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Sex and Violence

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Frank can’t even explain what’s so twisted up in his head. He’s tried. But now when people ask what’s wrong, or if he’s fucking feeling alright, he just wants to wring their fucking necks and make them shut up. He thrusts his guitar into his tech’s hand and rushes offstage without looking back. The crowd is cheering and he wants to scream into his mic and tell them to go fuck themselves. For once, he’s glad they don’t play an encore.

While the rest of the band heads to the green room to pick apart the show, Frank storms out back and digs into his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. Right now he doesn’t care that he’s been trying to cut back. He needs the smoke, and he needs… something. He doesn’t even fucking know, and that’s part of what’s so frustrating.

Three cigarettes later, he starts getting interrupted. First a roadie, then a manager, then another roadie, and all of them asking questions, and looking at him like he’s fucking crazy, wondering why he’s not with his band, and Frank finally gives up and stomps on his cigarette butt a few times. It doesn’t really help.

Once he’s back with his band, he realizes why he’d avoided them. Frank doesn’t want to hate his band. He loves his band. He loves these guys. But Jesus Christ, they can annoy the shit out of him. Thrashing around onstage didn’t help at all, smoking by himself didn’t help at all, and being with his friends isn’t helping at all either. Frank’s itching for a fight. He can feel it under his skin, in his fingertips, in the grooves his nails dig into his palms when he curls his hands into fists, hidden inside the pockets of his hoodie.

Frank stands abruptly and heads for the door, calling out over his shoulder that he’s going to the bus and he wants to be alone. He ignores the quick slap of footsteps following him. Because of course Gerard can’t let him be alone for one fucking minute.

“Frankie, wait up!” Gee shouts from down the hallway. The thudding bass from Blink’s set is loud enough that Frank could pretend not to hear him, but Gerard’s at his side in no time, and he’s harder to ignore when he’s fucking popping up right in front of Frank’s face.

“Can you—not.”

“You okay?” Gerard chirps. “You’re quiet tonight.”

Would you rather I yell at you? “Yeah.”

“Frank,” Gerard says more seriously, laying a hand on Frank’s arm to stop him walking. “Is something wrong?”

“God, Gee, can you just leave me alone?” Frank cries, wrenching out of Gerard’s hold. “You’re so fucking nosy.”

“I could help, though!” Gerard replies, because he just doesn’t fucking get it. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

Frank shoves him away and takes off, storming out and slamming the door on the bus once he’s inside. Gerard is seconds behind him.

“Frankie,” he says, closing the door gently. “What’s bothering you.”

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“But I want to help you,” Gerard tells him in his most condescending voice. Frank’s hands tighten into fists. “Tell me what’s wrong, Frank. Let me fix it.”

“You can’t fix it!”

Gerard comes forward and touches Frank’s arm again. “I bet I can.”

“No!” Frank shouts. He swings without thinking, and his fist slams into Gerard’s jaw. “You can’t just fucking fix it!”

Gerard bounces off the wall and hits the floor, arms flying as he tries to find something to hold onto, to help regain his balance. He stays on his knees for a long moment, panting, facing the floor, and Frank feels the anger bleed out of him.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Gerard. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—Shit, Gee. I’m sorry.”

Gerard’s head swings around. His lips pull into a creepy, wide smile. There’s blood on his teeth. Frank feels a jolt of satisfaction and stamps it down hard as he extends his hand.

“Come on, Gee, I’m sorry, come here.”

Gerard ignores his outstretched hand, just stays on his knees and stares up at Frank, his grin never wavering. He has a look in his eyes that Frank hasn’t seen in a long time, but he remembers it perfectly. Gerard had the same look whenever he posed for those vampire photos, or whenever he had fake blood dripping down his powdered-pale skin.

“Is that what you need?” Gerard asks. He runs his tongue over his teeth, sucks them clean, but at soon as he closes his mouth, the blood returns. There’s a little at the corner of his lips, starting to sluggishly crawl down his to his chin. Gerard reaches up and combs his fingers through his hair, and when he meets Frank’s worried gaze again, there’s a manic light behind his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Frank asks calmly. Gerard isn’t making any move to stand up and Frank’s starting to feel stupid with his hand stuck out in thin air. He shoves it into his pocket and squeezes his fists tight. He wonders if he should get down on the floor with Gerard.

His knuckles throb a little. It’s been so long since he’s been in a real fight. Frank bites his tongue. He can almost taste blood. Almost.

“That’s what you need, right? A fight? Your whole body is itching for it, isn’t it, Frankie? You’re craving it. You just—”

“Shut up,” Frank snaps through clenched teeth. “Sorry I hit you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole about it, I’m just going to bed.”

“You want me to be an asshole, though,” Gerard replies silkily. He opens his mouth wider, shows off the red stains on his teeth. “You want me to deserve it when you hit me again.”

“I’m not gonna—”

Gerard springs to his feet and catches Frank by the shoulders, pushes him back against the wall. “Yeah, you are. You’re just waiting for the right moment. Waiting for me to cross the line.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Frank asks, but he can’t ignore the desperate throb of his hand. He takes his fist out of his pocket and pushes on Gerard’s ribs. Not a punch. He won’t hit Gerard again. A steady grind. But it does little to relieve the ache.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it, Frankie?” Gerard says. His breath is hot and smells too much like blood and Frank pushes him harder, but Gerard doesn’t let him up. “You haven’t beat anyone up like you want to. You wanna make them bleed and know that they won’t fuck with you again. You gotta put them in their place, right? Yeah, tell me, Frankie, come on.”

“You’re fucking—”

“You crave the violence of those early days,” Gerard pants in his ear. “You wanna hurt people. You miss it.”

Frank knees Gerard in the stomach and wrestles him to the floor, slapping one hand over his dirty fucking mouth. “Shut the fuck up.”

Gerard hooks his legs around Frank’s and rolls them over, and then they’re wedged against the base of the couch and Frank can’t get any leverage to push them back, and Gerard’s sitting on top of him. He takes Frank by the wrist and pulls his hand away, and then he fucking licks his own blood off Frank’s fingers, and Frank lashes out again.

He catches Gerard on the side of the head this time, and it’s a pretty light smack but it throws Gerard off-balance and sends him tumbling to the floor. Frank pushes himself up and lunges for him, but Gerard’s quick to get on his knees and meet Frank halfway. Gerard grabs a handful of Frank’s hair and yanks hard, and suddenly Frank can’t see Gerard’s face. He claws at Gerard’s arm and he wants to draw blood again, wants to see the evidence on Gerard’s skin, but his fingernails are short and blunt and he can’t get the angle right. He starts pawing at Gerard’s face instead.

Gerard yelps and lets go of Frank’s hair, and Frank gets a headrush when he snaps back upright. He goes for Gerard’s face again, digging his fingers into the soft part of Gerard’s cheek and smearing the thin, dry trail of blood at the corner of his mouth. Gerard kicks and their knees bump and Gerard reaches around Frank’s waist, holding him tight and close and not letting him get any leverage once again. Frank wraps his legs around Gerard’s thighs and tries to flip them over, but without anything to support him, he lands on his back and Gerard falls on top of him and Frank’s back where he started.

“You’re really bad at this,” Gerard laughs.

“Out of practice,” Frank grunts, and punches Gerard in the side. Gerard grunts and lists to the side, still huffing out a laugh. The bloodstains on his teeth have faded to pink. Frank rolls with him and covers Gerard’s mouth with his own and then, then he could finally taste that coppery blood-taste.

Gerard’s hand flies to Frank’s hair again but this time he doesn’t yank Frank’s head back, he holds Frank close and tight and Frank’s scalp is screaming at him but he doesn’t let up. He drags his teeth along Gerard’s lip and bites down hard when Gerard moans, and then the taste of blood explodes fresh and vibrant and addictive on Frank’s tongue.

Frank plants his hand on Gerard’s jaw and holds his mouth open and still and then Gerard does yank on Frank’s hair. They both gasp sharply as they’re wrenched apart.

“You want it to hurt,” Gerard says.

“Fuck, yeah,” Frank breathes.

Gerard goes for Frank’s shirt first, stretching the t-shirt and hoodie both over his head at once, and then he starts clawing at Frank’s bare skin, and Gerard does have sharp fingernails, and Frank shudders as the pink lines that rise in Gerard’s wake trail down towards his fly.

Frank doesn’t even get his pants shoved down to his knees before Gerard’s squirming out from under him to undress himself. They both lunge for each other as soon as all the fabric is pushed away, and wow, yeah, it’s so much better with bare skin under Frank’s hands. He pinches and shoves and kicks and Gerard fights back just as much but he fights dirty, going for Frank’s throat and his hair and his ass.

Frank’s hard, now, and he realizes as Gerard’s grabbing his ass and pulling him in and Frank’s basically rubbing off on Gerard’s thigh, that Gerard hasn’t made a move for his cock yet. Frank decides to take matters into his own hand by reaching for Gerard’s dick, which is definitely hard and definitely leaving a mess of precome on Frank’s stomach. Frank gets his hand around Gerard and squeezes probably a bit too hard, but Gerard shouts and moans and grunts and Frank craves that and more.

He wriggles up and gets his mouth on Gerard’s again, sucking down those noises and pulling the taste of blood from Gerard’s mouth again. He wants more. Gerard was right. He craves this. He needs it to hurt.

Gerard grabs Frank’s wrist and holds his hand still, picking up the rhythm of quick, hard thrusts with his hips and fucking into Frank’s fist like they’ve been doing this for years. Frank can feel him getting close, and he wants that too, he suddenly wants so badly to see Gerard come, but even more than that, Frank wants to hear Gerard hurt.

Frank lets their sloppy, half-assed kiss fall apart and moves instead to Gerard’s throat, where a gentle bite can go a long way. But he’s not gentle about it. Frank goes for the sensitive skin right underneath Gerard’s jaw and clamps down hard, rubbing his teeth into Gerard’s skin and soaking him with spit in lieu of blood.

“Fuckin’ vampire,” Gerard groans, high-pitched and rough, and comes all over Frank’s stomach.

“You fuckin’ love it,” Frank hisses against Gerard’s skin. When he pulls back all the way he can see the beginnings of a dark bruise. A tendril of smug satisfaction curls in his gut and grows until it’s bleeding out through his face. Gerard kisses his grin away, nipping at Frank’s lips and trying to make him bleed for real.

Gerard slips away before he can manage it, though, and pushes Frank onto his back on the floor, holding him there with firm hands on his hips. Gerard ducks down to lick a stripe of his own come off Frank’s stomach, then continues down Frank’s body to settle between his legs, which Frank spreads eagerly. He likes where this is heading.

But instead of going for Frank’s cock, which could seriously use the stimulation right about now, Gerard puts his mouth on the tender inside of Frank’s thigh, up high enough that his cheek presses against Frank’s balls, and reaches for Frank’s cock with his hand. He kisses Frank’s thigh for a moment, licks the sensitive skin thoroughly, and starts stroking Frank way too slowly.

“Fucker. I just got you off, and this is how you—” Frank starts, annoyed, but Gerard interrupts him with a firm squeeze of his fist around Frank’s dick. Frank trades bitching for groaning and thrusting his hips, because at this point he’ll take what he can fucking get, and that’s when Gerard opens his mouth wide and snaps his teeth around a chunk of Frank’s thigh.

A shock of sharp, brutal pain shoots through Frank’s body and he’s coming before he can even think to hold off, and Gerard shifts a bit and clamps down again, his teeth sliding from their grooves in Frank’s skin to create new ones, and with them, a fresh wave of pain, and it hurts so perfectly that Frank doesn’t even know how to respond. Gerard’s milking the jizz from his dick, pulling long and hard and making Frank shake and whine with the aftershocks, and he doesn’t let up on Frank’s thigh until Frank’s used up and wrung out, shuddering and lax on the floor.

Gerard kisses the throbbing spot on Frank’s thigh that will surely become a gigantic bruise, and Frank can’t wait for that, and he also can’t wait to do this again. He paws at Gerard’s shoulder to get him up, back to eye level. Gerard crawls over him and settles right on top of him.

“Did that hurt enough for ya?” he asks smugly.

“Fuck you,” Frank replies, but it lacks heat. He wants to say thanks, because Gerard was right, this was exactly what he needed, but Frank doesn’t want to ruin the moment with sentimentality.

He wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist and grabs his own wrist at the small of Gerard’s back. Gerard grins and kisses him on the cheek. Frank smiles back. He can feel himself melting into gooey sap. He pinches Gerard’s ass.

“Fuck this. I wanna make you bleed again.”

Gerard’s eyes go dark. “Fuck, yeah. Love that taste.”

Frank pulls Gerard’s head down, presses their lips together and bites.