(no subject)
TITLE: Surfacing
CHAPTER: Standalone (Unlikely, but possilby there will be a small sequel)
PAIRING: Frank/Gerard
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Van days. Mostly everyone is drunk, Gerard and Frank have a fumble in the dark, and Frank tries to look after Gerard after an alcohol filled and generally bad performance.
DISCLAIMER: Not real, never happened. I made it all up.
WARNING: Sex, lots of alcohol, brief mention of drug taking.
They're in the middle God Only Knows Where when Frank pushes at Gerard's knee with his toes, "Got more beer?" and grins goofily as Gerard reaches down between his legs to pull out a fresh six-pack. He and Gerard open their beers at the same time, crashing them noisily together and shouting, "Cheers!" laughing when some spills out onto a bunch of flyers they've got in one of the boxes they're sitting on.
"Will you guys shut the fuck up?"
"Otter, dude, chill. Just drive, man. Just drive," Gerard says, looks over the seat at Mikey who's passed out and slouched over Ray.
Otter turns around when they're stopped at a red light and says, "Someone needs to sober up and take over soon. My eyes are seriously fucked."
"Dude," Ray starts, "those two," he points back to Frank and Gerard, "are wasted, and I've got a sleeping Mikey on me. No can do. We're stopping soon though, right?" Otter doesn't answer, just sighs and turns back to the road.
"Hey," Frank says with a nod, kicking at Gerard's foot to get his attention, "he's fine. Stop worrying." Gerard just sips his beer and reaches over to slip Mikey's glasses off his face, sticking them in the pocket of his hoodie and slouching down further into the cardboard 'seats' he and Frank have.
They're just managing to drift off to sleep when a shout comes from up front, "Frank, if you're sitting on my cymbols again I'm gonna fucking kill you."
"Long as it's not your sticks I don't give a shit, dude," Frank slurs, leaning forward to give Gerard a high-five. Then there's a swerve and, "Oomph," as Frank ends up flying forward onto Gerard. "Asshole, you did that on purpose!"
Otter just laughs, and as Frank tries to pull himself up Gerard's looking down at him, mouth in a crooked smile, pupils fucked, "Hey," he says, quietly, "didn't know I was your type."
Frank says, "Ha. Ha. Where's the beer?" tries not to let his elbow dig into Gerard's stomach too much as he sits up a bit straighter. Somewhere that isn't all over Gerard's lap.
"He's right though," Gerard gets him another beer, "you were on his cymbols again. Stay over this side."
And it's too easy for Frank to just do that, turn himself around and relax back onto Gerard's chest because he's not sure how much he's had to drink, but Gerard's a lot more comfortable to lay on than equipment. The next time Frank wakes up he he's vaguely aware of Gerard's hand patting at his crotch. He's holding one of his t-shirts, and Frank blearily asks, "What you doin'?"
"Spilled beer all over youself. Thought you'd pissed on me at first," Gerard laughs.
"Aw, shit," Frank complains, but doesn't have it in him to move, "sorry."
Gerard sticks his hand over Frank's mouth, speaks into his ear, "Shhh, everyone's alseep." That's when Frank looks around over the top of the seats and realizes they've stopped. Ray's hair's hanging over the back where has his head leant back on the seat, Matt's squished up by the opposite window and Mikey's somewhere between them.
Pushing himself up a little, Frank rests his head into the crook of Gerard's neck, and suddenly Gerard isn't so much drying up his crotch as feeling it up, t-shirt discarded to the side. "Stop being drunk," Frank whispers. It's not really a warning or asking Gerard to stop, Frank just figures he'll notice what he's doing and stop all by himself.
But he doesn't.
He just keeps rubbing at Frank, and Frank tries really hard not to push up into the touch, into the awkward arch of Gerard's palm. "Uh, Gee?" he says, turning his head and ending up face to cheek with Gerard. "You know you're, y'know?"
"Yeah," he replies after a minute or so, and in that minute Frank feels his jeans getting tighter, just knows he almost hard, and has the urge to let Gerard know it wouldn't take so long for him to get that way if he hadn't had so much to drink. But he doesn't. Gerard says, "I know," almost soothingly, as he pushes his hand past the waistband of Frank's jeans to grab sloppily at Frank's dick.
Frank isn't sure what he knows, but he nods and can't help instinctively fumbling to open his fly to make it easier for Gerard. His eyes snap shut as Gerard gets a better hold of him, jacking him off roughly and squeeezing Frank's hip with his other hand. "You're drunk," Frank moans, pushing up into Gerard's fist, and Gerard kisses him as well as he can at that angle.
He mumbles, "So are you," into Frank's mouth, tightens his grip and rubs his thumb around the head of Frank's dick as his hand moves up and down lazily. And it feels good, so good just being touched for the sake of it, as it seems to be, because Gerard's making no real effort to get him off. And Frank likes it that way; it seems like it'll need less questioning that way, less analyzing.
As opposed to homophobia as Frank is, as much as he's all for the homo-erotic antics of rubbing himself over Gerard at shows, he never really thought much of it in terms of what it means for either of them.
So Frank just relaxes, letting Gerard do what he wants, and it doesn't seem like he's gonna come anytime soon, which he's fine with because Gerard's hand around him feels amazing in his hazy state of mind, but he finds his breath catching in his throat as Gerard's other hand comes up to stroke along his cheek, and he can feel a definite hardness pressing against his ass.
"Gee," he tries to say, but Gerard shushes him again, grinds his hips up and kisses Frank harder than before, groans, low and throaty against Frank's lips. His tongue catches on Frank's lip ring and even though he's still only moving his hand slowly around Frank, it's just tight and rough enough that Frank comes. He tries desperately to keep in the weak, "Ahhn," that tumbles from his mouth, but luckily it doesn't appear to wake anyone else up, and Frank is too nervous to move for a few moments. "Shit."
"Good?" Gerard asks, taking his hand out of Frank's jeans, pulling the cigarettes out of his pocket after wiping his hand on the sleeve of Frank's jacket.
"Uh, yeah?" Frank forces from his suddenly dry throat, and reaches behind Gerard to open the window. Their faces only a few inches apart, Gerard just grins and winks at Frank as he puts the cigarette between his lips. Frank sort of wants to kiss him again but the barrier of Gerard's lighter stops him and he shakes his head. "Oh, um, thanks and everything," he says warily, sitting carefully back where he'd been earlier in the evening, "do you? Y'know, shall I, uh." He sighs, not sure how to ask Gerard if he wants the favor returned but feeling like he should at least offer. "We got any more beer?" he asks instead.
Gerard frowns but picks up a can he'd carefully placed by his side, "Last one, already opened. Share?" Frank nods and takes it, steals a puff of the cigarette, too. Gerard notices the look of hesitation as their eyes meet and Frank looks down at his crotch, biting his lip awkwardly. He follows Frank's line of sight, down to the slight bulge of his own jeans. Oh," he says, waving a hand around dismissively. "That's. You don't have to, you know."
"Right," Frank nods slowly, like, his own handjob might not be good enough or something?
"It's just, I kind of," Gerard makes the universally understood guesture to tell Frank he'd already jerked off that day, "at the gas station earlier. And I can't, uh," he blushes, pauses for a moment. "It'll do that, but. That's about it right now. The pills, y'know?"
He goes quiet then. Frank hadn't realized what effect any of Gerard's medicating, self or otherwise, had on him until then, but it was obviously not something Gerard gave out information about freely, so Frank plucks up the courage to lean over and kiss him lightly. "It's okay, I get it."
They finish the rest of the beer and cigarette in a comfortable silence, and Frank crawls back over when they're done, nestles himself at Gerard's side.
............................
The next morning Gerard wakes up to the smell of coffee, and Frank weighing heavy on his chest. He pokes at Frank's side a few times to wake him up, and looks over to see what everyone else is doing. It's only Mikey in the van with them and picking up the closest thing he can grasp, he throws it at the back of Mikey's head. "Where'd everybody go?"
Mikey pulls the headphones out of his ears and looks back, "Hey," he smiles. "You're finally awake."
Frank sits up slowly, rubbing his temples and blinking more than necessary . "Where're Ray and Otter? And do I smell coffee?"
"Yeah, dude, here," Mikey hands two cups over the seat. "I just came back with these and the others have gone to find some breakfast. Didn't wanna leave you two sleeping without knowing where we'd gone."
Gerard looks at Mikey over his cup, "You could'a left a note."
"Okay, fine," he sighs, "I just wanted to listen to some music in peace." Frank laughs, stepping out of the van to stretch his legs. "Otter was bitching about having to drive for so long last night."
After a while Gerard joins Frank, sitting in the dirt at the side of the road they've stopped on. His eyes are starting to get all bloodshot from being hungover. Or being tired, or the fact that he's halfway through a joint already. Gerard's not sure which, and he doesn't really care, but he doesn't say no when Frank offers him some. "You okay?"
"Fan-fuckin'-tastic. You?"
"I'm good. Listen, um. What I told you-"
Frank cuts him off with a look, eyebrows raised, "I'm not gonna tell anyone. S'not a big deal, Gee."
"Maybe not for you. It was for me last," Gerard shakes his head, takes a long drag of the joint before passing it back, holding the smoke as long as possible, letting out only faint traces of what he'd taken in. "About that. I didn't. I don't know why I-"
"Forget it. I wasn't exactly fighting you off and, we were both kinda drunk..." Neither know what to say after that, and the new silence isn't quite as comfortable the last one.
Gerard checks the map while Mikey taps a steady beat against the side of the van with his foot, and Frank says, "'Bout fuckin' time," when Otter and Ray get back.
"I would. Sober, I mean," Gerard says before the guys get close enough to hear. "I'd still do it if I were sober."
"Maybe when we run out of beer or money, we'll find out," Frank jokes, relieving Ray of the heavy weight of the beer he has and wasting no time in getting one open.
That evening they make it to the venue they're playing at. It's small and the crowd isn't huge but Mikey's nervous and drink-twitchy, and Gerard watches him pace around playing an imaginary bass to give his fingers something to do. His own stomach churns as usual, and he downs a few drinks to take his mind off of things.
Ray and Matt watch the crappy television set in the corner as they wait to be called for the tiny stage, and Frank watches Gerard fix his face in the mirror between large gulps of the free dink they've been given.
Frank pretty much stays in his corner during their set. Mostly in front of his stack, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with their equipment because everyone seems to be having problems except Gerard. But he only has his mic, so as long as the sound guy's doing his job that should be fine. Otter breaks three drumsticks, Mikey's bass somehow half detunes itself and Frank busts a string by the time they finish. And Gerard's mic may have technically been fine, but Gerard himslef had spent most of the show on his knees or with his back to the audience.
He staggers off as soon as they leave the stage, and Frank follows him. Through the hall and outside into the alley. When he catches up, Gerard's leant against the wall on his side, throwing up all over the floor. Frank doesn't ask if he's alright, just makes sure the hair is out of Gerard's face as he spews some more. He gets Gerard sat on his ass, not far enough away that they can't still smell the vomit, but at least he's not in danger of falling over. Gerard hangs his head between his knees anf Frank rubs his back.
"Thanks, man."
"Think you can walk back to the van?"
Gerard says, "Nope," matter-of-factly, let's his head thump back on the bricks behind him. "You bring any beer out with you?" Frank shakes his head, hands Gerard a cigarette instead. "Think you can get the van to me?"
"If you'll be okay for a minute I'll get the keys. Pretty sure I can drag you there."
"Doubt it, short-stuff," Gerard laughs. Frank flips him off and leaves him to go get the van key.
When he gets back after finding the guys and explaining about Gerard, Gerard isn't there. Frank heads towards the van, finding Gerard about halfway, leant up by a tree and puking on the sidewalk. He doesn't even flinch when Frank comes up behind him, pulls him to standing by his waist, just let's himself fall back against Frank, and they stumble like that the rest of the way back.
After one last throw-up outside the van, Gerard perks up a bit, says, "Thanks, man. Was fine until I got to that tree and then, whoosh," he guestures a falling motion with his hands, "couldn't keep my shit together anymore."
"No problem. You feelin' a little better now?" Franks asks, opeing the side of the van for Gerard to get in and lay on the seat.
Gerard pulls Frank in with him, "Yeah. Little. Where's everybody else?"
"Hauling our shit into the back room so we can pick it up in a while. They're stayin' for drinks."
Gerard pulls his feet up so Frank can sit on the end of the seat and close the door, and he lifts his head to see Frank just staring at him. "What?"
Frank keeps staring for a minute then looks away, "Nothing. Can I..." he trails his hand up Gerard's thigh and Gerard let's his head flop back down, stretches his legs over Frank's.
"Can you what?" Hesitantly Frank slides his fingers further up,rests his palm over the zipper on Gerard's jeans and rocks his palm back and forth a few times. "Oh, you don't, y'know, owe me or anything, for last night."
"I know," Frank shrugs even though Gerard's not looking. Not really doing much of anything. Except maybe in his jeans. The hint of an erection forming under Frank's palm, and he adds a little pressure to it.
"Mmm," Gerard hums, "pity handjob, the best kind."
"Stop being sarcastic. Since when do I do anything out of pity?"
Gerard says, "Good question," let's himself move against Frank's hand, and Frank keeps going, the two shots of Tequila Mikey made him down at the bar mixing nicely with everything else he'd had to drink during the day.
When Frank manages to take control of his hands enough to get Gerard's jeans open he rubs his eyes a few times, tries to stop himself seeing two of everthing and stop feeling like van's moving even though he knows it isn't. He manages to concentrate long enough to see how hard Gerard is, that there's a build up of pearly fluid threatening to drip onto Gerard's stomach, and he leans down to lick it away, not giving himself time to over-think it.
Gerard immediately clutches at Frank's hair, and he decides to stay there, just flicking his tongue across the head to get used to the bitterness. "Don't," Gerard mutters, and Frank thinks he's about to be pushed away, but Gerard continues, "don't tease. Just. Please."
It's now or never, Frank thinks. It's as good a time as any for what he's going to do, so before he can chicken out he holds the base of Gerard's dick, keeping him steady an he fits the head in his mouth. Having never sucked a guy off before, it's an odd feeling, to have Gerard thick and solid on his tongue, but Gerard's appreciative enough, so Frank just does what he knows feels good for him.
He licks from base to tip, moving his fingers delicately and slowly at first, as he alternates between licking and sucking, moving his tongue around as much as he can. He can feel the saliva building up over his knuckles, dribbling down the side of his hand. Gerard curses a couple of times, fists his hands in Frank's short hair and tugs him down onto his dick. It's not too far, Frank doesn't choke or anything, but it's far enough that he can feel it on the back of his tongue and he thinks maybe... Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world to do to a guy.
Gerard groans, "Frank?" and Frank just continues, thinking he must be doing a pretty awesome job. The next time it's more like a growl, "Frank!"
"What?" Frank asked, eyebrows furrowed, wondering what the problem was. Sticking his arm through the gap of seats, Gerard pulls a can of beer through, opening it immediately and taking a few swigs. "Are you kidding? You stopped me so you could drink?"
"Have some," Gerard replies, handing over the can pushing it into Frank's hands. Frank takes it, putting it to his lips, tipping his head back, and when he goes to set it down behind the front seat Gerard is there. Right there, legs pulled up and stiting right in Frank's face. "What?" Frank asks again, because seriously, what the fuck?
To answer him, Gerard pulls Frank in by the back of his neck, brushes his mouth across Frank's cheek and says, "I wanna fuck," then laughs.
And then Frank laughs, because it sounds so ridiculous. They're the only people in the van and. Oh. What?! He stops laughing and blinks long and hard, opening his eyes to see Gerard's ass swaying next to him as he fumbles around through their stuff over in the back. "You," he tries to say, poking at Gerard's side instead of the mass of bare skin available to him, "you and me?"
"Yeah," Gerard grins, flopping back down in the seat, "I don't see anyone else around. C'mon, here," he takes Frank's hand, tipping out some gel-like stuff that Frank isn't sure he wants to know the owner of, and spreading it over his fingers. "You just. Y'know, it's easy. Just like fucking a girl."
"I must've skipped this part then," Frank says, looking at his gel covered hand, and Gerard sniggers.
"I'm drunk, you're drunk, everything's relaxed. It'll be easy as fuck."
Yeah, Frank thinks, we are kinda wasted, and Gerard's just laying there waiting, so what's the dilemna? Can't be that weird. Gerard clears his throat loudly, and Frank's thoughts along with it. He watches Gerard frown and get up on his knees instead, hands braced against the side of the van. "Here goes nothin' then." Not being an expert, but having some idea of how it's supposed to work, Frank places one hand around the top of Gerard's thigh, and pushes his squidgy fingers at Gerard's ass, watching with interest as if it were someone elses hand instead. Instanly, Gerard pushes back, and Frank yanks his hand away, wincing. "I can't," he laughs. "I can't, y'know, with my. Ew. No. I just, I can't do it. It's weird."
"Lemme help you," Gerard says, reaching back to pull Frank's fingers to where they should be, pushing them inside and wriggling around them, "Just. Like that. Just do that." And when Frank concentrates, feels the muscles resisting, the tightness, the heat, he just wants more. His dick strains against his zipper and, fuck. He has to. Has to do it now. So it's a good thing when Gerard groans deeply and pulls himself away from Frank, turns around quicker than he can process and starts tugging at Frank's jeans to open them.
Frank asks, "Now?" all surprised and excited like it's his birthday or something, and Gerard says, "Yeah, now. Like, last fuckin' week, now," and kisses Frank sloppily.
It's pretty gross. Frank's hands fly up to Gerard's hair, pulling and twisting the ends, slipping through because of the gel, and he can taste the faint trace of vomit in Gerard's mouth, even over the beer, and it's almost enough to turn his stomach but not quite. "Let's go, short-stuff," Gerard mumbles, and Frank wants to protest but then Gerard's back where he was, ass swinging in the air, so Frank holds himself steady and goes for it.
It takes a couple of attempts after smothering his dick with the gel, because however much he wants it, Frank's coordination isn't quite on-board with the plan. And well, where he's aiming for is a bit of a tighter fit than what he's used to. But when he manages the right angle, with a bit of help from Gerard, he watches as his dick slowly disappears into Gerard's body inch by inch.
Slowly, because he can't bear to go faster. "Wow, that's. That's different," he says once in all the way. "I haven't, y'know, done this before." Frank runs his hands up under Gerard's t-shirt before quickly adding, "With a guy, I mean. Haven't done this with a guy."
"I realized that," Gerard says, trying not to laugh. "So, like, the rest is like fucking a girl, if that makes it easier for you."
Frank snorts, pulls out a little way, "A really tight girl," and thrusts forward hard, just once, feeling his balls slap against Gerard's. "God, you should've got me drunk enough to do this before."
Pushing back, urging Frank to move, Gerard tells him he'd better hurry up before anyone comes back, and Frank drags his short nails down Gerard's back in retaliation for his impatience. It makes him arch awkwardly, spit out something that doesn't really sound like a word of any kind, and fuck, Frank really likes that. He starts moving properly, thrusting and biting his lip as Gerard moans, clenches around him. He leans over Gerard's back, one hand on the seat-back and the other clutching Gerard's shoulder, using it to pull himself deeper as he fucks Gerard harder, not caring that his kness are rubbing on the coarse material of the seat.
He just starts to get a good rhythm, a steady smack of their skin connecting with each jerk of Frank's body, when Gerard shoves himself back really hard. So hard that it pushes Frank back onto his heels, disonnecting them completely. "What the fuck is it now?" Frank complains, and Gerard is quick to push him up against the seat, ripping off his own jeans from his ankles and sitting over Frank's lap.
"We're gonna do it like this, gonna fuck you real good," Gerard states, lowering himself down onto Frank's dick, legs either side of him, tucked up tight, holding the seat behind Frank's head for leverage. Gerard lifts up, slams down and let's his head fall back, groaning loudly, "Oh, oh yeah. That's it, Frank, that's the fucking spot!"
"Shit. There? S'good?" Frank pushes up, holds Gerard's hips tight enough to leave finger marks and just fucks him, bodies colliding when he shoves his hips up and Gerard pushes down.
"Mmm. Mmhyeah, Christ, there," Gerard thrashes his head around, falling to rest on Frank's shoulder, rocking against him relentlessly until Frank puts a sweaty hand to the front of Gerard's t-shirt to move him back a bit, and then wraps it around Gerard's dick.
He can't take his eyes off of Gerard's face, his expressions, the tightness of his jaw as he slides his fist up and down Gerard's length, feeling the weight in his palm, pulsing beneath his fingers. It's kind of intense and Frank's haze of alcohol is fading fast as he knows he's going to come soon. Gerard half hauls himself up, and half bucks hard into Frank's fist, spills all over Frank's fingers and his own t-shirt as he comes.
Frank fucking whimpers, he can't help it, and he moves as fast as he can, thrusting and panting as Gerard keeps clenching and gripping around his dick. It's only a few enthusiastic pumps necessary to have Frank coming. Coming hard and breathless inside Gerard, and Gerard presses forward, sucks on Frank's neck and let's him finish before moving from his thighs. Frank just sits still, plastered the seat as Gerard pulls his jeans up and checks out of the window quickly.
Nobody's coming back just yet, so Gerard slaps Frank's thigh playfully, "Hey! Earth to Frank? Get dressed, dude." Frank does as he's told almost on autopilot, happily accepting the beer and cigarette Gerard gives him, at a loss for words until he takes the first drag of smoke. "Shit," is all he can think to say anyway.
"Yeah." Gerard curls up in the corner, blows his smoke out of the window, "So... that was. You're okay, right? Not gonna freak out or anything?"
"Huh? Seriously?" Frank crawls over to sit with Gerard, turning and laying on his chest as he had the night before. "No freaking out, just more beer," he laughs, and Gerard kisses the side of his head as they wait for the other guys to get back.
.
CHAPTER: Standalone (Unlikely, but possilby there will be a small sequel)
PAIRING: Frank/Gerard
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Van days. Mostly everyone is drunk, Gerard and Frank have a fumble in the dark, and Frank tries to look after Gerard after an alcohol filled and generally bad performance.
DISCLAIMER: Not real, never happened. I made it all up.
WARNING: Sex, lots of alcohol, brief mention of drug taking.
They're in the middle God Only Knows Where when Frank pushes at Gerard's knee with his toes, "Got more beer?" and grins goofily as Gerard reaches down between his legs to pull out a fresh six-pack. He and Gerard open their beers at the same time, crashing them noisily together and shouting, "Cheers!" laughing when some spills out onto a bunch of flyers they've got in one of the boxes they're sitting on.
"Will you guys shut the fuck up?"
"Otter, dude, chill. Just drive, man. Just drive," Gerard says, looks over the seat at Mikey who's passed out and slouched over Ray.
Otter turns around when they're stopped at a red light and says, "Someone needs to sober up and take over soon. My eyes are seriously fucked."
"Dude," Ray starts, "those two," he points back to Frank and Gerard, "are wasted, and I've got a sleeping Mikey on me. No can do. We're stopping soon though, right?" Otter doesn't answer, just sighs and turns back to the road.
"Hey," Frank says with a nod, kicking at Gerard's foot to get his attention, "he's fine. Stop worrying." Gerard just sips his beer and reaches over to slip Mikey's glasses off his face, sticking them in the pocket of his hoodie and slouching down further into the cardboard 'seats' he and Frank have.
They're just managing to drift off to sleep when a shout comes from up front, "Frank, if you're sitting on my cymbols again I'm gonna fucking kill you."
"Long as it's not your sticks I don't give a shit, dude," Frank slurs, leaning forward to give Gerard a high-five. Then there's a swerve and, "Oomph," as Frank ends up flying forward onto Gerard. "Asshole, you did that on purpose!"
Otter just laughs, and as Frank tries to pull himself up Gerard's looking down at him, mouth in a crooked smile, pupils fucked, "Hey," he says, quietly, "didn't know I was your type."
Frank says, "Ha. Ha. Where's the beer?" tries not to let his elbow dig into Gerard's stomach too much as he sits up a bit straighter. Somewhere that isn't all over Gerard's lap.
"He's right though," Gerard gets him another beer, "you were on his cymbols again. Stay over this side."
And it's too easy for Frank to just do that, turn himself around and relax back onto Gerard's chest because he's not sure how much he's had to drink, but Gerard's a lot more comfortable to lay on than equipment. The next time Frank wakes up he he's vaguely aware of Gerard's hand patting at his crotch. He's holding one of his t-shirts, and Frank blearily asks, "What you doin'?"
"Spilled beer all over youself. Thought you'd pissed on me at first," Gerard laughs.
"Aw, shit," Frank complains, but doesn't have it in him to move, "sorry."
Gerard sticks his hand over Frank's mouth, speaks into his ear, "Shhh, everyone's alseep." That's when Frank looks around over the top of the seats and realizes they've stopped. Ray's hair's hanging over the back where has his head leant back on the seat, Matt's squished up by the opposite window and Mikey's somewhere between them.
Pushing himself up a little, Frank rests his head into the crook of Gerard's neck, and suddenly Gerard isn't so much drying up his crotch as feeling it up, t-shirt discarded to the side. "Stop being drunk," Frank whispers. It's not really a warning or asking Gerard to stop, Frank just figures he'll notice what he's doing and stop all by himself.
But he doesn't.
He just keeps rubbing at Frank, and Frank tries really hard not to push up into the touch, into the awkward arch of Gerard's palm. "Uh, Gee?" he says, turning his head and ending up face to cheek with Gerard. "You know you're, y'know?"
"Yeah," he replies after a minute or so, and in that minute Frank feels his jeans getting tighter, just knows he almost hard, and has the urge to let Gerard know it wouldn't take so long for him to get that way if he hadn't had so much to drink. But he doesn't. Gerard says, "I know," almost soothingly, as he pushes his hand past the waistband of Frank's jeans to grab sloppily at Frank's dick.
Frank isn't sure what he knows, but he nods and can't help instinctively fumbling to open his fly to make it easier for Gerard. His eyes snap shut as Gerard gets a better hold of him, jacking him off roughly and squeeezing Frank's hip with his other hand. "You're drunk," Frank moans, pushing up into Gerard's fist, and Gerard kisses him as well as he can at that angle.
He mumbles, "So are you," into Frank's mouth, tightens his grip and rubs his thumb around the head of Frank's dick as his hand moves up and down lazily. And it feels good, so good just being touched for the sake of it, as it seems to be, because Gerard's making no real effort to get him off. And Frank likes it that way; it seems like it'll need less questioning that way, less analyzing.
As opposed to homophobia as Frank is, as much as he's all for the homo-erotic antics of rubbing himself over Gerard at shows, he never really thought much of it in terms of what it means for either of them.
So Frank just relaxes, letting Gerard do what he wants, and it doesn't seem like he's gonna come anytime soon, which he's fine with because Gerard's hand around him feels amazing in his hazy state of mind, but he finds his breath catching in his throat as Gerard's other hand comes up to stroke along his cheek, and he can feel a definite hardness pressing against his ass.
"Gee," he tries to say, but Gerard shushes him again, grinds his hips up and kisses Frank harder than before, groans, low and throaty against Frank's lips. His tongue catches on Frank's lip ring and even though he's still only moving his hand slowly around Frank, it's just tight and rough enough that Frank comes. He tries desperately to keep in the weak, "Ahhn," that tumbles from his mouth, but luckily it doesn't appear to wake anyone else up, and Frank is too nervous to move for a few moments. "Shit."
"Good?" Gerard asks, taking his hand out of Frank's jeans, pulling the cigarettes out of his pocket after wiping his hand on the sleeve of Frank's jacket.
"Uh, yeah?" Frank forces from his suddenly dry throat, and reaches behind Gerard to open the window. Their faces only a few inches apart, Gerard just grins and winks at Frank as he puts the cigarette between his lips. Frank sort of wants to kiss him again but the barrier of Gerard's lighter stops him and he shakes his head. "Oh, um, thanks and everything," he says warily, sitting carefully back where he'd been earlier in the evening, "do you? Y'know, shall I, uh." He sighs, not sure how to ask Gerard if he wants the favor returned but feeling like he should at least offer. "We got any more beer?" he asks instead.
Gerard frowns but picks up a can he'd carefully placed by his side, "Last one, already opened. Share?" Frank nods and takes it, steals a puff of the cigarette, too. Gerard notices the look of hesitation as their eyes meet and Frank looks down at his crotch, biting his lip awkwardly. He follows Frank's line of sight, down to the slight bulge of his own jeans. Oh," he says, waving a hand around dismissively. "That's. You don't have to, you know."
"Right," Frank nods slowly, like, his own handjob might not be good enough or something?
"It's just, I kind of," Gerard makes the universally understood guesture to tell Frank he'd already jerked off that day, "at the gas station earlier. And I can't, uh," he blushes, pauses for a moment. "It'll do that, but. That's about it right now. The pills, y'know?"
He goes quiet then. Frank hadn't realized what effect any of Gerard's medicating, self or otherwise, had on him until then, but it was obviously not something Gerard gave out information about freely, so Frank plucks up the courage to lean over and kiss him lightly. "It's okay, I get it."
They finish the rest of the beer and cigarette in a comfortable silence, and Frank crawls back over when they're done, nestles himself at Gerard's side.
............................
The next morning Gerard wakes up to the smell of coffee, and Frank weighing heavy on his chest. He pokes at Frank's side a few times to wake him up, and looks over to see what everyone else is doing. It's only Mikey in the van with them and picking up the closest thing he can grasp, he throws it at the back of Mikey's head. "Where'd everybody go?"
Mikey pulls the headphones out of his ears and looks back, "Hey," he smiles. "You're finally awake."
Frank sits up slowly, rubbing his temples and blinking more than necessary . "Where're Ray and Otter? And do I smell coffee?"
"Yeah, dude, here," Mikey hands two cups over the seat. "I just came back with these and the others have gone to find some breakfast. Didn't wanna leave you two sleeping without knowing where we'd gone."
Gerard looks at Mikey over his cup, "You could'a left a note."
"Okay, fine," he sighs, "I just wanted to listen to some music in peace." Frank laughs, stepping out of the van to stretch his legs. "Otter was bitching about having to drive for so long last night."
After a while Gerard joins Frank, sitting in the dirt at the side of the road they've stopped on. His eyes are starting to get all bloodshot from being hungover. Or being tired, or the fact that he's halfway through a joint already. Gerard's not sure which, and he doesn't really care, but he doesn't say no when Frank offers him some. "You okay?"
"Fan-fuckin'-tastic. You?"
"I'm good. Listen, um. What I told you-"
Frank cuts him off with a look, eyebrows raised, "I'm not gonna tell anyone. S'not a big deal, Gee."
"Maybe not for you. It was for me last," Gerard shakes his head, takes a long drag of the joint before passing it back, holding the smoke as long as possible, letting out only faint traces of what he'd taken in. "About that. I didn't. I don't know why I-"
"Forget it. I wasn't exactly fighting you off and, we were both kinda drunk..." Neither know what to say after that, and the new silence isn't quite as comfortable the last one.
Gerard checks the map while Mikey taps a steady beat against the side of the van with his foot, and Frank says, "'Bout fuckin' time," when Otter and Ray get back.
"I would. Sober, I mean," Gerard says before the guys get close enough to hear. "I'd still do it if I were sober."
"Maybe when we run out of beer or money, we'll find out," Frank jokes, relieving Ray of the heavy weight of the beer he has and wasting no time in getting one open.
That evening they make it to the venue they're playing at. It's small and the crowd isn't huge but Mikey's nervous and drink-twitchy, and Gerard watches him pace around playing an imaginary bass to give his fingers something to do. His own stomach churns as usual, and he downs a few drinks to take his mind off of things.
Ray and Matt watch the crappy television set in the corner as they wait to be called for the tiny stage, and Frank watches Gerard fix his face in the mirror between large gulps of the free dink they've been given.
Frank pretty much stays in his corner during their set. Mostly in front of his stack, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with their equipment because everyone seems to be having problems except Gerard. But he only has his mic, so as long as the sound guy's doing his job that should be fine. Otter breaks three drumsticks, Mikey's bass somehow half detunes itself and Frank busts a string by the time they finish. And Gerard's mic may have technically been fine, but Gerard himslef had spent most of the show on his knees or with his back to the audience.
He staggers off as soon as they leave the stage, and Frank follows him. Through the hall and outside into the alley. When he catches up, Gerard's leant against the wall on his side, throwing up all over the floor. Frank doesn't ask if he's alright, just makes sure the hair is out of Gerard's face as he spews some more. He gets Gerard sat on his ass, not far enough away that they can't still smell the vomit, but at least he's not in danger of falling over. Gerard hangs his head between his knees anf Frank rubs his back.
"Thanks, man."
"Think you can walk back to the van?"
Gerard says, "Nope," matter-of-factly, let's his head thump back on the bricks behind him. "You bring any beer out with you?" Frank shakes his head, hands Gerard a cigarette instead. "Think you can get the van to me?"
"If you'll be okay for a minute I'll get the keys. Pretty sure I can drag you there."
"Doubt it, short-stuff," Gerard laughs. Frank flips him off and leaves him to go get the van key.
When he gets back after finding the guys and explaining about Gerard, Gerard isn't there. Frank heads towards the van, finding Gerard about halfway, leant up by a tree and puking on the sidewalk. He doesn't even flinch when Frank comes up behind him, pulls him to standing by his waist, just let's himself fall back against Frank, and they stumble like that the rest of the way back.
After one last throw-up outside the van, Gerard perks up a bit, says, "Thanks, man. Was fine until I got to that tree and then, whoosh," he guestures a falling motion with his hands, "couldn't keep my shit together anymore."
"No problem. You feelin' a little better now?" Franks asks, opeing the side of the van for Gerard to get in and lay on the seat.
Gerard pulls Frank in with him, "Yeah. Little. Where's everybody else?"
"Hauling our shit into the back room so we can pick it up in a while. They're stayin' for drinks."
Gerard pulls his feet up so Frank can sit on the end of the seat and close the door, and he lifts his head to see Frank just staring at him. "What?"
Frank keeps staring for a minute then looks away, "Nothing. Can I..." he trails his hand up Gerard's thigh and Gerard let's his head flop back down, stretches his legs over Frank's.
"Can you what?" Hesitantly Frank slides his fingers further up,rests his palm over the zipper on Gerard's jeans and rocks his palm back and forth a few times. "Oh, you don't, y'know, owe me or anything, for last night."
"I know," Frank shrugs even though Gerard's not looking. Not really doing much of anything. Except maybe in his jeans. The hint of an erection forming under Frank's palm, and he adds a little pressure to it.
"Mmm," Gerard hums, "pity handjob, the best kind."
"Stop being sarcastic. Since when do I do anything out of pity?"
Gerard says, "Good question," let's himself move against Frank's hand, and Frank keeps going, the two shots of Tequila Mikey made him down at the bar mixing nicely with everything else he'd had to drink during the day.
When Frank manages to take control of his hands enough to get Gerard's jeans open he rubs his eyes a few times, tries to stop himself seeing two of everthing and stop feeling like van's moving even though he knows it isn't. He manages to concentrate long enough to see how hard Gerard is, that there's a build up of pearly fluid threatening to drip onto Gerard's stomach, and he leans down to lick it away, not giving himself time to over-think it.
Gerard immediately clutches at Frank's hair, and he decides to stay there, just flicking his tongue across the head to get used to the bitterness. "Don't," Gerard mutters, and Frank thinks he's about to be pushed away, but Gerard continues, "don't tease. Just. Please."
It's now or never, Frank thinks. It's as good a time as any for what he's going to do, so before he can chicken out he holds the base of Gerard's dick, keeping him steady an he fits the head in his mouth. Having never sucked a guy off before, it's an odd feeling, to have Gerard thick and solid on his tongue, but Gerard's appreciative enough, so Frank just does what he knows feels good for him.
He licks from base to tip, moving his fingers delicately and slowly at first, as he alternates between licking and sucking, moving his tongue around as much as he can. He can feel the saliva building up over his knuckles, dribbling down the side of his hand. Gerard curses a couple of times, fists his hands in Frank's short hair and tugs him down onto his dick. It's not too far, Frank doesn't choke or anything, but it's far enough that he can feel it on the back of his tongue and he thinks maybe... Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world to do to a guy.
Gerard groans, "Frank?" and Frank just continues, thinking he must be doing a pretty awesome job. The next time it's more like a growl, "Frank!"
"What?" Frank asked, eyebrows furrowed, wondering what the problem was. Sticking his arm through the gap of seats, Gerard pulls a can of beer through, opening it immediately and taking a few swigs. "Are you kidding? You stopped me so you could drink?"
"Have some," Gerard replies, handing over the can pushing it into Frank's hands. Frank takes it, putting it to his lips, tipping his head back, and when he goes to set it down behind the front seat Gerard is there. Right there, legs pulled up and stiting right in Frank's face. "What?" Frank asks again, because seriously, what the fuck?
To answer him, Gerard pulls Frank in by the back of his neck, brushes his mouth across Frank's cheek and says, "I wanna fuck," then laughs.
And then Frank laughs, because it sounds so ridiculous. They're the only people in the van and. Oh. What?! He stops laughing and blinks long and hard, opening his eyes to see Gerard's ass swaying next to him as he fumbles around through their stuff over in the back. "You," he tries to say, poking at Gerard's side instead of the mass of bare skin available to him, "you and me?"
"Yeah," Gerard grins, flopping back down in the seat, "I don't see anyone else around. C'mon, here," he takes Frank's hand, tipping out some gel-like stuff that Frank isn't sure he wants to know the owner of, and spreading it over his fingers. "You just. Y'know, it's easy. Just like fucking a girl."
"I must've skipped this part then," Frank says, looking at his gel covered hand, and Gerard sniggers.
"I'm drunk, you're drunk, everything's relaxed. It'll be easy as fuck."
Yeah, Frank thinks, we are kinda wasted, and Gerard's just laying there waiting, so what's the dilemna? Can't be that weird. Gerard clears his throat loudly, and Frank's thoughts along with it. He watches Gerard frown and get up on his knees instead, hands braced against the side of the van. "Here goes nothin' then." Not being an expert, but having some idea of how it's supposed to work, Frank places one hand around the top of Gerard's thigh, and pushes his squidgy fingers at Gerard's ass, watching with interest as if it were someone elses hand instead. Instanly, Gerard pushes back, and Frank yanks his hand away, wincing. "I can't," he laughs. "I can't, y'know, with my. Ew. No. I just, I can't do it. It's weird."
"Lemme help you," Gerard says, reaching back to pull Frank's fingers to where they should be, pushing them inside and wriggling around them, "Just. Like that. Just do that." And when Frank concentrates, feels the muscles resisting, the tightness, the heat, he just wants more. His dick strains against his zipper and, fuck. He has to. Has to do it now. So it's a good thing when Gerard groans deeply and pulls himself away from Frank, turns around quicker than he can process and starts tugging at Frank's jeans to open them.
Frank asks, "Now?" all surprised and excited like it's his birthday or something, and Gerard says, "Yeah, now. Like, last fuckin' week, now," and kisses Frank sloppily.
It's pretty gross. Frank's hands fly up to Gerard's hair, pulling and twisting the ends, slipping through because of the gel, and he can taste the faint trace of vomit in Gerard's mouth, even over the beer, and it's almost enough to turn his stomach but not quite. "Let's go, short-stuff," Gerard mumbles, and Frank wants to protest but then Gerard's back where he was, ass swinging in the air, so Frank holds himself steady and goes for it.
It takes a couple of attempts after smothering his dick with the gel, because however much he wants it, Frank's coordination isn't quite on-board with the plan. And well, where he's aiming for is a bit of a tighter fit than what he's used to. But when he manages the right angle, with a bit of help from Gerard, he watches as his dick slowly disappears into Gerard's body inch by inch.
Slowly, because he can't bear to go faster. "Wow, that's. That's different," he says once in all the way. "I haven't, y'know, done this before." Frank runs his hands up under Gerard's t-shirt before quickly adding, "With a guy, I mean. Haven't done this with a guy."
"I realized that," Gerard says, trying not to laugh. "So, like, the rest is like fucking a girl, if that makes it easier for you."
Frank snorts, pulls out a little way, "A really tight girl," and thrusts forward hard, just once, feeling his balls slap against Gerard's. "God, you should've got me drunk enough to do this before."
Pushing back, urging Frank to move, Gerard tells him he'd better hurry up before anyone comes back, and Frank drags his short nails down Gerard's back in retaliation for his impatience. It makes him arch awkwardly, spit out something that doesn't really sound like a word of any kind, and fuck, Frank really likes that. He starts moving properly, thrusting and biting his lip as Gerard moans, clenches around him. He leans over Gerard's back, one hand on the seat-back and the other clutching Gerard's shoulder, using it to pull himself deeper as he fucks Gerard harder, not caring that his kness are rubbing on the coarse material of the seat.
He just starts to get a good rhythm, a steady smack of their skin connecting with each jerk of Frank's body, when Gerard shoves himself back really hard. So hard that it pushes Frank back onto his heels, disonnecting them completely. "What the fuck is it now?" Frank complains, and Gerard is quick to push him up against the seat, ripping off his own jeans from his ankles and sitting over Frank's lap.
"We're gonna do it like this, gonna fuck you real good," Gerard states, lowering himself down onto Frank's dick, legs either side of him, tucked up tight, holding the seat behind Frank's head for leverage. Gerard lifts up, slams down and let's his head fall back, groaning loudly, "Oh, oh yeah. That's it, Frank, that's the fucking spot!"
"Shit. There? S'good?" Frank pushes up, holds Gerard's hips tight enough to leave finger marks and just fucks him, bodies colliding when he shoves his hips up and Gerard pushes down.
"Mmm. Mmhyeah, Christ, there," Gerard thrashes his head around, falling to rest on Frank's shoulder, rocking against him relentlessly until Frank puts a sweaty hand to the front of Gerard's t-shirt to move him back a bit, and then wraps it around Gerard's dick.
He can't take his eyes off of Gerard's face, his expressions, the tightness of his jaw as he slides his fist up and down Gerard's length, feeling the weight in his palm, pulsing beneath his fingers. It's kind of intense and Frank's haze of alcohol is fading fast as he knows he's going to come soon. Gerard half hauls himself up, and half bucks hard into Frank's fist, spills all over Frank's fingers and his own t-shirt as he comes.
Frank fucking whimpers, he can't help it, and he moves as fast as he can, thrusting and panting as Gerard keeps clenching and gripping around his dick. It's only a few enthusiastic pumps necessary to have Frank coming. Coming hard and breathless inside Gerard, and Gerard presses forward, sucks on Frank's neck and let's him finish before moving from his thighs. Frank just sits still, plastered the seat as Gerard pulls his jeans up and checks out of the window quickly.
Nobody's coming back just yet, so Gerard slaps Frank's thigh playfully, "Hey! Earth to Frank? Get dressed, dude." Frank does as he's told almost on autopilot, happily accepting the beer and cigarette Gerard gives him, at a loss for words until he takes the first drag of smoke. "Shit," is all he can think to say anyway.
"Yeah." Gerard curls up in the corner, blows his smoke out of the window, "So... that was. You're okay, right? Not gonna freak out or anything?"
"Huh? Seriously?" Frank crawls over to sit with Gerard, turning and laying on his chest as he had the night before. "No freaking out, just more beer," he laughs, and Gerard kisses the side of his head as they wait for the other guys to get back.
.