Fic: We Used To Be Friends (4/5)
Master Post | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Previous
***
The first sign that Frank might actually get back inside is a shriek, followed by hushed whisperings and a few people calling out, "Mikey! Mikey, over here!"
When Frank looks up from the gutter he's sitting in, like some kind of homeless person, he can see the familiar shape of Mikey Way emerging from the venue doors on the other side of the metal barrier. The venue security guy that Frank sent in oh - nearly two hours ago - is with him and Frank is more than a little satisfied to see that it looks like Mikey is giving him an earful.
Of course, Mikey stops frowning once he's in spitting distance of the fans, who are calling for him loudly now, pressed up against the barrier and reaching through the gaps for him. Mikey smiles at them and gives a wave, eyes scanning the crowd. Frank tries to find an empty spot to squeeze into, and when he can't he just jumps up and waves his arm over his head. Fuck being short, he'll be lucky if Mikey can even see him at this point.
Fans from the main line are starting to trickle around the corner now, and the cluster of kids at the back gate is getting thicker. Frank tries to call out to Mikey, but his voice is just one more in a chorus of fans calling the same name and he doesn't really want to have to fight his way to the front of a crowd just to get back inside.
He cranes his neck to try and see over the crowd, and between heads and flailing arms he can see Mikey's working his way down the bank of fans, smiling and being nice, signing things that are passed to him. He's flanked by the clueless venue security guy who's peering into the crowd like he actually wants to help Frank out now, and Frank can see Worm on Mikey's other side.
"Has anyone seen Frank?" Mikey calls out over the crowd. "My friend Frank's out here - you guys seen him? Frank?" That gets the kids stirred up and looking around, repeating Frank's name. Frank waves again and yells "Over here!" but it isn't until Em and Jen - who are somehow pressed up against the gate at the front - start yelling through the bars and pointing that Mikey even starts to head in the right direction.
Worm gives a yell and the crowd parts little, finally giving Frank the opportunity to push to the front. He gets to the gate and catches Mikey's relieved expression.
"Frank, what the fuck?" Mikey asks, reaching through the bars the grab Frank's hands.
"I just wanted a cigarette," Frank admits, embarrassed but still smiling. Mikey laughs, and even though Frank knows he's laughing at him, he can't help but laugh too. Worm ushers Frank down to one end of the sliding gate and they open it just far enough for Frank to squeeze through, both Worm and the venue guy keeping any other kids from slipping past.
Mikey pulls Frank into a hug the moment he's through the gate.
"I know, I know, I'm an idiot," Frank admits.
Mikey pulls Frank's pass out of his back pocket and puts it back around Frank's neck. "Don't leave it behind again, okay?"
"Not a lot of opportunity between now and tomorrow morning."
"Whatever, this isn't the last time you're gonna come on tour with me, is it?"
For a moment Mikey looks hellishly unsure, but it slips from his face when Frank says, "Course not! I can have all the glamour of the rockstar lifestyle without actually having to be a rockstar, right?"
"Whatever," Mikey says, "Go on back inside, you're fucking freezing. I should probably stay out and sign for a while."
Frank is pretty cold, but before he takes off back inside where it's warm and he's got papers to grade, he directs Mikey over to the barrier where Em and Jen are. "You should meet these two; they helped me get back inside."
It's worth it for the looks on their faces when Mikey says thanks, and that he owes them a favour. They're happy enough to collect in the form of early access to the show, and Frank can see them down in the front row, smushed up against the barrier and screaming their heads off the whole gig.
***
The guys are on fire that night. Frank perches on top of a road case side stage and watches, entranced. He can't help but mouth along to the words now and he knows all Mikey's stage moves by heart. Frank's so swept up in the show he might as well be there on stage himself, living it through Mikey. Mikey knows it too, and plays most of the set with an eye in Frank's direction, sending him smiles and nods.
Mikey heads straight for Frank's side when they come off stage before the encore. He catches Frank in a sweaty hug.
Frank pushes up on his toes to lock his elbows around Mikey's neck. "Fucking good show dude."
He pulls back and hands Mikey a bottle of water, which Mikey drinks half of without before coming up for air. Frank would be a liar if he said his eyes weren't drawn downward, tracking the movement of Mikey's Adam's apple as he swallows.
Mikey wipes his mouth of with the back of his hand. "Fuck, man, I can't believe you're going home tomorrow."
"Me neither," Frank says, a little breathless, like he's the one who was just onstage.
A stage hand calls time, and Frank tunes back into the crowd, who are chanting and clapping and calling for their band. "Better get back out there," Frank says, catching Mikey in a last hug that's all sweat and elbows before the guys head back out.
Bert crashes into Frank as he passes, and Frank swats at him. Bert turns around, points at Frank, grinning. "You better be ready, Frankie!"
"Ready for what?" Frank yells, but his voice is lost in the cacophony of the crowd.
He finds out two songs later, when the band's reached the end of the setlist but they don't leave the stage. Bert calls out to the teeming masses, "You want one more?" They scream back at him loud enough to make Frank's ears roar, but Bert just shakes his head, cupping a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you! Do you want one more?" Frank can't help laughing to himself when the crowd calls back even louder, but Bert just keeps acting like they're doing nothing. "I guess you don't, but fuck it - we'll do it anyway. Frank, get out here!"
Frank stops laughing at that and stares at Bert in confusion. Bert grins at Frank, his microphone still in his hand as he points at him, then twists his hand around to beckon him with one finger. Frank looks over to Mikey, who's already pulled his guitar off and is holding it outstretched, pointed at Frank.
Fuck. He better get his ass onstage.
He's not ready for the way the crowd cheer when he steps out of the wings into the open. On some level, his brain can compute that those cheers are for him but he still doesn't really believe it. Bert points at him, telling the crowd that Mikey's a slacker who needs his friends to fill in for him. It's all just echo in Frank's ears as he walks over to Mikey. The rest of the world blurs around Mikey's wide smile and his hands holding out his sparkly guitar.
"I can't believe you're springing this on me. I hate you," Frank shouts over the cheers.
"You love me," Mikey throws back, settling his guitar strap around Frank's shoulders, and Frank can't deny the statement so he doesn't talk at all. He knows he's smiling like a fucking idiot as Mikey adjust the strap so the guitar hangs just right. He never considered this could happen again, hadn't even hoped for it.
Mikey straightens the guitar and leans in to say loudly near Frank's ear, "Give 'em a show, Frankie." He nods to Bert and Frank scrambles to get his hands on the strings as Dan counts them in with claps of his drumsticks. He doesn't need to ask the song - of course it's Pretty Handsome Awkward and it's so obvious now that they were planning this because they never leave it off the setlist.
Frank gets lost in playing immediately. He turns to face the crowd this time, as his fingers fly and he drinks in the experience, committing it to memory. The screaming fans aren't terrifying this time, they're with him, they're screaming for him. The monitors feed the music back to him, clear and loud, the crowd noise layered over the top, and it's fucking magic. The first time he did this the nerves robbed him of all but a sense memory - this time he wants to ink it into his mind like a tattoo. He lets the music sweep him up, pull him around, throwing his body to the beat and the chords.
It isn't until he's spinning around that he sees that Mikey isn't side stage this time - he's sitting on his amp watching, fingers tapping in time to the beats, looking enthralled and proud. Frank's heart is too big for his chest, his own fingers are moving faster than he can track. The music fills him and spills out of him, pouring off the stage into the crowd and he could get addicted to this so easily.
The song ends too soon. Frank's breathless and sweating, his pulse pounding in his ears and chest, looking out into the sea of faces, just trying to process this moment. He can hear Bert talking to the crowd, thanking them for a good show, telling them goodnight. He knows it's over, but it doesn't compute. Suddenly Mikey is beside him, his bony arm winding around Frank's shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Frank clings to him, the guitar skewed awkwardly between them, and presses his smile into Mikey's shirt.
"I'll never forget this, Mikes," Frank tells him, no idea if Mikey can even hear him over the crowd, but Mikey squeezes Frank's shoulder so maybe he does.
Mikey straightens up, helping Frank get the guitar off and handed safely to a tech before dragging him downstage by the arm, to join Bert, Jepha, Quinn and Dan. They all link arms and bow. The audience screams their appreciation at them, ringing in Frank's ears. When he straightens up he catches sight of Em and Jen down the front. Em's mohawk is wilting and Jen's hair is plastered to her face with sweat, but they both look ecstatic. He sends them a wave and they clap and cheer up at him. Then he's being dragged off the stage by various hands, out of sight of the crowd and Mikey's arms are around him again, hugging him tight and Frank can't fathom not hugging back. He winds his arms around Mikey's neck, spinning them around until they're stumbling and laughing, riding the high of the show and the crowd and the noise.
Frank's still smiling when he leans back, seeing the same ecstatic beaming grin he knows he's wearing mirrored back at him on Mikey's face. It's pure instinct when he murmurs Mikey's name, the word dropping from his mouth as he leans up on tiptoe and kisses him.
Either Mikey's riding the same high as Frank or he wants it just as bad because there's no hesitation, not even a pause for breath. His mouth opens under Frank's and he presses closer, his hands slipping to Frank's shoulders, his fingers tight points of contact as he grips Frank through his damp shirt and kisses back like a motherfucker. There's no room in Frank's head for any doubts, any thoughts about why they shouldn't do this. It's right. It's time. It's fucking overdue.
Mikey makes a small noise that reverberates against Frank's lips and he pushes closer, making Frank stumble backwards until there's a roadcase against his back. Mikey kisses him up against it, lips firm and warm over Frank's, their tongues sliding together and it's all Frank can do to hold on, to slide a hand into Mikey's hair and hold him there, even as his other hand slips down to hang on to Mikey's waist.
Distantly he thinks he can hear the guys laughing at them, wolf-whistling, clapping, but Frank doesn't spare them a thought. He opens his mouth under Mikey's, strokes his tongue with his own. Mikey's hands slide down Frank's chest and around his waist to grab handfuls of Frank's ass. Frank can't think, he's burning up. He grabs a handful of Mikey's shirt, groaning into his mouth, pushing up on his toes, needing more, needing it all.
It isn't until he's hooked an ankle around the back of Mikey's thigh, trying to climb him, grind on him, that any sense of the outside world starts to penetrate his skull. He breaks the kiss, panting, pulling back just far enough that they're apart but sharing breath. Mikey's eyes are dazed and warm. His mouth is wet, loose, and Frank just wants it back on his. He leans in and takes it, fuck everything else, fuck talking, it can all wait. He's waited for this way too long.
"Frank." Mikey's voice is a wet whisper, forced out between kisses. "Frank, what are we doing?"
"I don't fucking know," Frank says, his voice rough and shot. He takes Mikey's mouth in a biting kiss. "But can we not stop?"
"Okay," Mikey says, his hand dragging upwards over Frank's ass. His fingertips slide into the waistband of Frank's jeans, warm points of contact on Frank's sweaty skin.
Mikey slips his hand up to cup Frank's face, holding their mouths apart a moment longer between kisses. "Probably not here though, yeah?"
Frank blinks and forces himself not to lean in for another kiss. "Huh?"
"Frank," Mikey says. His tone says it all as he glances to the side where Bert and Quinn are still watching them, not even trying to hide how entertained they are by it all.
Bert raises his hands, golf clapping. "Nice work guys, can we fucking go now?"
Frank blinks a few times. He's still pretty lost to the world. It still doesn't really compute that they're only side stage, that they've just put on a hell of a show for a bunch of roadies and techs. As much as he knows he might regret it later, at the moment he can't bring himself to care. He's got Mikey warm under his hands, still smiling at him, still looking like he'd kiss him up against the wall all over again. He can't think of anywhere he'd rather be.
Mikey's the one to pull back first, sliding his arm around Frank's shoulders and leading them both backstage, following behind the other guys. Frank gives a wave to their audience of crew as they pass. He's still not really on the planet. It's like his feet aren't even touching the ground. He's going to come down from this high eventually and maybe it'll be a crash, like the world's worst hangover, but right now he doesn't even care.
Right now he's got Mikey's arm around him and it's fucking hotel night.
***
There isn't any discussion at all back at the hotel about room assignments. Mikey takes two key cards and shoves them in his back pocket. Frank knows that Bert and the guys are laughing at them but he's so far from caring it doesn't even register on his radar. They were damn well behaved in the van on the way to the hotel and they continue to hold themselves in check through the now-familiar dance of check-in, mostly because Frank has a feeling if he even lets himself casually touch Mikey right now he won't be able to stop himself.
They're quiet in the elevator, and Mikey fumbles the key card twice when he tries to get the door open. He glances sideways at Frank and they share an embarrassed giggle. Closing the door feels somehow final, and Frank struggles for a moment with how to start. When they came off stage it just happened, he didn't even think about it, it was like two magnets being pulled together. Now, anything he does is deliberate, he can't write it off as a mistake, a lapse in judgement, anything.
They hover for a moment, just inside the door. Frank clenches his fingers closed and stretches them open again. Then Mikey says Frank's name, softly, his voice rough and lifted at the end like a question. Frank meets Mikey's eyes and he can see the same confusion, the same barely-held-in desire reflected back at him. It moves his feet the two steps closer into Mikey's space. It raises his hands to Mikey's face, until his fingers are on Mikey's cheek, gently guiding Mikey's head down for a kiss that feels fragile. Mikey's lips are light on his, and he tastes a little of cigarettes and sweat. Frank leans up, stroking the seam of Mikey's mouth with his tongue until he opens up and kisses Frank back.
They linger like that, long slow kisses, chests barely brushing and their bodies not touching anywhere else except for Frank's hand on Mikey cheek. It almost feels like high school, the way Frank's free hand dangles by his side, the way he wants to reach up and touch but he's not sure if he can - if he should.
Then Mikey's hand falls lightly on Frank's shoulder. His fingers slip down over Frank's chest to settle on Frank's waist, warm like a brand. Frank shudders a little, a vibration that runs down his body like a perfectly strummed chord. He grabs for Mikey's shoulder with his free hand, presses in closer, deepens the kiss. The throaty noise Mikey makes is so worth it. His tongue strokes into Frank's mouth, then he presses Frank back against the door, just getting all in there. His kisses get rougher, firmer, biting lightly at Frank's bottom lip. Frank groans and pushes up against Mikey, wanting to get closer, to feel more, for their bodies to merge.
Frank hooks his leg up over Mikey's, his foot brushing the back of Mikey's thigh. God, he wants to climb him, and Mikey must read his mind because he tucks his hand under Frank's knee and lifts, until Frank's off the floor and their groins are aligned. Mikey moans into his mouth and grinds on him, his tongue painting over Frank's lips and fuck, it's good. So good.
Mikey eases closer, pushing his tongue into Frank's mouth as he gets a grip on Frank's ass with his free hand, rubbing up against him. Frank can feel how hard they both are through two layers of denim. He lets out a strangled noise, hooking his other leg up around Mikey's waist, so he's wedged between the door and Mikey's body.
It feels awesome right up until Mikey stumbles, breaking the kiss and leaning an arm on the door. "You're fucking heavy, Frankie."
"Wow, you say the sweetest things."
Mikey narrows his eyes and leans in to bite Frank's lower lip in retaliation. It doesn't really work as a punishment because it just leads to more wet, needy kisses, until Frank comes up for air, panting. "The fuck are we doing?"
He means their ridiculous position, but Mikey must take it a different way. "I have no idea, but can we keep doing it?" He wobbles a little, nearly dropping Frank.
Frank yelps and grabs Mikey's shoulders so he doesn't hit the floor, barking out a short, startled laugh. "There's a bed, you know."
"Yeah, there is." Mikey punctuates the statement with a wet kiss. His eyes are dark and his mouth looks like sex. "We should probably use it."
"You have the best ideas, Mikeyway."
"Hold on," is the only warning Frank gets before Mikey steps back from the door, stumbling across the floor in an ungainly fashion with Frank still hanging onto him for dear life. He dumps Frank on the bed with no fanfare at all, bending to pull off his shoes before crawling onto the bed to straddle him.
He presses Frank down into the mattress, a delicious weight and Frank rolls his hips up, watching the way the movement makes Mikey shift in his lap, his head tilting forward and hair flopping into his eyes as he groans and rocks down against Frank.
Sure, Frank's seen Mikey make out with people, mostly not on purpose. But seeing Mikey like this, all undone and high on sex, to have his fuck-me eyes directed at Frank - it's a side of Mikey he's only ever glimpsed before, and he had no idea it would undo him so thoroughly.
"Mikey," Frank pants, his voice sounding breathless and pathetically needy. He reaches for Mikey's belt, clumsy fingers trying to pull it open, and Mikey takes the cue to start on Frank's. Mikey's jeans are button-fly, because he's apparently some kind of masochist, so by the time Frank gets them open Mikey's already sliding a hand into Frank's jeans, his long fingers shaping Frank's cock through his underwear. Frank can't help squirming, nearly unseating Mikey and totally losing where he's at with getting Mikey's pants open.
Mikey curls down over him, kissing him slow and easy as he squeezes Frank's cock through the worn-soft cotton of his briefs. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead to Frank's, shaking his head a little. "I can't believe we're doing this. After all this time."
"I can believe it," Frank admits. "I just can't believe it took us so long."
"Took you so long," Mikey says, his voice hot on Frank's lips. "You could've had me years ago."
"It was nice of you to tell me," Frank says, finally getting the last stubborn button open and his hand into Mikey's jeans. "Imagine how many blowjobs you've missed out on." He squeezes Mikey's dick, making Mikey gasp in a breath. He's hard in Frank's hand, the cotton of his underwear damp with precome. Mikey twitches over Frank, mouth working soundlessly. Frank knows he's trying to come up with a clever reply, but Frank keeps teasing, stealing away any words with the movement of his hand until the only sound that leaks from Mikey's mouth is a breathy moan. He rocks down against Frank's hand, writhing sinuously, and he's just so fucking gorgeous to watch.
Mikey either can't come up with anything or he gives up trying because he tilts his head to take Frank's mouth instead. Frank's happy to go with it, hooking his free arm around Mikey's neck and kissing back, getting into it - mouths, tongues, teeth. He swallows the delicious noises Mikey makes against his lips as he moves his hand. Mikey seems to remember his own hand, still loosely gripping Frank's dick and he starts to move it again, firm knowing strokes that have Frank making his own noises into their joined mouths.
It's long moments of bliss and agony. Frank wants so much more, wants to suck Mikey off and be sucked off, to fuck and be fucked, but he can't make himself move from this spot, can't even fathom how to get his clothes off. He can't give up Mikey's mouth for anything.
Mikey's the one who breaks it, panting against Frank's lips. "That stuff about blow jobs, was that an offer?" He looks down at Frank, the question held in the curve of one raised eyebrow - a patented Mikeyway expression. He leans down again, licking across Frank's lower lip.
Frank's brain is barely able to form words, let alone clever ones, so he opts for honesty. "You want it to be?" His voice is shot, gravelly and rough.
"Hell yeah," Mikey says, giving Frank's cock a few fast strokes. Frank stutters out a groan. Mikey writhes down against him, skin warm and slick everywhere their bodies touch. Frank loses what scrap of resolve he might have once had. He's desperate for anything, anything Mikey wants.
It's a cool shock when Mikey rolls off him, and Frank doesn't manage to swallow the needy whine that escapes his lips at the loss of contact. It takes a moment for Frank to realise Mikey's rolled on to his back so he can wriggle out of his stupidly tight jeans, and an even longer moment for Frank to figure out he should probably follow suit. He gets his shirt off, but before he can slide his shoes off, Mikey's naked and Frank forgets about getting undressed, just needing to get his hands on Mikey - now.
Mikey's stretched out on the bed, all naked skin and Frank can't drink him in fast enough. Mikey's more filled out now than he once was, lean muscle where once it was just skin stretched over bone. His arms are little darker than his shoulders and chest, and the light hairs scattered over his chest are almost invisible, flaring golden where they catch the light of the bedside lamp. Frank's hands follow the trail of his eyes, tracing his fingertips up Mikey's arms, over his shoulders, down his chest.
Mikey moves under his hands, slow and languid, pushing into Frank's touch. His eyes are at half mast, watching Frank with a heat that burns Frank up from the inside. Frank traces his hands lower, around Mikey's belly button, following the line of hair that gets darker as it leads down to his cock. Frank stops a moment to take that in, really look at it. He might have caught glimpses of Mikey naked over their years together, but he's never really let himself look. He does now. Mikey's cock is long and elegant, like his fingers. He's hard, straining up from the nest of dark blond curls, shiny at the tip with precome. Frank's mouth waters and he lowers his head.
He traces his tongue up the side of Mikey's shaft, avoiding the head to lick back down the other side. It's their first time, he wants to make it last, make it good. Mikey makes a throaty noise somewhere between desire and frustration. Frank smiles to himself, and does it again. Mikey paws at his shoulder, gropes up Frank's neck to catch in his hair.
"Frank, c'mon. Don't tease."
Frank giggles. Mikey knows better than to make demands; it only makes Frank want to do the exact opposite. He stops licking Mikey's dick altogether, turning his head to bite lightly at the top of Mikey's thigh. Mikey makes a wounded noise, his fingers tightening in Frank's hair, trying to direct his head back where he wants it. Frank giggles again, ducking his head out of Mikey's grip and leaning up over him.
"Are those the best moves you've got, Mikey? I thought you were a rockstar," he teases.
"Oh, I've got moves." Mikey isn't even sulking; Frank has to work this harder. He barely finishes the thought when Mikey flips him, using a totally unfair WWE move Frank never did get around to learning. Except clearly, Mikey's decided to use his powers for good instead of evil. Before Frank's even managed to catch a breath, Mikey yanks his jeans down and ducks his head to take Frank in his mouth, no warning, no hesitation. He goes for it - hard and fast, sliding his mouth to the base of Frank's dick and back up again - wet, sucking, gorgeous.
Oh fuck, it's so good - too good. Frank's seeing stars, heat building low in his belly, threatening to send him off way too soon. Frank has to catch Mikey by the hair, cup his chin, hold him there.
"Fuck, Mikey, you have to, I'm gonna-" he stutters out. Mikey doesn't move his head again, lets Frank hold him there, still swirling his tongue around the head of Frank's dick, making him whimper.
When he finally pulls off he's smirking like he knows he's a total asshole and - worse - that he's proud of it. "What were you saying about moves?"
Frank wants to play, he does. He wants to throw something back at Mikey, to wrestle him into submission, to win, but he can't right now. He's balancing on a knife's edge and he just, he just wants.
"You have to fuck me," he says, panting and breathless, not enough brain cells left to even feel embarrassed about it. He grabs at Mikey's hip, feeling the hard jut of his hipbone under his fingers, pulling Mikey forwards. "Now, Mikes, please."
This is Mikey's cue to tease him some more, to demand a prize, to make Frank admit he's lost, that Mikey is the master. But when Frank focuses on Mikey's face there's nothing in his expression but naked desire. His colour's high and he's looking at Frank like he's everything he could ever want, like Frank's just uttered the hottest words he's ever heard.
"You sure?" he asks. His hands are already tightening where they lie on Frank's hips, squeezing hard, and Frank presses up into the touch.
"Yes. Yes, please, yes." Frank knows he's babbling, but he can't help it. Mikey's with him though, Mikey's just fucking awesome, because he's already in motion, dragging Frank's jeans down and off, taking his shoes too. He vanishes from Frank's eyesight for a moment, but when he comes back there's a shine of foil in his hands as he rips open a condom. Frank knows he should do more, he should do something, but all he can do is watch, stomach trembling excitedly, as Mikey rolls it on his dick.
Mikey leans over him then, taking his mouth in a kiss that Frank's desperate for. Mikey does have moves. Though Frank never sees a lube bottle he knows there is one, because Mikey's fingers are sliding slick against his ass, fingertips gentle as they feel him out. Frank groans affirmative noises into their kiss and grinds down on Mikey's hand, everything in his movements saying "yes, more, yes".
Mikey kisses him again, sucking on his tongue as he presses a fingertip against Frank's hole. Frank pushes down against it, wanting Mikey inside him already. He gropes between their bodies, finding Mikey's sheathed cock and stroking it, his fingers sliding easily on the slippery latex. It pulls a groan from Mikey, his probing finger losing rhythm for a moment, then sliding out.
Frank breaks the kiss on a whimper. Mikey's face hovers above his, their lips a breath apart as two of Mikey's fingertips press at Frank's entrance. "Tell me if you need me to stop," Mikey whispers, his voice low, throaty, gorgeous. Frank nods, already knowing he won't need to. Fuck, he's so ready.
Two fingers is barely a stretch. It's nowhere near enough but Frank still rocks down against it, stroking Mikey's dick in time with his own staccato movements. Frank's own dick is trapped between their bodies, wet with precome, smearing on their bellies. He pumps Mikey's cock, harder, faster, until Mikey catches his wrist in a tight grip. "You've got to-" Mikey breaks off, panting, "I can't."
"Fuck me, already then," Frank demands, wriggling up against him.
"God, you're so bossy," Mikey complains, but there's no venom in it. He slides his fingers out, then he's lifting and spreading Frank's legs, leaning up over him, one hand still low and tight on his dick. "Like this?" he asks, like he hasn't already decided, and it's not like Frank's going to want to change position now, now when they're this close and he's fucking dying for it already.
"Oh my fucking god, will you just do it-?" The words choke off on Frank's lips as Mikey leans that little bit lower, raises Frank's ass that little bit higher, and then his dick is pressing at Frank's opening, hard, hot, ready and Frank could fucking faint from how good it is. He growls in his throat, gripping Mikey's hips, pulling at them, trying to urge Mikey inside, but Mikey's set on moving at his own pace. Which is slow - too slow.
"Mikey, fuck. Mikey, c'mon." Frank's voice is thready and desperate. Still Mikey resists any urge to hurry, leaning heavily over Frank on one elbow as he inches in. Frank bites his lip and pushes down with his ass, feeling the slow stretch as Mikey fills him up, until he's balls-deep in Frank.
Frank sighs,. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."
When he manages to pry his eyes open, Mikey's looking down at him, his mouth pulled up in a smile like Frank's the most amusing thing he's ever seen. "You talk a lot."
"You say that like it's a surprise," Frank answers, distracted. Most of his brain's still in his dick but he's with it enough to know Mikey should know this better than anyone. More importantly, though, they should get on with the fucking. "C'mon Mikey, just-"
The word chokes off because Mikey does. He pulls out and shoves back in again, and again, each movement pulling a whimper from Frank. Mikey brushes his lips across Frank's, whispering "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Frank echoes, on a long drawn-out breath, as he pushes back to meet Mikey's thrusts. His toes curl and he grabs onto Mikey's shoulders, riding him as much as he can while on his back. There's a stretch through the back of his legs where they're pressed back by Mikey's arms, but it's good, he can take it, he's not moving from this position for anything.
"Oh fuck, Frankie. Oh fuck." Mikey pants, moving faster, like he can't help himself, can't get enough. He covers Frank's mouth in a desperate, sucking kiss, licking into his mouth, groaning. Frank gropes between their bodies because his dick's so hard he might explode, fuck, he needs to touch. Mikey gets there first and fits long fingers around Frank's dick, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Frank's eyes flutter closed and he sucks hard on Mikey's lips as he shoves his ass back against Mikey's hips.
There's only breath, the scent of sweat, the slick sounds of their moves, the slaps of flesh hitting flesh. Frank gives himself up to it, breaking the kiss to stutter out broken noises, every cell in his body buzzing. He's so ready to break.
Mikey comes first, his movements blurring, shoving into Frank hard and fast. His hand on Frank's dick falters and he chokes out a loud, strangled noise. Frank watches as his eyes crease shut and his mouth falls loose as his dick pulses in Frank's ass. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He holds tight to Mikey as he shakes through it, his head dropping forwards like a puppet with cut strings, tucking his face into Frank's neck. Frank wraps his arms around Mikey's sweaty back, breathless, almost as high as if he'd come himself.
Mikey lies boneless, his hitching breaths painting a cool path down Frank's neck. Frank strokes his fingers down Mikey's spine as he waits for his breathing to even out. His own dick aches between them, reminding him insistently that he hasn't come yet. Mikey shifts, and the movement brushes his belly against the tip of Frank's dick. Frank can't contain the groan fast enough, but it's okay, Mikey's already moving, already firming his grip on Frank's dick, leaning up so he can watch Frank's face as he jerks him off.
His dick's still in Frank's ass - softening a little but still there - and his fingers are fucking perfect, hard calluses rubbing up the sensitive underside of Frank's cock. Frank can't help but writhe down against Mikey's touch, moaning and gasping for breath. When he can focus his eyes all the can see is Mikey's face, watching him, his eyes dark and intense. It undoes something in his chest to see him looking like that.
It's so intimate, like being on show, like letting Mikey look into his soul while he does this. It's intense, but it's not scary - if there's anyone Frank trusts to see him like this, to see everything of himself, it's got to be Mikey.
Mikey switches his grip, getting his thumb under the head of Frank's dick on every upstroke, and Frank's spine melts. He groans, loud and long, then starts chanting, "Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Mikey, that's it, that's it, don't stop, oh god."
Mikey doesn't stop. He speeds his hand up and lowers his head to attack Frank's mouth, kissing him hard and messy, chasing his mouth as Frank wriggles under him, writhes up into him, moaning and whimpering, utterly lost to himself. Mikey breaks the kiss with a whispered, "Come on, Frankie," and that's all it takes to tip Frank over the edge. One more stroke from Mikey's hand and he's gone, whimpering loudly, bucking and writhing under Mikey as his dick pulses and shoots all over Frank's belly and Mikey's hand. Frank's heart pounds in his ears as Mikey strokes him down from it, riding out every last sensation. He feels amazing, alive, every cell buzzing.
He blinks dazedly at the ceiling as Mikey pulls out gently, disappearing off the bed to dump the condom. He's back before Frank can complain, flopping down beside him hard enough to make Frank bounce on the mattress. Frank rolls onto his side, flopping an arm over Mikey's chest and resting his head on Mikey's shoulder. It's really fucking bony.
"You make a shitty pillow." he complains, the words muffled into Mikey's skin.
"You make shitty pillow talk," Mikey says, but he lifts Frank's head up and slides a pillow underneath, a soft layer between his shoulder and Frank's face.
"Thanks," Frank mutters into the pillow. His eyelids are already heavy. They should get under the covers before the air conditioning makes them cold. He really doesn't want to move though.
Mikey lays a warm hand over the back of Frank's arm where it lies across his chest. He traces his fingertips up Frank's skin, sweeping upwards to follow the lines the lines of ink around Frank's upper arms. The tattoos that betray Frank's punk rock past, the ones he has to wear long sleeves to cover even when the weather's too warm, but that he has never once regretted. They're part of him, part of his past as much as Mikey is.
The combination of Mikey's gently stroking fingers and the cool air in the room gives Frank goosebumps. He shivers and Mikey reaches out to the empty side of the bed, grabbing hold of the coverlet and flipping the part they're not lying on over the top of them. Frank hums, "Mmmm, better," his voice sounding about two octaves lower than usual, and snuggles in.
His eyes are closed and he's nodding off when Mikey's fingers skate through his hair. "We gonna talk about this?" he asks, gently.
Frank makes a face, pressing in closer to Mikey and muttering, "Mmmph. Tomorrow." He pats Mikey's arm clumsily. "Sleep now, Mikeyway."
They do.
***
Frank hasn't woken up with that 'just got laid' feeling in a long time. God, he's missed it. He's extra relaxed and floppy, with aches in all the right places. He's also got a warm Mikeyway wrapped around him like a blanket, his chest pressed to Frank's back, his arm heavy across Frank's chest, his breath blowing warm across the back of Frank's neck. From the cadence of his breathing - slow and even - he's still asleep.
Frank opens his eyes, letting the unfamiliar hotel room slide slowly into focus. He and Mikey had sex last night. They fucked, and it was hot and awesome. He rolls the thought around in his head, but no matter how many ways he looks at it, he can't bring himself to be worried or regret what happened. He knows he should be freaking out, at least a little. He tries to remember all the cons he mentioned to Ray on the phone when he was trying to talk himself out of this, and while he can recall what most of them were, the fear and worry attached to them doesn't feel anywhere near as strong now.
He slides his hand up, covering Mikey's where it lies across on his chest. He slides their fingers together in a loose grip and wriggles backward into Mikey's warmth. Mikey stirs a little, making a low noise, and his arm tightens around Frank even in his sleep. Frank doesn't try to fight the goofy grin that pulls at his lips in response to that. He just squeezes Mikey's hand and snuggles in.
Of course, Frank is still only human, and he's awake, and he has a naked Mikeyway and probably only a few hours left to make use of that. So he maybe wriggles around a little more than necessary, until he hears Mikey's breathing hitch and he shifts behind him, making a low noise is his throat as he wakes.
"Huh," is the first word out of Mikey's mouth, low and thick with sleep. Frank rolls onto his back so he can see Mikey's face. His eyes are all sleepy and he has a crease on his cheek from the pillow. His hair is tangled up, flat on one side and rumpled on the other. In the soft light leaking through the drawn curtains he looks flawless and beautiful.
"Huh, what?" Frank asks, not even bothering to try not to stare.
Mikey blinks at him slowly, glancing down between their bodies then tracing his gaze back up Frank's torso, over his chest, to meet his eyes. "This actually happened," Mikey says, following his eyes with his hand, warm fingers sliding up Frank's chest, lingering over Frank's heart.
"Mmmm, yeah it did," Frank says, shifting closer to Mikey, until their bodies are flush and he can feel Mikey's dick heavy against his thigh.
Mikey traces a circle around the flames on Frank's chest, watching his own fingers, and says, "So, are we gonna talk about this now?"
Frank's mouth tugs down at the side. He doesn't want to talk now. He's warm and relaxed and already half hard from Mikey just being this close. "We can talk if you want," he says, his tone teasing as he presses up against Mikey. He hooks an arm around Mikey's shoulder and flips them over so Mikey's on his back. It's not quite as ninja a move as when Mikey does it, but he thinks he pulls it off. "Or, you know, I still owe you a blow job."
Mikey's eyes go dark. Frank doesn't even wait for a reply. He slides downward, painting a trail down Mikey's chest with his tongue. Mikey's hands are in his hair before Frank even gets to crotch level, loosely gripping. He makes a noise in his throat, low and growly, that makes Frank dick jump.
"Mmmm, I guess we can always talk later." Mikey's fingers flex in Frank's hair and Frank ducks his head, taking the head of Mikey's cock in his mouth and sucking lightly, swirling his tongue around to get it nice and wet. His fingers trail down Frank's face, over his hollowed cheeks as Frank dips his head lower, taking more of him in. Mikey moans appreciatively, his hips rocking up a little into Frank's mouth. "But fuck, Frankie, your flight. You're leaving soon, we're not gonna have time."
Frank pulls off, jacking Mikey's dick, his fingers sliding smoothly over slick skin. "I hear phones are good for talking, but they're shit for blowjobs."
"Point," Mikey grunts, then Frank's on him again, his palms pressed flat over Mikey's hips as he takes him deep, right to the back of his throat. Mikey makes a beautiful, hungry noise and Frank squirms, rubbing his dick on the mattress, needing some kind of contact. Mikey's fingers flex in his hair and Frank works him slow and steady, sucking and licking until Mikey's hips push up off the bed. Frank works with that, moving his mouth in counter to Mikey's rocking hips and it isn't long before the hold Mikey has in his hair gets tighter, just an edge of pain.
Frank goes faster, losing himself in what he's doing until it's all just the musky scent of Mikey all around him, the salty-bitter taste of him in his mouth. He's making it good, pulling the most gorgeous noises he can from Mikey. Mikey tugs at his hair and says, in a desperate whisper, "Frank, Frankie, I'm gonna." Frank pulls up just enough that he doesn't choke when Mikey comes, so he can swallow it down, milk him through it as Mikey's dick throbs against his lips.
Frank's just as breathless as Mikey by the end, mouth stretched and used in that oh so good way. He crawls up to flop beside Mikey, both of them breathing hard.
Mikey's a mess, sweaty and flushed, still panting a little. He looks beautiful. He shoots Frank a sloppy smile, then leans in kiss him, messy and wet, no doubt tasting himself on Frank's tongue. That thought is hot enough to make Frank squirm closer, rubbing up against Mikey and letting his hard cock press against Mikey's thigh. Mikey takes the hint and reaches down to fit his hand around him, stroking him off slowly as they continue to kiss, licking inside each other's mouths.
Frank growls in his throat and tries to get closer, but Mikey pushes him onto his back instead. Frank lets out a startled laugh which gets muffled against Mikey's mouth when he kisses him again, just long enough to tease more than it satisfies. Mikey breaks it with a wicked smile before sliding down the bed, every movement designed to maximise skin to skin contact. Frank catches a breath at the first brush of Mikey's lips across his lower belly. He licks his way down, following the trail of hair the leads from Frank's belly button to his dick and blowing lightly over the wet skin, making Frank shiver and writhe on the bed. Mikey's hands close firmly over Frank's hips, holding him in place as he lowers his head to lick at the tip of Frank's cock, where it's already wet and leaking with Frank's need.
Mikey doesn't tease, and Frank chokes out a startled gasp as his cock is enveloped in wet heat. Mikey sucks down, wrapping his hand around the base of Frank's dick, jerking him as he sucks, his lips meeting his fingers on each stroke. It feels amazing and Frank falls into it, closes his eyes and just feels it. "Mikey, fuck. Fuck, Mikey, your mouth."
Mikey hums around Frank's dick, making every sensation that much more intense. He slides his free hand under Frank's ass, rolling his balls in his fingers until Frank's whimpering, startled desperate noises, already so close to the edge. Frank grips the sheets, tilting his head down, wanting to see Mikey doing this. The sight itself nearly melts his brain. Mikey's eyes are closed, his expression focused and zen, his fingers working smooth over Frank's dick as he sucks. Frank's eyes get caught watching the tips of Mikey's blond bangs brush over his belly, shifting strands making patterns over his inked swallows.
Frank has to reach down and touch his fingers to Mikey's. cheek. Mikey opens his eyes and Frank nearly forgets to breathe at their dark intensity. Frank hiccups out a slightly hysterical noise. It's just so surreal that this is Mikey. Mikey who he's known forever, Mikey of the gangly knees and messy hair, Mikey who knows him inside out. Ten years ago he'd never have thought he'd have Mikey's lips around his dick one day.
"Mikey," he groans, not sure what he wants to say, but he keeps saying it, chanting Mikey's name on repeat, his hips thrusting, his torso curling over as he gets closer, closer.
Mikey pulls off at the last moment, jerking Frank through it as his cock spasms and he comes. Mikey lowers his head, letting it hit his chin, turning his head so it swipes over his cheek. If Frank hadn't just come he'd come all over again from just seeing that. He's flying somewhere five feet above the bed, his heart thumping like a kick drum and Mikey looks incredible - beautiful, debauched, sinful.
Frank grabs Mikey under his arms, pulling him up until he's a sweaty blanket all over Frank's body. He arches up off the bed to lick a trail up Mikey neck, over the line of his chin, across his cheek, tasting his own release bitter on his tongue.
"Fuck, Mikes. That was amazing," he whispers. He licks his lips and kisses Mikey's, slow and deep. Mikey kisses back, fisting a hand in Frank's hair, his other hand on Frank's chest, warm and heavy over his heart. Frank could do this forever, and he does make a good try of it, but they're interrupted by a pounding on the door, Brian's muffled voice reminding them that Mikey's bus call is imminent and Frank has to be at the airport soon.
Frank releases Mikey's mouth reluctantly. There's a long moment where all they do is breathe, and Frank struggles through his post-orgasm haze to find the right words to say. They are beyond his reach, apparently, but he speaks anyway. "You're gonna call me, right? So we can have that conversation we traded for blowjobs?"
It makes Mikey smile, wide and crooked, eyes crinkling a little at the sides. "Yeah," he breathes. "We'll talk. About... this." His fingers flex a little, pressing his palm firmer over Frank's heart. His smile falters a little, and Frank leans up, laying a kiss over it, pushing into it as much as he can, how much he wants this, Mikey and him, together.
Mikey's the one to break it, pushing Frank away, breathless. "Brian wasn't kidding, dude, we've really gotta-"
"Yeah, I know." Frank doesn't want to. Really doesn't want to, but there's no answer for it. He's pushed his flight back as far as it can go, he'll barely get back without taking sick days at this rate. Already, he'll be grading the whole flight back. He takes another long look at Mikey, eyes tracing from where his feet are tangled in the sheets, up his lean body to where he's watching Frank right back. He doesn't lean in for one more kiss because he knows it'll become two. He makes himself wriggle out from under Mikey and rolls off the bed. "Think I've got time for a shower?"
"I doubt it." Mikey shrugs.
"You're not going to have one either way, are you?"
"Nope."
Frank smothers a laugh into his hand and heads for the bathroom. He can at least brush his teeth.
When he steps back into the hotel room after washing his face and giving himself a quick wipedown, Mikey's already dressed. Frank takes a moment to mourn the sudden lack of naked skin, trying not to think about how long it'll be before he gets to see it all again. "You're not even going to wash your face?" Frank asks, catching Mikey's chin with his thumb, remembering, and his voice drops an octave lower. "I came all over you."
"Maybe I like it," Mikey says, and he's not even joking.
Blood shoots to Frank's dick so fast he nearly swoons. "Fuck, Mikes," he mutters. The words get muffled as he kisses Mikey hard, pressing up close, his naked body flush against Mikey's, denim rough against his dick. They share a few more desperate biting kisses before the door bangs again and they break apart reluctantly, out of time.
Mikey can't come to the airport with him, so they say their goodbyes in the hotel parking lot, in front of the waiting tour bus. It's too out in the open to really do anything, but Mikey pushes Frank onto the bus, kissing him in the scant cover of the stairwell, at eye level for once because Frank's standing on a higher step.
Frank breaks the kiss, hands clinging to Mikey's shoulders as he says, "Don't forget about me, now." It sounds pathetic to his own ears and he bites his lip to swallow more words down.
"Not a chance," Mikey says, linking their fingers and squeezing. "You and me, right?"
Frank nods sharply. "Yeah. Fuck everybody else."
***
When Frank gets off the flight, the first thing he does is check his phone for messages. There aren't any, but that doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Sometimes it takes a little while for his phone to find a network, and even though his voicemail usually gives a text message notification, it's possible there's a delay in delivery. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened. Plus there's always a chance Mikey actually paid attention to what times Frank would be in transit and decided there was no point in calling while Frank was still in the air.
He dials his voicemail anyway, just in case, and gets a cheerful message from the automated robot woman that he has no new messages. He shakes it off. He's not worried. He should get to baggage claim anyway.
He hasn't bothered to arrange for anyone to pick him up from the airport, so once he has his bag he makes for the exit, following the signs to the taxis. There's a long line, and he waits in it, feeling itchy and unsettled. It's weird being by himself after a couple of weeks of always moving in a pack, always being herded. There's no one talking to him, no one bothering him, no one by his side. It feels wrong. He puts it down to a post-tour comedown and pulls out his phone to distract himself. No new messages, but a small number of emails. Three are to do with work and two are notifications of upcoming shows at a couple of local venues he's on mailing lists for. None are from Mikey.
Without really thinking about it, he taps the symbol for text messages, scrolling down to find the last text Mikey sent him. It's from the day before, prior to the gig, Mikey asking Frank to grab him some cigarettes on a run to the store. It feels like a million years ago, already.
He starts to tap out a message, just a "hey, landed, not dead" kind of thing, but he stops himself before he presses send. He should probably wait for Mikey to text first. Being back on the ground in Jersey and by himself again, it all feels so far away, like it happened on another planet. He puts his phone away, resolute. It's cool, it'll feel less weird when he's heard from Mikey. Anyway, that next cab is his.
The house is dark and smells stale and closed up when he gets home. The silence is overwhelming. He puts up with it for as long as he can - which is about as long as it takes him to dump his bags and dig out his laundry - before he goes through and turns on every light in the house, blindly hitting play on the stereo as he passes it by. He nearly drops the handful of clothes under his arm when the music assaults his ear. Of course, the last CD he played before he left was The Used and now they're blasting from his speakers. If this were a movie it would be Pretty Handsome Awkward but it's real life, so it's a different track. It would be a weird overreaction to turn it off.
It would also be a weird overreaction to feel like he can't turn it off without it meaning something deeper, he reasons, and puts on Black Flag instead. He piles the couch with paperwork and settles in, Rollins growling around him as he rushes through the last of his preparations. He's lost in lesson plans when the phone rings, startling him and he jumps for it, not even checking the caller ID first.
"Hello?"
"Hey Frank, are you back?" It's Ray, of course it's Ray. Frank glances at the clock and subtracts one - Mikey would be at a show right now, it makes sense that it's not him.
"Yeah, I'm back," Frank says, groping across the couch for the remote to turn down the Black Flag a little. "Got in a few hours ago."
"So, how was it? I heard you got up onstage and played a couple of times. Must have been rad."
Frank laughs, remembering how shit-scared he was to get up the first time, the rush of being out there, the sea of screaming faces. "It was pretty rad."
"How's Mikey doing?"
Frank fights down another wave of memories at Mikey's name, sweat-slick skin, Mikey's eyes fixed on him, intense as he bottomed out inside him. Frank coughs a little to clear his throat before answering, glad Ray can't see his face. "He's good, he's doing really well. Seems to be handling the rockstar shit okay."
"So was it all parties, chicks, drugs and booze?"
"Far from it, dude." All Frank can picture in his head is how many afternoons they spent in dressing rooms, Jeph with his nose in a book with Bert and Quinn playing sudden death solitaire while Mikey read out amusing entries on the Texts From Last Night website. "They're not exactly party animals."
"More just rock n' roll then, not so much the sex and the drugs."
"Well, not so much the drugs," Frank hedges,"I can't really speak for the sex, well, not for everyone in the band..." Frank trails off, having said too much already.
"Holy shit, Frank, don't tell me you actually grew a pair? You and Mikey boned?"
"That's such a sweet way of putting it, Ray," Frank snaps in his most cutting tone, but Ray's not even listening. He's calling out to Spencer, saying, "You were right, baby, they totally boned."
"You and Spencer were taking bets on this?"
"Um, not like money-bets. Just, you know, playing Devil's Advocate." Ray says, his voice too hurried. Frank's pretty sure he can hear Spencer in the background saying something that sounds suspiciously like "You owe me twenty bucks," before Ray shushes him. "Are you guys, like, a thing now?"
"A thing?"
"A couple? Dating? Something?"
Frank rubs a hand over his face, suddenly tired. "I should know the answer to this, shouldn't I?"
"You don't?" Ray asks, sounding genuinely worried.
"Not really." Frank shifts on the couch, moving his papers into neater piles. "We haven't really had a chance to talk about it since it happened."
There's a short pause before Ray says, "You will, though, right?"
"If he ever calls me," Frank says, then immediately wants to take it back. "Oh god, if I ever say something like that again I want you to punch me in the face."
"Okay, but I'm going to remind you that you told me to do it beforehand."
"Whatever." Frank waves the thought away. He waves all the thoughts away. Mikey will call when he can and Frank is not gonna turn into a giant girl about it either way.
"You found a rhythm guitarist yet?" Frank asks, deliberately switching conversation gears. It takes a moment for Ray to catch up with him, but he does, and slips right back into familiar territory.
"We've auditioned a couple of guys, but no one as charming as you." Frank waits, already knowing the next part. "Why don't you just come to a rehearsal? No strings, just see how it feels. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy being onstage again, I saw the videos."
"Oh god, you saw them too?" Frank makes a mental note to check YouTube later. He should know what he's up for if any of his students get wise to this.
"Sure did, Gerard told me. Come on, just one rehearsal, then you can tell me to fuck off and I promise I'll drop it."
Frank hesitates for just a moment before he says, "You're a fucking sweet talker, Ray Toro."
"Is that a yes?" Ray asks, his voice already pitching up in excitement.
Frank grins into his handset and says, "Yeah Ray, that's a yes. To a one off rehearsal and then you leave me alone."
"Sure, Frank. Promise," Ray answers, but the smile in his voice gives him away. He thinks he's already got Frank, now.
The truth is, he probably does.
***
Next
Previous
***
The first sign that Frank might actually get back inside is a shriek, followed by hushed whisperings and a few people calling out, "Mikey! Mikey, over here!"
When Frank looks up from the gutter he's sitting in, like some kind of homeless person, he can see the familiar shape of Mikey Way emerging from the venue doors on the other side of the metal barrier. The venue security guy that Frank sent in oh - nearly two hours ago - is with him and Frank is more than a little satisfied to see that it looks like Mikey is giving him an earful.
Of course, Mikey stops frowning once he's in spitting distance of the fans, who are calling for him loudly now, pressed up against the barrier and reaching through the gaps for him. Mikey smiles at them and gives a wave, eyes scanning the crowd. Frank tries to find an empty spot to squeeze into, and when he can't he just jumps up and waves his arm over his head. Fuck being short, he'll be lucky if Mikey can even see him at this point.
Fans from the main line are starting to trickle around the corner now, and the cluster of kids at the back gate is getting thicker. Frank tries to call out to Mikey, but his voice is just one more in a chorus of fans calling the same name and he doesn't really want to have to fight his way to the front of a crowd just to get back inside.
He cranes his neck to try and see over the crowd, and between heads and flailing arms he can see Mikey's working his way down the bank of fans, smiling and being nice, signing things that are passed to him. He's flanked by the clueless venue security guy who's peering into the crowd like he actually wants to help Frank out now, and Frank can see Worm on Mikey's other side.
"Has anyone seen Frank?" Mikey calls out over the crowd. "My friend Frank's out here - you guys seen him? Frank?" That gets the kids stirred up and looking around, repeating Frank's name. Frank waves again and yells "Over here!" but it isn't until Em and Jen - who are somehow pressed up against the gate at the front - start yelling through the bars and pointing that Mikey even starts to head in the right direction.
Worm gives a yell and the crowd parts little, finally giving Frank the opportunity to push to the front. He gets to the gate and catches Mikey's relieved expression.
"Frank, what the fuck?" Mikey asks, reaching through the bars the grab Frank's hands.
"I just wanted a cigarette," Frank admits, embarrassed but still smiling. Mikey laughs, and even though Frank knows he's laughing at him, he can't help but laugh too. Worm ushers Frank down to one end of the sliding gate and they open it just far enough for Frank to squeeze through, both Worm and the venue guy keeping any other kids from slipping past.
Mikey pulls Frank into a hug the moment he's through the gate.
"I know, I know, I'm an idiot," Frank admits.
Mikey pulls Frank's pass out of his back pocket and puts it back around Frank's neck. "Don't leave it behind again, okay?"
"Not a lot of opportunity between now and tomorrow morning."
"Whatever, this isn't the last time you're gonna come on tour with me, is it?"
For a moment Mikey looks hellishly unsure, but it slips from his face when Frank says, "Course not! I can have all the glamour of the rockstar lifestyle without actually having to be a rockstar, right?"
"Whatever," Mikey says, "Go on back inside, you're fucking freezing. I should probably stay out and sign for a while."
Frank is pretty cold, but before he takes off back inside where it's warm and he's got papers to grade, he directs Mikey over to the barrier where Em and Jen are. "You should meet these two; they helped me get back inside."
It's worth it for the looks on their faces when Mikey says thanks, and that he owes them a favour. They're happy enough to collect in the form of early access to the show, and Frank can see them down in the front row, smushed up against the barrier and screaming their heads off the whole gig.
***
The guys are on fire that night. Frank perches on top of a road case side stage and watches, entranced. He can't help but mouth along to the words now and he knows all Mikey's stage moves by heart. Frank's so swept up in the show he might as well be there on stage himself, living it through Mikey. Mikey knows it too, and plays most of the set with an eye in Frank's direction, sending him smiles and nods.
Mikey heads straight for Frank's side when they come off stage before the encore. He catches Frank in a sweaty hug.
Frank pushes up on his toes to lock his elbows around Mikey's neck. "Fucking good show dude."
He pulls back and hands Mikey a bottle of water, which Mikey drinks half of without before coming up for air. Frank would be a liar if he said his eyes weren't drawn downward, tracking the movement of Mikey's Adam's apple as he swallows.
Mikey wipes his mouth of with the back of his hand. "Fuck, man, I can't believe you're going home tomorrow."
"Me neither," Frank says, a little breathless, like he's the one who was just onstage.
A stage hand calls time, and Frank tunes back into the crowd, who are chanting and clapping and calling for their band. "Better get back out there," Frank says, catching Mikey in a last hug that's all sweat and elbows before the guys head back out.
Bert crashes into Frank as he passes, and Frank swats at him. Bert turns around, points at Frank, grinning. "You better be ready, Frankie!"
"Ready for what?" Frank yells, but his voice is lost in the cacophony of the crowd.
He finds out two songs later, when the band's reached the end of the setlist but they don't leave the stage. Bert calls out to the teeming masses, "You want one more?" They scream back at him loud enough to make Frank's ears roar, but Bert just shakes his head, cupping a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you! Do you want one more?" Frank can't help laughing to himself when the crowd calls back even louder, but Bert just keeps acting like they're doing nothing. "I guess you don't, but fuck it - we'll do it anyway. Frank, get out here!"
Frank stops laughing at that and stares at Bert in confusion. Bert grins at Frank, his microphone still in his hand as he points at him, then twists his hand around to beckon him with one finger. Frank looks over to Mikey, who's already pulled his guitar off and is holding it outstretched, pointed at Frank.
Fuck. He better get his ass onstage.
He's not ready for the way the crowd cheer when he steps out of the wings into the open. On some level, his brain can compute that those cheers are for him but he still doesn't really believe it. Bert points at him, telling the crowd that Mikey's a slacker who needs his friends to fill in for him. It's all just echo in Frank's ears as he walks over to Mikey. The rest of the world blurs around Mikey's wide smile and his hands holding out his sparkly guitar.
"I can't believe you're springing this on me. I hate you," Frank shouts over the cheers.
"You love me," Mikey throws back, settling his guitar strap around Frank's shoulders, and Frank can't deny the statement so he doesn't talk at all. He knows he's smiling like a fucking idiot as Mikey adjust the strap so the guitar hangs just right. He never considered this could happen again, hadn't even hoped for it.
Mikey straightens the guitar and leans in to say loudly near Frank's ear, "Give 'em a show, Frankie." He nods to Bert and Frank scrambles to get his hands on the strings as Dan counts them in with claps of his drumsticks. He doesn't need to ask the song - of course it's Pretty Handsome Awkward and it's so obvious now that they were planning this because they never leave it off the setlist.
Frank gets lost in playing immediately. He turns to face the crowd this time, as his fingers fly and he drinks in the experience, committing it to memory. The screaming fans aren't terrifying this time, they're with him, they're screaming for him. The monitors feed the music back to him, clear and loud, the crowd noise layered over the top, and it's fucking magic. The first time he did this the nerves robbed him of all but a sense memory - this time he wants to ink it into his mind like a tattoo. He lets the music sweep him up, pull him around, throwing his body to the beat and the chords.
It isn't until he's spinning around that he sees that Mikey isn't side stage this time - he's sitting on his amp watching, fingers tapping in time to the beats, looking enthralled and proud. Frank's heart is too big for his chest, his own fingers are moving faster than he can track. The music fills him and spills out of him, pouring off the stage into the crowd and he could get addicted to this so easily.
The song ends too soon. Frank's breathless and sweating, his pulse pounding in his ears and chest, looking out into the sea of faces, just trying to process this moment. He can hear Bert talking to the crowd, thanking them for a good show, telling them goodnight. He knows it's over, but it doesn't compute. Suddenly Mikey is beside him, his bony arm winding around Frank's shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Frank clings to him, the guitar skewed awkwardly between them, and presses his smile into Mikey's shirt.
"I'll never forget this, Mikes," Frank tells him, no idea if Mikey can even hear him over the crowd, but Mikey squeezes Frank's shoulder so maybe he does.
Mikey straightens up, helping Frank get the guitar off and handed safely to a tech before dragging him downstage by the arm, to join Bert, Jepha, Quinn and Dan. They all link arms and bow. The audience screams their appreciation at them, ringing in Frank's ears. When he straightens up he catches sight of Em and Jen down the front. Em's mohawk is wilting and Jen's hair is plastered to her face with sweat, but they both look ecstatic. He sends them a wave and they clap and cheer up at him. Then he's being dragged off the stage by various hands, out of sight of the crowd and Mikey's arms are around him again, hugging him tight and Frank can't fathom not hugging back. He winds his arms around Mikey's neck, spinning them around until they're stumbling and laughing, riding the high of the show and the crowd and the noise.
Frank's still smiling when he leans back, seeing the same ecstatic beaming grin he knows he's wearing mirrored back at him on Mikey's face. It's pure instinct when he murmurs Mikey's name, the word dropping from his mouth as he leans up on tiptoe and kisses him.
Either Mikey's riding the same high as Frank or he wants it just as bad because there's no hesitation, not even a pause for breath. His mouth opens under Frank's and he presses closer, his hands slipping to Frank's shoulders, his fingers tight points of contact as he grips Frank through his damp shirt and kisses back like a motherfucker. There's no room in Frank's head for any doubts, any thoughts about why they shouldn't do this. It's right. It's time. It's fucking overdue.
Mikey makes a small noise that reverberates against Frank's lips and he pushes closer, making Frank stumble backwards until there's a roadcase against his back. Mikey kisses him up against it, lips firm and warm over Frank's, their tongues sliding together and it's all Frank can do to hold on, to slide a hand into Mikey's hair and hold him there, even as his other hand slips down to hang on to Mikey's waist.
Distantly he thinks he can hear the guys laughing at them, wolf-whistling, clapping, but Frank doesn't spare them a thought. He opens his mouth under Mikey's, strokes his tongue with his own. Mikey's hands slide down Frank's chest and around his waist to grab handfuls of Frank's ass. Frank can't think, he's burning up. He grabs a handful of Mikey's shirt, groaning into his mouth, pushing up on his toes, needing more, needing it all.
It isn't until he's hooked an ankle around the back of Mikey's thigh, trying to climb him, grind on him, that any sense of the outside world starts to penetrate his skull. He breaks the kiss, panting, pulling back just far enough that they're apart but sharing breath. Mikey's eyes are dazed and warm. His mouth is wet, loose, and Frank just wants it back on his. He leans in and takes it, fuck everything else, fuck talking, it can all wait. He's waited for this way too long.
"Frank." Mikey's voice is a wet whisper, forced out between kisses. "Frank, what are we doing?"
"I don't fucking know," Frank says, his voice rough and shot. He takes Mikey's mouth in a biting kiss. "But can we not stop?"
"Okay," Mikey says, his hand dragging upwards over Frank's ass. His fingertips slide into the waistband of Frank's jeans, warm points of contact on Frank's sweaty skin.
Mikey slips his hand up to cup Frank's face, holding their mouths apart a moment longer between kisses. "Probably not here though, yeah?"
Frank blinks and forces himself not to lean in for another kiss. "Huh?"
"Frank," Mikey says. His tone says it all as he glances to the side where Bert and Quinn are still watching them, not even trying to hide how entertained they are by it all.
Bert raises his hands, golf clapping. "Nice work guys, can we fucking go now?"
Frank blinks a few times. He's still pretty lost to the world. It still doesn't really compute that they're only side stage, that they've just put on a hell of a show for a bunch of roadies and techs. As much as he knows he might regret it later, at the moment he can't bring himself to care. He's got Mikey warm under his hands, still smiling at him, still looking like he'd kiss him up against the wall all over again. He can't think of anywhere he'd rather be.
Mikey's the one to pull back first, sliding his arm around Frank's shoulders and leading them both backstage, following behind the other guys. Frank gives a wave to their audience of crew as they pass. He's still not really on the planet. It's like his feet aren't even touching the ground. He's going to come down from this high eventually and maybe it'll be a crash, like the world's worst hangover, but right now he doesn't even care.
Right now he's got Mikey's arm around him and it's fucking hotel night.
***
There isn't any discussion at all back at the hotel about room assignments. Mikey takes two key cards and shoves them in his back pocket. Frank knows that Bert and the guys are laughing at them but he's so far from caring it doesn't even register on his radar. They were damn well behaved in the van on the way to the hotel and they continue to hold themselves in check through the now-familiar dance of check-in, mostly because Frank has a feeling if he even lets himself casually touch Mikey right now he won't be able to stop himself.
They're quiet in the elevator, and Mikey fumbles the key card twice when he tries to get the door open. He glances sideways at Frank and they share an embarrassed giggle. Closing the door feels somehow final, and Frank struggles for a moment with how to start. When they came off stage it just happened, he didn't even think about it, it was like two magnets being pulled together. Now, anything he does is deliberate, he can't write it off as a mistake, a lapse in judgement, anything.
They hover for a moment, just inside the door. Frank clenches his fingers closed and stretches them open again. Then Mikey says Frank's name, softly, his voice rough and lifted at the end like a question. Frank meets Mikey's eyes and he can see the same confusion, the same barely-held-in desire reflected back at him. It moves his feet the two steps closer into Mikey's space. It raises his hands to Mikey's face, until his fingers are on Mikey's cheek, gently guiding Mikey's head down for a kiss that feels fragile. Mikey's lips are light on his, and he tastes a little of cigarettes and sweat. Frank leans up, stroking the seam of Mikey's mouth with his tongue until he opens up and kisses Frank back.
They linger like that, long slow kisses, chests barely brushing and their bodies not touching anywhere else except for Frank's hand on Mikey cheek. It almost feels like high school, the way Frank's free hand dangles by his side, the way he wants to reach up and touch but he's not sure if he can - if he should.
Then Mikey's hand falls lightly on Frank's shoulder. His fingers slip down over Frank's chest to settle on Frank's waist, warm like a brand. Frank shudders a little, a vibration that runs down his body like a perfectly strummed chord. He grabs for Mikey's shoulder with his free hand, presses in closer, deepens the kiss. The throaty noise Mikey makes is so worth it. His tongue strokes into Frank's mouth, then he presses Frank back against the door, just getting all in there. His kisses get rougher, firmer, biting lightly at Frank's bottom lip. Frank groans and pushes up against Mikey, wanting to get closer, to feel more, for their bodies to merge.
Frank hooks his leg up over Mikey's, his foot brushing the back of Mikey's thigh. God, he wants to climb him, and Mikey must read his mind because he tucks his hand under Frank's knee and lifts, until Frank's off the floor and their groins are aligned. Mikey moans into his mouth and grinds on him, his tongue painting over Frank's lips and fuck, it's good. So good.
Mikey eases closer, pushing his tongue into Frank's mouth as he gets a grip on Frank's ass with his free hand, rubbing up against him. Frank can feel how hard they both are through two layers of denim. He lets out a strangled noise, hooking his other leg up around Mikey's waist, so he's wedged between the door and Mikey's body.
It feels awesome right up until Mikey stumbles, breaking the kiss and leaning an arm on the door. "You're fucking heavy, Frankie."
"Wow, you say the sweetest things."
Mikey narrows his eyes and leans in to bite Frank's lower lip in retaliation. It doesn't really work as a punishment because it just leads to more wet, needy kisses, until Frank comes up for air, panting. "The fuck are we doing?"
He means their ridiculous position, but Mikey must take it a different way. "I have no idea, but can we keep doing it?" He wobbles a little, nearly dropping Frank.
Frank yelps and grabs Mikey's shoulders so he doesn't hit the floor, barking out a short, startled laugh. "There's a bed, you know."
"Yeah, there is." Mikey punctuates the statement with a wet kiss. His eyes are dark and his mouth looks like sex. "We should probably use it."
"You have the best ideas, Mikeyway."
"Hold on," is the only warning Frank gets before Mikey steps back from the door, stumbling across the floor in an ungainly fashion with Frank still hanging onto him for dear life. He dumps Frank on the bed with no fanfare at all, bending to pull off his shoes before crawling onto the bed to straddle him.
He presses Frank down into the mattress, a delicious weight and Frank rolls his hips up, watching the way the movement makes Mikey shift in his lap, his head tilting forward and hair flopping into his eyes as he groans and rocks down against Frank.
Sure, Frank's seen Mikey make out with people, mostly not on purpose. But seeing Mikey like this, all undone and high on sex, to have his fuck-me eyes directed at Frank - it's a side of Mikey he's only ever glimpsed before, and he had no idea it would undo him so thoroughly.
"Mikey," Frank pants, his voice sounding breathless and pathetically needy. He reaches for Mikey's belt, clumsy fingers trying to pull it open, and Mikey takes the cue to start on Frank's. Mikey's jeans are button-fly, because he's apparently some kind of masochist, so by the time Frank gets them open Mikey's already sliding a hand into Frank's jeans, his long fingers shaping Frank's cock through his underwear. Frank can't help squirming, nearly unseating Mikey and totally losing where he's at with getting Mikey's pants open.
Mikey curls down over him, kissing him slow and easy as he squeezes Frank's cock through the worn-soft cotton of his briefs. He breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead to Frank's, shaking his head a little. "I can't believe we're doing this. After all this time."
"I can believe it," Frank admits. "I just can't believe it took us so long."
"Took you so long," Mikey says, his voice hot on Frank's lips. "You could've had me years ago."
"It was nice of you to tell me," Frank says, finally getting the last stubborn button open and his hand into Mikey's jeans. "Imagine how many blowjobs you've missed out on." He squeezes Mikey's dick, making Mikey gasp in a breath. He's hard in Frank's hand, the cotton of his underwear damp with precome. Mikey twitches over Frank, mouth working soundlessly. Frank knows he's trying to come up with a clever reply, but Frank keeps teasing, stealing away any words with the movement of his hand until the only sound that leaks from Mikey's mouth is a breathy moan. He rocks down against Frank's hand, writhing sinuously, and he's just so fucking gorgeous to watch.
Mikey either can't come up with anything or he gives up trying because he tilts his head to take Frank's mouth instead. Frank's happy to go with it, hooking his free arm around Mikey's neck and kissing back, getting into it - mouths, tongues, teeth. He swallows the delicious noises Mikey makes against his lips as he moves his hand. Mikey seems to remember his own hand, still loosely gripping Frank's dick and he starts to move it again, firm knowing strokes that have Frank making his own noises into their joined mouths.
It's long moments of bliss and agony. Frank wants so much more, wants to suck Mikey off and be sucked off, to fuck and be fucked, but he can't make himself move from this spot, can't even fathom how to get his clothes off. He can't give up Mikey's mouth for anything.
Mikey's the one who breaks it, panting against Frank's lips. "That stuff about blow jobs, was that an offer?" He looks down at Frank, the question held in the curve of one raised eyebrow - a patented Mikeyway expression. He leans down again, licking across Frank's lower lip.
Frank's brain is barely able to form words, let alone clever ones, so he opts for honesty. "You want it to be?" His voice is shot, gravelly and rough.
"Hell yeah," Mikey says, giving Frank's cock a few fast strokes. Frank stutters out a groan. Mikey writhes down against him, skin warm and slick everywhere their bodies touch. Frank loses what scrap of resolve he might have once had. He's desperate for anything, anything Mikey wants.
It's a cool shock when Mikey rolls off him, and Frank doesn't manage to swallow the needy whine that escapes his lips at the loss of contact. It takes a moment for Frank to realise Mikey's rolled on to his back so he can wriggle out of his stupidly tight jeans, and an even longer moment for Frank to figure out he should probably follow suit. He gets his shirt off, but before he can slide his shoes off, Mikey's naked and Frank forgets about getting undressed, just needing to get his hands on Mikey - now.
Mikey's stretched out on the bed, all naked skin and Frank can't drink him in fast enough. Mikey's more filled out now than he once was, lean muscle where once it was just skin stretched over bone. His arms are little darker than his shoulders and chest, and the light hairs scattered over his chest are almost invisible, flaring golden where they catch the light of the bedside lamp. Frank's hands follow the trail of his eyes, tracing his fingertips up Mikey's arms, over his shoulders, down his chest.
Mikey moves under his hands, slow and languid, pushing into Frank's touch. His eyes are at half mast, watching Frank with a heat that burns Frank up from the inside. Frank traces his hands lower, around Mikey's belly button, following the line of hair that gets darker as it leads down to his cock. Frank stops a moment to take that in, really look at it. He might have caught glimpses of Mikey naked over their years together, but he's never really let himself look. He does now. Mikey's cock is long and elegant, like his fingers. He's hard, straining up from the nest of dark blond curls, shiny at the tip with precome. Frank's mouth waters and he lowers his head.
He traces his tongue up the side of Mikey's shaft, avoiding the head to lick back down the other side. It's their first time, he wants to make it last, make it good. Mikey makes a throaty noise somewhere between desire and frustration. Frank smiles to himself, and does it again. Mikey paws at his shoulder, gropes up Frank's neck to catch in his hair.
"Frank, c'mon. Don't tease."
Frank giggles. Mikey knows better than to make demands; it only makes Frank want to do the exact opposite. He stops licking Mikey's dick altogether, turning his head to bite lightly at the top of Mikey's thigh. Mikey makes a wounded noise, his fingers tightening in Frank's hair, trying to direct his head back where he wants it. Frank giggles again, ducking his head out of Mikey's grip and leaning up over him.
"Are those the best moves you've got, Mikey? I thought you were a rockstar," he teases.
"Oh, I've got moves." Mikey isn't even sulking; Frank has to work this harder. He barely finishes the thought when Mikey flips him, using a totally unfair WWE move Frank never did get around to learning. Except clearly, Mikey's decided to use his powers for good instead of evil. Before Frank's even managed to catch a breath, Mikey yanks his jeans down and ducks his head to take Frank in his mouth, no warning, no hesitation. He goes for it - hard and fast, sliding his mouth to the base of Frank's dick and back up again - wet, sucking, gorgeous.
Oh fuck, it's so good - too good. Frank's seeing stars, heat building low in his belly, threatening to send him off way too soon. Frank has to catch Mikey by the hair, cup his chin, hold him there.
"Fuck, Mikey, you have to, I'm gonna-" he stutters out. Mikey doesn't move his head again, lets Frank hold him there, still swirling his tongue around the head of Frank's dick, making him whimper.
When he finally pulls off he's smirking like he knows he's a total asshole and - worse - that he's proud of it. "What were you saying about moves?"
Frank wants to play, he does. He wants to throw something back at Mikey, to wrestle him into submission, to win, but he can't right now. He's balancing on a knife's edge and he just, he just wants.
"You have to fuck me," he says, panting and breathless, not enough brain cells left to even feel embarrassed about it. He grabs at Mikey's hip, feeling the hard jut of his hipbone under his fingers, pulling Mikey forwards. "Now, Mikes, please."
This is Mikey's cue to tease him some more, to demand a prize, to make Frank admit he's lost, that Mikey is the master. But when Frank focuses on Mikey's face there's nothing in his expression but naked desire. His colour's high and he's looking at Frank like he's everything he could ever want, like Frank's just uttered the hottest words he's ever heard.
"You sure?" he asks. His hands are already tightening where they lie on Frank's hips, squeezing hard, and Frank presses up into the touch.
"Yes. Yes, please, yes." Frank knows he's babbling, but he can't help it. Mikey's with him though, Mikey's just fucking awesome, because he's already in motion, dragging Frank's jeans down and off, taking his shoes too. He vanishes from Frank's eyesight for a moment, but when he comes back there's a shine of foil in his hands as he rips open a condom. Frank knows he should do more, he should do something, but all he can do is watch, stomach trembling excitedly, as Mikey rolls it on his dick.
Mikey leans over him then, taking his mouth in a kiss that Frank's desperate for. Mikey does have moves. Though Frank never sees a lube bottle he knows there is one, because Mikey's fingers are sliding slick against his ass, fingertips gentle as they feel him out. Frank groans affirmative noises into their kiss and grinds down on Mikey's hand, everything in his movements saying "yes, more, yes".
Mikey kisses him again, sucking on his tongue as he presses a fingertip against Frank's hole. Frank pushes down against it, wanting Mikey inside him already. He gropes between their bodies, finding Mikey's sheathed cock and stroking it, his fingers sliding easily on the slippery latex. It pulls a groan from Mikey, his probing finger losing rhythm for a moment, then sliding out.
Frank breaks the kiss on a whimper. Mikey's face hovers above his, their lips a breath apart as two of Mikey's fingertips press at Frank's entrance. "Tell me if you need me to stop," Mikey whispers, his voice low, throaty, gorgeous. Frank nods, already knowing he won't need to. Fuck, he's so ready.
Two fingers is barely a stretch. It's nowhere near enough but Frank still rocks down against it, stroking Mikey's dick in time with his own staccato movements. Frank's own dick is trapped between their bodies, wet with precome, smearing on their bellies. He pumps Mikey's cock, harder, faster, until Mikey catches his wrist in a tight grip. "You've got to-" Mikey breaks off, panting, "I can't."
"Fuck me, already then," Frank demands, wriggling up against him.
"God, you're so bossy," Mikey complains, but there's no venom in it. He slides his fingers out, then he's lifting and spreading Frank's legs, leaning up over him, one hand still low and tight on his dick. "Like this?" he asks, like he hasn't already decided, and it's not like Frank's going to want to change position now, now when they're this close and he's fucking dying for it already.
"Oh my fucking god, will you just do it-?" The words choke off on Frank's lips as Mikey leans that little bit lower, raises Frank's ass that little bit higher, and then his dick is pressing at Frank's opening, hard, hot, ready and Frank could fucking faint from how good it is. He growls in his throat, gripping Mikey's hips, pulling at them, trying to urge Mikey inside, but Mikey's set on moving at his own pace. Which is slow - too slow.
"Mikey, fuck. Mikey, c'mon." Frank's voice is thready and desperate. Still Mikey resists any urge to hurry, leaning heavily over Frank on one elbow as he inches in. Frank bites his lip and pushes down with his ass, feeling the slow stretch as Mikey fills him up, until he's balls-deep in Frank.
Frank sighs,. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."
When he manages to pry his eyes open, Mikey's looking down at him, his mouth pulled up in a smile like Frank's the most amusing thing he's ever seen. "You talk a lot."
"You say that like it's a surprise," Frank answers, distracted. Most of his brain's still in his dick but he's with it enough to know Mikey should know this better than anyone. More importantly, though, they should get on with the fucking. "C'mon Mikey, just-"
The word chokes off because Mikey does. He pulls out and shoves back in again, and again, each movement pulling a whimper from Frank. Mikey brushes his lips across Frank's, whispering "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Frank echoes, on a long drawn-out breath, as he pushes back to meet Mikey's thrusts. His toes curl and he grabs onto Mikey's shoulders, riding him as much as he can while on his back. There's a stretch through the back of his legs where they're pressed back by Mikey's arms, but it's good, he can take it, he's not moving from this position for anything.
"Oh fuck, Frankie. Oh fuck." Mikey pants, moving faster, like he can't help himself, can't get enough. He covers Frank's mouth in a desperate, sucking kiss, licking into his mouth, groaning. Frank gropes between their bodies because his dick's so hard he might explode, fuck, he needs to touch. Mikey gets there first and fits long fingers around Frank's dick, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Frank's eyes flutter closed and he sucks hard on Mikey's lips as he shoves his ass back against Mikey's hips.
There's only breath, the scent of sweat, the slick sounds of their moves, the slaps of flesh hitting flesh. Frank gives himself up to it, breaking the kiss to stutter out broken noises, every cell in his body buzzing. He's so ready to break.
Mikey comes first, his movements blurring, shoving into Frank hard and fast. His hand on Frank's dick falters and he chokes out a loud, strangled noise. Frank watches as his eyes crease shut and his mouth falls loose as his dick pulses in Frank's ass. It's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He holds tight to Mikey as he shakes through it, his head dropping forwards like a puppet with cut strings, tucking his face into Frank's neck. Frank wraps his arms around Mikey's sweaty back, breathless, almost as high as if he'd come himself.
Mikey lies boneless, his hitching breaths painting a cool path down Frank's neck. Frank strokes his fingers down Mikey's spine as he waits for his breathing to even out. His own dick aches between them, reminding him insistently that he hasn't come yet. Mikey shifts, and the movement brushes his belly against the tip of Frank's dick. Frank can't contain the groan fast enough, but it's okay, Mikey's already moving, already firming his grip on Frank's dick, leaning up so he can watch Frank's face as he jerks him off.
His dick's still in Frank's ass - softening a little but still there - and his fingers are fucking perfect, hard calluses rubbing up the sensitive underside of Frank's cock. Frank can't help but writhe down against Mikey's touch, moaning and gasping for breath. When he can focus his eyes all the can see is Mikey's face, watching him, his eyes dark and intense. It undoes something in his chest to see him looking like that.
It's so intimate, like being on show, like letting Mikey look into his soul while he does this. It's intense, but it's not scary - if there's anyone Frank trusts to see him like this, to see everything of himself, it's got to be Mikey.
Mikey switches his grip, getting his thumb under the head of Frank's dick on every upstroke, and Frank's spine melts. He groans, loud and long, then starts chanting, "Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Mikey, that's it, that's it, don't stop, oh god."
Mikey doesn't stop. He speeds his hand up and lowers his head to attack Frank's mouth, kissing him hard and messy, chasing his mouth as Frank wriggles under him, writhes up into him, moaning and whimpering, utterly lost to himself. Mikey breaks the kiss with a whispered, "Come on, Frankie," and that's all it takes to tip Frank over the edge. One more stroke from Mikey's hand and he's gone, whimpering loudly, bucking and writhing under Mikey as his dick pulses and shoots all over Frank's belly and Mikey's hand. Frank's heart pounds in his ears as Mikey strokes him down from it, riding out every last sensation. He feels amazing, alive, every cell buzzing.
He blinks dazedly at the ceiling as Mikey pulls out gently, disappearing off the bed to dump the condom. He's back before Frank can complain, flopping down beside him hard enough to make Frank bounce on the mattress. Frank rolls onto his side, flopping an arm over Mikey's chest and resting his head on Mikey's shoulder. It's really fucking bony.
"You make a shitty pillow." he complains, the words muffled into Mikey's skin.
"You make shitty pillow talk," Mikey says, but he lifts Frank's head up and slides a pillow underneath, a soft layer between his shoulder and Frank's face.
"Thanks," Frank mutters into the pillow. His eyelids are already heavy. They should get under the covers before the air conditioning makes them cold. He really doesn't want to move though.
Mikey lays a warm hand over the back of Frank's arm where it lies across his chest. He traces his fingertips up Frank's skin, sweeping upwards to follow the lines the lines of ink around Frank's upper arms. The tattoos that betray Frank's punk rock past, the ones he has to wear long sleeves to cover even when the weather's too warm, but that he has never once regretted. They're part of him, part of his past as much as Mikey is.
The combination of Mikey's gently stroking fingers and the cool air in the room gives Frank goosebumps. He shivers and Mikey reaches out to the empty side of the bed, grabbing hold of the coverlet and flipping the part they're not lying on over the top of them. Frank hums, "Mmmm, better," his voice sounding about two octaves lower than usual, and snuggles in.
His eyes are closed and he's nodding off when Mikey's fingers skate through his hair. "We gonna talk about this?" he asks, gently.
Frank makes a face, pressing in closer to Mikey and muttering, "Mmmph. Tomorrow." He pats Mikey's arm clumsily. "Sleep now, Mikeyway."
They do.
***
Frank hasn't woken up with that 'just got laid' feeling in a long time. God, he's missed it. He's extra relaxed and floppy, with aches in all the right places. He's also got a warm Mikeyway wrapped around him like a blanket, his chest pressed to Frank's back, his arm heavy across Frank's chest, his breath blowing warm across the back of Frank's neck. From the cadence of his breathing - slow and even - he's still asleep.
Frank opens his eyes, letting the unfamiliar hotel room slide slowly into focus. He and Mikey had sex last night. They fucked, and it was hot and awesome. He rolls the thought around in his head, but no matter how many ways he looks at it, he can't bring himself to be worried or regret what happened. He knows he should be freaking out, at least a little. He tries to remember all the cons he mentioned to Ray on the phone when he was trying to talk himself out of this, and while he can recall what most of them were, the fear and worry attached to them doesn't feel anywhere near as strong now.
He slides his hand up, covering Mikey's where it lies across on his chest. He slides their fingers together in a loose grip and wriggles backward into Mikey's warmth. Mikey stirs a little, making a low noise, and his arm tightens around Frank even in his sleep. Frank doesn't try to fight the goofy grin that pulls at his lips in response to that. He just squeezes Mikey's hand and snuggles in.
Of course, Frank is still only human, and he's awake, and he has a naked Mikeyway and probably only a few hours left to make use of that. So he maybe wriggles around a little more than necessary, until he hears Mikey's breathing hitch and he shifts behind him, making a low noise is his throat as he wakes.
"Huh," is the first word out of Mikey's mouth, low and thick with sleep. Frank rolls onto his back so he can see Mikey's face. His eyes are all sleepy and he has a crease on his cheek from the pillow. His hair is tangled up, flat on one side and rumpled on the other. In the soft light leaking through the drawn curtains he looks flawless and beautiful.
"Huh, what?" Frank asks, not even bothering to try not to stare.
Mikey blinks at him slowly, glancing down between their bodies then tracing his gaze back up Frank's torso, over his chest, to meet his eyes. "This actually happened," Mikey says, following his eyes with his hand, warm fingers sliding up Frank's chest, lingering over Frank's heart.
"Mmmm, yeah it did," Frank says, shifting closer to Mikey, until their bodies are flush and he can feel Mikey's dick heavy against his thigh.
Mikey traces a circle around the flames on Frank's chest, watching his own fingers, and says, "So, are we gonna talk about this now?"
Frank's mouth tugs down at the side. He doesn't want to talk now. He's warm and relaxed and already half hard from Mikey just being this close. "We can talk if you want," he says, his tone teasing as he presses up against Mikey. He hooks an arm around Mikey's shoulder and flips them over so Mikey's on his back. It's not quite as ninja a move as when Mikey does it, but he thinks he pulls it off. "Or, you know, I still owe you a blow job."
Mikey's eyes go dark. Frank doesn't even wait for a reply. He slides downward, painting a trail down Mikey's chest with his tongue. Mikey's hands are in his hair before Frank even gets to crotch level, loosely gripping. He makes a noise in his throat, low and growly, that makes Frank dick jump.
"Mmmm, I guess we can always talk later." Mikey's fingers flex in Frank's hair and Frank ducks his head, taking the head of Mikey's cock in his mouth and sucking lightly, swirling his tongue around to get it nice and wet. His fingers trail down Frank's face, over his hollowed cheeks as Frank dips his head lower, taking more of him in. Mikey moans appreciatively, his hips rocking up a little into Frank's mouth. "But fuck, Frankie, your flight. You're leaving soon, we're not gonna have time."
Frank pulls off, jacking Mikey's dick, his fingers sliding smoothly over slick skin. "I hear phones are good for talking, but they're shit for blowjobs."
"Point," Mikey grunts, then Frank's on him again, his palms pressed flat over Mikey's hips as he takes him deep, right to the back of his throat. Mikey makes a beautiful, hungry noise and Frank squirms, rubbing his dick on the mattress, needing some kind of contact. Mikey's fingers flex in his hair and Frank works him slow and steady, sucking and licking until Mikey's hips push up off the bed. Frank works with that, moving his mouth in counter to Mikey's rocking hips and it isn't long before the hold Mikey has in his hair gets tighter, just an edge of pain.
Frank goes faster, losing himself in what he's doing until it's all just the musky scent of Mikey all around him, the salty-bitter taste of him in his mouth. He's making it good, pulling the most gorgeous noises he can from Mikey. Mikey tugs at his hair and says, in a desperate whisper, "Frank, Frankie, I'm gonna." Frank pulls up just enough that he doesn't choke when Mikey comes, so he can swallow it down, milk him through it as Mikey's dick throbs against his lips.
Frank's just as breathless as Mikey by the end, mouth stretched and used in that oh so good way. He crawls up to flop beside Mikey, both of them breathing hard.
Mikey's a mess, sweaty and flushed, still panting a little. He looks beautiful. He shoots Frank a sloppy smile, then leans in kiss him, messy and wet, no doubt tasting himself on Frank's tongue. That thought is hot enough to make Frank squirm closer, rubbing up against Mikey and letting his hard cock press against Mikey's thigh. Mikey takes the hint and reaches down to fit his hand around him, stroking him off slowly as they continue to kiss, licking inside each other's mouths.
Frank growls in his throat and tries to get closer, but Mikey pushes him onto his back instead. Frank lets out a startled laugh which gets muffled against Mikey's mouth when he kisses him again, just long enough to tease more than it satisfies. Mikey breaks it with a wicked smile before sliding down the bed, every movement designed to maximise skin to skin contact. Frank catches a breath at the first brush of Mikey's lips across his lower belly. He licks his way down, following the trail of hair the leads from Frank's belly button to his dick and blowing lightly over the wet skin, making Frank shiver and writhe on the bed. Mikey's hands close firmly over Frank's hips, holding him in place as he lowers his head to lick at the tip of Frank's cock, where it's already wet and leaking with Frank's need.
Mikey doesn't tease, and Frank chokes out a startled gasp as his cock is enveloped in wet heat. Mikey sucks down, wrapping his hand around the base of Frank's dick, jerking him as he sucks, his lips meeting his fingers on each stroke. It feels amazing and Frank falls into it, closes his eyes and just feels it. "Mikey, fuck. Fuck, Mikey, your mouth."
Mikey hums around Frank's dick, making every sensation that much more intense. He slides his free hand under Frank's ass, rolling his balls in his fingers until Frank's whimpering, startled desperate noises, already so close to the edge. Frank grips the sheets, tilting his head down, wanting to see Mikey doing this. The sight itself nearly melts his brain. Mikey's eyes are closed, his expression focused and zen, his fingers working smooth over Frank's dick as he sucks. Frank's eyes get caught watching the tips of Mikey's blond bangs brush over his belly, shifting strands making patterns over his inked swallows.
Frank has to reach down and touch his fingers to Mikey's. cheek. Mikey opens his eyes and Frank nearly forgets to breathe at their dark intensity. Frank hiccups out a slightly hysterical noise. It's just so surreal that this is Mikey. Mikey who he's known forever, Mikey of the gangly knees and messy hair, Mikey who knows him inside out. Ten years ago he'd never have thought he'd have Mikey's lips around his dick one day.
"Mikey," he groans, not sure what he wants to say, but he keeps saying it, chanting Mikey's name on repeat, his hips thrusting, his torso curling over as he gets closer, closer.
Mikey pulls off at the last moment, jerking Frank through it as his cock spasms and he comes. Mikey lowers his head, letting it hit his chin, turning his head so it swipes over his cheek. If Frank hadn't just come he'd come all over again from just seeing that. He's flying somewhere five feet above the bed, his heart thumping like a kick drum and Mikey looks incredible - beautiful, debauched, sinful.
Frank grabs Mikey under his arms, pulling him up until he's a sweaty blanket all over Frank's body. He arches up off the bed to lick a trail up Mikey neck, over the line of his chin, across his cheek, tasting his own release bitter on his tongue.
"Fuck, Mikes. That was amazing," he whispers. He licks his lips and kisses Mikey's, slow and deep. Mikey kisses back, fisting a hand in Frank's hair, his other hand on Frank's chest, warm and heavy over his heart. Frank could do this forever, and he does make a good try of it, but they're interrupted by a pounding on the door, Brian's muffled voice reminding them that Mikey's bus call is imminent and Frank has to be at the airport soon.
Frank releases Mikey's mouth reluctantly. There's a long moment where all they do is breathe, and Frank struggles through his post-orgasm haze to find the right words to say. They are beyond his reach, apparently, but he speaks anyway. "You're gonna call me, right? So we can have that conversation we traded for blowjobs?"
It makes Mikey smile, wide and crooked, eyes crinkling a little at the sides. "Yeah," he breathes. "We'll talk. About... this." His fingers flex a little, pressing his palm firmer over Frank's heart. His smile falters a little, and Frank leans up, laying a kiss over it, pushing into it as much as he can, how much he wants this, Mikey and him, together.
Mikey's the one to break it, pushing Frank away, breathless. "Brian wasn't kidding, dude, we've really gotta-"
"Yeah, I know." Frank doesn't want to. Really doesn't want to, but there's no answer for it. He's pushed his flight back as far as it can go, he'll barely get back without taking sick days at this rate. Already, he'll be grading the whole flight back. He takes another long look at Mikey, eyes tracing from where his feet are tangled in the sheets, up his lean body to where he's watching Frank right back. He doesn't lean in for one more kiss because he knows it'll become two. He makes himself wriggle out from under Mikey and rolls off the bed. "Think I've got time for a shower?"
"I doubt it." Mikey shrugs.
"You're not going to have one either way, are you?"
"Nope."
Frank smothers a laugh into his hand and heads for the bathroom. He can at least brush his teeth.
When he steps back into the hotel room after washing his face and giving himself a quick wipedown, Mikey's already dressed. Frank takes a moment to mourn the sudden lack of naked skin, trying not to think about how long it'll be before he gets to see it all again. "You're not even going to wash your face?" Frank asks, catching Mikey's chin with his thumb, remembering, and his voice drops an octave lower. "I came all over you."
"Maybe I like it," Mikey says, and he's not even joking.
Blood shoots to Frank's dick so fast he nearly swoons. "Fuck, Mikes," he mutters. The words get muffled as he kisses Mikey hard, pressing up close, his naked body flush against Mikey's, denim rough against his dick. They share a few more desperate biting kisses before the door bangs again and they break apart reluctantly, out of time.
Mikey can't come to the airport with him, so they say their goodbyes in the hotel parking lot, in front of the waiting tour bus. It's too out in the open to really do anything, but Mikey pushes Frank onto the bus, kissing him in the scant cover of the stairwell, at eye level for once because Frank's standing on a higher step.
Frank breaks the kiss, hands clinging to Mikey's shoulders as he says, "Don't forget about me, now." It sounds pathetic to his own ears and he bites his lip to swallow more words down.
"Not a chance," Mikey says, linking their fingers and squeezing. "You and me, right?"
Frank nods sharply. "Yeah. Fuck everybody else."
***
When Frank gets off the flight, the first thing he does is check his phone for messages. There aren't any, but that doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Sometimes it takes a little while for his phone to find a network, and even though his voicemail usually gives a text message notification, it's possible there's a delay in delivery. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened. Plus there's always a chance Mikey actually paid attention to what times Frank would be in transit and decided there was no point in calling while Frank was still in the air.
He dials his voicemail anyway, just in case, and gets a cheerful message from the automated robot woman that he has no new messages. He shakes it off. He's not worried. He should get to baggage claim anyway.
He hasn't bothered to arrange for anyone to pick him up from the airport, so once he has his bag he makes for the exit, following the signs to the taxis. There's a long line, and he waits in it, feeling itchy and unsettled. It's weird being by himself after a couple of weeks of always moving in a pack, always being herded. There's no one talking to him, no one bothering him, no one by his side. It feels wrong. He puts it down to a post-tour comedown and pulls out his phone to distract himself. No new messages, but a small number of emails. Three are to do with work and two are notifications of upcoming shows at a couple of local venues he's on mailing lists for. None are from Mikey.
Without really thinking about it, he taps the symbol for text messages, scrolling down to find the last text Mikey sent him. It's from the day before, prior to the gig, Mikey asking Frank to grab him some cigarettes on a run to the store. It feels like a million years ago, already.
He starts to tap out a message, just a "hey, landed, not dead" kind of thing, but he stops himself before he presses send. He should probably wait for Mikey to text first. Being back on the ground in Jersey and by himself again, it all feels so far away, like it happened on another planet. He puts his phone away, resolute. It's cool, it'll feel less weird when he's heard from Mikey. Anyway, that next cab is his.
The house is dark and smells stale and closed up when he gets home. The silence is overwhelming. He puts up with it for as long as he can - which is about as long as it takes him to dump his bags and dig out his laundry - before he goes through and turns on every light in the house, blindly hitting play on the stereo as he passes it by. He nearly drops the handful of clothes under his arm when the music assaults his ear. Of course, the last CD he played before he left was The Used and now they're blasting from his speakers. If this were a movie it would be Pretty Handsome Awkward but it's real life, so it's a different track. It would be a weird overreaction to turn it off.
It would also be a weird overreaction to feel like he can't turn it off without it meaning something deeper, he reasons, and puts on Black Flag instead. He piles the couch with paperwork and settles in, Rollins growling around him as he rushes through the last of his preparations. He's lost in lesson plans when the phone rings, startling him and he jumps for it, not even checking the caller ID first.
"Hello?"
"Hey Frank, are you back?" It's Ray, of course it's Ray. Frank glances at the clock and subtracts one - Mikey would be at a show right now, it makes sense that it's not him.
"Yeah, I'm back," Frank says, groping across the couch for the remote to turn down the Black Flag a little. "Got in a few hours ago."
"So, how was it? I heard you got up onstage and played a couple of times. Must have been rad."
Frank laughs, remembering how shit-scared he was to get up the first time, the rush of being out there, the sea of screaming faces. "It was pretty rad."
"How's Mikey doing?"
Frank fights down another wave of memories at Mikey's name, sweat-slick skin, Mikey's eyes fixed on him, intense as he bottomed out inside him. Frank coughs a little to clear his throat before answering, glad Ray can't see his face. "He's good, he's doing really well. Seems to be handling the rockstar shit okay."
"So was it all parties, chicks, drugs and booze?"
"Far from it, dude." All Frank can picture in his head is how many afternoons they spent in dressing rooms, Jeph with his nose in a book with Bert and Quinn playing sudden death solitaire while Mikey read out amusing entries on the Texts From Last Night website. "They're not exactly party animals."
"More just rock n' roll then, not so much the sex and the drugs."
"Well, not so much the drugs," Frank hedges,"I can't really speak for the sex, well, not for everyone in the band..." Frank trails off, having said too much already.
"Holy shit, Frank, don't tell me you actually grew a pair? You and Mikey boned?"
"That's such a sweet way of putting it, Ray," Frank snaps in his most cutting tone, but Ray's not even listening. He's calling out to Spencer, saying, "You were right, baby, they totally boned."
"You and Spencer were taking bets on this?"
"Um, not like money-bets. Just, you know, playing Devil's Advocate." Ray says, his voice too hurried. Frank's pretty sure he can hear Spencer in the background saying something that sounds suspiciously like "You owe me twenty bucks," before Ray shushes him. "Are you guys, like, a thing now?"
"A thing?"
"A couple? Dating? Something?"
Frank rubs a hand over his face, suddenly tired. "I should know the answer to this, shouldn't I?"
"You don't?" Ray asks, sounding genuinely worried.
"Not really." Frank shifts on the couch, moving his papers into neater piles. "We haven't really had a chance to talk about it since it happened."
There's a short pause before Ray says, "You will, though, right?"
"If he ever calls me," Frank says, then immediately wants to take it back. "Oh god, if I ever say something like that again I want you to punch me in the face."
"Okay, but I'm going to remind you that you told me to do it beforehand."
"Whatever." Frank waves the thought away. He waves all the thoughts away. Mikey will call when he can and Frank is not gonna turn into a giant girl about it either way.
"You found a rhythm guitarist yet?" Frank asks, deliberately switching conversation gears. It takes a moment for Ray to catch up with him, but he does, and slips right back into familiar territory.
"We've auditioned a couple of guys, but no one as charming as you." Frank waits, already knowing the next part. "Why don't you just come to a rehearsal? No strings, just see how it feels. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy being onstage again, I saw the videos."
"Oh god, you saw them too?" Frank makes a mental note to check YouTube later. He should know what he's up for if any of his students get wise to this.
"Sure did, Gerard told me. Come on, just one rehearsal, then you can tell me to fuck off and I promise I'll drop it."
Frank hesitates for just a moment before he says, "You're a fucking sweet talker, Ray Toro."
"Is that a yes?" Ray asks, his voice already pitching up in excitement.
Frank grins into his handset and says, "Yeah Ray, that's a yes. To a one off rehearsal and then you leave me alone."
"Sure, Frank. Promise," Ray answers, but the smile in his voice gives him away. He thinks he's already got Frank, now.
The truth is, he probably does.
***
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