tequila sunrise
Bert/Gerard
Third person
Standalone
NC17 (swearing, alcohol, sex, S&M)
written April 2006
Notes: For the bert_and_gerard Kinky Smutfic Challenge. Kind of says it all really ;)
The first time it happens, they're sitting on the sofa in the tourbus, both piss-ass drunk and laughing at nothing. Gerard's eyes are half-closed, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head thrown back against the couch, revealing the lines of his long, pale neck. Bert, his legs crossed like an eager first-grader, is hugging a cushion, occasionally burying his face in it when he laughs too loudly. But most of the time, he's watching the adam's apple in Gerard's throat moving as he speaks. He can almost see the gentle vibrations the older man's vocal chords make when he laughs; he can almost feel them sending ripples down his spine.
The others have gone; Branden had given them an exasperated look before he and Jeph disappeared, murmuring something along the lines of "such a fucking idiot ... pair of lushes ... clean your shit up ... " Bert thinks they've gone to a hotel for the night. And Quinn -- well, Quinn is God-knows-where. Not that he cares at this particular moment, as he grabs the tequila from the table and refills the two shot glasses, screwing the cap in place awkwardly before setting the bottle on the ground.
He reaches for the shot glasses and hands one to Gerard, who licks imaginary salt from the back of his hand, downs the tequila and wrinkles his nose, then shudders as he sucks on a piece of imaginary lemon. Bert doesn't bother with the pretence; he just swallows the liquor and grits his teeth as it burns its way down his throat.
"Da-da-dada-da-da-duh-duh! Tequila!" Gerard sings drunkenly before bursting into giggles. Bert leaps off the sofa and joins in the singing, turning around to shake his ass in the older man's face.
"Jesus fucking Christ! Like I wanna see that, McCracken!" he slurs, slapping Bert's backside roughly. "What the fuck did they teach you in Utah?"
Bert keeps dancing, if you can call it that. "They taught me how to shake my ass like this, bitch!"
Gerard's hand makes contact with Bert's butt again, making both men collapse in fits of laughter. Bert drops to his knees, literally shaking with mirth, still feeling the warm sting of his friend's hand against his skin. Gerard closes his eyes and throws his head back so hard that it collides with the back of the sofa. He lets out a soft moan and rubs his head, still smirking.
"You know the funny thing? You didn't even say 'ouch'."
"Hmm?"
"When I was slapping your ass. What -- did ya like it or something?" Gerard's left hand moves towards the tequila and pulls it towards him. He opens the bottle and swigs from it, not bothering with a glass. "D'you crack a boner every time someone smacks you? You one of those kinky S&M motherfuckers?"
"Fuck yeah," Bert says, grabbing the bottle from Gerard. His free hand reaches down to rub at his crotch. "Such a fucking turn-on ... " he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.
And they're both laughing again, so much so that Bert drops the tequila bottle, spilling it on the tiled floor of the bus. Gerard leaps off the sofa and rescues the bottle before any more precious alcohol can be lost, while Bert gets on all fours and laps the booze from the tiles, his hair absorbing as much of the liquid as his tongue does.
"So it's official," Gerard says, retreating back to the couch. He clutches the tequila bottle protectively as he watches his friend's rather feline performance. "Bert is a pussy! I fucking knew it."
Bert sticks his ass in the air and wiggles it again, still licking the alcohol from the floor.
"You want me to come over there and spank you again?"
Bert nods, still lapping slowly, curling his tongue back into his mouth with relish, and lets his elbows drop to the floor, his ass rising even higher.
"Oh, that's it, you kinky fucker," he mutters, leaving the bottle on the sofa as he stands up and sways, moving lightheadedly in Bert's direction.
Once Gerard is actually standing behind Bert, staring at that little round ass, he can't control his twitching mouth and starts to laugh again. Weakly, he manages to backhand Bert a few times, every little slap punctuated by a giggle. Bert has stopped licking the floor by this stage; he's lifting his head, arching his back, pushing his ass closer to Gerard's hands.
"Harder, Gee," he whispers, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.
The older man freezes and feels ten times more sober than he did a few minutes before. "Wha-- it was a joke!" he splutters, stumbling backwards, suddenly craving the feel of the liquor bottle in his hands. "I was joking! You were -- I'm not -- I didn't think you really -- you've got a girlfriend!"
Bert turns his head. "Aw, come on! Hit me. What've you got to lose?"
"My lunch," Gerard says without thinking.
Bert gets to his feet slowly and grins. "You didn't eat lunch. You just drank some coffee and snorted coke in the bathroom when you thought no-one was around."
Gerard sniffles, unconsciously proving Bert's statement correct, and shakes his head. "You been stalking me or something?"
"No. I'm not a dumbass, Gee." He walks right up to the older man, who's standing with his back pressed against the bus wall, as if he's been cornered. Bert's breath is hot, laced with alcohol, and Gerard can feel himself getting drunk off it, just from the proximity.
"Bert -- "
"All those times we kissed, Gee, you think I didn't know you had a hard-on? You think I don't know you want me?"
Gerard's breath hitches in his throat. "I -- "
The younger man grins ferally, his blue eyes glinting through strings of tequila-soaked black hair. "If you wanna fuck me, you can ... but only if you spank me first," he whispers. Bert's voice is like smooth liquid poured over a truckload of gravel, and Gerard shivers.
"If -- if that's what you want," he croaks.
Then Bert kisses him, hard and hot and wet and sloppy; it's all darting, aggressive tongues and fingers digging into soft flesh. He grabs the drawstring of Gerard's hoodie and drags him back to the couch, tugging at the fastening of his own pants and pushing them down as they fall onto the cushions, letting the forgotten tequila bottle hit the floor.
The first thing Gerard notices is that Bert's half-naked; the second thing he notices is that Bert's hard. And ... wow. His hand, almost of its own free will, slides along the younger man's silky thigh and brushes against his cock, making Bert tense and draw in a sharp breath.
"You impressed?" Bert says, a slightly dazed grin on his face as Gerard starts to stroke him.
"More than you know."
"We must be really fucking drunk ... "
Gerard smirks. "Yeah."
There's a pause, punctuated only by kissing and irregular breathing, before Bert speaks again. "You sobering up?"
"Nope."
And for some reason he can't quite fathom, that word means everything to Bert.
He smiles and pushes Gerard's hands away from his erection, then rolls onto his stomach and slides up onto his knees. The older man grins and climbs off the couch, standing quietly for a second as he stares at the sight in front of him. But Bert's impatient and looks up at him, eyebrows raised.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Just wondering ... d'you like spanking with hands, or, uh -- other things?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Oh. Well, there's this ... " he says, moving over to the table and picking up one of Branden's drumsticks, then twirling it in his fingers. Gerard stops and looks at his hand, impressed that his motor skills still work so well; he thought he was drunker than that. He looks over at Bert, who giggles softly and beckons him back to the sofa with the crook of a finger.
Bert can't help laughing when he thinks about defiling Branden's straight-edge drumsticks with drunken, kinky sex ... gay sex ... sex with Gerard ... He grasps his cock and starts stroking roughly, biting back his moans as his best friend approaches him, drumstick in hand.
"H-how hard?"
"Hard," Bert gasps, tensing the muscles in his back as he braces himself. He's holding his breath so tightly that his chest hurts.
Gerard traces the tip of the drumstick along Bert's ass, making the younger man release his breath with a hiss, then gently taps it against the flesh.
"That all you got?"
Gerard laughs softly and hits him again, harder this time, the drumstick making a sharp cracking sound against Bert's skin. "More like that?"
"Oh -- fuck ... yes," he pants, still jerking himself off as Gerard hits him again. And again. And again.
By the time Gerard throws the drumstick across the bus and decides to fuck Bert, the younger man's ass and lower back are littered with long, thin marks; first white, then turning pink and darkening to red, like clouds surrounded by a rising sun. They'll go purple, then grey-brown, and fade to yellow before they disappear. It might take weeks ...
But neither of them care about that right now; least of all Bert, who's moaning and pushing backwards as Gerard fucks him on the sofa from behind. Right now, Bert couldn't care less. Not when Gerard's pants are around his ankles, his hips making obscenely arousing slapping sounds as they make contact with Bert's bruised ass. Not when Gerard's cock is so deeply buried inside him, not when Gerard's tequila-sodden mouth is nipping at his earlobe and muttering how good Bert feels, how hot he is, over and over like a mantra. Not when Gerard's clumsy hands start to pump at Bert's cock, and he's moving so hard, so fast, so fucking deep, that Bert can't hold on for one more second.
And when they're finally done -- both of them screaming their orgasms with the same intensity they use to scream their lyrics -- only then does Bert rub his ass-cheek ruefully and admit that yeah, it did hurt a little bit ...
Third person
Standalone
NC17 (swearing, alcohol, sex, S&M)
written April 2006
Notes: For the bert_and_gerard Kinky Smutfic Challenge. Kind of says it all really ;)
The first time it happens, they're sitting on the sofa in the tourbus, both piss-ass drunk and laughing at nothing. Gerard's eyes are half-closed, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head thrown back against the couch, revealing the lines of his long, pale neck. Bert, his legs crossed like an eager first-grader, is hugging a cushion, occasionally burying his face in it when he laughs too loudly. But most of the time, he's watching the adam's apple in Gerard's throat moving as he speaks. He can almost see the gentle vibrations the older man's vocal chords make when he laughs; he can almost feel them sending ripples down his spine.
The others have gone; Branden had given them an exasperated look before he and Jeph disappeared, murmuring something along the lines of "such a fucking idiot ... pair of lushes ... clean your shit up ... " Bert thinks they've gone to a hotel for the night. And Quinn -- well, Quinn is God-knows-where. Not that he cares at this particular moment, as he grabs the tequila from the table and refills the two shot glasses, screwing the cap in place awkwardly before setting the bottle on the ground.
He reaches for the shot glasses and hands one to Gerard, who licks imaginary salt from the back of his hand, downs the tequila and wrinkles his nose, then shudders as he sucks on a piece of imaginary lemon. Bert doesn't bother with the pretence; he just swallows the liquor and grits his teeth as it burns its way down his throat.
"Da-da-dada-da-da-duh-duh! Tequila!" Gerard sings drunkenly before bursting into giggles. Bert leaps off the sofa and joins in the singing, turning around to shake his ass in the older man's face.
"Jesus fucking Christ! Like I wanna see that, McCracken!" he slurs, slapping Bert's backside roughly. "What the fuck did they teach you in Utah?"
Bert keeps dancing, if you can call it that. "They taught me how to shake my ass like this, bitch!"
Gerard's hand makes contact with Bert's butt again, making both men collapse in fits of laughter. Bert drops to his knees, literally shaking with mirth, still feeling the warm sting of his friend's hand against his skin. Gerard closes his eyes and throws his head back so hard that it collides with the back of the sofa. He lets out a soft moan and rubs his head, still smirking.
"You know the funny thing? You didn't even say 'ouch'."
"Hmm?"
"When I was slapping your ass. What -- did ya like it or something?" Gerard's left hand moves towards the tequila and pulls it towards him. He opens the bottle and swigs from it, not bothering with a glass. "D'you crack a boner every time someone smacks you? You one of those kinky S&M motherfuckers?"
"Fuck yeah," Bert says, grabbing the bottle from Gerard. His free hand reaches down to rub at his crotch. "Such a fucking turn-on ... " he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.
And they're both laughing again, so much so that Bert drops the tequila bottle, spilling it on the tiled floor of the bus. Gerard leaps off the sofa and rescues the bottle before any more precious alcohol can be lost, while Bert gets on all fours and laps the booze from the tiles, his hair absorbing as much of the liquid as his tongue does.
"So it's official," Gerard says, retreating back to the couch. He clutches the tequila bottle protectively as he watches his friend's rather feline performance. "Bert is a pussy! I fucking knew it."
Bert sticks his ass in the air and wiggles it again, still licking the alcohol from the floor.
"You want me to come over there and spank you again?"
Bert nods, still lapping slowly, curling his tongue back into his mouth with relish, and lets his elbows drop to the floor, his ass rising even higher.
"Oh, that's it, you kinky fucker," he mutters, leaving the bottle on the sofa as he stands up and sways, moving lightheadedly in Bert's direction.
Once Gerard is actually standing behind Bert, staring at that little round ass, he can't control his twitching mouth and starts to laugh again. Weakly, he manages to backhand Bert a few times, every little slap punctuated by a giggle. Bert has stopped licking the floor by this stage; he's lifting his head, arching his back, pushing his ass closer to Gerard's hands.
"Harder, Gee," he whispers, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.
The older man freezes and feels ten times more sober than he did a few minutes before. "Wha-- it was a joke!" he splutters, stumbling backwards, suddenly craving the feel of the liquor bottle in his hands. "I was joking! You were -- I'm not -- I didn't think you really -- you've got a girlfriend!"
Bert turns his head. "Aw, come on! Hit me. What've you got to lose?"
"My lunch," Gerard says without thinking.
Bert gets to his feet slowly and grins. "You didn't eat lunch. You just drank some coffee and snorted coke in the bathroom when you thought no-one was around."
Gerard sniffles, unconsciously proving Bert's statement correct, and shakes his head. "You been stalking me or something?"
"No. I'm not a dumbass, Gee." He walks right up to the older man, who's standing with his back pressed against the bus wall, as if he's been cornered. Bert's breath is hot, laced with alcohol, and Gerard can feel himself getting drunk off it, just from the proximity.
"Bert -- "
"All those times we kissed, Gee, you think I didn't know you had a hard-on? You think I don't know you want me?"
Gerard's breath hitches in his throat. "I -- "
The younger man grins ferally, his blue eyes glinting through strings of tequila-soaked black hair. "If you wanna fuck me, you can ... but only if you spank me first," he whispers. Bert's voice is like smooth liquid poured over a truckload of gravel, and Gerard shivers.
"If -- if that's what you want," he croaks.
Then Bert kisses him, hard and hot and wet and sloppy; it's all darting, aggressive tongues and fingers digging into soft flesh. He grabs the drawstring of Gerard's hoodie and drags him back to the couch, tugging at the fastening of his own pants and pushing them down as they fall onto the cushions, letting the forgotten tequila bottle hit the floor.
The first thing Gerard notices is that Bert's half-naked; the second thing he notices is that Bert's hard. And ... wow. His hand, almost of its own free will, slides along the younger man's silky thigh and brushes against his cock, making Bert tense and draw in a sharp breath.
"You impressed?" Bert says, a slightly dazed grin on his face as Gerard starts to stroke him.
"More than you know."
"We must be really fucking drunk ... "
Gerard smirks. "Yeah."
There's a pause, punctuated only by kissing and irregular breathing, before Bert speaks again. "You sobering up?"
"Nope."
And for some reason he can't quite fathom, that word means everything to Bert.
He smiles and pushes Gerard's hands away from his erection, then rolls onto his stomach and slides up onto his knees. The older man grins and climbs off the couch, standing quietly for a second as he stares at the sight in front of him. But Bert's impatient and looks up at him, eyebrows raised.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Just wondering ... d'you like spanking with hands, or, uh -- other things?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Oh. Well, there's this ... " he says, moving over to the table and picking up one of Branden's drumsticks, then twirling it in his fingers. Gerard stops and looks at his hand, impressed that his motor skills still work so well; he thought he was drunker than that. He looks over at Bert, who giggles softly and beckons him back to the sofa with the crook of a finger.
Bert can't help laughing when he thinks about defiling Branden's straight-edge drumsticks with drunken, kinky sex ... gay sex ... sex with Gerard ... He grasps his cock and starts stroking roughly, biting back his moans as his best friend approaches him, drumstick in hand.
"H-how hard?"
"Hard," Bert gasps, tensing the muscles in his back as he braces himself. He's holding his breath so tightly that his chest hurts.
Gerard traces the tip of the drumstick along Bert's ass, making the younger man release his breath with a hiss, then gently taps it against the flesh.
"That all you got?"
Gerard laughs softly and hits him again, harder this time, the drumstick making a sharp cracking sound against Bert's skin. "More like that?"
"Oh -- fuck ... yes," he pants, still jerking himself off as Gerard hits him again. And again. And again.
By the time Gerard throws the drumstick across the bus and decides to fuck Bert, the younger man's ass and lower back are littered with long, thin marks; first white, then turning pink and darkening to red, like clouds surrounded by a rising sun. They'll go purple, then grey-brown, and fade to yellow before they disappear. It might take weeks ...
But neither of them care about that right now; least of all Bert, who's moaning and pushing backwards as Gerard fucks him on the sofa from behind. Right now, Bert couldn't care less. Not when Gerard's pants are around his ankles, his hips making obscenely arousing slapping sounds as they make contact with Bert's bruised ass. Not when Gerard's cock is so deeply buried inside him, not when Gerard's tequila-sodden mouth is nipping at his earlobe and muttering how good Bert feels, how hot he is, over and over like a mantra. Not when Gerard's clumsy hands start to pump at Bert's cock, and he's moving so hard, so fast, so fucking deep, that Bert can't hold on for one more second.
And when they're finally done -- both of them screaming their orgasms with the same intensity they use to scream their lyrics -- only then does Bert rub his ass-cheek ruefully and admit that yeah, it did hurt a little bit ...