Fic: If You Want It
title: If You Want It
pairing: Mikey/Gerard + Frank (and kind of Frank/Gerard, too)
rating: NC-17
words: 2880
summary: “Gerard,” Frank says one night, as they’re all fixing their hair and make-up in the dressing room before the show. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
warning: incest, Dom/sub
disclaimer: This is fiction, and you should not believe it.
It’s by no design of Frank’s that he and Gerard haven’t had sex. He’s tried, he honestly has. He doesn’t really understand why Gerard will kiss him and tease him and then not follow through. On stage, sure, he gets that it’s mostly a performance, but Frank thinks it goes deeper than that. And he thinks Gerard feels the same way.
“Gerard,” he says one night, as they’re all fixing their hair and make-up in the dressing room before the show. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
Mikey raises his eyebrows, looking at Frank through the mirror; his head is tilted really far to the right because he’s straightening his hair, and his sideways expression makes him look kind of like an alien with a spiky head. Frank ignores him and focuses on Gerard again, who still hasn’t answered.
“Gee, just tell me.”
Gerard looks sort of helpless. He shrugs. “It’s not that… Frank, I can’t explain it, okay?”
“I thought you-”
“If you say ‘wanted my ass’, I will hit you,” Bob says from the corner. He’d been tapping his drumsticks against the back of Ray’s chair, and he holds one up menacingly now. “I don’t wanna know, dude.”
Frank flips him off.
“Guys,” Ray breaks in. “Can we just… not do this now? We’re on in like, two minutes.”
Mikey artfully ruffles his hair a bit and turns around. “We’ll talk about it after the show,” he says. Frank wasn’t aware he was part of the conversation. Mikey gives him a smug look.
A PA knocks and pokes her head in, telling them it’s time to go. Frank’s the first out of the room.
***
Gerard’s as teasing as ever onstage, bouncing between Frank and Mikey and Ray, touching all of them suggestively. He goes as far as running his fingers through Ray’s hair, and Frank falls to his knees in front of him. He wants that, dammit.
Gerard obligingly slides a hand over Frank’s sweaty cheek, scratching down to his throat and then curling around to the back of his neck to tug his hair. Frank closes his eyes and leans his shoulder against Gerard’s thigh.
But then Gerard’s gone again, his attention on Mikey; he ruffles Mikey’s hair and pulls on the collar of his jacket, and Mikey bends forward slightly to rest his forehead against Gerard’s for a few seconds.
Frank glances back at Bob, the only one out of Gerard’s reach. Bob rolls his eyes. Between songs, Frank hops up onto his riser to express his frustration.
Bob says, “If you fuck up my kit, I will kill you,” and pushes Frank off.
***
After the show, Frank upends a water bottle over his head. His skin feels sticky with sweat, and his chest is tight, making it hard to breathe properly. He grabs another water bottle and gulps down half of it. Next to him, Ray’s wiping his face with a damp towel, his curls stringy and limp with sweat and water.
“I’m going back to the bus,” Bob announces. “You guys coming?” He’s already shrugging out of his jacket and walking away; Ray follows him with a breathless, “Yeah, dude, let’s go.”
“Where’s Gee and Mikey?” Frank calls after them. In his single-minded quest for water, he hadn’t noticed them disappearing after the show. Bob and Ray either can’t hear him or don’t bother replying, and a minute later, they’re gone, too. Frank decides to head for the dressing room.
He sees Mikey ahead of him in the hall on the way there. He’s carrying his jacket over one arm and has an unopened water bottle in his other hand. Frank jogs to catch up to him.
“Where’s Gerard?”
Mikey gives him a smug look, like the one he’d had earlier, and pushes open the door to the dressing room.
Gerard is in there, peeling off his sweat-stained jacket. He turns around when they walk in, and after the door closes behind them, he pulls his t-shirt over his head. Mikey drops his jacket and bottle onto one of the chairs and moves forward smoothly, pressing Gerard back against the opposite wall.
His hands fly immediately to Gerard’s hair, and before Frank can even process what’s happening, they’re kissing, Mikey’s shoulders hunched up and his fingers tight against Gerard’s scalp, and Gerard with his black t-shirt still hanging around one arm, his hands clutching frantically at Mikey’s back. Frank’s mouth falls open and he tries to say, “What the fuck?” but it comes out as more of a strangled sort of groan.
Mikey pulls back a few inches, and Frank can see Gerard leaning his head back against the wall, his mouth open, lips red and swollen. “This is why,” Mikey murmurs, grinding his hips against Gerard’s and pinning him to the wall.
“What?” Frank asks stupidly, his hands hanging limp at his sides. He can’t seem to move, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the brothers. Brothers, he thinks with alarm, and then, But it’s Gerard and Mikey. That it’s them makes a twisted sort of sense in Frank’s brain, and he doesn’t bother with analyzing why.
“Why I can’t fuck you,” Gerard replies, panting. Mikey thrusts against him, and his hand twists in the fabric of Mikey’s shirt up in between his shoulderblades.
“Oh,” Frank says weakly. “Okay.”
“You’re welcome to watch, though,” Mikey adds. He casts a quick glance over his shoulder at Frank, and then looks back at Gerard, growling, “Watch me fuck him.”
Frank finds himself nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
They kiss again, and Mikey’s clearly calling the shots, which is ever so slightly weird, to Frank. His fingers twitch by his thighs; he wants to tangle them in Gerard’s hair like Mikey does, he wants to kiss Gerard like that. Hell, he wants Mikey to kiss him like that.
Mikey backs off after another few seconds, and Frank stares at the parts of Gerard’s bare, pale skin that he can see around Mikey’s body. Gerard’s chest is heaving, and his eyes are closed as he tilts his face toward the ceiling. “Over the table,” Mikey whispers harshly, his fingers tightening, white-knuckled, in Gerard’s hair for a brief instant before he lets go.
Gerard slithers out from between Mikey and the wall; his upper back and shoulders are red from where the uneven plaster was pressed against him. Frank’s breath catches in his throat. He wants to taste the redness on Gerard’s skin. He wants to feel Gerard panting beneath his hands. He wants… He wants. He wants it all. Mikey turns around and smirks at him.
“Okay, Frankie?”
Frank wrenches his eyes away from where Gerard is flinging the t-shirt to the growing pile of clothing on the chair and starting to wriggle out of his tight jeans. Mikey’s standing confidently in front of him, his hands loose, his lips slick and glistening and curved into a grin.
“What?” Frank nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
“You wanna sit down, maybe?”
“Um… yes?”
Mikey gestures to one of the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says. Frank nods again, but can’t seem to force his feet to move. “Go on,” Mikey adds in a teasing voice.
“Sit down, Frank,” Gerard says breathlessly. It’s not often he sounds like that, not even when he’s faking it onstage. Frank’s eyes are drawn back to him: he’s standing in front of the mirror, his ass against the table. Completely naked. Frank’s mouth waters. Gerard leans back against the table on both elbows until his head and shoulders hit the mirror. On display. On display for Frank.
“Pretty,” Mikey says quietly. Frank really agrees.
“Frankie,” Gerard continues. He leans back against the mirror, staring at them both through half-lidded, eyeliner-streaked eyes. “I want you to watch.”
Now Frank wishes for more moisture in his mouth. Without taking his gaze off Gerard, he moves sideways and falls into the chair. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Okay.”
Mikey descends upon him, yanking his shirt over his head in a smooth, practiced motion and dropping down to straddle Frank’s lap. Frank is transfixed by the wiry muscles in Mikey’s torso, obvious and shifting beneath the pale skin as he moves; he knew Mikey had been working out, but he’d not really noticed the effects. He and Gerard look so different, but there’s still something about them, something Frank can’t pinpoint, that looks the same.
Mikey grabs Frank’s face, fingertips in his hair and palms pressing into his cheeks, and urges him to arch up for a kiss. Mikey’s lips are demanding, and he coaxes Frank’s mouth open with his hands and his tongue. Frank thinks he can taste Gerard beneath the less-familiar taste of Mikey. He moans.
“Get undressed,” Mikey hisses when they break apart. His hands slide up and tug Frank’s hair sharply. “Give him something to watch in return.”
Frank nods and moves his hands automatically to the hem of his shirt. Gerard is staring at him with the same dazed, lustful expression, and Frank can’t look away. Their eyes meet, and it takes Gerard a minute to comply when Mikey tells him to turn around, bend over the table. Gerard obediently turns and catches Frank’s gaze again through the mirror.
After pulling off his shirt and kicking off his shoes and jeans, Frank sprawls in the chair, legs spread wide and dick standing proudly at attention. He watches Gerard’s face in the mirror, sees him smirking. Gerard lifts a hand and presses it against the mirror by his head. In reply, Frank reaches down and wraps his fist around his cock.
Gerard moans, but Frank’s not sure if it’s because of him or because of Mikey stepping into place behind him and curling a hand around Gerard’s hip. Mikey still has his jeans and boots on, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to take them off before continuing with his plan. Frank watches with a slack jaw as Gerard shifts back and rubs his ass against Mikey.
Mikey bends over him and presses a kiss to the back of Gerard’s neck, sweeping the longer locks of hair aside. Gerard’s eyelashes flutter, and Frank can tell that he’s straining to keep his eyes open. His hand on the mirror tenses, his fingertips going pink and then white with pressure.
“Talk to him,” Mikey tells Gerard. He slides his palm down Gerard’s spine to where they’re pressed against each other and starts working on undoing his jeans. Frank can’t really see what Mikey’s doing, but there’s minimal fumbling, so he assumes Mikey’s pretty practiced at this.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Gerard begins breathlessly, though he’s surprisingly articulate. It takes Frank a long moment before he realizes that Gerard’s referring to their earlier conversation. “I want to, Frank. I want to fuck you.”
“But he can’t,” Mikey interjects. Both his hands are between their bodies, now, and though Frank can’t see what they’re doing, he can guess.
Gerard confirms his suspicions by moaning, “God, Mikey, yeah, more, please,” and closing his eyes. Frank watches the shift of his expression in the mirror and can practically see the instant when Mikey adds a second finger, and then a third.
Frank moves his hand slowly on his cock, trying desperately to restrain himself. This is quite possibly the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed, he doesn’t want to spoil it by coming too soon.
After a moment, Gerard’s eyes open again. He’s leaning more forward now, his forehead pressed against the mirror, and looking up through his eyelashes at Frank’s reflection. A sharp groan catches in Frank’s throat; he feels pinned beneath Gerard’s gaze. It’s different than it had been before, more satisfied now, less desperate. He’s getting what he wants, Frank realizes. He has Mikey’s fingers in his ass, Frank staring at him, Mikey’s teeth grazing his shoulder.
Gerard smirks at him. “So fucking good at this,” he hisses. “Best, Mikey, the best.”
Frank believes him. He swallows and flicks his eyes over to Mikey, who’s taking a condom out of his back pocket. Frank wishes he could see Mikey put it on; he hasn’t seen Mikey’s dick yet, not like this, and he really wants to. His hand speeds up on his own cock, and his hips jerk up off the chair.
“You should fuck him,” Gerard says to Mikey, then adds. “You should beg him to fuck you, Frankie.”
“Yeah,” Frank sighs. “Fuck, yeah.”
Mikey meets his eyes in the mirror. “Eager, Frankie?” he asks, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Frank thrusting up into his own hand.
Frank flushes, but nods. “Yes, please, can you…” He’s not even sure what he wants, now. Gerard’s idea sounds like a good one, an excellent one, but Frank doubts Mikey will abandon his original plans of fucking Gerard over the make-up table. He settles for just saying, “Mikey, please.”
“Yes,” Gerard agrees. His eyes slip closed again. “Please, Mikey, c’mon.”
“What do you want, Gerard?”
“Fuck me, fuck me, Mikey, please,” Gerard moans. He turns his head and rests his cheek against the sweat-slick mirror. “Please, Mikey, don’t make me wait, please.”
“I want to see,” Frank whispers. His eyes are wide; he can’t even blink. Mikey’s looking down at the back of Gerard’s head, one hand braced on Gerard’s hip and the other on the table beneath him, and he’s not doing anything. “I wanna see you fuck him,” he continues, “Mikey, please.”
Mikey ducks his head and swipes his tongue over the top of Gerard’s spine, licking up the droplets of sweat there. He moves his right hand from the tabletop to his cock, positioning himself, and then pushes forward and drags Gerard back onto him in the same motion.
Gerard keens and rubs his face against the mirror. The hand beside his head slips, and he spreads his fingers wide and slaps at the glass again, scrabbling for purchase. Frank’s chin drops to his chest; he can’t look anymore, the sounds they’re making are enough alone to push him over the edge. With one hand, he tightens his grip around his cock. He takes several deep breaths before looking back up at the brothers through a curtain of stringy hair.
Mikey has one hand beneath Gerard, presumably jerking him off, but Frank can’t see for sure, and the other tangled in Gerard’s hair. His head is tilted back, his jaw is clenched, and Frank knows he’s saying something, but he’s too quiet and Frank can’t hear. Gerard’s desperate moans are echoing in Frank’s ears, though, filling the space where Mikey’s voice should’ve been.
Gerard’s eyes are locked onto him, Frank realizes, and once he’s caught he can’t look away. He and Gerard stare at each other, and it’s both nothing like and exactly the same as it is when they’re performing. Gerard’s mouth is open, his bottom lip wet glistening. Frank really wants to kiss him.
“You’d better come before Frank,” Mikey growls, bending down again to nip at Gerard’s earlobe.
Great, Frank thinks shrilly, more pressure. His dick is throbbing in his hand; he feels ready to explode.
“Mikey, Mikey, fuck, yeah. Oh, god, Mikey,” Gerard wails. “Harder, Mikey, more, please.”
“Such a whore,” Mikey groans, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
“Ohgodyes,” Gerard agrees. “Yes, yeah, Mikey, fuck.”
Frank nearly comes right then. “Fuck, Gerard,” he cries, clenching his teeth. “Gee, please, come now, please, I wanna see it.”
“He wants to come,” Mikey translates, grinning against Gerard’s ear. “Come for Frankie, Gee, he wants you to. He wants to come.”
Gerard blinks hard, finally releasing Frank from his stare. Frank leans all the way back in the chair, letting his head hang over the back. He looks toward the ceiling and closes his eyes. “Gee, please, please come, shit, Gee, please…”
He hears Mikey chuckle and straightens up to see. Gerard’s staring at him again, and both of his sweaty hands are pressed against the mirror. His back is arched beneath Mikey’s chest, and he’s rocking his hips forward into Mikey’s hand, and back onto Mikey’s dick.
“Fuck,” Frank breathes.
Gerard closes his eyes and comes over Mikey’s hand and the table with a cry. Mikey follows a few hard thrusts later, and Frank’s too busy staring with wide-eyed, slack-jawed desire that he doesn’t even feel himself reaching down to his balls with his free hand. His orgasm almost catches him by surprise, and when he comes to, he looks down to see Gerard on his knees between Frank’s legs, licking his Frank’s come off his chest. Mikey walks over and stands beside them, his hand in Gerard’s hair.
“He’s mine, Frank,” he says, almost apologetically.
Frank nods. He can understand that.
“But maybe next time.”
Gerard kisses the bird on Frank’s hip, smiling. His constant stare is starting to freak Frank out. He reaches hesitantly for Gerard, waiting for Mikey’s nod before he touches. He runs his thumb over Gerard’s cheek and down to his mouth, and Gerard licks and playfully nips at him, then sits back on his heels.
“Next time?” Frank asks slowly.
“I want to see you blow him,” Mikey replies. “You want that?”
Frank looks from Mikey’s knowing smirk to Gerard’s grin. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “I want that.”
fin.
pairing: Mikey/Gerard + Frank (and kind of Frank/Gerard, too)
rating: NC-17
words: 2880
summary: “Gerard,” Frank says one night, as they’re all fixing their hair and make-up in the dressing room before the show. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
warning: incest, Dom/sub
disclaimer: This is fiction, and you should not believe it.
It’s by no design of Frank’s that he and Gerard haven’t had sex. He’s tried, he honestly has. He doesn’t really understand why Gerard will kiss him and tease him and then not follow through. On stage, sure, he gets that it’s mostly a performance, but Frank thinks it goes deeper than that. And he thinks Gerard feels the same way.
“Gerard,” he says one night, as they’re all fixing their hair and make-up in the dressing room before the show. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
Mikey raises his eyebrows, looking at Frank through the mirror; his head is tilted really far to the right because he’s straightening his hair, and his sideways expression makes him look kind of like an alien with a spiky head. Frank ignores him and focuses on Gerard again, who still hasn’t answered.
“Gee, just tell me.”
Gerard looks sort of helpless. He shrugs. “It’s not that… Frank, I can’t explain it, okay?”
“I thought you-”
“If you say ‘wanted my ass’, I will hit you,” Bob says from the corner. He’d been tapping his drumsticks against the back of Ray’s chair, and he holds one up menacingly now. “I don’t wanna know, dude.”
Frank flips him off.
“Guys,” Ray breaks in. “Can we just… not do this now? We’re on in like, two minutes.”
Mikey artfully ruffles his hair a bit and turns around. “We’ll talk about it after the show,” he says. Frank wasn’t aware he was part of the conversation. Mikey gives him a smug look.
A PA knocks and pokes her head in, telling them it’s time to go. Frank’s the first out of the room.
***
Gerard’s as teasing as ever onstage, bouncing between Frank and Mikey and Ray, touching all of them suggestively. He goes as far as running his fingers through Ray’s hair, and Frank falls to his knees in front of him. He wants that, dammit.
Gerard obligingly slides a hand over Frank’s sweaty cheek, scratching down to his throat and then curling around to the back of his neck to tug his hair. Frank closes his eyes and leans his shoulder against Gerard’s thigh.
But then Gerard’s gone again, his attention on Mikey; he ruffles Mikey’s hair and pulls on the collar of his jacket, and Mikey bends forward slightly to rest his forehead against Gerard’s for a few seconds.
Frank glances back at Bob, the only one out of Gerard’s reach. Bob rolls his eyes. Between songs, Frank hops up onto his riser to express his frustration.
Bob says, “If you fuck up my kit, I will kill you,” and pushes Frank off.
***
After the show, Frank upends a water bottle over his head. His skin feels sticky with sweat, and his chest is tight, making it hard to breathe properly. He grabs another water bottle and gulps down half of it. Next to him, Ray’s wiping his face with a damp towel, his curls stringy and limp with sweat and water.
“I’m going back to the bus,” Bob announces. “You guys coming?” He’s already shrugging out of his jacket and walking away; Ray follows him with a breathless, “Yeah, dude, let’s go.”
“Where’s Gee and Mikey?” Frank calls after them. In his single-minded quest for water, he hadn’t noticed them disappearing after the show. Bob and Ray either can’t hear him or don’t bother replying, and a minute later, they’re gone, too. Frank decides to head for the dressing room.
He sees Mikey ahead of him in the hall on the way there. He’s carrying his jacket over one arm and has an unopened water bottle in his other hand. Frank jogs to catch up to him.
“Where’s Gerard?”
Mikey gives him a smug look, like the one he’d had earlier, and pushes open the door to the dressing room.
Gerard is in there, peeling off his sweat-stained jacket. He turns around when they walk in, and after the door closes behind them, he pulls his t-shirt over his head. Mikey drops his jacket and bottle onto one of the chairs and moves forward smoothly, pressing Gerard back against the opposite wall.
His hands fly immediately to Gerard’s hair, and before Frank can even process what’s happening, they’re kissing, Mikey’s shoulders hunched up and his fingers tight against Gerard’s scalp, and Gerard with his black t-shirt still hanging around one arm, his hands clutching frantically at Mikey’s back. Frank’s mouth falls open and he tries to say, “What the fuck?” but it comes out as more of a strangled sort of groan.
Mikey pulls back a few inches, and Frank can see Gerard leaning his head back against the wall, his mouth open, lips red and swollen. “This is why,” Mikey murmurs, grinding his hips against Gerard’s and pinning him to the wall.
“What?” Frank asks stupidly, his hands hanging limp at his sides. He can’t seem to move, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the brothers. Brothers, he thinks with alarm, and then, But it’s Gerard and Mikey. That it’s them makes a twisted sort of sense in Frank’s brain, and he doesn’t bother with analyzing why.
“Why I can’t fuck you,” Gerard replies, panting. Mikey thrusts against him, and his hand twists in the fabric of Mikey’s shirt up in between his shoulderblades.
“Oh,” Frank says weakly. “Okay.”
“You’re welcome to watch, though,” Mikey adds. He casts a quick glance over his shoulder at Frank, and then looks back at Gerard, growling, “Watch me fuck him.”
Frank finds himself nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
They kiss again, and Mikey’s clearly calling the shots, which is ever so slightly weird, to Frank. His fingers twitch by his thighs; he wants to tangle them in Gerard’s hair like Mikey does, he wants to kiss Gerard like that. Hell, he wants Mikey to kiss him like that.
Mikey backs off after another few seconds, and Frank stares at the parts of Gerard’s bare, pale skin that he can see around Mikey’s body. Gerard’s chest is heaving, and his eyes are closed as he tilts his face toward the ceiling. “Over the table,” Mikey whispers harshly, his fingers tightening, white-knuckled, in Gerard’s hair for a brief instant before he lets go.
Gerard slithers out from between Mikey and the wall; his upper back and shoulders are red from where the uneven plaster was pressed against him. Frank’s breath catches in his throat. He wants to taste the redness on Gerard’s skin. He wants to feel Gerard panting beneath his hands. He wants… He wants. He wants it all. Mikey turns around and smirks at him.
“Okay, Frankie?”
Frank wrenches his eyes away from where Gerard is flinging the t-shirt to the growing pile of clothing on the chair and starting to wriggle out of his tight jeans. Mikey’s standing confidently in front of him, his hands loose, his lips slick and glistening and curved into a grin.
“What?” Frank nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
“You wanna sit down, maybe?”
“Um… yes?”
Mikey gestures to one of the chairs. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says. Frank nods again, but can’t seem to force his feet to move. “Go on,” Mikey adds in a teasing voice.
“Sit down, Frank,” Gerard says breathlessly. It’s not often he sounds like that, not even when he’s faking it onstage. Frank’s eyes are drawn back to him: he’s standing in front of the mirror, his ass against the table. Completely naked. Frank’s mouth waters. Gerard leans back against the table on both elbows until his head and shoulders hit the mirror. On display. On display for Frank.
“Pretty,” Mikey says quietly. Frank really agrees.
“Frankie,” Gerard continues. He leans back against the mirror, staring at them both through half-lidded, eyeliner-streaked eyes. “I want you to watch.”
Now Frank wishes for more moisture in his mouth. Without taking his gaze off Gerard, he moves sideways and falls into the chair. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Okay.”
Mikey descends upon him, yanking his shirt over his head in a smooth, practiced motion and dropping down to straddle Frank’s lap. Frank is transfixed by the wiry muscles in Mikey’s torso, obvious and shifting beneath the pale skin as he moves; he knew Mikey had been working out, but he’d not really noticed the effects. He and Gerard look so different, but there’s still something about them, something Frank can’t pinpoint, that looks the same.
Mikey grabs Frank’s face, fingertips in his hair and palms pressing into his cheeks, and urges him to arch up for a kiss. Mikey’s lips are demanding, and he coaxes Frank’s mouth open with his hands and his tongue. Frank thinks he can taste Gerard beneath the less-familiar taste of Mikey. He moans.
“Get undressed,” Mikey hisses when they break apart. His hands slide up and tug Frank’s hair sharply. “Give him something to watch in return.”
Frank nods and moves his hands automatically to the hem of his shirt. Gerard is staring at him with the same dazed, lustful expression, and Frank can’t look away. Their eyes meet, and it takes Gerard a minute to comply when Mikey tells him to turn around, bend over the table. Gerard obediently turns and catches Frank’s gaze again through the mirror.
After pulling off his shirt and kicking off his shoes and jeans, Frank sprawls in the chair, legs spread wide and dick standing proudly at attention. He watches Gerard’s face in the mirror, sees him smirking. Gerard lifts a hand and presses it against the mirror by his head. In reply, Frank reaches down and wraps his fist around his cock.
Gerard moans, but Frank’s not sure if it’s because of him or because of Mikey stepping into place behind him and curling a hand around Gerard’s hip. Mikey still has his jeans and boots on, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to take them off before continuing with his plan. Frank watches with a slack jaw as Gerard shifts back and rubs his ass against Mikey.
Mikey bends over him and presses a kiss to the back of Gerard’s neck, sweeping the longer locks of hair aside. Gerard’s eyelashes flutter, and Frank can tell that he’s straining to keep his eyes open. His hand on the mirror tenses, his fingertips going pink and then white with pressure.
“Talk to him,” Mikey tells Gerard. He slides his palm down Gerard’s spine to where they’re pressed against each other and starts working on undoing his jeans. Frank can’t really see what Mikey’s doing, but there’s minimal fumbling, so he assumes Mikey’s pretty practiced at this.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Gerard begins breathlessly, though he’s surprisingly articulate. It takes Frank a long moment before he realizes that Gerard’s referring to their earlier conversation. “I want to, Frank. I want to fuck you.”
“But he can’t,” Mikey interjects. Both his hands are between their bodies, now, and though Frank can’t see what they’re doing, he can guess.
Gerard confirms his suspicions by moaning, “God, Mikey, yeah, more, please,” and closing his eyes. Frank watches the shift of his expression in the mirror and can practically see the instant when Mikey adds a second finger, and then a third.
Frank moves his hand slowly on his cock, trying desperately to restrain himself. This is quite possibly the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed, he doesn’t want to spoil it by coming too soon.
After a moment, Gerard’s eyes open again. He’s leaning more forward now, his forehead pressed against the mirror, and looking up through his eyelashes at Frank’s reflection. A sharp groan catches in Frank’s throat; he feels pinned beneath Gerard’s gaze. It’s different than it had been before, more satisfied now, less desperate. He’s getting what he wants, Frank realizes. He has Mikey’s fingers in his ass, Frank staring at him, Mikey’s teeth grazing his shoulder.
Gerard smirks at him. “So fucking good at this,” he hisses. “Best, Mikey, the best.”
Frank believes him. He swallows and flicks his eyes over to Mikey, who’s taking a condom out of his back pocket. Frank wishes he could see Mikey put it on; he hasn’t seen Mikey’s dick yet, not like this, and he really wants to. His hand speeds up on his own cock, and his hips jerk up off the chair.
“You should fuck him,” Gerard says to Mikey, then adds. “You should beg him to fuck you, Frankie.”
“Yeah,” Frank sighs. “Fuck, yeah.”
Mikey meets his eyes in the mirror. “Eager, Frankie?” he asks, raising his eyebrows pointedly at Frank thrusting up into his own hand.
Frank flushes, but nods. “Yes, please, can you…” He’s not even sure what he wants, now. Gerard’s idea sounds like a good one, an excellent one, but Frank doubts Mikey will abandon his original plans of fucking Gerard over the make-up table. He settles for just saying, “Mikey, please.”
“Yes,” Gerard agrees. His eyes slip closed again. “Please, Mikey, c’mon.”
“What do you want, Gerard?”
“Fuck me, fuck me, Mikey, please,” Gerard moans. He turns his head and rests his cheek against the sweat-slick mirror. “Please, Mikey, don’t make me wait, please.”
“I want to see,” Frank whispers. His eyes are wide; he can’t even blink. Mikey’s looking down at the back of Gerard’s head, one hand braced on Gerard’s hip and the other on the table beneath him, and he’s not doing anything. “I wanna see you fuck him,” he continues, “Mikey, please.”
Mikey ducks his head and swipes his tongue over the top of Gerard’s spine, licking up the droplets of sweat there. He moves his right hand from the tabletop to his cock, positioning himself, and then pushes forward and drags Gerard back onto him in the same motion.
Gerard keens and rubs his face against the mirror. The hand beside his head slips, and he spreads his fingers wide and slaps at the glass again, scrabbling for purchase. Frank’s chin drops to his chest; he can’t look anymore, the sounds they’re making are enough alone to push him over the edge. With one hand, he tightens his grip around his cock. He takes several deep breaths before looking back up at the brothers through a curtain of stringy hair.
Mikey has one hand beneath Gerard, presumably jerking him off, but Frank can’t see for sure, and the other tangled in Gerard’s hair. His head is tilted back, his jaw is clenched, and Frank knows he’s saying something, but he’s too quiet and Frank can’t hear. Gerard’s desperate moans are echoing in Frank’s ears, though, filling the space where Mikey’s voice should’ve been.
Gerard’s eyes are locked onto him, Frank realizes, and once he’s caught he can’t look away. He and Gerard stare at each other, and it’s both nothing like and exactly the same as it is when they’re performing. Gerard’s mouth is open, his bottom lip wet glistening. Frank really wants to kiss him.
“You’d better come before Frank,” Mikey growls, bending down again to nip at Gerard’s earlobe.
Great, Frank thinks shrilly, more pressure. His dick is throbbing in his hand; he feels ready to explode.
“Mikey, Mikey, fuck, yeah. Oh, god, Mikey,” Gerard wails. “Harder, Mikey, more, please.”
“Such a whore,” Mikey groans, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
“Ohgodyes,” Gerard agrees. “Yes, yeah, Mikey, fuck.”
Frank nearly comes right then. “Fuck, Gerard,” he cries, clenching his teeth. “Gee, please, come now, please, I wanna see it.”
“He wants to come,” Mikey translates, grinning against Gerard’s ear. “Come for Frankie, Gee, he wants you to. He wants to come.”
Gerard blinks hard, finally releasing Frank from his stare. Frank leans all the way back in the chair, letting his head hang over the back. He looks toward the ceiling and closes his eyes. “Gee, please, please come, shit, Gee, please…”
He hears Mikey chuckle and straightens up to see. Gerard’s staring at him again, and both of his sweaty hands are pressed against the mirror. His back is arched beneath Mikey’s chest, and he’s rocking his hips forward into Mikey’s hand, and back onto Mikey’s dick.
“Fuck,” Frank breathes.
Gerard closes his eyes and comes over Mikey’s hand and the table with a cry. Mikey follows a few hard thrusts later, and Frank’s too busy staring with wide-eyed, slack-jawed desire that he doesn’t even feel himself reaching down to his balls with his free hand. His orgasm almost catches him by surprise, and when he comes to, he looks down to see Gerard on his knees between Frank’s legs, licking his Frank’s come off his chest. Mikey walks over and stands beside them, his hand in Gerard’s hair.
“He’s mine, Frank,” he says, almost apologetically.
Frank nods. He can understand that.
“But maybe next time.”
Gerard kisses the bird on Frank’s hip, smiling. His constant stare is starting to freak Frank out. He reaches hesitantly for Gerard, waiting for Mikey’s nod before he touches. He runs his thumb over Gerard’s cheek and down to his mouth, and Gerard licks and playfully nips at him, then sits back on his heels.
“Next time?” Frank asks slowly.
“I want to see you blow him,” Mikey replies. “You want that?”
Frank looks from Mikey’s knowing smirk to Gerard’s grin. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “I want that.”
fin.