Fic: The Boys of Summer
Previous
It’s Like Playing Your Favorite Song In the Key of OMFG
Ray was surprised at how easily the evening had come together. Honestly, there hadn’t been a lot of pre-planning in his mind, but the restaurant had been right there and then the venue manager had offered to call him a cab and there was one only a block away. They’d already handed out hotel keys this afternoon. Suddenly, everything was go.
But if it made Gee think he was some kind of smooth manipulative bastard, well, he was totally fine with taking the credit.
It was bizarre, how strong it made him feel, how proud, knowing that he could just walk and Gerard would follow him. Maybe it was all in Ray’s head, but it felt different now than it had a year ago. He thought he could feel Gerard’s eyes on his shoulders, the back of his neck, his feet. It made him walk tall, open doors with a grace he didn’t ordinarily possess, feel a low tingle of anticipation in his chest.
He opened the hotel room door, walked inside and held it open with his foot for Gerard, who was right on his heels and chewing his lip so hard it was red and swollen. Ray tossed his bag on the floor, toed off his shoes, watched Gerard doing more or less the same. Checked his phone.
“Oh. My god.” He scrolled down a bit and sat down on the bed.
“What?” Gee called from the bathroom.
“It’s nothing. You don’t have any text messages, do you?” He tried not to laugh, blush, or curse. He mostly succeeded.
Gerard came back, checked. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He thumbed some more buttons, and warmed to the topic. “I got them dinner. Asked them to text if they didn’t want their standing orders, which I remembered, even down to the onion-not-garlic naan. And this is what we get? The fuck?!”
Ray scrolled back up. “I’ve got, ‘Have fun,’ from Christa, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ from James, which really narrows it down, thanks, some, um, encouragement from Frank...”
“Frank says I should remind you not to leave too many marks, James has some guitar-related innuendo, and Lyns says I don’t need to worry about tucking Bandit in this evening. Did you shout it from the rooftops or something?” Gerard looked confused, but only faintly irritated.
“I seriously didn’t! All I knew is we were rooming together.” Ray laughed. “Maybe we just shouldn’t put the three of them in a room with their cellphones when there’s more than five minutes of free time, or something.”
“I think you have a point there,” Gerard scoffed, turning his phone off. “Jesus. It hasn’t been that long since we got laid.”
“With each other? It’s been seventeen days.”
Gee sent him an amused ‘but who’s counting’ look, and Ray grinned sheepishly.
“Well. I guess I have some time to make up for,” Gerard threw some attitude into it, planted his feet, pulled off his shirt, tossed it on the floor with seeming contempt for the garment. He posed, raking both hands over his hair, craning his neck. He was all strong shoulders and soft eyes looking out from under his forearm.
Ray should be immune to this sort of thing by now, should have been over it years ago, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was Gerard, nobody was immune. That was kind of how the whole band got started, nobody could say no. Gerard stepped forward, put a hand on the bed next to Ray’s leg, leaned in. Fuck. Who would want to say no to that? He held Ray’s eyes and sank down, down, and knelt.
He stayed there, looking up, his lips curved into the tiniest smile, and slowly, Ray could feel him letting down his guard. Breath by breath, the electricity Gerard seemed to pump into the air just by raising an eyebrow or cocking a hip diminished, calmed. It was something he could always generate, but it was like he was putting it aside, setting it down, giving Ray his full attention. It was beautiful in a way that made Ray’s chest tight. He swallowed and reached to smooth the hair that Gerard had mussed, and Gerard turned his face into Ray’s hand, nuzzling, somehow suddenly as innocent as he had just been brazen. Ray ran his thumb over Gerard’s brow, let his fingertips trace over temple, nose, cheeks. Gee just leaned into it, soaking it up, eyes sliding closed.
I could do this for hours, Ray thought, then smiled as he realized he really could. It would be at least four hours before they’d even consider sleep. But he had other plans. He took in a breath, about to speak, and felt a buzzing against his palm.
It was Gerard, humming softly. “Mmmm, so. Unspeakable?”
“Nyeh, probably pretty speakable. I expect you’ll be speaking, anyway.”
“Not gonna gag me?” Gerard’s lips curved up against his hand.
“Fuck.” Ray turned his hand, let his knuckles drag against Gerard’s jaw while he thought about it being held open, what those lips would look like around cloth, a ball, a ring, a bit, a knotted rope. “Gonna next time, now.”
“Yeah?”
Ray might have thought he was being baited if Gerard hadn’t sounded breathless with anticipation. “Yeah. But not this time. Stand up.” Gee put his hand out on the bed again, got up only a little wobbly and stood in the patch of open floor by the bed. Ray stayed sitting down, pulled a bandanna out of his pocket, rolled it wide and flat on the diagonal, making a blindfold.
Then he stood up, holding the folded cloth in his hand. Open, obvious. Gerard looked at it, and Ray heard his breath catch, saw the hitch it made over his ribcage, saw the bulge in his jeans.
“Turn.”
Gerard moved without hesitation. Ray stepped forward, wrapped the bandanna around his eyes, did his best to tie it in the back without catching any hair in it. He checked the fit, made sure it didn’t pull, put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder lightly. “This time? I want to hear you beg. Turn.”
Gerard obeyed, moving a little more cautiously.
Ray let go, stepped back to look. It was just a square of black cotton, the kind with the cowboy paisley print on it. But it cut across Gerard’s face, contrasted sharply with his skin and hair, made him look even more vulnerable standing there shirtless, with his hands open at his sides. He was waiting, blind. Ray stepped forward again, touched his forehead the way he had when Gerard had knelt, but traced lower with his fingertips, lingering on the cords of muscle in his neck, the hollow of his throat, down his chest, all the way to his navel. Gerard shivered, leaned toward Ray’s touch just a fraction of an inch, then kept himself still with a visible effort.
Ray gave him a proud smile, remembered he couldn’t see it. “Good,” he said, and it sounded low and soft. Gerard’s lips twitched. Ray ran the backs of his fingers over the sparse hairs low on Gerard’s belly, over the denim waistband, lower...and to the right, over to his hip.
Gee’s breath wavered, but he didn’t move. Ray hooked a finger of his other hand into one of Gerard’s belt loops, got a good grip, and leaned in until he could feel the heat of that breath, and Gerard tipped up his chin a little, parted his lips, but didn’t move in to close the space. Just signified his willingness for Ray to take whatever he wanted. So Ray brushed his lips across Gerard’s, let a hand slide up from Gerard’s waist to his neck, cupped the back of his head. Ray let their lips brush again, feather-light, and Gerard swallowed, still unmoving. Ray stretched out his fingers, then closed them in a fist, gathering and pulling Gerard’s hair tightly.
Gerard sucked in a gasp, opening his mouth a little wider, and Ray kissed him hard, teeth and tongue. Gerard kissed back, a tiny sound in his throat, and tasted like cinnamon and clove. Ray pulled away, catching Gerard’s lip between his teeth before letting go, and sliding his hand down again. He didn’t move away this time, running his fingers and then the heel of his hand over the bulge in Gerard’s jeans, watching.
Gerard’s right hand gave the barest twitch, but that was all. Ray made a satisfied noise deep in his chest and unbuckled Gerard’s belt, unbuttoned his jeans, walked around behind him, one hand on him the whole time. Ray slung his left arm around Gee’s neck and leant forward over his shoulder, taking his earlobe between his teeth and biting lightly. He drew Gerard in closer, left hand splayed down his chest, right hand snaking down around his waistband, and under. Gerard’s thighs trembled with the effort of not pushing up into Ray’s fingers, and Ray held him there, just like that, breathing hot into his ear, fingertips almost brushing his cock.
“Ray...” Gerard’s voice caught. “Please.”
Ray licked behind his ear. “Not yet,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers and moving them to the side again, this time to slide Gerard’s jeans and underwear down. He held out his arm, and put Gerard’s hand on it so he’d be steady. “Out of ‘em.” Gee extracted one foot, then the other, stepping forward, leaving his hand on Ray’s arm. Because that’s where I put him, Ray realized, and felt heat, tight and heavy, in the pit of his stomach. It ached, and he stepped forward with Gerard, wrapped an arm around him again, sunk teeth into Gerard’s shoulder and ground up against him. Ray groaned. Any touch, any pressure at all was what he was aching for, but the curve of Gerard’s naked ass grinding back was fucking heaven. Gerard made a noise high in his throat, not quite a whimper, but Ray was going to get him there soon enough.
He pulled Gerard’s arm down, nuzzled against the nape of his neck, let the fingers of one hand wander down to his balls, soft and warm. He palmed them, kneading the flesh gently, and got a grateful moan for his efforts. He curled his fingers down, pressed under Gee’s sac against the root of his cock, rubbed low and slow until Gerard’s thighs were shaking, his back was sweating, and he was definitely whimpering. Ray drew his hands away and up to Gerard’s shoulders, making sure he was steady.
“Stay.”
Gerard stayed.
Ray walked over to his bag, drew out a length of rope, tossed it over his shoulder, and set to work stripping the bed of half its pillows and all but the sheets. He spared a glance at Gerard. He was staying stock-still, and so hard it made Ray’s cock twitch in sympathy. Ray couldn’t look at that and not touch. He left the rope on the bed, moved over in front of Gerard, grabbed him by the hair, and put a thumb over his lips.
“Lick.” Gerard’s tongue swished over the pad of Ray’s thumb over and over until Ray could stand to pull it away, used it to wipe the precome from the head of Gerard’s cock, brought it back to Gerard’s mouth. Gerard licked without being told. Ray couldn’t decide if that was good or not, so he settled for teasing. “Hmm, taste that? You’re leaking.” Gerard’s cheeks flushed red, all the way up to the blindfold.
Ray chuckled low in his throat and moved away again, this time to shoulder up the end of the mattress and finagle the rope under it. It wasn’t a quiet process, exactly, and Ray wondered if Gerard was trying to figure out what was going on. He managed to get the rope strung underneath the mattress about a third of the way up the bed, ends dangling.
“Perfect.” Ray shifted his attention to Gee. “Need to get you a leash.” Gerard blushed again, and damn if it wasn’t pretty. “You look so good with something around your throat. Oh, well. Guess I can just use this one,” Ray mused, and moved over, reaching down to pull on Gerard’s cock and lead him to the bed by it. He gasped at Ray’s firm grip, and followed with small steps until the mattress hit his knees. “I want you on your hands and knees up here, knees as far apart as they’ll go.”
Gerard scrambled down on the bed until he was stretched out like a cat in heat, and Ray took great care tying his legs apart with the rope-ends he’d left out from under the mattress, looping them just below the kneecap. “Okay, move around some.” Gerard wriggled, twisting his feet inward, getting his arms and shoulders on first one side, then another of the bed, but largely getting nowhere. “Good.” Gee stopped, and Ray checked to make sure the ropes hadn’t tightened in the process. They hadn’t; he was getting good at this. The things you learn in this band. “Stay.”
Ray got off the bed and rummaged in his bag, pulled out a ziploc, and yanked off his clothes. He took a moment, then, to admire his captive vocalist. Pale skin, white rope, black blindfold, red hair, tanned forearms on white sheets. He opened the plastic bag, set it down by Gerard’s leg, got up on the bed behind Gerard, ran his fingers over all that skin, soothing. He fished the lube out of the bag and popped the bottle open, squirting some into his palm. Ray dropped the bottle on the bed and reached in the bag again, this time pulling out a short silicone toy, a curved plug with obscene little bulges. He rubbed it into his palm until it was shiny all over, and held it ready while his other hand went between Gerard’s legs, slicking lube over his cock with the briefest of touches, over his balls, up to his taint, over his ass. He paused to smear the lube over his fingers, then anchored them, wet and warm, behind Gerard’s balls while he rubbed his thumb over his asshole. He teased Gerard, pressing and letting up, tracing circles around the delicate skin, letting his thumbnail scrape lightly up and down.
Gerard just took it, making little gasps, finally shaking just a little, and Ray chose that moment to spread him open and slide the toy home.
The noise Gerard made was gratifyingly loud. Ray reached forward and gripped the base of Gerard’s cock tightly, a hard squeeze to remind him it wasn’t time yet, and Gerard’s cry got choked off, almost as if it was his throat Ray had his hand wrapped around. Ray let up slowly, and listened to Gerard get his breath back.
“Fuck, Ray, I...” Gee sounded raw with want, and the sound made Ray ache in all the best ways.
“You’re gonna wait,” Ray coaxed, and he liked how certain he made it sound, how softly calm he could be, talking to Gerard like this.
“I’m... I’m gonna wait,” Gerard repeated, like he was using Ray’s words to try to find the same certainty he could hear.
Ray reached up and scored the skin of Gerard’s back lightly with his nails, relishing the soft moan he got in return. He let go of Gerard’s cock with his other hand, just sliding his palm up and down.
It wasn’t much friction, and Gerard tensed up all over, trying to stay still, which meant he clenched around the plug, and the curve of it pressed against his prostate. He let out a ragged gasp.
“You’re gonna wait as long...” Ray punctuated his words with a slow, firm stroke. “...as I want you to.”
“As long as you want,” Gerard whispered, a soft, desperate invocation.
“And then?” Ray situated himself, pressing his knees together between Gerard’s legs, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s torso and pulling up and back, tugging Gerard into his lap. He went easily, groaning a little at Ray’s cock, hard and hot, pressed between them. “Then I’m gonna fuck you like this, pick you up with your legs tied apart and make you scream.” He let go then, tipped Gerard back down and let him get his balance on all fours again.
Gerard made a high, wavery noise that sounded a lot like “shitfuck.”
Ray watched him breathe, deep shuddering breaths that made his shoulders rise and fall. He reached down to check the ropes around Gerard’s knees, made sure they hadn’t pulled too much when Ray moved him.
“Good.” Ray smoothed his hands up Gerard’s legs, up his back, down to his thighs again. He slid off the end of the bed, walking up to the head of it, and crawled up on the pillows, settling down in front of Gerard. “But before I do that...” he trailed off and ran fingers down Gerard’s neck, down his right shoulder, his arm, and finally his wrist. Ray pulled Gerard’s hand down to his own cock, covered Gerard’s fingers with his and stroked with him a few times before pulling away. “...you’re going to do this for me.”
Gerard twitched and made a desperate sound, his fingers loose but moving at the pace Ray set, his hair falling over the blindfold as he jerked himself off, propped up on one arm.
“And you’re not going to stop, are you?” The strand of hair moved back and forth as Gerard shook his head. “Not going to come, not going to stop.”
“Not gonna come, not gonna stop,” Gerard breathed.
“Good. So, so good,” Ray praised, and moved a little. “Now...” He trailed off, getting a fistful of Gerard’s hair and his hand on his own cock, pushing Gee’s head down. He didn’t need to explain. Gerard got it immediately, sinking down to suck, and it was a beautiful thing, that fold of cloth, that strand of hair, lowering so Ray could see his ass high in the air, legs spread and held apart, and then the feeling of his mouth, wet and tight and perfect. Gerard’s tongue rolled and swirled, his cheeks hollowing from the suction, and everything was punctuated by little gasps and moans as Gerard stroked himself through it. Finally Ray realized he was biting the inside of his cheek and trying to think about Frank breaking guitars to hold off, and tightened his fingers in Gerard’s hair, pulling up. He didn’t know if it’d been thirty seconds or fifteen minutes, but it was longer than anyone should have to bear Gerard making desperate little noises while cocksucking with single-minded determination. “Should I fuck you now?”
Gerard pulled off his cock with a gulping noise, lifting his chin. Ray looked at his shoulder, still moving, looked down at his cock, the head of it bobbing, peeking out between Gerard’s fingers. “Please.” It was barely a whisper, but then Gerard made a rasping, broken groan and said, louder, “Please, please, Ray, please fuck me, fuck, please.”
And that was enough to get Ray sliding off the bed, trying not to fall so he could just get behind Gerard, get closer, slide out the plug without even teasing like he usually would, but Gerard didn’t stop, murmuring, whimpering, and Ray didn’t even catch it all, just bits here and there, “...be so good... I’ll wait if you want me to, I’ll wait...just please, not enough...” and Ray couldn’t get slicked up fast enough. But it was all he had to do, Gerard was there, spread out and warmed up and open and waiting, just waiting for Ray to put a steadying hand on his hip and slide in, his ass tight and pulsing and accommodating and achingly good. Gerard made this low, guttural, grateful noise, and gasped out something that sounded like “Oh, god, thank you.”
Ray pushed in all the way, and paused. “Jesus fuckin’ wept,” he breathed. “Did you stop?”
“No,” Gerard choked, and Ray saw his shoulder still moving.
“Good.” Ray leaned forward, getting his arms around Gerard’s torso again. “Gerard?”
“Yeah?” Ray had never heard him sound so strung-out.
He pulled Gerard into his lap and down hard, fucking up into the tight heat of him rough and deep. “You can come,” he gasped, feeling the pressure building low in his belly, behind his eyes, at the base of his spine. His hands dug into the flesh of Gerard’s ribcage, and he bit his shoulder, jaws closing on a mound of muscle. He tasted salt, pulled him down, spread open and desperate, pulled Gerard onto his cock again and again until Gerard screamed and milked him, fluttering and clenching, and Ray slammed into him one more time, coming so hard he couldn’t even see.
Panting, he lowered Gerard down onto the bed, and he went, pliant like a rag doll. He untied the ropes, barely managing the complicated movements while the blood started to rush back to his head, tossed the lube on the floor, picked up a blanket, and lay down, pulling both Gerard and the blanket on top of him. They were going to be sticky when they woke up, and they could shower then. And order like five pizzas from room service, probably. But it didn’t matter yet. All that mattered was Gerard, beautiful and exhausted and limply sweaty. Ray reached up and tugged off the bandanna, wincing sympathetically as it pulled out a couple of strands of hair. Gerard’s eyes blinked open, small rings of hazel widening as the light hit them. Ray dropped the blindfold off the edge of the bed, gathered Gerard in his arms, and turned the both of them onto their sides, even finding a couple of pillows. After a minute or two, Gerard slipped off to the bathroom, and returned with a glass of water. His hand shook a little when he held it out to Ray, who took a few sips and handed it back. Gerard finished it, set the glass on the nightstand, and Ray hauled him back into bed.
They didn’t have to say anything. Gerard kissed Ray’s shoulder and Ray ran an unsteady hand through his hair, and they passed out in seconds flat.
*******
Sometimes, Christmas Really Does Come Early
Look, Frank was usually happy with whatever came his way, especially where betting pool winnings were concerned. Really fucking happy. Seriously. And he was ecstatic that he and Brendon were finally going to get some time together. They’d had a few missed connections, scorching-hot moments in hallways and parties that never managed to lead anywhere but one of them gasping in the other’s ear that he really needed to get the other alone sometime. Frank was actually pretty proud of his patience on this one. It had been almost three years since the first time he’d kissed Brendon (he’d said that rhythm guitarists did it better and Ryan had told him to prove it) and it had been a month since the last time they’d seen each other. One too-quick makeout session at Reading did not quality time make.
So when Frank had won a bet and Jamia had told him who he’d been betting against, Frank had, well, okay, he’d done a victory dance first. And then stringently reminded himself that it was Brendon fucking Urie and for all Frank knew, it’d be another three years before he could fucking collect. It didn’t stop him from texting Brendon, i win mothafucka, what u gonna give me?
What u want, baby? Frank had needed a second to breathe after reading that.
a fucking night. my bet tho so ur wearin a dress.
It had been seven agonizing minutes before he got a text back. red or black?
But nothing had actually prepared him for the sight of Brendon Urie in a little black off-the-shoulder number with fishnet stockings and motherfucking heels on sitting on the bed of Frank’s hotel room, legs delicately crossed. Nothing. He’d couldn’t believe that he’d managed to win this without cheating. He couldn’t believe Brendon had come through. He couldn’t believe their schedules had actually matched up for a night. He couldn’t believe how fucking good Brendon’s lipstick looked.
And he might have been staring. Open-mouthed. Still in the hallway. Holding the hotel room door. And his bag.
Brendon fucking smirked at him. Fucker. Hot. Goddamn smoking hot motherfucker. Frank stepped into the room and shut the door after putting the ‘Do Not Disturb’ on the handle and dropping his bag in an out of the way place.
“Holy shit, you clean up nice,” Frank managed, and yeah. Not his best line. He knew that. But he had to start somewhere.
“Yeah, shaving my legs wasn’t such a big deal after the manscaping I did for that banana hammock thing,” Brendon said dismissively, kinda missing the point.
And Frank’s brain kind of derailed a little there for a second, because banana hammock. He’d seen the internet too, thankyouverymuch. Jamia had kindly linked him, as well as Lyn Z, Christa, Alicia, and Sarah because apparently he wasn’t covert at all about his crush on Brendon Urie. Girls. They were filthy and amazing. All of them. But right, more pressing matters. Pressing against his jeans, at least.
“How did you get your hair to do that?” Frank asked, reaching to touch. It was kind of impressive. Usually Brendon’s hair was all over the place, either sticking up or back or... You know. Why was he even concerned about hair?
Brendon’s smile turned self conscious for a second and he straightened his shoulders, then snapped back into snarky focus. “It’s called hair product. You should try it sometime.”
“Shuddup. My hair is awesome,” Frank crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look offended and failing.
“Your ‘awesome hair’ makes you look like you’re in high school,” Brendon lifted an eyebrow.
“Like you got any room to talk,” Frank countered.
Brendon chuckled, laughter shaking his shoulders, dress pulling tight across his chest.. “God, we’re twelve, aren’t we?”
“I’ve been told I’m at least seven and a half,” Frank said, finally reaching for Brendon. “Twelve seems like it might be too mature.” Brendon took his hand, and Frank tugged him up off the bed so he could get a good look.
“Mature, huh?” Brendon lifted an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips and looking at Frank. “Is this the part where you say you’ll show me mature anyway?”
Frank was busy checking out Brendon’s legs. “No,” Frank licked his lips. “This is the part where I do really filthy things to you.”
“Like?” Brendon asked, smirking, head tilted and eyes hooded as Frank slid a hand down the black sheath of the dress, leaning in for a quick kiss. Shit, it’d been too long.
“Like eat you out, suck your cock, and fuck you till you scream,” Frank said cheerily, sliding his hand back up and licking Brendon’s chest where it showed.
Brendon squeaked. Frank just looked back up and grinned wickedly. “I wonder how much of that I can do with you still wearing that outfit...”
“Depends on how much outfit,” Brendon offered, cheeks flushed and eyes darkening.
“Depends, huh.” Frank stepped closer, his fingers trailing along the tops of Brendon’s stockings and ghosting further up. “What have you even fucking got on under this thing? Jesusfuck, Brendon.” He said it with admiration, his head shaking. He thumbed the inside of the dress. “You commando under this silk lining? Or is there something else?”
Frank’s hands were halfway up Brendon’s thighs now. He wasn’t in a rush. Fuck, was he ever not in a rush. This was his present, damnit, and he was gonna open it as slowly as he fucking wanted. Brendon’s thighs trembled faintly.
Brendon audibly swallowed and said, “Something else.”
“No garter belt,” Frank observed, fingers dangerously close to where thigh meets hip. At last his fingers brushed lace and sucked in a breath. “Shit, Brendon.”
Brendon smiled.
“Is that...?” Frank asked, exploring the fabric with his hands, what there was of it. His fingers brushed lower. Lace barely contained Brendon’s half-hard cock and Frank knew that’d be something to see. Oh fuck, how he wanted to look, and he would. His hand pressed down just enough to cause Brendon to moan and push against Frank’s hand and Frank smirked and let his hands cup Brendon’s bare ass. “Holy shit, you’re wearing a thong.”
“Well... Yeah?” Brendon licked his lips.
“Down on the bed so I can see you,” Frank guided Brendon backwards, encouraging him to sit and scoot.
Brendon crossed his legs and leaned back, propping himself on his arms, the hem of his dress sliding teasingly up, heeled foot swaying to and fro. He looked like a fucking pinup.
“Tease,” Frank scoffed at Brendon’s crossed legs.
“I’m trying to be a lady,” Brendon chided, allowing Frank to uncross his legs, heels resting on the floor.
“Trying to kill me’s more like it,” Frank muttered, pulling the hem of the fabric up to bunch around the tops of Brendon’s hips. Frank sucked in a breath, because goddamn. What he saw was even better than he’d imagined. Black lace, and Brendon’s hard cock straining obscenely against it, wide filigreed straps of the thong clinging to his hips, dark sheen on the fabric where the tip of his cock was leaking precome. “Fuck.”
Brendon smirked and started to say something catty, but Frank bent down and licked the lace right at the tip of Brendon’s cock. “Frank,” Brendon gasped instead, surprised.
Frank smiled a little and closed his mouth around the tip, sucking at the fabric and working at the lace pattern with his tongue.
“Oh fuck,” Brendon moaned, thigh muscles clenching underneath Frank’s hand. “Jesus Christ.”
Frank kept his mouth on the soft, stretchy lace, trying to take Brendon a little deeper through the fabric and doing his level best to drive him insane. He breathed warm over Brendon’s balls, licked all the way up, tried to open his mouth wide enough to cover as much of Brendon’s dick as he could with wet heat and pressure. Judging by the moans and the way one of Brendon’s hands was frantically trying to find purchase in Frank’s hair, he wasn’t doing a half-bad job.
“Shit, Frank, I could get off like this,” Brendon panted, finding words, and he sounded so fucking hot, but Frank stopped what he was doing. Brendon whined.
Frank kissed the inside of Brendon’s thigh and said, a little breathless, “No.”
“I wanted that,” Brendon pouted.
“Well, yeah,” Frank grinned devilishly. “Been three fuckin’ years, y’better want it.” He kept his tone light, but he knew Brendon could hear the desire in his voice, see it in his face.
“You’re evil,” Brendon fell back with a bounce on the bed, throwing an arm over his face. “Your wife has taught you to be an evil tease.” He thunked his head on the bedframe.
“She’s fantastic, isn’t she?” Frank smiled, a private smile. “But you haven’t seen tease, yet.”
Brendon looked at Frank, eyes hooded, and swallowed. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice suddenly a little rougher.
“Turn over,” Frank said.
“You weren’t kidding.” Brendon gaped for a second.
“Over,” Frank ordered patiently.
Brendon scrambled for purchase against the sheet, sprawled gracelessly, nearly kicked Frank in the balls with a stiletto and scrambled up onto his knees. Once Brendon was settled, he promptly waggled his ass at Frank. “How’s that?”
Frank could hear his smug grin. Brendon had every right to be smug. The way his ass looked, perky and round and almost completely bare, trimmed with scalloped scraps of black lace, peeking out from under the hem of his dress, was just. Yeah. Brendon should be smug. But Frank was gonna wipe the grin off his face anyway.
“It’ll do,” Frank kept his voice surprisingly level, sliding his palm up Brendon’s ass to rest on his hip. He was trying to decide if he wanted to lick over the thin strip of material, move it aside, pull it down, or try to get the flimsy garment off altogether. It was probably considered rude to rip off a dude’s panties on the first date. If that’s what this was. Jesus. Decisions. Fuck it. He’d have a helluva time getting them all the way off without possible bodily harm. He’d reconsider for proper cocksucking. But first.
He slid his finger under the strap of fabric, prying it away from Brendon’s skin just a little, holding it in the crook of his hand, and skimmed down, slowly. His knuckle grazed the skin the inch of fabric had covered, the base of Brendon’s spine, his crack, between his cheeks, his asshole, all the way down to his balls where the material began to widen again. Frank shifted a little, got his face down so he could see and taste, and got a better hold on the fabric, pulling. He followed the top of the thong with his tongue, skimming the skin like his fingers had just done until Brendon’s panties were low around his thighs and Frank had a mouthful of taint and Brendon was gasping, “Oh, shit.”
Frank looked up, admiring the view again, and framed Brendon’s ass with his fingers, enjoying the vulnerable little breathy noises he got when he spread his hands apart to see. Brendon’s asshole was tiny, puckered tight, pink-pale skin Frank wanted to taste. He only made Brendon wait for a few seconds before he licked down again, and this time, he did not stop, and did not stop, and would not stop. He teased, flicking licks all over until Brendon whimpered. Frank firmed up his grip, bit lightly at the skin beside his thumb, dug in his teeth a little, because he had waited, damnit, and he was going to do this right. Or as right as he fucking knew how, which involved blowing Brendon’s mind again and again so he’d come back for more. Brendon stilled, and Frank got back to it, tasting, relishing the choked-off noise Brendon made when Frank pressed the flat of his tongue fully against his asshole, rolling his tongue across the tight muscle slow and wet until Brendon finally relaxed a little. Frank moved his thumbs, letting them almost dip in, spreading Brendon apart for his mouth so he could finally fuck Brendon open with his tongue, loosen him hot and wet, working deeper as his moaning got louder. Gorgeous little fucker squirmed, trying to pull away and trying to push back all at once.
“Fuck, so,” Brendon gasped, moaned, “close, are you trying to kill me, Frank, I can’t...”
Frank pulled away and kissed an ass cheek. “How’s that for a tease?”
“You goddamn asshole,” Brendon groaned. “How the fuck are you so good at that?”
“At what? At this?” Frank asked, licking again, and was gratified when Brendon actually squealed in surprise, slowly darkening to a moan when Frank kept going for another minute. When he thought he’d gotten Brendon back to the edge again, he pulled back, trying to remember the thread of the conversation.
“Trade secrets,” Frank tsked, trying for smooth and only chuckling a little. “Now, do you want me to suck you off?”
Brendon moaned.
“Or do you want me to go ahead and fuck you till you come?” Frank asked.
“How are you even real? I’ve never been so glad to lose a bet in my life, fuck,” Brendon said into his arm.
“How are you still talking coherently? I am very fucking thorough,” Frank scolded, but was grinning ear to ear.
“Spencer usually bitches about that too,” Brendon observed. “Get up here and kiss me already.”
Frank kicked off his own sneakers and lost his sweater. He crawled up the bed as Brendon stretched out on his side, thong still trapped mid-thigh. Frank leaned over, his hand cupping Brendon’s cheek, and kissed him deeply, opening his mouth. Brendon’s tongue slipped inside Frank’s mouth and he tipped his head so Brendon could taste what he tasted.
They pulled back, both gasping. Brendon looked obscene with his red lipstick smeared and lips swollen and wet, and Frank almost couldn’t believe him for a second. Shit. He really loved his life.
He smiled at Brendon.
“What?” Brendon giggled, then chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Just you,” Frank answered and kissed him again, sucking on Brendon’s bottom lip, causing him to make some fascinating noises.
Frank pulled away and shifted up onto his knees and grinned devilishly down at Brendon.
“Step two?” Brendon asked, chewing on his lip again, which made Frank want to chew on Brendon’s lip, too. It briefly crossed Frank’s mind that he might have an oral fixation, but he had more important things to focus on. He was in the middle of unwrapping his present.
Frank shifted so that he could take the tip of Brendon’s leaking cock in his mouth, tasting salty sweat and something very Brendon.
“I like step two,” Brendon gasped, flailing until he got his fists dug into a pillow.
Frank hummed, causing Brendon to buck a little. Taking the base of Brendon’s cock in one hand, Frank hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, tongue teasing the slit and the underside, enjoying the heady taste of Brendon on his tongue.
“Frank, oh fuck,” Brendon babbled. “Shit, you’re good at that, too.”
Frank hummed again and swallowed down to the base causing Brendon to buck and moan and gasp.
“Close, Frankie, Frankie,” Brendon panted. “Frank.”
Frank responded by swallowing him down again and Brendon came with a broken-off cry. Frank swallowed and pulled off with an audible pop.
“Jesuschrist,” Brendon managed, breathing heavily.
Frank grinned and rested his head on Brendon’s thigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m pretty good at that too.”
“No kidding,” Brendon smiled, propping himself up on his elbows. “So, I imagine you’re gonna want to go on to step three, unless you’ll let me taste some of your tattoos?”
“There will be time for tattoo tasting later,” Frank answered. “I’ve never tasted piano keys before.”
Brendon smirked, and kept smiling as Frank rolled off the bed and started digging around his bag for lube and a condom.
“Ya know, while you’re looking, you could lose some clothes,” Brendon offered, dark eyes watching Frank. “Like maybe starting with one of your shirts?”
“I’ve already taken off the sweater,” Frank smirked.
“And you’ve still got two layers,” Brendon frowned, like the thought of so many layers offended him. Maybe they did. The kid did end up in his underwear at Summerfest. Yes, Frank had seen the videos on the internet for that one too, thanks.
“Oh, these shirts,” Frank teased, dropping the lube and condom on the bed. Frank toyed with the hems of his shirts.
“Yes. Those shirts. Please take them off,” Brendon made grabby hands. “And get this thong off while you’re at it.” He shimmied a little to emphasize his point.
Frank shook his head at Brendon, giggling, and pulled off his shirts.
“Oh,” Brendon sucked in a breath.
“What?” Frank smirked and cocked a hip like a smartass.
Brendon audibly swallowed. “You look just as good as I thought you would. And you’ve got more tattoos than I found on the internet. Not that I did any creepy stalking.”
Frank giggled, “Dude, I thought it was just me. And I bet you want me even more naked.”
“Oh, yes please.“ Brendon was smirking, eyes dark.
Frank unzipped his pants and slid them down, along with his underwear and stepped out of them.
“Oh, I want that,” Brendon whispered. “Dress on or off?”
“Not off yet,” Frank said, stalking back over to the bed and hooking his thumbs under the lace trapped on Brendon’s thighs. “We’ll need a shower after this.”
“I’ve heard that there’s a soap you prefer,” Brendon smirked as Frank slid the thong down his legs.
“It is a very awesome shower gel,” Frank said conversationally, tossing the thong somewhere behind him, halfway hoping it got lost and he’d have trophy panties tomorrow. He uncapped the lube, warming it on his fingers, and crawled between Brendon’s legs, admiring Brendon’s half-hard cock. “Now, to shut you up.”
“I’ve been waiting,” Brendon challenged.
Frank smirked and eased a finger in, causing Brendon to make a pleased noise. Frank tucked in a second, an easy slide from the way he’d opened up Brendon with his tongue, and Brendon gasped, his cock leaking now.
“Like that,” Brendon moaned. “More. C’mon, Frank. Been waiting. Christ.”
“Been waiting like I’ve been waiting?” Frank asked, tucking in a third finger, stretching Brendon slow. “Shit. Since that night at the party when Ross dared me?”
“Fuck yes,” Brendon moaned. “Since I saw you across the room.”
“Me too,” Frank bent down to kiss him and tucked in a fourth, fingers shallow but wide, making Brendon buck.
“Ready, shit,” Brendon gasped as Frank pushed against Brendon’s prostate. “Now, c’mon. You impossible fucking tease. Jesus.”
Frank reached for the condom with his free hand and tore it open with his teeth, fumbling a little. Brendon helped roll it down, and wrapped his legs around Frank’s back. Frank lined up and pushed slowly in.
“Shit,” Brendon moaned as Frank bottomed out. “Just as good as I thought it’d be. Shit. C’mon, Frankie. Move already.”
“Holy fuck, Brendon,” Frank gasped, marveling for a minute, forcing himself not fuck Brendon relentlessly into the mattress. He really should have received a medal for his restraint. “So hot and tight for me. Jesus Christ.”
“Move, fucking fuck me,” Brendon begged.
Frank slowly slid out, shifted his hips and pushed back in, picking up a little speed but not too much. Brendon moaned.
“Do you like that?” Frank asked, keeping his strokes agonizingly slow. “Driving you crazy like this. Taking my time,” he teased.
“Frank, shit,” Brendon cursed, panting.
“I could take you apart like this,” Frank said breathlessly, hand reaching to jack Brendon in time with his thrusts, thumb teasing the slit.
“Coming apart for you,” Brendon gasped. “Close. Please.”
“C’mon, Brendon,” Frank encouraged. “Let me see you.”
Brendon locked eyes with him and came with a moan, shooting all over Frank’s hand and his stomach.
Frank quickened his thrusts, hands digging into Brendon’s hips, both of them panting. Brendon grinning at him like a loon, fond and encouraging.
“C’mon, Frank,” Brendon panted, ass clenching, and Frank was done. He came with a shout, hips stuttering, head buried against Brendon’s chest. Brendon’s hands were in his hair, scratching at his scalp.
Frank pulled out with a grunt, legs shaky, tying off the condom as he stumbled for the bathroom. Flushing the condom, he grabbed a washcloth and tossed it into the sink to wet. Frank looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. He had sex hair. Sex hair because of Brendon Urie. Christ, he was ridiculous. He’d go with it. He was happy to be ridiculous.
Washcloth in tow, he made it back to the bed with sturdier legs. Brendon’s hooded eyes followed him and he gave Frank a smile of his own, looking like a wet dream with his dress still pushed obscenely up over his hips. One stocking had rolled down past his knee and the other still clung to his thigh.
“Goddamn,” Brendon said.
“Like what you see?” Frank puffed out his chest a little and then focused on cleaning them both up a little. “And I should say the same to you.”
“Yeah, c’mere,” Brendon made grabby hands.
Frank tossed the cloth back toward the bathroom. If he were home, Jamia would give him shit for that. He smiled to himself, missing her and loving his fucking life, and then settled in beside Brendon.
“You’re still here,” Brendon said, face serious all at once.
“Well yeah,” Frank answered, reaching out to smooth back Brendon’s hair. “Where would I go? I still haven’t gotten you out of your dress.”
Brendon kissed him. “And after that?”
“I figure -- or at least I hope -- that we’ll get some sort of sleep, then some morning sex if there’s time before we gotta do press,” Frank said seriously. “I figure that way, maybe we’ll be able to last until we see each other again.”
“Again?” Brendon asked, something hopeful tucked into the corners of his eyes.
“If you wanna,” Frank shrugged, feeling a little hopeful too. “I’d kind of like to keep you.” He’d already talked to Jamia about it. She was open to it. They hadn’t added anyone to their circle in a while. Sarah seemed into it, and Jamia got along with the girl like gangbusters. “It doesn’t have to be... we spent three years getting this far, you know? Can be whatever you want,” Frank tried to clarify, failing miserably, and maybe babbling a little.
“I’d like that too,” Brendon smiled over Frank’s handwaving, genuine and breath-taking. Christ. How did Frank get so far gone for this kid?
“Good,” Frank beamed. “Now. Let’s get you out of that dress. I have some soap you might want to torture Spencer Smith with. You should try it out first.”
“Sweet,” Brendon grinned back.
Next
It’s Like Playing Your Favorite Song In the Key of OMFG
Ray was surprised at how easily the evening had come together. Honestly, there hadn’t been a lot of pre-planning in his mind, but the restaurant had been right there and then the venue manager had offered to call him a cab and there was one only a block away. They’d already handed out hotel keys this afternoon. Suddenly, everything was go.
But if it made Gee think he was some kind of smooth manipulative bastard, well, he was totally fine with taking the credit.
It was bizarre, how strong it made him feel, how proud, knowing that he could just walk and Gerard would follow him. Maybe it was all in Ray’s head, but it felt different now than it had a year ago. He thought he could feel Gerard’s eyes on his shoulders, the back of his neck, his feet. It made him walk tall, open doors with a grace he didn’t ordinarily possess, feel a low tingle of anticipation in his chest.
He opened the hotel room door, walked inside and held it open with his foot for Gerard, who was right on his heels and chewing his lip so hard it was red and swollen. Ray tossed his bag on the floor, toed off his shoes, watched Gerard doing more or less the same. Checked his phone.
“Oh. My god.” He scrolled down a bit and sat down on the bed.
“What?” Gee called from the bathroom.
“It’s nothing. You don’t have any text messages, do you?” He tried not to laugh, blush, or curse. He mostly succeeded.
Gerard came back, checked. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He thumbed some more buttons, and warmed to the topic. “I got them dinner. Asked them to text if they didn’t want their standing orders, which I remembered, even down to the onion-not-garlic naan. And this is what we get? The fuck?!”
Ray scrolled back up. “I’ve got, ‘Have fun,’ from Christa, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ from James, which really narrows it down, thanks, some, um, encouragement from Frank...”
“Frank says I should remind you not to leave too many marks, James has some guitar-related innuendo, and Lyns says I don’t need to worry about tucking Bandit in this evening. Did you shout it from the rooftops or something?” Gerard looked confused, but only faintly irritated.
“I seriously didn’t! All I knew is we were rooming together.” Ray laughed. “Maybe we just shouldn’t put the three of them in a room with their cellphones when there’s more than five minutes of free time, or something.”
“I think you have a point there,” Gerard scoffed, turning his phone off. “Jesus. It hasn’t been that long since we got laid.”
“With each other? It’s been seventeen days.”
Gee sent him an amused ‘but who’s counting’ look, and Ray grinned sheepishly.
“Well. I guess I have some time to make up for,” Gerard threw some attitude into it, planted his feet, pulled off his shirt, tossed it on the floor with seeming contempt for the garment. He posed, raking both hands over his hair, craning his neck. He was all strong shoulders and soft eyes looking out from under his forearm.
Ray should be immune to this sort of thing by now, should have been over it years ago, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was Gerard, nobody was immune. That was kind of how the whole band got started, nobody could say no. Gerard stepped forward, put a hand on the bed next to Ray’s leg, leaned in. Fuck. Who would want to say no to that? He held Ray’s eyes and sank down, down, and knelt.
He stayed there, looking up, his lips curved into the tiniest smile, and slowly, Ray could feel him letting down his guard. Breath by breath, the electricity Gerard seemed to pump into the air just by raising an eyebrow or cocking a hip diminished, calmed. It was something he could always generate, but it was like he was putting it aside, setting it down, giving Ray his full attention. It was beautiful in a way that made Ray’s chest tight. He swallowed and reached to smooth the hair that Gerard had mussed, and Gerard turned his face into Ray’s hand, nuzzling, somehow suddenly as innocent as he had just been brazen. Ray ran his thumb over Gerard’s brow, let his fingertips trace over temple, nose, cheeks. Gee just leaned into it, soaking it up, eyes sliding closed.
I could do this for hours, Ray thought, then smiled as he realized he really could. It would be at least four hours before they’d even consider sleep. But he had other plans. He took in a breath, about to speak, and felt a buzzing against his palm.
It was Gerard, humming softly. “Mmmm, so. Unspeakable?”
“Nyeh, probably pretty speakable. I expect you’ll be speaking, anyway.”
“Not gonna gag me?” Gerard’s lips curved up against his hand.
“Fuck.” Ray turned his hand, let his knuckles drag against Gerard’s jaw while he thought about it being held open, what those lips would look like around cloth, a ball, a ring, a bit, a knotted rope. “Gonna next time, now.”
“Yeah?”
Ray might have thought he was being baited if Gerard hadn’t sounded breathless with anticipation. “Yeah. But not this time. Stand up.” Gee put his hand out on the bed again, got up only a little wobbly and stood in the patch of open floor by the bed. Ray stayed sitting down, pulled a bandanna out of his pocket, rolled it wide and flat on the diagonal, making a blindfold.
Then he stood up, holding the folded cloth in his hand. Open, obvious. Gerard looked at it, and Ray heard his breath catch, saw the hitch it made over his ribcage, saw the bulge in his jeans.
“Turn.”
Gerard moved without hesitation. Ray stepped forward, wrapped the bandanna around his eyes, did his best to tie it in the back without catching any hair in it. He checked the fit, made sure it didn’t pull, put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder lightly. “This time? I want to hear you beg. Turn.”
Gerard obeyed, moving a little more cautiously.
Ray let go, stepped back to look. It was just a square of black cotton, the kind with the cowboy paisley print on it. But it cut across Gerard’s face, contrasted sharply with his skin and hair, made him look even more vulnerable standing there shirtless, with his hands open at his sides. He was waiting, blind. Ray stepped forward again, touched his forehead the way he had when Gerard had knelt, but traced lower with his fingertips, lingering on the cords of muscle in his neck, the hollow of his throat, down his chest, all the way to his navel. Gerard shivered, leaned toward Ray’s touch just a fraction of an inch, then kept himself still with a visible effort.
Ray gave him a proud smile, remembered he couldn’t see it. “Good,” he said, and it sounded low and soft. Gerard’s lips twitched. Ray ran the backs of his fingers over the sparse hairs low on Gerard’s belly, over the denim waistband, lower...and to the right, over to his hip.
Gee’s breath wavered, but he didn’t move. Ray hooked a finger of his other hand into one of Gerard’s belt loops, got a good grip, and leaned in until he could feel the heat of that breath, and Gerard tipped up his chin a little, parted his lips, but didn’t move in to close the space. Just signified his willingness for Ray to take whatever he wanted. So Ray brushed his lips across Gerard’s, let a hand slide up from Gerard’s waist to his neck, cupped the back of his head. Ray let their lips brush again, feather-light, and Gerard swallowed, still unmoving. Ray stretched out his fingers, then closed them in a fist, gathering and pulling Gerard’s hair tightly.
Gerard sucked in a gasp, opening his mouth a little wider, and Ray kissed him hard, teeth and tongue. Gerard kissed back, a tiny sound in his throat, and tasted like cinnamon and clove. Ray pulled away, catching Gerard’s lip between his teeth before letting go, and sliding his hand down again. He didn’t move away this time, running his fingers and then the heel of his hand over the bulge in Gerard’s jeans, watching.
Gerard’s right hand gave the barest twitch, but that was all. Ray made a satisfied noise deep in his chest and unbuckled Gerard’s belt, unbuttoned his jeans, walked around behind him, one hand on him the whole time. Ray slung his left arm around Gee’s neck and leant forward over his shoulder, taking his earlobe between his teeth and biting lightly. He drew Gerard in closer, left hand splayed down his chest, right hand snaking down around his waistband, and under. Gerard’s thighs trembled with the effort of not pushing up into Ray’s fingers, and Ray held him there, just like that, breathing hot into his ear, fingertips almost brushing his cock.
“Ray...” Gerard’s voice caught. “Please.”
Ray licked behind his ear. “Not yet,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers and moving them to the side again, this time to slide Gerard’s jeans and underwear down. He held out his arm, and put Gerard’s hand on it so he’d be steady. “Out of ‘em.” Gee extracted one foot, then the other, stepping forward, leaving his hand on Ray’s arm. Because that’s where I put him, Ray realized, and felt heat, tight and heavy, in the pit of his stomach. It ached, and he stepped forward with Gerard, wrapped an arm around him again, sunk teeth into Gerard’s shoulder and ground up against him. Ray groaned. Any touch, any pressure at all was what he was aching for, but the curve of Gerard’s naked ass grinding back was fucking heaven. Gerard made a noise high in his throat, not quite a whimper, but Ray was going to get him there soon enough.
He pulled Gerard’s arm down, nuzzled against the nape of his neck, let the fingers of one hand wander down to his balls, soft and warm. He palmed them, kneading the flesh gently, and got a grateful moan for his efforts. He curled his fingers down, pressed under Gee’s sac against the root of his cock, rubbed low and slow until Gerard’s thighs were shaking, his back was sweating, and he was definitely whimpering. Ray drew his hands away and up to Gerard’s shoulders, making sure he was steady.
“Stay.”
Gerard stayed.
Ray walked over to his bag, drew out a length of rope, tossed it over his shoulder, and set to work stripping the bed of half its pillows and all but the sheets. He spared a glance at Gerard. He was staying stock-still, and so hard it made Ray’s cock twitch in sympathy. Ray couldn’t look at that and not touch. He left the rope on the bed, moved over in front of Gerard, grabbed him by the hair, and put a thumb over his lips.
“Lick.” Gerard’s tongue swished over the pad of Ray’s thumb over and over until Ray could stand to pull it away, used it to wipe the precome from the head of Gerard’s cock, brought it back to Gerard’s mouth. Gerard licked without being told. Ray couldn’t decide if that was good or not, so he settled for teasing. “Hmm, taste that? You’re leaking.” Gerard’s cheeks flushed red, all the way up to the blindfold.
Ray chuckled low in his throat and moved away again, this time to shoulder up the end of the mattress and finagle the rope under it. It wasn’t a quiet process, exactly, and Ray wondered if Gerard was trying to figure out what was going on. He managed to get the rope strung underneath the mattress about a third of the way up the bed, ends dangling.
“Perfect.” Ray shifted his attention to Gee. “Need to get you a leash.” Gerard blushed again, and damn if it wasn’t pretty. “You look so good with something around your throat. Oh, well. Guess I can just use this one,” Ray mused, and moved over, reaching down to pull on Gerard’s cock and lead him to the bed by it. He gasped at Ray’s firm grip, and followed with small steps until the mattress hit his knees. “I want you on your hands and knees up here, knees as far apart as they’ll go.”
Gerard scrambled down on the bed until he was stretched out like a cat in heat, and Ray took great care tying his legs apart with the rope-ends he’d left out from under the mattress, looping them just below the kneecap. “Okay, move around some.” Gerard wriggled, twisting his feet inward, getting his arms and shoulders on first one side, then another of the bed, but largely getting nowhere. “Good.” Gee stopped, and Ray checked to make sure the ropes hadn’t tightened in the process. They hadn’t; he was getting good at this. The things you learn in this band. “Stay.”
Ray got off the bed and rummaged in his bag, pulled out a ziploc, and yanked off his clothes. He took a moment, then, to admire his captive vocalist. Pale skin, white rope, black blindfold, red hair, tanned forearms on white sheets. He opened the plastic bag, set it down by Gerard’s leg, got up on the bed behind Gerard, ran his fingers over all that skin, soothing. He fished the lube out of the bag and popped the bottle open, squirting some into his palm. Ray dropped the bottle on the bed and reached in the bag again, this time pulling out a short silicone toy, a curved plug with obscene little bulges. He rubbed it into his palm until it was shiny all over, and held it ready while his other hand went between Gerard’s legs, slicking lube over his cock with the briefest of touches, over his balls, up to his taint, over his ass. He paused to smear the lube over his fingers, then anchored them, wet and warm, behind Gerard’s balls while he rubbed his thumb over his asshole. He teased Gerard, pressing and letting up, tracing circles around the delicate skin, letting his thumbnail scrape lightly up and down.
Gerard just took it, making little gasps, finally shaking just a little, and Ray chose that moment to spread him open and slide the toy home.
The noise Gerard made was gratifyingly loud. Ray reached forward and gripped the base of Gerard’s cock tightly, a hard squeeze to remind him it wasn’t time yet, and Gerard’s cry got choked off, almost as if it was his throat Ray had his hand wrapped around. Ray let up slowly, and listened to Gerard get his breath back.
“Fuck, Ray, I...” Gee sounded raw with want, and the sound made Ray ache in all the best ways.
“You’re gonna wait,” Ray coaxed, and he liked how certain he made it sound, how softly calm he could be, talking to Gerard like this.
“I’m... I’m gonna wait,” Gerard repeated, like he was using Ray’s words to try to find the same certainty he could hear.
Ray reached up and scored the skin of Gerard’s back lightly with his nails, relishing the soft moan he got in return. He let go of Gerard’s cock with his other hand, just sliding his palm up and down.
It wasn’t much friction, and Gerard tensed up all over, trying to stay still, which meant he clenched around the plug, and the curve of it pressed against his prostate. He let out a ragged gasp.
“You’re gonna wait as long...” Ray punctuated his words with a slow, firm stroke. “...as I want you to.”
“As long as you want,” Gerard whispered, a soft, desperate invocation.
“And then?” Ray situated himself, pressing his knees together between Gerard’s legs, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s torso and pulling up and back, tugging Gerard into his lap. He went easily, groaning a little at Ray’s cock, hard and hot, pressed between them. “Then I’m gonna fuck you like this, pick you up with your legs tied apart and make you scream.” He let go then, tipped Gerard back down and let him get his balance on all fours again.
Gerard made a high, wavery noise that sounded a lot like “shitfuck.”
Ray watched him breathe, deep shuddering breaths that made his shoulders rise and fall. He reached down to check the ropes around Gerard’s knees, made sure they hadn’t pulled too much when Ray moved him.
“Good.” Ray smoothed his hands up Gerard’s legs, up his back, down to his thighs again. He slid off the end of the bed, walking up to the head of it, and crawled up on the pillows, settling down in front of Gerard. “But before I do that...” he trailed off and ran fingers down Gerard’s neck, down his right shoulder, his arm, and finally his wrist. Ray pulled Gerard’s hand down to his own cock, covered Gerard’s fingers with his and stroked with him a few times before pulling away. “...you’re going to do this for me.”
Gerard twitched and made a desperate sound, his fingers loose but moving at the pace Ray set, his hair falling over the blindfold as he jerked himself off, propped up on one arm.
“And you’re not going to stop, are you?” The strand of hair moved back and forth as Gerard shook his head. “Not going to come, not going to stop.”
“Not gonna come, not gonna stop,” Gerard breathed.
“Good. So, so good,” Ray praised, and moved a little. “Now...” He trailed off, getting a fistful of Gerard’s hair and his hand on his own cock, pushing Gee’s head down. He didn’t need to explain. Gerard got it immediately, sinking down to suck, and it was a beautiful thing, that fold of cloth, that strand of hair, lowering so Ray could see his ass high in the air, legs spread and held apart, and then the feeling of his mouth, wet and tight and perfect. Gerard’s tongue rolled and swirled, his cheeks hollowing from the suction, and everything was punctuated by little gasps and moans as Gerard stroked himself through it. Finally Ray realized he was biting the inside of his cheek and trying to think about Frank breaking guitars to hold off, and tightened his fingers in Gerard’s hair, pulling up. He didn’t know if it’d been thirty seconds or fifteen minutes, but it was longer than anyone should have to bear Gerard making desperate little noises while cocksucking with single-minded determination. “Should I fuck you now?”
Gerard pulled off his cock with a gulping noise, lifting his chin. Ray looked at his shoulder, still moving, looked down at his cock, the head of it bobbing, peeking out between Gerard’s fingers. “Please.” It was barely a whisper, but then Gerard made a rasping, broken groan and said, louder, “Please, please, Ray, please fuck me, fuck, please.”
And that was enough to get Ray sliding off the bed, trying not to fall so he could just get behind Gerard, get closer, slide out the plug without even teasing like he usually would, but Gerard didn’t stop, murmuring, whimpering, and Ray didn’t even catch it all, just bits here and there, “...be so good... I’ll wait if you want me to, I’ll wait...just please, not enough...” and Ray couldn’t get slicked up fast enough. But it was all he had to do, Gerard was there, spread out and warmed up and open and waiting, just waiting for Ray to put a steadying hand on his hip and slide in, his ass tight and pulsing and accommodating and achingly good. Gerard made this low, guttural, grateful noise, and gasped out something that sounded like “Oh, god, thank you.”
Ray pushed in all the way, and paused. “Jesus fuckin’ wept,” he breathed. “Did you stop?”
“No,” Gerard choked, and Ray saw his shoulder still moving.
“Good.” Ray leaned forward, getting his arms around Gerard’s torso again. “Gerard?”
“Yeah?” Ray had never heard him sound so strung-out.
He pulled Gerard into his lap and down hard, fucking up into the tight heat of him rough and deep. “You can come,” he gasped, feeling the pressure building low in his belly, behind his eyes, at the base of his spine. His hands dug into the flesh of Gerard’s ribcage, and he bit his shoulder, jaws closing on a mound of muscle. He tasted salt, pulled him down, spread open and desperate, pulled Gerard onto his cock again and again until Gerard screamed and milked him, fluttering and clenching, and Ray slammed into him one more time, coming so hard he couldn’t even see.
Panting, he lowered Gerard down onto the bed, and he went, pliant like a rag doll. He untied the ropes, barely managing the complicated movements while the blood started to rush back to his head, tossed the lube on the floor, picked up a blanket, and lay down, pulling both Gerard and the blanket on top of him. They were going to be sticky when they woke up, and they could shower then. And order like five pizzas from room service, probably. But it didn’t matter yet. All that mattered was Gerard, beautiful and exhausted and limply sweaty. Ray reached up and tugged off the bandanna, wincing sympathetically as it pulled out a couple of strands of hair. Gerard’s eyes blinked open, small rings of hazel widening as the light hit them. Ray dropped the blindfold off the edge of the bed, gathered Gerard in his arms, and turned the both of them onto their sides, even finding a couple of pillows. After a minute or two, Gerard slipped off to the bathroom, and returned with a glass of water. His hand shook a little when he held it out to Ray, who took a few sips and handed it back. Gerard finished it, set the glass on the nightstand, and Ray hauled him back into bed.
They didn’t have to say anything. Gerard kissed Ray’s shoulder and Ray ran an unsteady hand through his hair, and they passed out in seconds flat.
*******
Sometimes, Christmas Really Does Come Early
Look, Frank was usually happy with whatever came his way, especially where betting pool winnings were concerned. Really fucking happy. Seriously. And he was ecstatic that he and Brendon were finally going to get some time together. They’d had a few missed connections, scorching-hot moments in hallways and parties that never managed to lead anywhere but one of them gasping in the other’s ear that he really needed to get the other alone sometime. Frank was actually pretty proud of his patience on this one. It had been almost three years since the first time he’d kissed Brendon (he’d said that rhythm guitarists did it better and Ryan had told him to prove it) and it had been a month since the last time they’d seen each other. One too-quick makeout session at Reading did not quality time make.
So when Frank had won a bet and Jamia had told him who he’d been betting against, Frank had, well, okay, he’d done a victory dance first. And then stringently reminded himself that it was Brendon fucking Urie and for all Frank knew, it’d be another three years before he could fucking collect. It didn’t stop him from texting Brendon, i win mothafucka, what u gonna give me?
What u want, baby? Frank had needed a second to breathe after reading that.
a fucking night. my bet tho so ur wearin a dress.
It had been seven agonizing minutes before he got a text back. red or black?
But nothing had actually prepared him for the sight of Brendon Urie in a little black off-the-shoulder number with fishnet stockings and motherfucking heels on sitting on the bed of Frank’s hotel room, legs delicately crossed. Nothing. He’d couldn’t believe that he’d managed to win this without cheating. He couldn’t believe Brendon had come through. He couldn’t believe their schedules had actually matched up for a night. He couldn’t believe how fucking good Brendon’s lipstick looked.
And he might have been staring. Open-mouthed. Still in the hallway. Holding the hotel room door. And his bag.
Brendon fucking smirked at him. Fucker. Hot. Goddamn smoking hot motherfucker. Frank stepped into the room and shut the door after putting the ‘Do Not Disturb’ on the handle and dropping his bag in an out of the way place.
“Holy shit, you clean up nice,” Frank managed, and yeah. Not his best line. He knew that. But he had to start somewhere.
“Yeah, shaving my legs wasn’t such a big deal after the manscaping I did for that banana hammock thing,” Brendon said dismissively, kinda missing the point.
And Frank’s brain kind of derailed a little there for a second, because banana hammock. He’d seen the internet too, thankyouverymuch. Jamia had kindly linked him, as well as Lyn Z, Christa, Alicia, and Sarah because apparently he wasn’t covert at all about his crush on Brendon Urie. Girls. They were filthy and amazing. All of them. But right, more pressing matters. Pressing against his jeans, at least.
“How did you get your hair to do that?” Frank asked, reaching to touch. It was kind of impressive. Usually Brendon’s hair was all over the place, either sticking up or back or... You know. Why was he even concerned about hair?
Brendon’s smile turned self conscious for a second and he straightened his shoulders, then snapped back into snarky focus. “It’s called hair product. You should try it sometime.”
“Shuddup. My hair is awesome,” Frank crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look offended and failing.
“Your ‘awesome hair’ makes you look like you’re in high school,” Brendon lifted an eyebrow.
“Like you got any room to talk,” Frank countered.
Brendon chuckled, laughter shaking his shoulders, dress pulling tight across his chest.. “God, we’re twelve, aren’t we?”
“I’ve been told I’m at least seven and a half,” Frank said, finally reaching for Brendon. “Twelve seems like it might be too mature.” Brendon took his hand, and Frank tugged him up off the bed so he could get a good look.
“Mature, huh?” Brendon lifted an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips and looking at Frank. “Is this the part where you say you’ll show me mature anyway?”
Frank was busy checking out Brendon’s legs. “No,” Frank licked his lips. “This is the part where I do really filthy things to you.”
“Like?” Brendon asked, smirking, head tilted and eyes hooded as Frank slid a hand down the black sheath of the dress, leaning in for a quick kiss. Shit, it’d been too long.
“Like eat you out, suck your cock, and fuck you till you scream,” Frank said cheerily, sliding his hand back up and licking Brendon’s chest where it showed.
Brendon squeaked. Frank just looked back up and grinned wickedly. “I wonder how much of that I can do with you still wearing that outfit...”
“Depends on how much outfit,” Brendon offered, cheeks flushed and eyes darkening.
“Depends, huh.” Frank stepped closer, his fingers trailing along the tops of Brendon’s stockings and ghosting further up. “What have you even fucking got on under this thing? Jesusfuck, Brendon.” He said it with admiration, his head shaking. He thumbed the inside of the dress. “You commando under this silk lining? Or is there something else?”
Frank’s hands were halfway up Brendon’s thighs now. He wasn’t in a rush. Fuck, was he ever not in a rush. This was his present, damnit, and he was gonna open it as slowly as he fucking wanted. Brendon’s thighs trembled faintly.
Brendon audibly swallowed and said, “Something else.”
“No garter belt,” Frank observed, fingers dangerously close to where thigh meets hip. At last his fingers brushed lace and sucked in a breath. “Shit, Brendon.”
Brendon smiled.
“Is that...?” Frank asked, exploring the fabric with his hands, what there was of it. His fingers brushed lower. Lace barely contained Brendon’s half-hard cock and Frank knew that’d be something to see. Oh fuck, how he wanted to look, and he would. His hand pressed down just enough to cause Brendon to moan and push against Frank’s hand and Frank smirked and let his hands cup Brendon’s bare ass. “Holy shit, you’re wearing a thong.”
“Well... Yeah?” Brendon licked his lips.
“Down on the bed so I can see you,” Frank guided Brendon backwards, encouraging him to sit and scoot.
Brendon crossed his legs and leaned back, propping himself on his arms, the hem of his dress sliding teasingly up, heeled foot swaying to and fro. He looked like a fucking pinup.
“Tease,” Frank scoffed at Brendon’s crossed legs.
“I’m trying to be a lady,” Brendon chided, allowing Frank to uncross his legs, heels resting on the floor.
“Trying to kill me’s more like it,” Frank muttered, pulling the hem of the fabric up to bunch around the tops of Brendon’s hips. Frank sucked in a breath, because goddamn. What he saw was even better than he’d imagined. Black lace, and Brendon’s hard cock straining obscenely against it, wide filigreed straps of the thong clinging to his hips, dark sheen on the fabric where the tip of his cock was leaking precome. “Fuck.”
Brendon smirked and started to say something catty, but Frank bent down and licked the lace right at the tip of Brendon’s cock. “Frank,” Brendon gasped instead, surprised.
Frank smiled a little and closed his mouth around the tip, sucking at the fabric and working at the lace pattern with his tongue.
“Oh fuck,” Brendon moaned, thigh muscles clenching underneath Frank’s hand. “Jesus Christ.”
Frank kept his mouth on the soft, stretchy lace, trying to take Brendon a little deeper through the fabric and doing his level best to drive him insane. He breathed warm over Brendon’s balls, licked all the way up, tried to open his mouth wide enough to cover as much of Brendon’s dick as he could with wet heat and pressure. Judging by the moans and the way one of Brendon’s hands was frantically trying to find purchase in Frank’s hair, he wasn’t doing a half-bad job.
“Shit, Frank, I could get off like this,” Brendon panted, finding words, and he sounded so fucking hot, but Frank stopped what he was doing. Brendon whined.
Frank kissed the inside of Brendon’s thigh and said, a little breathless, “No.”
“I wanted that,” Brendon pouted.
“Well, yeah,” Frank grinned devilishly. “Been three fuckin’ years, y’better want it.” He kept his tone light, but he knew Brendon could hear the desire in his voice, see it in his face.
“You’re evil,” Brendon fell back with a bounce on the bed, throwing an arm over his face. “Your wife has taught you to be an evil tease.” He thunked his head on the bedframe.
“She’s fantastic, isn’t she?” Frank smiled, a private smile. “But you haven’t seen tease, yet.”
Brendon looked at Frank, eyes hooded, and swallowed. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice suddenly a little rougher.
“Turn over,” Frank said.
“You weren’t kidding.” Brendon gaped for a second.
“Over,” Frank ordered patiently.
Brendon scrambled for purchase against the sheet, sprawled gracelessly, nearly kicked Frank in the balls with a stiletto and scrambled up onto his knees. Once Brendon was settled, he promptly waggled his ass at Frank. “How’s that?”
Frank could hear his smug grin. Brendon had every right to be smug. The way his ass looked, perky and round and almost completely bare, trimmed with scalloped scraps of black lace, peeking out from under the hem of his dress, was just. Yeah. Brendon should be smug. But Frank was gonna wipe the grin off his face anyway.
“It’ll do,” Frank kept his voice surprisingly level, sliding his palm up Brendon’s ass to rest on his hip. He was trying to decide if he wanted to lick over the thin strip of material, move it aside, pull it down, or try to get the flimsy garment off altogether. It was probably considered rude to rip off a dude’s panties on the first date. If that’s what this was. Jesus. Decisions. Fuck it. He’d have a helluva time getting them all the way off without possible bodily harm. He’d reconsider for proper cocksucking. But first.
He slid his finger under the strap of fabric, prying it away from Brendon’s skin just a little, holding it in the crook of his hand, and skimmed down, slowly. His knuckle grazed the skin the inch of fabric had covered, the base of Brendon’s spine, his crack, between his cheeks, his asshole, all the way down to his balls where the material began to widen again. Frank shifted a little, got his face down so he could see and taste, and got a better hold on the fabric, pulling. He followed the top of the thong with his tongue, skimming the skin like his fingers had just done until Brendon’s panties were low around his thighs and Frank had a mouthful of taint and Brendon was gasping, “Oh, shit.”
Frank looked up, admiring the view again, and framed Brendon’s ass with his fingers, enjoying the vulnerable little breathy noises he got when he spread his hands apart to see. Brendon’s asshole was tiny, puckered tight, pink-pale skin Frank wanted to taste. He only made Brendon wait for a few seconds before he licked down again, and this time, he did not stop, and did not stop, and would not stop. He teased, flicking licks all over until Brendon whimpered. Frank firmed up his grip, bit lightly at the skin beside his thumb, dug in his teeth a little, because he had waited, damnit, and he was going to do this right. Or as right as he fucking knew how, which involved blowing Brendon’s mind again and again so he’d come back for more. Brendon stilled, and Frank got back to it, tasting, relishing the choked-off noise Brendon made when Frank pressed the flat of his tongue fully against his asshole, rolling his tongue across the tight muscle slow and wet until Brendon finally relaxed a little. Frank moved his thumbs, letting them almost dip in, spreading Brendon apart for his mouth so he could finally fuck Brendon open with his tongue, loosen him hot and wet, working deeper as his moaning got louder. Gorgeous little fucker squirmed, trying to pull away and trying to push back all at once.
“Fuck, so,” Brendon gasped, moaned, “close, are you trying to kill me, Frank, I can’t...”
Frank pulled away and kissed an ass cheek. “How’s that for a tease?”
“You goddamn asshole,” Brendon groaned. “How the fuck are you so good at that?”
“At what? At this?” Frank asked, licking again, and was gratified when Brendon actually squealed in surprise, slowly darkening to a moan when Frank kept going for another minute. When he thought he’d gotten Brendon back to the edge again, he pulled back, trying to remember the thread of the conversation.
“Trade secrets,” Frank tsked, trying for smooth and only chuckling a little. “Now, do you want me to suck you off?”
Brendon moaned.
“Or do you want me to go ahead and fuck you till you come?” Frank asked.
“How are you even real? I’ve never been so glad to lose a bet in my life, fuck,” Brendon said into his arm.
“How are you still talking coherently? I am very fucking thorough,” Frank scolded, but was grinning ear to ear.
“Spencer usually bitches about that too,” Brendon observed. “Get up here and kiss me already.”
Frank kicked off his own sneakers and lost his sweater. He crawled up the bed as Brendon stretched out on his side, thong still trapped mid-thigh. Frank leaned over, his hand cupping Brendon’s cheek, and kissed him deeply, opening his mouth. Brendon’s tongue slipped inside Frank’s mouth and he tipped his head so Brendon could taste what he tasted.
They pulled back, both gasping. Brendon looked obscene with his red lipstick smeared and lips swollen and wet, and Frank almost couldn’t believe him for a second. Shit. He really loved his life.
He smiled at Brendon.
“What?” Brendon giggled, then chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Just you,” Frank answered and kissed him again, sucking on Brendon’s bottom lip, causing him to make some fascinating noises.
Frank pulled away and shifted up onto his knees and grinned devilishly down at Brendon.
“Step two?” Brendon asked, chewing on his lip again, which made Frank want to chew on Brendon’s lip, too. It briefly crossed Frank’s mind that he might have an oral fixation, but he had more important things to focus on. He was in the middle of unwrapping his present.
Frank shifted so that he could take the tip of Brendon’s leaking cock in his mouth, tasting salty sweat and something very Brendon.
“I like step two,” Brendon gasped, flailing until he got his fists dug into a pillow.
Frank hummed, causing Brendon to buck a little. Taking the base of Brendon’s cock in one hand, Frank hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, tongue teasing the slit and the underside, enjoying the heady taste of Brendon on his tongue.
“Frank, oh fuck,” Brendon babbled. “Shit, you’re good at that, too.”
Frank hummed again and swallowed down to the base causing Brendon to buck and moan and gasp.
“Close, Frankie, Frankie,” Brendon panted. “Frank.”
Frank responded by swallowing him down again and Brendon came with a broken-off cry. Frank swallowed and pulled off with an audible pop.
“Jesuschrist,” Brendon managed, breathing heavily.
Frank grinned and rested his head on Brendon’s thigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m pretty good at that too.”
“No kidding,” Brendon smiled, propping himself up on his elbows. “So, I imagine you’re gonna want to go on to step three, unless you’ll let me taste some of your tattoos?”
“There will be time for tattoo tasting later,” Frank answered. “I’ve never tasted piano keys before.”
Brendon smirked, and kept smiling as Frank rolled off the bed and started digging around his bag for lube and a condom.
“Ya know, while you’re looking, you could lose some clothes,” Brendon offered, dark eyes watching Frank. “Like maybe starting with one of your shirts?”
“I’ve already taken off the sweater,” Frank smirked.
“And you’ve still got two layers,” Brendon frowned, like the thought of so many layers offended him. Maybe they did. The kid did end up in his underwear at Summerfest. Yes, Frank had seen the videos on the internet for that one too, thanks.
“Oh, these shirts,” Frank teased, dropping the lube and condom on the bed. Frank toyed with the hems of his shirts.
“Yes. Those shirts. Please take them off,” Brendon made grabby hands. “And get this thong off while you’re at it.” He shimmied a little to emphasize his point.
Frank shook his head at Brendon, giggling, and pulled off his shirts.
“Oh,” Brendon sucked in a breath.
“What?” Frank smirked and cocked a hip like a smartass.
Brendon audibly swallowed. “You look just as good as I thought you would. And you’ve got more tattoos than I found on the internet. Not that I did any creepy stalking.”
Frank giggled, “Dude, I thought it was just me. And I bet you want me even more naked.”
“Oh, yes please.“ Brendon was smirking, eyes dark.
Frank unzipped his pants and slid them down, along with his underwear and stepped out of them.
“Oh, I want that,” Brendon whispered. “Dress on or off?”
“Not off yet,” Frank said, stalking back over to the bed and hooking his thumbs under the lace trapped on Brendon’s thighs. “We’ll need a shower after this.”
“I’ve heard that there’s a soap you prefer,” Brendon smirked as Frank slid the thong down his legs.
“It is a very awesome shower gel,” Frank said conversationally, tossing the thong somewhere behind him, halfway hoping it got lost and he’d have trophy panties tomorrow. He uncapped the lube, warming it on his fingers, and crawled between Brendon’s legs, admiring Brendon’s half-hard cock. “Now, to shut you up.”
“I’ve been waiting,” Brendon challenged.
Frank smirked and eased a finger in, causing Brendon to make a pleased noise. Frank tucked in a second, an easy slide from the way he’d opened up Brendon with his tongue, and Brendon gasped, his cock leaking now.
“Like that,” Brendon moaned. “More. C’mon, Frank. Been waiting. Christ.”
“Been waiting like I’ve been waiting?” Frank asked, tucking in a third finger, stretching Brendon slow. “Shit. Since that night at the party when Ross dared me?”
“Fuck yes,” Brendon moaned. “Since I saw you across the room.”
“Me too,” Frank bent down to kiss him and tucked in a fourth, fingers shallow but wide, making Brendon buck.
“Ready, shit,” Brendon gasped as Frank pushed against Brendon’s prostate. “Now, c’mon. You impossible fucking tease. Jesus.”
Frank reached for the condom with his free hand and tore it open with his teeth, fumbling a little. Brendon helped roll it down, and wrapped his legs around Frank’s back. Frank lined up and pushed slowly in.
“Shit,” Brendon moaned as Frank bottomed out. “Just as good as I thought it’d be. Shit. C’mon, Frankie. Move already.”
“Holy fuck, Brendon,” Frank gasped, marveling for a minute, forcing himself not fuck Brendon relentlessly into the mattress. He really should have received a medal for his restraint. “So hot and tight for me. Jesus Christ.”
“Move, fucking fuck me,” Brendon begged.
Frank slowly slid out, shifted his hips and pushed back in, picking up a little speed but not too much. Brendon moaned.
“Do you like that?” Frank asked, keeping his strokes agonizingly slow. “Driving you crazy like this. Taking my time,” he teased.
“Frank, shit,” Brendon cursed, panting.
“I could take you apart like this,” Frank said breathlessly, hand reaching to jack Brendon in time with his thrusts, thumb teasing the slit.
“Coming apart for you,” Brendon gasped. “Close. Please.”
“C’mon, Brendon,” Frank encouraged. “Let me see you.”
Brendon locked eyes with him and came with a moan, shooting all over Frank’s hand and his stomach.
Frank quickened his thrusts, hands digging into Brendon’s hips, both of them panting. Brendon grinning at him like a loon, fond and encouraging.
“C’mon, Frank,” Brendon panted, ass clenching, and Frank was done. He came with a shout, hips stuttering, head buried against Brendon’s chest. Brendon’s hands were in his hair, scratching at his scalp.
Frank pulled out with a grunt, legs shaky, tying off the condom as he stumbled for the bathroom. Flushing the condom, he grabbed a washcloth and tossed it into the sink to wet. Frank looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. He had sex hair. Sex hair because of Brendon Urie. Christ, he was ridiculous. He’d go with it. He was happy to be ridiculous.
Washcloth in tow, he made it back to the bed with sturdier legs. Brendon’s hooded eyes followed him and he gave Frank a smile of his own, looking like a wet dream with his dress still pushed obscenely up over his hips. One stocking had rolled down past his knee and the other still clung to his thigh.
“Goddamn,” Brendon said.
“Like what you see?” Frank puffed out his chest a little and then focused on cleaning them both up a little. “And I should say the same to you.”
“Yeah, c’mere,” Brendon made grabby hands.
Frank tossed the cloth back toward the bathroom. If he were home, Jamia would give him shit for that. He smiled to himself, missing her and loving his fucking life, and then settled in beside Brendon.
“You’re still here,” Brendon said, face serious all at once.
“Well yeah,” Frank answered, reaching out to smooth back Brendon’s hair. “Where would I go? I still haven’t gotten you out of your dress.”
Brendon kissed him. “And after that?”
“I figure -- or at least I hope -- that we’ll get some sort of sleep, then some morning sex if there’s time before we gotta do press,” Frank said seriously. “I figure that way, maybe we’ll be able to last until we see each other again.”
“Again?” Brendon asked, something hopeful tucked into the corners of his eyes.
“If you wanna,” Frank shrugged, feeling a little hopeful too. “I’d kind of like to keep you.” He’d already talked to Jamia about it. She was open to it. They hadn’t added anyone to their circle in a while. Sarah seemed into it, and Jamia got along with the girl like gangbusters. “It doesn’t have to be... we spent three years getting this far, you know? Can be whatever you want,” Frank tried to clarify, failing miserably, and maybe babbling a little.
“I’d like that too,” Brendon smiled over Frank’s handwaving, genuine and breath-taking. Christ. How did Frank get so far gone for this kid?
“Good,” Frank beamed. “Now. Let’s get you out of that dress. I have some soap you might want to torture Spencer Smith with. You should try it out first.”
“Sweet,” Brendon grinned back.
Next