Untitled, PWP
Untitled, PWP~
Collaboration with yousmellslutty.
This was written like, I wanna say last November. It was supposed to be this really long epic thing, but I lost the inspiration and thus it never got completely finished. I just felt like this was really too good to just completely never post so I just decided to post it as a PWP.
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"Don't fucking tempt me Frank," Gerard grits through angry teeth. Frank pulls his socks off and shoots an angry look at his friend. Gerard's in a pissy mood and Frank's sick of sitting on his hands all day. Nothing against the rest of his band, but he just wants to bounce around with Gerard like normal.
"Come on Gerard, stop being such a pissy ass and do some crazy shit with me tonight like normal," he retorts, knowing that if he pushes Gerard enough, he'll do something. He'll either do something or he'll just brew in the corner and not talk to Frank for two days. The younger boy is used to this, but he knows when he's gone to far.
"Fucking shut the hell up!" Gerard screams at the top of his lungs. Frank's not even sure why he's so incredibly pissed off, but he's not giving up without a fight. He doesn't abide by rules, not even Gerard's.
He gets up and walks over and walks over to the other man, faces inches apart. "Why don't you fucking make me?" He sees Gerard's vein pop in his forehead and feels a fist collide with his cheek. On almost instinct, he throws one back, landing Gerard square in the face.
He punches Gerard again before Gerard even has time to react, hitting his nose and almost instantly setting a wave of blood running down his face. This is exactly the type of thing that Frank's talking about with Gerard, this is his type of fun.
Frank's smile increases as he watches the older man walk towards him with a glare that from anybody other than Gerard could actually make him fearful. He's bouncing on the tips of his toes now, the adrenaline starting to really kick in. Gerard can throw a punch just as well as he can take one, which only encourages Frank.
He doesn't even know why Gerard is angry at all. It could be an encounter with a critic or maybe he simply got woken up in the middle of a nap. Frank doesn't know and Frank doesn't care.
Gerard punches Frank in the stomach swiftly, causing the younger boy to take just a moment to recover before he's hitting Gerard back, throwing in a kick or two just to mix it up. Gerard's strong for being such a tiny thing, but Frank's even deadlier with the combination of strength, size and speed.
Gerard slams Frank against the wall, his back hitting with a loud thud. Gerard grasps Frank's shirt and lifts him up by the collar. "Fuck you Frank! Fucking fuck you! Do you have any idea what shit I've gone through today?" Gerard screams at Frank, his eyes black with rage as he glares straight into Frank's eyes.
Frank smiles back at Gerard, innocently as he bats his eyelashes like a girl, watching as Gerard fumes from the act, "Did Mikey forget you? Did he go with Pete and not tell you? Are you losing Mikey and knowing there's nothing you can do about it? Is somebody a little jealous? of Pete?"
Frank is pulled back from the wall, only to be pushed back harder this time, his head slamming painfully against the wall before his air supply is cut off. His hands instinctively fly to Gerard's wrists to pull them away, only falling limp against his sides once he realizes what's going on. He doesn't fight, just stares Gerard straight in the eye. His stare is steady, fixed on Gerard as his expression softens and he lets go of Frank, dropping him to the ground.
"Shit! Frankie - Fuck - I'm sorry! Fuck! I wasn't - I didn't even realize what I was doing!" Gerard curses as he pulls his hands back, staring at them as though they were poisoned. Frank can tell he's quickly becoming afraid of the power that's behind his very own hands. "Frank, are you - You're okay, right? I didn't try - I didn't mean it! I was so - you were - Fuck!"
Frank looks up at Gerard, his eyes darkening quickly. He asks in a low, husky voice, "Do it again." He watches Gerard's expression change, repeating his request, "Gerard. Choke me again." His tone is serious and hard, commanding Gerard in such a way.
Gerard pulls back, away from Frank, "What? What the - What are you fucking talking about? Frank?" Gerard is cut off by a fist colliding with his gut, pushing him backwards and onto the floor. Frank climbs on top of him, grasping his shirt and pulling him up to meet Frank's lips.
"Fucking choke me." Frank commands against Gerard's lips.
Gerard tries to push him off, but Frank's got him pinned to the floor pretty good. He uses all his weight as he straddles Gerard's waist, his hand still fisted in Gerard's shirt, his free hand pressed against his chest.
Sitting up, he tastes Gerard on his lips, like cigarettes and diet coke, and it only fuels the want, the need, and this time he whispers it, forceful, "Choke me."
The back of his head hurts from where he hit the wall, and his back's feeling it, too, but when Gerard lifts his hand, all definitions of the word hesitant, and rests it on Frank's chest, that's all he feels. The solid heat of it, warm and incessant against him. He's sure Gerard can feel the erratic thump thump thump of his heart, like it's fighting to get out of his chest and terrorize some mother fucking cities, or something.
And Gerard's face. That's something else entirely that Frank's got to consider. He looks scared, his eyes wide and maybe he's paler than usual. Or maybe that's the shitty lighting. Frank's not really sure, but he leans forward and Gerard's hand slips up to his collarbone.
His lips twitch up into a grim smirk, and he says, quiet, "Don't be a fucking pussy, Gerard."
Gerard opens his mouth and looks like he's about to say something, maybe an indignant, "I'm not!" but he obviously thinks twice about it. Instead, he shuts his mouth and frowns.
And then he gets the angriest look on his face. Frank would laugh if Gerard's hand wasn't a mere inch from his throat.
Gerard glares at his hand, like it's standing between him and a billion dollars and just won't move, and Frank watches him carefully, still with the fucking smirk on his face. And then really, that worked, because it's like Gerard's made his decision as he swiftly brings his hand even higher, only briefly light against Frank's throat before he's grasping it, firm.
When Frank lets out a breath, it's more audible than when he doesn't have Gerard's fucking hand on his throat. He's not lame enough to feel like a slut when he says, "More."
Gerard mutters, "Don't tell me what to do," but tightens his grip anyway.
Frank almost grins, but the situation isn't really appropriate, and his air supply is getting cut off and it's seriously awesome. He's got the perfect view of Gerard's face, inches away from his own, and that's why he can see the exact second Gerard's eyes go from glazed over with uncertainty, to dark with, well, Frank's not totally sure, but. It makes Frank press just that much more into Gerard's hand.
And then he's being yanked forward by his throat, forward against Gerard's body until he collapses onto him completely. It's really uncomfortable lying against Gerard's arm, but Gerard's mouth is so close. He can feel the puffs of hot air against the skin below his ear, and it only makes him squirm because he's so turned on right now.
Trying to take in breaths, he sounds like a hoarse goose, and his chest is starting to hurt from not enough oxygen, but he doesn't want to tell Gerard to stop.
Then there's more than hot air. There's heatheatheat with a moist undertone when Gerard says, against his skin, "You fucking like this? You do, don't you?"
Frank pushes his face into Gerard's hair, presses himself farther in, breathless, "Fuck yes."
And because Gerard is Gerard, and this wouldn't be right if Gerard didn't make some sort of comment, he laughs, strained but not forced, and says, "You know, that's pretty slutty, right?"
Frank would very much like to tell him that no, his hand around Frank's throat is what's pretty fucking slutty, but he groans and gasps, "Fuck you."
"No," Gerard says. "Fuck you." Then releases Frank's throat, only to quickly put his hand on Frank's shoulder, swiftly flipping them. It's sort of impressive.
Frank wonders where Gerard learned his sexy porn flips while taking in a deep breath, the oxygen feeling like cold water after a day in the desert. But he's so ridiculously turned on, it's really not all that satisfying. And now he's got all of Gerard's weight pressing against him and a thigh between his legs. It makes him arch up only slightly, only to feel the friction against the front of his pants.
He feels like he needs to say something, except he doesn't actually know what, so he just says, "Gerard."
Gerard grabs Frank's wrists, brings them up over his head and pins them there, holding himself up and holding Frank down. He says nothing, but presses his thigh harder against Frank. And this time, that makes Frank buck up and squeeze his eyes shut briefly. He sort of struggles against Gerard's hold because he wants to touch, to feel, to pull Gerard down and just fucking kiss him. But Gerard's got him down pretty good, and why won't he just lean forward a bit and kiss Frank, hello, Frank doesn't have all day here.
When he does open his eyes, what he sees almost makes him close his them again to like, spontaneously orgasm or something. Gerard's chewing on his bottom lip and his eyes are dark, and if Frank didn't understand what the word 'aroused' meant, Gerard's face would certainly explain that. Frank considers trying to unlearn 'aroused' permanently, just so he can ask Gerard - Gerard's face - every single day.
And Frank gets it, okay, Gerard's aroused, yes. But the thing is, Gerard's not doing anything, and that is totally fucking unfair. It's unfair for him to have Frank pinned down with a thigh shoved between his legs, it's unfair for him to be so close, so warm and it's so unfair for him to even have the decency to get hard against Frank's leg when he's not going to actually kiss him, thank you very much.
"Gerard," Frank says, again, but it almost comes out as a whine. He quickly closes his mouth because okay, he's fine with telling Gerard what to do, but there's no way he's going to start begging.
So Frank does the first thing that comes to mind. Getting Gerard mad was what made this happen in the first place, right? And if it takes a push, well fuck, Frank's going to deliver that fucking push.
"Hey," he says, whispers, straining his neck up to get closer to Gerard's ear. "How would Mikey feel about this?"
Gerard shoves Frank's wrist harder into the crappy carpet.
"Do you think he'd even notice? I mean, hey, he's so busy with Pete, you know?"
"Frank," Gerard says, voice tight, and he closes his fingers around Frank's wrists even more like he's assuring Frank he has bruises that he was unaware of. "Shut up."
The right side of Frank's mouth twitches up. "But why, Gerard?" he asks, innocently. It's that voice he knows is really annoying, the one he uses when Bob tells him he's going to pound is face into the wall if he doesn't shut up. "What, is there something wrong?"
"Shut up."
And Frank's not really an animal, okay. Yeah, he climbs all over people, and he jumps on things, but that's just because he's Frank. But he can't help feeling a little animalish when he jerks forwards, closing his teeth around the collar of Gerard's shirt. If Gerard knew he was going to do that, Frank probably wouldn't have succeeded in quickly pulling Gerard down. His chest hits Frank's, and his head falls above Frank's shoulder, next to his own head.
Frank hooks his chin over Gerard's shoulder, knowing that he's got Gerard stuck, because if he moves, that'll do some seriously gnarly things to Frank's neck. He knows Gerard doesn't want to seriously injure him because, come on, it's Gerard.
"Are you jealous, Gerard?" Frank whispers, turned slightly, mouth pressed into Gerard's hair. "Is Pete taking your brother away from you?"
"Shut the fuck up," Gerard whispers, fiercely. "You don't know shit."
"Do you want to punch Pete? I mean, if I were losing a brother, I'd feel like punching somebody," Frank says, pushing against Gerard. "Do you want to punch somebody, Gerard?"
Frank wants to laugh, because he sounds like a fucking therapist - a psycho therapist, give or take, yeah - but Gerard's breathing is getting all weird, and maybe he's so slightly rutting up against Frank's leg, so it's not really all that funny.
It's like Gerard's run out of anything to say, like he can't think of anything else besides "shut up", because this time he says nothing at all.
So Frank continues. "Maybe," he whispers, and then lowers his voice even more when he says, "Maybe you just want to punch me." Then Frank makes a face, even though Gerard can't see. "Whatever, though, you know. I'd just fight back. Mikey would hold Pete back. But me, there'd be no one here to hold me back. Gerard, you know what I'd do?"
Gerard's gone oddly stiff, and Frank knew this would work, Gerard's totally giving in because he says, "Frank," ragged, wrecked.
"I wouldn't fight back like Pete would, I guess that would be obvious. I'd hit you, you know that. I'd push you, throw you against a wall. And then I'd keep you there, Gerard, I'd keep you there."
Frank's so sure he sounds fucking stupid, so fucking ridiculous, but it's working. Gerard's too easy, and his rutting becomes more noticeable.
"And then you know what. I think I'd kiss you. You'd want to push me away, I know you would, but I'd keep you still. Or maybe you wouldn't even push me away, you know? Maybe you'd let me because you're so fucking easy."
Frank takes his chin off Gerard's shoulder, his face out of Gerard's hair, and falls back against the carpet with a dull thud. Gerard's own face is centimeters away, and Frank looks away, shrugs sort of. "But, you know," he says, airily. "Whatever."
"Oh my God," Gerard groans, somewhere in between really fucking pissed off and totally annoyed. "You will not fucking shut up."
He mashes his mouth against Frank's, and it hurts, but it's so good, it's Gerard. And right when Frank starts to kiss back, Gerard pulls away.
"You are such a little shit. You know that?"
Frank would reply with something like, yeah, I get that sometimes, but Gerard's pressing forward again. It's hot and intense and needy, Gerard's mouth moving fast against his own. There's tongue and teeth and it's more painful than the average kiss should be, but it makes Frank shoves his hips up against Gerard's thigh, obviously makes Gerard thrust desperate against Frank's leg.
It's only when there's clicking that Frank realizes Gerard's not holding his wrists. The continuous firm press against them made the sensation stick when Gerard let go. Apparently he's managed to shove his hands between their bodies, get Frank's belt undone, and work on his own.
With his new found freedom, Frank's hands go to Gerard's hair, fingers closing together, pulling Gerard closer, if that's even possible by now.
He lifts his hips when Gerard tries to tug his jeans off, successfully assisting him in getting them off. His boxers get caught up with the jeans, and go along with them. When Gerard struggles with his own pants, his leg briefly brushes Frank's dick, who makes a small noise in the back of his throat, twists and shoves up looking for more.
But Gerard's not giving him more, too busy getting his pants off from around his ankles, shoving his own boxers down. He even breaks the kiss, too busy being a total fail right now. So, okay, Frank thinks, yeah, he wants to play the clothes off game right now, that's fine. Frank lets go of Gerard's hair, and pulls his shirt up, tugs, gets it off and throws it somewhere, where ever.
Frank thinks this is definitely good, though, totally getting somewhere. Gerard naked is certainly good, and he's obviously done, so Frank pulls Gerard back down, kissing him, and god. Gerard's dick slides against Frank's own and it's the best thing ever right now, because he was waiting for this.
And Frank can tell Gerard's still pissed, because he's pressing down against Frank, kissing Frank hard, not just desperate for it, but so angry. So mad that he has to find a way to fight even when they're basically getting it on.
Gerard pulls back, lifts his hand to his mouth, and licks it. He licks it and Frank almost fucking dies right there, because it's so dirty. This like, dirty lick that if Mikey saw, he'd probably shoot himself in the head and spoon his eyes out. Ray would probably faint and Bob would like, punch something. But Frank, he makes a noise in the back of his throat again, groans maybe, and says, "Oh my god."
He squeezes his eyes shut, ruts against Gerard, and feels Gerard's hand. It's not on his dick though, which is totally not fair, but on his own. That's kind of weird, but Frank doesn't really think anything of it. He doesn't think much of it either when Gerard pulls his hips back a little bit.
He does think plenty of it, though, when Gerard just fucking goes to town.
There's absolutely no preamble, besides the, hi-yeah-I'm-on-top-of-you thing. Gerard just goes for it, and when he goes for it, he fucking goes for it. He just pushes, and Frank has to squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lip like it's the end of the world. It really mother fucking hurts, it hurts, like somebody's trying to tear his entire body in half, like just splitting him down the middle isn't enough, they have to tear. He can't breathe and it takes a couple rounds of gasping for oxygen to actually get in his lungs. His stomach throbs dully from the effort and his body is almost but not quite convulsing.
It's probably the most painful thing he's ever experienced, including that time he broke his toes, and he loves it.
Frank digs his nails into Gerard's back, eases his eyes open. There's a brief moment where Gerard's face loses all the painted on anger. For a second, he looks apologetic, and Frank can feel his fingertips, feather light, trail down the side of Frank's face.
But it's only a flash, and Gerard's eyes are returning to black and he says, "Mother fucker," as he pulls out and thrusts back in, harsh and intense.
Frank squeezes his eyes shut again. He wants to say, You fucking dick, or even I'll fucking end the shit out of you, anything with a lot of swear words would do right now, really - but instead he says, "Gerard."
Well, okay, he gasps it. More like sort of says it, but it's really just one huge, choked breath.
Gerard's thrusting in out, in out, in out like some kind of fucking mad man, and all Frank can do is take it. Every movement Gerard makes sends shocks up and down Frank's spine, left and right to every single one of his fingertips. He can feel the rough pull-push, the stinging burn, and it's so good. Gerard pushes his hand up Frank's shirt, who forgot he was even wearing one. He shoves the material up around Frank's neck, trailing his hand back down Frank's torso. His hand is damp against Frank's skin, and Frank wants to just take Gerard's fingers into his mouth, lick them, suck them. He's not really sure why. He just wants to, okay.
He has no time to be ashamed when he groans against Gerard's neck, and then latches on. The skin tastes salty and sweet, mixed with sweat and Gerard.
There's that moment where it stops hurting as bad, not saying it doesn't hurt, because it does, but Frank feels his body open, feels when it gets better, gets awesome. Gerard's frantic, fast, and Frank's pushing up to meet him, pulling Gerard down. Gerard's not a particularly loud dude, and Frank sort of expected that, but he's making these little breathy noises, these little groans in the very back of his throat that make Frank want to keep him to himself, only to do dirty, dirty things to him every single day.
Gerard hits that spot, that spot that has Frank keening, pushing him closer to the edge. So, so close. Frank can feel it, he can feel it gathering in his stomach, he can feel his body sparking, numbing. It's so good, he's so close, he can't even breathe, he can't -
Gerard stops.
Gerard just stops and Frank is going to punch a mother fucker, what the actual fuck?
He pushes himself up with his arms, creating a foot of space between his head and Frank's head.
"What," Frank tries to say, but nothing comes out, his voice is so wrecked. He clears his throat and tries again. "What the fuck?"
Gerard says nothing, and the look he's giving Frank is actually for real freaking him out. Gerard supports himself on only one arm, and runs his hand back up Frank's chest, up the side of his face and runs it dirtily through his hair. He pulls it back down, coming to a rest on Frank's shirt.
"Gerard, just fucking," Frank groans, frustrated. "Come on, dude."
Frank's never been patient, and when Gerard's got his fucking dick buried in his ass, his fucking skin pressed against Frank's, his patience is like, fucking nonexistent.
And then Gerard gathers all the material in his one hand, so it's tight against the left side of Frank's neck, and then he pulls and pushes down. He's choking Frank again, with Frank's own mother fucking shirt, oh fuck. Frank moans throatily, using up most of the breath he has left, and his eyes fall closed. "Motherfucking fuck," he says, quietly.
He's losing it. Gerard's not moving, he's not moving at all like he should be, he's stealing Frank's breath - fucking literally - and Frank is losing it. Then Gerard's face is right down there with him, and he saying, "I want you to beg for it, Frank."
Frank groans. It's like this really turned on groan, but it's also a, fuck no protest kind of thing.
Gerard tightens his hold on the shirt, pulls it even more across Frank's throat. He leans in closer, so close, takes Frank's ear between his teeth. He let's go to breathe, "C'mon, Frankie. Beg for it."
He starts biting Frank's ear again, but moves down, moves his tongue along the lobe, along his jawline, down, so close to the fabric of Frank's shirt. Frank's getting close to that point where he just needs to breathe. The part where it gets a little less hot, where he doesn't really want to be bound, taken of his oxygen. But he's not the kind of person to beg, and he's not going to beg Gerard for anything.
But Gerard sucks on Frank's neck, just below his jaw, and he makes a teasing circle with his hips, brushing against the spot inside Frank, and there's only so much Frank can take.
"Frankie," Gerard says, low, his breath making the wet spot on Frank's neck feel cool. It makes Frank shiver. "Beg," he whispers, steady, commanding. What the fuck.
But Frank's gone, okay. He's fucking gone. He tries to find some breath, anything to gasp, "Gerard."
Gerard does this creepy smirk thing, like they're playing one of their shows and he's in character, and he makes a, "Hm?" noise.
"Come on," Frank says. It hurts to talk, sort of, and he feels like something's burning. He can't really pin point where, but he just feels a burn. It's from being choked, it's from their position, it's from the want that isn't getting anywhere because nothing's fucking happening.
"Say it, Frank," Gerard murmurs, doing the teasing hip circle thing again. He kisses Frank's jaw softly. "Say it."
Frank coughs. He coughs because he can't fucking breathe, he coughs because this is too fucking much, he coughs because there's so many other things he'd rather do than beg, like fuck Gerard into a mattress. He coughs, and he says, wrecked, ragged, practically silent, "Please."
And just like that, Gerard releases his hold, and Frank can breathe. Frank's vision gets less blurred, he hadn't even realized it was blurred in the first place, and his lungs briefly scream what the fuck, man.
Just like that, Gerard's moving again, thrustingthrustingthrusting. Frank was already so close, and he knows he's not going to last long. He groans, moans, squirms when Gerard constantly, continuously hits the right spot. He pulls at Gerard, nails in his back, bucks up. Gerard makes noises in his ear, goes hard, goes fast. And then Frank's done, he's so done, Gerard doesn't even have to touch him. One, two, three and he's coming, hot and intense, blacking out for he doesn't even know how long. Everything is quiet, dark, gone for a minute, it's just Frank and his head, and yet there's that warmth that he's drowning in. Gerard.
When he comes back, Gerard's on edge, dangerously close to falling off. Frank feels raw and exhausted, but it still feels good, like maybe he's riding out aftershocks. Gerard's having his own onetwothree, coming to an abrupt stop, stilling, and shaking. Frank feels Gerard come inside of him, and that's sort of gross, but sort of insanely hot, too.
When they're both limp, Gerard collapsed on top of Frank, that's when Frank sort of realizes exactly what they just did.
Gerard doesn't seem to really realize it yet, because he lazily pulls out, and drags his lips like some half-hearted kiss along Frank's jaw line and rolls off. He's lying beside Frank, his arm pressed against his own, and then Frank knows Gerard gets it, because he freezes.
"Well," Gerard says. "Shit."
Frank moves, twists, settles, feels the aching twinge. He sort of smirks, stares at the ceiling, and says, "Yeah."
Collaboration with yousmellslutty.
This was written like, I wanna say last November. It was supposed to be this really long epic thing, but I lost the inspiration and thus it never got completely finished. I just felt like this was really too good to just completely never post so I just decided to post it as a PWP.
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"Don't fucking tempt me Frank," Gerard grits through angry teeth. Frank pulls his socks off and shoots an angry look at his friend. Gerard's in a pissy mood and Frank's sick of sitting on his hands all day. Nothing against the rest of his band, but he just wants to bounce around with Gerard like normal.
"Come on Gerard, stop being such a pissy ass and do some crazy shit with me tonight like normal," he retorts, knowing that if he pushes Gerard enough, he'll do something. He'll either do something or he'll just brew in the corner and not talk to Frank for two days. The younger boy is used to this, but he knows when he's gone to far.
"Fucking shut the hell up!" Gerard screams at the top of his lungs. Frank's not even sure why he's so incredibly pissed off, but he's not giving up without a fight. He doesn't abide by rules, not even Gerard's.
He gets up and walks over and walks over to the other man, faces inches apart. "Why don't you fucking make me?" He sees Gerard's vein pop in his forehead and feels a fist collide with his cheek. On almost instinct, he throws one back, landing Gerard square in the face.
He punches Gerard again before Gerard even has time to react, hitting his nose and almost instantly setting a wave of blood running down his face. This is exactly the type of thing that Frank's talking about with Gerard, this is his type of fun.
Frank's smile increases as he watches the older man walk towards him with a glare that from anybody other than Gerard could actually make him fearful. He's bouncing on the tips of his toes now, the adrenaline starting to really kick in. Gerard can throw a punch just as well as he can take one, which only encourages Frank.
He doesn't even know why Gerard is angry at all. It could be an encounter with a critic or maybe he simply got woken up in the middle of a nap. Frank doesn't know and Frank doesn't care.
Gerard punches Frank in the stomach swiftly, causing the younger boy to take just a moment to recover before he's hitting Gerard back, throwing in a kick or two just to mix it up. Gerard's strong for being such a tiny thing, but Frank's even deadlier with the combination of strength, size and speed.
Gerard slams Frank against the wall, his back hitting with a loud thud. Gerard grasps Frank's shirt and lifts him up by the collar. "Fuck you Frank! Fucking fuck you! Do you have any idea what shit I've gone through today?" Gerard screams at Frank, his eyes black with rage as he glares straight into Frank's eyes.
Frank smiles back at Gerard, innocently as he bats his eyelashes like a girl, watching as Gerard fumes from the act, "Did Mikey forget you? Did he go with Pete and not tell you? Are you losing Mikey and knowing there's nothing you can do about it? Is somebody a little jealous? of Pete?"
Frank is pulled back from the wall, only to be pushed back harder this time, his head slamming painfully against the wall before his air supply is cut off. His hands instinctively fly to Gerard's wrists to pull them away, only falling limp against his sides once he realizes what's going on. He doesn't fight, just stares Gerard straight in the eye. His stare is steady, fixed on Gerard as his expression softens and he lets go of Frank, dropping him to the ground.
"Shit! Frankie - Fuck - I'm sorry! Fuck! I wasn't - I didn't even realize what I was doing!" Gerard curses as he pulls his hands back, staring at them as though they were poisoned. Frank can tell he's quickly becoming afraid of the power that's behind his very own hands. "Frank, are you - You're okay, right? I didn't try - I didn't mean it! I was so - you were - Fuck!"
Frank looks up at Gerard, his eyes darkening quickly. He asks in a low, husky voice, "Do it again." He watches Gerard's expression change, repeating his request, "Gerard. Choke me again." His tone is serious and hard, commanding Gerard in such a way.
Gerard pulls back, away from Frank, "What? What the - What are you fucking talking about? Frank?" Gerard is cut off by a fist colliding with his gut, pushing him backwards and onto the floor. Frank climbs on top of him, grasping his shirt and pulling him up to meet Frank's lips.
"Fucking choke me." Frank commands against Gerard's lips.
Gerard tries to push him off, but Frank's got him pinned to the floor pretty good. He uses all his weight as he straddles Gerard's waist, his hand still fisted in Gerard's shirt, his free hand pressed against his chest.
Sitting up, he tastes Gerard on his lips, like cigarettes and diet coke, and it only fuels the want, the need, and this time he whispers it, forceful, "Choke me."
The back of his head hurts from where he hit the wall, and his back's feeling it, too, but when Gerard lifts his hand, all definitions of the word hesitant, and rests it on Frank's chest, that's all he feels. The solid heat of it, warm and incessant against him. He's sure Gerard can feel the erratic thump thump thump of his heart, like it's fighting to get out of his chest and terrorize some mother fucking cities, or something.
And Gerard's face. That's something else entirely that Frank's got to consider. He looks scared, his eyes wide and maybe he's paler than usual. Or maybe that's the shitty lighting. Frank's not really sure, but he leans forward and Gerard's hand slips up to his collarbone.
His lips twitch up into a grim smirk, and he says, quiet, "Don't be a fucking pussy, Gerard."
Gerard opens his mouth and looks like he's about to say something, maybe an indignant, "I'm not!" but he obviously thinks twice about it. Instead, he shuts his mouth and frowns.
And then he gets the angriest look on his face. Frank would laugh if Gerard's hand wasn't a mere inch from his throat.
Gerard glares at his hand, like it's standing between him and a billion dollars and just won't move, and Frank watches him carefully, still with the fucking smirk on his face. And then really, that worked, because it's like Gerard's made his decision as he swiftly brings his hand even higher, only briefly light against Frank's throat before he's grasping it, firm.
When Frank lets out a breath, it's more audible than when he doesn't have Gerard's fucking hand on his throat. He's not lame enough to feel like a slut when he says, "More."
Gerard mutters, "Don't tell me what to do," but tightens his grip anyway.
Frank almost grins, but the situation isn't really appropriate, and his air supply is getting cut off and it's seriously awesome. He's got the perfect view of Gerard's face, inches away from his own, and that's why he can see the exact second Gerard's eyes go from glazed over with uncertainty, to dark with, well, Frank's not totally sure, but. It makes Frank press just that much more into Gerard's hand.
And then he's being yanked forward by his throat, forward against Gerard's body until he collapses onto him completely. It's really uncomfortable lying against Gerard's arm, but Gerard's mouth is so close. He can feel the puffs of hot air against the skin below his ear, and it only makes him squirm because he's so turned on right now.
Trying to take in breaths, he sounds like a hoarse goose, and his chest is starting to hurt from not enough oxygen, but he doesn't want to tell Gerard to stop.
Then there's more than hot air. There's heatheatheat with a moist undertone when Gerard says, against his skin, "You fucking like this? You do, don't you?"
Frank pushes his face into Gerard's hair, presses himself farther in, breathless, "Fuck yes."
And because Gerard is Gerard, and this wouldn't be right if Gerard didn't make some sort of comment, he laughs, strained but not forced, and says, "You know, that's pretty slutty, right?"
Frank would very much like to tell him that no, his hand around Frank's throat is what's pretty fucking slutty, but he groans and gasps, "Fuck you."
"No," Gerard says. "Fuck you." Then releases Frank's throat, only to quickly put his hand on Frank's shoulder, swiftly flipping them. It's sort of impressive.
Frank wonders where Gerard learned his sexy porn flips while taking in a deep breath, the oxygen feeling like cold water after a day in the desert. But he's so ridiculously turned on, it's really not all that satisfying. And now he's got all of Gerard's weight pressing against him and a thigh between his legs. It makes him arch up only slightly, only to feel the friction against the front of his pants.
He feels like he needs to say something, except he doesn't actually know what, so he just says, "Gerard."
Gerard grabs Frank's wrists, brings them up over his head and pins them there, holding himself up and holding Frank down. He says nothing, but presses his thigh harder against Frank. And this time, that makes Frank buck up and squeeze his eyes shut briefly. He sort of struggles against Gerard's hold because he wants to touch, to feel, to pull Gerard down and just fucking kiss him. But Gerard's got him down pretty good, and why won't he just lean forward a bit and kiss Frank, hello, Frank doesn't have all day here.
When he does open his eyes, what he sees almost makes him close his them again to like, spontaneously orgasm or something. Gerard's chewing on his bottom lip and his eyes are dark, and if Frank didn't understand what the word 'aroused' meant, Gerard's face would certainly explain that. Frank considers trying to unlearn 'aroused' permanently, just so he can ask Gerard - Gerard's face - every single day.
And Frank gets it, okay, Gerard's aroused, yes. But the thing is, Gerard's not doing anything, and that is totally fucking unfair. It's unfair for him to have Frank pinned down with a thigh shoved between his legs, it's unfair for him to be so close, so warm and it's so unfair for him to even have the decency to get hard against Frank's leg when he's not going to actually kiss him, thank you very much.
"Gerard," Frank says, again, but it almost comes out as a whine. He quickly closes his mouth because okay, he's fine with telling Gerard what to do, but there's no way he's going to start begging.
So Frank does the first thing that comes to mind. Getting Gerard mad was what made this happen in the first place, right? And if it takes a push, well fuck, Frank's going to deliver that fucking push.
"Hey," he says, whispers, straining his neck up to get closer to Gerard's ear. "How would Mikey feel about this?"
Gerard shoves Frank's wrist harder into the crappy carpet.
"Do you think he'd even notice? I mean, hey, he's so busy with Pete, you know?"
"Frank," Gerard says, voice tight, and he closes his fingers around Frank's wrists even more like he's assuring Frank he has bruises that he was unaware of. "Shut up."
The right side of Frank's mouth twitches up. "But why, Gerard?" he asks, innocently. It's that voice he knows is really annoying, the one he uses when Bob tells him he's going to pound is face into the wall if he doesn't shut up. "What, is there something wrong?"
"Shut up."
And Frank's not really an animal, okay. Yeah, he climbs all over people, and he jumps on things, but that's just because he's Frank. But he can't help feeling a little animalish when he jerks forwards, closing his teeth around the collar of Gerard's shirt. If Gerard knew he was going to do that, Frank probably wouldn't have succeeded in quickly pulling Gerard down. His chest hits Frank's, and his head falls above Frank's shoulder, next to his own head.
Frank hooks his chin over Gerard's shoulder, knowing that he's got Gerard stuck, because if he moves, that'll do some seriously gnarly things to Frank's neck. He knows Gerard doesn't want to seriously injure him because, come on, it's Gerard.
"Are you jealous, Gerard?" Frank whispers, turned slightly, mouth pressed into Gerard's hair. "Is Pete taking your brother away from you?"
"Shut the fuck up," Gerard whispers, fiercely. "You don't know shit."
"Do you want to punch Pete? I mean, if I were losing a brother, I'd feel like punching somebody," Frank says, pushing against Gerard. "Do you want to punch somebody, Gerard?"
Frank wants to laugh, because he sounds like a fucking therapist - a psycho therapist, give or take, yeah - but Gerard's breathing is getting all weird, and maybe he's so slightly rutting up against Frank's leg, so it's not really all that funny.
It's like Gerard's run out of anything to say, like he can't think of anything else besides "shut up", because this time he says nothing at all.
So Frank continues. "Maybe," he whispers, and then lowers his voice even more when he says, "Maybe you just want to punch me." Then Frank makes a face, even though Gerard can't see. "Whatever, though, you know. I'd just fight back. Mikey would hold Pete back. But me, there'd be no one here to hold me back. Gerard, you know what I'd do?"
Gerard's gone oddly stiff, and Frank knew this would work, Gerard's totally giving in because he says, "Frank," ragged, wrecked.
"I wouldn't fight back like Pete would, I guess that would be obvious. I'd hit you, you know that. I'd push you, throw you against a wall. And then I'd keep you there, Gerard, I'd keep you there."
Frank's so sure he sounds fucking stupid, so fucking ridiculous, but it's working. Gerard's too easy, and his rutting becomes more noticeable.
"And then you know what. I think I'd kiss you. You'd want to push me away, I know you would, but I'd keep you still. Or maybe you wouldn't even push me away, you know? Maybe you'd let me because you're so fucking easy."
Frank takes his chin off Gerard's shoulder, his face out of Gerard's hair, and falls back against the carpet with a dull thud. Gerard's own face is centimeters away, and Frank looks away, shrugs sort of. "But, you know," he says, airily. "Whatever."
"Oh my God," Gerard groans, somewhere in between really fucking pissed off and totally annoyed. "You will not fucking shut up."
He mashes his mouth against Frank's, and it hurts, but it's so good, it's Gerard. And right when Frank starts to kiss back, Gerard pulls away.
"You are such a little shit. You know that?"
Frank would reply with something like, yeah, I get that sometimes, but Gerard's pressing forward again. It's hot and intense and needy, Gerard's mouth moving fast against his own. There's tongue and teeth and it's more painful than the average kiss should be, but it makes Frank shoves his hips up against Gerard's thigh, obviously makes Gerard thrust desperate against Frank's leg.
It's only when there's clicking that Frank realizes Gerard's not holding his wrists. The continuous firm press against them made the sensation stick when Gerard let go. Apparently he's managed to shove his hands between their bodies, get Frank's belt undone, and work on his own.
With his new found freedom, Frank's hands go to Gerard's hair, fingers closing together, pulling Gerard closer, if that's even possible by now.
He lifts his hips when Gerard tries to tug his jeans off, successfully assisting him in getting them off. His boxers get caught up with the jeans, and go along with them. When Gerard struggles with his own pants, his leg briefly brushes Frank's dick, who makes a small noise in the back of his throat, twists and shoves up looking for more.
But Gerard's not giving him more, too busy getting his pants off from around his ankles, shoving his own boxers down. He even breaks the kiss, too busy being a total fail right now. So, okay, Frank thinks, yeah, he wants to play the clothes off game right now, that's fine. Frank lets go of Gerard's hair, and pulls his shirt up, tugs, gets it off and throws it somewhere, where ever.
Frank thinks this is definitely good, though, totally getting somewhere. Gerard naked is certainly good, and he's obviously done, so Frank pulls Gerard back down, kissing him, and god. Gerard's dick slides against Frank's own and it's the best thing ever right now, because he was waiting for this.
And Frank can tell Gerard's still pissed, because he's pressing down against Frank, kissing Frank hard, not just desperate for it, but so angry. So mad that he has to find a way to fight even when they're basically getting it on.
Gerard pulls back, lifts his hand to his mouth, and licks it. He licks it and Frank almost fucking dies right there, because it's so dirty. This like, dirty lick that if Mikey saw, he'd probably shoot himself in the head and spoon his eyes out. Ray would probably faint and Bob would like, punch something. But Frank, he makes a noise in the back of his throat again, groans maybe, and says, "Oh my god."
He squeezes his eyes shut, ruts against Gerard, and feels Gerard's hand. It's not on his dick though, which is totally not fair, but on his own. That's kind of weird, but Frank doesn't really think anything of it. He doesn't think much of it either when Gerard pulls his hips back a little bit.
He does think plenty of it, though, when Gerard just fucking goes to town.
There's absolutely no preamble, besides the, hi-yeah-I'm-on-top-of-you thing. Gerard just goes for it, and when he goes for it, he fucking goes for it. He just pushes, and Frank has to squeeze his eyes shut and bite his lip like it's the end of the world. It really mother fucking hurts, it hurts, like somebody's trying to tear his entire body in half, like just splitting him down the middle isn't enough, they have to tear. He can't breathe and it takes a couple rounds of gasping for oxygen to actually get in his lungs. His stomach throbs dully from the effort and his body is almost but not quite convulsing.
It's probably the most painful thing he's ever experienced, including that time he broke his toes, and he loves it.
Frank digs his nails into Gerard's back, eases his eyes open. There's a brief moment where Gerard's face loses all the painted on anger. For a second, he looks apologetic, and Frank can feel his fingertips, feather light, trail down the side of Frank's face.
But it's only a flash, and Gerard's eyes are returning to black and he says, "Mother fucker," as he pulls out and thrusts back in, harsh and intense.
Frank squeezes his eyes shut again. He wants to say, You fucking dick, or even I'll fucking end the shit out of you, anything with a lot of swear words would do right now, really - but instead he says, "Gerard."
Well, okay, he gasps it. More like sort of says it, but it's really just one huge, choked breath.
Gerard's thrusting in out, in out, in out like some kind of fucking mad man, and all Frank can do is take it. Every movement Gerard makes sends shocks up and down Frank's spine, left and right to every single one of his fingertips. He can feel the rough pull-push, the stinging burn, and it's so good. Gerard pushes his hand up Frank's shirt, who forgot he was even wearing one. He shoves the material up around Frank's neck, trailing his hand back down Frank's torso. His hand is damp against Frank's skin, and Frank wants to just take Gerard's fingers into his mouth, lick them, suck them. He's not really sure why. He just wants to, okay.
He has no time to be ashamed when he groans against Gerard's neck, and then latches on. The skin tastes salty and sweet, mixed with sweat and Gerard.
There's that moment where it stops hurting as bad, not saying it doesn't hurt, because it does, but Frank feels his body open, feels when it gets better, gets awesome. Gerard's frantic, fast, and Frank's pushing up to meet him, pulling Gerard down. Gerard's not a particularly loud dude, and Frank sort of expected that, but he's making these little breathy noises, these little groans in the very back of his throat that make Frank want to keep him to himself, only to do dirty, dirty things to him every single day.
Gerard hits that spot, that spot that has Frank keening, pushing him closer to the edge. So, so close. Frank can feel it, he can feel it gathering in his stomach, he can feel his body sparking, numbing. It's so good, he's so close, he can't even breathe, he can't -
Gerard stops.
Gerard just stops and Frank is going to punch a mother fucker, what the actual fuck?
He pushes himself up with his arms, creating a foot of space between his head and Frank's head.
"What," Frank tries to say, but nothing comes out, his voice is so wrecked. He clears his throat and tries again. "What the fuck?"
Gerard says nothing, and the look he's giving Frank is actually for real freaking him out. Gerard supports himself on only one arm, and runs his hand back up Frank's chest, up the side of his face and runs it dirtily through his hair. He pulls it back down, coming to a rest on Frank's shirt.
"Gerard, just fucking," Frank groans, frustrated. "Come on, dude."
Frank's never been patient, and when Gerard's got his fucking dick buried in his ass, his fucking skin pressed against Frank's, his patience is like, fucking nonexistent.
And then Gerard gathers all the material in his one hand, so it's tight against the left side of Frank's neck, and then he pulls and pushes down. He's choking Frank again, with Frank's own mother fucking shirt, oh fuck. Frank moans throatily, using up most of the breath he has left, and his eyes fall closed. "Motherfucking fuck," he says, quietly.
He's losing it. Gerard's not moving, he's not moving at all like he should be, he's stealing Frank's breath - fucking literally - and Frank is losing it. Then Gerard's face is right down there with him, and he saying, "I want you to beg for it, Frank."
Frank groans. It's like this really turned on groan, but it's also a, fuck no protest kind of thing.
Gerard tightens his hold on the shirt, pulls it even more across Frank's throat. He leans in closer, so close, takes Frank's ear between his teeth. He let's go to breathe, "C'mon, Frankie. Beg for it."
He starts biting Frank's ear again, but moves down, moves his tongue along the lobe, along his jawline, down, so close to the fabric of Frank's shirt. Frank's getting close to that point where he just needs to breathe. The part where it gets a little less hot, where he doesn't really want to be bound, taken of his oxygen. But he's not the kind of person to beg, and he's not going to beg Gerard for anything.
But Gerard sucks on Frank's neck, just below his jaw, and he makes a teasing circle with his hips, brushing against the spot inside Frank, and there's only so much Frank can take.
"Frankie," Gerard says, low, his breath making the wet spot on Frank's neck feel cool. It makes Frank shiver. "Beg," he whispers, steady, commanding. What the fuck.
But Frank's gone, okay. He's fucking gone. He tries to find some breath, anything to gasp, "Gerard."
Gerard does this creepy smirk thing, like they're playing one of their shows and he's in character, and he makes a, "Hm?" noise.
"Come on," Frank says. It hurts to talk, sort of, and he feels like something's burning. He can't really pin point where, but he just feels a burn. It's from being choked, it's from their position, it's from the want that isn't getting anywhere because nothing's fucking happening.
"Say it, Frank," Gerard murmurs, doing the teasing hip circle thing again. He kisses Frank's jaw softly. "Say it."
Frank coughs. He coughs because he can't fucking breathe, he coughs because this is too fucking much, he coughs because there's so many other things he'd rather do than beg, like fuck Gerard into a mattress. He coughs, and he says, wrecked, ragged, practically silent, "Please."
And just like that, Gerard releases his hold, and Frank can breathe. Frank's vision gets less blurred, he hadn't even realized it was blurred in the first place, and his lungs briefly scream what the fuck, man.
Just like that, Gerard's moving again, thrustingthrustingthrusting. Frank was already so close, and he knows he's not going to last long. He groans, moans, squirms when Gerard constantly, continuously hits the right spot. He pulls at Gerard, nails in his back, bucks up. Gerard makes noises in his ear, goes hard, goes fast. And then Frank's done, he's so done, Gerard doesn't even have to touch him. One, two, three and he's coming, hot and intense, blacking out for he doesn't even know how long. Everything is quiet, dark, gone for a minute, it's just Frank and his head, and yet there's that warmth that he's drowning in. Gerard.
When he comes back, Gerard's on edge, dangerously close to falling off. Frank feels raw and exhausted, but it still feels good, like maybe he's riding out aftershocks. Gerard's having his own onetwothree, coming to an abrupt stop, stilling, and shaking. Frank feels Gerard come inside of him, and that's sort of gross, but sort of insanely hot, too.
When they're both limp, Gerard collapsed on top of Frank, that's when Frank sort of realizes exactly what they just did.
Gerard doesn't seem to really realize it yet, because he lazily pulls out, and drags his lips like some half-hearted kiss along Frank's jaw line and rolls off. He's lying beside Frank, his arm pressed against his own, and then Frank knows Gerard gets it, because he freezes.
"Well," Gerard says. "Shit."
Frank moves, twists, settles, feels the aching twinge. He sort of smirks, stares at the ceiling, and says, "Yeah."