Blaming Frank Chapters 1-5
Master Post | Chapters 6-10
Sometimes something messy, but really great, can start with a shower. Maybe they all deserved something a little messy after the year they'd had. Scrapping an album, losing a drummer, embracing art as the weapon, and all of them going back on tour and loving it again probably didn't hurt either-starting back on the world tour in Japan and the excitement of it could also be to blame. But really, it was all Frank's fault.
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[1: The Shower That Started It - Gerard]
"Gee, seriously! You have to try this shit!" Frank insisted, trying his best to drag Gerard toward the bathroom.
"’Have.’ You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." Gerard's denial was firm as he planted himself against the bathroom doorframe to counter Frank's tugging, his fingers clinging to the molding. "Look, my hair is clean. Clean! And I'll just end up smelling like girly flowers like last time. I don't want to smell like flowers, you-- ow! Hydrophilic freak."
"Hey, where did your feminism go? And stop hating on Flying Fox! Jasmine is awesome!" Frank argued, switching to pulling at Gerard's belt buckle instead. "And I'm telling you, this shit is like a hundred times more awesome."
"How is it more awesome?" Gerard asked cautiously, humoring Frank in an attempt to distract him long enough to escape the hotel room. He could hide in Mikey and Ray's room. It would be safe and vegetarian-friendly body wash(tm)-free in their room. They wouldn't have even unwrapped the little soaps. Because they were civilized, and would be playing video games and eating room service. They would let him do that with them. On the other hand, Frank was taking off his clothes, which could be a win. If Gerard could only get him distracted away from this whole shower thing.
"It smells like bees are having sex on you, but they're so busy having sex, they can't be bothered to sting you," Frank explained, tossing Gerard's belt back toward one of the beds. He started trying to get Gerard out of his tight black pants. At this rate, Gerard would have to let one of his hands go unless he wanted to end up in Mikey's room trouser-free--not that it hadn't happened before, but there was a sense of dignity to be considered. Not like Iero. Frankie would walk around naked if a shower was involved. Shameless fucker, wanting to be clean and shit even if that meant wandering around stark naked backstage at Warped. Come to think, Warped would probably have been a lot more fun if they'd just kept hoses closer to the stage.
"Wait, what? How does that even work?" Gerard asked, making a grab at his pants. Frank seized the chance to haul Gerard bodily into the bathroom, in some stupid spider-monkey display of surprise strength or something. Frank was serious about showers, though. Serious enough to probably leave bruises from the doorframe.
"You have to try it," Frank said. "Then you'll see." Frank made quick work of stripping Gerard, even with Gerard half-heartedly batting at his hands. Gerard knew it was a lost cause. He could let Frank have his way now, and somehow get the little fucker back later. It would probably involve coffee procurement. That'd be useful. There were other upsides. Frankie was getting naked now too, as he reached to turn the water on and set the temperature. Naked Frank was always a nice sight to see. Maybe Gerard could taste some of his favorite tattoos.
Gerard resigned himself, letting Frank drag him into the tub and under the warm spray. Gerard pouted as the water drenched his red hair and covered him in general unpleasant wetness. Water was going to get in his ears. His color was going to fade too quickly. Frank was going to be a smug little shit. Okay, that last part was usually unavoidable. And adorable. But the other stuff was so not on.
Frank giggled at him like an asshole, and said, "Oh, don't look so sad. Bees having sex!" Frank grinned, reaching for a bottle that honestly had the words 'It's Raining Men' on it. Gerard was not at all reassured as Frank snapped open the top and squirted a glob of the offensive yellowish gel into his palm and reached up and began washing Gerard's hair.
"Seriously, I can't be trusted to do this myself-Hey!" Gerard's protest was cut short, because it really did smell like bees having sex. Well, okay, an overwhelming honey sweetness, anyway, and was that toffee? Fuck. He sniffed again. Notes of lemon. Well, shit.
"I know! Right?!" Frank looked far too pleased with himself as he tilted Gerard's head back under the spray to encourage him to rinse. He was gentle, though, guiding the water away from Gerard's eyes and ears. Frank reached for a washcloth and lathered that up as well, starting to scrub Gerard’s neck clean of paint. He worked his way down until he was kneeling in the tub, rubbing honeyed soap and cloth over Gerard's thighs and grinning impishly. Gee looked down and smiled back. It was really hard to be angry with Frank’s mouth two inches away from Gerard’s cock. And if only he would keep his mouth there, or preferably a little closer, and stop with the soap thing, but no. The little fucker was all soap and teasing licks, sliding hands and slippery limbs and never quite enough.
“Frankie,” Gerard whined, which only caused Frank to smirk wider. The fucker.
“What?” Frank asked, none-too-innocent, his mouth so close to where Gerard wanted it to be. If he’d just lick him at least. Something. Or get them both out of the shower so they could do some proper fucking.
“Frankie,” Gerard whined again, hips moving on their own. He was moments away from trying to rub one off on Frank’s face out of spite when Frank actually started paying attention.
“Oh,” Frank smirked, fingertips walking over, reaching down to cup Gerard’s balls, thumb brushing over the base of his shaft. “Your whining wouldn’t have something to do with this, would it?”
“Yes,” Gerard grumbled, trying to cling to the rail in the shower, leaning into Frank’s touch, trying to encourage him to start with more friction, more anything. Frank pulled away, biting his lip promisingly, and reached to turn off the water.
It took a while, but they made it out of the tub and as far as the bathroom sink, where Frankie made drying off an act of teasing, cotton ghosting across skin. Finally Gerard took matters into his own hands and pulled Frank into a kiss, slipping his tongue inside that smirking mouth, tasting the smile.
Frank’s hand found its way to Gerard’s cock again and began to stroke, lazy, light, and slow, and Gerard moaned into his kiss. Frankie ran his calloused fingertips over the tip, reaching his hand back again to lick off the precome, touching him again with spit-slick fingers.
Grinding into Frankie’s palm, Gerard cupped one of his hands on Frank’s jaw and tilted Frank’s face to the side. He smelled good. He looked even better, newly-short hair dripping onto his shoulders, dark eyes, soft lips. It made Gerard’s fingers ache for a pencil. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drawn Frank wet, but he wanted to try again. Gerard kissed a trail from the corner of Frank’s mouth along the line of his jaw and down his neck, and licked a long swipe along the scorpion, listening to Frank’s groan.
Allowing himself a small smile, he started tasting the ink down Frankie’s chest, tracing the webbing with the tip of his tongue. Frank squirmed and his hand stopped moving. Gerard jerked back up.
“Hey! Hands. With the stopping.” Gerard said eloquently.
“I didn’t really want to use my hands,” Frank said, grinning fiendishly, and eased down onto his knees.
Gerard made a sound not unlike a whimper as Frank licked down his cock, tongue teasing the vein on the underside. Gerard’s hands clung to the sink as Frank’s mouth, Frank’s sinful, hot, perfect, mouth swallowed him down slowly. He could feel the back of Frank’s throat and Frank’s lips wrapped around to the base and Gerard could only make noises and half-broken curses.
“Shit. Nnngh,” Gerard babbled. “Fuck,” he smoothed his fingers over Frank’s hair, not pulling, not pushing, somehow not fucking Frankie’s mouth. His world had slowed, stopped, narrowed until it was Frankie’s mouth and that was it. Frank hummed encouragement as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, fingers warm and light on his balls and jerking him just hard enough with his other hand.
“‘m gonna, Frank,” Gerard managed, and came into Frank’s mouth and Frank swallowed, fingers still stroking, chasing every last drop.
Frank let Gerard’s cock go with a noisy slurp as Gerard slumped against the sink. This hadn’t exactly been the first step of Gerard’s plan for Frank to pay him back, but Gerard would take it. Now if he could just get some of this sweet soap smell off. He was pretty sure more sex would do the trick, but he’d need to get them out of the bathroom before Frank got any more ideas. If they got dirty in such a convenient area, Frank might decide to wash them again and that shit was so not on. Also, Frank was totally redoing his color for him on Saturday.
Frank stood and sloppily kissed Gerard on the mouth, far too energetic and happy, his hard-on digging into Gerard’s hip.
“Mmm,” Gerard hummed into Frank’s mouth, his hand reaching down to palm Frank’s cock. “Let’s do something about that less vertically.”
“I’m not averse to that,” Frank smiled at Gerard pulled him out of the bathroom and pushed him down onto the nearest bed.
“Imagine my shock,” Gerard said wryly, planting a smacky kiss on his cheek.
“The comforter is scratchy,” Frank complained, but he was grinning as he tugged and kicked at the offensive blanket.
“Oversensitive,” Gerard wrestled the comforter to the floor and ended up sideways on the bed, his head on Frank’s thigh.
“Hello, pot? This is the kettle.” Frank said, smiling fondly.
“Again with the talking,” Gerard grumbled, but was smiling back, because it was Frankie. His Frankie, sounding like a smug little motherfucker, and looking at Gerard like he’d hung the fucking moon.
“Then shut me up,” Frank challenged, and how could Gerard say no to that? He shimmied closer and propped himself up on his hands. He kissed the inside of Frank’s thigh, gently nipping the skin, and Frank made a noise between a sigh and a quiet moan.
“Little more to the left than that,” Frank snarked.
Gerard flipped him off without breaking away from the hickey he’d decided would look spectacular there.
“Oh. Oh fuck,” Frank groaned. “Gee, shit.”
Gerard nuzzled up Frank’s thigh and stopped at his balls, rolling them around on his tongue. He sucked lightly on the delicate skin, then licked a long swipe up to the tip of his cock.
“Yes,” Frank gasped when Gerard’s mouth sank down. Gerard made a pleased noise and wrapped his lips around Frank’s length, and this was good, Gerard could do this for hours, Frank hot and heavy on his tongue. Before he could get a good rhythm going, Frankie’s hand was back between Gerard’s legs.
“Hnngh,” Gerard pulled off of Frank’s cock. “Can’t you see I’m busy, asshole?”
“Well, yeah, but you’re too far away,” Frank complained, eyes shining and adorably whiny as he stroked with long, talented fingers. Gerard’s cock was taking a distinct and happy notice in the proceedings. Traitor. Gerard scooted closer, rolling his eyes, and decided get up onto his knees to get a better angle at Frank’s cock as slick fingers teased his balls. When did Frank get lube? Did he stash it near the pillow when Gerard wasn’t looking? He’d expect no less. Hell, he had come to rely on Frank’s resourcefulness.
Gerard had returned to licking down Frank’s cock when he started squirming again, shifting closer to Gerard. “What are you doing?” Gerard spared him a glance.
“Nothing,” Frank replied, all false innocence.
“Right,” Gerard swallowed back down Frank’s cock causing him to groan and start squirming again, scooting even closer, his shoulder against Gerard’s leg, hand encouraging him to move his leg so he was pretty much straddling Frankie’s face. Wait.
All at once, there was Frank’s mouth, catching the tip of Gerard’s half-hard cock in his mouth and Gerard moaned around Frank’s cock. Gerard felt more than heard Frank’s giggle. Well, two could play at that game. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, flicking his tongue, fingers tight on the shaft, and Frank moaned, pulling off.
“Gee, shit,” Frankie gasped, bucking a little. “Fine.”
Before Gerard could pull off and ask what was so fine, a slick finger slid into his ass, and Gerard practically squawked, thankfully muffled by a mouthful of Frank. But he kept sucking, even as Frank started licking Gerard’s cock again with his finger working deeper into Gerard.
Frank slid a second finger in and started lazily stretching his hole, making Gerard squirm trying to find a better angle, shit, just trying to think. Stupid guitarists and their long, perfect fingers, and their stupid coordination. He swallowed a few times, remembering to breathe, maybe making a couple of high-pitched noises. That must have been good, because Frank gasped, pulling off of Gerard’s cock, stroking instead with his other hand.
“Like that?” Frank asked, smirk evident in his tone, breathless. Still a little shit, even on the brink of orgasm. “Slide so good for me. So hot and tight. Like your mouth. Fuck. So perfect. Shit. Gee. Oh. Your mouth.”
Taking his cue, Gerard swallowed Frank down to the hilt and back up and Frank came undone, bucking up and coming in Gerard’s mouth, his strokes on Gerard’s cock stuttering and then increasing speed. Gerard managed to swallow, more on reflex than any indication of brain function. He was pretty sure his brain was going to leak out of his ears instead. He gave one last lick to Frank’s softening cock and pulled off with a moan as Frank added a third finger.
“Frankie,” Gerard groaned.
Frank bent his fingers and changed angle and hit Gerard’s prostate and he thrust into Frank’s palm. He wanted Frank to do that again, or jack him faster, or both, because he was going completely insane.
“Yeah?” Frank’s voice was sex-rough. “C’mon, Gee,” he encouraged and teased against that sweet spot again.
“Nnngh,” Gerard moaned and came all over Frank’s palm and somehow managed to collapse to the side of Frank, with his head resting on Frank’s hip. Frank’s fingers scratched at Gerard’s scalp, and he lazily brought his other hand up to lick the come off.
“So good,” Frank assured, fingers feeling fantastic and making an even bigger mess of Gerard’s hair.
“Such a little fucker,” Gerard muttered, tilting his head into the touch. “Jesus Christ, you drive me crazy.”
“You love it,” Frank grinned, looking smug. It might be a little deserved.
“Maybe,” Gerard mumbled. “It’s not all bad, I guess.” His fingers splayed across Frank’s belly, tracing the sparrows with his fingers. It was actually kind of great. Everything that involved Frank usually was, though.
“Ungrateful shit,” Frank stuck his tongue out, mocking, like a five year old or something.
“Am not!” Gerard pouted. He really should be able to come up with a better retort, but his brain was still kind of mush. He kissed lazily down to Frank’s thigh.
“Get up here,” Frank made grabby hands. “You’re too far away.”
“You just want to get me up there and have your cuddly way with me,” Gerard grumbled good-naturedly.
“You’re fucking right,” Frank grinned and pulled at Gerard’s arm, limbs tangling as Gerard righted himself. They ended up with Frank spooning him.
“Cuddleslut,” Gerard declared, trying to get comfortable. He could still smell honeyed toffee. With a hint of citrus. It was making him irritable. He wiggled around a bit more.
“What?” Frank mumbled and snuggled in closer, his hand stroking Gerard’s hip and Gerard felt Frank’s half hard cock near his thigh.
“That’s why I’m the little spoon, isn’t it?” Gerard asked, going for a grumpy tone, but smiling, grinding his ass against Frank’s cock.
“Ah, you’re on to my evil plan,” Frank said and then giggled, fully hard and nudging insistently against Gerard’s ass.
“It will only be evil if you don’t do anything about it,” Gerard suggested, tilting his hips.
“Well, twist my arm,” Frank purred in his ear, sliding inside, hips pumping slowly. He worked his way in and out, trying his best to drive Gerard crazy. It was working, and his dick had taken notice again, filling out more the deeper Frank went. He rocked up into Gerard, staying slow and even, like he could do this forever.
Gerard felt like he was unravelling, delicious and inevitable. “I’ll twist something,” Gerard started, remembering that they’d been talking, but cut himself off with a moan when Frankie hit him just right. Finally. “That.” Moan. “Keep, keep doing that. Christ.”
“This?” Frank asked, staying on that good angle. He didn’t speed up, just held Gerard’s hip tightly, like a promise.
“Yes,” Gerard moaned, stroking himself. “That, fuck.”
For once, Frank did as he was told, making his cock hit that spot with every thrust and Gerard moaned for it, rocked against it, whimpered Frank’s name. His orgasm took him by surprise and he came with a shout, tight and wet in cupped fingers. Frank kept thrusting, less measured, less controlled, panting little things that Gerard loved to hear. “Gorgeous like this, always love fucking you, but when you’re like this, fucked-out, fucking gorgeous, so sweet on my cock ‘cause you’ve come for me again and again, take it so good for me, fuck, Gee...” Gerard fucked back into him, curled up and pliant and happily spent, and Frank came with Gerard’s name on his lips, awed and filthy.
They lay there boneless and panting. Frank slid out with a sigh and mumbled something into Gerard’s shoulder.
“Whuzit?” Gerard asked sleepily. “I can’t hear you over my depleted blood supply.”
Frank giggled, “Drama queen. I said one of us should clean up.”
“Tag,” Gerard swatted at Frank’s hip.
“Why me?” Frank argued, but he was still giggling.
“Some asshole made me come three times,” Gerard countered, sounding pretty happy about the whole thing, actually.
“I am awesome,” Frank agreed, yawning.
“Awesome enough to go get a washcloth,” Gerard said, making shooing motions toward the bathroom.
“You’ll probably want to end up under the blankets, too, won’t you?” Frank asked, long-sufferingly, and promptly giggled.
“Blankets wouldn’t go amiss,” Gerard said, feeling sleep settling in.
“Yes, your highness,” Frank stole a kiss and slid out of bed.
Gerard made a contented noise, basking. Frankie was taking care of him, complaining about scratchy blankets and royalty, and all was right with the world.
[2: Coffee Technology and Objectification - Gerard]
The following morning (for some values of morning that include awake after a period of rest and daylight being involved), they met up for coffee and set list planning (which, in band code, meant Super Smash Brothers) in Ray and Mikey's room. Gerard ambled in, grabbed a carafe of coffee, and sprawled across his brother's bed, confident that he no longer smelled like bees fucking. Just him and Frank fucking, thank you very much. Again, and again, and again. He curled up on his stomach next to Mikey and stole a pillow, trying not to look too much like a smug motherfucker. The rest of the guys were talking about something.
"You're right. He totally has that face." Ray appeared in Gerard's peripheral vision. Gerard worked on making the carafe dispense coffee. It stubbornly resisted his attempts.
"I told you," said Mikey dryly. "Right eyebrow down a little, tongue at the back of his teeth, left corner of his mouth turned up."
"How did I not notice?" Frank looked over.
Gerard was now the uncomfortable center of attention. "What?" They shouldn't make coffee technology difficult.
Frank snorted, trying not to laugh. "You have a face."
"Ye-ess.... and? Ha!" Mug. Coffee. Excellent.
Mikey sighed. "Frank was going to come in and tell us all about his prowess, but then he decided to be all mysterious and shit, so I told him there wasn't a point, even if you didn't tell me later I would know."
"Is there enough coffee in the world? Know what?"
Ray laughed. "Mikey can, apparently, tell how many times you came the previous night."
“What.” Gerard’s tone was flat.
Frank tousled Gerard's hair. "Aww, now that face, I know. That's the ‘I'm-being-objectified’ face."
Gerard poured a second cup and sat up to look at his traitorous brother. "Hmph."
"Oh come on, it's totally obvious," Mikey said. Gerard just raised an eyebrow and primly took another sip of coffee, doing his best to look like he was above all this bullshit and in no way cared about his brother's accuracy.
"Three."
Gerard made a choking-coughing sound and tried to go back to sipping primly. He failed. Frank, by the sound of it, was going to break a rib laughing this hard. "Fuck you. I am discreet, and, and, okay, not subtle, but at least kind of opaque! I am... only moderately translucent!" At this point, Frank and Ray were just making wheezing noises, and even Mikey was biting his lip, trying not to laugh outright.
"Gee..." Mikey broke off to chuckle, which he did not cover at all with the faint sound of clearing his throat, "...actually, it's when you're trying to be discreet that it's a giveaway." Gerard raised an eyebrow as his asshole bandmates recovered enough to listen to his asshole brother.
Assholes.
"It's kind of sweet, really. 'Cause when you've had one, you're just kind of looking around for the next one, and your eyebrows are always up, and when you've had two, you're in a good mood and you smirk when you think other people aren't looking, and when you've had three, you think it would be really rude to talk about how much you're getting when other people maybe aren't getting any, so you try really hard not to look like you got any. But when you've had four, you're relaxed enough that you don't give a shit."
"Or you're asleep," Ray laughed. “Four. Jesus wept. Are you sure he doesn’t have some kind of Dorian Gray thing going on?”
Mikey laughed. “Some little portrait of his junk in an attic somewhere, slowly shrivelling.”
Gerard finished his second cup and glared at Frank. "This is all your fault."
Frank leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his neck in a fake-casual way, chest puffed up.
"You bet your ass."
"If you hadn't made me use that smelly stuff, I wouldn't have had to make everything smell like sex instead."
"Hey, I won't trouble you with my good shit, then," Frank said, completely unconcerned.
"What stuff?" Ray was curious now.
"Smell his hair."
Gerard rolled his eyes as Mikey and Ray stepped over. He was being sniffed. Ray sat back down on his bed. "Dude, don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of want to eat your hair."
Mikey was still smelling his brother. And making little humming noises.
"Stopit." Gerard twitched his shoulder away from Mikey, whose eyes had gotten kind of... hungry. "I totally get Pikachu now, if we're done making fun of me and sniffing my head?"
"Yeah, whatever, I bet I can still beat you."
"Not if you can't have Yoshi. I'm setting you up to play Kirby, motherfucker."
“Then we’re playing that one level where you always fall off and die, asswipe.”
"Hey, gimme that..."
[3: Sweaty Bassists Need Showers Too - Frank]
Another blessed hotel night and Frank started to follow Gerard into the room. He was actually looking forward to some sleep, but Mikey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Ray lifted a eyebrow in question and Mikey nodded towards Gerard's room. Ray shrugged and followed Gerard in and closed the door.
"What, oh," Frank said, catching on and pleasantly surprised. He might get to snuggle. Mikey was laid-back enough to snuggle. Like a puppy pile. But with only two people. Two people could be a pile. Frank could totally go for that right now, with a sweaty bassist, all on their own. Maybe Frank was a little delirious with fatigue and still riding the stage high. Actually, he'd snuggle a little right now, he decided, and leaned heavily against Mikey. Mikey was warm and still until he opened the door and led them into the room. Then he was still warm, but more wiggly.
Frank burrowed his nose and face into Mikey's chest and inhaled. Mikey smelled kind of nice in a way, tangy sweat with some musk underneath. And oranges, maybe.
"Bees fucking," Frankie decided. That's what Mikey needed to smell like. His second wind was kicking in. He was pretty sure. He had a Mikeyway. He had his bag. His bag had his soap. And a shower was in order.
Frank pulled away to look at Mikey, and found a smirk in the corner of his mouth and something fond there. "What about bees fucking, Frankie?"
"It's something magical that can happen in the shower," Frank explained, giving a lewd wink, which he ruined by giggling.
"I really thought you'd be more interested in the bed," Mikey offered.
"Well yeah, but showers are awesome too, first, and then bed," Frank clarified.
"The bees fucking smell is kinda nice," Mikey agreed, smiling a little, bending down to catch Frank's lips with his mouth. Mikey's were chapped, of course. The guy was cool as fuck, but sometimes he sucked at taking care of himself. Sometimes a lot. Not in the last few years, but Frank remembered when there were things far more threatening than a little chapstick; immanent and frightening. He took a breath. He'd better do something, before he got all nostalgic or protective or some shit.
Frank tilted his head and nuzzled at Mikey's jaw. He loved Mikey's jaw. The strong line of it, the way it curved up to his ear, the way it felt under his lips when there was a little bit of stubble. That wasn't quite what he was after, though. No, he wanted Mikey to make that noise. Frank liked that noise a lot. Placing his lips in the dip where jaw meets neck, he gave a quick lick, then went in for the kill, teeth and vacuum and the feeling of blood warming the skin just under his tongue. Frank sucked a glorious hickey into existence, and Mikey made the groan-moan noise Frank was so fond of. It started all rumbly, and wound up somewhere in the vicinity of a porn soundtrack. It was perfect, and combined with Mikey's now-twitching hips, made it incredibly difficult to make quick work of Mikey's pants. He managed eventually, hands playing counterpoint to his mouth with a few little bites and suckles, and followed quickly with the rest of his clothes.
"You are like a little teacup octopus," Mikey muttered. Stealing another kiss, he worked on getting Frank naked, starting with his pants.
"Hey!" Frank tried for affronted, but couldn't help humming I’m a Little Teapot. "Such a dork. Teacup octopus my ass."
"That's what I'm saying," Mikey countered, trying to get Frank’s shirt off, and failing. Frank had things to do, important ones like groping, reaching to turn on the water, maneuvering weirdly-folded hotel towels. And then it was time for other important things, like letting his mouth drift down Mikey's chest and halting at the jut of his hip bone where Frank's lips settled and sucked another bright red circle and moan from Mikey.
"Shower, Frankie," Mikey urged, as the steam from the shower started to cloud the mirror.
"Right, yeah," Frank mumbled, his nose edging closer to Mikey's cock, which had apparently noticed that something interesting was going on. Frank was interested right back, thank you very much.
"Bees fucking," Mikey reminded both of them, maybe a little desperately, "Cocksucking somewhere less slippery."
It was a little saddening, really, this whole safety business. Frank gave amazing head, and he knew it, but he was also pretty sure Gerard would never forgive either of them if they died naked in the bathroom. Even Ray would frown on that. His big shoulders would tense and he would cross his arms, and furrow his brow, and Frown. Frank’s stomach flip-flopped as he tasted the other side of Mikey’s hip, and thoughts of Ray could wait, because Mikey was moaning. Frank smiled against his stomach and then stood, pulling off his shirt. Mikey’s hair was curling from the steam, and his lips were parted, and his eyes were bright, and Frank couldn't resist kissing him, pulling that lower lip into his mouth.
“Right.” Frank reminded himself why they were there, and hauled them both into the tub and under the spray. Mikey's head was directly under the showerhead and he took advantage of his longer hair to sling water into Frank's face.
"Hey asshole," Frank giggled, ducking and reaching for the bottle of body wash. "Are you five all of a sudden?"
"Yeah, you're one to talk," Mikey muttered, but he was smiling. “I’ll have you know I’m six, at the minimum. You’re the five-year-old.”
Frank giggled more and reached up to work the soap into Mikey's hair, deft fingers massaging his scalp. Mikey looked like he was close to purring. Frank was tactile and quickly thorough washing the rest of Mikey, with his hands lingering teasingly in all the right places and Mikey playfully batting them off to wash Frank. Slippery hands and mouths reaching and wrapping and sucking - maybe they were both cephalopods. Maybe Frank didn’t care.
Rinsed and still mostly wet they stumbled out of the shower and toward the nearest bed. Frank gently shoved Mikey toward it and he took the hint, flopping easily on the snow-white comforter. Everything was so clean. And quiet. Frank grabbed the bottle of lube from his bag.
"Turn over," Frank encouraged.
"So bossy," Mikey muttered good-naturedly, and rolled onto his belly.
Frank fiddled with the bottle, "Oh, you haven't seen bossy," he joked, trying for his best sultry tone but only succeeding in giggling more.
"Shutup," Mikey challenged, smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, and waited.
"Make me," Frank countered, never one to disappoint.
Mikey arched up onto his hands and knees, stretching languidly. Warm from the shower, clean and with a few silvery beads of water still on his skin, oh, he had to know how good he looked. His spine curved, he let his head tilt back, his knees spread, not quite waggling his hips, but definitely making his point.
"Oh," Frank spoke, more of an exhale of air than a word, abandoning the bottle of lube near them on the bed. It wasn't important. The bed wasn't important. Fuck. Nothing was as important as the delicious golden boy in front of him. Mikey-fuckin'-Way, ladies and gentlemen. All Frank's right now, and he couldn't keep his hands away from that ass if he tried, like he’d stop breathing if he couldn’t. Frank kissed the dip at the base of Mikey's spine, right above the curve of his ass. Gentle, almost reverent, and Mikey shivered. Then Frank's tongue darted out and licked, a long swipe, and Mikey gasped.
"Frankie," he breathed, sounding just this side of needy. Frank paused for just a moment, and licked again, and didn't stop. Mikey let his head fall onto his hands and started making a noise like he was dying, only it was incredibly fantastic, and it was what Frank had been hoping to hear, and he wanted more. He spread Mikey open with his thumbs, flicked his tongue until he heard a whimper. Frank pointed his tongue to dart inside, working into the taut ring of muscle. That was it. Mikey moaned like a desperate, needy porn star or hungry cat or something, it didn’t matter, it was the sound of Frank short-circuiting his brain and it was glorious. Mikey’s hands fisted the sheets and his legs trembled a little as Frank's tongue plunged a little deeper into his ass, then swirled shallowly.
"Fuck, Frankie, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Nnngh," Mikey groaned, causing Frank to hum in response. It buzzed on his lips, and he knew Mikey could feel it.
"Frankie, fuck me," Mikey begged. "Shit. C'mon. Frankie."
Frank gave one final lick, kissed a cheek and said, "How's that for shutting up?"
"Fuckingchrist," was all Mikey could manage.
Frank made a pleased noise, and reached for the lube, applying liberally, hissing appreciatively at the slide of his own fingers. Frank lined up and started nudging Mikey's tight hole, just dipping and rubbing, adding more lube and doing his level best to drive them both insane, until Mikey reached back and spread himself apart. It was an effort of will on Frank's part, the way he pressed in slow and stopped, gasping as his balls brushed against Mikey's ass. He did not come immediately, he did not pin Mikey and fuck him 'till he screamed, he didn't even twitch that much. Effort. Of. Will.
It helped that Mikey was so hot and tight he didn't know if he could do any of those things, but still.
"Fucking move," Mikey urged, trying to move away, but Frank's hands on his hips held him steady and Frank took his time sliding out and back in. Slowly, and it was good, it wasn’t quite enough, but it was everything, and then Frank shifted his angle. He sped up a little and hit Mikey right, and it was good, no, it was perfect, and Mikey lifted his head and arched his back and it was too much for both of them.
"Close, Mikes, close," Frankie panted and reached around to jack Mikey's cock.
"Frank, fuck," Mikey moaned and came all over Frank's hand. Frank might have felt bad about not making this last longer if he thought he could feel bad about anything ever again, but there was no room for any of that. No room for anything but Mikey, pale and twitching around him, pulsing tightly. Frank panted, grunted, and came, half sprawling on Mikey's back and half propped on one arm. He kissed the back of Mikey's neck, communicating... something.
"Yeah," Mikey murmured, looking completely boneless, slumping contentedly.
Frank nuzzled the back of Mikey's neck and withdrew gently with a satisfied groan. Frank wiped his hand off on the sheets and gave them both a swipe to remove any stray lube and come. He wrapped an arm around Mikey's waist and dragged them both over to the other bed.
"Mmph," Mikey protested intelligently.
"Just a sec, Mikes," Frank reassured, tugging back the covers and pushing Mikey under them and sliding in behind him. "Two beds, no wet spot."
"I take it back," Mikey mumbled, tucking his head next to Frank's. His hair was still mostly wet. He was gonna give Frank shit for that in the morning. It would be worth it.
"What?" Frank asked, flipping off the light and snuggling in, wrapping and twining around Mikey like a teacup octopus again.
"You're at least seven and a half," Mikey answered.
Frank giggled, "Night, Mikey."
Mikey hummed in response and fell asleep.
[4: Guitarists Are Crafty - Gerard]
Coffee. Gerard's hindbrain was asking for coffee. It was important. It would help him open his eyes. Open his eyes to whatever the fuck was going on in the lounge. Weirdness. Not the ritual playing of the Xbox. Especially if a hairdo was involved. Wait. What.
"Are you braiding Ray's hair?" Gerard asked, bleary eyes finally focusing on the apparent morning slumber-party that was happening on their bus.
"Yes," Frank chirped, grinning like an asshole while his hands deftly and complicatedly did things to Ray's hair that actually didn't look half bad. Fuckin' Frankie being a braider person. Who’d’ve figured. Gerard would have thought by now that he knew all of Frank's weird hidden talents.
"A French braid," Mikey clarified, like a pedantic asshole, his chin propped on Frank's shoulder watching Frank’s fingers at work.
Gerard nodded. Of course it was a French braid. Of course. Right. He needed more coffee before he was ready to experience Frank and Mikey's Advanced and Practical Macramé Techniques(: For Fun and Profit!). He filled his mug and promptly shuffled back to his bunk. It was safe there. Hairstyles didn't live there. Although it was kind of nice seeing the sides of Ray’s head, he mused fuzzily. It’d been a long time.
He lasted all of three minutes lounging in his bunk until his curiosity got the better of him. He wandered back up front. Anyway, he'd finished his first mug. He should have taken the pot. If they braided his hair he would kill them. Well, unless it looked cool. Unlikely. Killing. Assholes. Coffee.
"Want us to do yours next?" Mikes asked, doing that psychic thing he was apparently good at.
Or maybe Gerard just broadcasted more before his third cup of coffee.
Gerard made a noncommittal sound and went back to sipping his coffee. Something about Mikey this morning. He tried to put his finger on it, staring at his brother. His super comfy-looking, relaxed, snuggling brother.
Mikey lifted his eyebrows, which Gerard met with a pointed look, and Mikey rolled his eyes and went back to braid-watching.
"Assholes! You fucked!" Gerard realized, maybe feeling a little triumphant. And pointing at the two just a little. And thinking maybe they should have invited him. He certainly didn’t get laid last night. Because Ray was... Ray, and Gerard didn’t really know where to go with that. Okay, Gerard thought he knew where he wanted to go with that, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if Ray wanted to go there, either. It could be that he was being too subtle. Maybe he was just bad at this sort of thing, period. Maybe he should stop this train of thought right the fuck now. He shook his head, trying to clear it.
"He's eight, if you were wondering," Mikey said sagely to Frank and Frank giggled like a motherfucker knowing the context of that shit would.
"And what am I?" Ray asked, catching on. Whether or not Ray understood subtlety, he understood non-linear conversations pretty well, apparently. Or maybe he got a knowledge bonus for the braiding. Plus ten to INT score through hair-knot osmosis circumstance bonus or some shit. Or they could just be assholes.
"Twelve," Frank decided, finishing off the first braid and tying off the end with a band that Mikey handed him.
Oh. "What's the age of my inner child got to do with anything before noon anyway?" Gerard asked, maybe whining a little like the eight-year-old he apparently was. "And why does Toro get to be fucking twelve?"
Frank and Mikes gave him significant looks while Ray simply lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Then they all giggled.
"Fuck you both, very much," Gerard muttered, pouring himself one more cup of coffee and sipping it defiantly, or as close as he could manage.
"We would, but there's not a lot of room in the back," Mikey said, smirking.
"Yeah, a real bed is fun when we do that sort of thing," Frankie agreed, looking a little distant. Maybe even remembering that first time. Oh fuck. That first time. When his little brother surprised the shit out of him by going along with it. And being amazing in the sack like Gerard knew he would be. How could Mikey be anything but amazing in the sack? It was Mikey. And the sounds he made, and shit, now Gerard was half-hard thinking about it, and those two fuckers were grinning like they knew what he was thinking. Right. He was going back to his bunk right the fuck now.
"Assholes," Gerard muttered and retreated to not jerk off in his bunk. Nope. Too early for that shit.
Before he could climb back into bed, Mikey caught his elbow. Gerard turned just enough to eye his brother suspiciously. "What, Mikes?" he asked.
"C'mon," Mikey said and pulled Gerard into his bunk. They stretched out side-by-side with Mikey slinging an arm over him, and Gerard nuzzling at the side of Mikey's face with his nose.
"You smell like bees fucking," Gerard said and settled. Mikey hummed in agreement.
"Frankie.” Mikey shrugged. “Now go to sleep and wake up less cranky," he said, teasing.
"Fucking later?" Gerard asked and yawned.
"Fucking later," Mikey agreed. Gerard drifted off with a smile on his face.
[5: Grumpiness Was Never an Option - Gerard]
Gerard woke with Mikey’s hand snaking into his briefs and he smiled, humming a sleepy encouragement.
“Are you still cranky?” Mikey asked, low and tickly in Gerard’s ear. His fingers wrapped around Gerard’s halfway-asleep cock and began stroking, encouraging it to fill.
“I could be,” Gerard said defensively.
“Nope,” Mikey said good-naturedly, “Pretty sure you’d have trouble being cranky right now.” Gerard opened his eyes a little to express his doubt, then paused.
“You’re naked.”
“Yep.”
“Huh. Point taken,” Gerard mused reasonably, and lifted his ass so Mikey could slide off his underwear, which was promptly shoved somewhere down at the foot of the bunk as Mikey retrieved a bottle of lube from Gerard’s stash.
Mikey started to work himself open and Gerard groaned, “Mikey.” He reached down and slid his cock into his fist, lazily fucking up into his hand.
“On second thought, you do-- ah-- sound a little cranky,” Mikey teased, breath hitching as he rocked back against his own fingers.
“C’mon, Mikeyway,” Gerard urged, knowing just by the clench of his jaw that Mikey had worked up to three fingers.
“Impatient, at least, fuck,” Mikey moaned, removing his fingers. “On your back.”
“Bossy,” Gerard grumbled, but he was smiling as Mikey leaned over him, shooing Gerard’s hands away.
Mikey rolled his eyes and stole a quick kiss as he climbed on top of his brother, carefully nudging a knee over as he fumbled for the lube again. He slicked Gerard up, grinning at the moan he got in response, left hand braced on Gerard’s shoulder and his right hand lining himself up. He eased down onto Gerard’s cock, head tilting back, mouth opening soundlessly.
“Mikey,” Gerard moaned, more of an awed exhale of breath than anything, and it cut into a gasp when he felt the touch of Mikey’s ass next to his balls.
“Mmmm?” Mikey hummed, trying to figure out where to put his right hand, his hair brushing the top of the bunk, his hard dick bobbing a little with the movement. Gerard licked his lips.
“Breathe, Mikes,” Gerard reminded, taking his brother’s other hand and putting it on his shoulder. Gerard’s own hands found their way to Mikey’s hips, gripping, waiting to encourage Mikey to ride him. Mikey slid up gingerly, and sighed as he sank back down.
“Ohh.” Mikey swallowed. His fingers dug into Gerard’s collarbones a little. It was good, but nowhere near as good as the wet tightness enveloping him. Hot and perfect and so very Mikey.
“Yeah?” Gerard asked, tightening his own fingers, urging Mikey up again.
“Yeah,” Mikey agreed, gasping as he started to get a rhythm. Gerard’s hips thrust up, meeting Mikey thrust for thrust. “Fuck,” he panted.
“C’mon, Mikey,” Gerard groaned at the heat and the pace.
Mikey shifted the angle, leaning more on Gerard, and moaned something unintelligible around the note of middle c and Gerard almost came undone.
“Mikey,” Gerard urged, reaching to stroke Mikey’s leaking cock.
“Gee, fuck, Gee,” Mikey spluttered and came all over Gerard’s hand.
“Gotcha, Mikes, gotcha,” Gerard whispered desperately before losing the power of speech. Anyone would, inside tighthot perfect Mikey coming around his cock, and Jesus, there just weren’t words, and he lasted three more thrusts before coming with a shout.
Mikey kissed the bend of Gerard’s neck, resting heavily on his chest. Gerard stroked Mikey’s back. Mikey kissed him once more and then eased off Gerard with a grunt.
“Umpf,” Gerard mumbled. He felt very sleepy again, but, it had to be acknowledged, much less cranky. Mikey moved away and he reached for him.
“Hang on a sec,” Mikey reassured, grabbing Gerard’s discarded underwear and giving them a quick wipe-down.
“Hey, those were mostly clean,” Gerard protested, out of principle more than anything else.
“Bullshit,” Mikey countered cheerfully.
“Point,” Gerard grudgingly agreed as Mikey pulled a sheet up to drape over them and snuggled in. Gerard slung an arm over and kissed Mikey.
Mikey smiled. “Love you,” he said, kissing again.
“Love you too, Mikes,” Gerard smiled back and drifted off to sleep once more.
Master Post | Next
Sometimes something messy, but really great, can start with a shower. Maybe they all deserved something a little messy after the year they'd had. Scrapping an album, losing a drummer, embracing art as the weapon, and all of them going back on tour and loving it again probably didn't hurt either-starting back on the world tour in Japan and the excitement of it could also be to blame. But really, it was all Frank's fault.
*********
[1: The Shower That Started It - Gerard]
"Gee, seriously! You have to try this shit!" Frank insisted, trying his best to drag Gerard toward the bathroom.
"’Have.’ You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." Gerard's denial was firm as he planted himself against the bathroom doorframe to counter Frank's tugging, his fingers clinging to the molding. "Look, my hair is clean. Clean! And I'll just end up smelling like girly flowers like last time. I don't want to smell like flowers, you-- ow! Hydrophilic freak."
"Hey, where did your feminism go? And stop hating on Flying Fox! Jasmine is awesome!" Frank argued, switching to pulling at Gerard's belt buckle instead. "And I'm telling you, this shit is like a hundred times more awesome."
"How is it more awesome?" Gerard asked cautiously, humoring Frank in an attempt to distract him long enough to escape the hotel room. He could hide in Mikey and Ray's room. It would be safe and vegetarian-friendly body wash(tm)-free in their room. They wouldn't have even unwrapped the little soaps. Because they were civilized, and would be playing video games and eating room service. They would let him do that with them. On the other hand, Frank was taking off his clothes, which could be a win. If Gerard could only get him distracted away from this whole shower thing.
"It smells like bees are having sex on you, but they're so busy having sex, they can't be bothered to sting you," Frank explained, tossing Gerard's belt back toward one of the beds. He started trying to get Gerard out of his tight black pants. At this rate, Gerard would have to let one of his hands go unless he wanted to end up in Mikey's room trouser-free--not that it hadn't happened before, but there was a sense of dignity to be considered. Not like Iero. Frankie would walk around naked if a shower was involved. Shameless fucker, wanting to be clean and shit even if that meant wandering around stark naked backstage at Warped. Come to think, Warped would probably have been a lot more fun if they'd just kept hoses closer to the stage.
"Wait, what? How does that even work?" Gerard asked, making a grab at his pants. Frank seized the chance to haul Gerard bodily into the bathroom, in some stupid spider-monkey display of surprise strength or something. Frank was serious about showers, though. Serious enough to probably leave bruises from the doorframe.
"You have to try it," Frank said. "Then you'll see." Frank made quick work of stripping Gerard, even with Gerard half-heartedly batting at his hands. Gerard knew it was a lost cause. He could let Frank have his way now, and somehow get the little fucker back later. It would probably involve coffee procurement. That'd be useful. There were other upsides. Frankie was getting naked now too, as he reached to turn the water on and set the temperature. Naked Frank was always a nice sight to see. Maybe Gerard could taste some of his favorite tattoos.
Gerard resigned himself, letting Frank drag him into the tub and under the warm spray. Gerard pouted as the water drenched his red hair and covered him in general unpleasant wetness. Water was going to get in his ears. His color was going to fade too quickly. Frank was going to be a smug little shit. Okay, that last part was usually unavoidable. And adorable. But the other stuff was so not on.
Frank giggled at him like an asshole, and said, "Oh, don't look so sad. Bees having sex!" Frank grinned, reaching for a bottle that honestly had the words 'It's Raining Men' on it. Gerard was not at all reassured as Frank snapped open the top and squirted a glob of the offensive yellowish gel into his palm and reached up and began washing Gerard's hair.
"Seriously, I can't be trusted to do this myself-Hey!" Gerard's protest was cut short, because it really did smell like bees having sex. Well, okay, an overwhelming honey sweetness, anyway, and was that toffee? Fuck. He sniffed again. Notes of lemon. Well, shit.
"I know! Right?!" Frank looked far too pleased with himself as he tilted Gerard's head back under the spray to encourage him to rinse. He was gentle, though, guiding the water away from Gerard's eyes and ears. Frank reached for a washcloth and lathered that up as well, starting to scrub Gerard’s neck clean of paint. He worked his way down until he was kneeling in the tub, rubbing honeyed soap and cloth over Gerard's thighs and grinning impishly. Gee looked down and smiled back. It was really hard to be angry with Frank’s mouth two inches away from Gerard’s cock. And if only he would keep his mouth there, or preferably a little closer, and stop with the soap thing, but no. The little fucker was all soap and teasing licks, sliding hands and slippery limbs and never quite enough.
“Frankie,” Gerard whined, which only caused Frank to smirk wider. The fucker.
“What?” Frank asked, none-too-innocent, his mouth so close to where Gerard wanted it to be. If he’d just lick him at least. Something. Or get them both out of the shower so they could do some proper fucking.
“Frankie,” Gerard whined again, hips moving on their own. He was moments away from trying to rub one off on Frank’s face out of spite when Frank actually started paying attention.
“Oh,” Frank smirked, fingertips walking over, reaching down to cup Gerard’s balls, thumb brushing over the base of his shaft. “Your whining wouldn’t have something to do with this, would it?”
“Yes,” Gerard grumbled, trying to cling to the rail in the shower, leaning into Frank’s touch, trying to encourage him to start with more friction, more anything. Frank pulled away, biting his lip promisingly, and reached to turn off the water.
It took a while, but they made it out of the tub and as far as the bathroom sink, where Frankie made drying off an act of teasing, cotton ghosting across skin. Finally Gerard took matters into his own hands and pulled Frank into a kiss, slipping his tongue inside that smirking mouth, tasting the smile.
Frank’s hand found its way to Gerard’s cock again and began to stroke, lazy, light, and slow, and Gerard moaned into his kiss. Frankie ran his calloused fingertips over the tip, reaching his hand back again to lick off the precome, touching him again with spit-slick fingers.
Grinding into Frankie’s palm, Gerard cupped one of his hands on Frank’s jaw and tilted Frank’s face to the side. He smelled good. He looked even better, newly-short hair dripping onto his shoulders, dark eyes, soft lips. It made Gerard’s fingers ache for a pencil. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drawn Frank wet, but he wanted to try again. Gerard kissed a trail from the corner of Frank’s mouth along the line of his jaw and down his neck, and licked a long swipe along the scorpion, listening to Frank’s groan.
Allowing himself a small smile, he started tasting the ink down Frankie’s chest, tracing the webbing with the tip of his tongue. Frank squirmed and his hand stopped moving. Gerard jerked back up.
“Hey! Hands. With the stopping.” Gerard said eloquently.
“I didn’t really want to use my hands,” Frank said, grinning fiendishly, and eased down onto his knees.
Gerard made a sound not unlike a whimper as Frank licked down his cock, tongue teasing the vein on the underside. Gerard’s hands clung to the sink as Frank’s mouth, Frank’s sinful, hot, perfect, mouth swallowed him down slowly. He could feel the back of Frank’s throat and Frank’s lips wrapped around to the base and Gerard could only make noises and half-broken curses.
“Shit. Nnngh,” Gerard babbled. “Fuck,” he smoothed his fingers over Frank’s hair, not pulling, not pushing, somehow not fucking Frankie’s mouth. His world had slowed, stopped, narrowed until it was Frankie’s mouth and that was it. Frank hummed encouragement as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, fingers warm and light on his balls and jerking him just hard enough with his other hand.
“‘m gonna, Frank,” Gerard managed, and came into Frank’s mouth and Frank swallowed, fingers still stroking, chasing every last drop.
Frank let Gerard’s cock go with a noisy slurp as Gerard slumped against the sink. This hadn’t exactly been the first step of Gerard’s plan for Frank to pay him back, but Gerard would take it. Now if he could just get some of this sweet soap smell off. He was pretty sure more sex would do the trick, but he’d need to get them out of the bathroom before Frank got any more ideas. If they got dirty in such a convenient area, Frank might decide to wash them again and that shit was so not on. Also, Frank was totally redoing his color for him on Saturday.
Frank stood and sloppily kissed Gerard on the mouth, far too energetic and happy, his hard-on digging into Gerard’s hip.
“Mmm,” Gerard hummed into Frank’s mouth, his hand reaching down to palm Frank’s cock. “Let’s do something about that less vertically.”
“I’m not averse to that,” Frank smiled at Gerard pulled him out of the bathroom and pushed him down onto the nearest bed.
“Imagine my shock,” Gerard said wryly, planting a smacky kiss on his cheek.
“The comforter is scratchy,” Frank complained, but he was grinning as he tugged and kicked at the offensive blanket.
“Oversensitive,” Gerard wrestled the comforter to the floor and ended up sideways on the bed, his head on Frank’s thigh.
“Hello, pot? This is the kettle.” Frank said, smiling fondly.
“Again with the talking,” Gerard grumbled, but was smiling back, because it was Frankie. His Frankie, sounding like a smug little motherfucker, and looking at Gerard like he’d hung the fucking moon.
“Then shut me up,” Frank challenged, and how could Gerard say no to that? He shimmied closer and propped himself up on his hands. He kissed the inside of Frank’s thigh, gently nipping the skin, and Frank made a noise between a sigh and a quiet moan.
“Little more to the left than that,” Frank snarked.
Gerard flipped him off without breaking away from the hickey he’d decided would look spectacular there.
“Oh. Oh fuck,” Frank groaned. “Gee, shit.”
Gerard nuzzled up Frank’s thigh and stopped at his balls, rolling them around on his tongue. He sucked lightly on the delicate skin, then licked a long swipe up to the tip of his cock.
“Yes,” Frank gasped when Gerard’s mouth sank down. Gerard made a pleased noise and wrapped his lips around Frank’s length, and this was good, Gerard could do this for hours, Frank hot and heavy on his tongue. Before he could get a good rhythm going, Frankie’s hand was back between Gerard’s legs.
“Hnngh,” Gerard pulled off of Frank’s cock. “Can’t you see I’m busy, asshole?”
“Well, yeah, but you’re too far away,” Frank complained, eyes shining and adorably whiny as he stroked with long, talented fingers. Gerard’s cock was taking a distinct and happy notice in the proceedings. Traitor. Gerard scooted closer, rolling his eyes, and decided get up onto his knees to get a better angle at Frank’s cock as slick fingers teased his balls. When did Frank get lube? Did he stash it near the pillow when Gerard wasn’t looking? He’d expect no less. Hell, he had come to rely on Frank’s resourcefulness.
Gerard had returned to licking down Frank’s cock when he started squirming again, shifting closer to Gerard. “What are you doing?” Gerard spared him a glance.
“Nothing,” Frank replied, all false innocence.
“Right,” Gerard swallowed back down Frank’s cock causing him to groan and start squirming again, scooting even closer, his shoulder against Gerard’s leg, hand encouraging him to move his leg so he was pretty much straddling Frankie’s face. Wait.
All at once, there was Frank’s mouth, catching the tip of Gerard’s half-hard cock in his mouth and Gerard moaned around Frank’s cock. Gerard felt more than heard Frank’s giggle. Well, two could play at that game. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, flicking his tongue, fingers tight on the shaft, and Frank moaned, pulling off.
“Gee, shit,” Frankie gasped, bucking a little. “Fine.”
Before Gerard could pull off and ask what was so fine, a slick finger slid into his ass, and Gerard practically squawked, thankfully muffled by a mouthful of Frank. But he kept sucking, even as Frank started licking Gerard’s cock again with his finger working deeper into Gerard.
Frank slid a second finger in and started lazily stretching his hole, making Gerard squirm trying to find a better angle, shit, just trying to think. Stupid guitarists and their long, perfect fingers, and their stupid coordination. He swallowed a few times, remembering to breathe, maybe making a couple of high-pitched noises. That must have been good, because Frank gasped, pulling off of Gerard’s cock, stroking instead with his other hand.
“Like that?” Frank asked, smirk evident in his tone, breathless. Still a little shit, even on the brink of orgasm. “Slide so good for me. So hot and tight. Like your mouth. Fuck. So perfect. Shit. Gee. Oh. Your mouth.”
Taking his cue, Gerard swallowed Frank down to the hilt and back up and Frank came undone, bucking up and coming in Gerard’s mouth, his strokes on Gerard’s cock stuttering and then increasing speed. Gerard managed to swallow, more on reflex than any indication of brain function. He was pretty sure his brain was going to leak out of his ears instead. He gave one last lick to Frank’s softening cock and pulled off with a moan as Frank added a third finger.
“Frankie,” Gerard groaned.
Frank bent his fingers and changed angle and hit Gerard’s prostate and he thrust into Frank’s palm. He wanted Frank to do that again, or jack him faster, or both, because he was going completely insane.
“Yeah?” Frank’s voice was sex-rough. “C’mon, Gee,” he encouraged and teased against that sweet spot again.
“Nnngh,” Gerard moaned and came all over Frank’s palm and somehow managed to collapse to the side of Frank, with his head resting on Frank’s hip. Frank’s fingers scratched at Gerard’s scalp, and he lazily brought his other hand up to lick the come off.
“So good,” Frank assured, fingers feeling fantastic and making an even bigger mess of Gerard’s hair.
“Such a little fucker,” Gerard muttered, tilting his head into the touch. “Jesus Christ, you drive me crazy.”
“You love it,” Frank grinned, looking smug. It might be a little deserved.
“Maybe,” Gerard mumbled. “It’s not all bad, I guess.” His fingers splayed across Frank’s belly, tracing the sparrows with his fingers. It was actually kind of great. Everything that involved Frank usually was, though.
“Ungrateful shit,” Frank stuck his tongue out, mocking, like a five year old or something.
“Am not!” Gerard pouted. He really should be able to come up with a better retort, but his brain was still kind of mush. He kissed lazily down to Frank’s thigh.
“Get up here,” Frank made grabby hands. “You’re too far away.”
“You just want to get me up there and have your cuddly way with me,” Gerard grumbled good-naturedly.
“You’re fucking right,” Frank grinned and pulled at Gerard’s arm, limbs tangling as Gerard righted himself. They ended up with Frank spooning him.
“Cuddleslut,” Gerard declared, trying to get comfortable. He could still smell honeyed toffee. With a hint of citrus. It was making him irritable. He wiggled around a bit more.
“What?” Frank mumbled and snuggled in closer, his hand stroking Gerard’s hip and Gerard felt Frank’s half hard cock near his thigh.
“That’s why I’m the little spoon, isn’t it?” Gerard asked, going for a grumpy tone, but smiling, grinding his ass against Frank’s cock.
“Ah, you’re on to my evil plan,” Frank said and then giggled, fully hard and nudging insistently against Gerard’s ass.
“It will only be evil if you don’t do anything about it,” Gerard suggested, tilting his hips.
“Well, twist my arm,” Frank purred in his ear, sliding inside, hips pumping slowly. He worked his way in and out, trying his best to drive Gerard crazy. It was working, and his dick had taken notice again, filling out more the deeper Frank went. He rocked up into Gerard, staying slow and even, like he could do this forever.
Gerard felt like he was unravelling, delicious and inevitable. “I’ll twist something,” Gerard started, remembering that they’d been talking, but cut himself off with a moan when Frankie hit him just right. Finally. “That.” Moan. “Keep, keep doing that. Christ.”
“This?” Frank asked, staying on that good angle. He didn’t speed up, just held Gerard’s hip tightly, like a promise.
“Yes,” Gerard moaned, stroking himself. “That, fuck.”
For once, Frank did as he was told, making his cock hit that spot with every thrust and Gerard moaned for it, rocked against it, whimpered Frank’s name. His orgasm took him by surprise and he came with a shout, tight and wet in cupped fingers. Frank kept thrusting, less measured, less controlled, panting little things that Gerard loved to hear. “Gorgeous like this, always love fucking you, but when you’re like this, fucked-out, fucking gorgeous, so sweet on my cock ‘cause you’ve come for me again and again, take it so good for me, fuck, Gee...” Gerard fucked back into him, curled up and pliant and happily spent, and Frank came with Gerard’s name on his lips, awed and filthy.
They lay there boneless and panting. Frank slid out with a sigh and mumbled something into Gerard’s shoulder.
“Whuzit?” Gerard asked sleepily. “I can’t hear you over my depleted blood supply.”
Frank giggled, “Drama queen. I said one of us should clean up.”
“Tag,” Gerard swatted at Frank’s hip.
“Why me?” Frank argued, but he was still giggling.
“Some asshole made me come three times,” Gerard countered, sounding pretty happy about the whole thing, actually.
“I am awesome,” Frank agreed, yawning.
“Awesome enough to go get a washcloth,” Gerard said, making shooing motions toward the bathroom.
“You’ll probably want to end up under the blankets, too, won’t you?” Frank asked, long-sufferingly, and promptly giggled.
“Blankets wouldn’t go amiss,” Gerard said, feeling sleep settling in.
“Yes, your highness,” Frank stole a kiss and slid out of bed.
Gerard made a contented noise, basking. Frankie was taking care of him, complaining about scratchy blankets and royalty, and all was right with the world.
[2: Coffee Technology and Objectification - Gerard]
The following morning (for some values of morning that include awake after a period of rest and daylight being involved), they met up for coffee and set list planning (which, in band code, meant Super Smash Brothers) in Ray and Mikey's room. Gerard ambled in, grabbed a carafe of coffee, and sprawled across his brother's bed, confident that he no longer smelled like bees fucking. Just him and Frank fucking, thank you very much. Again, and again, and again. He curled up on his stomach next to Mikey and stole a pillow, trying not to look too much like a smug motherfucker. The rest of the guys were talking about something.
"You're right. He totally has that face." Ray appeared in Gerard's peripheral vision. Gerard worked on making the carafe dispense coffee. It stubbornly resisted his attempts.
"I told you," said Mikey dryly. "Right eyebrow down a little, tongue at the back of his teeth, left corner of his mouth turned up."
"How did I not notice?" Frank looked over.
Gerard was now the uncomfortable center of attention. "What?" They shouldn't make coffee technology difficult.
Frank snorted, trying not to laugh. "You have a face."
"Ye-ess.... and? Ha!" Mug. Coffee. Excellent.
Mikey sighed. "Frank was going to come in and tell us all about his prowess, but then he decided to be all mysterious and shit, so I told him there wasn't a point, even if you didn't tell me later I would know."
"Is there enough coffee in the world? Know what?"
Ray laughed. "Mikey can, apparently, tell how many times you came the previous night."
“What.” Gerard’s tone was flat.
Frank tousled Gerard's hair. "Aww, now that face, I know. That's the ‘I'm-being-objectified’ face."
Gerard poured a second cup and sat up to look at his traitorous brother. "Hmph."
"Oh come on, it's totally obvious," Mikey said. Gerard just raised an eyebrow and primly took another sip of coffee, doing his best to look like he was above all this bullshit and in no way cared about his brother's accuracy.
"Three."
Gerard made a choking-coughing sound and tried to go back to sipping primly. He failed. Frank, by the sound of it, was going to break a rib laughing this hard. "Fuck you. I am discreet, and, and, okay, not subtle, but at least kind of opaque! I am... only moderately translucent!" At this point, Frank and Ray were just making wheezing noises, and even Mikey was biting his lip, trying not to laugh outright.
"Gee..." Mikey broke off to chuckle, which he did not cover at all with the faint sound of clearing his throat, "...actually, it's when you're trying to be discreet that it's a giveaway." Gerard raised an eyebrow as his asshole bandmates recovered enough to listen to his asshole brother.
Assholes.
"It's kind of sweet, really. 'Cause when you've had one, you're just kind of looking around for the next one, and your eyebrows are always up, and when you've had two, you're in a good mood and you smirk when you think other people aren't looking, and when you've had three, you think it would be really rude to talk about how much you're getting when other people maybe aren't getting any, so you try really hard not to look like you got any. But when you've had four, you're relaxed enough that you don't give a shit."
"Or you're asleep," Ray laughed. “Four. Jesus wept. Are you sure he doesn’t have some kind of Dorian Gray thing going on?”
Mikey laughed. “Some little portrait of his junk in an attic somewhere, slowly shrivelling.”
Gerard finished his second cup and glared at Frank. "This is all your fault."
Frank leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his neck in a fake-casual way, chest puffed up.
"You bet your ass."
"If you hadn't made me use that smelly stuff, I wouldn't have had to make everything smell like sex instead."
"Hey, I won't trouble you with my good shit, then," Frank said, completely unconcerned.
"What stuff?" Ray was curious now.
"Smell his hair."
Gerard rolled his eyes as Mikey and Ray stepped over. He was being sniffed. Ray sat back down on his bed. "Dude, don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of want to eat your hair."
Mikey was still smelling his brother. And making little humming noises.
"Stopit." Gerard twitched his shoulder away from Mikey, whose eyes had gotten kind of... hungry. "I totally get Pikachu now, if we're done making fun of me and sniffing my head?"
"Yeah, whatever, I bet I can still beat you."
"Not if you can't have Yoshi. I'm setting you up to play Kirby, motherfucker."
“Then we’re playing that one level where you always fall off and die, asswipe.”
"Hey, gimme that..."
[3: Sweaty Bassists Need Showers Too - Frank]
Another blessed hotel night and Frank started to follow Gerard into the room. He was actually looking forward to some sleep, but Mikey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Ray lifted a eyebrow in question and Mikey nodded towards Gerard's room. Ray shrugged and followed Gerard in and closed the door.
"What, oh," Frank said, catching on and pleasantly surprised. He might get to snuggle. Mikey was laid-back enough to snuggle. Like a puppy pile. But with only two people. Two people could be a pile. Frank could totally go for that right now, with a sweaty bassist, all on their own. Maybe Frank was a little delirious with fatigue and still riding the stage high. Actually, he'd snuggle a little right now, he decided, and leaned heavily against Mikey. Mikey was warm and still until he opened the door and led them into the room. Then he was still warm, but more wiggly.
Frank burrowed his nose and face into Mikey's chest and inhaled. Mikey smelled kind of nice in a way, tangy sweat with some musk underneath. And oranges, maybe.
"Bees fucking," Frankie decided. That's what Mikey needed to smell like. His second wind was kicking in. He was pretty sure. He had a Mikeyway. He had his bag. His bag had his soap. And a shower was in order.
Frank pulled away to look at Mikey, and found a smirk in the corner of his mouth and something fond there. "What about bees fucking, Frankie?"
"It's something magical that can happen in the shower," Frank explained, giving a lewd wink, which he ruined by giggling.
"I really thought you'd be more interested in the bed," Mikey offered.
"Well yeah, but showers are awesome too, first, and then bed," Frank clarified.
"The bees fucking smell is kinda nice," Mikey agreed, smiling a little, bending down to catch Frank's lips with his mouth. Mikey's were chapped, of course. The guy was cool as fuck, but sometimes he sucked at taking care of himself. Sometimes a lot. Not in the last few years, but Frank remembered when there were things far more threatening than a little chapstick; immanent and frightening. He took a breath. He'd better do something, before he got all nostalgic or protective or some shit.
Frank tilted his head and nuzzled at Mikey's jaw. He loved Mikey's jaw. The strong line of it, the way it curved up to his ear, the way it felt under his lips when there was a little bit of stubble. That wasn't quite what he was after, though. No, he wanted Mikey to make that noise. Frank liked that noise a lot. Placing his lips in the dip where jaw meets neck, he gave a quick lick, then went in for the kill, teeth and vacuum and the feeling of blood warming the skin just under his tongue. Frank sucked a glorious hickey into existence, and Mikey made the groan-moan noise Frank was so fond of. It started all rumbly, and wound up somewhere in the vicinity of a porn soundtrack. It was perfect, and combined with Mikey's now-twitching hips, made it incredibly difficult to make quick work of Mikey's pants. He managed eventually, hands playing counterpoint to his mouth with a few little bites and suckles, and followed quickly with the rest of his clothes.
"You are like a little teacup octopus," Mikey muttered. Stealing another kiss, he worked on getting Frank naked, starting with his pants.
"Hey!" Frank tried for affronted, but couldn't help humming I’m a Little Teapot. "Such a dork. Teacup octopus my ass."
"That's what I'm saying," Mikey countered, trying to get Frank’s shirt off, and failing. Frank had things to do, important ones like groping, reaching to turn on the water, maneuvering weirdly-folded hotel towels. And then it was time for other important things, like letting his mouth drift down Mikey's chest and halting at the jut of his hip bone where Frank's lips settled and sucked another bright red circle and moan from Mikey.
"Shower, Frankie," Mikey urged, as the steam from the shower started to cloud the mirror.
"Right, yeah," Frank mumbled, his nose edging closer to Mikey's cock, which had apparently noticed that something interesting was going on. Frank was interested right back, thank you very much.
"Bees fucking," Mikey reminded both of them, maybe a little desperately, "Cocksucking somewhere less slippery."
It was a little saddening, really, this whole safety business. Frank gave amazing head, and he knew it, but he was also pretty sure Gerard would never forgive either of them if they died naked in the bathroom. Even Ray would frown on that. His big shoulders would tense and he would cross his arms, and furrow his brow, and Frown. Frank’s stomach flip-flopped as he tasted the other side of Mikey’s hip, and thoughts of Ray could wait, because Mikey was moaning. Frank smiled against his stomach and then stood, pulling off his shirt. Mikey’s hair was curling from the steam, and his lips were parted, and his eyes were bright, and Frank couldn't resist kissing him, pulling that lower lip into his mouth.
“Right.” Frank reminded himself why they were there, and hauled them both into the tub and under the spray. Mikey's head was directly under the showerhead and he took advantage of his longer hair to sling water into Frank's face.
"Hey asshole," Frank giggled, ducking and reaching for the bottle of body wash. "Are you five all of a sudden?"
"Yeah, you're one to talk," Mikey muttered, but he was smiling. “I’ll have you know I’m six, at the minimum. You’re the five-year-old.”
Frank giggled more and reached up to work the soap into Mikey's hair, deft fingers massaging his scalp. Mikey looked like he was close to purring. Frank was tactile and quickly thorough washing the rest of Mikey, with his hands lingering teasingly in all the right places and Mikey playfully batting them off to wash Frank. Slippery hands and mouths reaching and wrapping and sucking - maybe they were both cephalopods. Maybe Frank didn’t care.
Rinsed and still mostly wet they stumbled out of the shower and toward the nearest bed. Frank gently shoved Mikey toward it and he took the hint, flopping easily on the snow-white comforter. Everything was so clean. And quiet. Frank grabbed the bottle of lube from his bag.
"Turn over," Frank encouraged.
"So bossy," Mikey muttered good-naturedly, and rolled onto his belly.
Frank fiddled with the bottle, "Oh, you haven't seen bossy," he joked, trying for his best sultry tone but only succeeding in giggling more.
"Shutup," Mikey challenged, smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, and waited.
"Make me," Frank countered, never one to disappoint.
Mikey arched up onto his hands and knees, stretching languidly. Warm from the shower, clean and with a few silvery beads of water still on his skin, oh, he had to know how good he looked. His spine curved, he let his head tilt back, his knees spread, not quite waggling his hips, but definitely making his point.
"Oh," Frank spoke, more of an exhale of air than a word, abandoning the bottle of lube near them on the bed. It wasn't important. The bed wasn't important. Fuck. Nothing was as important as the delicious golden boy in front of him. Mikey-fuckin'-Way, ladies and gentlemen. All Frank's right now, and he couldn't keep his hands away from that ass if he tried, like he’d stop breathing if he couldn’t. Frank kissed the dip at the base of Mikey's spine, right above the curve of his ass. Gentle, almost reverent, and Mikey shivered. Then Frank's tongue darted out and licked, a long swipe, and Mikey gasped.
"Frankie," he breathed, sounding just this side of needy. Frank paused for just a moment, and licked again, and didn't stop. Mikey let his head fall onto his hands and started making a noise like he was dying, only it was incredibly fantastic, and it was what Frank had been hoping to hear, and he wanted more. He spread Mikey open with his thumbs, flicked his tongue until he heard a whimper. Frank pointed his tongue to dart inside, working into the taut ring of muscle. That was it. Mikey moaned like a desperate, needy porn star or hungry cat or something, it didn’t matter, it was the sound of Frank short-circuiting his brain and it was glorious. Mikey’s hands fisted the sheets and his legs trembled a little as Frank's tongue plunged a little deeper into his ass, then swirled shallowly.
"Fuck, Frankie, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Nnngh," Mikey groaned, causing Frank to hum in response. It buzzed on his lips, and he knew Mikey could feel it.
"Frankie, fuck me," Mikey begged. "Shit. C'mon. Frankie."
Frank gave one final lick, kissed a cheek and said, "How's that for shutting up?"
"Fuckingchrist," was all Mikey could manage.
Frank made a pleased noise, and reached for the lube, applying liberally, hissing appreciatively at the slide of his own fingers. Frank lined up and started nudging Mikey's tight hole, just dipping and rubbing, adding more lube and doing his level best to drive them both insane, until Mikey reached back and spread himself apart. It was an effort of will on Frank's part, the way he pressed in slow and stopped, gasping as his balls brushed against Mikey's ass. He did not come immediately, he did not pin Mikey and fuck him 'till he screamed, he didn't even twitch that much. Effort. Of. Will.
It helped that Mikey was so hot and tight he didn't know if he could do any of those things, but still.
"Fucking move," Mikey urged, trying to move away, but Frank's hands on his hips held him steady and Frank took his time sliding out and back in. Slowly, and it was good, it wasn’t quite enough, but it was everything, and then Frank shifted his angle. He sped up a little and hit Mikey right, and it was good, no, it was perfect, and Mikey lifted his head and arched his back and it was too much for both of them.
"Close, Mikes, close," Frankie panted and reached around to jack Mikey's cock.
"Frank, fuck," Mikey moaned and came all over Frank's hand. Frank might have felt bad about not making this last longer if he thought he could feel bad about anything ever again, but there was no room for any of that. No room for anything but Mikey, pale and twitching around him, pulsing tightly. Frank panted, grunted, and came, half sprawling on Mikey's back and half propped on one arm. He kissed the back of Mikey's neck, communicating... something.
"Yeah," Mikey murmured, looking completely boneless, slumping contentedly.
Frank nuzzled the back of Mikey's neck and withdrew gently with a satisfied groan. Frank wiped his hand off on the sheets and gave them both a swipe to remove any stray lube and come. He wrapped an arm around Mikey's waist and dragged them both over to the other bed.
"Mmph," Mikey protested intelligently.
"Just a sec, Mikes," Frank reassured, tugging back the covers and pushing Mikey under them and sliding in behind him. "Two beds, no wet spot."
"I take it back," Mikey mumbled, tucking his head next to Frank's. His hair was still mostly wet. He was gonna give Frank shit for that in the morning. It would be worth it.
"What?" Frank asked, flipping off the light and snuggling in, wrapping and twining around Mikey like a teacup octopus again.
"You're at least seven and a half," Mikey answered.
Frank giggled, "Night, Mikey."
Mikey hummed in response and fell asleep.
[4: Guitarists Are Crafty - Gerard]
Coffee. Gerard's hindbrain was asking for coffee. It was important. It would help him open his eyes. Open his eyes to whatever the fuck was going on in the lounge. Weirdness. Not the ritual playing of the Xbox. Especially if a hairdo was involved. Wait. What.
"Are you braiding Ray's hair?" Gerard asked, bleary eyes finally focusing on the apparent morning slumber-party that was happening on their bus.
"Yes," Frank chirped, grinning like an asshole while his hands deftly and complicatedly did things to Ray's hair that actually didn't look half bad. Fuckin' Frankie being a braider person. Who’d’ve figured. Gerard would have thought by now that he knew all of Frank's weird hidden talents.
"A French braid," Mikey clarified, like a pedantic asshole, his chin propped on Frank's shoulder watching Frank’s fingers at work.
Gerard nodded. Of course it was a French braid. Of course. Right. He needed more coffee before he was ready to experience Frank and Mikey's Advanced and Practical Macramé Techniques(: For Fun and Profit!). He filled his mug and promptly shuffled back to his bunk. It was safe there. Hairstyles didn't live there. Although it was kind of nice seeing the sides of Ray’s head, he mused fuzzily. It’d been a long time.
He lasted all of three minutes lounging in his bunk until his curiosity got the better of him. He wandered back up front. Anyway, he'd finished his first mug. He should have taken the pot. If they braided his hair he would kill them. Well, unless it looked cool. Unlikely. Killing. Assholes. Coffee.
"Want us to do yours next?" Mikes asked, doing that psychic thing he was apparently good at.
Or maybe Gerard just broadcasted more before his third cup of coffee.
Gerard made a noncommittal sound and went back to sipping his coffee. Something about Mikey this morning. He tried to put his finger on it, staring at his brother. His super comfy-looking, relaxed, snuggling brother.
Mikey lifted his eyebrows, which Gerard met with a pointed look, and Mikey rolled his eyes and went back to braid-watching.
"Assholes! You fucked!" Gerard realized, maybe feeling a little triumphant. And pointing at the two just a little. And thinking maybe they should have invited him. He certainly didn’t get laid last night. Because Ray was... Ray, and Gerard didn’t really know where to go with that. Okay, Gerard thought he knew where he wanted to go with that, but he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if Ray wanted to go there, either. It could be that he was being too subtle. Maybe he was just bad at this sort of thing, period. Maybe he should stop this train of thought right the fuck now. He shook his head, trying to clear it.
"He's eight, if you were wondering," Mikey said sagely to Frank and Frank giggled like a motherfucker knowing the context of that shit would.
"And what am I?" Ray asked, catching on. Whether or not Ray understood subtlety, he understood non-linear conversations pretty well, apparently. Or maybe he got a knowledge bonus for the braiding. Plus ten to INT score through hair-knot osmosis circumstance bonus or some shit. Or they could just be assholes.
"Twelve," Frank decided, finishing off the first braid and tying off the end with a band that Mikey handed him.
Oh. "What's the age of my inner child got to do with anything before noon anyway?" Gerard asked, maybe whining a little like the eight-year-old he apparently was. "And why does Toro get to be fucking twelve?"
Frank and Mikes gave him significant looks while Ray simply lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Then they all giggled.
"Fuck you both, very much," Gerard muttered, pouring himself one more cup of coffee and sipping it defiantly, or as close as he could manage.
"We would, but there's not a lot of room in the back," Mikey said, smirking.
"Yeah, a real bed is fun when we do that sort of thing," Frankie agreed, looking a little distant. Maybe even remembering that first time. Oh fuck. That first time. When his little brother surprised the shit out of him by going along with it. And being amazing in the sack like Gerard knew he would be. How could Mikey be anything but amazing in the sack? It was Mikey. And the sounds he made, and shit, now Gerard was half-hard thinking about it, and those two fuckers were grinning like they knew what he was thinking. Right. He was going back to his bunk right the fuck now.
"Assholes," Gerard muttered and retreated to not jerk off in his bunk. Nope. Too early for that shit.
Before he could climb back into bed, Mikey caught his elbow. Gerard turned just enough to eye his brother suspiciously. "What, Mikes?" he asked.
"C'mon," Mikey said and pulled Gerard into his bunk. They stretched out side-by-side with Mikey slinging an arm over him, and Gerard nuzzling at the side of Mikey's face with his nose.
"You smell like bees fucking," Gerard said and settled. Mikey hummed in agreement.
"Frankie.” Mikey shrugged. “Now go to sleep and wake up less cranky," he said, teasing.
"Fucking later?" Gerard asked and yawned.
"Fucking later," Mikey agreed. Gerard drifted off with a smile on his face.
[5: Grumpiness Was Never an Option - Gerard]
Gerard woke with Mikey’s hand snaking into his briefs and he smiled, humming a sleepy encouragement.
“Are you still cranky?” Mikey asked, low and tickly in Gerard’s ear. His fingers wrapped around Gerard’s halfway-asleep cock and began stroking, encouraging it to fill.
“I could be,” Gerard said defensively.
“Nope,” Mikey said good-naturedly, “Pretty sure you’d have trouble being cranky right now.” Gerard opened his eyes a little to express his doubt, then paused.
“You’re naked.”
“Yep.”
“Huh. Point taken,” Gerard mused reasonably, and lifted his ass so Mikey could slide off his underwear, which was promptly shoved somewhere down at the foot of the bunk as Mikey retrieved a bottle of lube from Gerard’s stash.
Mikey started to work himself open and Gerard groaned, “Mikey.” He reached down and slid his cock into his fist, lazily fucking up into his hand.
“On second thought, you do-- ah-- sound a little cranky,” Mikey teased, breath hitching as he rocked back against his own fingers.
“C’mon, Mikeyway,” Gerard urged, knowing just by the clench of his jaw that Mikey had worked up to three fingers.
“Impatient, at least, fuck,” Mikey moaned, removing his fingers. “On your back.”
“Bossy,” Gerard grumbled, but he was smiling as Mikey leaned over him, shooing Gerard’s hands away.
Mikey rolled his eyes and stole a quick kiss as he climbed on top of his brother, carefully nudging a knee over as he fumbled for the lube again. He slicked Gerard up, grinning at the moan he got in response, left hand braced on Gerard’s shoulder and his right hand lining himself up. He eased down onto Gerard’s cock, head tilting back, mouth opening soundlessly.
“Mikey,” Gerard moaned, more of an awed exhale of breath than anything, and it cut into a gasp when he felt the touch of Mikey’s ass next to his balls.
“Mmmm?” Mikey hummed, trying to figure out where to put his right hand, his hair brushing the top of the bunk, his hard dick bobbing a little with the movement. Gerard licked his lips.
“Breathe, Mikes,” Gerard reminded, taking his brother’s other hand and putting it on his shoulder. Gerard’s own hands found their way to Mikey’s hips, gripping, waiting to encourage Mikey to ride him. Mikey slid up gingerly, and sighed as he sank back down.
“Ohh.” Mikey swallowed. His fingers dug into Gerard’s collarbones a little. It was good, but nowhere near as good as the wet tightness enveloping him. Hot and perfect and so very Mikey.
“Yeah?” Gerard asked, tightening his own fingers, urging Mikey up again.
“Yeah,” Mikey agreed, gasping as he started to get a rhythm. Gerard’s hips thrust up, meeting Mikey thrust for thrust. “Fuck,” he panted.
“C’mon, Mikey,” Gerard groaned at the heat and the pace.
Mikey shifted the angle, leaning more on Gerard, and moaned something unintelligible around the note of middle c and Gerard almost came undone.
“Mikey,” Gerard urged, reaching to stroke Mikey’s leaking cock.
“Gee, fuck, Gee,” Mikey spluttered and came all over Gerard’s hand.
“Gotcha, Mikes, gotcha,” Gerard whispered desperately before losing the power of speech. Anyone would, inside tighthot perfect Mikey coming around his cock, and Jesus, there just weren’t words, and he lasted three more thrusts before coming with a shout.
Mikey kissed the bend of Gerard’s neck, resting heavily on his chest. Gerard stroked Mikey’s back. Mikey kissed him once more and then eased off Gerard with a grunt.
“Umpf,” Gerard mumbled. He felt very sleepy again, but, it had to be acknowledged, much less cranky. Mikey moved away and he reached for him.
“Hang on a sec,” Mikey reassured, grabbing Gerard’s discarded underwear and giving them a quick wipe-down.
“Hey, those were mostly clean,” Gerard protested, out of principle more than anything else.
“Bullshit,” Mikey countered cheerfully.
“Point,” Gerard grudgingly agreed as Mikey pulled a sheet up to drape over them and snuggled in. Gerard slung an arm over and kissed Mikey.
Mikey smiled. “Love you,” he said, kissing again.
“Love you too, Mikes,” Gerard smiled back and drifted off to sleep once more.
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