The moment he gets back to their hotel room Mikey’s on him. Gerard is expecting Mikey’s impatience. They got interrupted this morning and they haven’t had a chance all day to do as much as make out. He’s sure Mikey's been looking forward to their hotel time, he know he's been. Gerard's envisioning a night of sex; foreplay lasting over the first three or four orgasms. He just needs to get undressed so they can start.
Gerard shucks off his jacket, not caring where it falls, and tries to step on the heels of his shoes to kick them off. Mikey crosses the room in an instant and shoves him against the slowly closing door. The door moves under their combined weight, closing with a heavy thud and a click of the automatic lock. Gerard’s off balance, sneakers half off with his whole weight just on the balls of his feet, back pressed against the wood as Mikey’s pressed against his front. He won’t fall, but he’s completely out of control.
Gerard attempts to shove his brother off him, just for a second, so he can try to position himself better. It doesn’t work, Mikey won’t move from where he’s rutting against him. Next he tries to cram his feet back in his shoes. He succeeds with his left foot, his right heel only crushes the back of his right shoe. He shuffles back a bit towards the door, until the heavy steel L shaped handle is poking him. Mikey follows every minute movement, never letting him escape the pressure of his body. Gerard’s aroused but slightly paranoid. Mikey’s never been this frantic before. It can’t just be the interrupted morning blowjob, that’s happened enough that they’re nearly used to it.
He’s about to ask when Mikey opens the button on his jeans with one impressively dexterous hand. He doesn't push the jeans or his underwear down, just shoves his hand down the front. The cotton forces Mikey’s hand close, there's almost not enough room to jerk him. With his brother's hand curled around him nothing else really matters to Gerard.
As it turns out, he doesn’t need to ask. He figures it out for himself when he hears the bathroom door knob rattle. Gerard’s stomach sinks as the bathroom door opens and Pete walks out. They exchange looks for a second before Pete grins. “That’s really hot. You should keep doing that.”
Gerard doesn’t take Pete’s advice. He’s firmly set in his belief that anyone that would take advice from Pete Wentz is crazy. Instead he grabs Mikey's wrist, thin but strong and removes his brother’s hand. It's harder to pull away, Mikey's still got his crowded, but he manages a short of sideways shuffle. He doesn’t bother to zip up his pants, just tugs his black shirt down over his dick. With every concert it’s gotten more stretched out, so it’s an easy task.
“Mikey. What the fuck?”
“It’s not like he didn’t already know.” Gerard knows that, he knows at least fifty percent of Mikey’s texts after one am are to Pete. It still doesn’t explain Pete being in their hotel room. “He just wanted to see.”
Pete seems to sense Gerard’s discomfort. “Dude. Come on, Gerard. How would you like it if someone gave you dirty details about sex for five years and never sent even one photo? It’s not like I asked him to be all Myspace whore about it, I only ever wanted one. But he always said it would be all or nothing. I guess 'all' opened up a position, probably right about when you started pretending to jerk him off on stage. Lucky me, huh.”
On one hand, Pete Wentz is hardly his favourite person. On the other Gerard wants Mikey to be happy. And even he has to admit five years of cock teasing is a bit much. With an inward sigh Gerard shrugs and says “Yeah. Lucky all of us, really.”
Pete stops leaning against the door frame of the bathroom; stands straight then crosses the room. He grabs an apple from the bar and takes a bite before Gerard can stop him. It’s not like they can’t afford it, it just galls him to be charged a dollar fifty for a single piece of fruit. It’s either call Pete an asshole or distract himself. If he picks the first Pete might decide to be sensitive and leave and Mikey will be pissy. So before he can give in to the strong temptation of option one he kisses Pete. It’s the slightest bit disgusting when Pete sticks his tongue in Gerard’s mouth and there are still chunks of apple present, but on the whole it’s not that bad. It’s not like it’s the least sanitary thing Gerard’s done. His record is eighteen days without washing his hair. Pete’s probably not even giving it a second thought. Considering he plays piss roulette, what might or might not be in his mouth probably doesn't concern him.
Gerard doesn’t stop until Pete pushes at his shoulders. “Kiss Mikey.”
He wasn’t expecting to have this be a following orders thing -wasn't expecting it all, but he can improv with the best of them- and if it was a messed up order he would tell Pete to fuck off, no question about it. But it’s not like it’s something Gerard doesn’t want to do. Mikey’s still near the door to the hallway, watching them with a look inscrutable even to him. Gerard reaches out and Mikey grabs his hand to let Gerard pull him closer. He loves the way Mikey’s mouth feels, always has. He wonders if Mikey can taste the apple on him, if the flavour transferred from Pete.
By the time he’s grinding against Mikey, his brother’s hands on the waistband of his slowly sinking pants, Pete’s groaning. Gerard breaks the kiss to look over. Pete’s sitting on the corner of the unused bed. The hideous cover is bunched in one clenched hand. His other hand busy with slow strokes, more tantalizing than result driven.
Gerard pulls away from Mikey completely. He doesn't worry about hitching up his pants for the five step walk to the bed. They're tight enough to basically stay up, and stiffened with night after night of sweat. Standing at the edge of the mattress, knees against mint floral, he grins and runs his hand through Pete’s bangs. His hair isn’t as fantastically grippable as Mikey’s new style is, but it’s softer and more recently washed. “I’m going to suck you dry.”
Before he has a chance to drop to his knees Pete catches him with hands on his hips. “Not that I don’t want your mouth on my dick, because it really looks like you’d be good at it. But I really want to see you do Mikey. Okay?”
Gerard shrugs. It’s hardly a hardship, and if Pete would rather watch him with Mikey than get off himself who’s he to argue? He kicks off his pants and throws them in the direction of his suitcase. If they don't land there they'll land somewhere else, it doesn't really matter. With his insistence Mikey’s come off a minute later, tossed in the same heap. Gerard keeps his black wifebeater on but Mikey’s tiger print shirt lands somewhere around the bed. Mikey gets heated when he gets turned on, skin blush-pink and burning. More than once Gerard's had to get a cold facecloth. The less clothes he’s wearing the better. Not that that’s not true on any occasion.
It’s kind of strange sucking someone off while someone is watching. Aside from fangirls on the internet no one has ever really been curious about Gerard’s sex life. He never had a threesome in SVA, or in the early days of touring with a few bar girls, before he and Mikey had their epiphany. He would have thought that voyeurism would be uncomfortable. Like being on stage at a moment when he’s supposed to have privacy. It’s not uncomfortable at all. If anything it makes it better. Having Pete stare as he slips his mouth over the head of Mikey’s cock like he’s doing the best thing in the world makes the entire act seem far more alluring and exotic.
Gerard pulls off once. In part to catch a full breath instead of another thin inhale through his nose, but primarily to see how Pete and Mikey are reacting. He’s always heard that with threesomes you have to be careful that everyone is equally happy, or it can go to shit in seconds. It doesn’t look like it’s something he’ll have to worry about. When Gerard’s mouth leaves him, Mikey makes a low pitched whine. Looking up reveals a bitten lip. It's a raw red, even against his obscenely flushed face. Gerard arches his back to see Pete next. The bassist is clawing a hole into the bedspread as he jerks off, hips thrusting nearly off the bed so he can fuck into his hand.
“Fucking don’t stop!” Pete exclaims. Maybe it’s not so crazy to take Wentzian advice. Gerard licks his lips wet and takes Mikey’s cock as deep as he can. As long as he has a breakfast of honey, his throat should be fine for tomorrow night. Mikey's got a weakness for deepthroating that Gerard has no problem exploiting. Nearly instantly after Mikey bottoms out he comes. Gerard takes everything Mikey has to give, and smiles when he pulls off. It's an I love you, and Mikey's returning flash of teeth is the same.
“Gerard, you don’t spit? Fucking, that’s the fucking hottest shit ever.” Now he almost has to feel sorry for Pete, if that's the kind of action he's used to. At the very least he can give him one good experience.
Gerard crawls the few steps to the bed and takes the head of Pete’s cock, Pete’s fingers curled tightly around the base. As he sinks down his hand relocates to his shoulder. He relaxes his jaw and lets Pete fuck his mouth, cock slippery against Mikey’s come. Pete’s gaze keeps darting between Gerard and some point behind him, which he can only imagine is his brother. It doesn’t take long for Pete to come. The moment he finishes Gerard raises to grab Pete by the hair and force the come still in his cheeks into Pete’s mouth. Pete shudders as he licks around Gerard’s mouth.
Once Pete has him clean he joins Mikey on the messy bed. It’s a few jerks before Gerard’s shooting off, a little on the sheets, a little on his shirt, mostly on Mikey’s hand. He sighs and rolls onto his side so he can curl into his brother as Mikey wipes his hand on one of the extra pillows they requested from guest services.
“That? Was so worth five years.” Gerard doesn’t sit up to look at Pete, but it sounds like he’s grining. Gerard grins back, even though Pete won’t be able to see it. Mikey can, and he’ll text Pete about it later. That’s enough.