Beach Music, girl!Brendon/Gerard 6A/12 NC-17
Title: Beach Music 6A/12
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing.
Notes: Het AU, Romance
Title comes from a song of the same name by long defunct semi-obscure Canadian band The Watchmen. The odd and somewhat nonsensical lyrics can be found here
Thanks to the awesome queen_geek, tweedle_,and spleenjournal for beta-ing, listening to me kvetch, holding my hand, and providing paperbags to breathe into, both virtual and actual.
1 2A 2B 3A 3B 4 5A 5B
Gerard does a shuffling run across the hot asphalt of the parking lot, ducking in between buses. He figures Brendon arrived maybe a half hour ago, based on her voice mail, and yeah, he can admit it--he’s anxious to see her. He’d been the victim de jour for the local radio station interview, and then had spent longer than he probably should have putting together a surprise for Brendon. He shakes his head and chuckles at how sappy he’s become-decides to blame old age. Finally rounding the My Chem bus, Gerard stops short in confusion at the group of people spilling out the door.
“What the…?” Gerard lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head and squints at Cortez, who’s leaning against the side of the bus.
Cortez looks at Gerard, a blissed out expression on his face, “Dude, she fuckin’ made us pancakes!” He holds up the pot lid serving as his plate and salutes Gerard.
Shoulders shaking with laughter, Gerard shoves his way through the knot of people and finds Brendon busy at the small range top, pouring batter into a worse for wear frying pan.“Save any for me?” He hooks his chin over her shoulder as his arms find their way around her waist.
“Of course!” Brendon laughs brightly, flipping the pancakes before turning to face Gerard. “And, before you make any Susie Homemaker cracks, or like alert Iron Chef America, or some shit, I should tell you they came from a box that you guys already had. I added water.” She turns around briefly to slide the pancakes on to a paper plate and, drizzling them in syrup from a small bottle, hands the whole thing to Gerard.
Taking a fork proffered by Worm, Gerard cuts into the breakfast food and chews enthusiastically. “Mmm…” Smiling, Gerard tips forward to brush a kiss across Brendon’s mouth.
“Mmm…syrup! Brendon licks her lips exaggeratedly before flicking her tongue across the seam of Gerard’s mouth. Happy, she leans back against the tiny countertop. “Hi, you!” She says, winding her arms around Gerard’s neck.
Gerard sets down the plate and moves his hands back to Brendon’s hips, deepening the kiss and ignoring the catcalls from the bus full of bands and techs. “Hey,” he says, finally drawing a breath. He stands up straight and smiles stupidly at Brendon.
Brendon’s grin softens a little, and she raises her hand, fingertip slowly tracing the worn Sharpie still legible on Gerard’s neck. “Bear?” she asks, running her finger nail along the B and making Gerard shiver.
“Um…yeah. That’s what people call you, right?” Gerard raises an eyebrow when Brendon laughs at him, kissing the embarrassed blush on his cheek.
“If by people you mean my friends and family who cling to a dumb childhood nickname, then yeah, people call me Bear.” She winds her arms around Gerard’s neck and replaces her finger with her mouth.
Gerard’s hands stroke across her lower back, squeezing and pulling Brendon closer to him. “You made my band pancakes.” His voice is an amused whisper.
Brendon cocks her head while at the same time flipping off Frank who is still catcalling and making lewd motions with his plastic fork. “I want them to like me.” Her lips curve up in a smug grin. “And, like my Mom always says, the second fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“Second?” Gerard keeps one hand around Brendon’s waist but can’t resist the allure of fresh, syrup drenched pancakes, and picks up his plate, shoving a forkful into his mouth. “What’s the fastest?” he asks, still chewing.
Shrugging, Brendon deadpans like it should be obvious, “His chest.” She picks up a butter knife and grinds it lightly into Gerard’s breastbone.
Gerard swallows and laughs, “I should have seen that one coming, right?”
“Dude, you left the door wide open!” Brendon laughs and gives the spatula to Worm with a peck on his cheek. “Okay, I’m handing over the torch. Don’t burn the hot cakes!”
She takes Gerard’s fork and stabs at the pancakes on his plate. “Speaking of open doors,” she cocks her chin towards the bus door, “wanna take a walk with me?” She jams the forkful into her mouth and grins, cheesy and wide.
“Yeah, sure!” Gerard puts his fingers through the belt loops of Brendon’s tiny Madras print shorts and steers her through the crowded bus. He takes her hand, laughing when she vaults down the bus steps and out into the parking lot.
Brendon darts a glance down at their joined hands and frowns for a second. “I’m sorry about, you know, about the photos that got onto the internet. From the airport, I mean.”
Gerard’s lips are a thin, crooked line when he rasps, “Oh fuck that shit! Just ‘cause some teenagers with camera phones get over excited doesn’t mean I’m not gonna hold your hand any more.” He brings Brendon’s fingers to his mouth and kisses her knuckles. “And if some assholes wanna hide in the bushes, I’m sure as fuck not gonna quit kissing you!” Gerard stops short, and Brendon bounces into him. He tilts her chin up, kissing her soundly, then delicately drawing his lips across the faded scratch her cheek. He gives a short nod, and carries on across the lot.
“Oh. Okay. I just…just wanted to make sure…” Brendon’s grin is goofy, but her shoulders lower and she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Still clutching tight to Gerard’s hand, she skips across the sun baked asphalt. “So, I dunno where my bags went. I think Worm took ‘em somewhere.”
“Yeah, probably to the other bus.” Gerard swings their joined hands between them and, squinting, flips his sunglasses down over his eyes.
“Other bus?”
Gerard juts his chin towards a sleek, black bus. “Yeah, Mikes and Frank call it the Married Bus.”
Brendon can sense Gerard’s eyeroll and she giggles when, having steered them in that direction, Gerard opens the bus door and ushers her inside. “That was a short walk!”
“It’s too fuckin’ hot to be wandering around out there.”
Brendon stops and turns around at the top of the stairs, and leaning in for a kiss says, “Maybe if you weren’t dressed like you were going to find The Blair Witch you might be more comfortable.” She runs her fingers down the sleeves of Gerard’s hoodie and unzips it.
“Dunno, seems pretty comfortable here to me,” Gerard’s grin is full and happy as he brings his lips to Brendon’s, kissing her properly; slow and lazy and his tongue teasing against hers. His hands slide up from where they’re bracketing her hips, tracing her ribs beneath her t-shirt and he mumbles, “Nice shirt,” against her lips.
Brendon pushes away from his, glaring, “Dude, do not talk shit about Journey, okay? Steve Perry is the man!” She tugs at the red sleeves of her baseball shirt.
“Hey! I’m agreeing with you!” Gerard reels her back in and ghosts a kiss across the faint, bottle green remainder of the bruise on under her eye. “Jersey, right?”
“Exactly!” Brendon snorts and turns to continue on into the bus’s interior. Only to stop short, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. “Gerard! What?” Her voice trails off and she stares around the room, at the vases full of flowers, everywhere, and then turns to stare at Gerard.
Relieved, Gerard smiles, “Yeah, well, surprises are awesome, right? I know most guys go for roses, but these reminded me more of you.” He wraps one arm around her waist, pulling Brendon close, and reaches out his free hand to stroke a thumb across the petals of a bright pink Gerbera daisy.
“Surprises are definitely awesome!” Brendon dances up on to her toes and flits around the bus’s front lounge, touching the flowers that are in vases on every flat surface. “And you’re awesome!” She grabs Gerard’s face between his hands and kisses him hard, laughing. “You didn’t have to do this!”
“I know, but I wanted to. You deserve romantic stuff, you know. Considering the first time we…” Gerard stops and shrugs awkwardly, biting off his smile and tilting his head to kiss Brendon once again.
Brendon ducks away from him, and extends her arms, making space. She’s not exactly pushing Gerard away, but she's not encouraging him close, either. “What’s there to consider about the first time we fucked?” Her eyes are narrowed and she’s chewing on her bottom lip.
“Brendon, I just meant it wasn’t the best…situation. I thought maybe I could…make it up to you.” Gerard sighs, confused by Brendon’s sudden anger, and jams his hands into his pockets, leaning a hip against one of the lounge couches.
“You’re embarrassed aren’t you?” Brendon tugs at her bangs, glaring at Gerard. “You’re ashamed that the first thing you did when we met was bang the shit out of me,” she folds her arms across her chest.
“Look, I just,” Gerard winces and flings his arms wide, “maybe sometimes I think that it should have gone different. Like, I feel maybe I should have known better.”
“Better?” Brendon’s eyes are a deep, hurt brown beneath the guarded fall of her lashes.
Gerard scratches at his nose, and sighs in frustration. “I’m not explaining this very well. I just…you were really drunk. And I, fuck Queen Bee, I took advantage of you.” He drops her gaze to study the pattern of the carpet.
“No you didn’t!” Brendon cries and reaches for Gerard’s hand.
“Yeah, I did.” Gerard nods grimly. “And sometimes I regret that was our first time together.” His fingers thread with hers and he studies the slow slide of his thumb across her knuckles.
“You would have stopped if I asked you to.” Brendon’s voice is small and quiet.
Eyes sad and studying Brendon’s down-turned face, Gerard replies gently, “Honey, you can’t know that.”
“I can! I do!” Brendon clutches at Gerard’s arm. “You’d never hurt me. You didn’t take advantage Gerard. I wanted it. I wanted you! ” Her voice is watery, but emphatic. “And I can’t regret what happened, or how it happened. I can’t. If it didn’t happen then we wouldn’t be here, now. I won’t regret it.” She swallows and then flings herself at Gerard, wrapping him in a fierce hug, nose tucked into his hair.
Smoothing his hands up and down Brendon’s sides, bunching up the soft cotton of her t-shirt, Gerard says, “Jesus, Brendon, I didn’t mean to start shit. I really didn’t. I just wanted to show you how fucking glad I am that you’re here.” He reaches over and plucks one of the daisies from a vase, tickling it across her chin. “I know you were sort of nervous about this week end, with the guys or whatever, and I just wanted to make you feel…wanted. Big gestures, you know?” Using two fingers under her jaw, Gerard tilts Brendon’s face to his and kisses the tip of her nose.
Face splitting into a genuine grin, Brendon darts forward to kiss Gerard. “I like your big gestures, Gerard Way. And I like you.” She kisses him--quick touches of her mouth on his. “And I like being here with you. I’m sorry I’m a drama princess sometimes.” She wriggles out of his embrace and takes the flower from his hand, twirling it between her fingers. “Who’s got two thumbs and is an emotional moron?” She jerks a raised thumb at her chest and says, “This guy!”
“Aww, honey!” Brendon lets herself be reeled into the circle of Gerard’s arms, his hands resting comfortably low at the small of her back. She sighs into his kiss and hooks her wrists at the back of his neck. Gerard can’t help but still feel a lingering sense of shame at his behavior that first night he met Brendon. But he holds her close, and she seems comfortable and okay with how things started, and more than okay with how things are going, now.
“I’m glad I decided to come,” she whispers against his mouth. She moves her hands to squeeze at the soft flesh above the waistband of Gerard’s jeans. “Hey Sailor, take me to your bunk and I’ll show you how glad I am!” She chuckles, low and dirty, and waggles her eyebrows.
Gerard laughs and runs his hands up under Brendon’s t-shirt. “Nope.”
“You don’t wanna take me to your bunk?” Brendon bites her lip and flutters her eyelashes. “I’m stone cold sober,” she sing-songs and pokes her finger into Gerard’s belly, emphasizing her words.
Emitting a Pillsbury Doughboyesque squeak, Gerard makes a grab for her teasing hand and says, “Nope, no bunk.”
“What?”
Gerard grabs the daisy from Brendon’s fingers and flings it onto the sofa, then takes her hand and leads her through the bus. “See? No back lounge and no bunks!” He slides open a door, and Brendon’s jaw drops open in surprise.
“Oh, holy shit! There’s an actual bed?” She wriggles her fingers free of Gerard’s and reaches into her pocket. Holding up her Sidekick she starts snapping photos and then flicks open to the keyboard. “I totally have to show this to Ryan. This is fantastic!” She finishes sending her email and then flops onto the bed, bouncing and reaching out her arms to Gerard. “Ridin’ in style!” She laughs.
Gerard’s laugh comes out in a snort as he eases down beside her. “Nothin’ but the best!” he slurs against her jaw.
“Mmm hmmm,” Brendon replies--distracted, too busy attempting to peel Gerard’s shirt off, and roaming gently teasing finger tips across his chest to pay much attention to what he’s saying. When he sits up to yank his t-shirt roughly over his head, Brendon takes advantage of the space between them to wiggle out of her own shirt. She makes a happy purring sound in the back of her throat at the feeling of Gerard’s skin, warm against her own.
Tracing the curve of his smile along Brendon’s collarbones, Gerard’s strokes his fingers over the satin of her bra, reaching beneath the underwire in search of soft skin. Brendon’s delighted squeaks and her squirming let Gerard know that the pad of his thumb has found the underside of her breast. With his other hand he reaches around the narrow span of her ribcage and unhooks the tiny slip of fabric. Rising up from the bed slightly, Brendon shimmies out of her bra and flings her arms wide, bringing Gerard down on top of her.
They kiss, slow, and wet and like they have all the time in the world to do whatever they want, however they want. Gerard’s tongue darts clever strokes across Brendon’s wide bottom lip, and her grin grows bigger still as she tries to nip at it. “What d’ya want, Bee?” Gerard’s whisper is loud in the small room. His fingernails scratch across Brendon’s stomach as he kisses her, raising goose bumps in their wake. “We’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me.”
Brendon’s fingers snarl in Gerard’s messy hair and she gasps as he scratches at a particularly sensitive spot, just below her navel. “You could, you know, like, lick me…if you want.” Her voice is a low rasp and her eyes flutter shut.
Gerard grins into her skin, shifting on the mattress to reach up and swipe his tongue tip along the clear line of her carotid artery. “Anything else I can do for you?” He whispers sweetly into her ear.
Barking out a startled laugh, Brendon bats at the roundness of Gerard’s shoulder and says, “No, um, I mean can you lick me…down there?” She swivels her hips and cups Gerard’s skull, the strands of his hair slipping through her fingers.
Gerard’s pretty proud that me manages to muffle most of the laughter that bubbles up in his chest at Brendon’s words. He kisses at the haughty pout of her lips and says, “Down there, huh?” and smirks at her, a gleam in his eyes.
Bringing both knees up so her feet are planted on the bed, Brendon’s pretty pout turns into a disgruntled frown as she says, "Fuck you very much. You know what I mean." She blows a breath out through her bangs, and runs her fingertips lightly across Gerard’s shoulders.
“Yeah, you know, I think I do.” Gerard’s mouth slides down Brendon’s neck as his fingers draw playful circles around the fastener of her shorts.
Bucking up into the touch, Brendon pout-frowns and says,“What do you want me to call it?” She gasps a little when Gerard lowers her zipper, his fingers teasing inside the fabric. “I could go all porny for you and call it my pussy.” She says the last word in an exaggerated, breathy growl.
Gulping audibly, Gerard says, hushed but enthusiastic, “Yeah, you could.” He strokes the pads of his fingers across the firmness of Brendon’s stomach.
Brendon laughter is a full out, bright giggle. “Oh my God. All dudes are so fucking predictable, man. Pussy!” She makes a fussy, unimpressed face. “Pussy, pussy, pussy. Sounds like some kind of old lady calling her cat. How the fuck is that hot?”
“Jesus Christ!” Gerard laughs and lowers his head to rest on the swell of Brendon’s hip.
“Seriously. Oh baby! Eat my pussy!” She grabs Gerard’s shoulder and grinds herself against him, exaggeratedly. “Only a dude could get turned on by that, I swear.”
Gerard doesn’t argue, his eyes crinkle, and his mouth curls with sheepish self-deprecation, hiccuping out a laugh. He manages a distracted, “Err…” before swiping his grin against the bunched fabric of Brendon’s shorts.
On a roll, Brendon unconsciously teases the thickness of Gerard’s hair between her fingers as she talks, “And man, a cunt is someone who cuts you off in traffic. That’s definitely not sexy.”
“Nope, that’s not sexy at all.” Gerard manages to agree placatingly between fits of laughter. His fingers wheedle their way up the leg of Brendon’s shorts to cup the firm curve of an ass cheek, making her pause in her monologue long enough to make an aroused moan and spread her legs wider in encouragement.
Squeezing the back of Gerard’s neck, she puckers her lips and flutters her eyelashes, then sings in a high girly voice nothing at all like her natural vocal range, “Pussy pussy! Cunt cunt! Pussy pussy cunt!” while mischievously swiveling her hips beneath Gerard’s cheek.
Giving up any hope of containing his laughter, Gerard turns his head, snorting into the bedspread. He laughs even harder when Brendon’s hip swivel turns into a full out, ridiculous dance accompanying her nonsense song, all while lying prone, half naked and spread out on the mattress. She snaps her fingers and pops her hips and her breasts bob along to the beat. “Pussy! Pussy! Cunt!” she finishes with gusto, her hair smashed into the pillows beneath her head.
“Brendon! Oh my God!” Gerard drops his hold on Brendon’s hip and ass to clutch helplessly at his stomach, trying to catch his breath. He rolls around in mirth and manages to roll off the bed, onto the floor with a bus shaking bang. “Oof!”
Brendon concludes her impromptu serenade and peers hesitantly down at Gerard, her eyebrows flirting with her hairline in surprise. “Um…sorry?” She bites her lip and extends a hand to help Gerard up. As Gerard gets to his feet, one knee on the bed, Brendon shimmies quickly out of her shorts, and feigning impatience says, “C’mon Daddy, you gonna go down on me or what?”
Gerard’s hand freezes in mid-air, fingers poised at the elastic of Brendon’s pale pink thong. He blinks dumbly and says, “Um, honey? If you want my dick to stay hard enough to give you any kind of happy ending? Please,” he stops and squeezes her hip, giving her a wide-eyed, imploring look. “Please! Never, ever call me Daddy when we’re in bed. Or anywhere else, for that matter.” He shudders as he settles himself back down beside Brendon.
Laughing, Brendon nods, “Right then. There’s such a thing as too porny. Got it!” She snorts, but her laughter is cut short as Gerard teases one nipple between his teeth, tongue dragging lazy circles around the fullness of her breast. “Okay then,” she sucks in a breath. “Gerard Way, will you please perform cunnilingus on me?” She folds her hands together at her breasts, and gazes at Gerard with comical pleading.
“You’re too fucking much, you know that?” Gerard lifts his mouth to hers and mutters against her grin.
“That’s what she said.” They both crack up, snorting with laughter, and leaning into each other. Their laughter slows as Brendon shifts to stroke her hands in greedy swipes across Gerard’s bare back. “Mmm, missed this,” she says, low and serious while nuzzling at the pudgy flesh at his armpit.
“What, my skin?” Gerard trails his lips in lazy formless patterns across Brendon’s neck and shoulders, his fingertips teasing at the top of her panties.
“Mmm hmmm. S’soft--and yummy.” She licks and bites to illustrate her point and Gerard emits a high pitched squeak that makes Brendon snicker. But, soon enough she’s making undignified noises of her own as Gerard’s hand snakes underneath her thong to slip his fingers into the wetness between her legs. “So, yeah…gobble gobble!” she says brightly as Gerard’s breaths burrs low on her belly.
Gerard’s hands still, and his eyes are narrowed slits when he raises his head to meet Brendon’s glance. “Can we file quoting Gigli away under: Things to Never Say in Bed? Okay? Thanks!” Gerard’s serious tone is wrecked by the smile quirking his lips. Tracing along the cut of her hip, Gerard eases the silk scrap of her thong down her legs.
Brendon shudders and raises up from the bed a little, allowing Gerard to slowly drag her panties off. She laughs, breathy and low, and says, “Right. Sure. No problem.” She tilts the shallow pan of her pelvis upwards, and encourages Gerard to sprawl between her legs, petting at his hair. “Mmm…after you make me come I’m gonna blow you.” She licks her lips at the feel of Gerard’s breath, and the scrape of his teeth over her clit. “God, I miss your cock in my mouth,” her voice is rough and she’s squirming beneath Gerard’s touch. “You taste so good.” Eyes closed, Brendon stretches her arms over her head, sucking the fullness of her bottom lip into her mouth.
“Shit honey, the things you say,” groaning, Gerard kisses the slope of Brendon’s pelvic bone, nuzzling and swiping licks across her soft skin. “Got an idea,” he mumbles. He unbuttons his jeans and hastily shoves them down to tangle at his calves. Doing an awkward backwards shuffle up the bed, he flops down, giving Brendon a close up view of his sparsely haired thighs.
“Oh!” Brendon reaches out and pets eager palms over the stretch of skin at Gerard’s hips, and says, “69! Rock the fuck on! I’ve never done this before.” She rolls closer and licks, cat-like at the head of Gerard’s cock. His answering moan shudders through Brendon’s skin, and she pants around the thick length of him. Brendon tugs at Gerard’s thigh, just under the curve of his ass, encouraging him to arch over her. Distracted as he is by the clever heat of Brendon’s mouth, Gerard underestimates the arch of his knee and ends up glancing his shin hard off Brendon’s still-sore cheekbone. “Ow.” She pulls back from her enthusiastic sucking to rub at the spot.
“Shit, sorry, sorry.” Gerard gasps out, stretching to catch Brendon’s eye. “You okay?”
Brendon nods eagerly, and then strokes her curled fingers down around Gerard’s erection. “Yeah, just, maybe we should do this on our sides?” She abandons her plan to have Gerard’s legs on either side of her head and curls over, kissing his hip and sucking his length into her mouth once more, swirling her tongue. Gerard returns his mouth to suck a wicked rhythm to the slickness of her. Brendon can’t stop the slow sway of her hips beneath Gerard’s mouth, and she hitches to meet every lick and touch.
Gerard hisses and says, “Uh fuck,” in a way that indicates pain rather than pleasure. Distracted, Brendon slows her hollow-cheek sucking to peer down her body, trying to see if Gerard’s okay. “Foot--hair.” Brendon can see the quick in and out of his breath, and she doesn’t resist when he raises a hand to reposition her leg.
“Sorry,” she licks a trail from under Gerard’s belly button, through the thicket of his pubic hair, and laps enthusiastically at his cock, slick and wet with precome and spit. Settled, they eventually find a rhythm of gently bucking hips and sure, seeking mouths. The quiet of the room is punctuated with low sounds of pleasure and encouragement, and the whisper of hands on skin.
Brendon’s movements become more erratic and sloppy, and it occurs to Gerard that the sounds she’s making are more of frustration than arousal. “You okay, Queen Bee?” he manages to gather his wits enough to say.
“Unh…” Brendon has removed her mouth from Gerard’s cock, and is rolling her forehead against his hip. Cheeks pink and hair plastered to her face with perspiration, she turns to look at Gerard, worry in her big eyes. “I’m just…I’m not…” She makes a frustrated gesture, balling a fist against the bed covers.
“What the fuck’s wrong now?” Gerard attempts to keep his voice soft and concerned, rather than fed up and on the verge of angry. It’s a close call, given that his rock hard cock is bobbing against the inside of Brendon’s forearm and Gerard is seconds away from coming, with her help or not.
Brendon flings an arm towards Gerard and, voice wobbling, says, “You’re doing that. And I’m trying to do this,” she jabs a finger at Gerard's balls, a little too close for comfort. “And I’m just…it’s… I have ADD!” She struggles to sit up a little, resting her weight back on her elbows.
Gerard’s brows furrow in a puzzled frown. “Huh?”
“Oh my God, you’re so fucking good at, at that! ” Brendon juts her chin to indicate where Gerard is resting his cheek against the inside of her thigh. “And I’m supposed to be sucking you off. But like, it’s too much, you know? Too many…things. All at once,” she waves her hands, “and I’m just afraid I’m gonna like, bite your dick off, or something!” She slumps back, a defeated pout on her face.
Taking a deep breath, Gerard manages not to laugh, only because he’s so turned on he can barely see, and is having problems with constructing any kind of thought beyond must get off NOW. He soothes a hand, warm and comforting across Brendon’s bottom. “Honey, I thought we could try it. If it’s not good, if you can’t…” he waves along their bodies, “then, we don’t have to. Okay?” He presses a kiss under her navel.
“No! No! I mean, I want to. I do. I really, really do. But uh…” Brendon runs her hand through her hair, and the color in her cheeks deepens with embarrassment. “Maybe I could, I mean if you don’t mind…I could, like…” She leans over and strokes her fist in a tight curl from the base of Gerard’s cock, then flits her fingers over the head, smearing precome into warm skin.
Gerard makes a small noise through his nose. “Bren, I dunno if you’ve noticed, but, I’m a guy, right? And no guy would ever, ever turn down a chance to get off. Hand job, blow job, whatever.”
Brendon giggles with relief. She flops back down onto the bed and manages to continue jacking Gerard with strong, sure fingers. Her grip falters-rhythm stuttering when Gerard puts his mouth on her, tongue licking across her clit, but she bites off a moan and flicks her fingertips under his cock to tease at Gerard’s balls. He groans into her skin, biting and sucking. The pressure of her fingers on the hardness of Gerard’s erection increases and he hacks out a string of nonsense, come spattering Brendon’s hand and arm. She wipes some of it off on the blankets, then smears the rest into his skin as she continues to jack him through the twitching jerks of his aftershocks.
His whoosh of breath between her legs makes Brendon whine loudly, but she’s relieved to no longer have to focus on getting Gerard off, and can instead sink into the fire bright sensations building low in her belly. She squeezes and bites at the soft flesh of Gerard’s thighs, rocking her hips in pleasure. When Gerard slips two fingers inside her, his thumb and tongue still teasing at her clit, Brendon bucks her hips up into his face and only just manages to muffle her scream in the soft give of Gerard’s stomach.
The shivers shooting through Brendon turn to full out shakes and she whines, high pitched and uncontrolled, as Gerard continues to mouth at her, his fingers teasing in and out in counterpoint. “Are you cold?” Gerard crawls up beside Brendon, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.
She can’t quite manage to speak, just shakes her head and burrows close. A blissed out smile curves her lips as tremors and aftershocks trip through her system. She runs lazy hands over Gerard’s shoulders and back, and doesn’t object when he settles the blanket over them. “Mmm…sleep now, okay? Then I totally want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah,” Gerard’s voice is a low whisper as he kisses the top of Brendon’s head and then rests his cheek against the softness of her hair.
***
“And he’s like, half guy, half gorilla. People call him Spaceboy which kind of pisses him off.” Gerard is babbling away, patiently explaining what his pencil is scratching across the paper; all shading and thick lines. The index finger of his free hand is hooked under the drooping spaghetti strap of Brendon’s sundress, slipping it up and down the soft skin of her upper arm.
Brendon’s arms are around Gerard’s waist, her chin over his shoulder. She’s snuggled close and listening intently as he explains the concept and characters for the comic book Darkhorse is putting out. “And Spaceboy, I’ve missed you! Spinning round my head. And any way you choose me, you’ll break instead!” Brendon sings enthusiastically.
“Yeah!” Gerard turns his head to brush a kiss across Brendon’s jaw, delighted that she’s gotten the reference.
She hugs him tighter and pets at the slight round of his belly. “Of course--Smashing fucking Pumpkins, man--best ever!”
Whatever Gerard was going to say in reply is lost in a hail of boisterous cursing and yelling from the other side of the lounge. “For fuck’s sake, Mikey! Little help here? You’re always fucking up the damn raid!” Ray is clearly displeased.
“Trouble in Azeroth, Torosaurus?” Brendon calls across the room from her position wound around Gerard.
Ray hits a series of keys and then closes his laptop. “Fuckin’ Mikey, man.”
“Aww, did Way the Younger prevent you from overcoming the oppressor, yet again?” Brendon prances over and pets at Ray’s hair. “Poor much maligned Horde. Those nasty NPCs are out to get you!” Beneath the battered paperback tented over his face Frank is barely containing his giggles, clearly listening to what’s going on and not asleep as the others thought.
Mikey sulks and says, “Well, if some people would stop being so fucking sensitive and actually, you know, fuck shit up instead of telling other people what to do…”
Ray just glares, and Brendon gives his shoulder a consolatory squeeze. “That’s why you gotta show them your moves!” She extends her arms over her head while at the same time swaying her hips in a studied, sinuous movement. She brings her arms slowly down, flitting them behind her in an undulating gesture that keeps time with the sway of her hips and the bend and twist of her thighs, allowing for slow motion booty pops as she turns in a circle.
“Oh, God, I knew it! I fucking knew you’d be a night elf!” Mikey glares at Brendon while Gerard stares at her, jaw-dropped and more turned on than he’d ever admit to anyone.
“I’m not bad; I’m just drawn this way!” Gerard and Frank are no longer making any effort to suppress their laughter. Ray gets pissed off easy in the middle of a game, but cools off soon after. And really, even he has to admit that the whole Brendon versus Mikey World of Warcraft showdown 2007 is fuckin’ hilarious. “And dude! I can’t help it if people wanna give me presents. It would be rude to say no!”
“Fuckin’ stuck up pretty boy manna hoarders.” Mikey grouses, crossing his arms and glaring at his computer screen.
“So hey, I have this blood elf alter if you’re interested…” Gerard leaves his sketch pad, crossing the small space to join the discussion. Coming up behind Brendon, he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her close, kissing her neck.
He whispers all the blood elf’s stats into Brendon’s ear and she laughs, dancing her fingertips across his forearms where they hold her close. “Oh baby, talk dirty to me,” she giggles, purposely moving her ass against Gerard’s crotch in a suggestive manner. “But nah, I like RP, and it’s just for fun. I’m not, you know, hard core or anything.” She arches an eyebrow towards Mikey and Ray, still sprawled on the floor between the lounge couches.
Frank manages to interrupt his giggles enough to say, “And Bren baby, when ol’ Gee the Ogre’s dick starts to rot off you can come see me! I’ll treat you right.”
“Wow. Jamia won a prize when she got you," Brendon leans back against Gerard, smirking at Frank, who’s still sprawled on the couch.
Frank bats his eyelashes and coos, “Love is blind.”
“Or in your case, deaf. And possibly retarded.” Ray stands and stretches and, playfully shoving at Mikey’s shoulder heads out of the lounge. “Gonna go work on some songs. Can’t fuck that up," he mutters as he passes.
Brendon snickers and tilts her head to kiss Gerard. “S’nice outside, think I’m gonna grab a smoke. Wanna come with?”
Gerard wrinkles up his nose and says regretfully, “Nah, I gotta finish these edits to send off to Darkhorse.”
“Kay,” Brendon shrugs out of his embrace, and along with Ray, heads to the front of the bus.
***
Brendon slips her sunglasses over her eyes as she skips off the bus and into the sticky afternoon heat of the parking lot. She lights a cigarette, leaning back against the door, and a bright scrap of fabric catches her eye. Brian, clad in a sky blue t-shirt and jean shorts, is sitting on the grassy hillock that slopes down to the expressway. His back is to her and she smiles a little to herself. Maybe this is the opening she’s been looking for. She makes her way over to him, flopping down at his side and pulling the loose jersey cotton of her dress down snug over her calves. Exhaling a puff of smoke Brendon says, in the best conversational tone she can muster, “Counting cars?”
Brian glances at her from the corner of his eye, lips pursed around his own cigarette. “Yeah--red ones.” He scratches a tattooed forearm but doesn’t turn his attention from the highway.
“How many so far?” Brendon matches his tone, resting her chin on her knees.
“Twelve.” He smirks. “Brendon, I realize I maybe…shot my mouth off,in L.A.--overstepped some bounds. But, they’re my responsibility. The last time Gerard…things almost ended, for everyone. It was too close, it can’t happen again, do you understand? I won’t let it happen again. This band is everything. I’m responsible to make sure that what happened…doesn’t happen again. I’m responsible for Gerard. ”
“Fourteen.” Brendon gestures at the busy highway with her cigarette. Still staring straight ahead, she says softly, “I understand that you reserve the right to bounce me out on my perky ass. I also understand that your pay check is directly linked to them staying out of trouble, and staying a band.”
Brendon’s smile is sad when she hears Brian’s breath catch, and he starts to say, “That’s not…”
“Now you know how it feels to have people judge you when they don’t know anything about you.” She keeps her tone casual and her eyes on the road. “And I know I wasn’t there to see Gerard bottom out. But that doesn’t mean I don’t…know things,” she takes a deep drag and watches the grey-white plume of her exhalation vanish in the blue sky. “I’m just gonna talk, so please, just listen.”
Making no reply, Brian gives a short, affirmative nod and waits for Brendon to continue.
“I’m twenty. I’m not an idiot. Ryan Ross is my best friend. His father is…was…a violent alcoholic. When he was drinking he would throw things and say terrible shit to anyone who was around. I wished I could stop him. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how. And he didn’t want to,” Brendon uses her free hand to brush at her flip flops and pick at the flecks of freshly mown grass stuck to her toes.
“And then, when we got signed, we toured with this band, and I met this amazing guy. He was funny, and talented, and had this sweet, lazy smile. And I wanted more than anything to be it for him, you know? And so he drank a little, right?” She sighs and turns her attention to plucking at a stray brown thread on the hem of her dress. Brian is silent and still beside her, and even if she doesn’t turn her head to look at him, she can tell she has his attention. “But I didn’t know that the wine was washing down pills. And I didn’t know that the wine was to cover up the bottles of vodka and Jack. And I didn’t know he was so angry. And I didn’t know how to make him stop.”
Brendon holds her pack of Camel Lights out to Brian, noticing as he grinds the butt of his own spent cigarette with the toe of his boot. He takes one and nods his thanks, lighting up. “But Gerard,” she says softly, her lips involuntarily tilting up in a smile, “God, I know I didn’t see the shit that went down, or the hell that everyone went through. But…but he did it, you know? He decided it was worth it. There’s a part of him that’s good, and gentle, and strong, and knew what he needed to do to get well. To stay well.” She looks at Brian over top of her sunglasses, “He took responsibility for himself. And every day he doesn’t drink, every day he doesn’t get high, every day he gets out of fucking bed,” Brendon jabs at the air with her cigarette to make her point, ash floating on the otherwise un-noticeable breeze, “is a gift. It’s a small, perfect miracle. And I know how blessed and lucky I am that he lets me be a part of that. I get it. I totally do. And I will not do anything to fuck that up.”
Brendon licks her lips, stubbing her cigarette out in the grass and jutting her chin towards the endless stream of passing cars. “Twenty,” is all she says as she stands. She pats Brian on the shoulder and then turns to walk back across the parking lot to the bus.
Later, Brian finds Gerard sitting on a picnic table, watching as Brendon and Frank--standing on top of the tour bus--attempt to fly one of the big paper kites Ray’d bought in Japan. Brian knocks his shoulder against Gerard’s and steals his cigarette. “So, I think I just got the most polite ass kicking, ever. Your girlfriend…”
“Brendon,” Gerard interrupts.
“Brendon,” Brian parrots back at him, “She’s a good kid.”
“Oh yeah?” Gerard smirks behind his sunglasses and steals back his smoke.
“Yeah.”
“Well damn, I’m glad you approve.” It’s said teasingly, tone sarcastic, but Gerard means it. He is glad; he never realized how important it is to him for all the people he cares about to get along. And if Brian and Brendon had mended whatever it was between them, that was a huge step in the right direction. “So, when Brendon told me what you did? What you said to her? I wanted to fuck your shit up so bad, dude.”
Brian snorts, exhaling a thick plume of smoke, and says “Whatever, man.”
“Fuck you, I totally coulda. I have rage, man.” Gerard lightly bumps his fisted knuckles against Brian’s knee. “Bren, though--she wouldn’t let me. She said that it was between the two of you. But, for the record? Manage the band, man. Not my personal life. That shit’s just insulting.”
“If you can get your head out of your ass long enough to keep your dick off the internet? It would be my honor and privilege to let you two crazy kids mind your own damn business.” Brian’s words are sharp, but lacking in venom. He watches as Gerard winces, then nods-a short, curt movement. Brian opens his mouth to say something else but there’s a triumphant cheer from atop the bus and he and Gerard both watch the kite take flight, bobbing and dancing in the afternoon sun.
Continue to 6B
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: NC-17
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing.
Notes: Het AU, Romance
Title comes from a song of the same name by long defunct semi-obscure Canadian band The Watchmen. The odd and somewhat nonsensical lyrics can be found here
Thanks to the awesome queen_geek, tweedle_,and spleenjournal for beta-ing, listening to me kvetch, holding my hand, and providing paperbags to breathe into, both virtual and actual.
1 2A 2B 3A 3B 4 5A 5B
Gerard does a shuffling run across the hot asphalt of the parking lot, ducking in between buses. He figures Brendon arrived maybe a half hour ago, based on her voice mail, and yeah, he can admit it--he’s anxious to see her. He’d been the victim de jour for the local radio station interview, and then had spent longer than he probably should have putting together a surprise for Brendon. He shakes his head and chuckles at how sappy he’s become-decides to blame old age. Finally rounding the My Chem bus, Gerard stops short in confusion at the group of people spilling out the door.
“What the…?” Gerard lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head and squints at Cortez, who’s leaning against the side of the bus.
Cortez looks at Gerard, a blissed out expression on his face, “Dude, she fuckin’ made us pancakes!” He holds up the pot lid serving as his plate and salutes Gerard.
Shoulders shaking with laughter, Gerard shoves his way through the knot of people and finds Brendon busy at the small range top, pouring batter into a worse for wear frying pan.“Save any for me?” He hooks his chin over her shoulder as his arms find their way around her waist.
“Of course!” Brendon laughs brightly, flipping the pancakes before turning to face Gerard. “And, before you make any Susie Homemaker cracks, or like alert Iron Chef America, or some shit, I should tell you they came from a box that you guys already had. I added water.” She turns around briefly to slide the pancakes on to a paper plate and, drizzling them in syrup from a small bottle, hands the whole thing to Gerard.
Taking a fork proffered by Worm, Gerard cuts into the breakfast food and chews enthusiastically. “Mmm…” Smiling, Gerard tips forward to brush a kiss across Brendon’s mouth.
“Mmm…syrup! Brendon licks her lips exaggeratedly before flicking her tongue across the seam of Gerard’s mouth. Happy, she leans back against the tiny countertop. “Hi, you!” She says, winding her arms around Gerard’s neck.
Gerard sets down the plate and moves his hands back to Brendon’s hips, deepening the kiss and ignoring the catcalls from the bus full of bands and techs. “Hey,” he says, finally drawing a breath. He stands up straight and smiles stupidly at Brendon.
Brendon’s grin softens a little, and she raises her hand, fingertip slowly tracing the worn Sharpie still legible on Gerard’s neck. “Bear?” she asks, running her finger nail along the B and making Gerard shiver.
“Um…yeah. That’s what people call you, right?” Gerard raises an eyebrow when Brendon laughs at him, kissing the embarrassed blush on his cheek.
“If by people you mean my friends and family who cling to a dumb childhood nickname, then yeah, people call me Bear.” She winds her arms around Gerard’s neck and replaces her finger with her mouth.
Gerard’s hands stroke across her lower back, squeezing and pulling Brendon closer to him. “You made my band pancakes.” His voice is an amused whisper.
Brendon cocks her head while at the same time flipping off Frank who is still catcalling and making lewd motions with his plastic fork. “I want them to like me.” Her lips curve up in a smug grin. “And, like my Mom always says, the second fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“Second?” Gerard keeps one hand around Brendon’s waist but can’t resist the allure of fresh, syrup drenched pancakes, and picks up his plate, shoving a forkful into his mouth. “What’s the fastest?” he asks, still chewing.
Shrugging, Brendon deadpans like it should be obvious, “His chest.” She picks up a butter knife and grinds it lightly into Gerard’s breastbone.
Gerard swallows and laughs, “I should have seen that one coming, right?”
“Dude, you left the door wide open!” Brendon laughs and gives the spatula to Worm with a peck on his cheek. “Okay, I’m handing over the torch. Don’t burn the hot cakes!”
She takes Gerard’s fork and stabs at the pancakes on his plate. “Speaking of open doors,” she cocks her chin towards the bus door, “wanna take a walk with me?” She jams the forkful into her mouth and grins, cheesy and wide.
“Yeah, sure!” Gerard puts his fingers through the belt loops of Brendon’s tiny Madras print shorts and steers her through the crowded bus. He takes her hand, laughing when she vaults down the bus steps and out into the parking lot.
Brendon darts a glance down at their joined hands and frowns for a second. “I’m sorry about, you know, about the photos that got onto the internet. From the airport, I mean.”
Gerard’s lips are a thin, crooked line when he rasps, “Oh fuck that shit! Just ‘cause some teenagers with camera phones get over excited doesn’t mean I’m not gonna hold your hand any more.” He brings Brendon’s fingers to his mouth and kisses her knuckles. “And if some assholes wanna hide in the bushes, I’m sure as fuck not gonna quit kissing you!” Gerard stops short, and Brendon bounces into him. He tilts her chin up, kissing her soundly, then delicately drawing his lips across the faded scratch her cheek. He gives a short nod, and carries on across the lot.
“Oh. Okay. I just…just wanted to make sure…” Brendon’s grin is goofy, but her shoulders lower and she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Still clutching tight to Gerard’s hand, she skips across the sun baked asphalt. “So, I dunno where my bags went. I think Worm took ‘em somewhere.”
“Yeah, probably to the other bus.” Gerard swings their joined hands between them and, squinting, flips his sunglasses down over his eyes.
“Other bus?”
Gerard juts his chin towards a sleek, black bus. “Yeah, Mikes and Frank call it the Married Bus.”
Brendon can sense Gerard’s eyeroll and she giggles when, having steered them in that direction, Gerard opens the bus door and ushers her inside. “That was a short walk!”
“It’s too fuckin’ hot to be wandering around out there.”
Brendon stops and turns around at the top of the stairs, and leaning in for a kiss says, “Maybe if you weren’t dressed like you were going to find The Blair Witch you might be more comfortable.” She runs her fingers down the sleeves of Gerard’s hoodie and unzips it.
“Dunno, seems pretty comfortable here to me,” Gerard’s grin is full and happy as he brings his lips to Brendon’s, kissing her properly; slow and lazy and his tongue teasing against hers. His hands slide up from where they’re bracketing her hips, tracing her ribs beneath her t-shirt and he mumbles, “Nice shirt,” against her lips.
Brendon pushes away from his, glaring, “Dude, do not talk shit about Journey, okay? Steve Perry is the man!” She tugs at the red sleeves of her baseball shirt.
“Hey! I’m agreeing with you!” Gerard reels her back in and ghosts a kiss across the faint, bottle green remainder of the bruise on under her eye. “Jersey, right?”
“Exactly!” Brendon snorts and turns to continue on into the bus’s interior. Only to stop short, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. “Gerard! What?” Her voice trails off and she stares around the room, at the vases full of flowers, everywhere, and then turns to stare at Gerard.
Relieved, Gerard smiles, “Yeah, well, surprises are awesome, right? I know most guys go for roses, but these reminded me more of you.” He wraps one arm around her waist, pulling Brendon close, and reaches out his free hand to stroke a thumb across the petals of a bright pink Gerbera daisy.
“Surprises are definitely awesome!” Brendon dances up on to her toes and flits around the bus’s front lounge, touching the flowers that are in vases on every flat surface. “And you’re awesome!” She grabs Gerard’s face between his hands and kisses him hard, laughing. “You didn’t have to do this!”
“I know, but I wanted to. You deserve romantic stuff, you know. Considering the first time we…” Gerard stops and shrugs awkwardly, biting off his smile and tilting his head to kiss Brendon once again.
Brendon ducks away from him, and extends her arms, making space. She’s not exactly pushing Gerard away, but she's not encouraging him close, either. “What’s there to consider about the first time we fucked?” Her eyes are narrowed and she’s chewing on her bottom lip.
“Brendon, I just meant it wasn’t the best…situation. I thought maybe I could…make it up to you.” Gerard sighs, confused by Brendon’s sudden anger, and jams his hands into his pockets, leaning a hip against one of the lounge couches.
“You’re embarrassed aren’t you?” Brendon tugs at her bangs, glaring at Gerard. “You’re ashamed that the first thing you did when we met was bang the shit out of me,” she folds her arms across her chest.
“Look, I just,” Gerard winces and flings his arms wide, “maybe sometimes I think that it should have gone different. Like, I feel maybe I should have known better.”
“Better?” Brendon’s eyes are a deep, hurt brown beneath the guarded fall of her lashes.
Gerard scratches at his nose, and sighs in frustration. “I’m not explaining this very well. I just…you were really drunk. And I, fuck Queen Bee, I took advantage of you.” He drops her gaze to study the pattern of the carpet.
“No you didn’t!” Brendon cries and reaches for Gerard’s hand.
“Yeah, I did.” Gerard nods grimly. “And sometimes I regret that was our first time together.” His fingers thread with hers and he studies the slow slide of his thumb across her knuckles.
“You would have stopped if I asked you to.” Brendon’s voice is small and quiet.
Eyes sad and studying Brendon’s down-turned face, Gerard replies gently, “Honey, you can’t know that.”
“I can! I do!” Brendon clutches at Gerard’s arm. “You’d never hurt me. You didn’t take advantage Gerard. I wanted it. I wanted you! ” Her voice is watery, but emphatic. “And I can’t regret what happened, or how it happened. I can’t. If it didn’t happen then we wouldn’t be here, now. I won’t regret it.” She swallows and then flings herself at Gerard, wrapping him in a fierce hug, nose tucked into his hair.
Smoothing his hands up and down Brendon’s sides, bunching up the soft cotton of her t-shirt, Gerard says, “Jesus, Brendon, I didn’t mean to start shit. I really didn’t. I just wanted to show you how fucking glad I am that you’re here.” He reaches over and plucks one of the daisies from a vase, tickling it across her chin. “I know you were sort of nervous about this week end, with the guys or whatever, and I just wanted to make you feel…wanted. Big gestures, you know?” Using two fingers under her jaw, Gerard tilts Brendon’s face to his and kisses the tip of her nose.
Face splitting into a genuine grin, Brendon darts forward to kiss Gerard. “I like your big gestures, Gerard Way. And I like you.” She kisses him--quick touches of her mouth on his. “And I like being here with you. I’m sorry I’m a drama princess sometimes.” She wriggles out of his embrace and takes the flower from his hand, twirling it between her fingers. “Who’s got two thumbs and is an emotional moron?” She jerks a raised thumb at her chest and says, “This guy!”
“Aww, honey!” Brendon lets herself be reeled into the circle of Gerard’s arms, his hands resting comfortably low at the small of her back. She sighs into his kiss and hooks her wrists at the back of his neck. Gerard can’t help but still feel a lingering sense of shame at his behavior that first night he met Brendon. But he holds her close, and she seems comfortable and okay with how things started, and more than okay with how things are going, now.
“I’m glad I decided to come,” she whispers against his mouth. She moves her hands to squeeze at the soft flesh above the waistband of Gerard’s jeans. “Hey Sailor, take me to your bunk and I’ll show you how glad I am!” She chuckles, low and dirty, and waggles her eyebrows.
Gerard laughs and runs his hands up under Brendon’s t-shirt. “Nope.”
“You don’t wanna take me to your bunk?” Brendon bites her lip and flutters her eyelashes. “I’m stone cold sober,” she sing-songs and pokes her finger into Gerard’s belly, emphasizing her words.
Emitting a Pillsbury Doughboyesque squeak, Gerard makes a grab for her teasing hand and says, “Nope, no bunk.”
“What?”
Gerard grabs the daisy from Brendon’s fingers and flings it onto the sofa, then takes her hand and leads her through the bus. “See? No back lounge and no bunks!” He slides open a door, and Brendon’s jaw drops open in surprise.
“Oh, holy shit! There’s an actual bed?” She wriggles her fingers free of Gerard’s and reaches into her pocket. Holding up her Sidekick she starts snapping photos and then flicks open to the keyboard. “I totally have to show this to Ryan. This is fantastic!” She finishes sending her email and then flops onto the bed, bouncing and reaching out her arms to Gerard. “Ridin’ in style!” She laughs.
Gerard’s laugh comes out in a snort as he eases down beside her. “Nothin’ but the best!” he slurs against her jaw.
“Mmm hmmm,” Brendon replies--distracted, too busy attempting to peel Gerard’s shirt off, and roaming gently teasing finger tips across his chest to pay much attention to what he’s saying. When he sits up to yank his t-shirt roughly over his head, Brendon takes advantage of the space between them to wiggle out of her own shirt. She makes a happy purring sound in the back of her throat at the feeling of Gerard’s skin, warm against her own.
Tracing the curve of his smile along Brendon’s collarbones, Gerard’s strokes his fingers over the satin of her bra, reaching beneath the underwire in search of soft skin. Brendon’s delighted squeaks and her squirming let Gerard know that the pad of his thumb has found the underside of her breast. With his other hand he reaches around the narrow span of her ribcage and unhooks the tiny slip of fabric. Rising up from the bed slightly, Brendon shimmies out of her bra and flings her arms wide, bringing Gerard down on top of her.
They kiss, slow, and wet and like they have all the time in the world to do whatever they want, however they want. Gerard’s tongue darts clever strokes across Brendon’s wide bottom lip, and her grin grows bigger still as she tries to nip at it. “What d’ya want, Bee?” Gerard’s whisper is loud in the small room. His fingernails scratch across Brendon’s stomach as he kisses her, raising goose bumps in their wake. “We’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me.”
Brendon’s fingers snarl in Gerard’s messy hair and she gasps as he scratches at a particularly sensitive spot, just below her navel. “You could, you know, like, lick me…if you want.” Her voice is a low rasp and her eyes flutter shut.
Gerard grins into her skin, shifting on the mattress to reach up and swipe his tongue tip along the clear line of her carotid artery. “Anything else I can do for you?” He whispers sweetly into her ear.
Barking out a startled laugh, Brendon bats at the roundness of Gerard’s shoulder and says, “No, um, I mean can you lick me…down there?” She swivels her hips and cups Gerard’s skull, the strands of his hair slipping through her fingers.
Gerard’s pretty proud that me manages to muffle most of the laughter that bubbles up in his chest at Brendon’s words. He kisses at the haughty pout of her lips and says, “Down there, huh?” and smirks at her, a gleam in his eyes.
Bringing both knees up so her feet are planted on the bed, Brendon’s pretty pout turns into a disgruntled frown as she says, "Fuck you very much. You know what I mean." She blows a breath out through her bangs, and runs her fingertips lightly across Gerard’s shoulders.
“Yeah, you know, I think I do.” Gerard’s mouth slides down Brendon’s neck as his fingers draw playful circles around the fastener of her shorts.
Bucking up into the touch, Brendon pout-frowns and says,“What do you want me to call it?” She gasps a little when Gerard lowers her zipper, his fingers teasing inside the fabric. “I could go all porny for you and call it my pussy.” She says the last word in an exaggerated, breathy growl.
Gulping audibly, Gerard says, hushed but enthusiastic, “Yeah, you could.” He strokes the pads of his fingers across the firmness of Brendon’s stomach.
Brendon laughter is a full out, bright giggle. “Oh my God. All dudes are so fucking predictable, man. Pussy!” She makes a fussy, unimpressed face. “Pussy, pussy, pussy. Sounds like some kind of old lady calling her cat. How the fuck is that hot?”
“Jesus Christ!” Gerard laughs and lowers his head to rest on the swell of Brendon’s hip.
“Seriously. Oh baby! Eat my pussy!” She grabs Gerard’s shoulder and grinds herself against him, exaggeratedly. “Only a dude could get turned on by that, I swear.”
Gerard doesn’t argue, his eyes crinkle, and his mouth curls with sheepish self-deprecation, hiccuping out a laugh. He manages a distracted, “Err…” before swiping his grin against the bunched fabric of Brendon’s shorts.
On a roll, Brendon unconsciously teases the thickness of Gerard’s hair between her fingers as she talks, “And man, a cunt is someone who cuts you off in traffic. That’s definitely not sexy.”
“Nope, that’s not sexy at all.” Gerard manages to agree placatingly between fits of laughter. His fingers wheedle their way up the leg of Brendon’s shorts to cup the firm curve of an ass cheek, making her pause in her monologue long enough to make an aroused moan and spread her legs wider in encouragement.
Squeezing the back of Gerard’s neck, she puckers her lips and flutters her eyelashes, then sings in a high girly voice nothing at all like her natural vocal range, “Pussy pussy! Cunt cunt! Pussy pussy cunt!” while mischievously swiveling her hips beneath Gerard’s cheek.
Giving up any hope of containing his laughter, Gerard turns his head, snorting into the bedspread. He laughs even harder when Brendon’s hip swivel turns into a full out, ridiculous dance accompanying her nonsense song, all while lying prone, half naked and spread out on the mattress. She snaps her fingers and pops her hips and her breasts bob along to the beat. “Pussy! Pussy! Cunt!” she finishes with gusto, her hair smashed into the pillows beneath her head.
“Brendon! Oh my God!” Gerard drops his hold on Brendon’s hip and ass to clutch helplessly at his stomach, trying to catch his breath. He rolls around in mirth and manages to roll off the bed, onto the floor with a bus shaking bang. “Oof!”
Brendon concludes her impromptu serenade and peers hesitantly down at Gerard, her eyebrows flirting with her hairline in surprise. “Um…sorry?” She bites her lip and extends a hand to help Gerard up. As Gerard gets to his feet, one knee on the bed, Brendon shimmies quickly out of her shorts, and feigning impatience says, “C’mon Daddy, you gonna go down on me or what?”
Gerard’s hand freezes in mid-air, fingers poised at the elastic of Brendon’s pale pink thong. He blinks dumbly and says, “Um, honey? If you want my dick to stay hard enough to give you any kind of happy ending? Please,” he stops and squeezes her hip, giving her a wide-eyed, imploring look. “Please! Never, ever call me Daddy when we’re in bed. Or anywhere else, for that matter.” He shudders as he settles himself back down beside Brendon.
Laughing, Brendon nods, “Right then. There’s such a thing as too porny. Got it!” She snorts, but her laughter is cut short as Gerard teases one nipple between his teeth, tongue dragging lazy circles around the fullness of her breast. “Okay then,” she sucks in a breath. “Gerard Way, will you please perform cunnilingus on me?” She folds her hands together at her breasts, and gazes at Gerard with comical pleading.
“You’re too fucking much, you know that?” Gerard lifts his mouth to hers and mutters against her grin.
“That’s what she said.” They both crack up, snorting with laughter, and leaning into each other. Their laughter slows as Brendon shifts to stroke her hands in greedy swipes across Gerard’s bare back. “Mmm, missed this,” she says, low and serious while nuzzling at the pudgy flesh at his armpit.
“What, my skin?” Gerard trails his lips in lazy formless patterns across Brendon’s neck and shoulders, his fingertips teasing at the top of her panties.
“Mmm hmmm. S’soft--and yummy.” She licks and bites to illustrate her point and Gerard emits a high pitched squeak that makes Brendon snicker. But, soon enough she’s making undignified noises of her own as Gerard’s hand snakes underneath her thong to slip his fingers into the wetness between her legs. “So, yeah…gobble gobble!” she says brightly as Gerard’s breaths burrs low on her belly.
Gerard’s hands still, and his eyes are narrowed slits when he raises his head to meet Brendon’s glance. “Can we file quoting Gigli away under: Things to Never Say in Bed? Okay? Thanks!” Gerard’s serious tone is wrecked by the smile quirking his lips. Tracing along the cut of her hip, Gerard eases the silk scrap of her thong down her legs.
Brendon shudders and raises up from the bed a little, allowing Gerard to slowly drag her panties off. She laughs, breathy and low, and says, “Right. Sure. No problem.” She tilts the shallow pan of her pelvis upwards, and encourages Gerard to sprawl between her legs, petting at his hair. “Mmm…after you make me come I’m gonna blow you.” She licks her lips at the feel of Gerard’s breath, and the scrape of his teeth over her clit. “God, I miss your cock in my mouth,” her voice is rough and she’s squirming beneath Gerard’s touch. “You taste so good.” Eyes closed, Brendon stretches her arms over her head, sucking the fullness of her bottom lip into her mouth.
“Shit honey, the things you say,” groaning, Gerard kisses the slope of Brendon’s pelvic bone, nuzzling and swiping licks across her soft skin. “Got an idea,” he mumbles. He unbuttons his jeans and hastily shoves them down to tangle at his calves. Doing an awkward backwards shuffle up the bed, he flops down, giving Brendon a close up view of his sparsely haired thighs.
“Oh!” Brendon reaches out and pets eager palms over the stretch of skin at Gerard’s hips, and says, “69! Rock the fuck on! I’ve never done this before.” She rolls closer and licks, cat-like at the head of Gerard’s cock. His answering moan shudders through Brendon’s skin, and she pants around the thick length of him. Brendon tugs at Gerard’s thigh, just under the curve of his ass, encouraging him to arch over her. Distracted as he is by the clever heat of Brendon’s mouth, Gerard underestimates the arch of his knee and ends up glancing his shin hard off Brendon’s still-sore cheekbone. “Ow.” She pulls back from her enthusiastic sucking to rub at the spot.
“Shit, sorry, sorry.” Gerard gasps out, stretching to catch Brendon’s eye. “You okay?”
Brendon nods eagerly, and then strokes her curled fingers down around Gerard’s erection. “Yeah, just, maybe we should do this on our sides?” She abandons her plan to have Gerard’s legs on either side of her head and curls over, kissing his hip and sucking his length into her mouth once more, swirling her tongue. Gerard returns his mouth to suck a wicked rhythm to the slickness of her. Brendon can’t stop the slow sway of her hips beneath Gerard’s mouth, and she hitches to meet every lick and touch.
Gerard hisses and says, “Uh fuck,” in a way that indicates pain rather than pleasure. Distracted, Brendon slows her hollow-cheek sucking to peer down her body, trying to see if Gerard’s okay. “Foot--hair.” Brendon can see the quick in and out of his breath, and she doesn’t resist when he raises a hand to reposition her leg.
“Sorry,” she licks a trail from under Gerard’s belly button, through the thicket of his pubic hair, and laps enthusiastically at his cock, slick and wet with precome and spit. Settled, they eventually find a rhythm of gently bucking hips and sure, seeking mouths. The quiet of the room is punctuated with low sounds of pleasure and encouragement, and the whisper of hands on skin.
Brendon’s movements become more erratic and sloppy, and it occurs to Gerard that the sounds she’s making are more of frustration than arousal. “You okay, Queen Bee?” he manages to gather his wits enough to say.
“Unh…” Brendon has removed her mouth from Gerard’s cock, and is rolling her forehead against his hip. Cheeks pink and hair plastered to her face with perspiration, she turns to look at Gerard, worry in her big eyes. “I’m just…I’m not…” She makes a frustrated gesture, balling a fist against the bed covers.
“What the fuck’s wrong now?” Gerard attempts to keep his voice soft and concerned, rather than fed up and on the verge of angry. It’s a close call, given that his rock hard cock is bobbing against the inside of Brendon’s forearm and Gerard is seconds away from coming, with her help or not.
Brendon flings an arm towards Gerard and, voice wobbling, says, “You’re doing that. And I’m trying to do this,” she jabs a finger at Gerard's balls, a little too close for comfort. “And I’m just…it’s… I have ADD!” She struggles to sit up a little, resting her weight back on her elbows.
Gerard’s brows furrow in a puzzled frown. “Huh?”
“Oh my God, you’re so fucking good at, at that! ” Brendon juts her chin to indicate where Gerard is resting his cheek against the inside of her thigh. “And I’m supposed to be sucking you off. But like, it’s too much, you know? Too many…things. All at once,” she waves her hands, “and I’m just afraid I’m gonna like, bite your dick off, or something!” She slumps back, a defeated pout on her face.
Taking a deep breath, Gerard manages not to laugh, only because he’s so turned on he can barely see, and is having problems with constructing any kind of thought beyond must get off NOW. He soothes a hand, warm and comforting across Brendon’s bottom. “Honey, I thought we could try it. If it’s not good, if you can’t…” he waves along their bodies, “then, we don’t have to. Okay?” He presses a kiss under her navel.
“No! No! I mean, I want to. I do. I really, really do. But uh…” Brendon runs her hand through her hair, and the color in her cheeks deepens with embarrassment. “Maybe I could, I mean if you don’t mind…I could, like…” She leans over and strokes her fist in a tight curl from the base of Gerard’s cock, then flits her fingers over the head, smearing precome into warm skin.
Gerard makes a small noise through his nose. “Bren, I dunno if you’ve noticed, but, I’m a guy, right? And no guy would ever, ever turn down a chance to get off. Hand job, blow job, whatever.”
Brendon giggles with relief. She flops back down onto the bed and manages to continue jacking Gerard with strong, sure fingers. Her grip falters-rhythm stuttering when Gerard puts his mouth on her, tongue licking across her clit, but she bites off a moan and flicks her fingertips under his cock to tease at Gerard’s balls. He groans into her skin, biting and sucking. The pressure of her fingers on the hardness of Gerard’s erection increases and he hacks out a string of nonsense, come spattering Brendon’s hand and arm. She wipes some of it off on the blankets, then smears the rest into his skin as she continues to jack him through the twitching jerks of his aftershocks.
His whoosh of breath between her legs makes Brendon whine loudly, but she’s relieved to no longer have to focus on getting Gerard off, and can instead sink into the fire bright sensations building low in her belly. She squeezes and bites at the soft flesh of Gerard’s thighs, rocking her hips in pleasure. When Gerard slips two fingers inside her, his thumb and tongue still teasing at her clit, Brendon bucks her hips up into his face and only just manages to muffle her scream in the soft give of Gerard’s stomach.
The shivers shooting through Brendon turn to full out shakes and she whines, high pitched and uncontrolled, as Gerard continues to mouth at her, his fingers teasing in and out in counterpoint. “Are you cold?” Gerard crawls up beside Brendon, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.
She can’t quite manage to speak, just shakes her head and burrows close. A blissed out smile curves her lips as tremors and aftershocks trip through her system. She runs lazy hands over Gerard’s shoulders and back, and doesn’t object when he settles the blanket over them. “Mmm…sleep now, okay? Then I totally want you to fuck me.”
“Yeah,” Gerard’s voice is a low whisper as he kisses the top of Brendon’s head and then rests his cheek against the softness of her hair.
***
“And he’s like, half guy, half gorilla. People call him Spaceboy which kind of pisses him off.” Gerard is babbling away, patiently explaining what his pencil is scratching across the paper; all shading and thick lines. The index finger of his free hand is hooked under the drooping spaghetti strap of Brendon’s sundress, slipping it up and down the soft skin of her upper arm.
Brendon’s arms are around Gerard’s waist, her chin over his shoulder. She’s snuggled close and listening intently as he explains the concept and characters for the comic book Darkhorse is putting out. “And Spaceboy, I’ve missed you! Spinning round my head. And any way you choose me, you’ll break instead!” Brendon sings enthusiastically.
“Yeah!” Gerard turns his head to brush a kiss across Brendon’s jaw, delighted that she’s gotten the reference.
She hugs him tighter and pets at the slight round of his belly. “Of course--Smashing fucking Pumpkins, man--best ever!”
Whatever Gerard was going to say in reply is lost in a hail of boisterous cursing and yelling from the other side of the lounge. “For fuck’s sake, Mikey! Little help here? You’re always fucking up the damn raid!” Ray is clearly displeased.
“Trouble in Azeroth, Torosaurus?” Brendon calls across the room from her position wound around Gerard.
Ray hits a series of keys and then closes his laptop. “Fuckin’ Mikey, man.”
“Aww, did Way the Younger prevent you from overcoming the oppressor, yet again?” Brendon prances over and pets at Ray’s hair. “Poor much maligned Horde. Those nasty NPCs are out to get you!” Beneath the battered paperback tented over his face Frank is barely containing his giggles, clearly listening to what’s going on and not asleep as the others thought.
Mikey sulks and says, “Well, if some people would stop being so fucking sensitive and actually, you know, fuck shit up instead of telling other people what to do…”
Ray just glares, and Brendon gives his shoulder a consolatory squeeze. “That’s why you gotta show them your moves!” She extends her arms over her head while at the same time swaying her hips in a studied, sinuous movement. She brings her arms slowly down, flitting them behind her in an undulating gesture that keeps time with the sway of her hips and the bend and twist of her thighs, allowing for slow motion booty pops as she turns in a circle.
“Oh, God, I knew it! I fucking knew you’d be a night elf!” Mikey glares at Brendon while Gerard stares at her, jaw-dropped and more turned on than he’d ever admit to anyone.
“I’m not bad; I’m just drawn this way!” Gerard and Frank are no longer making any effort to suppress their laughter. Ray gets pissed off easy in the middle of a game, but cools off soon after. And really, even he has to admit that the whole Brendon versus Mikey World of Warcraft showdown 2007 is fuckin’ hilarious. “And dude! I can’t help it if people wanna give me presents. It would be rude to say no!”
“Fuckin’ stuck up pretty boy manna hoarders.” Mikey grouses, crossing his arms and glaring at his computer screen.
“So hey, I have this blood elf alter if you’re interested…” Gerard leaves his sketch pad, crossing the small space to join the discussion. Coming up behind Brendon, he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her close, kissing her neck.
He whispers all the blood elf’s stats into Brendon’s ear and she laughs, dancing her fingertips across his forearms where they hold her close. “Oh baby, talk dirty to me,” she giggles, purposely moving her ass against Gerard’s crotch in a suggestive manner. “But nah, I like RP, and it’s just for fun. I’m not, you know, hard core or anything.” She arches an eyebrow towards Mikey and Ray, still sprawled on the floor between the lounge couches.
Frank manages to interrupt his giggles enough to say, “And Bren baby, when ol’ Gee the Ogre’s dick starts to rot off you can come see me! I’ll treat you right.”
“Wow. Jamia won a prize when she got you," Brendon leans back against Gerard, smirking at Frank, who’s still sprawled on the couch.
Frank bats his eyelashes and coos, “Love is blind.”
“Or in your case, deaf. And possibly retarded.” Ray stands and stretches and, playfully shoving at Mikey’s shoulder heads out of the lounge. “Gonna go work on some songs. Can’t fuck that up," he mutters as he passes.
Brendon snickers and tilts her head to kiss Gerard. “S’nice outside, think I’m gonna grab a smoke. Wanna come with?”
Gerard wrinkles up his nose and says regretfully, “Nah, I gotta finish these edits to send off to Darkhorse.”
“Kay,” Brendon shrugs out of his embrace, and along with Ray, heads to the front of the bus.
***
Brendon slips her sunglasses over her eyes as she skips off the bus and into the sticky afternoon heat of the parking lot. She lights a cigarette, leaning back against the door, and a bright scrap of fabric catches her eye. Brian, clad in a sky blue t-shirt and jean shorts, is sitting on the grassy hillock that slopes down to the expressway. His back is to her and she smiles a little to herself. Maybe this is the opening she’s been looking for. She makes her way over to him, flopping down at his side and pulling the loose jersey cotton of her dress down snug over her calves. Exhaling a puff of smoke Brendon says, in the best conversational tone she can muster, “Counting cars?”
Brian glances at her from the corner of his eye, lips pursed around his own cigarette. “Yeah--red ones.” He scratches a tattooed forearm but doesn’t turn his attention from the highway.
“How many so far?” Brendon matches his tone, resting her chin on her knees.
“Twelve.” He smirks. “Brendon, I realize I maybe…shot my mouth off,in L.A.--overstepped some bounds. But, they’re my responsibility. The last time Gerard…things almost ended, for everyone. It was too close, it can’t happen again, do you understand? I won’t let it happen again. This band is everything. I’m responsible to make sure that what happened…doesn’t happen again. I’m responsible for Gerard. ”
“Fourteen.” Brendon gestures at the busy highway with her cigarette. Still staring straight ahead, she says softly, “I understand that you reserve the right to bounce me out on my perky ass. I also understand that your pay check is directly linked to them staying out of trouble, and staying a band.”
Brendon’s smile is sad when she hears Brian’s breath catch, and he starts to say, “That’s not…”
“Now you know how it feels to have people judge you when they don’t know anything about you.” She keeps her tone casual and her eyes on the road. “And I know I wasn’t there to see Gerard bottom out. But that doesn’t mean I don’t…know things,” she takes a deep drag and watches the grey-white plume of her exhalation vanish in the blue sky. “I’m just gonna talk, so please, just listen.”
Making no reply, Brian gives a short, affirmative nod and waits for Brendon to continue.
“I’m twenty. I’m not an idiot. Ryan Ross is my best friend. His father is…was…a violent alcoholic. When he was drinking he would throw things and say terrible shit to anyone who was around. I wished I could stop him. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how. And he didn’t want to,” Brendon uses her free hand to brush at her flip flops and pick at the flecks of freshly mown grass stuck to her toes.
“And then, when we got signed, we toured with this band, and I met this amazing guy. He was funny, and talented, and had this sweet, lazy smile. And I wanted more than anything to be it for him, you know? And so he drank a little, right?” She sighs and turns her attention to plucking at a stray brown thread on the hem of her dress. Brian is silent and still beside her, and even if she doesn’t turn her head to look at him, she can tell she has his attention. “But I didn’t know that the wine was washing down pills. And I didn’t know that the wine was to cover up the bottles of vodka and Jack. And I didn’t know he was so angry. And I didn’t know how to make him stop.”
Brendon holds her pack of Camel Lights out to Brian, noticing as he grinds the butt of his own spent cigarette with the toe of his boot. He takes one and nods his thanks, lighting up. “But Gerard,” she says softly, her lips involuntarily tilting up in a smile, “God, I know I didn’t see the shit that went down, or the hell that everyone went through. But…but he did it, you know? He decided it was worth it. There’s a part of him that’s good, and gentle, and strong, and knew what he needed to do to get well. To stay well.” She looks at Brian over top of her sunglasses, “He took responsibility for himself. And every day he doesn’t drink, every day he doesn’t get high, every day he gets out of fucking bed,” Brendon jabs at the air with her cigarette to make her point, ash floating on the otherwise un-noticeable breeze, “is a gift. It’s a small, perfect miracle. And I know how blessed and lucky I am that he lets me be a part of that. I get it. I totally do. And I will not do anything to fuck that up.”
Brendon licks her lips, stubbing her cigarette out in the grass and jutting her chin towards the endless stream of passing cars. “Twenty,” is all she says as she stands. She pats Brian on the shoulder and then turns to walk back across the parking lot to the bus.
Later, Brian finds Gerard sitting on a picnic table, watching as Brendon and Frank--standing on top of the tour bus--attempt to fly one of the big paper kites Ray’d bought in Japan. Brian knocks his shoulder against Gerard’s and steals his cigarette. “So, I think I just got the most polite ass kicking, ever. Your girlfriend…”
“Brendon,” Gerard interrupts.
“Brendon,” Brian parrots back at him, “She’s a good kid.”
“Oh yeah?” Gerard smirks behind his sunglasses and steals back his smoke.
“Yeah.”
“Well damn, I’m glad you approve.” It’s said teasingly, tone sarcastic, but Gerard means it. He is glad; he never realized how important it is to him for all the people he cares about to get along. And if Brian and Brendon had mended whatever it was between them, that was a huge step in the right direction. “So, when Brendon told me what you did? What you said to her? I wanted to fuck your shit up so bad, dude.”
Brian snorts, exhaling a thick plume of smoke, and says “Whatever, man.”
“Fuck you, I totally coulda. I have rage, man.” Gerard lightly bumps his fisted knuckles against Brian’s knee. “Bren, though--she wouldn’t let me. She said that it was between the two of you. But, for the record? Manage the band, man. Not my personal life. That shit’s just insulting.”
“If you can get your head out of your ass long enough to keep your dick off the internet? It would be my honor and privilege to let you two crazy kids mind your own damn business.” Brian’s words are sharp, but lacking in venom. He watches as Gerard winces, then nods-a short, curt movement. Brian opens his mouth to say something else but there’s a triumphant cheer from atop the bus and he and Gerard both watch the kite take flight, bobbing and dancing in the afternoon sun.
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