Gee's in front of the mirror, face so close to the surface he's almost touching noses with his reflection. He's wafting a cosmetic brush across his eyelids when Frank walks into the room. Gerard doesn't break eye contact with the Gee in the mirror, continuing to touch up his face, but he can feel Frank's gaze heavy on him trailing up from his shiny shoes to his tight pants to his fitted jacket to his perfectly coiffed hair.
"You look good." Frank completes his assessment of Gerard, voice throaty. He slinks over to stand behind him, looking at the Gee in the mirror over his shoulder.
"Thanks." Gerard responds softly, focusing his eyes on Frank's reflection. Frank's looking sharp himself, dolled up with makeup, hair set like stone. It's all one colour at the moment and Gerard misses the two tone a little. In his suit and tie, with his monochrome hair and almost all his tatts covered Frank looks nearly conservative, only his weird haircut, stretched ears, piercings and the scorpion on his neck giving him away as the freak he is.
Gerard's breath quickens as he meets Frank's eyes in the mirror. Frank looks hungry. Gerard knows that look too well. It usually heralds wickedness of the worst sort. Gerard's fingers grip the counter in front of him, knowing the wash of desire he's experiencing is showing all over his face. Frank's lips curve up in a smirk. He knows exactly what he's doing to Gee, and he hasn't even done anything yet.
Frank presses forward, bringing their bodies into contact, his chest and groin meeting Gerard's back and ass. Gerard feels the heat between them increase immediately and he knows he's already half hard, it takes so little now for Frank to get him riled up. Distractedly he glances at the clock. There is no time.
"They're due to pick us up now." Gerard's voice is shaky. He's balancing on a precipice. He doesn't want to let down the band and the fans by being late or a no show, but where Frank's concerned he has so little control, a mere nod from the younger man and he'd lock the door, turn off the phones, rip off the carefully chosen outfit and get fucked by Frank til his makeup was streaked with sweat and come. Frank knows this of course, it glows in his eyes as his fret hand slides up Gerard's thigh, covering the rapidly growing bulge at his crotch with a warm hand.
"I know." Frank's other hand drifts deliberately up to Gerard's neck, lightly resting on his collarbone, thumb stroking over his pulse point. "It's okay." he says gently, both hands gently moving on Gerard. "I'm not gonna fuck up your pretty makeup, or your pretty outfit." Frank's breath is warm on Gerard's ear as he speaks, "I'm just gonna give you your instructions."
Gerard's gripping the countertop so tight it's a wonder it doesn't shatter between his fingers. Frank's fingers around his neck make him think of his collar, packed safely away in Frank's suitcase. Frank reads his mind commenting "I'd love to collar you tonight. How do you think that would go down? How would you explain it to all those reporters?" Gerard's mind is already awhirl with hastily composed 'safe' answers to nosy questions. He could bullshit it out if he needed to. He'd worn some weird shit onstage and gotten away with it. If Frank wanted him to wear the collar he'd wear it.
"I'll wear it if you want me to." He offers, eyes defiant, voice shaking a little. Frank's slow movements are distracting him, making it hard for him to speak.
Frank sucks his lip-ring into his mouth, considering for a moment. "What would you tell them when they ask what it means?" His hand on Gerard's throat tightens almost imperceptibly. Not pain, just firm, like his collar.
"That I'm yours." As Gerard says it, he knows that he means it. He would absolutely say it, on live TV if he had to, probably to some annoying perky reporter from Total Request Live or some shit. But he'd do it, fuck the consequences.
Frank's eyes are practically glowing desire at him, panting with pride. Gee's pretty sure it's chewing up every ounce of Frank's willpower to keep from taking this further, fucking up both their outfits and makeup. Frank's eyes slide closed and he takes a few deep breaths. When he blinks them back open again he's back on track, centred.
"It's a nice thought, slut, but it's not what I had in mind." Gerard trembles a little at Frank's curse, trying to control his breathing so he doesn't overheat and sweat off all his makeup. "Tonight, you're going to be a good little whore, and keep count for me." Gerard has no idea what he means, but he's having trouble concentrating past the hot press of Frank's body behind him and the carefully continuous slow caress over his bulging crotch. At this rate the ride to the venue is looking very fucking painful.
"Anytime anyone tells you how fucking sexy you look tonight, or how sharp, or neat, or fuckable, you keep count. If they tell you more than once, you count more than once, got it?"
Gerard nods, not entirely sure what the purpose of this exercise is, but absolutely certain it's more than math. He knows better than to ask questions though, just concentrates on staying upright and trying not to moan.
"Tonight, when we get back to this room, you'll tell me the total. And I will spank your bare ass five times for every. Single. Compliment." Frank's whispering the words right into Gerard's ear, eyes lidded as the stream of sin pours from him. "Because you need to learn that you can't just keep putting your pretty self out there, whoring yourself to all those eyes without a thought for the one who owns you. You need to remember who you belong to, Gee." Frank's eyes meet his in the mirror and Gerard is beyond thinking now. Beyond speaking. He is so fucking turned on he's fighting not to come in his pants. Frank seems to sense it, stilling his hands, meeting Gee's eyes in the mirror. Triumph and mischief is written all over him. His hands cover Gerard's on the countertop, tugging them til he releases his grip. Clenching their hands together.
"So you're gonna keep count for me yeah?" He ask. Gerard nods, unable to speak. His cheeks are pink under his makeup, eyes glazed and wild. "Good boy." Frank smiles, continuing. "I'll be keeping count too." Gerard's eyes flicker, not ready to believe there's more. "I'll be counting everytime someone tells me how hot you look, or how nice you smell." He breathes in deeply then, appreciating the sharp tang of Gerard's cologne. "Every one of those is gonna be worth ten." He lets the last sentence drop like a bomb, watching Gerard's eyes widen as the meaning sinks in. Then he slips away, separating their bodies, leaving Gerard leaning heavily on the counter, blood racing with lust, head racing with consequences.
Frank stops halfway out of the room, turning back to speak from the doorway, his face all smirking triumph.
"Don't even think about messing with the number. I'll know. If you do I'll just pick my own number. I guarantee it'll be a lot higher."
The door slams shut, leaving Gerard alone in the room, his body boiling with want, his mind in a tumble. He's too lightheaded to stay upright so he walks over to sit on the bed. His pants are way too tight now and he seriously considers jerking off, just quickly, just to relieve the pressure/pain. But even if he had the time (which he doesn't) Frank would know. He'd know it in every line of Gerard when they meet at the band rendezvous point, he'd smell orgasm all over him. And he wouldn't be pleased.
The phone startles Gerard and takes any half assed decision he might have had away from him. It's Brian yelling at him to get his ass downstairs, they're all waiting on him. He stands, adjusts himself as best he can, and heads down to join the crew.
"Jeez, finally!" Brian yells as the elevator dings and Gerard steps out, zeroing in on the cluster of My Chem crew. "Hey, you look good, man. Now get in the fucking truck." Gerard lets himself be hurried into the armoured truck that's going to be their limo tonight. He can't believe that he hasn't even made it out of the hotel and he's already earned a point. Fucking Brian.
He climbs into the truck, taking a seat near Bob and looking around at his bandmates. Everyone's made an effort, all suited up and looking sharp, if a little uncomfortable.
"Well aren't we a sexy bunch of motherfuckers?" he announces, letting the guys chime in and agree with him. As they titter over who pulled the look off the best Frank catches Gerard's eye. He raises an eyebrow at him, smirking, holding up one finger.
Well shit. Gerard just earned himself a point. Fuck. This is going to be a hard night in every sense of the word. Gerard swallows, carefully wetting his lips with pointed pink tongue, not breaking eye contact with Frank. Frank's eyes follow the movement of Gerard's tongue. He's biting his lip, eyes promising retribution, fingers gripping tight to seat in front of him. Gerard knows it's taking every ounce of willpower for Frank to stay on that side of the van. Fuck it, he reasons, if he's gonna be punished tonight, then he's gonna share the pain around.
There is a little counter in Gerard's head for the rest of the night, with numbers that flip over like those old school alarm clocks. Every compliment flicks a little white number over, increasing, always increasing.
The red carpet is the worst.
Every single reporter oohs and aahs over him, most of them multiple times. The MTV2 chick seems pretty intent on trying to bed him and manages to compliment each individual item of clothing he's wearing. Thank god he skipped the tie tonight. When she starts going on about his shoes (they're fucking shoes bitch, get over it) he wonders if that actually counts. I mean, she's complimenting the *shoes*, not his own self. Surely this doesn't add to his number? But he's uncertain. What if Frank asks him later? What if he gets it wrong?
Something must be showing in his face, however subtly, because suddenly Frank's right behind him, a light touch on his shoulder, a whisper in his ear.
"If you're not sure if it counts - it counts." Just as swiftly he's gone, fingers trailing down Gerard's back, the briefest lightest brush across his ass, so quick it would look accidental. But it's not an accident. It's a promise.
Gerard is certain that if he could see the footage from that interview he would freeze frame it at that moment and his expression would be pure sex, all the desire and longing right there on camera for the world to see. Hopefully if anyone at the television station ever notices it, they'll just think that he really, really likes his shoes. And not the insipid reporter.
Once the gamut of reporter-infested red carpet is run, he's reached an even thirty. What is thirty times five? One hundred and fifty. Oh shit. He hasn't even made it inside yet, to the swirling mess of hangers-on and shoulder-rubbers. It's actually starting to seem a bit ridiculous now. If things continue at at this rate he's might have to negotiate some kind of payment plan with Frank or else never sit down again. He smiles a little to himself at the idea, perhaps he could trade off some spanks for a few blow jobs, some bondage, maybe some sex in public places? Frank is big on public sex, Gerard is not, but he does value the skin on his ass enough to consider it, however fleetingly.
He's in the crowded lobby sipping a specially ordered glass of diet coke when Frank catches his eye over the lip of his beer bottle. They're separated by about twenty people and twenty feet, but Frank's gaze cuts through all that space, his lips on the bottle neck entirely suggestive. He grins at Gerard, lowering the bottle to mouth at him "How many?"
Gerard knows exactly what he means and can't help rolling his eyes as he finds somewhere to put his glass down. He holds up both hands, fingers splayed, ten. He closes his hands to fists, opens them again. Twenty. Closes again. Opens again. Leaves them up to show it's the total. Thirty.
Thirty compliments. Even across the room Gerard can see the glitter of mischief in Frank's gaze as he widens his eyes and mouths "Ouch" at him. Fucking bastard is really enjoying this, his grin widening, tongue licking out across his bottom lip, eyes promising wickedness. Gerard is burning up just looking at him, he has to remind himself where he is, because public sex aversion or no, he's really not sure if he's going to get through the whole awards ceremony without busting something if he doesn't get some Frank action and soon.
Luckily or unfortunately, someone approaches Frank and drags him into conversation, breaking their connection. Gerard turns back to Bob and Ray, tuning back into the to-and-fro but not really listening. His mind is wild with images of things to come. His tongue caressing bluebirds. His teeth tugging a lip ring. His mouth sucking-
"Gerry!" Arms grab around Gerard from behind, catching him in a violent backwards hug. Coke slops out of his glass as he struggles to stay upright. He already knows who it is, no one else calls him Gerry.
"Hi Bert." He turns to face the stringy-haired singer, pasting on a smile and slapping him casually on the arm. Bert is already drunk and possibly buzzed on something illegal.
"Fucking look at you, fucking sex god." He slams Gerard in the chest, snickering. "Hot.. hat... haute couture!" He struggles the phrase out, getting a real laugh out of Gerard even as his internal counter flips over twice. Bert tends to repeat himself when he's drunk. This isn't a good thing. He manages to point at Gerard and yell "haute couture" three more times in the ensuing conversation and Gerard can almost feel his ass stinging. He chugs the last of his coke and pleads bathroom break, giving Bert an apologetic hug on his way past.
In reality it takes him another twenty minutes to get to the bathroom because he keeps getting stopped every three feet by a different person. Under any other circumstances he'd be flattered and happy to trade opinions with Pete Wentz and Billie Joe on their white suits, or compare notes on eyeliner with the Madden twins but he's really got to get out of this crowd because they're all being so fucking nice and complimenting his suit, his hair, his eyes, his goddamn shoes. The counter in his head is flipping over so fast the numbers are starting to blur.
Finally, finally he makes it to the bathroom and it is blessedly and miraculously empty. He takes a piss and washes his hands, wondering if he could stay here until it's time for the show to start, at least once they start giving out awards people will stop talking to him. He meets his own eyes in the mirror, taking a deep breath, trying to psyche himself up to go back out there. The ambient noise of the crowd outside grows louder as the door opens. Someone's coming in. That's Gerard's cue to leave. He gives his reflection one final glare, because really it's all the Gee in the mirror's fault, and steps towards the door.
Running right into Frank.
"Hey gorgeous." Frank's grinning at him wickedly. The counter flips once more.
Gerard should be really mad at him, or at least a little put out by all he's been put through, but all he wants to do his jump him. Franks knows this, of course. He takes Gerard's hands in his, palm to palm and even that contact is burning up Gerard's arms, down to his cock.
"How many?" Frank asks, face drifting closer, dropping a swift kiss on Gerard's mouth. Gerard's eyes snap to the door and back. This is risky. He doesn't like risky.
"Too many." he admits, eyes downcast. Their long term safeword hovers in the back of his mind, but he's not ready to say it, to admit defeat, just yet.
Frank drops one of his hands and reaches up to place his fingers at the back of Gerard's head, lightly stroking the sweet spot at the base of his neck. Gerard sighs deeply, head falling forward, a relaxed kind of desire rolling through him from Frank's sure touch. Frank knows all his buttons.
"How many, baby?" Frank asks again, gently. Gerard drags his eyes open, meeting a cheeky hazel gaze.
"Forty eight." he confesses.
"Shit." Frank's smile is a little incredulous. "That's a lot. You're hotter than I thought." Gerard opens his mouth to object, the counter in his mind flipping, but Frank stops him. "Don't count that one."
Frank glances at the door again, then back at Gerard, then suddenly they're in motion and he's shoving them both into one of the cubicles, locking the door and pulling Gerard toward him by his shirt front, catching his mouth in a kiss they've both been dying for all night. Frank's hand is on the back of Gerard's neck squeezing as their lips stroke. Gerard's hands are cradling Frank's ass, clutching and pulling him close. They kiss with a desperate abandon, hands roving and groping, tongues tangling and stroking, until Gee's lightheaded with it. Frank breaks the kiss, and Gerard falls back against the cool wall, chest heaving, eyeing his lover off.
His breathing almost back to normal, Frank looks up at Gerard. He very conspicuously checks his watch, before saying.
"I'm going to make you an offer. It stands for the next sixty seconds." He raises his eyebrows at Gerard questioningly, waiting for a nod, which he gets. He shifts closer to Gerard as he continues to speak, one hand going up to cup his lover's chin, fingers stroking over plump, moist lips. His breath is warm on Gerard's mouth as he utters, "One blow job, here, now and I halve your number."
Gerard's face creases up, a mixture of agony and intense lust. His head drops backward, bumping the wall lightly, his breath coming fast and panting. Suddenly there's not enough air in the too small cubicle and Gerard knows, he knows he's desperate because he's actually considering it. Anyone could walk in at any moment and see two pairs of shoes under their door and he's considering it.
But half. Half. Oh it could be so worth it.
"Forty five seconds." Frank whispers, drawing Gerard back out of his own mind.
"Halve my total?" Gerard asks, his mind whirling through his options. He's amazed he has enough brain capacity to be negotiating with Frank looking at him like that, all sin and sex and lust.
"No. Half of where you are right now. You walk out of this bathroom back on twenty four." Frank's hands finds Gerard's ass and squeeze, leaning in to swipe his tongue across Gerard's lips. "One hundred and twenty less strikes on your poor, sweet ass." He whispers against Gerard's lips, before pressing his own to them in lingering kiss.
Gerard can't think, the mathematical part of his brain has shut down, throwing up error messages and random porn files. Frank's lips are robbing him of every decision making brain cell, his whole mind is just singing sex sirens and oh god Frank knows how to use his tongue. Frank breaks the kiss, his hand firm around Gerard's throat, checking his watch and stating,
"Twenty five seconds."
Gerard hesitates, long ingrained fears of rumour humiliation and sex tapes holding him in catatonia. But Frank's fingers on his throat remind him who's in charge, encouraging him to remember how much this would please Frank, and he likes to please Frank, he really does.
"Fifteen seconds. And you can jerk yourself off. You have permission." Franks eyes are molten, his lips wet and slick. Gerard's knees weaken at the mention of jerking off, his cock kindly reminding him just how long he's been being teased. Who is he kidding? He can't say no to Frank. He never says no to Frank.
"Okay, but no fucking with the hair." He stipulates, reaching over to spin the toilet roll in the holder, spilling paper onto the floor in pile for him kneel on. He meets Frank's gaze, some kind of combination of triumph and pride, then captures Frank's mouth defiantly, pressing him back into the wall, hands groping for belt and fly. Frank's groan rumbles in his throat, as he leans against the wall, letting Gerard do all the work.
There's no time for art. Gerard kneels down on the paper pile, wrenching Frank's pants and boxers down, releasing his cock which he immediately covers with his mouth. He sucks and moves with practiced strokes, hands busily undoing his own belt and pants, moaning around Frank's cock when he gets his hand inside and fisted around his own hard length. Frank's got his hands clasped over his own mouth, trying not to moan but he can't help it, Gerard is so. Fucking. Good at this. And the view he has of those sweet lips around his dick and Gee's eyes looking up at him, it's so hot it's probably a mortal sin.
Gerard knows there's no way they can do this silently, so they're just going to have to do it quickly and hope their luck holds out. He pulls out all the stops, deep throating Frank as best he can, massaging his balls with one hand while the other is busy on his own cock. He keeps his eyes trained on Frank, who's head is lolling to the side, eyes half closed and an expression of ecstacy on his face that Gerard recognises from many guitar breakdowns. Frank's hands hover around Gerard's head, wanting so badly to sink into his hair, settling instead on his shoulders, clawing into the soft velvet of his jacket.
Gerard's got one hand fisted around Frank's dick, stroking, his mouth following the movement, the two moving as one. Everything about what he's doing is designed to get Frank off as quickly as possible, from his squeezing fingers to his swirling, sucking tongue, to his "fuck me" eyes beaming up at Frank. It's fucking working too, Frank's starting to tremble and vibrate, clawing one hand over his mouth as the other tightens on Gerard's shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks through the layers of fabric. His eyes squeeze shut, he's choking back moans, Gerard's sucking, Frank's shaking, he's thrusting, he's coming... coming, with a half swallowed cry of release. He looks down at Gerard, the sight of him swallowing filling him with heat and pride.
Frank's breathing hasn't even had time to calm when Gerard pulls his mouth off, pressing his face into Frank's abdomen as he speeds the movement of his hand on his own cock. His mouth and tongue rove over hot skin decorated with bluebirds as he tosses off with swift, quick movements, all about speed, all about getting over the line as quickly as possible.
Frank's fingers slide under Gerard's chin, directing his gaze upwards to Frank, so he can watch him, see his face when he gets off. When their eyes meet Gerard's are hazy with lust and approaching orgasm, Frank's are warm and sated and drinking in every detail. Two of Frank's fingers slip into Gerard's mouth and he can't help but suck on them, his hand is moving like lightning now and he can feel his climax coming. His eyelids are fluttering, strobing his view of Frank, Frank with his hungry gaze, staring down at Gee, kneeling on the floor and jerking off in a public fucking bathroom.
"Come on Gee. Come for me you little slut. Let me see you. I want to see you lose it." Frank's heated whisper sends him over the edge and Gerard's shooting, aiming down onto the pile of tissue on the floor, hips bucking, teeth grazing Frank's fingers as he chokes out a groan that bounces off the bathroom tiles.
It takes a while for his breathing to slow, his forehead pressing Frank's hip bone as he calms himself. Frank pulls him to feet, stroking a thumb down his face, catching his mouth in a slow kiss, bitter taste mingling between them. When their lips part Frank whispers, "You're gonna be tasting me all night now." and Gerard licks his lips and smiles lazily, every movement languid with recent orgasm. "Get dressed." Frank instructs.
Gerard flops back against the wall, fuzzy and lightheaded as he straightens his clothes, buttoning his pants, buckling his belt. They flush the pile of paper and slip out of the stall carefully, even though they would've heard if someone entered the bathroom. Gerard catches his own reflection in the mirror above the sink, his slack mouth, pink cheeks and swollen lips probably a dead giveaway, but at least his hair is still perfect. He meets Frank's eyes in the mirror and Frank catches his hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss his palm.
"Twenty four." He says with a nod. Gerard returns the nod and they head for the door, Frank drawing Gerard behind him by their still linked hands, not releasing his hold til they are nearly outside.
The noise of the lobby descends on them as the door opens, stepping bravely forward back into the hubub. Frank idles at the bathroom door a moment too long and Gerard turns back just in time to see him tear a scrawled "OUT OF ORDER" sign down from the door and throw it in the bin.
He slams into Frank muttering, "Asshole."
But he's grinning when he says it.
Gerard finishes strapping himself into his bullet proof vest, checking himself in the mirror to make sure everything's in place. The Gee in the mirror looks good. Looks ready. With one final hair fuss he heads for the door, trailing in the wake of Ray and Bob who've just left the dressing room on their way down to the green room. He's nearly to the door when he hears a voice. Frank's voice.
"So I was thinking. About the after party." The tone of command in Frank's voice stills Gerard's feet immediately. Something warm twists low in his belly as he turns to face his bandmate, who's perched on the arm of one of the very clean dressing room couches. Frank's leaning comfortably, his tone for all intents and purposes casual, but that voice he's using... That's his game voice. Gerard knows that voice, he's heard it in many situations - shoved up against a wall - on his knees with a mouth full of dick - naked, flat on his back, cock deep inside him.
His legs start to feel liquid, heartbeat picking up pace. They're due in the green room right now and due on stage in less than half an hour. Surely Frank's not going to start something now? Even as the panicked thought flits through his mind he knows he's wrong. Of course Frank's going to start something now. He loves to catch Gerard off guard, pull something at the last minute that leaves them both gasping for air and running late.
"Get the door." Frank instructs simply, all traces of casual lost from his voice.
Absently, Gerard reaches behind him for the door, shoving it closed with a light slam.
"We're due in the green room now." Gerard's voice is low and soft, a gentle reminder, not an argument. His gaze has dropped to the ground in front of him, studying the too-white carpet in front of his chucks. He's fallen into a submissive posture without even really thinking, it's so automatic, triggering at Frank's authoritative tone.
Frank's red chucks appear, stepping into the patch of carpet Gerard's staring at. Frank's right in front of him now, giving him a noseful of his scent, a tangy aftershave with an underlying musk of sweat and heat. Frank runs hot all the time, thrumming and vibrating with an energy that he never seems to fully burn off. He'd be warm in that suit, that gorgeous three piece suit he's sporting with a casual grace so easy he could be wearing cutoffs. He'll only get warmer when they get on stage.
"I know that. Slut." Frank's voice is gravelly, brooking no argument. Heat uncoils in Gerard's belly as Frank stalks around him, drinking in the sight of him from every angle. At least he imagines that's what Frank's doing, Gerard's eyes are still trained on the floor.
"Are you in such a rush to go and sit on your ass in the green room?" There's a tease in Frank's voice now. "You just wanna enjoy some time sitting down before I spank your ass raw tonight, do you?" Frank's hands grip Gerard's ass and squeeze, trumpeting a reminder to Gerard of what he's yet to face tonight, of what his ass has yet to endure. His eyes fall shut, head dropping forward even further as a thick liquid heat courses through him.
Jesus fuck, he'd been doing so well. He'd made it through the awards ceremony so far without thinking too much about Frank's game. He'd even managed to enjoy himself for the most part, his mind only occasionally skittering across thoughts of what was to come at the end of the night. It didn't matter so much when those thoughts struck him in the low light of the theatre, the noise of the show and crowd covering his accelerated breathing, the heat in his cheeks.
Under the bright lights of the dressing room every symptom of his arousal was on show for Frank, from his sharp breaths to his pinkening cheeks, to his ever-tightening jeans.
Frank's feet still, settling in front of Gerard, back inside his patch of carpet. Two fingertips press under Gerard's chin and he looks up, vision full of Frank's face, his assessing eyes, the hard line of his mouth.
"How many?" Frank asks, the question now familiar, generating heat, spiking Gerard's heartbeat.
Gerard meets Frank's lidded gaze levelly. "Twenty seven." He struggles not to do the math as his lips form the number. He doesn't want to acknowledge that other, much higher number, just yet.
Frank raises an eyebrow, considering. "It's slowing down."
"With the awards, there's not much-" Gerard's rush to explain is cut short but firm grip of Frank's fingers on his jaw.
"Did I ask you a question, slut?" Frank's eyes are sparking fire as he spits out the words, authority in every line of him and Gerard's trembling from it. He loves Frank like this, all tough, hot attitude and tearing him down. Taking charge and pulling him in line.
Not willing to risk speaking out of turn, Gerard just shakes his head, slowly and gently, as Frank's still cupping his jaw.
"If I want an opinion I'll fucking ask for it." Frank retorts, all fired up and annoyed.
Gerard's watches him carefully. Frank's eyes keep dropping to Gerard's mouth. Frank's itching to kiss him, Gerard knows this. He also knows Frank wont, not now, it would be too much like a reward for talking back. Frank settles for just pressing his thumb on Gerard's lower lip, pulling it down slightly, toying with the plump flesh.
Without really thinking about it, Gerard's tongue slips out, brushing across Frank's thumb, tasting salt. Frank's eyes flutter and soften a little, emboldening Gerard to shift forward and suck Frank's thumb into his mouth, bathing it with his tongue, lightly scraping it with his teeth. Frank's swaying a little on his feet in response, eyes sliding shut, breathing picking up, loud and audible in the quiet room. Frank's lost his train of thought completely now, hijacked by sensation. Gerard pushes it further, sucking right down to the base of Frank's thumb, nuzzling at his hand. Frank's free hand comes to rest on Gerard's hip, tightening his fingers to grip on as Frank tries to keep his balance.
Gerard can tell it's taking everything Frank has not to just throw him up against the wall and ravish him right now. He's not entirely sure why he's doing this, it's never a good idea to undermine Frank when he's in game mode, but he can't help it. Frank's just too fucking delicious not to taste.
A sharp intake of breath from Frank and a jerk of head upright signals his return to form. He pulls his thumb from Gerard's mouth, swiping the wet tip across those sinful lips.
"You just can't help yourself can you?" Gerard doesn't answer. He knows he's not supposed to. "I was going to make you an offer. But I'm not sure if you deserve it. You're not being very well behaved."
Gerard's eyes fall to the floor again, head bowing automatically, trying belatedly to earn his way back into Frank's good graces. Another offer could make a big difference to his total, hopefully he hasn't blown it.
"Now what was I saying before you started mouth-fucking my hand?" It's a hypothetical question really, but Gerard answers it anyway, trying to be so helpful.
"The after party. You've been thinking about it."
A wicked grin lights Frank's face as he remembers. Gerard can't see it, but he can hear it in Frank's voice when he says,
"Right. The after party." Frank's in motion then, stalking around Gerard as he speaks. "There's gonna be a lot people there. Drunk people. Horny people." He stops to stand behind Gerard, hands resting on Gerard's shoulders, leaning in to speak near his ear. "They're gonna want you. Be checking you out. Hitting on you. Telling you how pretty you are."
He's so fucking right. Gerard's been avoiding thinking about the after party. He knows he's gonna earn more points in ten minutes than he has the whole night and he's not looking forward to it. So far he's been dealing with it by not dealing with it, but Frank's solution will probably be better. Though it'll come at a cost.
Gerard's breath is hissing through his teeth. He's waiting for Frank to continue. The weight of Frank's hands on his shoulders is sending heat down his body. His eyes flicker up from the floor for a moment, catching briefly on the television in the corner, muted, showing the awards broadcast. Reminding him how little time they have, they should be in the green room right now, Brian will be flipping. But Gerard's not moving, not a fucking chance. He's got to hear this.
Frank takes a breath before he continues, his words puffing warm air on the back of Gerard's neck.
"I'm willing to adjust our counting system. I'm thinking that compliments at the after party shouldn't be worth five strikes." A warm hand on Gerard's ass now as Frank continues to speak. "I think they should just be worth one. Does that sound fair?" He asks innocently.
Gerard's eyes spark open. His mind leaps excitedly. Hell yeah, that sounds fucking fair. It sounds better than fair. He stumbles over himself to answer,
"Yeah - yes. It sounds fair. Yes. Yes, I agree." Trying to keep his voice level, not show his excitement.
Frank's body presses closer behind him, leaning in to whisper in his ear and Gerard can hear the smirking smile in his voice.
"Aren't we quick to agree? But you haven't heard it all yet."
Gerard’s stomach sinks. Of course there is more. This generosity wont come without a price.
"I'd be doing you a big fucking favour if grant you this. I expect a favour in return." So much heat in Frank's voice, right in Gerard's ear. Frank's arms slide around to hold Gerard, gripping across his chest and hips tightly and possessively.
"What favour?" Gerard's voice is shaky, with nerves but also with lust. The way Frank's pressing into him is setting off every pleasure sensor in his body, he's very quickly liquefying under Frank's touch.
"I want to see you come. Before we go on stage. You gotta come for me." Gerard nearly crumbles in Frank's arms, the words striking him in two directions, sending a bolt of heat straight to his cock even as his brain starts freaking out at the very idea of taking up Frank's offer. Fuck. He should've seen this coming. Frank's got him bailed up in the fucking dressing room how could he not have seen it coming? But there's no time. They have to perform soon. They need to be gone and now.
Gerard's heart is beating fit to burst, panic rising up inside him. His first instinct is to run, get away from Frank and his mad dangerous schemes, get to the fucking green room before Brian comes looking for them.
But the offer. Oh fuck the offer is so good. One strike per compliment for the entire after party. It would take all the hell out of the after party for him, erase so much dread from the night to come.
Frank's whispering in his ear, voice a steady stream of wickedness and Gerard's starting to cave, heat in his cock fighting to overrule his mind, turning down the volume on the screaming panic.
"It's a good offer. You should take it. Just imagine how much less your ass will be hurting when I fuck you tonight." Gerard's eyes roll back at this, mouth falling slack, Frank's voice just undoing him. "And I will fuck you tonight. Your ass will be red and raw and hot to touch when I'm fucking it, still stinging when I'm ramming inside you and you'll fucking take it and you'll fucking love it."
"Oh fuck Frank..." Gerard's voice is pained, he's struggling with so much. Struggling to stay upright, to keep his head on, to achieve some semblance of professionalism for the band at one of the biggest awards nights they've been nominated at. He's trying, so hard, to remember why they shouldn't do this here. Now.
But in the end Frank wins. Frank always wins.
Gerard's admission of defeat is a spin on his feet to face Frank, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss, pushing him back against the closed door. Gerard's reaching to flip the lock on the door when Frank grabs his arm, breaking the kiss to admonish him.
"No locking the door." The hard command in Frank's voice just turns Gerard on more, even as a voice in his brain screams at him about getting busted, barely registering above the surging roar of desire.
Gerard just slams his lips on Frank's again, turning their bodies so it's his back against the door. Not much of a defence if someone really wants to get in (there is no keeping Brian out when he's pissed off) but it would buy him a few seconds and give him something to hide behind if it came to that.
Sucking on Frank's tongue, his hands scrabble for his belt. His cock is pressing insistently at his fly now, rigid from Frank's wicked diatribe. He fumbles his button open and the zip scrapes down then he's pushing the way-too-tight pants down his thighs distractedly, underwear too, releasing his pale cock to the air-conditioned cool air. He's so hard he's amazed there's any blood left in his brain to work his hand as he grabs his dick and squeezes. He has to break the kiss with Frank to sigh out his pleasure. He's not jerking just yet, not straight away, he's just holding himself firmly, revelling in his own tight grip.
"You gonna jerk that?" Frank whispers heatedly, leaning back from Gerard to take in the view. Gerard's leaning back on the wall, fist around his cock, clothing covering him from neck to feet except for the expanse of white skin from his hips to his thighs. Frank reaches up to tuck Gerard's front shirttails up under his bulletproof vest, clearing a free path to Gerard's cock for his hungry eyes.
Gerard nods distractedly in answer to Frank's question, rubbing his hand over his cock, polishing the tip. He's leaking precome, which he spreads around, loving the way it makes his hand slide over the soft taut skin of his erection. His head is lolling back with the pleasure of it all, eyes half closed and unfocused.
"Oh fuck yeah." Frank growls appreciatively, pulling a chair over and dropping down into it, leaning forward on his knees and just watching intently, eyes roving over Gerard, devouring the view. "That's right stroke it. Fuck how good does that feel?"
"So good. So fucking good." Gerard's gasping out, eyes fluttering closed. His whole body is swaying as he milks himself, his breath coming in gasps.
"Look at me. I wanna see your eyes. This is my fucking show, slut." Gerard's eyes snap open at Frank's order, locking onto Frank and jesus, he could come from that look. Frank's so hungry, possessive, so ridiculously turned on. Every inch of Gerard's exposed skin is zinging with sensation, like Frank's gaze is a physical caress. He jerks faster, tightening his grip, moaning as he does, thankful for the solidity of the door behind him or he'd be on the floor by now.
Footsteps in the hall outside and his heartbeat spikes. His hand pumps harder, faster, worrying it's Brian come looking for them, fuck could he get off now, right now, before Brian gets the door open? He doesn't think so but he's gonna try, his strokes amping up faster, breath stuttering, hand a blur of movement.
He hears the voices outside that match the footsteps. Female. Thank fuck for that.
The panic's done nothing but feed his desire and when he drags his eyes back to Frank his breath hitches. Frank's staring at him greedily, his hands gripping his knees, gnawing on his lip, expression of pure want on his face. Gerard's hips arch up off the wall, humping his hand as he strokes his cock, biting his lip and swallowing moans. He's on fire, his whole existence fixated on his throbbing cock, Frank's gaze eating up the sight of him. He's humping and rolling and bucking in his hand, not sure how this could get any hotter when Frank opens his mouth and it does.
"That's right baby, that's fucking right. Jerk it. Come on milk it for me. You look so fucking hot right now. So gorgeous you can't even keep your hands to yourself. Such a slut. Such a pretty slut."
Gerard has to slap his free hand over his mouth to contain keening moans. He's pumping his cock now, the building throb in his groin alerting him that he's close, so close to completion. Frank's voice is rolling over him in a steady stream, drawing him over the line.
"Oh fuck you're nearly there aren't you? Come on, fucking come for me you greedy slut. Just let go. Just fucking lose it."
It's Frank's voice that undoes him. He's pounding his hips, frantically pulling at his length, moaning and panting and then FUCK. It's upon him, he's coming, hips jerking up, biting back a scream and shooting cream onto the too-fucking-white carpet.
Gerard collapses forward, leaning on his knees and panting as Frank approaches. Frank plants his feet on Gerard's spatter and grinds it into the carpet with his chucks. He tugs a woozy Gerard upright, grabbing his hands and raising them to his face. Slowly, so slowly, he licks Gerard's palms and fingers, cleaning off the last of the spunk, the taste of Gerard heavy in his mouth.
"That was so. Fucking. Hot." He states between licks. Gerard snorts, still flying high from his orgasm, feeling flushed and mussed and oh so buzzed. He's grinning madly at Frank, not quite back on the ground yet. Frank just wants to fuck him through the door, but a glance at the TV in the corner tells him they're way overdue so he helps Gerard dress instead, trying not to touch him too much, resisting the urge to stroke that heated skin that's screaming for his attention.
A rapid loud knock and suddenly the door is opening. Gerard leans back against it in a panic, scrabbling to get his zip done up and his belt buckled as Brian's annoyed yell fires in from outside.
"Do you want us to perform without a vocalist and rhythm guitarist? GET THE FUCK OUT!"
Frank holds the door closed for the extra ten seconds it takes Gerard to get his belt done up, trying to soothe Brian out there on the other side.
"Just a fucking minute alright?"
Gerard nods at him that he's okay to go now. Frank's eyes give him a once over, he can't see anything out of place (well aside from the heightened colour in Gerard's cheeks and the slightly sweaty mussed look to his hair, which he'll get away with). He returns Gerard's nod, but doesn't open the door until after he's delivered his lover with one brief possessive kiss, communicating all his pent up desire and making so many promises about where the night will end.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight." He states hungrily, turning away to open the door before Gerard can respond. So quick, he doesn't get to see the look of utter want telegraphing from Gerard's face, in spite of his recent orgasm.
Then they're being bustled down the hall by a very put-out Brian and pushed into the green room (where they still have to wait another ten minutes anyway).
If anyone in the band notices that Gerard's voice is a bit hoarser, a bit throatier than usual when they perform "Helena", they don't say anything. That his movements are somehow a bit more fluid, a bit looser than normal doesn't rate a mention either. If it's possible, Frank is more amped he's ever been, vibrating energy, playing so hard his arms might fall off, jumping and bouncing off every surface.
If Ray, Mikey or Bob notice, they don't comment, and they certainly don't deign to think what it might mean.
The after party is, in a word, torture. It's easily the longest night of Gerard's life.
It probably doesn't help that he's sober while the crowd around him are getting drunker and more obnoxious by the minute. It certainly doesn't help when roving reporters corner him and speak loudly and insincerely at him, eyes always scanning the crowd behind him, looking for a bigger star. Every insincere compliment they spout at him adds another strike to his count and he despises them for it.
He could handle all that, though. If that's all it was. But it's not the worst part. The worst part is Frank.
Pressing through the crush to get into the main room of the after party, and suddenly Frank's body is pushed up against his, breath hot on his neck, warmth of Frank's body at his back. To an onlooker, they're just stuck in the crush of bodies, people jostling for position, but it's so deliberate Gerard wants to scream. He can't help the way his head falls forward, his shuffling steps slowing so their bodies press together harder. Frank's hand lightly rests on Gerard's hip and it's just not enough contact, he wants more, wants this tease to end.
It probably only lasts five minutes, but for Gerard it feels like hours before they get into the ballroom. As the crowd disperses into the wide room Frank's body slides away from his, one last squeeze of his ass like a fond goodbye. As Frank wanders towards the bar Gerard's feet anchor themselves to the ground. He's stuck there, standing by the doorway, people streaming past him, just breathing, centring himself for long moments. When he moves away he's ready to deal with the party again, ready to talk and charm and play the ever-knowing frontman. But he can still feel the heat of Frank's hand on him. His owner's hand.
Frank's hands find him at least twice more as Gerard does his rounds. It's always casual, designed to look accidental but Gerard knows it isn't. He's chatting to Diddy about digital rights when he feels a hand at the base of his spine. It's not light enough to be a casual passerby. He knows instinctively who it is, the pressure of the hand a mark of ownership. It lingers a moment before slipping away and Gerard glances down in time to see Frank's red chucks shuffle past. He's very fucking proud of himself when he manages to finish his conversation without stumbling over his words.
He's chatting to Patrick from Fall Out Boy when he feels Frank's hands again. This time Frank approaches him properly, muttering something about Brian wanting him to talk to some reporter. The words are unimportant. Frank's fingers resting gently at the base of his neck as he speaks, each fingertip a spot of heat on Gerard's skin, are all that matters. Gerard concentrates very hard on keeping his eyes open and his face blank. All he wants to do is grab Frank and maul him. He doesn't somehow. He nods, he smiles, says he'll be right over, every move calculated and his very best impression at normal. But he can smell Frank, his aftershave and sweat. He stares at Frank's mouth as his lips form words, imagining other uses for them.
Somehow he manages not to follow Frank like a puppy when he slips back into the crowd. He turns very deliberately back to Patrick, twisting his hands behind his back so he doesn't reach out to grab after him. Patrick looks thoughtful, which worries Gerard. But there's no other clues to suggest that he's regarding anything that just happened as outside of the ordinary, so they tie up the conversation and Gerard goes to find out what Brian wants.
Gerard dutifully does the rounds of the party. Somehow the diet coke in his hand is kept constantly full and even with his high tolerance for caffeine he knows he'll be up all night. Of course he'll be up all night... fuck. He loses track of the conversation around him as his head fills with images of the what's yet to come. Hands, skin, leather of his collar, Frank's lips shiny and wet. He floods with warmth and casts his eyes down, hoping the Warners suits he's chatting to don't notice the flush of his cheeks. Fuck. Even a casual thought about something so mundane as a drink can send his mind off on flights of fancy. He's got it bad.
Excusing himself from the suits and yet another conversation he wasn't really participating in, he searches out a quiet spot. There's a bunch of small balconies for smokers along the outside of the main room. He steps out into an empty one, the night air cooling his too-warm skin. He's just scrabbling in his pockets for his cigarettes when in a flash he's getting slammed back against the wall and suddenly Frank's tongue is in his mouth.
He wants to scream at Frank for all the torture he's going through, vent his frustration at him. He can't. He's too busy kissing back and he wants the kiss more. He clutches onto Frank's back, devouring his mouth. Feels the press of Frank's lip ring against his lips. He's instantly hard and pressing his hips at Frank's, clasping their bodies together. Frank's kissing him fiercely, tongue stroking his, teeth nipping. Frank's hips keep bouncing against Gerard's and Gerard knows he's not the only one who's been suffering. Even though tonight's torture is all Frank's own doing, he's hurting from it too, just as desperate for the night to be over and for them to be back in their hotel room, finally getting what they both crave.
Frank's peeling Gerard's hands off him, breaking the kiss, stepping back. One wicked smile on his still-panting lips and then he's gone. It's like a drive by seduction and Gerard is shaking. Alone on the balcony, hotter than the sun, panting for breath, his cock hard in his way-too-tight pants and Frank is gone. Well shit.
Gerard drops heavily into a chair on the balcony, reaching for his cigarettes and trying to slow down his breathing. He stays out there for twenty minutes, not even caring who he might be pissing off inside.
It's well past 2am when his phone beeps. He's back at the party, playing dutiful-if-reluctant bandmember. He pulls out his phone. It's a message from Frank.
Go downstairs. There's a car waiting.
All he can think is thank god. He doesn't bother telling anyone he's going except Mikey, pleading boredom and fatigue. When he gets to the lobby the concierge directs him outside where a limo waits, the driver holding up a sign saying only "IERO". Gerard is infinitely disappointed when he climbs into the limo and it's unoccupied, the driver leaving without waiting for anymore passengers. Gerard rides back to the hotel alone.
The hotel room is also empty. The hotel staff have been and gone, leaving a beside lamp on, covers neatly turned. Gerard sinks onto the bed slowly. This room is so quiet after all the noise of the party, all he can hear is his own breathing and low hum of air conditioning. It's too quiet. The silence presses on him, making him feel stupidly lonely.
He leaps for his phone when it rings. It's Frank.
"Hello?" Gerard asks carefully. He can hear the noise of music and crowd in the background. Frank's still at the party. Damn it. He's going to make him wait.
"Are you at the hotel?" Gerard can see Frank's face in his head as he listens. Frank's calling from right in the middle of the crowd where anyone could hear him.
"Yes." Gerard answers.
"When I get there I want you clean. And naked. And wearing your collar." Gerard's eyes fall shut at Frank's words. He's heating up already. Just from words.
"I expect you to be on the bed, on your knees. And hard." Gerard swallows, his hand falling absently to his crotch, he's already getting hard.
"Can I-" He starts to ask meekly but Frank cuts him off.
"You can touch yourself. But you don't have permission to come." Gerard's breath hisses out in a sigh. He falls back on the bed, his hand tightening on himself through his pants already. There must be something in his voice, the way he sighs because Frank knows.
"You starting already?" Gerard can hear the grin in Frank's voice.
"Maybe." Gerard whispers desperately, hand still squeezing himself through his pants.
"You little slut." The smile is still in Frank's voice when he says it. Gerard wants to know how long it will be until Frank gets here, but he knows better than to ask. He wouldn't get an answer anyway.
"I expect by the time I get there you'll have done the math."
Gerard very carefully doesn't think about that.
Dial tone in his ear as Frank hangs up. Gerard lies there for a while, listening to it as he shapes his cock through his pants. It's a special kind of torture, being able to touch himself but not come. He knows the more he indulges himself the harder it's going to make his wait. But he's so ready for more now. It's been long excruciating hours since he got off in the dressing room by his own hands and Frank's eyes. He luxuriates in the press of his fingers a little longer, caressing himself through his clothes only. If he goes further than that it'll be costly one way or the other.
The warm water of the shower is a welcome distraction, though undressing to get into it is an exercise in restraint. He washes himself thoroughly but carefully, trying to keep his touch as clinical as possible. He tells himself he's making sure he's clean for Frank when he slips two soapy fingers into his ass. That doesn't make it any less enjoyable.
It isn't until he clean and dry, the familiar weight of his collar fastened around his neck, kneeling on the bed as instructed that he lets himself think about numbers.
It's been tricky for him to keep the numbers straight in his head. He's had to keep track of two since the after party started. He topped out at 33 at the awards. The last one was an usher of all people, showing back to his seat after they'd been on stage. An usher for chrissakes. Are they even allowed to speak?
The after party is almost a blur. The few times he slipped away to smoke quietly on the balcony probably saved him umpteen hits. He finished up at 49 for the after party alone. At least ten of those were drunken Bert's fault.
33 and 49. It doesn't sound so bad when he puts it that way. But the awards portion of the count still needs to be multiplied by five.
Gerard doesn't trust himself to do it, so he grabs his phone from the bedside table, opens the calculator tool and taps in 33 * 5 =
He draws a breath, hysteria rising in him as he taps in + 49 =
Jesus. A demented laugh bubbles to his lips. He buries his face in his hands, laughing like a madman.
Two hundred and fourteen. Two hundred and fourteen. The number rolls through his mind on repeat. He's not going to survive this. He can't possibly. Two hundred and fourteen. He's never taken more than fifty in one go and that fucking hurt.
Surely Frank's got one more offer for him. One more deal to cut the number down, he's thinking desperately. He knows it's an idle hope. If Frank was going to pull another offer on him it would have happened at the after party, where there's other people and risk, not here at the hotel with it's safety and self-locking doors.
No, he's just going to have to take it. All of it. All two hundred and fourteen strikes.
He kneels on the bed, hands stretched out in front of him, forehead resting on the cool sheets. This is how he'll be when Frank arrives, the pose he'll strike. He's gonna be so fucking well behaved, Frank will want to take it easy on him. He'll be pliant as a paid hooker and the picture of obedience.
He's showered, he's collared, he's done the math. Now he just has to make sure he stays hard til Frank arrives.
It isn't a difficult task. He reaches down and grasps his cock, already half hard. His mind flashes back to the hurried blowjob in the bathroom, jerking off in the dressing room for Frank, hot eyes all over him. He gives himself a few strokes. Yeah, he's hard now. He thumbs his slit, spreading pre-come down his shaft, fingers sliding and slippery.
He moans a little, the sound loud in the empty room. He rolls his hips, hand twisting slightly as he slowly pumps his cock. Sighs out a breath, groaning deep in his throat. Rests his forehead on the sheets, mouth slack.
Hurry up, Frank. Just hurry up.
He's not sure if it's minutes or seconds after that thought that he hears the click and beep of the hotel door unlocking. With one final squeeze of his cock, Gerard slides into position. Both hands flat on the bed in front of him, resting on his elbows, ass high, forehead on the sheets.
He doesn't look up when he hears the door open. He stays perfectly still, listening to Frank's feet padding softly across the carpet. He keeps his gaze fixed on the bedspread in front of him, the fibres of cloth blurring at such close proximity to his eyes. He can hear Frank breathing, sense him hovering nearby, but it's still a shock and he nearly jumps at the touch of Frank's cool fingers on his thigh. The touch slides upwards, over the curve of his ass, along his back, zinging sensation through him, raising goosebumps on his skin.
Frank's hand stops at his neck, tugs gently at his collar. He makes a little "hmph" noise in his throat and Gerard can't read if it's good or bad. He hopes it's good. Frank's hand trails down his back again, sliding around his waist, across his pelvis, then lower, closing around his cock.
Gerard's breath hisses into his lungs at the touch. His mouth falls open and he knows he's drooling onto the bedspread but he doesn't really care at this point. Frank's hand doesn't move, just holds him, firmly but not squeezing. He leans in, breath on Gerard's ear as he whispers,
"Two hundred and fourteen." Gerard's voice is croaky from disuse when he says it. "Total strikes." He adds, so Frank knows it's the final number, all calculations complete.
Frank's breath hisses in sharply. His other hand palms Gerard's left ass cheek, grabbing and gripping firmly, almost painfully tight. His hand on Gerard's cock is still firm, squeezing just a little, barely perceptible.
"Shit that's a lot. That's more than four times what you've ever had before." Frank's hand is splayed and circling over Gerard's ass cheeks as he speaks, rubbing spirals with his palm. Gerard can't help but shiver, remembering the time Frank gave him fifty. He was a sweaty mess by the end of it, ass raw and voice hoarse from groaning.
"Do you think you can take it?" Frank asks, voice still a low whisper. Gerard wants to say yes and say it proudly and for sure, but he just doesn't know. It's a huge number.
"I earned it." He says instead, hips swaying slightly under the movement of Frank's hand. Frank's caresses are strangely calming, even as his body holds the tension of his erection and the apprehension of his punishment to come.
"Fuck yeah you did." Gerard can hear the grin in Frank's voice, the little breathy note of pride. "Looking so fucking pretty, you earned every single one."
Gerard has to swallow a moan of loss as Frank’s grip releases his cock, his hand sliding around to Gerard's other ass cheek and Frank's rubbing them both now, massaging the white globes of flesh. They wont stay white for long.
"You're being very well behaved." Frank says, and Gerard can't help but smile into the bedcovers. "You've followed instructions well. I think I might let you choose what I spank you with."
Gerard almost starts to speak, knowing his choice immediately, but Frank's not done talking.
"But it has to be one of the three things I'm gonna name." Frank's touch on Gerard's ass is lighter now, he's just dragging his short fingernails lightly over the skin, sending frissions up Gerard's back.
"You can choose... the paddle. The one that's in my suitcase, the leather one we got in New York." Gerard knows which one he means and he knows straight away he doesn't want it. It's made of heavy thick leather and has a smacking sting when it lands on flesh.
"Or you can choose... " Frank trails off briefly, thinking. "This belt that I'm wearing now." Gerard's mind whirls backward, trying to remember which belt it is. It's leather he thinks, not studded but thick. Probably worse than the paddle. Fuck, these are not good options.
He knows what he wants to choose. Frank's bare hands. He still has a chance.
He waits, breathing shallowly, for the third option.
"Or... " Frank's really drawing it out now. Fucker. He knows what torture this is and he's doing it on purpose. "Or I could just use my hands." Gerard's breath rushes out in relief. Frank's hands still and vanish from Gerard's ass. Gerard feels a tug at his collar and follows it, letting Frank pull his head up, looking at him for the first time since he entered the room. He looks slightly tired, but content and viciously devilish.
"So which one?" Frank asks, like he doesn't already know the answer.
"The third." Gerard's voice is low and throaty. "Your hands, please."
Frank's face splits into a wicked grin.
"You're so predictable." He loops one finger through the heavy silver ring at the front of Gerard's collar, pulling up on it. Gerard follows the movement, coming up onto his knees as Frank pulls his head closer, claiming his lips in a kiss. Gerard kneels up on the bed, arms twining around Frank's shoulders, pressing his naked body against Frank's clothed one, the fabric of the suit rough against his bare skin.
He wishes he could turn and look in the mirror. He's sure they're making the perfect picture of Dom and sub at this moment, him naked and collared, Frank still in his suit and tie. He squirms against Frank as their tongues tangle, fighting the urge to put his hands on Frank's crotch without permission. Frank's hands are gripping his ass, holding his body close and they're rubbing on each other, just getting lost in the chemistry. Frank steps out of it first, breaking the kiss and Gerard lets go of him reluctantly.
He can tell by Frank's breathing it wasn't easy to stop, but Frank doesn't acknowledge it, just strokes Gerard's hair back from his face, petting him like a cat before saying,
"Kneeling down again. Like you were before."
Gerard's heart starts pounding. This is it. It's going to start now. His fingers twitch and he feels curiously lightheaded as he returns to his original position on the bed, kneeling and leaning forward. He hears Frank shrug out of his jacket, the fabric slide of him pulling off his tie. Light thumps as he kicks off his shoes, but Frank doesn't undress any further. His hands press onto Gerard's ass, palms flat, fingers splayed and warm on Gerard's cool cheeks.
"We'll do the first hundred like this." Gerard suppresses a shiver. Such big numbers. "For the rest, I put you over my knee." Gerard's cock spasms at that, jerking up to bump at his belly. Gerard prefers being put over Frank's knee, the press of Frank's thighs against his chest, the feel of his hardon pressing up as he spanks Gerard, knowing how much he enjoys doing it.
He's got a hundred spanks before he'll get to be in that position, so he takes a breath, steels his spine and tries to relax. It hurts more if he's tense.
"You'll count aloud every five." Frank instructs and Gerard understands. They've done this before.
The first spank isn't too hard, but it's still a shock. The second, third, fourth and fifth follow hot on it's heels. Frank alternates between right and left cheeks, keeping them relatively light, warming him up. At the fifth Gerard speaks.
"Five what?" Frank snarls.
"Five. Thank you."
Six, seven, eight, nine,
"Ten. Thank you." Frank's slowly increasing the intensity. Gerard can feel his ass cheeks growing warm and there's a sting building up but it's slow to happen. Frank's drawing him into it. They've got a long way to go.
By the time they reach the forties Gerard's breathing is heavy. He's flushed all over and his ass is stinging now even when Frank's not hitting it. Frank's concentrating most of the hits in the same area, the fleshiest parts of his ass, but occasionally either by accident or design, he hits a little higher or lower, where there's less flesh and it stings a bit more. The force behind the hits is ever increasing also, and Gerard knows they're at the point where Frank's got to be feeling it in his hand. But he keeps going.
"Fifty. Thank you." Gerard's voice is breathless and slightly muffled into the mattress. Frank leans down and blows gently over his ass cheeks and Gerard feels the prickle of the cool air on his skin. He whimpers slightly, hands fisting in the sheets.
"That's fifty baby. How are you feeling?" Gerard doesn't manage an answer because Frank's fingers find his cock and start squeezing it, encouraging it back from semi-hard to fully-hard with firm strokes. Gerard moans into the sheets, hips hitching and rolling with Frank's deft movements.
Frank leans forward, speaking against Gerard's ear. "You're doing so well. You ready for more?"
Gerard doesn't trust himself to speak, so he looks up from the bed at Frank and nods. He can take some more.
"Good." Frank pets him, stroking back his hair. "Really fucking good."
The hand in Gerard's hair slides slowly down his neck, tracing the bumps of vertebrae down his spine, resting right at the base. That warm hand stays there as Frank starts hitting him again. There's a rhythm in how he does it. Five in a row, fairly quick succession and a pause before the next five. The five in quick succession is just borderline what Gerard can handle. The pain builds in his skin, not getting enough time to dissipate, bringing him to an almost-euphoria, until Frank pauses, then it starts again.
"Fifty five. Thank you."
The breaks between successive hits start to get further apart. Around the sixties Frank starts doing ten in a row and Gerard's voice starts hitching as he counts aloud, sometimes speaking on a strike, words choking off in a grunt.
It's almost too much, but there's that singing euphoria that rides on top of the pain, and Gerard can't help the roll of his hips, his untouched cock rock hard and leaking as Frank's hands continue to mete out his exquisite punishment mercilessly.
"Eigh-huh-five. Thank y-." Gerard's numbers are starting to get lost in his breath, buried in the sheets. His voice is pitching higher with his rising tension. His mind keeps counting cleanly, even if his voice can't pronounce it properly anymore.
"One hundred. Thank you." Gerard lets out a long breath, flopping completely forward on the bed, face smushing into the sheets. His ass is burning and hot, his whole body is slick with sweat, hair sticking to his face. Frank's fingers lock around his right wrist, dragging his hand backward, flattening his fingers out over his own ass cheek.
"Feel that." he says with something like wonder. "Feel how hot it is."
It's very fucking warm. Gerard's skin is on fire, tingling and stinging with sensation.
Frank's hands stroke his back, his hair, his cheeks.
"You're doing so well, so fucking well." He pulls Gerard up by the ring in his collar again, kissing his lips, tasting salt and sweat. "You look so fucking sexy like that." He mutters against Gee's lips. "All bent over and just fucking taking it. God your ass is so red." Frank kisses him again, fiercely, stroking his tongue, sucking his lower lip. He snares Gerard's hand again, pressing it to his needy crotch. "Feel it. What you're doing to me. Fuck. You're so hot."
Gerard's smiling against Frank's shoulder as he shapes Frank's cock through his pants, and yeah he is very fucking hard. Gee sighs into Frank's neck, licking and sucking at the skin, wishing they were done already so Frank could fuck him. Oh how he wants the cock that's under his fingers in his ass right now. All he can do is kiss Frank again, teasing him with lips and tongue, borrowing as much time as he can before his punishment resumes.
He whimpers when Frank breaks the kiss, stealing off to rifle through his suitcase.
"Close your eyes." Frank instructs. Gerard does so, listening to Frank zip the case closed and pad back over to the bed. He hears the snap of cap opening and his first thought is it's too soon for lube, but then Frank's hand is heavy between his shoulder blades, folding his body forward onto all fours again. Cool slippery fingers find the cleft of his ass and he can't help but moan as Frank's digits tease at his entrance.
First one, then two fingers find their way into his ass and Gerard's groaning into the mattress with pleasure, hips pushing back against Frank's hands, wanting more. The fingers withdraw and are replaced by something wider, blunter, cool to touch and very hard. Gerard knows immediately what it is. His stainless steel buttplug. He presses back, encouragingly as Frank pushes it in and when it slides into place he lets out a sigh. It's heavy and the weight in his ass feels exquisite.
It's not a cock but it's something and he thinks maybe he's got it in him to get through the next one hundred and fourteen strikes after all.
Frank's hand stays on his ass for a long moment, cool fingers on his warm skin. Gerard sighs at the touch, pressing back into it, feeling the weight of the plug inside him shift as he moves, his cock twitching up toward his belly in response. Frank's hands withdraw and he climbs up onto the bed, sitting back to sit against the headboard.
"Here." Frank commands. "Over my knee."
The instruction sends a little thrill through Gerard. He crawls across the bed, feeling loose and catlike, watching Frank with big eyes. Frank looks like he wants to devour him whole, yanking him forward by his shoulders when he's in reach, kissing him hard.
"You can't help yourself can you? Fucking showoff slut. You just keep putting it out there for everyone to see." Frank mutters against his lips, his hand's gripping Gerard's shoulders so tight it nearly hurts.
"Not for everyone." Gerard whispers hotly. "Just you."
Frank growls and kisses him again, messy, hungry and biting. He releases Gerard's mouth and grabs at his hips, manhandling him into position, pressing hard between Gerard's shoulder blades until he's kneeling over Frank's lap.
Gerard can feel his heartbeat pounding in his temples, blood rushing hot. Frank's fingers touch gently at his ass, palm circling over his hot cheeks and even that light brush re-ignites the sting of his skin. His breath rushes into his lungs, head falling forward to rest between his elbows, chin on Frank's hip. He can smell Frank now, feel his heat. If he lowers his chest he can rest on Frank's crotch, press down on his erection.
Frank doesn't ask if he's ready. He just lays in.
Fifteen in a row this time and Gerard almost shrieks as he counts out.
"One hundred and ten. Thank y-" in the midst of the onslaught. Every strike is forceful now, no more warming up. Each hit sends a little vibration through him, shaking the buttplug in his ass making his cock clench. When Frank pauses after one hundred and fifteen Gerard is panting with effort, sweat beading on his forehead already, unable to stop the moans that rise to his lips.
Another fifteen in quick succession, each one singeing his ass more and that strange cresting wave of pleasure is starting to rise in him again. Gerard's hips are rocking slightly, his ass tensing around the buttplug between strokes. He knows his untouched cock is leaking precome everywhere and he has never felt like this before. He's never had this, this pleasure borne of pain affect him so intensely.
Fifteen more and he's squealing, muffling his voice into the sheets, eyes stinging with tears. In the pause between onslaughts he buries his head in Frank's lap, pressing his face against his clothed erection, breathing him in.
"Frank please..." He's not sure what he's asking for. Frank yanks at his collar, pulling him back into position, delivering fifteen more so hard it burns and Gerard is sure he's choking on his own breath as he forces out his count.
"'Hundred 'n sixty." Gerard's voice is muffled, his face is flattened into the bedspread, wet with saliva, sweat and tears. His ass is burning like Frank hasn't stopped, like he can still feel the ghost of his hands spanking.
Gentle hands stroke Gerard's hair back. Frank's whispering gently to him.
"Fuck baby you're doing so good. I'm so fucking proud of you." Gerard just moans, turning his head sideways to lay on his cheek and look up at Frank, vision blurry. Frank strokes his face gently, his other hand caressing down Gerard's back, resting lightly at the top of Gerard's ass crack. One finger slides between his cheeks, finding the end of the buttplug and wiggling it, making it shift inside Gerard. He bucks up at the sensation, cock afire, strangled moan on his lips.
"You like that don't you?" Frank whispers and Gerard can only moan, ass clenching around the hard metal, hips rocking back against Frank's hand. Frank's other hand leaves Gerard's face, reaching beneath to encircle his cock. Not stroking, just holding him firmly at the base. It stays there, gripping Gerard, as Frank straightens up and draws his other hand back.
When he strikes Gerard feels each impact on his ass but also in his cock, Frank's grip around him not relaxing one bit. He takes fifteen strikes bravely, starting to relax as he mutters out,
"One hundred and seventy-five" but Frank's not done. Five more strikes land before he pauses and Gerard almost forgets to count one hundred and eighty he's so stunned. He just took twenty in a run. He's panting into the bed and Frank's wiggling the plug again, shooting pleasure through him, riding on the euphoria, his blood singing from the pain.
Frank gives Gerard's cock a quick brief stroke, wrenching a moan from the quivering man in his lap. His left hand slides back down Gerard's cock to resume his grip at its base, holding firm. Gerard feels a tug at his chin, Frank's right hand turning his head to face him. Fingers warm from dealing out strikes stroke Gerard's cheek as Frank speaks gently to him,
"You're so close baby. You okay? Can you keep it up?" Gerard can't help staring up at Frank with glazed eyes. His ass is on fire, but so his cock, his whole body. He's in pain, yes, but it's like the ache of his first penetration, it hurts, but it's a doorway to something bigger, more. His whole body is aflame with a kind of euphoria, he feels high on it, like he could take anything.
He nods up at Frank, one side of his mouth curling up in a hesitant smile. The flood of desire and pride on Frank's face is plain and Gerard's whole being sings in response.
Frank's fingers leave his face, drawing back to deal out more smacks, Gerard rolls his head forward, closes his eyes and just gets ready to take it.
Twenty in a row again and he's groaning pretty much constantly now, hands fisted in the sheets, mouth on Frank's thigh, teeth grazing against the fabric of his pants. He can feel the press of Frank's cock in the hollow of his neck as he squirms against him. He's barely able to keep count now, every strike's singeing his ass and his cock simultaneously. It feels like hours between one hundred and eighty and one hundred and ninety nine, but finally,
"Two hundred. Thank you." He wishes that were it. That he'd ended on that nice round number, because he just wants Frank out of those fucking pants and in his ass right now thank you very fucking much. His whole body is just a mass of want and he's starting to wonder if he could come from this because he's never felt so on edge. But he's only got fourteen more and he knows he can take it because shit it's less than twenty and he just took twenty in succession.
He stiffens his back, presses his hands flat to the bed and says,
Frank doesn't hesitate. Fourteen strikes hard and quicker than any of the others have been. Gerard's keening, barely choking out numbers, he doesn't even think Frank can hear them over the smack of his flesh. The heat of his ass feeds the heat of his cock and his hips are rolling and bucking, he’s throwing his head back.
Two hundred and twelve, two hundred and thirteen,
"Two hundred and fourteen!" It's a breathless shout of triumph that could probably be heard in the hallway. Gerard collapses onto the bed breathing heavily, panting, drooling, eyes wet and stinging but not as much as his ass.
"Fuck. Fuck." Gerard can't stop cursing. He rolls onto his side, grasping Frank's hips. His whole body is thrumming with this amazing rush of blood and heat and pain. "Fuck. Fuck. Jesus. Fuck." He claws a hand through his damp hair, looking up at Frank who is just staring at him hotly, like he's about to burst from pride.
Gerard springs to his knees, grabbing Frank's head and kissing him messily and desperately. His hands start grabbing at Frank's clothes, rubbing and groping everything he can touch, trailing wet kisses all over Frank's face and neck. He's so fucking turned on, he's so hot, he just needs... needs.
"Frank... fuck Frank. That was so fucking amazing." He's biting at Frank's neck, rubbing at his cock, for fuck's sake why is he wearing all these clothes? "Are you going to fuck me now? Please... fuck. I need you to fuck me now. I'm so fucking hot." He's rubbing all over Frank like a slut, probably spreading precome all over the expensive black suit and he doesn't even care. He's ready to rip it off Frank himself, fuck permission when suddenly he's on his back, trapped between Frank's legs, wrists captured in Frank's hands and held out to his sides.
He's completely at Frank's mercy and it's just the way he wants it.
"I knew you'd forget." Frank says. His voice is hard now, all the gentleness of earlier lost. Gerard's confused, but still, so hot and god when Frank talks like that it just makes it all worse.
"What- what did I forget?" Gerard pants out, squirming between Frank's thighs because he just can't keep still.
"Do you remember the instructions? How I explained them before we left?" Frank asks, eyes glittering down at him madly, looking so immoveable and wicked and gorgeous.
"It was five..." Gerard's still wiggling under Frank, hips bucking up, searching desperately for some friction. "Five strikes for each compliment."
"Each compliment spoken to you." Frank says strongly and plainly. It takes a moment for Gerard to remember but when it hits him his jaw drops, eyes popping, heartbeat so fast he might pass out.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck-fuck-fuck. He forgot. He forgot that Frank was keeping his own count. Every time someone made a comment about Gerard to Frank, it counted too, and it was multiplied more... it was...
"Ten. Oh fuck. It was ten wasn't it? For each of yours?" Frank nods, face breaking in the most wicked of grins and Gerard is delirious. If his hands weren't trapped he'd be covering his face and screaming.
"Jesus Frank how many? How many?" Gerard demands desperately, not even caring how un-submissive he's being.
"Four." Frank's still smiling, the fucking bastard. He lowers his body onto Gee's licking his jaw before adding, "Do you want to know who they were?"
But Gerard doesn’t care who. All he can think is forty. Forty more. He’s caught between desire and sheer panic. Frank's body pressing down on his, his burning ass against the cool sheets, press of Frank's cock against his, rough fabric of his pants between them. He's rubbing up against Frank without even realising it, even as him mind is just freaking out.
Mercy. Mercy. Mercy.
Their safeword is screaming through his head. It's time, isn't it? Time to say it. Time for this to be over. He can't take forty more, he just can't.
But Frank must think he can. He wouldn't be doing this otherwise. Jesus, Gerard didn't even think he could do two hundred and fourteen and he has and he fucking liked it.
Fuck it. Fuck it. He's not going to say it. He's going to do this.
Gerard grabs Frank's head, pulls it down to his, ravages it with a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and fire and want. He's grabbing at Frank's clothes, unbuttoning, unbuckling, fuck permission.
"You're gonna fuck me after, right Frank? As soon as you're finished you're gonna fuck me like you promised yeah?" Gerard's demanding as he peels Frank's shirt off. Frank's helping him, shoving his own pants down and kicking them off, the sudden sensation of skin against skin so enormously sensuous that they're trapped for a long moment, just rubbing on each other, all attention caught in that sensation.
Frank breaks it, tearing his mouth from Gerard's with a sigh. He doesn't bother answering Gerard's question, just a grabs a condom from the bedside and tears it open. Gerard rolls it on, kissing him as he does, panting, breathless, hovering on the edge of panic.
Snap of a cap opening and Frank pours some lube onto Gerard's palm. Gerard spreads it over Frank's cock, stroking firmly and Frank can't contain a moan of pleasure at the touch, the first proper touch he's had since he got back. He slides his hands down Gerard's back, resting them over the hot skin of his spanked-red ass, letting himself enjoy it just for a moment.
Then he grabs Gerard's hands at the wrists at places them on the bed, manoeuvring them into position so Gerard's bent over his lap, ass in the air.
He feathers his right hand over Gerard's ass. Gerard's trembling, panting but holding strong in his position. He glances up at Frank and Frank catches his chin with his free hand, running a thumb over his lip, Gerard's tongue darting out to lick it.
"You fucking slut. I love you." Frank's voice is throaty and bursting with pride.
Gerard turns his face to the bed, straightens his back. Ready.
"I'm going to give you all forty straight up. I'm not gonna stop."
Gerard's breath hitches at this but he nods into the mattress.
"You don't have to count." Frank's hand grabs Gerard's right wrist, drawing it down, wrapping Gerard's fingers around his own cock. "But you can touch. You got that?" Gerard just moans, gripping himself. His hand is still slippery with lube, he starts jacking his cock slowly and it feels amazing.
Frank doesn't wait. He starts spanking Gerard's ass straight away, setting a punishing rhythm as he does. Left, right, left, right. The pain in Gerard's ass cheeks re-ignites like someone poking a dying fire. He's moaning pretty much non-stop now, voice muffled into the bed. He's not counting, so he has no idea how many he's taken or how many there is to come but at this moment he doesn't care. He's bucking into his hand, his ass is full of metal and Frank's hand is spiking pleasure-pain into his body with every strike.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He starts cursing into the bed with every strike, pulling on his cock in time with Frank's spanks and it's just insane. The roll of euphoria is back and he can't tell if it's from the pain of the spanking or the pleasure of his jerking hand. He doesn't care he just rides it, swearing turning to moaning turning to keening and then his balls draw up and his grip tightens and fuck. FUCK. FUCKING HELL. He's coming like a fucking lightning bolt, spurting out onto the sheets, the most intense wallop of orgasm knocking him flat and he's shouting way too loud and he doesn't fucking give a shit.
He has no idea if he got to forty, but Frank's stopped hitting him, letting him lie there face planted and drooling, his whole body flooded with bliss and heat and his ass is burning, stinging like a motherfucker.
"Jesus christ." Frank sounds blown away.
"Fuck Frank. That was..." Gerard rolls his head to the side to see his lover looking down on him, flushed and so totally horny. "That just was. Fuck." Gee's not making much sense but he figures he's entitled. He probably melted part of his brain.
Frank's hand is on his ass again, slipping between his cheeks to tug at the butt plug. It pops out and Gerard sighs, not really ready to think any further forward than that.
Frank slides out from under him, pressing Gerard onto his back, climbing onto him with an urgency fuelled by desire.
"Fuck Gee, you were amazing. I knew you could do it. I fucking knew it." Frank's dropping kisses all over his face and neck, rutting against him like a desperate teenager, hands everywhere. "Jesus Gee..."
Frank’s pushing his legs back and Gerard lets him, still boneless from orgasm but zinging with aftershocks. The blunt head of Frank's cock is pressing at his opening and Gerard pushes down on it, letting it fill him, clutching Frank's shoulders. Frank sets a punishing pace, thrusting hard and fast, much like way he delivered his blows. He leans over Gerard on one elbow, his other arm low, his hand gripping one of Gerard's burning ass cheeks as he rides him.
He doesn't last long. He can't. He's been on edge all night and he nearly came just watching Gee get off. He bucks into Gerard and Gerard can feel it when he explodes, pulsing inside him. Frank's shout of completion is loud by Gerard’s ear as collapses on top of him, winded and panting into his neck.
"Fucking hell. Fucking hell." Frank's muttering. He pulls up onto his elbows to look down at Gerard. Gerard's still spacey from his orgasm, but as his body slowly calms and his blood cools he can feel the sting in his ass remaining. It isn't going to fade so quickly.
Frank brushes Gerard's hair back from his face, sliding fingers down his cheek. He's out of breath, flushed, his hair is everywhere and Gerard's not sure if he's ever seen him look more sexy.
"You're amazing." Frank whispers. Kisses him softly and Gerard can feel him smiling against his lips, pulling his own mouth into a grin. "Fucking amazing." Frank mutters, then collapses onto him again, rolling them to the side in full body hug. Gerard clutches his arms around Frank, rests his head on Frank's shoulder and just relaxes. Frank's caressing his back, petting him like a cat and if he was one he'd be purring right now, he's so content.
They don't even make it under the covers before they fall asleep.
"Do you think it'll bruise?" Gerard asks, voice a shout from the bathroom.
He's dragged a chair in there and is standing on it buck naked, bent forward at the waist, head twisted back to look over his shoulder, studying his ass in the mirror above the sink.
Frank pokes his head in the doorway. It takes him a minute to get over seeing Gerard like that and he has to remind himself very firmly that they are due downstairs in exactly five minutes and Brian will have them on a very short leash after last night's antics. Fucking Gerard over the bathroom sink right now is a very bad idea.
"Probably." Frank states. He sort of likes the idea of Gerard carrying his mark like that. Even if it will fade.
Gerard turns from the mirror to look at Frank, grinning like a maniac.
Frank rolls his eyes but can't help smiling back. He turns around very deliberately and heads back into the bedroom to finish packing.
"Get dressed you moron, we're gonna be late!" He calls over his shoulder.
Frank's nearly done packing when Gerard emerges from the bathroom. He's dressed, thankfully.
"Can I help?" He asks when he notices Frank crawling across the floor, peering under the bed. "What are you looking for?"
"Your fucking buttplug. I can't find it." Frank sounds flustered and more than a little annoyed. "I don't want anyone else finding it either." He growls, flicking the dangling bits of bedspread up and looking behind them.
"Oh that." Gerard giggles in a way that makes Frank look up. Gerard pulls him to his feet and shoves him towards the door.
"Don't worry it's not lost." Gerard says on another giggle.
Frank turns back to see mischief on Gerard's face. He packed Gerard's suitcase himself while he was a being a diva in the bathroom so he knows it's not in there. Gerard must have it on him.
Or in him.
"You fucking slut." Frank grabs him close, kissing him hard. He just can't stop grinning.
"You love it." Gerard counters, arching an eyebrow at him and flouncing out the door.
He's right. Frank does. He really fucking does.