Ficlet: "That Sickly Feeling" (MCR, Frank/Gerard, R or NC-17)
This is for philosiraptors and ciel_vert? Because I like to do their bidding. This is teenage werewolf Frank. In heat. :D?
Title: "That Sickly Feeling"
Fandom/Pairing: MCR, Frank/Gerard
Notes: Totally indulgent, totally un-beta'ed, totally written off the cuff. (~1500)
***
The door shuts behind Frank with a hollow bang, and the hallway is totally abandoned. That's good. That's really, really good, because he cannot possibly deal with other people right now, like, at all. Other people touching him or bumping against him or hear their too-loud voices or anything at all. He feels like his skin is burning right off his body, he's at the boiling point, and he just needs to get to the nearest bathroom and then he'll be okay.
He's running past lockers and skidding across the linoleum flooring, down, down to the end of the corridor, where the weakest light is spilling through the frosted windows. When he finally ducks into the bathroom, he looks around for a second - no one there, good - and runs into the nearest stall. It's smelly and sticky and the lock gets jammed when he tries to shut the door, but it'll do, it'll do.
The first touch of his hand on his own dick has him shouting out loud, that's how much of a relief if it is, Jesus. Christ, he hopes no one heard that, but whatever, whatever, this feels - oh, so fucking good. It's not even the usual feel-good of jerking off, it's like his entire body has been dunked into a vat of vaseline when he's been itching forever. Usually when he jerks off, he wants it, but he doesn't need it, but right now? Right now, he needs it.
He takes huge, gulping, dizzying breaths, his hand flying over his dick, and his orgasm rams into him, like he's been smashed into a wall head-first. He gets bent in half with the force of it, and he can't take a breath for a long time. Once he does, he comes up coughing and, Jesus, his knee is sore from where he'd banged it on the wall. Fucking hell.
He spits into the toilet and takes his hand off his spunked dick. He wipes it on his pants and leans against the wall for a minute, just breathing. Okay, so that was fast.
He lets himself calm down and put himself back together before walking out of the stall. The shadow on the floor is all the warning he gets - and then he sees him, someone else in the bathroom, sitting on a radiator by the farthest sink.
It's a new kid - Frank knows from new kids. He's got dirty long hair and right now, bright red cheeks under his lowered eyelashes. They probably match Frank's, but whatever. Frank tries to get himself riled up enough to get pissed, but he can't, his body feels too good, even though he knows it won't last. So what - he jerked off with someone else in the bathroom. Just because he sounded like a buffalo dying doesn't mean shit. People get weird about sex no matter what.
He ignores the dude in the corner - what's he doing lurking in the corner, anyway? Oh. Frank spots the cigarette a second later - and walks to one of the sinks to wash his hands. He slams the soap dispenser a few times, but it's empty, so he leans over to the next dispenser over and pauses. The guy's knee is directly in his line of sight, and something about the way it pokes out through the ripped material of his jeans makes Frank's stomach flip over and - oh, fuck.
Fuck, there it goes again - that itchy-crawly feeling of his dick coming to life and the need spreading all across his body, from skin to meat to bones, he's vibrating.
"Fuck."
He didn't mean to say that out loud, but he hears it once it's out. The kid shifts and Frank follows the progress of his knee as he lowers himself to stand on the floor. Frank's frozen in place, with his hands on the soap dispenser, and his eyes stuck looking at the guy's feet. He thinks he might vomit.
"You all right?"
The kid's voice is a bit rough from smoking, and Frank jerks his gaze up until he's looking him in the eye. He swallows and doesn't answer, but he does fall to his knees. What? What? His brain is screaming at him to get up, get out, what are you doing?, but his body's separated itself again. He's in full lizard-brain mode, and when he goes for the guy's belt, then his button, and then his zipper, the guy doesn't stop him. Frank thinks he might be frozen in shock, but so is Frank, really, apart from this crazy fucking need.
The first taste of the guy's half-hard dick and Frank moans so loud, his ears pop. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, that feels good - and it feels even better when the guy's dick hardens right in Frank's mouth, the head filling out and spilling out that taste, fucking hell. Frank's shoulder hurt and he doesn't get why, at first, and then realizes that the dude whose dick he's sucking has him in a vise grip, like he can't even stand without help.
Frank moans louder and clutches the guy's hip with his left hand, while fumbling for his own zipper with his right, his dick throbbing, so fucking painful, he can barely wrap his hand around it before he's coming hard and hot all over it. He accidentally bites, and the guy shouts over him, but Frank doesn't think he's hurt.
"Oh, Jesus God, fuck, what are you - what are you - oh, fuck, oh God."
Frank is so blissed out and turned on at the same time, all he can do is keep sucking the dick in his mouth until he feels the kick of the pulse, the tell-tale sign, and pulls off quickly, replacing his mouth with his slick hand.
Not quickly enough, because when he guy gasps and lets out a high keening noise, Frank forgets to duck and gets jizzed right in the face. If he had gotten hard again in time, he'd have come again, just from that. He slips out his tongue to taste the stuff on his lips, then finally looks up at the guy.
He's seriously pretty. And messed up - eyes totally black, cheeks flushed, mouth cracked and bitten, and he's wearing eyeliner. He's watching Frank like Frank is the messiah and the devil all rolled into one. Then he takes one hand off of Frank's shoulders and slowly wipes the come off of Frank's cheek.
Frank shudders and pants and Jesus, he can feel it, it's so close, it is so close. He just has to get through the day.
For a second, he almost blacks out from the pull of the coming moon on his skin, and when he comes to, he's been tucked away and more or less cleaned up. He's still on the floor, but now the guy's eye level, their knees touching not at all casually.
"What's your name?"
"Frank." He didn't mean to answer, but what the hell. It's not like the dude's gonna report him for surprising him with a blowjob. "You?"
"I'm Gerard. I'm new."
Frank snorts. "I know."
"Are you - you're not new, right?"
Just freaky. "Nope, this is my domain." He means the bathroom. The rest of the school can choke on his dick.
Gerard seems to get that, and laughs. His smile is wide and surprising. Frank bites his lip and smiles back. "Good to meet you, Gerard," he says after a minute and finally struggles to his feet. He goes over to the sink and washes his hands with just water, which is gross, but it'll have to do. He catches Gerard's reflection in the mirror. His smile is gone, and his eyes are wide. Frank turns around and leans with his ass on the sink.
What the hell.
"I'll be out sick tomorrow, but if you want, we can have lunch together on Monday," he says.
Instead of saying 'yes' or 'no,' Gerard asks, "How do you know you'll be out sick?"
Frank laughs and lets his head fall forward. "Getting that sickly feeling."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
Frank looks up again. Gerard is still on the floor, like he's forgotten that it's cold and hard. Frank lifts his shoulders in question. "Okay what?"
"I'll have lunch with you." He sounds magnanimous, like he's doing Frank a huge favor. Frank snorts and shakes his head, pushing off the sink.
"All right, I guess. See you Monday."
He leaves Gerard kneeling on the floor, and right before the bathroom door shuts behind him, Frank throws over his shoulder, "Locker J15, fifth period. Be there."
The itchy-crawling feeling doesn't come back until he's leaving for the day and a sharp new smell invades his nostrils. Gerard. Somewhere in the same corridor.
Great. Now Frank will never get his scent out.
*
Title: "That Sickly Feeling"
Fandom/Pairing: MCR, Frank/Gerard
Notes: Totally indulgent, totally un-beta'ed, totally written off the cuff. (~1500)
***
The door shuts behind Frank with a hollow bang, and the hallway is totally abandoned. That's good. That's really, really good, because he cannot possibly deal with other people right now, like, at all. Other people touching him or bumping against him or hear their too-loud voices or anything at all. He feels like his skin is burning right off his body, he's at the boiling point, and he just needs to get to the nearest bathroom and then he'll be okay.
He's running past lockers and skidding across the linoleum flooring, down, down to the end of the corridor, where the weakest light is spilling through the frosted windows. When he finally ducks into the bathroom, he looks around for a second - no one there, good - and runs into the nearest stall. It's smelly and sticky and the lock gets jammed when he tries to shut the door, but it'll do, it'll do.
The first touch of his hand on his own dick has him shouting out loud, that's how much of a relief if it is, Jesus. Christ, he hopes no one heard that, but whatever, whatever, this feels - oh, so fucking good. It's not even the usual feel-good of jerking off, it's like his entire body has been dunked into a vat of vaseline when he's been itching forever. Usually when he jerks off, he wants it, but he doesn't need it, but right now? Right now, he needs it.
He takes huge, gulping, dizzying breaths, his hand flying over his dick, and his orgasm rams into him, like he's been smashed into a wall head-first. He gets bent in half with the force of it, and he can't take a breath for a long time. Once he does, he comes up coughing and, Jesus, his knee is sore from where he'd banged it on the wall. Fucking hell.
He spits into the toilet and takes his hand off his spunked dick. He wipes it on his pants and leans against the wall for a minute, just breathing. Okay, so that was fast.
He lets himself calm down and put himself back together before walking out of the stall. The shadow on the floor is all the warning he gets - and then he sees him, someone else in the bathroom, sitting on a radiator by the farthest sink.
It's a new kid - Frank knows from new kids. He's got dirty long hair and right now, bright red cheeks under his lowered eyelashes. They probably match Frank's, but whatever. Frank tries to get himself riled up enough to get pissed, but he can't, his body feels too good, even though he knows it won't last. So what - he jerked off with someone else in the bathroom. Just because he sounded like a buffalo dying doesn't mean shit. People get weird about sex no matter what.
He ignores the dude in the corner - what's he doing lurking in the corner, anyway? Oh. Frank spots the cigarette a second later - and walks to one of the sinks to wash his hands. He slams the soap dispenser a few times, but it's empty, so he leans over to the next dispenser over and pauses. The guy's knee is directly in his line of sight, and something about the way it pokes out through the ripped material of his jeans makes Frank's stomach flip over and - oh, fuck.
Fuck, there it goes again - that itchy-crawly feeling of his dick coming to life and the need spreading all across his body, from skin to meat to bones, he's vibrating.
"Fuck."
He didn't mean to say that out loud, but he hears it once it's out. The kid shifts and Frank follows the progress of his knee as he lowers himself to stand on the floor. Frank's frozen in place, with his hands on the soap dispenser, and his eyes stuck looking at the guy's feet. He thinks he might vomit.
"You all right?"
The kid's voice is a bit rough from smoking, and Frank jerks his gaze up until he's looking him in the eye. He swallows and doesn't answer, but he does fall to his knees. What? What? His brain is screaming at him to get up, get out, what are you doing?, but his body's separated itself again. He's in full lizard-brain mode, and when he goes for the guy's belt, then his button, and then his zipper, the guy doesn't stop him. Frank thinks he might be frozen in shock, but so is Frank, really, apart from this crazy fucking need.
The first taste of the guy's half-hard dick and Frank moans so loud, his ears pop. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, that feels good - and it feels even better when the guy's dick hardens right in Frank's mouth, the head filling out and spilling out that taste, fucking hell. Frank's shoulder hurt and he doesn't get why, at first, and then realizes that the dude whose dick he's sucking has him in a vise grip, like he can't even stand without help.
Frank moans louder and clutches the guy's hip with his left hand, while fumbling for his own zipper with his right, his dick throbbing, so fucking painful, he can barely wrap his hand around it before he's coming hard and hot all over it. He accidentally bites, and the guy shouts over him, but Frank doesn't think he's hurt.
"Oh, Jesus God, fuck, what are you - what are you - oh, fuck, oh God."
Frank is so blissed out and turned on at the same time, all he can do is keep sucking the dick in his mouth until he feels the kick of the pulse, the tell-tale sign, and pulls off quickly, replacing his mouth with his slick hand.
Not quickly enough, because when he guy gasps and lets out a high keening noise, Frank forgets to duck and gets jizzed right in the face. If he had gotten hard again in time, he'd have come again, just from that. He slips out his tongue to taste the stuff on his lips, then finally looks up at the guy.
He's seriously pretty. And messed up - eyes totally black, cheeks flushed, mouth cracked and bitten, and he's wearing eyeliner. He's watching Frank like Frank is the messiah and the devil all rolled into one. Then he takes one hand off of Frank's shoulders and slowly wipes the come off of Frank's cheek.
Frank shudders and pants and Jesus, he can feel it, it's so close, it is so close. He just has to get through the day.
For a second, he almost blacks out from the pull of the coming moon on his skin, and when he comes to, he's been tucked away and more or less cleaned up. He's still on the floor, but now the guy's eye level, their knees touching not at all casually.
"What's your name?"
"Frank." He didn't mean to answer, but what the hell. It's not like the dude's gonna report him for surprising him with a blowjob. "You?"
"I'm Gerard. I'm new."
Frank snorts. "I know."
"Are you - you're not new, right?"
Just freaky. "Nope, this is my domain." He means the bathroom. The rest of the school can choke on his dick.
Gerard seems to get that, and laughs. His smile is wide and surprising. Frank bites his lip and smiles back. "Good to meet you, Gerard," he says after a minute and finally struggles to his feet. He goes over to the sink and washes his hands with just water, which is gross, but it'll have to do. He catches Gerard's reflection in the mirror. His smile is gone, and his eyes are wide. Frank turns around and leans with his ass on the sink.
What the hell.
"I'll be out sick tomorrow, but if you want, we can have lunch together on Monday," he says.
Instead of saying 'yes' or 'no,' Gerard asks, "How do you know you'll be out sick?"
Frank laughs and lets his head fall forward. "Getting that sickly feeling."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
Frank looks up again. Gerard is still on the floor, like he's forgotten that it's cold and hard. Frank lifts his shoulders in question. "Okay what?"
"I'll have lunch with you." He sounds magnanimous, like he's doing Frank a huge favor. Frank snorts and shakes his head, pushing off the sink.
"All right, I guess. See you Monday."
He leaves Gerard kneeling on the floor, and right before the bathroom door shuts behind him, Frank throws over his shoulder, "Locker J15, fifth period. Be there."
The itchy-crawling feeling doesn't come back until he's leaving for the day and a sharp new smell invades his nostrils. Gerard. Somewhere in the same corridor.
Great. Now Frank will never get his scent out.
*