Fic: "she (within the measure of a day)" (frank/gerard, NC-17, 8900 words)
Title: she (within the measure of a day)
Fandom: MCR
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Summary: Gerard steps out in heels for Halloween. Everybody enjoys it. Some enjoy it more than others. (college AU; ~8900 words; NC-17)
Notes: This started out as a ficlet for aneli8. Of Gerard in drag. About a month ago. It has since grown a mind of its own, and now it's a party. *hands* I DO NOT KNOW BREVITY, OKAY. BLOW ME. (With thanks to Elvis Costello for the title.)
(With many predictable, yet incredibly sincere thanks to brooklinegirl for the beta and the cookies. ♥)
"she (within the measure of a day)"
Gerard had done the drag thing before, so that part was nothing new. But dressing up for a party where people knew you were a guy dressed up as a girl, as opposed to being an anonymous slightly broad-shouldered girl out in the city, was different.
Still, he’d gone all out for this party, because that was what you did when you wanted to impress. The shoes were black patent leather with a beautiful curved high heel, and the pearls were his grandmother's, a single long string that he hung around his neck twice, like a flapper. His dress was black and sleek at the top, three-quarter sleeve, with a poofy skirt down to just below the knee, with crinoline underneath. He'd shaved his legs, which had gone better than the first time he'd tried it, and now his thighs rubbed together in that really nice way all the way at the top, where the stockings didn't reach, held up by a garter belt. His briefs were black and almost like panties, but not. It was a weird turn-on, being a girl of sorts for a night.
When Mikey came to get him, car keys dangling between his fingers, Gerard was just putting the final touches on his make-up, smudging the eye shadow over his eyelids, making it smoky. His lipstick was a deep red, he'd had to go to three different stores to find the perfect shade.
"Well? What do you think?" he asked, watching Mikey’s face in the mirror. Mirror Mikey just grinned and gave him a slightly ironic thumbs-up. He was going as a scene kid. He'd been waiting for Gerard a while.
Gerard shook his hips, feeling stupidly free and self-conscious at the same time, and turned around. "Okay. Ready." His fingers itched for a cigarette.
*
The crinoline was kind of scratchy around the exposed parts of Gerard's thighs and he kept shifting around in the car, which kept making his thighs rub together, which kept giving him a bit of a boner under all the skirt he was wearing. He suppressed the stupid giggles that were trying to overwhelm him, and wondered if it'd been a good idea at all to do this drag thing, like, how was he going to get through the night if just the ride over was driving him crazy?
He wondered what Frank was dressing up as - he wouldn't tell Gerard, because Gerard wouldn't tell him - and felt his cheeks flushing at the thought of Frank seeing him like this. By the time Mikey pulled the car over and parked, almost hitting the curb as per usual, Gerard was all nerve endings and short circuits. His skin felt like it was zapping at each rustle of the crinoline.
The party was in pretty full swing when they came in. The first person they spotted among the crowd was Bob, because his Viking hat was kind of hard to miss. His beard was all overgrown to fit the part, which Gerard knew he'd been working on for weeks. Bob appeared in full-on partying mode, apparently two-fisting Bud, and it took Gerard a while to spot Frank wrapped around his neck behind the helmet like a deformed growth.
"Uh," was all that Gerard could manage, because. Frank was wearing a white button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, bright tats on display, a dark grey vest, a tie, dark grey pants and a freaking fedora. A cigarette dangled from his grinning lips.
Even clinging to Bob's neck, his feet hitting Bob's chest, he looked fucking good enough to eat, like always, only - more, and different, and a little bit dangerous. Gerard bit his lip, tasting his berry lipstick, and tried not to stare, which was stupid, because it was Frank and they were friends, but oh; he wasn't quite feeling himself tonight.
Gerard turned to Mikey for safety, because Frank hadn't spotted them yet and Gerard was just a little too wound up, but Mikey had already disappeared. Gerard assumed he was already in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. In fact, that sounded like an awesome idea, so he followed suit.
There was a ton of people at the house already, because Halloween actually falling on a weekend was a rare thing and to be taken advantage of, and he was jostled from all sides. He passed two zombies and at least three slutty nurses in the hall, thinking he recognized one nurse from his Western Civ class. He watched as she gave him a look, something between do I know you? and there's something off about you but I haven't quite put my finger on it yet. It made him feel braver, more confident and in tune, so he gave her a tiny prim smile, just to keep her guessing.
The most easily accessible beverage was beer, as expected, and Gerard grabbed a can of Heineken, almost sad that he couldn't be holding something classier, like a gin & tonic, or a martini. But beer was beer, and Gerard used it for extra courage as he made his way back to the swell of the action.
He felt almost like he was wearing a mask, because even though make-up was sometimes enough to make him look like a completely different person, a dress and heels is what really compounded the difference. The heels were a bit hard to walk in, but the arch they gave his back, and the way his thighs and ass clenched when he took a step kind of made it worth it. Made him feel powerful, not just literally taller, but in his mind, he felt graceful and at ease as he surveyed the scene in front of him.
He spotted Ray's hair in the very back corner and tried to elbow his way towards him without losing track of his drink or his ankles, because ease or no, he wasn’t really used to this. By the time he reached Ray, Gerard felt a little sweaty and disheveled, so he handed Ray the can without looking and spent a few moments patting his hair back into place.
When he reached over to grab the drink back, he almost screamed and lost his balance.
"What the fuck?!"
It was Ray, all right, only now it was more like Toro the Clown, and the scariest thing Gerard had ever seen in his motherfucking life. It looked like Ray was smiling at him, because Gerard could see all of his teeth on display, but it looked, like, grotesque under all the make-up. Grotesque and, once he got over the initial shock, supremely awesome.
"Dude," Gerard whispered once he regained his equilibrium and assessed the mental patient combination of Iron Maiden shirt coupled with stained clown pants. "That is, like, the most perfect look for you, ever." Then he thought about it, and amended, "For Halloween. Not for, like, always."
Ray brayed his donkey laugh and possibly winked. It was a little difficult to tell. "Thanks, Gee! And, you know, ditto." The sweep of Ray’s hand was incredibly descriptive.
Gerard preened, patting down his front and poufing out his skirt a little. "You think?"
"Well, yeah. You're basically a girl already," Ray explained seriously. "Although you're a bit flat-chested, sorry, Gee."
Gerard looked down. It was true, he hadn't actually bothered with much stuffing in the chest area, wearing a padded bra with nothing underneath. He thought it looked more natural that way. He always believed that if he'd been born a girl, he'd have been pretty flat, even though his ex had assured him that she'd have pegged him for a C-cup. Gerard liked small boobs.
"Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect," he replied, and settled himself against the wall, toe beating out the rhythm of the song. Balancing on the heels made the tapping a lot more satisfying somehow. "This music fucking sucks, huh?"
"Yeah, shitty techno is worse than country," Ray agreed, and they both hummed a few predictable bars together before realizing it and pretending like it never happened. Gerard sipped his beer and vaguely watched the room for any signs of Bob, Frank, or Mikey.
"Gerard? Gerard Way?"
Gerard turned his head enough to see Gabe from Advanced Sculpture saunter up to him, hips first, and before he knew it, Gabe's slinky fingers were wrapped around his waist. Gerard blinked. "Yes?"
"Looking good, Gee Way," Gabe purred in his ear - no, really. He purred in Gerard's ear, and Gerard could only raise his eyebrows and try to inch away, attempting to parse out the meaning of the sudden onslaught. He could see Ray shaking with laughter out of the corner of his eye.
Gabe watched him through hooded eyes, and Gerard was patient up until the moment Gabe leaned down to sniff at his neck, at which point he gave up and pushed Gabe away from him with a strategically placed elbow to the rib.
"What the fuck, Saporta?" he asked, ready to whip off the heels as a weapon at a moment's notice. Gabe rubbed distractedly at his side and peered down at Gerard with a pout.
"I just thought you looked real pretty, was all. Can't a boy meet a girl and enjoy her company nowadays?"
Gerard rolled his eyes. "We've met, Gabe." He felt the need to point this out, because Gabe was the sort of dude who had a difficult time buying clues on his own.
"Aww, but not like this," Gabe leered and settled his hips against the wall like he meant to stay a while. "You're all - hot and shit."
Gerard knew that, but Gabe wasn't the person he'd had in mind when getting dressed up tonight. Not that he'd really had anyone in mind, per se, which was a lie he was willing to feed himself, but getting accosted by Creepy Gabe was low on Gerard's totem pole of things to experience. He sighed and pushed hair out of his eyes.
"You know I still have a dick, right?"
"Oh, yeah? What color panties are you wearing?" Gabe leaned down and started to tug at the folds of Gerard's skirt when Gerard slapped his hand as hard as he could manage.
"That wasn't an invitation," he sighed once Gabe managed to actually drag his hands back to his own pockets.
"Too bad," Gabe shrugged, then slanted his gaze. "Wanna dance?"
"Holy shit."
Gerard spun around. Frank was less than a foot away from them, watching Gerard like he had no idea who he was. Gerard felt his stomach drop down to this toes and swallowed. It was like everything - Ray and his horribly amazing clown face, Gabe and his grabby hands, the room and the music, all of it - receded into the background. It was a total movie moment, and that was fitting, Gerard thought crazily, because he was wearing pearls and patent leather heels.
"Hey, Frankie," he managed and attempted to stand up straighter and slap Gabe's hand away from his tit at the same time. Frank looked - really good in mobster gear. Crisp and lean, and he stood differently, too, relaxed from the hips down. "Happy Birthday," Gerard managed to choke out.
Frank, who had been looking somewhere in the vicinity of Gerard's throat, snapped his gaze up to Gerard's face and gave him a bright smile. "Thanks, Gee!" Then he waved a hand between them, probably intended to summarize Gerard's entire look. "Nice, uh. Nice costume."
"Thanks!" Gerard replied as easily as he could manage, with Frank's gaze skittering all over him. His stomach fluttered like he was a fourteen year old girl. "You, uh, you, too."
Frank slipped his hands into his pockets all nonchalant, and shrugged. "Thanks. Got kinda tired of Freddie."
"Me, too," Gerard said quickly, then amended it with, "I mean, of, like, vampires and shit. Not of me as Freddie. Or, I mean, you as Freddie. I mean, uh." He forced himself to shut up. Why was he so awkward? Sure, he was pretty awkward as a general rule, but not this awkward, and not generally around Frank. For crying out loud, it was a party. Then again, he'd just spent five minutes fending a drunk Gabe Saporta away from his person, so he supposed everything was a bit tilted tonight.
Frank barely seemed to notice his awkwardness, though, which was helpful. "Well, this is different from vampires," he said, and was, like, quiet. Way too quiet for Frank, especially Frank at a Halloween bash.
Gerard looked down at himself. "Yeah," he admitted. The black dress and the vintage pearls were a far cry from the capes with cigarette burns and the worn black jeans, which had been easier to put together than Mikey's scene kid costume. He didn't know how he felt in the dress anymore, it was like a second skin, but somebody else's, on him. He was still himself underneath it.
"Okay, it is getting a little too girly and awkward around here, so I'm gonna skedaddle," Gabe announced behind them, and Gerard jumped, because he'd almost forgotten about his existence. When he turned around to look, Gabe was already towering over the party crowd, yelling, "Where is my boy? I got a dick needs a grinding, Mikeyway! I see you behind that broom, young man!"
Gerard's sigh of relief was interrupted by Gabe's hand landing in the vicinity of Gerard's ass and squeezing. "See ya, hot stuff," Gabe muttered when Gerard managed to shove him off.
"Oh my God, go away," Gerard begged, then instantly felt bad, because Mikey was clearly hiding from Gabe, but at least he was a pro at evasion by now. Watching Gabe stalk away, Gerard was mostly sure Mikey'd be fine. When he turned back to Frank and Ray, they were already in full-on bitch fest about the shitty music, and that was another relief, because Gerard could just fiddle with his empty and nod along and not think about the way Frank's voice sounded when he'd first spotted Gerard in drag.
"Think they'd let me slip them some Misfits?" Frank mused, nodding his head towards the computer/speakers rig-up.
"Do you just carry that shit around with you everywhere you go?" Ray asked him, his clown 'fro shaking in amusement.
"Duh!" Frank held up a flash drive, and looked at Ray like he was crazy. "You never know when you're gonna need to convert." Gerard noticed that Frank had said nothing about Ray's fucking crazy face. "Besides, it's Halloween. You can't have Halloween without Danzig."
"True," Ray agreed. "Or Zevon. It isn't Halloween without Zevon."
"Or Nightmare Before Christmas," Frank mused.
"It isn't Christmas without Nightmare, not Halloween," Gerard pointed out, and Frank forestalled him with a hand.
"It's called pre-gaming for the holiday season, Gee. You can start the season off right with Jack and Sally, and then by the time you get to Christmas, you can rewatch Nightmare and have it be timely again, you get me? There's a whole -" Frank waved his smoke expansively, "System. There's a system."
Gerard opened his mouth to rebuff and explain how you couldn't just cheat your way through the holiday movie compendium, when Ray interrupted by humming the first few bars of "Werewolves of London" seemingly at no one.
"You're a loser," Frank pointed at him with a cigarette, and Ray announced that he wasn't the one who had a chart and a timeline of holiday movie watching, because he wasn't the one who was twelve.
"You spend your birthday with a strange crowd of men, Iero," Bob announced as he sidled up to them with his Bud and a DVD-shaped package. "Here, meant to give this to you earlier, monkeyboy."
"Bob Bryar, you are a man after my own heart!" Frank crowed and ripped into the package like he was a kid on Christmas morning. "Dude," Frank whispered reverently as the PS3 version of Army of Two came into view. "I've wanted this forever!"
Bob shrugged and drank his beer. "I know."
Gerard bit his lip. He hadn't realized they'd be giving Frank his presents at the party. "Shit, Frankie, I don't have your present," he mumbled. "I mean, I have it, but it isn't done yet. I'll have it for you like, before Christmas." He thought about how the Frank O'Lantern was still in its lump of clay inception, barely even anything. "Uh, maybe. It's amazing, though, it's this -"
"Gee!" Frank stopped Gerard talking with a raised hand. "Don't fucking tell me, man, it has to be a surprise." Gerard blinked at him. "And it's fine. Seriously, you're - you're fine."
Gerard watched as Frank turned away, biting his lip, the game clutched between his hands. "Shit, I have no place to store this," he fretted and turned back and forth, trying to find a safe nook to keep his gift. Gerard hadn't even bothered with a purse, so he was no help, but these were the times you were especially happy to call Ray Toro your friend.
"Give it here," Ray said, making a grabby gesture with his hands, and slipped the DVD case into his clown pants. Gerard had to admire that kind of resourcefulness. At the moment, he barely had a place for his pack of smokes, and he'd rather not show that to the entire campus.
Frank had to turn Ray around and pat him down and do all kinds of things that involved his hands and Ray's ass in order to make sure the DVD wouldn’t fall out by accident until Ray shoved him away and gave him a noogie for good measure. Gerard had to really work at not feeling too jealous, because Frank's hands looked really good when they were touching someone, and Gerard's skin buzzed with how much it wanted to be touched. Of course, he didn't want to give Frank a noogie.
"Looking good, Gee," Bob noted, his eyes not straying below Gerard's face. Bob was the coolest guy Gerard knew.
"Thanks, Bob," Gerard smiled back and shook his empty at them. "I'm going for a refill. Don't have too much fun without me."
Between his pinched feet and trying to avoid the creepy and obnoxious shadow of Gabe pawing at some poor Mike Myers in the corner, walking through the crowd was getting increasingly difficult. By the time he got to the kitchen, Gerard was so deeply in need of a drink, he grabbed the last two floating cans of Bud from the cooler and decided he needed a smoke.
He'd seen a screen door at some point in his path, so he doubled back and made his winding way towards it. The door got stuck a few times, but he managed to wrestle it open eventually, and only dared to lift up the skirt and grab the pack of smokes from the stockings when he was safely out of view.
He smoked, and he drank, and he watched the stars wink at him from the clear night sky. His mind was a-buzz with the pounding bass beat coming from the inside the house, the unfamiliar feeling of cool air on his bare thighs, the appraising looks he'd been getting from everyone he knew and didn't as he walked around wearing this bizarre second skin. But most of all, he thought of how Frank's crisp white shirt tugged at his shoulders under the vest, the loosened tie at his throat, and slick color of his ink, looking strangely foreign against the mobster gear.
Mikey found him when he was almost down to the filter.
"You hiding, Gee?" he asked after Gerard had wordlessly extended him a smoke.
"You?" Gerard countered instead of answering, because he was pretty sure they were both equal losers, though he suspected that to not be the strict truth.
Mikey shrugged and squinted up at the sky. "Pete didn't show."
So, not hiding, just moping, then. Gerard made a sympathetic face at him and offered his second Bud as consolation. Mikey wrinkled his nose and refused with a shake of his head. "Thanks, though."
"No problem," Gerard sighed, popping it open and taking a sip. "Oh, hey," he asked, looking at Mikey askance, and trying for casual. "Did Gabe already find you?"
Mikey shuddered visibly and shook his head. "Yeah, at first, but I got away." Mikey peered at Gerard from behind his glasses. "Why, did he find you?"
Gerard wrinkled his nose. "God, he is such a creep. I swear, you dress up as a girl in front of him one time." Gerard broke off and shook his head. "Saporta at a party is, like, a hundred thousand times worse than Saporta in class."
Mikey made a non-committal noise. He'd never had a class with Gabe. "No, seriously. He makes dicks out of clay," Gerard explained. "And then he, like, fellates them whenever you even glance in his direction."
Mikey's shoulders shook, and when Gerard turned to look, he was totally laughing. "It's not funny! It's incredibly disruptive," he complained, not even bothering to hide it. He didn't even tell Mikey about the time Gabe molded his own dick in the middle of somebody else's presentation.
"You really do look awesome," Mikey said after he'd stopped laughing at Gerard's pain. The switch in gears threw Gerard a little. "Very retro."
"Oh, yeah?" He asked, pleased despite himself, and fluttered his eyelashes. "Do I make a pretty sister?"
Mikey gave him a quick sliver of a grin. "Frank better watch out for my shotgun, is all I can say."
"Hmm?" Gerard tried sounding blasé and not at all eager to find out why Frank, of all people, should avoid Mikey's wrath, but Mikey knew it all anyway. He rolled his eyes at Gerard and ashed onto the ground.
"Oh, c'mon, he's been looking all over for you. 'Have you seen Gee?'" Mikey squeaked, apparently imitating Frank. "'Where'd Gerard get off to?'"
Gerard didn't think he'd been gone that long, but then he did have a tendency to get lost when the stars came out. His heart pounded kind of hard. "Did he say, you know, why, or -"
"Gee, come on." Mikey sounded almost impatient, which was pretty damn unusual for him. Pete hadn't called or texted in a week, Gerard knew, and in Pete time, that was practically a decade. He could pretend not to see Mikey climbing the walls, but neither of them was fooled. "Just fucking - find him. I don't know. He's acting extra annoying tonight."
Gerard could only pretend so far, but of course he wanted to find Frank. Mikey sounded like he maybe knew more than he was saying, but he also sounded like asking for more was a really bad idea right now. Gerard would have to track Pete down at some point and give him a good thrashing. At least until Pete socked him in the face, because that was a pretty easy move to pull on Gerard. He was no Bob Bryar. But it was the thought that counted, anyway.
"So, like, how are you? Are you -"
"Oh my God, Gee, just fucking go already," Mikey interrupted and pushed his bony elbow into Gerard's side. Gerard almost fell off his heels. "Go give him a birthday present, or whatever."
Gerard couldn't hide the stupid grin on his face, or the fact that he was in the door and looking for Frank in his mind already. "Okay. Okay, thanks, Mikes. See you later?"
Mikey didn't even bother answering, just ducked into the shadows when Gerard dumped the empties in the trash, left his cigarette to smolder in the ashtray, and slipped back inside.
He walked in on a rowdy-looking game of Go Fish taking place at the kitchen table where the more popular way of declining cards seemed to be shouts of "Go fuck yourself, dickwad!" and walked past the slutty Dorothies out into the hallway.
Before he could even process it, there was a sudden tugging on his arm, and Gerard was seriously this close to whipping off his shoes and beating Gabe senseless, when he realized it wasn't Gabe at all. Frank clutched at Gerard's arm and was leading him away to a darkened hallway, then pressing Gerard up against a wall, all shifty fingers and crowding feet.
"Frank, what?" Gerard started, but Frank's finger on his lips stopped him. Gerard watched him appear in front of him out of the darkness, in outlines and shadows and warmth and pressure. He kind of stopped breathing for a moment. Frank's eyes looked huge, and even though Gerard towered over him in his heels, he felt completely overwhelmed by Frank for that one drawn out moment.
"Jesus, Gee, where did you fucking go," was all Frank whispered before crushing his mouth to Gerard's and Gerard gave up all questions.
He opened his mouth under Frank's, slid his tongue between Frank's lips, and pulled him bodily in. Frank's mouth tasted like beer and cigarettes and like that particular taste, like nothing else on earth, of somebody kissing the fuck out of you. If Gerard's eyes hadn't closed of their own accord, he's pretty sure they would have rolled to the back of his head.
Frank moaned against his mouth in one continuous humming wave, and Gerard moaned in answer, like a release. He pulled Frank in by the hips, and even through the layers of fabric around his crotch, he felt Frank's hard dick right there, against his own.
Gerard broke off, mouth sucking in air like a fish out of water, and started to maybe say something, though he wasn't sure what. Frank took the opportunity to drag his wet mouth down Gerard's neck, then bite it, lightly at first, getting harder the further he went, then lick it clean. Gerard shuddered against him, panting and so ridiculously hard, he thought he might actually come just from this. The air around them was a mix of Gerard's perfume and Frank's sweat. Gerard gulped through the pressure.
"Fra - Frank," he panted, eyes squeezing shut, his lashes dry from the mascara. "Frankie, what -"
"Later, shut up now, Gee," Frank mumbled against his neck, and Gerard felt almost hurt for a second, because maybe they really should talk about this or something. But then Frank's hand dipped lower and grabbed Gerard's ass through the skirts, and Gerard thought, fuck it. Talking was overrated. Instead, he moaned and thrust against Frank's hip, seeking enough friction to just, oh God, get him off already. He was so turned on, he could barely breathe.
Frank's fingers tightened on his ass and Gerard whimpered, actually fucking whimpered, and barely heard Frank's quick gasp. Gerard's hands clutched at Frank's back, he couldn't get close enough, he was fucking dying, and Frank was now just rutting against him, his slacks-covered dick lined up between Gerard's thighs, and not giving Gerard enough friction for anything at all, and it was crazy and overwhelming, and Gerard tried to claw his way out of his brain for control.
"Frank, Frank, wait -" he managed to whisper, and his tongue and throat were dry, so dry from all the air he couldn't quite get into his lungs. He wanted more. He wanted to drag Frank into the nearest room and bend over for him, or blow him, or - anything, anything at all that wasn't just this too-much-and-not-enough humping they were doing.
When Frank broke off from biting Gerard's neck and licking the dampness under the string of pearls, his eyes looked unfocused and glassy, his mouth wet, and Gerard had to swallow a few times. Then he proceeded to forget what he'd been meaning to say, because Frank slowly slid his hands over the folds of Gerard's skirt and petticoat, then ducked down a little so he could slip them up and inside and oh holy fucking fuck, over Gerard's stocking thighs and then -
Gerard bit his lip and watched the dawning on Frank's face, his eyes growing huge in the dark, just the hint of his tongue peeking out between slackened lips.
Frank's fingers ran up again over where the stockings ended and splayed over the back of Gerard's naked thigh. Neither of them breathed for one long moment. Then Frank licked his lips.
"Gee." His voice was hoarse and quiet in the darkness. Gerard could hear the rest of the party as if through a bubble in the space/time continuum.
"Yeah?" His own voice was kind of wrecked and his entire body thrummed, waiting to drop off the edge of reality. Frank's fingers didn't move away from his thigh.
"You're wearing stockings," Frank said, like he wanted this confirmed for the eleven o'clock news.
Gerard gave him a shaky nod.
"I -" Frank stuttered off into silence. "And you've got your cigarettes tucked into your garter belt."
Gerard couldn't deny that, either. "It was the only place I could keep them," he explained. He licked his lips. His lipstick was still there. He'd gotten the expensive kind.
Frank's eyes slid shut, eyebrows drawn. "Gee. You're a fucking - I - Jesus Christ, Gerard."
Gerard didn't know what that meant. He guessed it was a good thing, but they'd never - he never thought he'd get to kiss Frank. He wanted Frank to keep talking, and he wanted Frank to keep kissing him, and he just really, really wanted Frank to get naked with him. "Yeah?"
"Gerard," Frank started, then stopped, his voice snagging on the syllables. Gerard watched Frank's Adam's apple move under his slick skin, and Frank’s voice was hoarse when he added, "Gee, if I don't fuck you right now, I'm going to die. Basically."
"Oh," Gerard breathed, and then repeated the words in his mind, and then he whimpered. The answer was "yes, yes, yes," and "please," and "anytime from now until the end of time, if you could," but he had no idea where they could go, no idea if there was an empty bedroom somewhere, if there was even a lock on any of the bedroom doors, and then it hit him. He was a genius. "Bathroom," he whispered roughly. "Back bathroom, right now."
Frank's hands were out of Gerard's skirt and gripping his waist in one second flat, directing him deeper into the hallway, through the door into the darkness of the blissfully free bathroom. There was a single night light plugged into the wall, and neither one of them bothered with the overhead, because now there was a door, and a lock, and that was fucking it.
Gerard's back hit the back of the door with a thump when Frank threw him up against it, hands like vises around his waist. He had never realized how huge Frank's hands were, but maybe that was the boning on the dress making Gerard's waist seem smaller in comparison. He could probably also blame the boning on why he could only breathe in shallow bursts, but maybe not, with the way Frank was eating him up with his gaze.
"Fuck, Gerard, you have no fucking idea," Frank leaned in, whispering the words right into Gerard's ear, making Gerard literally weak in the knees. He hadn't even known that was physically possible. "No fucking idea what you look like." Frank's hands spread all around Gerard's ribcage, his thumbs hot presses in the middle. Gerard threw his head back and it thudded against the door.
"What… what do I look like, Frankie?" he asked and his voice was strained, the angle of his neck making it difficult to talk right. He was still having trouble breathing, too, and his thighs were starting to shake from wearing the heels all night long, and the weight of Frank all around him.
"You look like a fucking - movie star, but - oh my God, so much hotter," Frank rasped and punctuated it with a bite at the crook of Gerard's neck, taking the pearls with him. Gerard hadn't been expecting that comparison, and laughed despite himself.
"What, like, Greta Garbo or something?" he panted.
He felt Frank shaking his head, and his sweaty hair brushed against Gerard's ear and mouth. "No - yeah - I don't know, just…Jesus Christ, I have to - please, God, let me fuck you?" Frank drew back enough to meet Gerard's gaze, and it was so fucking strange, to be so much taller, and wearing a skirt and fucking high-heeled shoes, standing there plastered up against Frank. Frank, who was sweating through his three-piece, and - it was like they were in a fucking classic black-and-white, only all upside down and distorted, two dicks instead of one, dirtier, hotter, better.
"Gee?" Frank asked again, and then his hands loosened around Gerard's waist, and he was stepping back, and - what? Why? Then Gerard remembered that Frank had asked him, actually fucking asked him for permission to fuck him, and Gerard hadn't actually said "yes" yet.
He reached out quickly and reeled Frank in by his damp cotton sleeves. "Fuck yes," he breathed, briefly wondering if he actually did look and sound ridiculous and Frank just couldn't tell in the low light of the bathroom. But Frank gave him a dark look, his eyes all liquid pupils now, and crushed their mouths together.
That was good enough for Gerard. He moaned, slipped Frank his tongue, fucking licked him all around, and Jesus, Frank tasted so fucking good, the cheap beer taste all but gone now, replaced by the taste of their tongues and the cherry red of Gerard's lipstick. Frank pushed him harder up against the wall and then his hands were fighting against the many layers of Gerard's skirt and crinoline and Gerard felt them on his thighs, dry against the material of his stockings.
"Fuck," Frank breathed against his mouth, "Jesus Christ, do you have any idea how fucking hot that is?" His hands slid further up and slipped under the garter belt, touching skin.
Gerard just watched him, not bothering to answer, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and tried to remember his own name. Frank held onto Gerard's ass with one hand, and raised the other to Gerard's neck, caressing it lightly with his thumb, then sliding it up to his jaw, Gerard's sweat between their skin. Frank didn't waver from his gaze as he skated his hand over to Gerard's mouth and just - touched Gerard's lips with his thumb, slow and light and teasing. Gerard opened up automatically and let Frank slip it inside. He caught it in his teeth, licked the rough salty skin, pushed against it with his tongue. Frank gasped and pressed down over Gerard's teeth, and Gerard relaxed his hold. The finger slipped out and then Frank dragged it slowly, deliberately over Gerard's lower lip. Gerard felt the drag of lipstick smear across his cheek.
His dick throbbed. He lolled his head against the door and tried to swallow around the strain of holding back, holding everything in. "Frank," he finally managed. "If you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to fucking do it myself." With his fingers. While Frank watched.
Frank's hips snapped up against Gerard's. "I don't fucking think so," he answered, his voice hitching and rising. Then he slid to his knees.
His hands were immediately all over Gerard's legs, catching on his calves, rising up over his knees and against the tender insides of Gerard's thighs. Gerard couldn't see him under all the material, he could only feel and hear, and by the time Frank reached Gerard's hips, Gerard was a quivering fucking mess.
“How do you - can you get these off?" Frank asked and tugged on Gerard's briefs. Gerard was suddenly more grateful than he could even say that Amanda from Social Psych had explained to him the rookie mistake of wearing one's underwear under the garter belt, instead of over -
"You wanna be able to pee and whatnot, you know? Plus," and here she'd sent a wisp of smoke floating in Gerard's direction, "you never know when else you might need those things off in a hurry."
"Yeah," he ground out. "Just - just tug on 'em."
Frank did. Gerard spread his legs, abandoned embarrassment for heat, and when Frank's hands reached Gerard's feet, he lifted one after the other and stepped out. One heel got caught in the fabric and Frank carefully held onto Gerard's ankle to free it. Gerard swallowed. He could hear the muffled thudding of a bass line behind the closed door. He could hear them both breathing.
Then, without warning, Frank gripped Gerard's leg and hoisted it up over his own shoulder, spreading him open. Gerard felt his heel dig into Frank's back, felt the drag of their contact shoot sparks up his entire body.
"Shit." He tried to shift the fabric so he could actually see Frank beneath it all, trying to tuck it around his head and shoulders. But before he could manage to rearrange all the folds, Gerard's cock was enveloped in sudden wet heat of Frank's mouth, and he gasped, so loudly, he was afraid somebody had heard him.
"Fuck, Jesus, oh my God - " The uneven string of curses whooshed out of his throat and he couldn't even hold it back. Frank wasn't messing around, he wasn't teasing, and Gerard felt his knees melt out from under him. He swayed against the door and grabbed Frank's head through the fabric. He was pinned in place by Frank's hands on his hips, and Frank's mouth on his cock, and he snapped for air, held on as hard as he could.
Frank turned out to be a seriously enthusiastic cock-sucker and Gerard whined and jerked with each flutter of tongue at the head of his cock. He was kind of disappointed at not being able to see Frank sucking him, and maybe it was better that way. He wasn’t about to miss out on coming with Frank’s dick inside him, and he couldn’t even fucking believe it was in the cards.
When Frank pulled off without warning, Gerard actually heard himself whine.
"Fuck. Frank?" His voice sounded wet and harsh in the darkness. His eyes stung and he blinked several times to get the sting out.
"That's the idea," Frank answered, then lifted Gerard's leg up off his shoulder. Gerard had to take a second to remember how to stand on two unsteady feet. He was shaking, he thought he was going to explode. When Frank finally emerged from under Gerard's skirt, the crinoline bunched and rubbed Gerard's dick to distraction. Gerard gasped and tried to rearrange it, maybe, keep it a little ways away, but Frank's face was flushed dark, and his lips -
"Sorry, I just - really fucking wanted to do that," Frank said, his voice sounding unfamiliar - sexed out, roughed up, and Gerard gave up on his skirt. Instead, he pulled Frank forward by his ridiculous vest, and slid his mouth over Frank's moving lips, licking and biting and it probably barely even counted as a kiss, except that Frank was licking him right back, meeting him halfway with each breath, and Gerard felt the pinch of Frank's fingers all around his ribs, on the small of his back. Gerard's hard-on dragged him forward and down, he was on fucking fire, and the crinoline, Jesus, the crinoline was slowly killing him with friction.
"Gee," Frank whispered between bruising kisses, "Gee, take off the heels, c'mon." His hands tugged on Gerard's waist in time with each breath.
For a short moment, Gerard wondered if taking the shoes off would ruin the illusion; he wondered if the illusion was what Frank wanted from him. For a short moment, Gerard barely breathed.
"Gee, please, please, I want to fuck you so bad," Frank whined and kissed Gerard's jaw, and before Gerard could blink, Frank twisted and turned them until Gerard's ass bumped up against the vanity. His feet pinched, and then he didn't fucking care anymore why they had ended up this way.
He pushed Frank away enough to lean down and pull off the first shoe. He'd forgotten how it felt, not being strapped into tight fake leather, until his foot had been released and he could barely help the groan of mindless pleasure. He felt Frank's hands spasm around him.
It had only been a moment, but he'd felt it all the way down to his toes. Gerard dropped the shoe on the ground and straightened up. The sudden shift in height allowed him to look right into Frank's eyes. He bit his lip, then watched Frank lick his own. He could barely hear any sound over the quick and off-tempo beating of his heart.
"If you take off the other one, you can fuck me," he whispered, watching Frank's face. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting in answer, but Frank's arm darting out to reach behind them wasn't it. He felt stupid and slow and only realized what Frank was doing when Frank guided him sideways a little, barely breaking his hold on Gerard's waist.
Frank fumbled when he slid the mirror over the vanity open. Gerard just watched the wall over his shoulder and listened to the knocking of bottles together, half-praying that Frank would find something good in there.
Finally, he heard the squeaky grind of the mirror being slid home, followed by a dull thump of something being thrown in the sink.
Frank, silent through the search, pulled back to face Gerard fully. Gerard spotted a line of sweat making its way down his cheek, and had to resist the urge to lick it off him.
Frank didn’t say a word when he dropped down on one knee again, and Gerard had to swallow around his dry throat because that was a seriously amazing look on Frank. He tugged Gerard's heeled foot up. Gerard held his breath as the shoe slowly slid off his heel and then was gone completely, a dull thud forgotten on the ground. His breath hitched. He was pretty sure he could have come right there, with barely any incentive from an outside source, and his cock was throbbing as if in confirmation, ready to explode. Gerard gripped the vanity behind him tighter.
Frank set his foot back on the floor with a gentle hand and struggled to his feet. His feet ached with the pressure being released.
Frank grabbed Gerard's waist and twisted him around until Gerard had his back to him. "Gonna fuck you now, Gee," he announced in a rough whisper behind him, before pulling back and undoing his belt.
"Fucking do it already," Gerard answered, and then realized that he hadn't even fucking seen Frank's dick yet. A weird wave of something like possessiveness washed over him, forced him to turn his head, to look. Frank caught his stare and held it as he shoved his pants and boxers down. He was hard as a rock, already leaking through the wings of the shirt. Gerard bit his lip and restrained himself from dropping to his knees and sucking Frank off right there.
Instead, he turned back around and fished the lube out of the sink, tossed it over to Frank without much aim. Frank caught it anyway, and then Gerard had to close his eyes, listening to the sounds of Frank ripping the condom open, slicking himself up.
His heart beat faster. Even with all the prelude, he still couldn't quite grasp the reality of Frank, sidling up from behind, getting ready to fuck him. He gasped when Frank's arm wrapped around his middle and pulled him back, rough enough to make a fucking writhing mess of need out of Gerard.
"Do you need my fingers?" Frank asked, and another time, maybe, a time when they could be on a bed and have hours for this, Gerard would want Frank's fingers, but -
"No, I - I like it like this," he confessed, his stupid face flaming hot. In for a penny… "Fuck me, Frankie," he begged and allowed his head to fall forward, waiting.
Frank sighed behind him, kissed Gerard's neck with wet lips. The moment stretched into eternity until the blunt tip of Frank's cock pressed against him and then slowly slid inside. Gerard gasped around the burn and the fullness of it. Frank seemed to take Gerard at his word, when he pulled almost all the way out and slowly thrust back in, and Gerard's spine arched and he cried out, his body sparking and zapping, and then they were going, oh Christ, they were fucking. Frank drove into him steady and hard, rough and precise, every thrust sending Gerard's nerve-endings to near-explosions. The crinoline rubbed at Gerard’s dick continuously and he pawed at his skirts, pulled and shoved at the material until he'd tugged it all the way up and across the sink, away from his over-sensitized skin.
Frank kept fucking him through it, and it felt like he was being melted from the inside out. Gerard thrust against him, gave it to him, again and again and again.
"Gee," Frank whispered in his ear, and Gerard shuddered at the closeness, his hot breath. "Gee, open your eyes," he commanded, and Gerard had no idea that he'd even closed them. His vision was blurred when he did as he was told, and he looked at the chipped sink, the dull metal of the drain, and didn't understand, until -
"Look up, Gee. Look," Frank repeated and kept on fucking him, his hands gripping Gerard in place.
Gerard didn't want to look, and only lifted his head when Frank's fingers under his chin had forced him.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Frank breathed in his ear, and Gerard saw himself then - smudged eyeliner overwhelming his eyes, making them look huge and half-crazy; a smear of raw red across his cheek; his hair limp and sweaty over his forehead; pearls shifting in the light with each thrust.
He quickly looked past himself and caught Frank's gaze in the reflection. Frank looked a mess, panting, with his hair askew and plastered to his forehead, pupils blown and dark where he held Gerard's gaze for the next thrust, and Gerard's hands slipped against the sink; he couldn't look away from Frank's face in the mirror where Frank, still watching, brought his mouth to tug on Gerard's earlobe, and -
Gerard couldn't look anymore, his synapses firing so fast, he didn't think he could keep up. Frank was overwhelming, he was everywhere - around him, behind him, right there in front of him - fucking and watching and gasping, and Gerard was so close, he was so fucking close - Frank was moaning in his ear, whimpering -
Gerard fumbled one hand under his skirt, pushed past all the fabric in his way, Jesus, why had he fucking even worn this ridiculous fucking dress - until his hand finally got to his leaking dick, and he gripped himself, whimpered in sheer relief and heat of it, stroking hard and fast. When he looked back up at Frank's face in the mirror, Frank's eyes were closed, eyebrows creased like he was in pain, wet mouth open around a silent gasp. Gerard's knees melted beneath him, everything collided around him, spiked up to unbearable, and he was coming. He shot all over his hand and his skirt and he couldn't stop, he pulsed for what felt like full minutes in which he floated over a cliff and fell, and fell, and fell. He heard his own voice crying out through the pounding in his ears.
Frank's hips stuttered against him and the next moment, Gerard felt Frank coming inside him, stretching him even wider, wider than he could take, and then he couldn't take it at all, it crushed him and he shook and fell forward, almost braining himself on the mirror.
"Fuck," Frank swore and one of his hands flew up to anchor them against the cabinet. "Oh, fucking fuck me," he swore again, softer this time. His voice was muffled, tickling against Gerard’s hair.
Gerard tried to answer in some way, but his throat was dry and his tongue wouldn't work. Instead he shifted a little under Frank, who got the hint and after some fumbling, slowly slipped out. Gerard slumped down in relief. He was going to feel that tomorrow. Possibly even tonight.
He stood there panting and pulling his skirt back down over himself while Frank fumbled behind him. The slap of the condom in the trash can kind of shook him out of it, and Gerard attempted to turn around. His thighs burned like he'd run a fucking marathon, and even the barest hint of contact between his dick and his come-stained skirt was sending confused shivers down his legs. He groaned, and then Frank was right there, pushing him back up against the sink.
"Gee, you okay?" His face was so close, his eyebrows creased in concern. Gerard's chest felt full of something cottony, and he thought he might laugh, or maybe crumple, and he didn't even know why. Instead, he nodded and gave Frank a small grin.
"I'm good," he managed. And he was - really fucking good. "I just need -" He made a vague gesture in the direction of his briefs, and Frank grinned and bent down to grab them like a gentleman.
While Gerard struggled to pull his underwear on around the sticky mess on the crinoline and not look like an idiot, Frank just - stood back and grinned at him. He seemed to slip bravado back on like a jacket, and Gerard had always kind of marveled at that, how easily Frank could slide in and out of moods like it was nothing, even when he was sweaty and fucked out like this, tie askew, vest rumpled, white button-down practically see-through.
"Good," Frank finally said, and stepped forward, hands falling on the sink and bracketing Gerard between them. "I'm good, too."
Gerard quirked an eyebrow, trying to shift his briefs surreptitiously, plucking his dress into some semblance of order. "Yeah?"
Frank leaned in even closer. His eyes zoned in on Gerard's mouth. "Yeah. Never better."
It was such a line, and definitely a lie, but Gerard knew what he meant. Hoped he knew, anyway. He cleared his throat, licked his dry lips. "What, never had a better fuck?" His heart pounded hard despite himself. He was so fucking gone.
Frank bit his lip and looked Gerard in the eye this time. "Fuck no. Not ever." That didn't sound like a line. It didn't sound like a lie, either, and Gerard knew from Frank's lies. His heart beat even harder.
One good turn deserved another, and he forced himself to lay it out. "Not me, either."
"Gee." Frank's breath puffed against Gerard's lips, and he sounded urgent when he said, "Gee, tell me - tell me you got this. You finally got this."
"Huh?" Frank's lips were shiny, and Gerard's palms were damp. He couldn't look away from Frank's face. He felt sluggish and dumb.
"Us, me, you and me, this fucking - this thing -" Frank broke off and ran a hand through his hair. His arms were slick with sweat, tattoos splotches of winding ink.
Gerard's brain caught up with Frank's words, and before another thought could delay him, he grabbed Frank's hand in his own.
"Why tonight, though?" he demanded, because. Because something was still missing. "Is it because - is it this?" He swept his free hand down his front, encompassing the dress and the stockings and the discarded heels.
Frank quirked his lips and laughed, open and bright. "Because you're the hottest not-girl on the planet, Gerard. You're also slow as fuck, and I couldn't wait for you to catch up anymore. I -" Frank ducked his head, biting his lip, leaving it shiny. "You're really dumb, you know that?" he finally asked and looked at Gerard through his eyelashes. The slow spread of his lips was mesmerizing, and Gerard could never resist Frank's smiles. He grinned slowly back.
"So it's not because I look like a girl?"
Frank shook his head slowly, like he was doing it solely for Gerard's benefit. "No. It's because you're the hottest guy who also happens to look like a really hot girl on occasion and wear a fucking garter belt."
Gerard untangled this. There seemed to be no bad. There seemed to be no bad at all. Gerard really loved his garter belt.
"Do you wanna blow this popsicle stand?" He asked in what he hoped was a decent Greta Garbo or whatever impression, because things were pretty damn clear now. He thought he could flutter away, he was lighter than air.
Frank slanted his lips, pretended to blow smoke out of the side of his mouth and replied, "You bet your sweet ass, shweetheart." His Bogart could use a little work, Gerard decided, and pushed off the sink right into Frank's space. He tugged on his tie, brought their lips within an inch of each other, and whispered, "Let's fucking go. This dress is giving me another hard-on."
"You and me both, baby," Frank giggled and closed the distance between them with a kiss. Gerard closed his eyes, deepened it, maybe got a little lost.
When Frank pulled back, he bit his own lip and whispered, "Happy birthday to me."
Gerard snickered and leaned back in. "You bet."
~end~
Fandom: MCR
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Summary: Gerard steps out in heels for Halloween. Everybody enjoys it. Some enjoy it more than others. (college AU; ~8900 words; NC-17)
Notes: This started out as a ficlet for aneli8. Of Gerard in drag. About a month ago. It has since grown a mind of its own, and now it's a party. *hands* I DO NOT KNOW BREVITY, OKAY. BLOW ME. (With thanks to Elvis Costello for the title.)
(With many predictable, yet incredibly sincere thanks to brooklinegirl for the beta and the cookies. ♥)
"she (within the measure of a day)"
Gerard had done the drag thing before, so that part was nothing new. But dressing up for a party where people knew you were a guy dressed up as a girl, as opposed to being an anonymous slightly broad-shouldered girl out in the city, was different.
Still, he’d gone all out for this party, because that was what you did when you wanted to impress. The shoes were black patent leather with a beautiful curved high heel, and the pearls were his grandmother's, a single long string that he hung around his neck twice, like a flapper. His dress was black and sleek at the top, three-quarter sleeve, with a poofy skirt down to just below the knee, with crinoline underneath. He'd shaved his legs, which had gone better than the first time he'd tried it, and now his thighs rubbed together in that really nice way all the way at the top, where the stockings didn't reach, held up by a garter belt. His briefs were black and almost like panties, but not. It was a weird turn-on, being a girl of sorts for a night.
When Mikey came to get him, car keys dangling between his fingers, Gerard was just putting the final touches on his make-up, smudging the eye shadow over his eyelids, making it smoky. His lipstick was a deep red, he'd had to go to three different stores to find the perfect shade.
"Well? What do you think?" he asked, watching Mikey’s face in the mirror. Mirror Mikey just grinned and gave him a slightly ironic thumbs-up. He was going as a scene kid. He'd been waiting for Gerard a while.
Gerard shook his hips, feeling stupidly free and self-conscious at the same time, and turned around. "Okay. Ready." His fingers itched for a cigarette.
*
The crinoline was kind of scratchy around the exposed parts of Gerard's thighs and he kept shifting around in the car, which kept making his thighs rub together, which kept giving him a bit of a boner under all the skirt he was wearing. He suppressed the stupid giggles that were trying to overwhelm him, and wondered if it'd been a good idea at all to do this drag thing, like, how was he going to get through the night if just the ride over was driving him crazy?
He wondered what Frank was dressing up as - he wouldn't tell Gerard, because Gerard wouldn't tell him - and felt his cheeks flushing at the thought of Frank seeing him like this. By the time Mikey pulled the car over and parked, almost hitting the curb as per usual, Gerard was all nerve endings and short circuits. His skin felt like it was zapping at each rustle of the crinoline.
The party was in pretty full swing when they came in. The first person they spotted among the crowd was Bob, because his Viking hat was kind of hard to miss. His beard was all overgrown to fit the part, which Gerard knew he'd been working on for weeks. Bob appeared in full-on partying mode, apparently two-fisting Bud, and it took Gerard a while to spot Frank wrapped around his neck behind the helmet like a deformed growth.
"Uh," was all that Gerard could manage, because. Frank was wearing a white button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, bright tats on display, a dark grey vest, a tie, dark grey pants and a freaking fedora. A cigarette dangled from his grinning lips.
Even clinging to Bob's neck, his feet hitting Bob's chest, he looked fucking good enough to eat, like always, only - more, and different, and a little bit dangerous. Gerard bit his lip, tasting his berry lipstick, and tried not to stare, which was stupid, because it was Frank and they were friends, but oh; he wasn't quite feeling himself tonight.
Gerard turned to Mikey for safety, because Frank hadn't spotted them yet and Gerard was just a little too wound up, but Mikey had already disappeared. Gerard assumed he was already in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. In fact, that sounded like an awesome idea, so he followed suit.
There was a ton of people at the house already, because Halloween actually falling on a weekend was a rare thing and to be taken advantage of, and he was jostled from all sides. He passed two zombies and at least three slutty nurses in the hall, thinking he recognized one nurse from his Western Civ class. He watched as she gave him a look, something between do I know you? and there's something off about you but I haven't quite put my finger on it yet. It made him feel braver, more confident and in tune, so he gave her a tiny prim smile, just to keep her guessing.
The most easily accessible beverage was beer, as expected, and Gerard grabbed a can of Heineken, almost sad that he couldn't be holding something classier, like a gin & tonic, or a martini. But beer was beer, and Gerard used it for extra courage as he made his way back to the swell of the action.
He felt almost like he was wearing a mask, because even though make-up was sometimes enough to make him look like a completely different person, a dress and heels is what really compounded the difference. The heels were a bit hard to walk in, but the arch they gave his back, and the way his thighs and ass clenched when he took a step kind of made it worth it. Made him feel powerful, not just literally taller, but in his mind, he felt graceful and at ease as he surveyed the scene in front of him.
He spotted Ray's hair in the very back corner and tried to elbow his way towards him without losing track of his drink or his ankles, because ease or no, he wasn’t really used to this. By the time he reached Ray, Gerard felt a little sweaty and disheveled, so he handed Ray the can without looking and spent a few moments patting his hair back into place.
When he reached over to grab the drink back, he almost screamed and lost his balance.
"What the fuck?!"
It was Ray, all right, only now it was more like Toro the Clown, and the scariest thing Gerard had ever seen in his motherfucking life. It looked like Ray was smiling at him, because Gerard could see all of his teeth on display, but it looked, like, grotesque under all the make-up. Grotesque and, once he got over the initial shock, supremely awesome.
"Dude," Gerard whispered once he regained his equilibrium and assessed the mental patient combination of Iron Maiden shirt coupled with stained clown pants. "That is, like, the most perfect look for you, ever." Then he thought about it, and amended, "For Halloween. Not for, like, always."
Ray brayed his donkey laugh and possibly winked. It was a little difficult to tell. "Thanks, Gee! And, you know, ditto." The sweep of Ray’s hand was incredibly descriptive.
Gerard preened, patting down his front and poufing out his skirt a little. "You think?"
"Well, yeah. You're basically a girl already," Ray explained seriously. "Although you're a bit flat-chested, sorry, Gee."
Gerard looked down. It was true, he hadn't actually bothered with much stuffing in the chest area, wearing a padded bra with nothing underneath. He thought it looked more natural that way. He always believed that if he'd been born a girl, he'd have been pretty flat, even though his ex had assured him that she'd have pegged him for a C-cup. Gerard liked small boobs.
"Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect," he replied, and settled himself against the wall, toe beating out the rhythm of the song. Balancing on the heels made the tapping a lot more satisfying somehow. "This music fucking sucks, huh?"
"Yeah, shitty techno is worse than country," Ray agreed, and they both hummed a few predictable bars together before realizing it and pretending like it never happened. Gerard sipped his beer and vaguely watched the room for any signs of Bob, Frank, or Mikey.
"Gerard? Gerard Way?"
Gerard turned his head enough to see Gabe from Advanced Sculpture saunter up to him, hips first, and before he knew it, Gabe's slinky fingers were wrapped around his waist. Gerard blinked. "Yes?"
"Looking good, Gee Way," Gabe purred in his ear - no, really. He purred in Gerard's ear, and Gerard could only raise his eyebrows and try to inch away, attempting to parse out the meaning of the sudden onslaught. He could see Ray shaking with laughter out of the corner of his eye.
Gabe watched him through hooded eyes, and Gerard was patient up until the moment Gabe leaned down to sniff at his neck, at which point he gave up and pushed Gabe away from him with a strategically placed elbow to the rib.
"What the fuck, Saporta?" he asked, ready to whip off the heels as a weapon at a moment's notice. Gabe rubbed distractedly at his side and peered down at Gerard with a pout.
"I just thought you looked real pretty, was all. Can't a boy meet a girl and enjoy her company nowadays?"
Gerard rolled his eyes. "We've met, Gabe." He felt the need to point this out, because Gabe was the sort of dude who had a difficult time buying clues on his own.
"Aww, but not like this," Gabe leered and settled his hips against the wall like he meant to stay a while. "You're all - hot and shit."
Gerard knew that, but Gabe wasn't the person he'd had in mind when getting dressed up tonight. Not that he'd really had anyone in mind, per se, which was a lie he was willing to feed himself, but getting accosted by Creepy Gabe was low on Gerard's totem pole of things to experience. He sighed and pushed hair out of his eyes.
"You know I still have a dick, right?"
"Oh, yeah? What color panties are you wearing?" Gabe leaned down and started to tug at the folds of Gerard's skirt when Gerard slapped his hand as hard as he could manage.
"That wasn't an invitation," he sighed once Gabe managed to actually drag his hands back to his own pockets.
"Too bad," Gabe shrugged, then slanted his gaze. "Wanna dance?"
"Holy shit."
Gerard spun around. Frank was less than a foot away from them, watching Gerard like he had no idea who he was. Gerard felt his stomach drop down to this toes and swallowed. It was like everything - Ray and his horribly amazing clown face, Gabe and his grabby hands, the room and the music, all of it - receded into the background. It was a total movie moment, and that was fitting, Gerard thought crazily, because he was wearing pearls and patent leather heels.
"Hey, Frankie," he managed and attempted to stand up straighter and slap Gabe's hand away from his tit at the same time. Frank looked - really good in mobster gear. Crisp and lean, and he stood differently, too, relaxed from the hips down. "Happy Birthday," Gerard managed to choke out.
Frank, who had been looking somewhere in the vicinity of Gerard's throat, snapped his gaze up to Gerard's face and gave him a bright smile. "Thanks, Gee!" Then he waved a hand between them, probably intended to summarize Gerard's entire look. "Nice, uh. Nice costume."
"Thanks!" Gerard replied as easily as he could manage, with Frank's gaze skittering all over him. His stomach fluttered like he was a fourteen year old girl. "You, uh, you, too."
Frank slipped his hands into his pockets all nonchalant, and shrugged. "Thanks. Got kinda tired of Freddie."
"Me, too," Gerard said quickly, then amended it with, "I mean, of, like, vampires and shit. Not of me as Freddie. Or, I mean, you as Freddie. I mean, uh." He forced himself to shut up. Why was he so awkward? Sure, he was pretty awkward as a general rule, but not this awkward, and not generally around Frank. For crying out loud, it was a party. Then again, he'd just spent five minutes fending a drunk Gabe Saporta away from his person, so he supposed everything was a bit tilted tonight.
Frank barely seemed to notice his awkwardness, though, which was helpful. "Well, this is different from vampires," he said, and was, like, quiet. Way too quiet for Frank, especially Frank at a Halloween bash.
Gerard looked down at himself. "Yeah," he admitted. The black dress and the vintage pearls were a far cry from the capes with cigarette burns and the worn black jeans, which had been easier to put together than Mikey's scene kid costume. He didn't know how he felt in the dress anymore, it was like a second skin, but somebody else's, on him. He was still himself underneath it.
"Okay, it is getting a little too girly and awkward around here, so I'm gonna skedaddle," Gabe announced behind them, and Gerard jumped, because he'd almost forgotten about his existence. When he turned around to look, Gabe was already towering over the party crowd, yelling, "Where is my boy? I got a dick needs a grinding, Mikeyway! I see you behind that broom, young man!"
Gerard's sigh of relief was interrupted by Gabe's hand landing in the vicinity of Gerard's ass and squeezing. "See ya, hot stuff," Gabe muttered when Gerard managed to shove him off.
"Oh my God, go away," Gerard begged, then instantly felt bad, because Mikey was clearly hiding from Gabe, but at least he was a pro at evasion by now. Watching Gabe stalk away, Gerard was mostly sure Mikey'd be fine. When he turned back to Frank and Ray, they were already in full-on bitch fest about the shitty music, and that was another relief, because Gerard could just fiddle with his empty and nod along and not think about the way Frank's voice sounded when he'd first spotted Gerard in drag.
"Think they'd let me slip them some Misfits?" Frank mused, nodding his head towards the computer/speakers rig-up.
"Do you just carry that shit around with you everywhere you go?" Ray asked him, his clown 'fro shaking in amusement.
"Duh!" Frank held up a flash drive, and looked at Ray like he was crazy. "You never know when you're gonna need to convert." Gerard noticed that Frank had said nothing about Ray's fucking crazy face. "Besides, it's Halloween. You can't have Halloween without Danzig."
"True," Ray agreed. "Or Zevon. It isn't Halloween without Zevon."
"Or Nightmare Before Christmas," Frank mused.
"It isn't Christmas without Nightmare, not Halloween," Gerard pointed out, and Frank forestalled him with a hand.
"It's called pre-gaming for the holiday season, Gee. You can start the season off right with Jack and Sally, and then by the time you get to Christmas, you can rewatch Nightmare and have it be timely again, you get me? There's a whole -" Frank waved his smoke expansively, "System. There's a system."
Gerard opened his mouth to rebuff and explain how you couldn't just cheat your way through the holiday movie compendium, when Ray interrupted by humming the first few bars of "Werewolves of London" seemingly at no one.
"You're a loser," Frank pointed at him with a cigarette, and Ray announced that he wasn't the one who had a chart and a timeline of holiday movie watching, because he wasn't the one who was twelve.
"You spend your birthday with a strange crowd of men, Iero," Bob announced as he sidled up to them with his Bud and a DVD-shaped package. "Here, meant to give this to you earlier, monkeyboy."
"Bob Bryar, you are a man after my own heart!" Frank crowed and ripped into the package like he was a kid on Christmas morning. "Dude," Frank whispered reverently as the PS3 version of Army of Two came into view. "I've wanted this forever!"
Bob shrugged and drank his beer. "I know."
Gerard bit his lip. He hadn't realized they'd be giving Frank his presents at the party. "Shit, Frankie, I don't have your present," he mumbled. "I mean, I have it, but it isn't done yet. I'll have it for you like, before Christmas." He thought about how the Frank O'Lantern was still in its lump of clay inception, barely even anything. "Uh, maybe. It's amazing, though, it's this -"
"Gee!" Frank stopped Gerard talking with a raised hand. "Don't fucking tell me, man, it has to be a surprise." Gerard blinked at him. "And it's fine. Seriously, you're - you're fine."
Gerard watched as Frank turned away, biting his lip, the game clutched between his hands. "Shit, I have no place to store this," he fretted and turned back and forth, trying to find a safe nook to keep his gift. Gerard hadn't even bothered with a purse, so he was no help, but these were the times you were especially happy to call Ray Toro your friend.
"Give it here," Ray said, making a grabby gesture with his hands, and slipped the DVD case into his clown pants. Gerard had to admire that kind of resourcefulness. At the moment, he barely had a place for his pack of smokes, and he'd rather not show that to the entire campus.
Frank had to turn Ray around and pat him down and do all kinds of things that involved his hands and Ray's ass in order to make sure the DVD wouldn’t fall out by accident until Ray shoved him away and gave him a noogie for good measure. Gerard had to really work at not feeling too jealous, because Frank's hands looked really good when they were touching someone, and Gerard's skin buzzed with how much it wanted to be touched. Of course, he didn't want to give Frank a noogie.
"Looking good, Gee," Bob noted, his eyes not straying below Gerard's face. Bob was the coolest guy Gerard knew.
"Thanks, Bob," Gerard smiled back and shook his empty at them. "I'm going for a refill. Don't have too much fun without me."
Between his pinched feet and trying to avoid the creepy and obnoxious shadow of Gabe pawing at some poor Mike Myers in the corner, walking through the crowd was getting increasingly difficult. By the time he got to the kitchen, Gerard was so deeply in need of a drink, he grabbed the last two floating cans of Bud from the cooler and decided he needed a smoke.
He'd seen a screen door at some point in his path, so he doubled back and made his winding way towards it. The door got stuck a few times, but he managed to wrestle it open eventually, and only dared to lift up the skirt and grab the pack of smokes from the stockings when he was safely out of view.
He smoked, and he drank, and he watched the stars wink at him from the clear night sky. His mind was a-buzz with the pounding bass beat coming from the inside the house, the unfamiliar feeling of cool air on his bare thighs, the appraising looks he'd been getting from everyone he knew and didn't as he walked around wearing this bizarre second skin. But most of all, he thought of how Frank's crisp white shirt tugged at his shoulders under the vest, the loosened tie at his throat, and slick color of his ink, looking strangely foreign against the mobster gear.
Mikey found him when he was almost down to the filter.
"You hiding, Gee?" he asked after Gerard had wordlessly extended him a smoke.
"You?" Gerard countered instead of answering, because he was pretty sure they were both equal losers, though he suspected that to not be the strict truth.
Mikey shrugged and squinted up at the sky. "Pete didn't show."
So, not hiding, just moping, then. Gerard made a sympathetic face at him and offered his second Bud as consolation. Mikey wrinkled his nose and refused with a shake of his head. "Thanks, though."
"No problem," Gerard sighed, popping it open and taking a sip. "Oh, hey," he asked, looking at Mikey askance, and trying for casual. "Did Gabe already find you?"
Mikey shuddered visibly and shook his head. "Yeah, at first, but I got away." Mikey peered at Gerard from behind his glasses. "Why, did he find you?"
Gerard wrinkled his nose. "God, he is such a creep. I swear, you dress up as a girl in front of him one time." Gerard broke off and shook his head. "Saporta at a party is, like, a hundred thousand times worse than Saporta in class."
Mikey made a non-committal noise. He'd never had a class with Gabe. "No, seriously. He makes dicks out of clay," Gerard explained. "And then he, like, fellates them whenever you even glance in his direction."
Mikey's shoulders shook, and when Gerard turned to look, he was totally laughing. "It's not funny! It's incredibly disruptive," he complained, not even bothering to hide it. He didn't even tell Mikey about the time Gabe molded his own dick in the middle of somebody else's presentation.
"You really do look awesome," Mikey said after he'd stopped laughing at Gerard's pain. The switch in gears threw Gerard a little. "Very retro."
"Oh, yeah?" He asked, pleased despite himself, and fluttered his eyelashes. "Do I make a pretty sister?"
Mikey gave him a quick sliver of a grin. "Frank better watch out for my shotgun, is all I can say."
"Hmm?" Gerard tried sounding blasé and not at all eager to find out why Frank, of all people, should avoid Mikey's wrath, but Mikey knew it all anyway. He rolled his eyes at Gerard and ashed onto the ground.
"Oh, c'mon, he's been looking all over for you. 'Have you seen Gee?'" Mikey squeaked, apparently imitating Frank. "'Where'd Gerard get off to?'"
Gerard didn't think he'd been gone that long, but then he did have a tendency to get lost when the stars came out. His heart pounded kind of hard. "Did he say, you know, why, or -"
"Gee, come on." Mikey sounded almost impatient, which was pretty damn unusual for him. Pete hadn't called or texted in a week, Gerard knew, and in Pete time, that was practically a decade. He could pretend not to see Mikey climbing the walls, but neither of them was fooled. "Just fucking - find him. I don't know. He's acting extra annoying tonight."
Gerard could only pretend so far, but of course he wanted to find Frank. Mikey sounded like he maybe knew more than he was saying, but he also sounded like asking for more was a really bad idea right now. Gerard would have to track Pete down at some point and give him a good thrashing. At least until Pete socked him in the face, because that was a pretty easy move to pull on Gerard. He was no Bob Bryar. But it was the thought that counted, anyway.
"So, like, how are you? Are you -"
"Oh my God, Gee, just fucking go already," Mikey interrupted and pushed his bony elbow into Gerard's side. Gerard almost fell off his heels. "Go give him a birthday present, or whatever."
Gerard couldn't hide the stupid grin on his face, or the fact that he was in the door and looking for Frank in his mind already. "Okay. Okay, thanks, Mikes. See you later?"
Mikey didn't even bother answering, just ducked into the shadows when Gerard dumped the empties in the trash, left his cigarette to smolder in the ashtray, and slipped back inside.
He walked in on a rowdy-looking game of Go Fish taking place at the kitchen table where the more popular way of declining cards seemed to be shouts of "Go fuck yourself, dickwad!" and walked past the slutty Dorothies out into the hallway.
Before he could even process it, there was a sudden tugging on his arm, and Gerard was seriously this close to whipping off his shoes and beating Gabe senseless, when he realized it wasn't Gabe at all. Frank clutched at Gerard's arm and was leading him away to a darkened hallway, then pressing Gerard up against a wall, all shifty fingers and crowding feet.
"Frank, what?" Gerard started, but Frank's finger on his lips stopped him. Gerard watched him appear in front of him out of the darkness, in outlines and shadows and warmth and pressure. He kind of stopped breathing for a moment. Frank's eyes looked huge, and even though Gerard towered over him in his heels, he felt completely overwhelmed by Frank for that one drawn out moment.
"Jesus, Gee, where did you fucking go," was all Frank whispered before crushing his mouth to Gerard's and Gerard gave up all questions.
He opened his mouth under Frank's, slid his tongue between Frank's lips, and pulled him bodily in. Frank's mouth tasted like beer and cigarettes and like that particular taste, like nothing else on earth, of somebody kissing the fuck out of you. If Gerard's eyes hadn't closed of their own accord, he's pretty sure they would have rolled to the back of his head.
Frank moaned against his mouth in one continuous humming wave, and Gerard moaned in answer, like a release. He pulled Frank in by the hips, and even through the layers of fabric around his crotch, he felt Frank's hard dick right there, against his own.
Gerard broke off, mouth sucking in air like a fish out of water, and started to maybe say something, though he wasn't sure what. Frank took the opportunity to drag his wet mouth down Gerard's neck, then bite it, lightly at first, getting harder the further he went, then lick it clean. Gerard shuddered against him, panting and so ridiculously hard, he thought he might actually come just from this. The air around them was a mix of Gerard's perfume and Frank's sweat. Gerard gulped through the pressure.
"Fra - Frank," he panted, eyes squeezing shut, his lashes dry from the mascara. "Frankie, what -"
"Later, shut up now, Gee," Frank mumbled against his neck, and Gerard felt almost hurt for a second, because maybe they really should talk about this or something. But then Frank's hand dipped lower and grabbed Gerard's ass through the skirts, and Gerard thought, fuck it. Talking was overrated. Instead, he moaned and thrust against Frank's hip, seeking enough friction to just, oh God, get him off already. He was so turned on, he could barely breathe.
Frank's fingers tightened on his ass and Gerard whimpered, actually fucking whimpered, and barely heard Frank's quick gasp. Gerard's hands clutched at Frank's back, he couldn't get close enough, he was fucking dying, and Frank was now just rutting against him, his slacks-covered dick lined up between Gerard's thighs, and not giving Gerard enough friction for anything at all, and it was crazy and overwhelming, and Gerard tried to claw his way out of his brain for control.
"Frank, Frank, wait -" he managed to whisper, and his tongue and throat were dry, so dry from all the air he couldn't quite get into his lungs. He wanted more. He wanted to drag Frank into the nearest room and bend over for him, or blow him, or - anything, anything at all that wasn't just this too-much-and-not-enough humping they were doing.
When Frank broke off from biting Gerard's neck and licking the dampness under the string of pearls, his eyes looked unfocused and glassy, his mouth wet, and Gerard had to swallow a few times. Then he proceeded to forget what he'd been meaning to say, because Frank slowly slid his hands over the folds of Gerard's skirt and petticoat, then ducked down a little so he could slip them up and inside and oh holy fucking fuck, over Gerard's stocking thighs and then -
Gerard bit his lip and watched the dawning on Frank's face, his eyes growing huge in the dark, just the hint of his tongue peeking out between slackened lips.
Frank's fingers ran up again over where the stockings ended and splayed over the back of Gerard's naked thigh. Neither of them breathed for one long moment. Then Frank licked his lips.
"Gee." His voice was hoarse and quiet in the darkness. Gerard could hear the rest of the party as if through a bubble in the space/time continuum.
"Yeah?" His own voice was kind of wrecked and his entire body thrummed, waiting to drop off the edge of reality. Frank's fingers didn't move away from his thigh.
"You're wearing stockings," Frank said, like he wanted this confirmed for the eleven o'clock news.
Gerard gave him a shaky nod.
"I -" Frank stuttered off into silence. "And you've got your cigarettes tucked into your garter belt."
Gerard couldn't deny that, either. "It was the only place I could keep them," he explained. He licked his lips. His lipstick was still there. He'd gotten the expensive kind.
Frank's eyes slid shut, eyebrows drawn. "Gee. You're a fucking - I - Jesus Christ, Gerard."
Gerard didn't know what that meant. He guessed it was a good thing, but they'd never - he never thought he'd get to kiss Frank. He wanted Frank to keep talking, and he wanted Frank to keep kissing him, and he just really, really wanted Frank to get naked with him. "Yeah?"
"Gerard," Frank started, then stopped, his voice snagging on the syllables. Gerard watched Frank's Adam's apple move under his slick skin, and Frank’s voice was hoarse when he added, "Gee, if I don't fuck you right now, I'm going to die. Basically."
"Oh," Gerard breathed, and then repeated the words in his mind, and then he whimpered. The answer was "yes, yes, yes," and "please," and "anytime from now until the end of time, if you could," but he had no idea where they could go, no idea if there was an empty bedroom somewhere, if there was even a lock on any of the bedroom doors, and then it hit him. He was a genius. "Bathroom," he whispered roughly. "Back bathroom, right now."
Frank's hands were out of Gerard's skirt and gripping his waist in one second flat, directing him deeper into the hallway, through the door into the darkness of the blissfully free bathroom. There was a single night light plugged into the wall, and neither one of them bothered with the overhead, because now there was a door, and a lock, and that was fucking it.
Gerard's back hit the back of the door with a thump when Frank threw him up against it, hands like vises around his waist. He had never realized how huge Frank's hands were, but maybe that was the boning on the dress making Gerard's waist seem smaller in comparison. He could probably also blame the boning on why he could only breathe in shallow bursts, but maybe not, with the way Frank was eating him up with his gaze.
"Fuck, Gerard, you have no fucking idea," Frank leaned in, whispering the words right into Gerard's ear, making Gerard literally weak in the knees. He hadn't even known that was physically possible. "No fucking idea what you look like." Frank's hands spread all around Gerard's ribcage, his thumbs hot presses in the middle. Gerard threw his head back and it thudded against the door.
"What… what do I look like, Frankie?" he asked and his voice was strained, the angle of his neck making it difficult to talk right. He was still having trouble breathing, too, and his thighs were starting to shake from wearing the heels all night long, and the weight of Frank all around him.
"You look like a fucking - movie star, but - oh my God, so much hotter," Frank rasped and punctuated it with a bite at the crook of Gerard's neck, taking the pearls with him. Gerard hadn't been expecting that comparison, and laughed despite himself.
"What, like, Greta Garbo or something?" he panted.
He felt Frank shaking his head, and his sweaty hair brushed against Gerard's ear and mouth. "No - yeah - I don't know, just…Jesus Christ, I have to - please, God, let me fuck you?" Frank drew back enough to meet Gerard's gaze, and it was so fucking strange, to be so much taller, and wearing a skirt and fucking high-heeled shoes, standing there plastered up against Frank. Frank, who was sweating through his three-piece, and - it was like they were in a fucking classic black-and-white, only all upside down and distorted, two dicks instead of one, dirtier, hotter, better.
"Gee?" Frank asked again, and then his hands loosened around Gerard's waist, and he was stepping back, and - what? Why? Then Gerard remembered that Frank had asked him, actually fucking asked him for permission to fuck him, and Gerard hadn't actually said "yes" yet.
He reached out quickly and reeled Frank in by his damp cotton sleeves. "Fuck yes," he breathed, briefly wondering if he actually did look and sound ridiculous and Frank just couldn't tell in the low light of the bathroom. But Frank gave him a dark look, his eyes all liquid pupils now, and crushed their mouths together.
That was good enough for Gerard. He moaned, slipped Frank his tongue, fucking licked him all around, and Jesus, Frank tasted so fucking good, the cheap beer taste all but gone now, replaced by the taste of their tongues and the cherry red of Gerard's lipstick. Frank pushed him harder up against the wall and then his hands were fighting against the many layers of Gerard's skirt and crinoline and Gerard felt them on his thighs, dry against the material of his stockings.
"Fuck," Frank breathed against his mouth, "Jesus Christ, do you have any idea how fucking hot that is?" His hands slid further up and slipped under the garter belt, touching skin.
Gerard just watched him, not bothering to answer, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and tried to remember his own name. Frank held onto Gerard's ass with one hand, and raised the other to Gerard's neck, caressing it lightly with his thumb, then sliding it up to his jaw, Gerard's sweat between their skin. Frank didn't waver from his gaze as he skated his hand over to Gerard's mouth and just - touched Gerard's lips with his thumb, slow and light and teasing. Gerard opened up automatically and let Frank slip it inside. He caught it in his teeth, licked the rough salty skin, pushed against it with his tongue. Frank gasped and pressed down over Gerard's teeth, and Gerard relaxed his hold. The finger slipped out and then Frank dragged it slowly, deliberately over Gerard's lower lip. Gerard felt the drag of lipstick smear across his cheek.
His dick throbbed. He lolled his head against the door and tried to swallow around the strain of holding back, holding everything in. "Frank," he finally managed. "If you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to fucking do it myself." With his fingers. While Frank watched.
Frank's hips snapped up against Gerard's. "I don't fucking think so," he answered, his voice hitching and rising. Then he slid to his knees.
His hands were immediately all over Gerard's legs, catching on his calves, rising up over his knees and against the tender insides of Gerard's thighs. Gerard couldn't see him under all the material, he could only feel and hear, and by the time Frank reached Gerard's hips, Gerard was a quivering fucking mess.
“How do you - can you get these off?" Frank asked and tugged on Gerard's briefs. Gerard was suddenly more grateful than he could even say that Amanda from Social Psych had explained to him the rookie mistake of wearing one's underwear under the garter belt, instead of over -
"You wanna be able to pee and whatnot, you know? Plus," and here she'd sent a wisp of smoke floating in Gerard's direction, "you never know when else you might need those things off in a hurry."
"Yeah," he ground out. "Just - just tug on 'em."
Frank did. Gerard spread his legs, abandoned embarrassment for heat, and when Frank's hands reached Gerard's feet, he lifted one after the other and stepped out. One heel got caught in the fabric and Frank carefully held onto Gerard's ankle to free it. Gerard swallowed. He could hear the muffled thudding of a bass line behind the closed door. He could hear them both breathing.
Then, without warning, Frank gripped Gerard's leg and hoisted it up over his own shoulder, spreading him open. Gerard felt his heel dig into Frank's back, felt the drag of their contact shoot sparks up his entire body.
"Shit." He tried to shift the fabric so he could actually see Frank beneath it all, trying to tuck it around his head and shoulders. But before he could manage to rearrange all the folds, Gerard's cock was enveloped in sudden wet heat of Frank's mouth, and he gasped, so loudly, he was afraid somebody had heard him.
"Fuck, Jesus, oh my God - " The uneven string of curses whooshed out of his throat and he couldn't even hold it back. Frank wasn't messing around, he wasn't teasing, and Gerard felt his knees melt out from under him. He swayed against the door and grabbed Frank's head through the fabric. He was pinned in place by Frank's hands on his hips, and Frank's mouth on his cock, and he snapped for air, held on as hard as he could.
Frank turned out to be a seriously enthusiastic cock-sucker and Gerard whined and jerked with each flutter of tongue at the head of his cock. He was kind of disappointed at not being able to see Frank sucking him, and maybe it was better that way. He wasn’t about to miss out on coming with Frank’s dick inside him, and he couldn’t even fucking believe it was in the cards.
When Frank pulled off without warning, Gerard actually heard himself whine.
"Fuck. Frank?" His voice sounded wet and harsh in the darkness. His eyes stung and he blinked several times to get the sting out.
"That's the idea," Frank answered, then lifted Gerard's leg up off his shoulder. Gerard had to take a second to remember how to stand on two unsteady feet. He was shaking, he thought he was going to explode. When Frank finally emerged from under Gerard's skirt, the crinoline bunched and rubbed Gerard's dick to distraction. Gerard gasped and tried to rearrange it, maybe, keep it a little ways away, but Frank's face was flushed dark, and his lips -
"Sorry, I just - really fucking wanted to do that," Frank said, his voice sounding unfamiliar - sexed out, roughed up, and Gerard gave up on his skirt. Instead, he pulled Frank forward by his ridiculous vest, and slid his mouth over Frank's moving lips, licking and biting and it probably barely even counted as a kiss, except that Frank was licking him right back, meeting him halfway with each breath, and Gerard felt the pinch of Frank's fingers all around his ribs, on the small of his back. Gerard's hard-on dragged him forward and down, he was on fucking fire, and the crinoline, Jesus, the crinoline was slowly killing him with friction.
"Gee," Frank whispered between bruising kisses, "Gee, take off the heels, c'mon." His hands tugged on Gerard's waist in time with each breath.
For a short moment, Gerard wondered if taking the shoes off would ruin the illusion; he wondered if the illusion was what Frank wanted from him. For a short moment, Gerard barely breathed.
"Gee, please, please, I want to fuck you so bad," Frank whined and kissed Gerard's jaw, and before Gerard could blink, Frank twisted and turned them until Gerard's ass bumped up against the vanity. His feet pinched, and then he didn't fucking care anymore why they had ended up this way.
He pushed Frank away enough to lean down and pull off the first shoe. He'd forgotten how it felt, not being strapped into tight fake leather, until his foot had been released and he could barely help the groan of mindless pleasure. He felt Frank's hands spasm around him.
It had only been a moment, but he'd felt it all the way down to his toes. Gerard dropped the shoe on the ground and straightened up. The sudden shift in height allowed him to look right into Frank's eyes. He bit his lip, then watched Frank lick his own. He could barely hear any sound over the quick and off-tempo beating of his heart.
"If you take off the other one, you can fuck me," he whispered, watching Frank's face. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting in answer, but Frank's arm darting out to reach behind them wasn't it. He felt stupid and slow and only realized what Frank was doing when Frank guided him sideways a little, barely breaking his hold on Gerard's waist.
Frank fumbled when he slid the mirror over the vanity open. Gerard just watched the wall over his shoulder and listened to the knocking of bottles together, half-praying that Frank would find something good in there.
Finally, he heard the squeaky grind of the mirror being slid home, followed by a dull thump of something being thrown in the sink.
Frank, silent through the search, pulled back to face Gerard fully. Gerard spotted a line of sweat making its way down his cheek, and had to resist the urge to lick it off him.
Frank didn’t say a word when he dropped down on one knee again, and Gerard had to swallow around his dry throat because that was a seriously amazing look on Frank. He tugged Gerard's heeled foot up. Gerard held his breath as the shoe slowly slid off his heel and then was gone completely, a dull thud forgotten on the ground. His breath hitched. He was pretty sure he could have come right there, with barely any incentive from an outside source, and his cock was throbbing as if in confirmation, ready to explode. Gerard gripped the vanity behind him tighter.
Frank set his foot back on the floor with a gentle hand and struggled to his feet. His feet ached with the pressure being released.
Frank grabbed Gerard's waist and twisted him around until Gerard had his back to him. "Gonna fuck you now, Gee," he announced in a rough whisper behind him, before pulling back and undoing his belt.
"Fucking do it already," Gerard answered, and then realized that he hadn't even fucking seen Frank's dick yet. A weird wave of something like possessiveness washed over him, forced him to turn his head, to look. Frank caught his stare and held it as he shoved his pants and boxers down. He was hard as a rock, already leaking through the wings of the shirt. Gerard bit his lip and restrained himself from dropping to his knees and sucking Frank off right there.
Instead, he turned back around and fished the lube out of the sink, tossed it over to Frank without much aim. Frank caught it anyway, and then Gerard had to close his eyes, listening to the sounds of Frank ripping the condom open, slicking himself up.
His heart beat faster. Even with all the prelude, he still couldn't quite grasp the reality of Frank, sidling up from behind, getting ready to fuck him. He gasped when Frank's arm wrapped around his middle and pulled him back, rough enough to make a fucking writhing mess of need out of Gerard.
"Do you need my fingers?" Frank asked, and another time, maybe, a time when they could be on a bed and have hours for this, Gerard would want Frank's fingers, but -
"No, I - I like it like this," he confessed, his stupid face flaming hot. In for a penny… "Fuck me, Frankie," he begged and allowed his head to fall forward, waiting.
Frank sighed behind him, kissed Gerard's neck with wet lips. The moment stretched into eternity until the blunt tip of Frank's cock pressed against him and then slowly slid inside. Gerard gasped around the burn and the fullness of it. Frank seemed to take Gerard at his word, when he pulled almost all the way out and slowly thrust back in, and Gerard's spine arched and he cried out, his body sparking and zapping, and then they were going, oh Christ, they were fucking. Frank drove into him steady and hard, rough and precise, every thrust sending Gerard's nerve-endings to near-explosions. The crinoline rubbed at Gerard’s dick continuously and he pawed at his skirts, pulled and shoved at the material until he'd tugged it all the way up and across the sink, away from his over-sensitized skin.
Frank kept fucking him through it, and it felt like he was being melted from the inside out. Gerard thrust against him, gave it to him, again and again and again.
"Gee," Frank whispered in his ear, and Gerard shuddered at the closeness, his hot breath. "Gee, open your eyes," he commanded, and Gerard had no idea that he'd even closed them. His vision was blurred when he did as he was told, and he looked at the chipped sink, the dull metal of the drain, and didn't understand, until -
"Look up, Gee. Look," Frank repeated and kept on fucking him, his hands gripping Gerard in place.
Gerard didn't want to look, and only lifted his head when Frank's fingers under his chin had forced him.
"You're so fucking gorgeous," Frank breathed in his ear, and Gerard saw himself then - smudged eyeliner overwhelming his eyes, making them look huge and half-crazy; a smear of raw red across his cheek; his hair limp and sweaty over his forehead; pearls shifting in the light with each thrust.
He quickly looked past himself and caught Frank's gaze in the reflection. Frank looked a mess, panting, with his hair askew and plastered to his forehead, pupils blown and dark where he held Gerard's gaze for the next thrust, and Gerard's hands slipped against the sink; he couldn't look away from Frank's face in the mirror where Frank, still watching, brought his mouth to tug on Gerard's earlobe, and -
Gerard couldn't look anymore, his synapses firing so fast, he didn't think he could keep up. Frank was overwhelming, he was everywhere - around him, behind him, right there in front of him - fucking and watching and gasping, and Gerard was so close, he was so fucking close - Frank was moaning in his ear, whimpering -
Gerard fumbled one hand under his skirt, pushed past all the fabric in his way, Jesus, why had he fucking even worn this ridiculous fucking dress - until his hand finally got to his leaking dick, and he gripped himself, whimpered in sheer relief and heat of it, stroking hard and fast. When he looked back up at Frank's face in the mirror, Frank's eyes were closed, eyebrows creased like he was in pain, wet mouth open around a silent gasp. Gerard's knees melted beneath him, everything collided around him, spiked up to unbearable, and he was coming. He shot all over his hand and his skirt and he couldn't stop, he pulsed for what felt like full minutes in which he floated over a cliff and fell, and fell, and fell. He heard his own voice crying out through the pounding in his ears.
Frank's hips stuttered against him and the next moment, Gerard felt Frank coming inside him, stretching him even wider, wider than he could take, and then he couldn't take it at all, it crushed him and he shook and fell forward, almost braining himself on the mirror.
"Fuck," Frank swore and one of his hands flew up to anchor them against the cabinet. "Oh, fucking fuck me," he swore again, softer this time. His voice was muffled, tickling against Gerard’s hair.
Gerard tried to answer in some way, but his throat was dry and his tongue wouldn't work. Instead he shifted a little under Frank, who got the hint and after some fumbling, slowly slipped out. Gerard slumped down in relief. He was going to feel that tomorrow. Possibly even tonight.
He stood there panting and pulling his skirt back down over himself while Frank fumbled behind him. The slap of the condom in the trash can kind of shook him out of it, and Gerard attempted to turn around. His thighs burned like he'd run a fucking marathon, and even the barest hint of contact between his dick and his come-stained skirt was sending confused shivers down his legs. He groaned, and then Frank was right there, pushing him back up against the sink.
"Gee, you okay?" His face was so close, his eyebrows creased in concern. Gerard's chest felt full of something cottony, and he thought he might laugh, or maybe crumple, and he didn't even know why. Instead, he nodded and gave Frank a small grin.
"I'm good," he managed. And he was - really fucking good. "I just need -" He made a vague gesture in the direction of his briefs, and Frank grinned and bent down to grab them like a gentleman.
While Gerard struggled to pull his underwear on around the sticky mess on the crinoline and not look like an idiot, Frank just - stood back and grinned at him. He seemed to slip bravado back on like a jacket, and Gerard had always kind of marveled at that, how easily Frank could slide in and out of moods like it was nothing, even when he was sweaty and fucked out like this, tie askew, vest rumpled, white button-down practically see-through.
"Good," Frank finally said, and stepped forward, hands falling on the sink and bracketing Gerard between them. "I'm good, too."
Gerard quirked an eyebrow, trying to shift his briefs surreptitiously, plucking his dress into some semblance of order. "Yeah?"
Frank leaned in even closer. His eyes zoned in on Gerard's mouth. "Yeah. Never better."
It was such a line, and definitely a lie, but Gerard knew what he meant. Hoped he knew, anyway. He cleared his throat, licked his dry lips. "What, never had a better fuck?" His heart pounded hard despite himself. He was so fucking gone.
Frank bit his lip and looked Gerard in the eye this time. "Fuck no. Not ever." That didn't sound like a line. It didn't sound like a lie, either, and Gerard knew from Frank's lies. His heart beat even harder.
One good turn deserved another, and he forced himself to lay it out. "Not me, either."
"Gee." Frank's breath puffed against Gerard's lips, and he sounded urgent when he said, "Gee, tell me - tell me you got this. You finally got this."
"Huh?" Frank's lips were shiny, and Gerard's palms were damp. He couldn't look away from Frank's face. He felt sluggish and dumb.
"Us, me, you and me, this fucking - this thing -" Frank broke off and ran a hand through his hair. His arms were slick with sweat, tattoos splotches of winding ink.
Gerard's brain caught up with Frank's words, and before another thought could delay him, he grabbed Frank's hand in his own.
"Why tonight, though?" he demanded, because. Because something was still missing. "Is it because - is it this?" He swept his free hand down his front, encompassing the dress and the stockings and the discarded heels.
Frank quirked his lips and laughed, open and bright. "Because you're the hottest not-girl on the planet, Gerard. You're also slow as fuck, and I couldn't wait for you to catch up anymore. I -" Frank ducked his head, biting his lip, leaving it shiny. "You're really dumb, you know that?" he finally asked and looked at Gerard through his eyelashes. The slow spread of his lips was mesmerizing, and Gerard could never resist Frank's smiles. He grinned slowly back.
"So it's not because I look like a girl?"
Frank shook his head slowly, like he was doing it solely for Gerard's benefit. "No. It's because you're the hottest guy who also happens to look like a really hot girl on occasion and wear a fucking garter belt."
Gerard untangled this. There seemed to be no bad. There seemed to be no bad at all. Gerard really loved his garter belt.
"Do you wanna blow this popsicle stand?" He asked in what he hoped was a decent Greta Garbo or whatever impression, because things were pretty damn clear now. He thought he could flutter away, he was lighter than air.
Frank slanted his lips, pretended to blow smoke out of the side of his mouth and replied, "You bet your sweet ass, shweetheart." His Bogart could use a little work, Gerard decided, and pushed off the sink right into Frank's space. He tugged on his tie, brought their lips within an inch of each other, and whispered, "Let's fucking go. This dress is giving me another hard-on."
"You and me both, baby," Frank giggled and closed the distance between them with a kiss. Gerard closed his eyes, deepened it, maybe got a little lost.
When Frank pulled back, he bit his own lip and whispered, "Happy birthday to me."
Gerard snickered and leaned back in. "You bet."
~end~