Frank feels so full. So incredibly and overwhelmingly full.
The toy isn’t that big. At least, it didn't look that big when they took it out of the box. Jamia had wrapped her hand around the base and said "It's about the same size as you", a thoughtful smile playing on her lips. Frank hadn't argued the observation, he'd just swallowed an embarrassing noise and felt the blood drain from his head to his dick. Because fingers are one thing - his own, thick and rough with calluses, or Jamia's, smaller and soft with carefully trimmed nails. He likes fingers. Fingers can feel amazing when they curl the right way.
But this. This.
A ragged noise tears from his throat and he tips his head down, pressing his forehead into the mattress. He's leaning on his elbows, ass high, knees sinking into the sheets, a hot-cold sweat coating his skin. His untouched cock juts between his legs, hard and aching. Leaking. And his ass is full, the silicone toy inside him, pressing, filling. He's so close to coming he can barely breathe.
"What does it feel like?" The hot whisper bounces off his ear as she leans in close. Her chin presses into the well of his shoulder, her breasts soft against his back. One delicate hand traces down the bumps of his spine as the other one gently holds the base of the toy, fingers brushing the curve of his ass around it. "Frank?"
He barely remembers the question. Or even his own name. He'd been expecting at least a little pain with the whole second virginity loss, but lots of lube and patience had meant there hadn't been any at all. Just this fullness - the toy inside, right to the hilt. He's so fucking hard he can't think.
"Jai. Babe, just. Fuck. Fucking-" His hands twitch against the sheets, frustrated. The words aren't coming, but she's a mindreader and an angel because she knows. She makes a rumbly noise in her throat and starts to move the toy. A slow, hot slide out before pushing back in again.
Frank whimpers, twitching and pressing his ass into her hand, pushing back against the slow thrust of the toy sliding in again. Jesus, fuck. This is what it's like to be fucked by someone. They should have got the harness. Next time, next time, he promises himself, squinching his eyes shut and giving himself over to it.
Even without the harness it feels like she's fucking him. The cock in his ass may not be attached to her, but she's moving it like it is. Her thigh is pressed up between his legs where she kneels over him, her body warm against his back. Her lips are hot on the back of his neck, fingernails scraping gently across his chest.
She doesn't stop moving the dildo and Frank can't help groaning with the motions, needy sounds leaking from his mouth. There's a rhythm to it, a lot like the one he falls into when he's fucking her, each thrust pushing a breathy noise from her lips.
"That's it, babe. Take it. Just take it. Let go." She whispers, her voice ragged and low, sounding almost masculine.
He follows the instruction, giving himself over to the rhythm and disengaging his brain. His whole world narrows to the movement of the cock inside him, picking him apart with each stroke. In the darkness behind his eyelids, the body behind him is hard instead of soft. The fingers skating his chest are rough and ink stained, tipped with ragged nails that catch on his skin. The thigh pressing his legs apart is muscular and dusted with hair. The mouth on his neck gently nipping bites to his skin stops to whisper his name in a familiar voice. Not Jamia's voice.
The fantasy feels so dangerous here, with Jamia curved over him, fucking him steady and deep. It’s usually reserved for Frank alone, hand on his dick in a venue bathroom post-show, the smell of Gerard all over him. It's never been any more than that, and he doesn't want it to be. He loves Jamia. Fucking loves her; wouldn't trade the ring on his finger for anything or anyone. It's just sometimes... sometimes he can't help wondering what it would be like.
Like right now. He can't help it, it's so close to the surface, so easy to imagine Gerard's face pressing into Frank's neck as his cock shoves home. The noises he'd make. The way he'd move. The way he'd smell.
He's a fucking bad husband, a bad person, to have these thoughts at all - especially here and now, with Jamia's hands and mouth touching him, bringing him off. He can't help it, though. He moans and pushes back onto the cock, head full of Gerard, how his pale unmarked skin would look pressed against Frank's ink.
Frank bites down on his lip and moans as soft fingers encircle his cock, holding tight and low. Finally, finally being touched there - fuck. It's too much. His cock's on fire. He can't think. He opens his mouth and lets the need leak out, smothering a groan into the sheets.
Something changes. The blood rush abates and he can think again. It takes a moment for him to realize that everything's gone still and quiet. The toy is still inside him, but it's not moving. Jamia's hands are frozen on his skin.
He blinks his eyes open, twisting his head to look at Jamia who's staring right back at him.
"What did you just say?"
Did he say something? He can't remember. "Did I- what?" The words are thick and clumsy on his tongue.
"You said Gee," she says, and the moment she says it, he realizes that he did. Shit.
"What? No, I... I said Jai. At least- I mean, I didn't. Fuck. I'm sorry, baby, fuck. Fuck."
His elbows give and he belly flops onto the bed, face smushing into the mattress. Shit. Way to fuck it up, Iero. This can't end well. There is no way this can end well.
"Frank." Her voice is slightly muffled because he's trying to become one with the mattress. Her tone gives nothing away.
He lets out one more groan of pure self hate before pressing his palms to the bed and rolling onto his back. The movement has his body loudly reminding him that the toy is still in there and oh, apparently potentially destroying his marriage isn't doing anything to tone down the intensity of that sensation.
He blinks his eyes open slowly to find Jamia looking down at him. She looks - fuck, he can't figure it out. She's shocked, sure, but there's something else under there, and he doesn't have the brain cells to put it together. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and it should make her look vulnerable, but it doesn't.
"Babe, fuck. I'm so fucking-"
"Wait. Shut up."
She cuts him off and he lets the words die on his lips, staring at her. She's got one hand up, palm forward like a stop sign and her eyes are shut. She always closes her eyes when she's thinking hard on something.
"Were you thinking about Gerard just then?" Her tone makes it a question, not an accusation.
He's suddenly thankful her eyes are closed, so she can't see the way his face floods warm at the words. There's no point denying it. "Yeah." He has to cough, his throat's too tight. "Yeah, I was. I'm really fucking-"
"Shut up." She breaks him off again, letting her hand fall to her lap and opening her eyes. They catch on his briefly before her gaze drops to her hands. "Is that what you want?"
"No, fuck no, baby. It's you. Okay? You're it for me." He starts to sit up, to try to get closer but she presses a hand to his chest - not hard - but enough to keep him on his back.
"It's not a choice."
"It's not a choice, babe. It's not him or me, mutually exclusive, you know, you can tell me. Do you..." She takes a breath, finally tearing her eyes from the bedspread to find his and they're shot, dark and dilated. "Do you think about him?"
Frank sucks in a shaky breath. He can't lie, not to her. But he can't just tell her.
"Sometimes." The word trips out before he's ready for it and he wants so much to close his eyes, to not see the moment it sinks in for her, but he won't let himself. This is his mess, he has to deal with it.
Except she doesn't look mad, or even sad. She just stares, that same thoughtful-but-unreadable look on her face.
"Do you..." She trails off, blinking, sucking in a shaky breath. Frank's so busy trying to read her facial expression he doesn't see her hand skim across the bed so it's a shock when her fingers close around his ankle. Her fingertips are warm spots of heat on his skin, sliding upwards. "Do you think about what it'd be like..." Her voice catches, breathy as her fingers trace higher, up his calf, over his knee, to trail up the inside of his thigh. The contact sets his skin singing, thrumming under her fingers and it's getting tricky for him to breathe. "What it would be like... if he..." Her voice drops to a throaty whisper as her fingertips slide higher, until he can't feel them on his skin anymore. Because she's resting her hand on the base of the toy now, pressing just enough that he can feel it, inside, the tiniest movement.
Frank sucks in a breath, feeling the movement all the way down his body. The pressure of the dick inside him is tangling his brain up.
She leans closer, hair fanning forward around her face as she assembles the whole sentence. "Do you think about what is would be like if he were to fuck you?"
The question is like a punch in the stomach.
She presses in again and Frank's breath hitches, his spine melting into the mattress. He can't help the choked, needy noise that leaks from his lips. He can't. He can't.
"Yes." The word comes out in a rush of breath, ending in a hitching moan. He lets his eyes fall closed, but that just makes the noise in his head louder. The thrum of need in his body that much stronger. "Jai. Jai. Jai." He can barely hear his own whisper, not sure if he's begging forgiveness or just begging.
She moves the toy, a slow slide out then in again. He whines, fingers fisting the sheets. She leans down, her cheek brushing against his and he can feel the light touch of her breast on his chest, the edge of her lips sliding against his jaw as she whispers, "Is this what you think it'd feel like?"
"Jai. Shit. Jai-" He can barely make his mouth work. He sputters the words, his body tensing and shuddering because she's still moving the toy. In and out, so fucking slowly it's undoing him. He has to say something - there was something he was trying to say, fuck - but he's so fucking hot, hot like a fever, need humming in his body, screaming over any words in his head.
"Do you think he'd do it like this? Real slow? Work you up 'til you're begging for it?" She whispers the question hot in his ear and he chokes on a breath, gasping out a moan on borrowed oxygen. "Or would it be faster?" She speeds her hand, pushing in and out in an increasing rhythm. Fuck, the friction. He's leaking needy moans now, gasping and panting. Shaking.
"What do you think, Frank?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just pushes in with the words as she pushes with the toy. Her voice is pure challenge.
He pries his eyes open, needing to see her, to know just how much trouble he's in. Because this is some kind of punishment. She's going to walk away and leave him like this and go break his guitar or something. Leave him to suffer.
Except when he focuses on her face she doesn't look angry. The expression on her face is - wow. He's seen that one before, when he's buried inside her, thumb on her clit, driving her toward climax. But he hasn't even touched her yet. He hasn't done anything to bring that red stain to her cheeks, to quicken her breath to panting like she is. He doesn't deserve it.
She's so fucking turned on right now it's nearly undoing him to look at her. Like the way she's undoing him with every push of her hand, every thrust of the dick inside him. Fuck. His cock's straining, untouched and so hard even an accidental brush could tip him. Her eyes are dark as she looks at him, her lips curled into a hot smirk.
She leans down, wrist still working, and breathes into his ear, “I think it’d be fast. Fuck. The way he looks at you, I don’t think he could help himself. He’d just want to take you. Fuck you so hard.” He can barely focus on the words, because she’s fucking him harder now, deeper, and every time it bottoms out a groan escapes his lips.
"So fucking hard." she whispers. "He'd be all over you."
Frank can't help it. He can see it so fucking clearly: Gerard arched over him, shoulders pressing Frank’s knees back, his head tucked into Frank's neck, sweaty hair stuck all over Frank's shoulder. Gerard would be loud, making those throaty noises that sometimes leaked out on stage, as his hips shove home, fucking Frank hard. Frank'd have one hand fisted in Gerard's hair and the other clenched on his ass, moaning and taking it, begging harder, more.
"Fuck. Yes. More." Frank stutters the words out, a hand trapped in Jamia's hair and one on her ass. He tilts his head to find her smiling down at him, wicked and hot and fucking beautiful. Breathtaking. And he knows then, that she wants this too. For him, for her, for them. His fantasy is hers, and she's shoving the toy in, bracing her shoulder under Frank's knee and opening him up, getting deeper, going faster, jesus-fuck he can barely take it.
"Shit. Shit-shit-shit, Jai." His hips are jumping up without his permission, humping against Jamia's hands.
"Know who's fucking you now, don't you?" She whispers, and she's rocking her hips behind her hand now, pushing harder, deeper, and Frank can't breathe.
The warm pressure of her other hand on his belly, resting right above his dick, has him gasping. "Please. Fuck, Jai, please." He can barely keep his eyes open. The way they're fluttering makes her face blur, and it's taking everything he's got not to just shove his dick into her hand.
"You'll let me watch right? I want to see him fuck you." She pants the words right into his face and he can't help himself. He growls, arching up to claim her mouth, moaning into the kiss as she fucks his ass.
He gropes for his dick - he has to touch, now, dammit - but she gets there first, quick fingers wrapping around the head, stroking down the skin, slick with precome, and up again in time with her thrusts. He chokes out a strangled noise between their lips, body arching, liquid hot. Jesus Christ, this is what it feels like. To be fucked by his wife - to be opened up and claimed.
It's fucking intense. Amazing. He's shaking and moaning into her mouth, kissing messy and wet, loving every push of the cock inside him. Her fingers are tight and perfect on his dick, stroking fast, and he can feelit, pushing in and shooting up through him like fireworks.
"Fuck. Fuck, I. Uh-" He gasps raggedly - so close.
She barely gets three more strokes on his pulsing dick before he's exploding, shooting hard between her fingers as she bottoms out inside him, and when he comes it feels like he's shaking apart. Air rushes from his lungs on a hot whine, and he trembles under her. She holds him through it, forehead hot against his, slick with sweat, her breath bouncing off his lips.
He comes to, panting hard, blood still racing. Jamia's breasts are crushed against his chest, his belly's sticky with come, and the toy is still inside him. He feels incredible - exhausted and aching and alive.
He blinks his eyes open to find her already looking at him.
"That. Was fucking hot." Jamia's voice is an awed whisper. She's grinning around the words - grinning - and she looks sweaty and flushed and beautiful. "Jesus Frankie, you should have seen yourself."
"You should see yourself." He whispers back, voice shredded. His brain is so totally offline right now he can't really think anything beyond how amazing she is. How incredible that was. And how fucking horny she looks, all lit up and hot.
He catches his hand in her hair, pulling her head down and devouring her mouth. She tastes like salt and want as she kisses him, rough and needy, biting his lips and sucking his tongue. He slides a hand between their bodies, slipping it down between her writhing legs, and she's so fucking wet, slicking his fingers as he seeks out her clit, stroking over it firm and slow with his thumb.
"Fuck. Frankie." She gasps the words against his lips and rubs down on his hand.
Frank's face stretches into a wicked grin, smothered against her mouth. His turn now.
"C'mere, sit on my face. Want to taste you."
He grips her waist and pulls her upwards, and she follows the motions with a giggle and a whine until she's straddling his face, one thigh either side of his head. They've done this one before - the position is a favourite - she can control the pressure and rhythm and he gets to be lazy and horizontal. She braces a hand on the wall and lowers herself down over his mouth. He closes the last inches by arching up, licking at her cunt, and the first taste is intoxicating - salt and musk and her. He strokes his tongue over her lips and clit and she makes a throaty noise, rocking down on his mouth.
He slides his hands up her thighs, grasping her ass in one hand as the other slides up, fingers spreading her lips and he licks again, firm strokes with a flattened tongue that has her moaning low and constant. He fucking loves that noise. Loves the way she tastes and smells, all wet and horny and hot under his fingers and tongue. He closes his eyes and sucks at her clit, burying himself in her, just pressing his face upwards and going for it, tugging her down until she's writhing against him, fucking his face.
He sucks and licks and tastes until his neck hurts, before pulling his mouth off to gasp air, fingers taking over from his tongue, stroking steadily over her clit. He peels his eyes open and looks up at her. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is hanging open, that look of such intense pleasure on her face better than any stripper or porn star. He lets the back of his head hit the mattress, licking his lips and watching her, slipping his hand lower so he can press two fingers inside her as his thumb keeps working her clit.
Jamia groans, her head dropping low and her hips rolling down against his hand. Her eyes crack open and Frank grins up at her, wide and wicked as he curls his fingers up inside her, knowing he's found the spot when her hips leap and she sputters. He doesn't give her time to recover, just arches up off the bed to lock his mouth over her clit as he curls his fingers again, sucking her clit as he rubs the spot inside.
Jamia groans and humps his face, her fingers grabbing hard at his shoulder as she writhes down on him. He loves it when she gets like this, loses control, getting grabby and rough. She's left bruises on him plenty of times and once she nearly brained his head on the wall.
For now he just locks his lips over her clit and sucks rhythmically as he moves his fingers inside her, feeling the pulse of her cunt under his mouth as her breathy moans get louder. He holds tight to her ass and doesn't let up even when she starts pulling his hair hard and groaning like it's too much. She's riding his face now, so close to coming he can taste it on her. He slips in a third finger.
"Frankie, shit, shit." She gasps, bouncing on his hand and he fucks her with his fingers, faster, stroking his tongue over her clit before sucking hard and he can hear it in her groan, feel the throb under his tongue and the spasm of her cunt around his fingers as she comes with a long ragged groan, fingers gripping his skull. He keeps flickering his tongue on her clit until she pulls away, pushing at his forehead weakly, moaning, "Enough, enough, Jesus Frankie, you trying to kill me?"
He giggles and she collapses down beside him, sweat-slick and panting, pressed hot up against his side. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and cheeks, sucking his fingers. His face is wet with her, and he loves it – loves having her scent all over him. He snakes an arm around her shoulder and hugs her close, head still buzzing and fuzzy. She drops a kiss on his neck and rests her chin on his chest, looking up at him with eyes that are vibrant and sparkly.
"Is it still in there?" She trails a hand down his chest, over his belly to drop between his legs, finding the flared base of the toy that's still mostly inside him.
"Yeah." He pushes the word out on a breath, wincing a little when he feels the shift of her pulling it out slightly. "I think it can come out now."
She hums and slides it out gently, tossing it on the floor. His ass feels weird and a little achy. A good kind of achy, though.
"So, that was alright?" she asks, eyebrows twitching together.
"Mmm, yeah." His voice is about two octaves lower than usual, "Yeah, that was alright." He leans down to press his lips to hers in a slow kiss that's lazy and lingering, ending with a wet noise. "It was pretty awesome. I could do that again sometime."
Jamia smiles and sucks on her bottom lip, watching him. That should be a clue that something's up, but he's still too fucked out to process it, so the next question takes him completely off guard.
"You think you want a real dick next time?" She arches a brow as she asks, her voice as casual as if they were planning dinner.
Frank nearly chokes on his own spit. Actually he does choke a little, and winds up doubled over and coughing hard, face burning. When he can breathe again he scrambles on the bed until he's propped up on his elbows, blinking at her and waiting for the punchline, but it doesn't come. She just watches him expectantly, her expression totally open.
"You don't mean-" He stammers, losing the sentence almost immediately because his brain can't keep up. Jesus. Her playing along with some crazy fantasy about his frontman is one thing, but them actually involving Gerard is whole new ball game. A whole new fucked up ill-advised ball game, the thought of which might have him hard again before they even finish this conversation. He struggles for the words, certain he's got it wrong. "You don't mean Gerard?"
The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile that should be illegal it's so wicked. "That's who you were thinking about, right?"
"But. But, Jai. We can't."
"Why not? Give me one reason."
It's obvious of course, but Frank's voice ends up sounding unsure anyway."Ah. Lyn-Z."
Jamia just smiles, snickering a little like she knows a secret. "Give me another reason."
Now Frank can't close his mouth. "Jai. Is there something you haven’t told me?"
She shrugs. "Girls talk. Anyway, all we can do is ask, right?"
Frank knows his eyes are bugging out. Girls talk? That's all he's getting? There's a tumble of words in his head, like when did they talk? And what about? There's a whole lot more questions, but when he opens his mouth to speak nothing comes out. He winds up just sitting there for a few long moments as the meaning of what she’s suggesting plays out in his mind in glorious pornographic Technicolor.
She prods him in the arm, hard, "Well?"
"Um. I could. I mean. Fuck, Jai, you sure?"
She just smiles, wide and wicked and knowing, and he doesn't need to hear the words to know it's a yes. And he really is the luckiest motherfucker on the planet. Even if it doesn't happen, just the fact that it could, that she's even suggesting it, is insane and amazing. Totally amazing. Kind of like his wife.
He swoops down and kisses her hard. She makes a startled noise that turns into a giggle as their lips break apart, then they're both grinning stupidly at each other, curled up naked on the covers.
"I fucking love you." He breathes the words out fervently.
"I fucking know." She grins and cocks her head. "You should. I'm kind of awesome."
Frank rests his chin on her shoulder, feathering a hand through her hair and watching the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles.
She's right, of course. But that's no surprise, she usually is.