Bars were gross. He mostly went to the shows to see the bands.
Frank breathed music, he felt it in his heart and lungs and every inch of his body. He loved losing himself inside mosh pits and he loved the bruises that littered his skin after. He loved the way he felt like his entire body was in sync with the music. The alcohol was, of course, an added bonus.
Pocketing his fake I.D., Frank made his way through the crowd. Once he gained his third bottle of beer, he was swaying in a way that should be embarrassing, especially since he only had two drinks beforehand, but it didn't matter when he was able to disappear into the crowd and dance and grind like his life depended on it. A local band was on the small stage, loud and reckless, guitarists flinging their bodies and instruments as the lead singer sauntered around on stage. All eyes were glued on her as she went down on her knees and thrashed around to the rhythm her bandmates created.
Frank lost himself in the feel of hips grinding against him, his lidded eyes fixated on a girl's chest.
"Nice," he said in her ear, clumsy pressing his fingers against the rad skull and roses tattoo chestpiece stretched across her cleavage. It took him a moment to realize how shifty that action would be, but she laughed loudly anyway, swatting his arm as she thanked him by shoving her tongue down his throat.
Frank loved bars.
A few songs later and Frank found his way back to the bar, ordering himself water before he fainted or something equally dramatic--and one last beer. He chugged the water, almost moaning at how cold and delicious it tasted on his dried tastebuds. Water was fucking awesome like that.
Frank sipped his beer as one of the band's popular songs began to play. Soon the crowd around the bar began disappearing back over to the floor. The energy in the place was crazy--the band was on fire, the fans were up front, trying desperately to touch the singer's hand with their cell phones held high. Bar regulars were off to the side, sipping drinks and swaying to the music that they were familiar with. The pit was alive and wild, full of fans and punks, metalheads and school kids, all together and united as they pushed and shoved. Some kids rocked and shoved to the beat, their bodies feeling the rhythm in their skin and flesh while others danced, bodies close and swaying recklessly.
There was one person who stood out and alone from the kids shoving, people-watching like Frank though he was without a drink. His hair was red, like full-on neon, fresh blood and roses and purposely messy. He wore a black leather jacket with an Iron Maiden shirt underneath, so faded that Frank could barely see Eddie on it. His jeans were tight--like full-on plastered to his skin--and a light grey like they faded after too many washes. Maybe from too many nights in a bar, listening and watching.
Combat boots that cut off mid-calf were suddenly heading towards Frank and he panicked for a moment, wondering if he could run and hide from the man who was now stood in front of him. Though the noise of the bar was too loud for the footsteps to be heard, Frank swore that he felt them vibrate through him.
Frank licked his lips and tried to look away, but the man was prettier up close and Frank found it impossible to avert his eyes. Androgynous, he thought, taking in the wide eyes and babydoll lashes, upturned nose and crooked smirk. He was straight from the filthiest of Frank's wet dreams, like a sexed-up Rock God from the depths of Hell, sent to corrupt him.
Frank was seventeen and had never felt so turned on before, not to this extent. There were the drunk hookups, and the porn marathons when he was home alone, but then there was this. One quick glance of the red-haired man was enough to get him ridiculously and embarrassingly hard, his cheeks flushed and burning.
He was so close to the seventeen year old. His hand rested on Frank's hip as he squeezed in between the teen and a drunk on his left. "Excuse me, kitten," he whispered lowly into Frank's ear. Then he leaned over and talked to the bartender as if it never happened. Frank couldn't breathe, couldn't move and he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a dream. The only thing that convinced him was the pale fingers that still rested on his hip bone.
It felt like years before the stranger took his hand off Frank's hip and left with his drink.
"Fuck," breathed Frank, watching as the bright hair disappeared from his vision, disappearing into the crowd. When he turned back around, the bartender laughed at his expression.
"Yeah," he said, wiping down the bar like a goddamn cliché, "Gerard has that effect on people."
Gerard. Frank loved the name. It definitely suited the stranger, uncommon and pretty and kind of sexual. He couldn’t help but picture him sprawled on a bed, all lidded eyes and red hair fanned on the pillow. Or--shit--Gerard shoving him onto a table, hands on his hips and hitting Frank deep with a night of debauchery and rough sex. Frank wondered if he could get away with passing as a legal adult. The ripped jeans and dirty t-shirt probably only aided to his twelve year old appearance.
The drunk decided to take the opportunity to buy him a round of shots, and Frank wasn't one to refuse free alcohol, so long as he watched it carefully. After that and a little more people-watching, Frank found his way into the crowd on the floor, getting sweaty and dirty and bruised even more. Eventually, the alcohol made it’s way through his system and he found himself walking towards the washrooms before he realized he'd even left the crowd. Maybe too much alcohol--Frank knew he was a lightweight but still did shots at the bar.
He ended up nearly falling over as he pissed, at which point he decided to stop with impromptu trips to the bar. After washing his hands--twice, because public washrooms were disgusting--Frank debated on heading home early. He couldn’t get the stranger--Gerard--out of his head. He couldn’t help but imagine how he’d look, fucked out and covered with sweat, and Frank wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck Gerard or have him dominate his entire being. The mental images were enough to get his dick interested and he sighed, examining himself in the mirror instead.
He was sure he could at least pass for nineteen, if he squinted or scowled. His smile alone was enough to set back his age by seven years. His jeans were ripped in the knees like a kid, but at least his Black Flag shirt balanced it out. Frank wished he had a leather jacket, but he figured his dual-toned hair was punk enough to amp up the age. His height was something that couldn't be helped, unfortunately.
"See something you don't like?"
Frank pivoted around, finding himself facing Gerard, who was leaning against the wall, smoking and ruffling his hair in a way that was deliberate--for show.
His first reaction was to flee, run out of the bathroom as if his thoughts were displayed on his face. Instead, in what was surely encourage by the alcohol, he leaned against the sink, almost mimicking the red-haired man that stood before him. "Do you?" He said boldly. What are you doing?, he asked himself. It had to be the alcohol.
Gerard shook his head, contrary to what Frank believed would happen. Gerard kept his nonchalant composure at the gesture, hand in front of his face holding his smoke as he stared at Frank, eyeing every inch of him, making Frank wonder if his lust-filled attraction wasn't just one-sided.
It was when Gerard walked over to Frank, hips swaying, did he begin to panic. It hit him at once how ridiculous and cliche it was--he was nothing but a teen who managed to deciet his way into a bar just to check out the local talent. Did he want sex? Yes. Did he want sex with the red-headed sexual deviant that stood before him? Yes.
His head was swimming. Under the florescent lights, Gerard was pale and beautiful, eyes hidden in shadow and tongue licking his lips before he took another drag of the cigarette. Frank's body throbbed with a continuous hit of wantwantwant, and all previous doubts forgotten.
In a brave move that he would happily blame on the alcohol clouding his brain, Frank plucked the smoke from Gerard's fingers and slowly brought the stick to his mouth, inhaling deeply while gauging Gerard's reaction.
Gerard narrowed his eyes, but smirked playfully, grabbing Frank's hand and stubbing out the remains of the butt onto the dirty sink. "You're being naughty."
Shit. Frank's heart was being wildly and he felt his cock twitch at the words. Gerard definitely wanted him, maybe not as bad as Frank wanted him, but enough to give Frank a hit of adrenaline. Instead of replying with something embarrassingly or cliche, Frank opened his mouth, smoke trickling into the air as he pressed his lips to Gerard's.
Gerard's hands are immediately in his hair, getting tangled and pulling perfectly but Frank didn't notice, not when he was light-headed from the lack of oxygen and Gerard was sucking the smoke from his lungs like a vampire craving blood.
Frank pulled back to suck in a quick breath, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at the man. He could see it--the arousal in his eyes, the definite eye-fucking, lips wet with saliva. He breathed out smoke and Frank was attacking him again, biting Gerard's lips and hands clutching his arms when he licked into Frank's mouth.
Frank was ready, so ready. He wanted to be on his knees of the dirty bathroom floor, Gerard leaning against a stall as he fucked Frank's face. But the door swung open and a swarm of sweaty drunk men pooled in, the show over and the bar back to generic radio music.
"Let's go," said Gerard, tugging on his arm and leading him out of the bathroom. "Do you want to, baby?"
Gerard shoved him up against the wall, hands planted firmly on Frank's hips, tongue trailing down his neck and making Frank press against him harder.
"Fuck," he said, stomach clenching when Gerard's hands pushed his shirt up, fingers dancing along his stomach and chest. He knew that even a few minutes of that would send him over--he was too gone. From the impromptu makeup session outside the bar to groping as they hunted for the nearest motel, he was painfully hard and still trapped inside his jeans.
He wondered how Gerard felt. His pants, jeans, whatever the fuck were skin-tight, like in-need-of-a-leg-amputation-soon and stretched around the massive bulge obscenely. He acted like he didn't notice or care as he pulled Frank's shirt off his body, immediately going to his belt.
Gerard pressed a quick kiss to his cheek then trailed along his jaw. "What do you want, baby?" He asked filthily, making Frank thump his head against the wall. Any little composure he had was gone. Gerard's fingers never ceased, tearing into Frank's clothing and shoving his jeans and boxers down to his knees quickly.
Frank couldn't talk, he could barely breathe. He felt his stomach muscles tighten in anticipation as Gerard stared at him, eyes raking over his body slowly as he slid Frank's shirt from his body.
Their eyes met, and Frank remembered that Gerard asked a question. "Everything," he whispered, voice too soft and intimate and he blushed. Gerard would definitely see his true age through that.
"Alright, kitten," replied Gerard, the tiniest of smiles placed on his lips. His hand reached behind Frank's head and pulled him in, lips pressing against his hungrily. Frank immediately deepened it, lips parting for Gerard's tongue. He fisted a hand in his hair and the other one his ass, pulling him close and it took him a few seconds to realize he was thrusting up against Gerard, moaning into the other man's mouth.
When Gerard finally wrapped his hand around his cock, Frank had to pull away and groan loudly because fuck, it had been way too long. Soft, teenage girl hands were nothing compared to the feel of rough, callused and experienced hands. Frank vaguely recalled digging his fingernails into Gerard's back and swell of his ass--too focused on the feel of Gerard's hand.
"Fuck," he groaned, realizing he wouldn't last--he couldn't. Not with Gerard in front of him, looking like a punk rock god, ready for corruption and sin and all kinds of dirty things.
Gerard's lips trailed down his jaw and neck, lapping at the sweat on his skin and biting down on his pulse point. Frank squirmed when Gerard reached his stomach and whined when he pulled back, looking up at him.
"Don't move and don't touch," he said, hands pinning Frank against the wall, "Unless I tell you to."
Frank bit his lip and pressed his hips firmly against the wall. Gerard looked surprised he complied, but Frank was worried of the word that was on the tip of his tongue, threatening to bubble up from his throat like word vomit.
Maybe it stemmed from his parents divorce or he wanted to be taken care of, or maybe Gerard brought it out of him in the same way it made him submissive. Frank never had a fixation with the word until that very moment. It felt appropriate and dirty, sinful and wrong and everything that Gerard seemed to be. Like a lust-filled demon.
Gerard took his right-hand from Frank's hip and wasted no time in grasping Frank's cock, hand smearing pre-cum all over. Frank heavily banged his head against the wall again, biting down too hard on his lip. Gerard laughed, softly, but cut himself short when took he Frank into his mouth.
"Fuck," Frank breathed, voice embarrassingly high. Gerard's mouth was wet and warm, licking along the vein as his lips touched his fingers. Frank wanted to tangle his fingers into the red hair and thrust into his mouth. He wanted ask, no, beg, to use him like that. He wanted to use the d-word. Fuck, he was so gone and so very, very still. He made sure to bite down on his lip again, knowing his mouth would betray him eventually.
Gerard didn't seem to like that. He pulled off with an obscene pop, hand still moving on Frank's cock. "You're holding something back, baby."
Frank started to shake his head but stopped himself in time. He was supposed to stay still. "I… I'm not." It was an obvious lie, because of course he was, he was being quiet.
Holding eye contact, Gerard teasingly licked the head of his cock. His expression was neutral but Frank had a feeling that he was smirking on the inside, like this was a game. Like he knew what Frank was about to spill.
"Baby," Gerard started, slowly getting up from his knees, "I can't help you unless you tell me."
He knew. That, or he was really into pet names. Maybe both. Frank squirmed at the name, feeling his cock twitch. He was so, so close and nothing happened yet. His body felt like it was on fire, stomach clenching and unclenching as Gerard jerked him slower and slower. The entire night felt surreal. He wondered if he was dreaming.
Gerard stood up and pressed up against him, still fully clothed. "I think you like being told what to do," he started, hand slowing on Frank's cock and drawing a whine from him. Gerard's voice was soft and so fucking filthy, Frank was sure he was going to come at any moment. "If I told you to go down on your knees, you would." Gerard raised his left hand and softly caressed Frank's cheek to his neck, earning a shiver from him.
"Yeah," Frank breathed, his fingernails digging into his palms. He would in a heartbeat.
"Say it," Gerard commanded, fingers running through his hair like he was petting. "What do you want, baby?"
Frank whimpered at the name, hips jerking forward. He wanted Gerard to jerk him off, to never stop but he wanted more. He wanted everything. "Fuck me," he whispered, eyes closing, "Please." He bit his lip, knowing exactly what he wanted and he felt it, deep in his gut, that Gerard wanted it too.
He exhaled shakily, trying not to think about it but then Gerard's fingers tightened around his cock, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine and the word tore out of his throat like fucking vomit. "Daddy, please."
Frank felt ridiculously turned on yet exposed, cock leaking precum as he body filled with shame. It didn't last long because Gerard was kissing him, open-mouthed and dirty and Frank could feel the smirk on his face.
Gerard pulled Frank by the hips over to the motel bed, setting him onto his stomach, head twisting to the side so he can breathe shaky breaths. He felt Gerard spreading apart his legs, arms pressed against thighs as Gerard pressed himself down on the bed.
And then Gerard's tongue was in Frank's ass.
Frank whined, high pitched and embarrassing, Gerard's tongue exploring inside of him, fingers pulling his cheeks apart so he can get deeper. Frank was never one for this, for rimjobs or hookups in motels, and if he thought about the whole picture it almost seemed ridiculous. But then Gerard would do something with his tongue and Frank would push back into his mouth, thoughts forgotten.
He felt the spit dripping down onto his balls, the thrusts of tongue and fingers digging into his flesh. Frank moved his arms to pillow his head, facing down and moaning loudly as thrust against the bed and Gerard's mouth.
"I... wait," he said, stopping his movements, "I'm gonna..."
"Yeah?" said Gerard, and his voice sounded soft and light, like he was talking to a child. It made Frank whine. "Does kitten want my cock?"
"Please," he begged, passed the point of caring how desperate he sounded, how he couldn't help but shift his hips against Gerard's fingers, slow and teasing against his hole.
The prep was quick, thanks to Gerard's skilled tongue. It felt like much too long before Frank heard the condom wrapper and the small growl that escaped Gerard's lips as he rolled it on, before uncapping the small bottle of lube. Frank's legs were tense but Gerard still managed to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him up, bending his legs so his ass was in the air--on display.
He felt dirty and ridiculously turned on, squirming just from the feel of the position. Frank was panting heavily into his arm as Gerard finally pushed inside him, the stretch intense, fiery and way too fucking good. The few times in which he did have sex were awkward and more painful than pleasure. Nothing would ever compare to the feel Gerard's slow thrust and the almost-caring way he held Frank at that very moment.
Gerard leaned forward, kissing Frank's shoulder blades softly before biting down on his neck. "You good, kitten?"
Frank nodded, not entirely sure that he was but too impatient to wait any longer. Hesitantly, he lifted his head enough to look at Gerard, who was waiting for verbal confirmation. "Yes, daddy."
The corner of his lip curled up in a stupid-cute smirk before he shuffled back, upright on his knees with an arm still wrapped around Frank. His hips pulled back, to where it was just the tip inside of Frank's ass before he slammed forward, pushing Frank and the entire fucking bed.
"Fuck," groaned Frank because yeah, he needed this. It burned in the best way possible. He weakly pushed his own hips back, every part of his body shaking. Gerard set a rough pace, thrusting so fast and deep that Frank couldn't stop mewling, all high-pitched and whiny.
Gerard's arm left Frank's waist and the other disappeared from his line of vision where it was holding the bed for balance, firmly grabbing onto Frank's hips instead. Gerard pulled him up higher, angling himself and hitting Frank's prostate dead-fucking-on.
A deep, filthy moan spilled from his lips, throaty and raw. "Please," Frank found himself begging, needing to be touched. He wanted Gerard's hand on his dick again, jacking him off hard and fast, near the verge of painful.
"Please what, baby?" Gerard asked, voice low and innocent and so fucking dirty that Frank knew he couldn't last much longer, regardless of touch or not.
"Please, please please," Frank whined, cock throbbing almost painfully. His hands curled into tight fists as he consciously struggled to not break the rule--no touching. "Daddy." The word ripped from his throat, burning and gagging him with shame and want.
The corner of Gerard's lip lifted, the smirk driving Frank insane. He felt every thrust, deep and hard, driving him insane and hitting his prostate every single thrust.
Gerard stopped, slowly pulling out and flipping Frank over quickly, his back hitting the bed before Gerard was on top of him. When Gerard's cock filled him again, Frank was whining and sobbing with pleasure. It was too much and his body jerked with every single hit to his prostate.
Frank cried out, almost a whine, while Gerard pressed his mouth to his neck, kissing and sucking along his jaw, whispering dirty things into his ear with promises of next time. Of Frank buried inside of him, of Frank sucking his cock and exploring every inch of him with his tongue. It only took a few quick jerks of Gerard's hand to have Frank gone.
He came with a long, silent moan and he felt himself clutching around Gerard's cock. He thrusted into the pale palm, riding it out before collapsing onto the bed. He couldn't see or hear, his heartbeat loud in his ears and his vision clouded over. He couldn't fucking move.
Gerard was pressing sweet, tender kisses along the back of his neck as he slowly pulled out and Frank rolled over, sated and boneless.
"Come on my face."
Gerard groaned, eyes fluttering closed briefly before fixating on Frank's lips. "Kitten's kinky."
"Kitten wants his milk."
With a small laugh, Gerard shifted, crawling over Frank until his cock was lightly touching Frank's lips. He parted them immediately and was rewarded with Gerard petting his face softly. "Such a good boy."
Gerard shifted his hips forward, enough for Frank to get a taste before rubbing his cock along Frank's chin and jaw, leaving a sticky trail in it's wake.
"Such pretty eyes," Gerard commented, the tip of his cock softly pressing against Frank's mouth. "Such a pretty mouth."
Frank opened his mouth wider, wanting it, needing it and Gerard complied. His cock was thick, almost too much and Frank choked. Gerard pulled back and Frank was quick to dig his fingers into Gerard's ass, pulling him closer.
"No no, please," he cried, deliriously desperate. "Kitten wants his treat. Kitten wants daddy's cock. Please."
"Fuck." Gerard was biting his lip and holding his cock, looking down at Frank intensely. "Yeah."
Gerard shifted closer and Frank sucked him greedily, moaning at the taste and feel. Gerard hit the back of his throat and Frank gagged, but he clutched at Gerard's ass, telling him it was okay. They set a rhythm, quick and ruthless. Tears ran down Frank's cheeks and he couldn't breathe but he wanted more, he wanted the dizziness from the lack of breath and he wanted the pain and sore throat. He didn't want to be able to speak for fucking weeks.
"Oh, shiiit," groaned Gerard and then his cock was gone and Gerard's hand was on it, jerking quick until he came across Frank's lips and chin. "Fuck. Fuck."
Getting off Frank, Gerard laid down beside him and pulled him in for a kiss, come mixing with saliva in a way that really could get Frank going again.
But he was tired, and soon fell asleep.
Frank had woken up to an empty bed, but there was breakfast on the side table and a cup of coffee beside it. He looked around the room, noting that his clothes were folded nicely on the dresser and that the room was void of Gerard's things. He sighed, sitting up to dig into the food but quickly noted that written on the side of the cup, was a date set for a week later and the street address to the bar.