Ray shuts the last empty pizza box and tosses it onto the pile on the table. "Pizza's clocked, and I'm fuckin' tired. I call the bed by the heater!"
Frank snorts. "Dude, nobody else wants to sleep near that thing – it's the actual loudest thing on the planet."
Ray stands up slowly, stretching his arms up and grazing his fingertips on the ceiling. "I like the white noise."
"Whatever, man. You just like it 'cause it covers up the sounds when you're jerking off."
Ray grins. "And I'm sure Mikey and Otter will appreciate that."
Mikey and Otter give him simultaneous looks of disgust. Well, Otter does. Frank can sort of tell that Mikey's disgusted by the way his eyebrows move down slightly and his mouth opens a little. But wait – if Mikey and Otter were sharing with Ray, then... "Hey wait a sec. Who decided that Gee and I were sharing the single?"
"You're the smallest. It just makes sense." Otter stands up too, smirking down at Frank. "You midgets gotta stick together." He heads into the bathroom, closing the door just in time to avoid being hit by a Frank-powered projectile.
Gerard finally looks up from his sketchpad, frowning up at the bathroom door and then at Ray. "Hey – I'm not a midget! I'm way taller than Tiny Tim over here." He gestures towards Frank with his Sharpie.
Frank decides that this would be a fabulous time to sit on Gerard's head.
"Ow, Frank, what the fuck! Frank, no! Stop! My sketchbook!" Gerard flails around as Frank sits up triumphantly, his ass smushing Gerard's face into the cheap, shiny coverlet on the bed.
Gerard continues to make noises about his sketchbook, so Frank finally leans forward and grabs it and hands it over to Mikey. "Jesus, Gee. It's fine. Mikey has it. Now, who the fuck are you calling Tiny Tim?"
"Frank, get off me, I'm serious!" Gerard shoves at Frank's thigh until he topples off of him onto the bed. "I'm sorry, okay. Jeez. I mean, you're the tiniest human alive – what do you expect?"
Frank reaches over and messes up Gerard's already ridiculous hair. He'd mostly just wanted to do something with all the energy he had. They'd been driving for a day and a half and were only partway to the next tour stop. He always felt like he was going to shake out of his skin on nights when they didn't have shows. He needs to settle the fuck down.
Mikey stands up then, looking around the room. "Yeah, so. I'm gonna go meet a friend of mine. Have a good night."
Ray lies down on the bed by the heater, spreading his limbs out wide. "Dude, how do you have a friend here already? We've been in town like two hours."
"What. She works at the House of Pizza. She asked if I wanted to hang out after her shift."
Frank shakes his head. Mikey, man. "Have fun. Be safe and all that shit." He giggles when Mikey throws Gerard's Sharpie at his head. It glances off his hair and plops down onto Gerard's chest. Gerard reaches up absent-mindedly and closes his fingers around it, as though he'd meant to put it there all along.
Mikey looks over at Ray. "What time do I need to be back tomorrow?"
"I think we're another six hours from Buffalo, still," says Ray. "So, we don't have to leave 'til like eleven?"
Mikey's closing the door behind him when Gerard stands up, calling, "Hey, Mikes, got time for a smoke before you go?" He sticks the Sharpie in his shirt pocket and heads to the door.
Frank perks up then. "Hey, can I bum one?" He rolls off the bed and grabs two beers from the six-pack on the table. "'night, Ray."
Ray doesn't say anything, but a second later, something hits Frank in the back and then falls to the floor with a clink. Frank turns around.
"Key," says Ray. "You guys are in the room at the end. We threw your bags in there before. Sorry, it's kinda tiny." He sounds like he feels bad, so Frank decides not to retaliate, just juggles the bottles into one hand, grabs the key and heads for the door. He can hear Ray yawning behind him. "'night, Frankie."
Mikey's standing in the corner of the motel parking lot, one hand fisted in the pocket of his hoodie, shoulders hunched against the cold, his hat with the fuzzy earflaps perched on his head. Gerard is huddled up next to him, and they're both smoking.
"Fuck, it's fucking freezing out here." Frank jumps up and down to try to stay warm.
Mikey extends the pack of cigarettes. Frank sets the bottles down at their feet, pointing at them to be sure that no accidental bottle-kicking will occur. He shakes out a cigarette and hands it back. Gerard leans over with the lighter, and Frank holds his hands to steady them while he lights up. "Thanks." They smoke in silence for a while. Gerard asks Mikey about the girl he's hanging with tonight.
"Her name's Heather. She's picking me up and we're gonna hang at her place. She's got a Gamecube."
Frank crows, "Sweet! Good thing you didn't tell Ray – he'd be trying to crash your date so he could play Resident Evil."
"It's not a date, man. C'mon."
Frank gives him a look. "Are you spending the night?" Mikey looks down and doesn't answer. "Ha! That's what I thought. Then it's a date." Mikey just rolls his eyes. Frank rocks back on his heels, can't just stand there anymore, so he grabs Mikey's stupid hat and runs away with it. He turns when he's halfway across the parking lot, jumping from foot to foot. "Mikeyway, don't you want your hat back?" Mikey just stands there, watching him. He narrows his eyes slightly, then silently reaches back and pulls up his hood.
Frank runs around the parking lot a few times anyway, just for the fuck of it. He pulls the hat on and jumps up, kickboxing the metal pole of the streetlight. He sucks in a fast breath with the cigarette still clamped in his lips and inhales more smoke than he intended. He ends up doubled over, coughing, and Gerard wanders over and pats him on the back. "You okay, Frankie?"
Frank eventually stands up straight, testing his breath. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks, Gee." He looks around. "Hey, where'd Mikey go?"
Gerard points to the far end of the lot, where Mikey's getting into a blue sedan. "His girl showed."
"Oh. But I still have his hat." Frank feels a little bad about that, but whatever. He's probably better off without a dumb-looking hat if he's trying to get this Heather chick to like him, anyway.
"Let's go in, okay? I'm freezing." Gerard shows Frank the bottles in his left hand. "Brought your beer." He does look really cold, so Frank slings an arm around his shoulders and they head toward the end of the row of rooms.
Frank lets them in and holds the door for Gerard. Gerard steps in and puts down the beer, looking around. "Holy shit. However much cheaper this was, we still paid too much."
The room is tiny – maybe a third the size of Ray and Otter's room. Frank can't even believe that the hotel has a room this fucking small. There's a bed, two bedside tables, a lamp in the corner, and a TV bolted to the wall across from the bed. There's barely enough floor space to walk around the bed to the bathroom, which is tiny, too.
Frank puts his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink and dumps his bag in the corner. "All unpacked!" he says, toeing off his shoes. He stops by the heater and cranks it up and then flops onto the double bed, where Gerard is already lying down, staring at the ceiling. Frank drums his fingers on his thigh, staring around the room. "Dude, look at the walls. Is the room, like, getting smaller? Is this some Star Wars trash compactor type shit?"
Gerard honks out a laugh. "Yeah, totally. 'One thing's for sure. We're both gonna be a lot thinner!'"
Frank giggles. "Dork."
Gerard just scratches his head and then inspects his nails. "Whatever – you recognized it, so dork yourself." He looks down at the Sharpie sticking out of his shirt pocket. "Hey, want a tattoo?"
"Fuck yeah! Awesome." Frank sits up on his knees, holding out his right arm and turning it. "Where should we put it?"
Gerard looks thoughtful. "Mmm. We could do something on the inside, here, maybe." He turns Frank's arm and slides his fingers up from Frank's wrist to elbow. His hands are cool but soft, and Frank shivers a little at the touch.
His voice when he answers is weirdly breathy. "Yeah, cool. What should it be?" He clears his throat.
Gerard looks up at him, smiling Frank's favorite dorky smile. "Whatever you want, Frankie."
"Okay, um." Frank stares at the ceiling for a second, contemplating. "I want a zombie mouse chasing a cat. Like, an alive cat."
"'kay, but the cat could totally get away from the zombie mouse, right? Zombies are slow-ass motherfuckers."
"Mm. Good point." Frank stops to think.
"No, you know what?" Gerard stares intently at Frank's arm, as though the drawing's already there. "The cat can be, like, looking back in horror. Maybe it's frozen with fear."
Frank laughs. "Dude, yes! That's perfect." He leans down and kisses the top of Gerard's head, putting his hand down first and making the kiss emphatic.
Gerard ducks down further and grins again, that same little smile.
Frank reaches over Gerard to grab a beer from the bedside table. "Hey, you mind if we watch TV while you do it?"
"Cool, whatever." Gerard's already settling in with his back against the headboard, pulling the pillows around to make them more comfortable. "What are we watching?"
Frank grabs the remote and scoots back to sit next to Gerard. He clicks the TV on and lays his right arm out on Gerard's knee. "Um, I don't know. What time is it? Actually – what the fuck day is it? I seriously have no clue."
"Like, Wednesday, I think? And it's, um." Gerard squints at the wall clock. "Looks like it's around midnight."
Frank starts flipping through the channels. Gerard looks up and they both say "Ooooh! Golden Girls!" in unison. Frank throws the remote down between them, and they grin at each other. The heater clicks on in the corner, and Frank grabs the remote to turn the TV up. He feels good. Gerard's hands feel nice on his arm, holding it still, and the Sharpie feels cool and wet. It tickles a little, but he likes that.
Two episodes of Golden Girls later, Gerard is almost finished. It looks awesome. Like, Frank would seriously consider getting it tattooed for real if he had any money right now.
"Thanks, man. I love it."
Gerard looks pleased, and he relinquishes Frank's arm. Frank studies it more closely. The cat really does look terrified of the zombie-mouse. "Seriously. Awesome." He blows on it, doesn't want it to smear.
"Oh, here. Let me –" Gerard says, and he reaches over to blow on it just as Frank moves down again. Their skulls collide with a crack and they both reel backwards in shock. "Fuck. Shit, sorry Frankie."
"Sorry! No, man. My fault." Frank reaches up to rub the sore spot and grins over at Gerard, who's doing the exact same thing.
Gerard reaches over and turns off his bedside lamp; the room is lit lowly by the TV and the dim lamp in the corner. Frank takes a swig of his beer. He's feeling more relaxed now, but he still has that antsy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't know what to do to settle it down.
"What do you want to watch now?" Gerard grabs the remote and flips through the channels. He stops on a scene that looks like it's from a movie. "Oh, cool. HBO."
"What is this, though?"
"I don't know. Doesn't look familiar." The actors are dressed in 20's style clothes, and the scene seems to be a party of some sort.
"Oh hey – that's that actress. What's her face." Frank snaps his fingers, trying to place her. "From Pulp Fiction. Bruce Willis's girlfriend."
"Oh, fuck, you're totally right! Um... Maria de Medeiros."
Frank gives him a look. "Dude. You just pulled that out of your ass. How do you know her name?"
Gerard looks shifty. "I thought she was cute, okay? I made an effort." He pauses, watching. "Oh, hey! I know what this is! It's fucking Henry and June! I thought this was rated NC-17, though. What's it doing on HBO?"
"Yeah, for like, 'sexual situations.'" Gerard does air quotes for emphasis.
"Um, awesome." Frank grabs the remote out of Gerard's hand and tosses it across the room. "We're so watching this."
They watch for a while, and eventually the party scene dissolves into a backstage sexual encounter. The Henry dude fucks Maria over a table as she moans his name, while the party goes on behind a screen. Gerard was right, that actress is really fucking cute. The dude really isn't Frank's type, but who gives a shit. The scene is sexy, and he's warm and comfortable, and his dick is like, "fuck, yeah, all systems go" all of a sudden. He squirms a little, trying to tell it to chill the fuck out.
The movie goes on, and Frank actually gets into the story. The Henry dude is a writer, and he's married to Uma Thurman and fucking Maria de Medeiros. When Uma – June – shows up, Gerard makes an appreciative noise. "Man, is everyone from Pulp Fiction in this movie? Are we about to see Ving Rhames up in here?"
Frank laughs. "Seriously. Or, like, John Travolta will show up and dance."
"Right?" Gerard gestures at the screen. "Also, Henry must be a seriously good fuck to get so much play."
"C'mon, they love his big brain, can't you tell?" Frank is giggling, turning towards Gerard to poke him in the stomach because he knows Gerard hates that, when Gerard's eyes widen and he bites his bottom lip. He's still staring at the TV, so Frank lets his back fall against the pillows and turns back towards the screen. And suddenly, things really aren't funny anymore, because Maria's sitting there watching two girls get it on. Like, putting on a show for her. The blonde slides down the other girl's body, spreads her open, and goes down, giving Maria these looks all the while. Frank's seriously never seen anything like it. This is nothing like porn, where the girls have long nails and look like they'd rather be anywhere else. This… this is fucking sexy as hell.
Frank sucks in a breath and realizes that heat is pooling in his lower stomach. His dick is definitely interested now, and fuck, he wants to touch himself so fucking bad. It's just been so long, and, just. Fuck.
"Gee?" His voice comes out low and a little shaky.
"Yeah?" And oh, Gerard's whispering too. Neither of them has taken their eyes from the screen.
He looks over at Gerard, catching his eye, and then looks down at his crotch, where he's sliding his hand slowly over his dick. Gerard's eyes follow his and then widen as Frank sees him get it. It would be funny, if Frank wasn't, you know, touching his dick in front of Gerard.
Frank looks back at the screen and keeps watching the scene unfold, palming his cock. His heart is beating faster, and he feels a little like he's just stepped off a cliff. They've all heard each other jerking off at one point or another – it's inevitable when you're living in such close quarters on tour – but Frank has never done this before.
The movie scene has changed. Maria is seducing a new dude in the back room of a club. As she lays him out on a table and climbs on top of him, Frank lets his hand slide down his stomach, resting there for a minute, pulling his t-shirt up a little and then slipping down again to cup his cock through his jeans. He can still see the pale oval of Gerard's face in his periphery, which means that Gerard hasn't looked back at the TV yet – is still watching him. His dick twitches a little at the thought, and he shifts his hips a bit under his hand.
He's still staring at the screen, but his entire focus is on Gerard, waiting to see what he's going to do. If he doesn't join in, Frank's not going to be able to go through with this, and he's going to have to give up and take yet another long shower. Fuck. He's so sick of jerking off standing up in the shower, or god – in the van, two feet away from where fucking Otter is sleeping. All he wants right now is to settle in, get comfortable against the pillows, and fucking rub one out while watching some gorgeous chicks fuck each other. Or dudes. He really isn't picky.
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank sees Gerard finally turn away. Then, slowly – so fucking slowly – Gerard takes his hand off the bed next to him and moves it onto his stomach. He keeps it there for a minute, just rubbing a little, a couple of fingers sliding under the hem of his t-shirt as he does, exposing a shocking white slice of skin.
Frank blinks and looks back at the TV for a second, but then Gerard moves and Frank's eyes snap back to watch. Gerard's hand is now slowly sliding down over his hip and onto his thigh, and Frank is paying such close attention that he's neglecting his own dick. It's like walking and chewing gum, or whatever the fuck that expression is. He can't concentrate on getting himself off when his entire brain is zeroed in on Gerard's hand and its journey to his crotch at glacial fucking speed.
He flicks his eyes back to the screen. June is back, and she and Maria are naked in bed together, long limbs stretched out on satin sheets. June moves between Maria's legs, their breasts pressed against one another. They kiss, and Frank has to slide his hand back over his dick and squeeze a little. Just as he does, he sees Gerard finally – fucking finally – do the same. A second later, he feels Gerard relax against the pillows, sees his hand definitely moving over his crotch now, and yes – fuck yes – this is happening.
That restless feeling has turned to butterflies. He can't remember being this fucking excited about jerking off in forever. He lets himself get back into the story, sliding down a little so that he's more comfortable. Onscreen, June and Maria are talking. He keeps rubbing his dick through his jeans, but the denim is thick and tough under his fingers, and he can't feel himself through it as well as he'd like. He wonders who will be the first to get their dick out. He's half-hard already, but he wants more.
Suddenly he hears Gerard breathe in, just a tiny gasp, and he can't help it: he looks over, turning his head just slightly. Gerard's cock is obvious under his hand, straining the crotch of his tight black pants. His eyes are on the TV at first, but as Frank watches, they close for a second as he touches himself, his eyelashes long and dark against his cheeks. His tongue comes out to wet his lips and – oh. Oh. Gerard's eyes slide open, and Frank jerks his head back to the TV so fast his eyes take a second to focus on what he's seeing.
His heart is beating faster, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. He's never gotten off with someone else before, not like this, but he's pretty sure that creepy-staring at the other person while they touch themselves isn't cool. He keeps his eyes locked on the TV, where June is straddling Maria, the straps of her slip sliding down over her shoulders, her breasts heavy and full underneath. He closes his eyes for a second and grips his cock through his jeans. He's so fucking hard; he's having a little trouble thinking straight. He just needs more.
He undoes his jeans and shoves them down his thighs, just enough that he has access to his dick. He slides his hand down and sighs, lets his head loll back into the pile of pillows for a second, because yeah, this is so much better. He can feel his hand, warm through the thin cotton of his briefs, and it's not quite skin-on-skin, but it's enough, for now. He trails his fingers up his cock, teasing a little. His breath catches and his eyes close again. He relaxes into the touch, fitting his fingers around his dick as it presses against his underwear. He slips his other hand down to cup his balls, but it's hard to get in there – his legs are bound together by his fucking jeans. He shakes his head a little, frowning; all he wants to do is splay his knees apart, relax back into the pillows, and feel fucking free.
Shit, though – what will Gerard think if he just takes his fucking pants off? It feels like they're balanced on a delicate edge, and he doesn't want to fuck it up. He sighs lowly and works his legs as far apart as they'll go with the jeans binding them. He tries to just ignore it and go back to watching the movie, but he can't concentrate anymore. All he can feel is the tight denim pressing into his thighs, trapping him. Fuck. Just – fuck it. He makes the decision and then squirms around, shoving them down further and then using his feet to help pull them all the way down his legs and off. He flops back onto the pillows, spreading his knees apart with a satisfied sigh, and only then remembers Gerard. He glances over.
Gerard has stopped touching himself and is just watching Frank, grinning a little, eyebrows raised. Frank sticks his tongue out at him and looks back at the TV. "What? I wanna be comfortable. Is that so wrong?"
Gerard huffs out a little breath. "Whatever, Frankie." He sounds amused, though, not mad. Frank tries to keep his attention on the movie, but nothing particularly sexy is happening at the moment. He stares resolutely at the TV, though, trying to follow the storyline, and he feels Gerard shift around a bit next to him. He revels in the feeling of freedom, moving his legs and finding a comfortable position. His cock is still straining against the worn fabric of his briefs, and he slips his hand back in place, gripping himself through the thin cotton, sighing a little.
They're quiet for a minute, and he's just getting back into that liquid, warm state where his dick is calling all the shots, when out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gerard's hand still. Gerard pauses for a minute then looks down, unbuttons his pants, and carefully slides the zipper down. He starts to wiggle them down his hips, but they're really fucking tight, and he's having trouble. "Fuck," he says, kind of under his breath.
Gerard keeps trying to push them down, and Frank tries really hard to pretend he's not noticing. Gerard's making it hard, though, as he uses both hands and squirms around even more, even bumping into Frank a few times. Frank's concentrating so hard on not watching the epic struggle between Gerard and his pants that when Gerard suddenly stops moving he glances over, only to see that after all that, Gerard has only succeeded in getting them halfway down his ass.
Frank can't help it then and collapses onto his other side, cracking up. "Pants: one; Gerard: zero," he gasps out between giggles.
"Shut up. It's hard, okay?" Gerard sounds like he's barely holding back his own laughter. Finally, he heaves an exaggerated sigh and stands up next to the bed. He shoves the pants down with relative ease and steps on the bottoms to pull them all the way off.
Frank realizes with a jolt that he's never actually seen Gerard's thighs before. He also hasn't seen skin that pale since, well, since that day Mikey wore a tank-top instead of a t-shirt. It's blindingly white, and Frank finds it kind of endearing, like he's seeing the soft underbelly usually hidden beneath Gerard's exoskeleton. He grins to himself then, imagining Gerard performing a show as a reptilian beast with horns, still doing all his usual little sassy moves.
When Gerard turns back to the bed, Frank is still just sitting there, staring up at him, his dick forgotten. "Dude. You're like, watching me."
And just like that, Frank feels weird about looking. He can feel himself flushing again and turns his head back to the TV. "So? I wanted to see if you could actually get them off. It's fucking funny."
"Fuck you, funny. I'm extremely alluring at all times." Gerard knees his way back onto the bed and then pauses there. Frank glances over. Gerard is still wearing his long-sleeved shirt, and his hard dick looks impossibly large in his briefs. His expression changes then, from joking to something else. He cocks his head and gives Frank a sideways glance. "So, we doing this or what?"
Frank feels a shivery streak of nerves move down his chest and sucks in a quick breath. His voice comes out low and soft. "Yeah. Let's do this." Fuck. In his head, that had sounded flippant and cocksure. He sighs under his breath and turns back to the TV again. It's fucking hot in the room now. Frank can't tell if it's the heater or him, but he can feel his t-shirt sticking to his back. He reaches a hand up and pulls it over his head and off, tossing it on the floor. The air cools his sweaty skin and he shivers a little, but it feels fucking good.
Gerard had settled back on the bed while Frank was getting rid of his shirt, and he's started moving his hand over his cock again. Frank can see Gerard's briefs sliding under his hand. His own dick gives a little twitch, like, "Hey, remember me?" He grins to himself and puts his hand back on his dick, and fuck, yeah, that feels good. His briefs are thin and soft under his palm, and he strokes himself until his cock is curved hot and tight against him. He slides his hand down between his legs, spreading them further, and then back up to trace the hard line of his dick. He can feel wetness now, where he's leaking through his briefs. He sucks in a breath and hooks his thumbs into the waistband and fucking drags his underwear down. He does the same little move with his feet, and they're off and on the floor.
And there he is, lying on a motel bed next to Gerard – totally fucking naked. He's just decided not to think about how fucking weird that is when Gerard shuffles around next to him and then Frank sees his grey briefs fly across the room. He laughs and looks over at Gerard, who's still wearing his long-sleeved black t-shirt. His eyes move down, and he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help a quick glance at Gerard's cock, which – dammit – is mostly covered by his hand at the moment. He quickly looks away; he's not going to weird Gerard out by staring at his dick like a creeper. Instead, he settles in, bringing his right hand down to rest gently on his own cock. He lets his head fall back against the pillows and just touches himself. God, it's so good.
He begins to stroke himself in earnest, spreading his legs a little more to touch his balls. He grips himself a little tighter, letting his thumb caress the head on the upstroke. He lets out an involuntary moan, bites his lip, and automatically glances over at Gerard to see if he'd heard. Which, of course he had, duh. And all of a sudden he realizes that Gerard is… staring at Frank's dick like a creeper. Frank's heart speeds up, and he barks out a breathy laugh. Gerard snaps his eyes back up to Frank's face, a guilty frown creasing his forehead.
Frank just grins at him and pointedly looks down at Gerard's cock, which – oh god – is fucking huge. Frank had known that it would be, in the sense that he'd seen Gerard's boner onstage before – they all had. But seeing it pressed up against Gerard's zipper as he strutted around the stage was one thing. Seeing it flushed dark and thick under Gerard's busy hand, a foot away from him, is another thing entirely. Frank feels his lips part a little and, fuck, his mouth is watering, what the fuck. Because holy shit, he wants to taste Gerard's cock. Gerard Way, the unwashed phenomenon. He shakes his head a little to clear it, speeds up his own movements, twisting his wrist in the rhythm he likes best. His breath is starting to come more harshly now, and he drags his gaze up to check to see if Gerard is totally creeped out by Frank so obviously wanting to stick his entire face in his crotch.
Gerard's mouth is open a little, too, and he's… watching Frank watch him? That's the best way Frank can describe it. His gaze shifts then, back down to Frank's dick, and then he closes his eyes and lets out a little groan. And holy shit, Frank knows that sound, had heard it coming from the backseat of the van as they powered through the dark Midwest fields, everyone supposedly asleep but the driver. The sound goes straight to Frank's cock, and he realizes that he wants to hear more.
"You can be loud, you know," he says, without thinking it through. "No one can hear us." Fuck. Fuck. That was a weird thing to say. Frank does a mental facepalm and wills himself to be cool. He has to be cool.
Gerard doesn't answer, but Frank can still see his hand moving, so he knows he's not too weirded out. Frank decides to shut the fuck up and concentrate on his own dick for a while. He turns his attention back to the TV – fuck, he'd almost forgotten it was on – and sees that they're having some sort of dinner party. June is there, and she's giving Maria these eyefucking looks every few seconds. It's pretty hot, and Frank gets into it again, teasing himself, moving his thumb across the head of his cock.
Gerard shifts a little next to him, his left leg bending a bit and dropping down so that it's nearly touching Frank's. Frank can feel the heat of it on his thigh, has to look down to be sure that they're not actually touching. Gerard lets out another small moan, and Frank sees his other hand come up and rest on his stomach, then ride the hem of his shirt up a bit, exposing a strip of pale skin. He strokes his fingers across the naked skin, pushes the shirt up further.
Frank realizes that once again he's lost track of the movie. He moves his eyes back to the screen. He stares at the curve of their lips, the way their filmy dresses cling to their breasts, and then he notices that Gerard has moved his hand down between his legs. He's parted his legs a little more, and that's pushed his knee into Frank's thigh. The tiny point of contact feels like it's on fire. He waits to see if Gerard is going to move back, but he doesn't.
Frank's mind is racing. He feels overwhelmed with this – the feel of his own hand on his dick, moving over the head, slick with precome, the two gorgeous women in bed together on the TV in front of him, and Gerard. Gerard, who is jacking his own cock slow and steady, taking his time, who is touching Frank's leg with his own while they're naked, like it's no big deal. Like that's just something you do. He takes a breath and slows down his hand a little. He wants this to last. He slides his other hand up to his stomach, then back, trailing his fingers over the top of his thigh and then down. He moves his hips a little, thrusting up into his own touch. His eyes are closing, but he forces them back open. He wants to see.
On the screen, Maria slowly draws the strap of June's slip down and kisses her shoulders, her breasts. June's tits are spectacular – heavy and full under the thin silk. Frank can't look away, can't stop his hand from speeding up on his cock. His breath is more audible now and he whispers, "Fuck," without thinking.
He sees Gerard's hand moving over his cock, realizes that he's unconsciously been matching his speed, his rhythm, to Gerard's. His cheeks flush and he makes himself slow down. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gerard's other hand slide up his chest, pulling up his shirt, fingering his nipple. He's staring at the screen, and as Frank watches, he pinches his nipple and closes his eyes. His lips part and he moans, a really loud, "Uhhh," that makes Frank's breath catch in surprise.
Frank moves his gaze away from Gerard again. Maria and June are still kissing, but his mind is racing so hard he can't even pay attention. All he can think about is Gerard. He speeds up his hand, sees Gerard do the same and then move his other hand up from his chest, sliding it around the back of his neck and into his hair. His head arches back, and he thrusts his hips up a little.
Frank lets his head fall back into the pillows. He's staring at the ceiling now, just letting himself listen to Gerard's hot breath next to him. His hand is moving even faster now – he's getting close. He can feel Gerard's leg slipping against his, their hot skin sweaty where it's pressed together. Feeling wanton and brave, he leans into it, and he opens his eyes to see Gerard looking right at him, not trying to hide it at all. The combination of Gerard's hot stare, the sounds he's making, and the fucking sight of his hard, leaking cock jutting up between his pale thighs, is bringing him to the edge so fucking fast. It's like watching personalized porn.
"Fuck, Frank," Gerard bites out then, and his breath is coming ragged and hard now.
"Yeah?" Frank breathes back. The word holds a moan between its teeth as he jacks his cock faster, gripping perfect and tight.
"Fuck. Fuck. Yeah." Gerard is thrusting his hips up into his grip now, his head splayed back onto the pillows behind him, his eyes rolling up and back. "Fuuuuck," he moans and then cries out and comes all over his stomach, his chest heaving, breath coming hard.
Frank watches him come, his eyes wide. "Jesus, Gerard," he gasps, looking up to see Gerard's face, his hair disheveled and crazy. His eyes find Frank's and hold them.
"Come on," he breathes, voice low, like he's telling a secret.
Frank grips himself tighter, thrusts forward a little, closes his eyes and just feels it, holy fuck. He can feel it building and hears himself start to cry out. He throws his head back, opens his eyes, and comes, so fucking hard, all over his own hand.
He collapses back on the pillows, strokes himself through the aftershocks, and lets himself come down from it a little. "Holy fuck," he says, when he's slowed his breath down to almost-normal again. He rolls his head on the pillow to look at Gerard, who is lying back and smiling a little shy smile.
"I know, right?" he says in a soft, pleased voice. "That was so much better than in the van, trying to be fucking quiet." He stretches his hands up over his head and sighs happily. "Fuck, I feel good. You have the best ideas."
Frank laughs. "I totally do. You should remember that for the future." He looks down at himself, realizes that their legs are still touching. Now that the moment's over, it feels way too intimate. He slides down so that he's lying flat and feels around on the floor for his t-shirt. He uses it to clean up a little and leaves it covering his dick. Now that he's come down from the orgasm high, he's not sure he wants his junk on full display. He looks up at the TV, and June is shouting at Maria. They're both crying. "My next awesome idea is changing the channel. Who gets up to find the remote?"
"Not me," Gerard says immediately, at the exact same moment that Frank says, "you do."
They laugh again. "Okay," Frank says, craning his neck up to look at Gerard, "rock, paper, scissors?"
"Two out of three."
They're back in bed, lying next to each other and flipping through the channels. Frank's got his briefs on and nothing else, because that is how he rolls. Gerard, however, is wearing his long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pink Hello Kitty pajama pants. Frank pokes Gerard's thigh. "Dude, come on. Hello Kitty? Lame. I'm down with the girl's pajamas and all, but at least wear ones with unicorns or some shit."
Gerard bats Frank's hand away as Frank moves to poke him again. He draws his knee up and points to the pattern. "Hello Kitty is dressed as a pirate, Frank," he says, in his most imperious voice. "The skull and crossbones makes them automatically badass."
"Oh." Frank keeps flipping through the channels, looking for anything worthwhile to watch. "Fine, okay, you're totally right." Gerard looks smug. Frank pokes him again anyway, but not very hard. "I can't believe I just saw my first NC-17 movie, on HBO."
Gerard is staring at the TV and sounds distracted when he replies. "We never got to see Henry's cock. Even in an NC-17 movie."
"I mean, we can't be completely sure. It's not like we were watching all that closely."
"Speak for yourself. I thought it was riveting."
Frank snorts. "You thought the lesbians were fucking riveting. Also, I bet we didn't see that dude's cock. Penises are never in movies, especially not hard ones."
Gerard sounds thoughtful. "I wonder if it'd be hard to get it up with a camera in your face and like a crew and all that shit. With like, an audience."
Frank lets out a full-on laugh. "Well, you do it."
Frank throws down the remote and turns toward Gerard. "Gerard, c'mon. We've all seen you." Gerard looks blank. "You know, onstage."
Gerard grins and looks down. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Frank rolls his eyes. "Uh-huh. You just really love performing, right?" Frank picks up the remote again, playing with it. His heart is beating weirdly fast. It's like he's deciding how things are going to be – whether they'll talk about it or pretend it never happened.
Frank's never been all that great at pretending. "For real, though. I mean, with those tight fucking pants you wear, I kinda knew, but I didn't really know." He looks over at Gerard and widens his eyes a little, smiling.
Gerard laughs, but Frank can tell he's pleased. "What do you mean? It's just a dick."
"Oh, please. You know you have a huge cock, don't even front."
"Whatever. It's not nearly as big as Toro's."
Frank turns to stare at Gerard. "How do you know how big Toro's cock is?"
Gerard giggles. "I accidentally walked in on him one time when we were sharing a room. He was getting out of the shower. Trust me, dude."
"Shit. I – wow."
They both sit there quietly for a minute, contemplating Toro's gigantic wang or whatever the fuck, when Frank blurts out, "What about mine?" and then immediately looks around for sharp objects to stab himself with, what the fuck.
Gerard looks at him, a smile in his eyes. "Your dick is great, Frankie," he says earnestly.
Frank props himself up on his elbow. "What? It's 'great'? Dude, ouch."
"No, no, I'm serious. It's – well, it'd be really great for deep-throating?"
Frank realizes that his hand is cupped protectively over his dick, like he's shielding it from the insults. "Oh, thanks so much. So, you're saying that it'd be easy to swallow due to being so fucking tiny. Awesome."
Gerard looks flustered. "No, Frankie. I meant. I mean – it's proportional. It, like, fits you."
"Okay, whatever, dude." Frank smiles ruefully at Gerard and then sighs a little and lies back down. It's fine. He knows he's not packing Toro-style heat or anything, but his dick has never done him wrong. He gives it a little pat. "It's okay, little guy. Don't listen to him."
Gerard honks out a laugh, and then tucks his hair behind his ears and says, "No, seriously, Frankie. I really want to. Like. Deep-throat it. Or whatever." He beams at Frank.
Frank feels dumb. His brain can't even form words, can't process this at all. "Sorry, what?"
Gerard looks at him with wide eyes and says, "Well, I mean, not like right now or whatever, 'cause we just, y'know, and I'm kinda tired and stuff, but like you know, at some point maybe if the situation presents itself or there's like an opportunity or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath and then dives back in. "Like I don't know, like just as friends and stuff. I mean, probably. It's just something I like to do sometimes and I thought of it when I was looking at your cock, I mean well, you know, it just sort of happened, I wasn't like looking, I was just looking over and it was there, and I thought – "
Frank grabs his ankle. "Oh my god Gerard, stop talking." Frank's mind is whirling. Is he fucking serious, or does he just feel bad for saying that Frank's cock is tiny and is trying to fix it by being all Gerard-style weird? Gerard wiggles his toes and makes an abortive flaily motion with his hands, and Frank starts to rub Gerard's ankle with his thumb, trying to be soothing. In like, the weirdest way possible. He rolls his eyes inwardly. Way to go, Iero. Finally, he lets go and twists around till he's facing Gerard. "Gee. I'm just gonna put this out there right now: you are welcome to do that anytime. Anytime."
Gerard rolls his eyes, but his lips are curving up at the corner. "Wow. I'm completely shocked that you'd feel that way," he deadpans.
Frank grins and sits back so he's propped up on the pillows again. He grabs the remote and keeps flipping through the channels. He sees a familiar-looking image and stops himself before hitting the channel button. "Oh my god, it's Goonies!"
Gerard's face lights up, "We have the best movie luck tonight, oh my god."
They watch as Sean Astin rides his bike through the rainy streets and both sing along with Cyndi Lauper. Frank stands up and un-tucks the sheets and blanket on his side of the bed. "Dude. Covers."
"I'm not gonna get under yet. I'm still kind of hot."
Frank rolls his eyes and mutters, "That's because you're wearing fifty thousand layers and the heat's on." He pulls back the covers as much as he can with Gerard's weight holding them down on the other side of the bed and gets in, propping the pillow up so he can still see the TV.
"Isn't it weird that this kid grows up to be Sam?" Gerard says, yawning.
"Sam?" Frank says, kicking his legs out sideways and feeling the cold sheets slide against them. "Oh, right. Hobbit-Sam. Yeah, I guess it is kinda weird." He yawns too. "I hope I can stay awake until they get to the pirate ship."
"Me too." Gerard slides down further in the bed, his head on the pillow next to Frank's. "'night, Frankie."
Frank wakes up from an amazing dream, and someone's mouth is on his cock. His eyes jerk open, but the room is completely dark and his mind reels, trying to pinpoint exactly where he is and what the fuck is happening. He gasps involuntarily, because his dick is quickly hardening fully in someone's mouth. Suddenly the someone pulls off and says – in Gerard's voice – "Hey, you're awake! Morning, Frankie," before tonguing Frank's cock back into his mouth. And oh fuck – he just keeps going down and slides it all the way in. Frank sucks in air and chokes, feeling the head of his dick press against the back of Gerard's throat.
"Holy shit. Holy shit," Frank groans and then reaches over to where he knows the bedside table is supposed to be, fumbles around, and switches on the lamp. Gerard opens his eyes and looks up at him, blinking in the sudden bright light. He looks a little silly, up on his knees, bent over Frank's cock, nose almost buried in Frank's pubes. Frank's never seen anything hotter in his motherfucking life.
Gerard slides back and off – slowly, almost reluctantly. He moves his tongue against the underside of Frank's cock as he does, and Frank moans and closes his eyes. When he opens them, Gerard is sitting up. He catches Frank's eye and looks questioningly at the lamp. Frank laughs and shakes his head a little. "Sorry. I just. I wanted to see you."
Gerard smiles at that and looks back down at Frank's cock. Frank watches his expression change, his eyes darken. He looks intent as he pushes his hair back and slides his hands up the sides of Frank's thighs. He rests his chin on Frank's leg for a second, then leans up to run his tongue over the tattoos on Frank's hips. Frank arches and squirms, letting out a breathless giggle. Gerard slips his fingers under the elastic waist of Frank's briefs and tugs. "Here, help."
Frank immediately lifts his ass off the bed, and Gerard pulls the underwear down his legs and off. Gerard moves back up again right away, his hot breath ghosting over Frank's wet cock. Frank shivers, and Gerard's fingers anchor his hips against the mattress. Frank can feel each point of pressure holding him in place and bucks up, testing. Gerard tightens his grip and slides his tongue down the length of Frank's dick, taking his fucking time. He opens his mouth then and takes Frank in, and it's hot and slick and fucking velvet-soft, and Frank feels dizzy with it. "Oh, fuck, Gerard," he moans, his voice loud and reaching over the steady hum of the heater.
Gerard sucks him down, keeps going, deeper and deeper, until Frank's cock is entirely enveloped in Gerard's hot mouth. Frank sinks his head back into the pillow and pulls in a deep breath. It comes back out as a stuttering moan, and he quickly covers his mouth with his hand. Frank can feel himself sliding over Gerard's tongue, hitting the back of his throat. His eyes flutter open and closed – he can't concentrate long enough to focus on anything. One finger slips inside his mouth and he moves his tongue against it, sliding it in and sucking softly, feeling wanton.
He unclenches his other hand from the tangle of bunched-up sheets – when had he even done that? – and trails his fingers up his chest. He can feel his heart pounding against the sweaty skin under his fingertips. Gerard pulls off and then licks downward, tonguing and sucking Frank's balls. Frank moans around his fingers. His breath is uneven and faulty, and his back keeps arching off the mattress even though he's doing his best to keep still. Everything in him is concentrated on Gerard's hot mouth moving on his cock, taking him in, hollowing his cheeks, and oh god, swallowing.
Frank slides his free hand down and into Gerard's hair. Gerard presses up against his hand, and Frank gets a better handful and pulls up a little. Gerard moans loud and long around his cock, and Frank bucks up at the sensation. Gerard's hands grab his hips even harder and he slides his mouth back down, taking Frank all the way in again, Frank's hand still tangled in his hair. Gerard bobs up and down, the head of Frank's cock sliding rhythmically against the back of his throat, and that is all Frank can fucking take.
He feels his orgasm building, feels ready to break. He tugs up on Gerard's hair and pulls his hand away, and that's the only warning he can give – he's fucking coming apart. Gerard slides back, sucks gently on the head, runs the flat of his tongue over it once more, and Frank cries out – really fucking loud – and comes so hard and so long that he's shaking with it, his wet fingers sliding out of his mouth, his whole body tensing and then finally relaxing. Gerard swallows it all, runs his tongue lightly over the head, and then collapses on the bed next to Frank, breathing hard.
Minutes go by, and Frank just concentrates on breathing, his body still twitching with the aftershocks. He tries to collect his thoughts, but they all keep flitting away, scattering into the corners of his brain. Slowly, he comes back to reality, turns toward Gerard, slides down to where he's flopped out on the bed and just looks at him for a minute. Gerard's hair is a dark nest of tangles; his mouth looks red and used, and his cheeks are flushed.
"Jesus, Gee. You're so..." He falters then, because the perfect word just won't cycle to the front of his mind.
Gerard smiles, though, and he just slips his hand around the back of Frank's neck and pulls Frank down into a kiss.
Gerard's mouth is soft and so warm, and at first they just press their lips together, almost chastely, just feeling that little shock you get when your lips touch someone else's for the first time, soft and pliable. Frank's heart pounds, and he lets himself sink into it, moves his mouth over Gerard's, pulls back and bites – gently, though – pulling Gerard's bottom lip into his mouth and sucking lightly. Gerard gasps a little, and Frank slips his tongue into Gerard's mouth, sliding it slowly against Gerard's. He can taste himself on Gerard's tongue, and it's dirty and intoxicating. Gerard moans, and they break apart, panting.
"You. Just." Frank's still trying to calm his thoughts, which are now spinning in an entirely new direction, because: kissing – fucking mind-blowing kissing. "I can't believe you woke me up with a blowjob."
Gerard grins up at him. "I totally did." He looks really smug. "It's kind of all I could think about, last night. I haven't come that hard in, like, years."
Frank feels a jolt of electricity run through his veins. "Neither had I, until five minutes ago." He can't help the grin that spreads across his face. Gerard reaches up and runs his thumb along Frank's bottom lip. Frank catches it in his teeth and bites gently, thinking. After a minute, he lets it go and confesses, "I thought about it too."
"What, you were thinking about me? Deep-throating your cock?" Gerard sounds interested.
"No, I meant, um. I thought about, like, how you would taste." Frank starts to fuss with the edge of the sheet. "I wanted to know."
Gerard's grin is huge now. "I am okay with you finding out, whenever you want."
Frank feels a slow smile spread across his face. "Wow. I'm completely shocked that you'd feel that way."
Gerard laughs and scoots back, leaning up against the headboard. Frank follows, crowding up next to him and forcing Gerard to shift over and share the pillows. Gerard gives him a little pouty look, and Frank laughs and kisses him again, just because he can, until Gerard has to break away to breathe. Frank moves to kiss down Gerard's neck and run his teeth lightly along his jawline. Gerard shivers, and Frank can feel his pulse racing beneath his lips. He slides his hand down Gerard's chest, his own heart beating faster. He slips his fingers under the elastic of the pajama pants and tentatively traces the hard line of Gerard's cock through the thin cotton of his briefs. Gerard makes a noise, a little breathy moan, and pushes up against Frank's hand. Frank strokes him until he feels Gerard leaking through the material. He finds the waistband, pulls it down, and finally gets his hand on Gerard's cock.
Gerard squirms and moans happily, tilting his face up for another kiss. Frank doesn't respond quickly enough, and Gerard has to slide his hand around to the back of Frank's head and pull him in. Frank feels dazed. He's got his fingers curled around Gerard's hard cock, can feel it heavy and thick in his hand, and Gerard is kissing him – hard, deep, filthy kisses that still taste a little like his own come. Gerard whines and thrusts into Frank's hand, and Frank snaps out of it and starts jacking him, slipping his palm up to the head to rub the precome around and slide it down as he strokes. He twists his hand on the upstroke, the way he likes it when he jerks off.
Gerard is breathing hard, letting soft sounds escape between kisses. He moves his lips to Frank's ear and pants, "Mmmm, yeah, like that," and Frank does his best to keep the rhythm steady. He slides his mouth down Gerard's jaw, leans down, and sucks Gerard's nipple into his mouth, biting a little. Gerard moans loudly and bucks up into Frank's hand. He pulls Frank back up and kisses him again, his mouth wet and insistent.
Frank still wants Gerard's cock in his mouth – the weight of it, the bitter-salt taste, but he can't stop now – not with Gerard making those noises, like porn, right into his mouth, and throwing his head back to gasp, "tighter, unh, faster, please," and moving his hips. Frank tightens his grip and moves even faster, his muscles starting to ache from the awkward position. Suddenly Gerard gasps in a breath and then shouts as he comes hard, spurting all over Frank's hand and his own belly. Frank softens his grip and strokes Gerard through it, slowing down and letting go when Gerard twitches his hips away.
"Oh my god," Frank groans as they flop down onto the bed, breathing hard. He stares up at the ceiling, which could be spinning a little, he's not completely sure. He tries to parse out the morning so far – make some fucking sense of things – but his brain is sex-dumb and won't go much further than: yes. His fingers are wet and sticky, and he realizes he's still got Gerard's come all over his hand. He grins to himself and reaches up to lick it off.
"Ew, Frank. You're gross."
Frank rolls his head to the side and looks at Gerard. "Dude. I just came in your mouth. Remember? You were there, I swear."
"That's different." Gerard states, sounding a little petulant.
Frank slides over and rolls on top of Gerard, purposely smearing the remaining come between them. He giggles over Gerard's fake protests and peppers his face with kisses until Gerard is laughing too.
They're gathering up their stuff, throwing clothes and toothbrushes into bags – they have to meet the other guys in a few minutes. They'd spent the morning lounging in bed, limbs tangled, talking about movies and music, about the show tonight and whether they'd been to Buffalo before. It had been awesome, and completely without weirdness. Frank had even gotten Gerard in the shower with much wheedling and the promise of a blowjob. His knees and jaw were fucking sore, but it had been totally worth it.
Gerard throws his bag on the bed. "I'm ready, I guess. You?"
Frank looks around. Aside from the seriously messed-up bed, the room is pretty fucking bare. "Yep." He's starting to feel that familiar ache in his stomach – that oh my god we've got a show tonight feeling. He's surprised it's held off this long. He tries to ignore it, grabs his bag and heads for the door, but before he can open it, he feels a tug on his arm.
He turns around, and Gerard takes his bag and dumps it unceremoniously on the floor. "Hold on a second."
Frank looks over at him. His wet hair has made two damp patches on the shoulders of his shirt, and the collar of his jacket is folded under awkwardly. Frank grins and reaches over to fix the collar. "What's up?"
Gerard smiles back. "Nothing, just. Are you good?" He shoots a quick glance at the bed, so fast Frank thinks that he might have imagined it.
"Yeah, I'm good, Gee."
Gerard frowns. "You just, you look a little…" He gestures with both hands, circling them around wildly in a way that's supposed to depict… uh… emotional turmoil?
"No, man. It's not that." Frank smiles ruefully. "It's, you know – we've got a show tonight."
Gerard looks at him for a minute, his brow still creased, and then breaks into a grin, showing his weird little teeth. "I know! It's gonna be awesome."
Frank can't help but smile back. "We'd better go, yeah?"
"Cool." Gerard turns around and then reaches back and grabs Frank's ass and squeezes.
Frank yelps and then laughs. "Cool," he agrees.
Gerard leans down to pick up the bags and hands Frank his. Frank's sleeve pulls up as he reaches over, and the zombie mouse peeks out. He stares at it for a second and feels his stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with the show tonight.
"Hey, you think Mikey will make a new 'friend' in Buffalo too?" Gerard shoulders his bag. "Maybe they'll have a DVD player. I'm totally in the mood to watch Pulp Fiction again."
Frank feels his grin stretch his cheeks. "Seems pretty likely, knowing Mikeyway."
Gerard smiles back, warm and wide. "Awesome." He opens the door.