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Don't Look Back And Don't Look Down
Fandom: Bandom (My Chemical Romance, Mindless Self-Indulgence)
Rating: R (language, mildly explicit sexuality)
Pairings: Gerard/Lyn-z
Disclaimer: Made-up like a made-up, fictional, never-happened thing.
Warnings: Married hetsex omg, bondage, mild d/s.
Notes: Nothing you say will ever convince me that Lyn doesn't top more often in this marriage. Title comes from the same song as the lyrics at the beginning, which is the most sweet and romantic song about bondage I know of.
Pin my wrists and hold me down
Everything can wait for now
Take me whole and hard and take me home
--Naked Raven, "Skin"
The first time Gerard asked her to do it, he'd been awkward and a little hesitant--not ashamed of what he wanted, exactly, but not sure how she'd react to the idea.
Since then, they've gotten to the point where he doesn't really have to ask. Lyn's been good at reading him from the start, and she's learned the little clues in body language or voice or expression that mean he needs it.
This time, the circumstances are a clue as well--My Chem's getting close to the end of what's supposed to be their very last stint of touring before they take a break and then get to work on the next album. Supposed to be, and Lyn is prepared to talk to whatever assorted family members, significant others, or managers she has to to make damn sure that it is the last, because seriously. But for now, she's got a break and he doesn't, but he has a couple of hotel nights coming up, so she's meeting the tour in its next city for a few blissful days of non-long-distance marriage (well, as blissful as it can be when one of them's touring).
So she knows Gerard's tired and stressed, and he's mentioned that he's already feeling a bit of pre-new-album anxiety, which isn't surprising, given what the whole band went through on the last one (another item on Lyn's list of Things My Husband And His Band Will All Agree To If They Want Unbroken Kneecaps is NO more recording in haunted houses). All of that plus the tone of Gerard's voice when they talk the night before she heads out is more than enough to let her know.
"You took care of getting us our own room, right?" she asks. "You know I love the guys, but..."
"Yeah, I made sure," Gerard says. "I can't wait to see you."
"Same here," she replies, smiling into the phone. Then, "Honey? Should I pack the cuffs?"
There's barely a pause before he says, quietly. "Yeah. That'd be--yeah."
"Okay. I'll see you soon."
"I love you," he says, before they hang up. He still says it like it's this new, wonderful thing, every time. Lyn teases him about it sometimes, but really, she never gets tired of hearing it.
MCR on tour is pretty much the way Lyn remembers it. She checks into the hotel, leaves her stuff in her and Gerard's room, and makes it to the venue right when they're finishing up with sound check. She spends the time between then and the show with Gerard pretty much plastered to her side and the rest of the band making fun of them, even though she totally sees the way Frank "I'm a filthy hypocrite" Iero's whole face lights up when Jamia calls him.
She watches the show from the side. Gerard doesn't announce to the crowd that she's there, but they do "My Way Home Is Through You", and he dedicates it to her.
A short bus ride back to the hotel, some more making out obnoxiously in front of everyone else, a few slices of pizza, a probably ill-advised amount of caffeine, and a quick round of Halo 2 later, Lyn's more than ready for some actual alone time with her husband. When she catches Gerard's eye, he gives a faint nod and they both stand up.
Frank and Bob both immediately start humming something that's probably meant to sound like porno music, but Lyn's not sure, because of the part where neither of them can carry a damn tune.
"Sure you guys don't want to stick around?" Ray asks, his expression completely guileless. "I heard there might be a zombie movie marathon on TV somewhere..."
Gerard looks
very briefly tempted, but shakes his head as he and Lyn walk toward the door of the room they've been hanging out in. "Nah--you guys have fun, but..."
Pausing in the doorway, he turns around and finishes, grinning, "I'm gonna go have
sex with my
wife," then grabs Lyn around the waist and waltzes her down the hall, Mikey's protest about how he's "traumatized enough already,
jeez" fading behind them.
Lyn's laughing when Gerard spins them into their room, falling back against the door as it closes.
"Hi," he says, hands still on her waist, beaming.
"Hi," she says back, and tilts her head up, pulling him down into a kiss.
They stay right there by the door for a while, necking like teenagers, and it's sweet and urgent and almost makes her abandon the plan in favor of suggesting that they make tender romantic love in the missionary position, or something else disgustingly vanilla. But they've got a couple of days, so there'll be time for that. She knows what he needs tonight.
So she pulls back enough to talk, leaning her forehead against his. "Hey. I brought 'em."
This close, she can see his pupils dilate just a little. He bites his lower lip for a moment, then says, "Okay. Good. You wanna get started, then?"
She kisses him once more, then tilts her head to whisper in his ear. "I'll go change."
Nights like this are one of the only times Lyn wears something similar to her onstage style offstage. The outfit she brought for tonight isn't quite Naughty Schoolgirl--closer to College Coed Who's Still A Bit Naughty, But In A Classier Way Than The Ones
On Girls Gone Wild. The blouse is low-cut and crimson, the skirt is very short and very black, and the underwear is nonexistent. There's a garter belt, along with a pair of pumps the same deep red as the blouse, still in her suitcase, but she feels like cutting to the chase tonight, and anyway, she's been on her feet a lot today. So, blouse, skirt, and just enough makeup--lipstick and eyeliner, nothing elaborate--and before she zips her bag back up, she slips a hand under the pile of clothes inside and brings out the handcuffs stashed at the bottom.
They're well-polished and padded with leather on the inside, and were the kind of expensive you can only justify when one person in your marriage has two platinum records to his name, ordered from a website that offers quality products rather than bought from a sketchy sex shop. They're not the only prop she and Gerard have--if he didn't have to perform tomorrow, Lyn might have brought the riding crop along--but they're the most important one.
Gerard's sitting on the bed when she comes out of the bathroom, smoking a cigarette. He sits up a little straighter when he sees her, and crushes the cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table.
"Jesus," he says. "Hon, you look--"
"Shut up," she says, quiet but commanding, and he does. "Stand up."
He does that, too, and she walks toward him slowly, letting the cuffs dangle from one hand.
"Strip," Lyn tells him in that same low voice. "Slowly. And then get on your knees."
Gerard puts just a bit of show into it, tugging his shirt up inch by inch until he can pull it over his head and let it fall to the ground, then dropping one hand to the fly of his jeans almost lazily. He had the presence of mind to take of his shoes and socks while Lyn was in the bathroom, and it's no big surprise that he's not wearing underwear, either, so he steps out of the jeans completely naked and then kneels in front her, tilting his chin up a bit. On the one hand, the gesture has a hint of defiance to it. On the other, it exposes his throat, and Lyn curls a hand loosely around his neck as she circles around behind him.
"Hands behind your back," she says, and, when he obeys wordlessly, bends down to snap the cuffs in place around his wrists. "Now turn around."
Gerard shuffles around, staying on his knees, and Lyn sits on the bed, placing the key to the cuffs on the bedside table and then scooting forward to the very edge of the mattress and opening her legs. The skirt rides up on her thighs, and she sees Gerard's eyes widen as he realizes she's got nothing on under it.
Her hand is still on his neck, light enough that it hasn't hampered his movement, and she slides it up to cup his jaw, her other hand coming up to twine in his hair, loosely for now. Gerard's eyes flick up to meet hers, and then back down as she tugs him forward.
"You know how I like it."
She actually likes it best when he can use his hands, but this has its own appeal--Gerard pressing forward with just his mouth and tongue, pulling back briefly to nuzzle at her thigh and then moving in again. Lyn's grip on his hair tightens as her breath gets rapid and shallow, and when he gets hold of her clit and sucks, running his tongue over it roughly at the same time, she fists her hand hard enough to pull out a few strands, trying and failing to hold back a little moan when she comes.
Gerard pulls back and rests his cheek against her thigh while she's still trembling, and Lyn loosens her hold on him, smoothing her palm flat against his hair.
"That was good," she says after a few moments, and his lips brush her skin when he whispers, "thank you".
Lyn lets him stay that way a little while longer, cradling his head in both hands. Then she pushes at his shoulder, and he straightens up.
"Stand up and turn around," she says, and when Gerard does and she unlocks the handcuffs, he keeps his hands where they are, clasped at the small of his back. "Now lie down on the bed, and put your hands over your head."
The headboard is solid, no good for cuffing him to, but when she slips the handcuffs back on and tells him to keep his hands on the pillow, she knows he'll obey.
Lyn swings herself around on the bed and straddles him, but stays up on her knees, a few inches above him. Gerard twitches a little, but stops himself from pushing upward; she still puts one hand on his hip and presses down, bracing herself with her other hand planted next to his head.
Gerard lets out a whimper--after going down on her and not being able to touch himself, he's already so hard it's got to be painful. "Lyn,
please--"
"Please, what?" she asks, leaning over him. "Ask me nicely, and we'll see what we can do."
"Please let me fuck you?" he asks, which is the wrong request, and she's fairly sure he knows it.
Lyn's hand goes to his hair again, tugging hard enough to pull his head to the side. "Wrong. Which one of us does the fucking, Gerard?"
Gerard's eyes are closed and his mouth is open, and he's panting a little as he answers, "You do."
"So what is it you want?" Gerard just moans, and she rubs her thumb against the ridge of his hipbone, gentle in contrast to her tight grip on his hair. "Tell me what you need, baby."
"I need you to fuck me," he gasps out. "Please.
Please."
"That's right," Lyn whispers, and straightens up, the hand on his hip moving to circle the base of his cock, holding it steady as she sinks down.
Gerard bucks upward instinctively, and she bears down, squeezing his sides with her knees and snapping, "Hold still. Unless you want me to stop."
Gerard moans again and stills, and she can feel the tension running through his body as he holds himself that way.
This is what nights like this are all about, at the heart of it. They've used strap-ons or vibrators, on occasion, but keeping it like this gets him off as hard as any sex toy ever has. Taking straight-up hetero sex and turning the traditional power dynamic on its head does something to Gerard. And watching what it does to him...well, that does something to Lyn.
She waits until he has himself at least partially under control, and then starts moving. He manages to keep from thrusting, but can't stop his back from arching or his hips from lifting off the bed just slightly, and Lyn allows it, keeping one hand fisted in his hair and riding him hard. Gerard doesn't last long, but it's long enough for her to come again, just before he does, hard and long and with a ragged, wordless cry.
Lyn waits until he goes still, then climbs off carefully, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed next to him. She finds the key on the table and unlocks the cuffs again, setting them aside this time. It's unspoken permission to move, and Gerard curls onto his side, laying his head down in her lap.
Lyn slides a hand into his hair one more time, twirls a lock around one finger, and tugs just hard enough for it to be an echo of earlier. "What do you say?" she prompts, gently.
"Thank you," Gerard says, quiet and sincere.
"Good boy," she says, and strokes his hair.
Eventually, Lyn bends down and kisses his temple, and whispers "I'll be right back," before easing away.
In the bathroom, she stows the handcuffs away again before scrubbing off the makeup, brushing her teeth, and changing into sweatpants and Gerard's Madonna shirt, which she stole last month and actually packed with the intention of giving it back to him. When she comes back out, Gerard's tugging back the comforter on the bed, having changed into his own pajamas.
He curls up again once they're under the covers, and Lyn tucks herself into the curve of his body and takes hold of his wrist to tug his arm around her.
"We could probably still catch a zombie movie or two, if you want," Gerard mumbles, even though his face is half-smushed into a pillow and his eyes are already closing.
"How awake do you have to be tomorrow?" she asks.
He thinks for a second, then makes a face, scrunching up his nose. "We've got an interview. In the
morning."
"Sleep," she says, firmly. "Zombies tomorrow, maybe. We've got time."
"'Kay," Gerard agrees, sounding half-asleep already. "Love you, Lyn."
Lyn smiles, tilting her head on the pillow so that their foreheads touch. "Love you, too."
Fandom: Bandom (My Chemical Romance, Mindless Self-Indulgence)
Rating: R (language, mildly explicit sexuality)
Pairings: Gerard/Lyn-z
Disclaimer: Made-up like a made-up, fictional, never-happened thing.
Warnings: Married hetsex omg, bondage, mild d/s.
Notes: Nothing you say will ever convince me that Lyn doesn't top more often in this marriage. Title comes from the same song as the lyrics at the beginning, which is the most sweet and romantic song about bondage I know of.
Pin my wrists and hold me down
Everything can wait for now
Take me whole and hard and take me home
--Naked Raven, "Skin"
The first time Gerard asked her to do it, he'd been awkward and a little hesitant--not ashamed of what he wanted, exactly, but not sure how she'd react to the idea.
Since then, they've gotten to the point where he doesn't really have to ask. Lyn's been good at reading him from the start, and she's learned the little clues in body language or voice or expression that mean he needs it.
This time, the circumstances are a clue as well--My Chem's getting close to the end of what's supposed to be their very last stint of touring before they take a break and then get to work on the next album. Supposed to be, and Lyn is prepared to talk to whatever assorted family members, significant others, or managers she has to to make damn sure that it is the last, because seriously. But for now, she's got a break and he doesn't, but he has a couple of hotel nights coming up, so she's meeting the tour in its next city for a few blissful days of non-long-distance marriage (well, as blissful as it can be when one of them's touring).
So she knows Gerard's tired and stressed, and he's mentioned that he's already feeling a bit of pre-new-album anxiety, which isn't surprising, given what the whole band went through on the last one (another item on Lyn's list of Things My Husband And His Band Will All Agree To If They Want Unbroken Kneecaps is NO more recording in haunted houses). All of that plus the tone of Gerard's voice when they talk the night before she heads out is more than enough to let her know.
"You took care of getting us our own room, right?" she asks. "You know I love the guys, but..."
"Yeah, I made sure," Gerard says. "I can't wait to see you."
"Same here," she replies, smiling into the phone. Then, "Honey? Should I pack the cuffs?"
There's barely a pause before he says, quietly. "Yeah. That'd be--yeah."
"Okay. I'll see you soon."
"I love you," he says, before they hang up. He still says it like it's this new, wonderful thing, every time. Lyn teases him about it sometimes, but really, she never gets tired of hearing it.
MCR on tour is pretty much the way Lyn remembers it. She checks into the hotel, leaves her stuff in her and Gerard's room, and makes it to the venue right when they're finishing up with sound check. She spends the time between then and the show with Gerard pretty much plastered to her side and the rest of the band making fun of them, even though she totally sees the way Frank "I'm a filthy hypocrite" Iero's whole face lights up when Jamia calls him.
She watches the show from the side. Gerard doesn't announce to the crowd that she's there, but they do "My Way Home Is Through You", and he dedicates it to her.
A short bus ride back to the hotel, some more making out obnoxiously in front of everyone else, a few slices of pizza, a probably ill-advised amount of caffeine, and a quick round of Halo 2 later, Lyn's more than ready for some actual alone time with her husband. When she catches Gerard's eye, he gives a faint nod and they both stand up.
Frank and Bob both immediately start humming something that's probably meant to sound like porno music, but Lyn's not sure, because of the part where neither of them can carry a damn tune.
"Sure you guys don't want to stick around?" Ray asks, his expression completely guileless. "I heard there might be a zombie movie marathon on TV somewhere..."
Gerard looks
very briefly tempted, but shakes his head as he and Lyn walk toward the door of the room they've been hanging out in. "Nah--you guys have fun, but..."
Pausing in the doorway, he turns around and finishes, grinning, "I'm gonna go have
sex with my
wife," then grabs Lyn around the waist and waltzes her down the hall, Mikey's protest about how he's "traumatized enough already,
jeez" fading behind them.
Lyn's laughing when Gerard spins them into their room, falling back against the door as it closes.
"Hi," he says, hands still on her waist, beaming.
"Hi," she says back, and tilts her head up, pulling him down into a kiss.
They stay right there by the door for a while, necking like teenagers, and it's sweet and urgent and almost makes her abandon the plan in favor of suggesting that they make tender romantic love in the missionary position, or something else disgustingly vanilla. But they've got a couple of days, so there'll be time for that. She knows what he needs tonight.
So she pulls back enough to talk, leaning her forehead against his. "Hey. I brought 'em."
This close, she can see his pupils dilate just a little. He bites his lower lip for a moment, then says, "Okay. Good. You wanna get started, then?"
She kisses him once more, then tilts her head to whisper in his ear. "I'll go change."
Nights like this are one of the only times Lyn wears something similar to her onstage style offstage. The outfit she brought for tonight isn't quite Naughty Schoolgirl--closer to College Coed Who's Still A Bit Naughty, But In A Classier Way Than The Ones
On Girls Gone Wild. The blouse is low-cut and crimson, the skirt is very short and very black, and the underwear is nonexistent. There's a garter belt, along with a pair of pumps the same deep red as the blouse, still in her suitcase, but she feels like cutting to the chase tonight, and anyway, she's been on her feet a lot today. So, blouse, skirt, and just enough makeup--lipstick and eyeliner, nothing elaborate--and before she zips her bag back up, she slips a hand under the pile of clothes inside and brings out the handcuffs stashed at the bottom.
They're well-polished and padded with leather on the inside, and were the kind of expensive you can only justify when one person in your marriage has two platinum records to his name, ordered from a website that offers quality products rather than bought from a sketchy sex shop. They're not the only prop she and Gerard have--if he didn't have to perform tomorrow, Lyn might have brought the riding crop along--but they're the most important one.
Gerard's sitting on the bed when she comes out of the bathroom, smoking a cigarette. He sits up a little straighter when he sees her, and crushes the cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table.
"Jesus," he says. "Hon, you look--"
"Shut up," she says, quiet but commanding, and he does. "Stand up."
He does that, too, and she walks toward him slowly, letting the cuffs dangle from one hand.
"Strip," Lyn tells him in that same low voice. "Slowly. And then get on your knees."
Gerard puts just a bit of show into it, tugging his shirt up inch by inch until he can pull it over his head and let it fall to the ground, then dropping one hand to the fly of his jeans almost lazily. He had the presence of mind to take of his shoes and socks while Lyn was in the bathroom, and it's no big surprise that he's not wearing underwear, either, so he steps out of the jeans completely naked and then kneels in front her, tilting his chin up a bit. On the one hand, the gesture has a hint of defiance to it. On the other, it exposes his throat, and Lyn curls a hand loosely around his neck as she circles around behind him.
"Hands behind your back," she says, and, when he obeys wordlessly, bends down to snap the cuffs in place around his wrists. "Now turn around."
Gerard shuffles around, staying on his knees, and Lyn sits on the bed, placing the key to the cuffs on the bedside table and then scooting forward to the very edge of the mattress and opening her legs. The skirt rides up on her thighs, and she sees Gerard's eyes widen as he realizes she's got nothing on under it.
Her hand is still on his neck, light enough that it hasn't hampered his movement, and she slides it up to cup his jaw, her other hand coming up to twine in his hair, loosely for now. Gerard's eyes flick up to meet hers, and then back down as she tugs him forward.
"You know how I like it."
She actually likes it best when he can use his hands, but this has its own appeal--Gerard pressing forward with just his mouth and tongue, pulling back briefly to nuzzle at her thigh and then moving in again. Lyn's grip on his hair tightens as her breath gets rapid and shallow, and when he gets hold of her clit and sucks, running his tongue over it roughly at the same time, she fists her hand hard enough to pull out a few strands, trying and failing to hold back a little moan when she comes.
Gerard pulls back and rests his cheek against her thigh while she's still trembling, and Lyn loosens her hold on him, smoothing her palm flat against his hair.
"That was good," she says after a few moments, and his lips brush her skin when he whispers, "thank you".
Lyn lets him stay that way a little while longer, cradling his head in both hands. Then she pushes at his shoulder, and he straightens up.
"Stand up and turn around," she says, and when Gerard does and she unlocks the handcuffs, he keeps his hands where they are, clasped at the small of his back. "Now lie down on the bed, and put your hands over your head."
The headboard is solid, no good for cuffing him to, but when she slips the handcuffs back on and tells him to keep his hands on the pillow, she knows he'll obey.
Lyn swings herself around on the bed and straddles him, but stays up on her knees, a few inches above him. Gerard twitches a little, but stops himself from pushing upward; she still puts one hand on his hip and presses down, bracing herself with her other hand planted next to his head.
Gerard lets out a whimper--after going down on her and not being able to touch himself, he's already so hard it's got to be painful. "Lyn,
please--"
"Please, what?" she asks, leaning over him. "Ask me nicely, and we'll see what we can do."
"Please let me fuck you?" he asks, which is the wrong request, and she's fairly sure he knows it.
Lyn's hand goes to his hair again, tugging hard enough to pull his head to the side. "Wrong. Which one of us does the fucking, Gerard?"
Gerard's eyes are closed and his mouth is open, and he's panting a little as he answers, "You do."
"So what is it you want?" Gerard just moans, and she rubs her thumb against the ridge of his hipbone, gentle in contrast to her tight grip on his hair. "Tell me what you need, baby."
"I need you to fuck me," he gasps out. "Please.
Please."
"That's right," Lyn whispers, and straightens up, the hand on his hip moving to circle the base of his cock, holding it steady as she sinks down.
Gerard bucks upward instinctively, and she bears down, squeezing his sides with her knees and snapping, "Hold still. Unless you want me to stop."
Gerard moans again and stills, and she can feel the tension running through his body as he holds himself that way.
This is what nights like this are all about, at the heart of it. They've used strap-ons or vibrators, on occasion, but keeping it like this gets him off as hard as any sex toy ever has. Taking straight-up hetero sex and turning the traditional power dynamic on its head does something to Gerard. And watching what it does to him...well, that does something to Lyn.
She waits until he has himself at least partially under control, and then starts moving. He manages to keep from thrusting, but can't stop his back from arching or his hips from lifting off the bed just slightly, and Lyn allows it, keeping one hand fisted in his hair and riding him hard. Gerard doesn't last long, but it's long enough for her to come again, just before he does, hard and long and with a ragged, wordless cry.
Lyn waits until he goes still, then climbs off carefully, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed next to him. She finds the key on the table and unlocks the cuffs again, setting them aside this time. It's unspoken permission to move, and Gerard curls onto his side, laying his head down in her lap.
Lyn slides a hand into his hair one more time, twirls a lock around one finger, and tugs just hard enough for it to be an echo of earlier. "What do you say?" she prompts, gently.
"Thank you," Gerard says, quiet and sincere.
"Good boy," she says, and strokes his hair.
Eventually, Lyn bends down and kisses his temple, and whispers "I'll be right back," before easing away.
In the bathroom, she stows the handcuffs away again before scrubbing off the makeup, brushing her teeth, and changing into sweatpants and Gerard's Madonna shirt, which she stole last month and actually packed with the intention of giving it back to him. When she comes back out, Gerard's tugging back the comforter on the bed, having changed into his own pajamas.
He curls up again once they're under the covers, and Lyn tucks herself into the curve of his body and takes hold of his wrist to tug his arm around her.
"We could probably still catch a zombie movie or two, if you want," Gerard mumbles, even though his face is half-smushed into a pillow and his eyes are already closing.
"How awake do you have to be tomorrow?" she asks.
He thinks for a second, then makes a face, scrunching up his nose. "We've got an interview. In the
morning."
"Sleep," she says, firmly. "Zombies tomorrow, maybe. We've got time."
"'Kay," Gerard agrees, sounding half-asleep already. "Love you, Lyn."
Lyn smiles, tilting her head on the pillow so that their foreheads touch. "Love you, too."