Frank was surprised when Gerard looked up from the bed, because he didn't think he'd even been listening to them. He'd just been lying on his back with his sketch pad propped up on his knees, not paying any attention to Frank, Ray, and Mikey talk about going down on girls. To be honest, Frank was startled that he'd even have anything to add.
"The thing is," Frank was arguing, "and don't get me wrong, I like it and all, of course I do, but the thing is, how do you even know you're doing it right?" He shook his head. "It's frustrating, you know? They could be faking it, or something, and half the time, they don't even tell you what's working."
That was when Gerard looked up. "Huh," he said, sounding surprised.
"What?" Frank demanded, looking at him from his vantage point of the beanbag chair in the center of the room.
"Nothing, it's just -" Gerard waggled the pencil he was holding. "It's easy to tell. Your face gets really wet when you're doing it right."
Mikey, sitting on the floor next to the bed, shut his eyes and shook his head, muttering, "I don't want to know about this, Gee."
Gerard looked at Mikey with concern. "What? Why not?"
Ray, sort of spinning back and forth in the half-broken desk chair by the desk (the back tended to fall off), laughed. "Gerard's right, dude," he said, grinning at Frank. "If your eyelashes don't end up sticky, you're doing something wrong."
Gerard looked at Frank. "Your eyelashes don't always end up sticky?" he said, still sounding surprised.
Frank blinked, confused. Wait. What did Gerard know about it? "I - well, no, not - I mean -"
Gerard stopped pouting at Mikey for not wanting to so completely overshare with his brother, and sighed. "Mine do, every time." He wiped one thumb over his eye now, like he was remembering or something. "It can be distracting," he said.
Wait. "Wait." Frank sat up as best he could on the beanbag. He looked at Gerard, then at Mikey, who looked really focused on the back issue of Doom Patrol on his lap, then at Ray - who shrugged and widened his eyes - and then back at Gerard. "You mean you -"
"Besides," Gerard said thoughtfully, sitting up now, and letting his sketch pad slide off his lap. "It tastes different, when a girl comes. You can totally tell."
Frank was staring. His mouth was open, too, but he couldn’t quite get himself together here. If ever in the world there was someone who he was pretty sure got less action than Frank, it had to be - had to be - Gerard. "Wait," he said again. "I mean - listen. How many girls have you gone down on?"
"Oh." Gerard fiddled with his pencil again, slouching back down on the bed and pulling his sketch pad close again. "Some. I mean -" He drew a little bit, then leaned back, studying the pad with a critical eye. "A few." He looked up.
Frank was staring at him, waiting, and he made a violent, well, elaborate on this turn of events, please! motion with his arm. Ray was paying pretty close attention, too. Mikey had laid down on the floor and had his eyes shut again.
"I mean, not a lot," Gerard said finally, squinting at them a little. "Maybe - fifteen? Or, I don't know -" He chewed on his lip a little. "Around twenty," he said tentatively.
"Not a lot," Frank said, turning to look at Ray, outraged. "Not a LOT." He was pretty sure - no, never mind, he was absolutely sure he and Ray didn't have anywhere near twenty girls between them. Jesus Christ. (Mikey didn't count. Mikey had this weird getting-laid superpower or something.) Sure, Gerard was in college, but holy crap, college had to be way more awesome than Frank had previously thought if even Gerard got laid that often. Fuck, college had to be a virtual sex fest if dudes who lived in their mom's basements and got their little brothers to bring them weed got to eat girls out on a regular basis. Frank thought about the year left he had in high school with fucking despair. College was too fucking far away. Frank wanted sex fests now.
"Well, no." Gerard looked down at his sketch pad. "I don't keep a list or anything," he said, his cheeks a little pink.
Frank kept a list. Or he would have, if he had gone down on enough girls to need one. As it was, he'd done it twice, and he was not at all certain to what degree of success. All he knew was that his eyelashes never got sticky. And – man, you could taste it when a girl came? The few times he'd been lucky enough to get to do it, he'd had a hard enough time finding his way around how wet and confusing it was down there to really do anything. "Jesus Christ," he said, pushing himself up from the beanbag and moving to sit on the edge of Gerard's bed. Ray slid closer, too, rolling himself forward in the desk chair. "How?"
"Huh?" Gerard looked up at him through the hair that had fallen forward into his eyes.
"You live in your mom's basement," Frank said. "How do you - I mean, who are these girls? And - here? I mean, you bring them here?"
"Well, yeah." Gerard pushed himself to sitting again, apparently deciding to take Frank's line of questioning more seriously. "Where else?"
Mikey groaned quietly from the floor. "Why are we still talking about this?"
Here. On this bed. Frank looked down at the messy Star Wars sheets and the comforter strewn with empty cigarette packs, lighters, pencils, action figures. Here, on this very bed, was where Gerard - no, okay, he couldn't even think about it that close right now. "Who?" he demanded. "Who are they?" He really fucking wanted to know. Where was Gerard finding these girls? Girls who let Gerard eat them out and tasted different when they came?
Gerard raised one eyebrow, looking weirdly smooth and adult, on his Star Wars sheets. "I don't - no, Frank," he said. "I don’t kiss and tell, okay? That shit's not cool."
"You weren't just kissing them," Frank said.
"Which is actually very cool," Ray pointed out softly, looking at Gerard with deep admiration.
Which. "Okay, yeah, point," Frank admitted. But still. "But still -" God, he didn't even know what to fucking do with this new and profoundly bizarre information. Gerard, going down on girls. Like, a lot. And sure, Gerard had four years on Frank, and fuck, to have that many girls, he had to have totally gotten laid in high school, too, which, okay. Frank could kind of maybe see that, because basement or not, Gerard was a pretty fucking dude. Not to even mention the fact that he was apparently good enough at it that the girls came so hard that it made his eyelashes sticky, what the fuck.
Frank was more sure than ever that he'd never actually made a girl come before. His life fucking sucked.
"I don't know." Gerard waved one hand around. "Parties and stuff. Mikey makes me go out, sometimes. And -" He shrugged. "You know."
Frank didn't know. He really, really didn't.
"Wow, dude," Ray said, finally. "I had no idea."
Gerard was looking down at his lap, playing with the loose threads of the hole in the knee of his jeans. Frank couldn't quite see his face, not really, but he was pretty sure his lips curved up into a small smile.
The thing was, Frank couldn't stop thinking about it. After Mikey really very vehemently changed the subject away from eating girls out, the four of them sat around talking about, man, Frank didn't even know, he really didn't, because all he kept thinking about was Gerard. Going down on girls. That he somehow magically met in the Land of College Sex, where you not only met lots and lots of girls who would let you go down on them, but you got good at it. It was – seriously distracting, was all.
After he and Ray took off, their conversation on the way home went something like:
"Dude. I know."
"I mean. Gerard."
"Of all people, just - Gerard. Dude."
Even after Ray dropped him off, Frank couldn't get his mind off of it. He sat through dinner (with his mom), thinking about Gerard, in his basement bedroom. Smoking, drawing, drinking, stewing in his own grime. And going down on girls. On the bed where Frank had been sitting right next to him, that was where the magic happened and Frank couldn't even get his act together enough to respond in any coherent manner when his mom asked him curiously if there was something wrong with the lasagna he so wasn't eating because he was too busy thinking about the surprising sex life of his best friend's weird older brother. Awesome.
And later, up in his room, after he'd dragged his history book out of his bag and opened it to the questions he was supposed to be answering, he still couldn't stop thinking about it, because hi, history homework, or Gerard putting his tongue in the right spot (exactly where, Frank wondered? Was the spot different for every girl? Did Gerard have a hard time staying right there, right there when they demanded it? Because Frank did. That demand seemed to have the direct effect of causing him to veer the fuck off course every single time) was kind of a fucking distraction from his boring-ass history assignment.
Fuck this. This whole thing turning Frank on so hard, he felt dizzy. He had to jerk off, like, now.
When he shut his eyes again, all he could picture was Gerard hanging out on his messy bed in the basement, his face between some girl's thighs, and the girl in question was moaning and shoving forward against Gerard's busy mouth, and Gerard was just going with it, moving his head and his tongue in the right way, just –
Or, God. Frank blinked up at the ceiling for a minute. He was kind of overwhelmed with the image of some girl just riding Gerard's face. Gerard was – God, Frank couldn't fucking get past the fact that Gerard had done this, had been doing this. Frank had this mental image of Gerard being totally gung-ho okay with whatever and whenever and however. Maybe that was one reason why he got so many girls – how he was so totally curious about pretty much everything that he was willing to give it a shot face-first or whatever.
Picturing that – Gerard giving some girl a shy smile, getting her into a conversation about, oh, fucking dragons or gazelles or whatever it was that had captured Gerard's interest that week, and then the girl looking at Gerard, and really seeing him, seeing how he was really good looking, see how his mouth was fucking made for sex (seriously, not that Frank had noticed, except for how Frank had totally noticed), and then, you know, the girl might just go for it, because Gerard wasn't, apparently, a hard sell. Frank pictured it progressing from kissing to more, and the girl working her way up to sitting on Gerard's face.
Okay. Okay. He wasn't doing this. He wasn't, except for how his hand was wrapped around his dick, and he was maybe making more noise than he should have been with his mom right down the hall, but god, if he was being completely honest here, Gerard was a really fucking interesting guy and Frank wanted to picture this. Well, in reality, he wanted to see it, but for now, he'd take the image of Gerard face-down between some girl's legs.
Which was the main image that stuck in the very forefront of Frank's brain as he stroked himself off in record time, even for him, biting his lip hard as he came all over his own hand, thinking about Gerard's tongue.
So yeah, the whole thing where Frank had started jerking off to the idea of Gerard going down on girls on pretty much a daily basis made it a little weird the next time he came to hang out with Mikey and Gerard was the one who opened the door. "Oh!" Frank said, loud and weird, because apparently that was how he rolled.
Gerard blinked at him, looking a little hazy around the eyes. "Frank." He blinked again, and Frank just sort of – went up on his toes and back down in response, instead of saying anything like he was a human being with communication skills or whatever. "Hey, come on in."
"Right!" said Frank, still sounding too loud to his own ears. He followed behind, shutting the door, and following along as Gerard shuffled back down to the basement.
"Mikey's out," Gerard offered when they were halfway down. "I was just trying to decide which Next Gen episode to watch."
"Not Darmok again," Frank said automatically, stumbling on the stairs. Mikey was out. It was just Frank and Gerard. And Frank had been spending way too much time with his hand on his dick, picturing Gerard eating out girls.
"But Darmok is awesome," Gerard said wistfully. "They communicate only in metaphor."
"And that's cool, yeah," Frank said agreeably, surveying the disaster area that was Gerard's room and toeing off his shoes carefully only once he was settled on the bed. Gerard's floor was vaguely terrifying. "But you pick it every time."
"I like it every time," Gerard pointed out, and dug around under a pile of (possibly clean but probably not) laundry on the floor to emerge victorious with a half-empty bottle of rum.
"Try something new," Frank suggested, watching happily as Gerard poured two drinks in plastic party cups, light on the coke and heavy on the rum, and handed one to Frank. Gerard never thought twice about the whole Frank-not-being-entirely-legal thing. Gerard just liked having someone to drink with. And Frank thought that was awesome. He sipped his drink, grimacing at the taste, and listened to Gerard talk about…something to do with alien metaphors, but Frank wasn't one hundred percent listening, because he was still kind of trying to keep his mind off of what he'd been thinking about all week. Namely Gerard's amazing college sex life.
And okay, his mouth, as usual, was forging ahead without his brain actually being in on it, because suddenly, he was interrupting Gerard's explanation of alien flowers being metaphors for emotion with, "So, Gee! Tell me how you do it."
Gerard, cut off mid-sentence, looked at him. "What?" He peered down at his drink like he thought Frank was asking him how he got drunk. Which, Frank knew how he got drunk: easily and often.
"The girl thing. The going down on girls thing. How do you do it?" Because really, he thought he was missing some important, intuitive leap between Gerard shuffling out to parties in dirty hoodies with a bottle of rum in his pocket and winding up with his face between a girl's legs. Frank was looking for logistics.
"Oh." Gerard looked down at his drink again and finished it one swallow. He pushed the glass onto the mess that was his bedside table and turned towards Frank. "It's actually kinda easy, once you get the hang of it."
…there was a way to get the hang of, like, getting girls to go to bed with you? Because that would be awesome.
"Come here, I'll -" Gerard slid his hand around the back of Frank's neck, holy fuck, all warm and tugging at him a little. Frank couldn't even move or breathe or do anything but stare at Gerard with wide eyes, until Gerard was pressing his lips to Frank's mouth. Like it was something normal. Like it was something they just - did.
Frank made a strangled sound in his throat, but it came out more like a whimper, and he couldn’t actually do anything at all except splash his drink all over himself because he was a loser seventeen year old who didn't know how to control his limbs when a hot college loser dude kissed him. And then, fuck, Gerard was sliding his tongue into Frank's mouth. Gerard tasted like rum, and something sweet behind that, and his lips were fucking soft, and he was a shockingly good kisser. Like. Really good. Like, Frank could feel it in his fucking knees, the kiss was that good.
"So there's that," Gerard said, pulling back and pushing his hair behind his ears. He looked intent and serious, like he wanted to make sure Frank understood the kissing.
Frank didn't understand the kissing. He liked the kissing, but he didn't get why it was happening, right now, to him. But hey. He was flexible - he could roll with this. He downed the remains of his rum and coke and set the empty cup on the bedside table.
"Right," he managed finally, his throat burning. He was about to clarify that he had actually been asking about how Gerard convinced girls to go to bed with him, but Gerard did this thing where he sort of half-pushed Frank back onto the bed and used the momentum to slide on top of him in this bizarrely smooth move that Frank was going to have to really try to recreate at the next opportunity he had to try and climb on top of someone. Gerard had one thigh slid between Frank's legs, really close against him, before Frank even had time to react.
"Wow," Frank said. Because, wow. College made you smart.
Gerard's face was very close to his, and his eyes were fucking huge. "I know, right?" he said, sounding quietly pleased. He leaned in and kissed Frank again and Frank decided that making out with Gerard was the best way to see what moves came next. Frank wasn't in college yet. He didn't have any moves.
"Okay," Gerard said breathlessly, pulling back from Frank's mouth. "So, okay." He was rocking up against Frank a little bit, like he wasn't really aware of it. The angle was really good, this awesome slide of denim, and the friction was perfect, and Frank was hard as a fucking rock. Hard as a rock, when like two minutes ago, he'd been sitting on Gerard's bed, waiting for him to pick which episode of Next Generation they were going to watch.
And, like, now? Now, Gerard had Frank's belt undone and the button on his jeans flipped open and zipper down before Frank could do much more than say, "Ahh…" He flailed around, trying to grab a hold of Gerard's wrist just so he could have a second to, like, catch his breath, but Gerard had his hand wrapped around Frank's cock before he could manage any sort of hand-eye coordination.
"Cool," Gerard said, looking pleased by – what, Frank didn't know. Maybe his cock. Which, okay, Frank thought that was cool, too. Gerard stroked Frank a little bit while Frank stared up at him, completely unable to believe this was actually happening. He just – he maybe need a little -
"Listen," he said, his voice coming out embarrassingly breathless. "What are you – you just – we don't –"
"Oh!" Gerard scrunched up his face a little bit. "Sorry, sorry, right, I didn't mean to –"
Frank blew out a breath, trying to decide if he felt relieved or let down that Gerard was backing off of this really fucking weird turn of events. "No, I mean, whatever, just –"
"Right." Gerard was sitting back – still straddling Frank – and pushing his hands through his crazy hair again. "I'm sorry, I– I get distracted real easy."
"Distracted," Frank said, because wow, wow, distracted was one thing, making out and hand jobs were something else.
Gerard waved one hand. "I know, I know. Okay. So." He clapped his hands and grinned down at Frank. "So this is where it gets fun," he said, swinging himself off of Frank's lap before flipping Frank over in yet another smooth ninja move. And now Frank was face-down on the bed and Gerard was sliding his – really warm – hands into the sides of Frank's open jeans, lifting Frank's hips smoothly and tugging his jeans down, and off, right along with his boxers.
"What," Frank said, only his voice came out as a squeak. "What," he tried again, but Gerard was pushing Frank's t-shirt up high, smoothing his hands down his back. Frank had his hands pressed against the bed, ready to push himself up, but – oh fuck, oh fuck, that was Gerard's mouth on his back, warm and wet and there was no way Gerard knew that that spot right at the base of Frank's spine was a spot for him. There was no way, but his mouth slid right down to it along Frank's spine and traced over it with his tongue, and all the arguments and embarrassment and confusion were gone out of Frank's head entirely. He was fucking undone by the hot feel of Gerard's tongue, steady and sure, drawing patterns right along that spot where every nerve ending Frank had seemed to be connected right to his dick.
"Jesus. Fucking –" Frank dug his hands into the messy sheets and blankets under him, so tight his hands ached. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
There was a moment when Gerard pulled away, and Frank blinked his eyes open, staring down at the mattress and wondering if he should do something, say something, but when he managed to look back over his shoulder, Gerard had stripped off his shirt and was shoving his dirty jeans down his thighs and off onto the floor. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and he looked all intent when he gazed at Frank. Intent, and naked. Naked. Suddenly Frank was having naked times with Gerard.
Frank blushed – he could feel his face heat up - and he pressed it down into the pillow.
"Right, so –" Gerard's voice was breathy and tense, and he tugged at Frank's t-shirt a little, saying, "Lift up, okay?" and Frank did without even thinking, letting Gerard pull it over his head. And right after, Gerard was licking his back again and then dipping lower, and then lower, and then they were so far away from watching sci-fi DVDs on a Friday night, Frank wasn't even sure they were on the same planet. Because that was Gerard's tongue in Frank's ass, and oh God, oh my fucking God, Gerard was– God, all in there, licking intently, like, not holding back at all - at all - and he was doing this little flickering thing with his tongue that was driving Frank fucking crazy and he didn't even know shit like this happened. To anybody. Ever.
(Also, he was really glad he had showered before coming over here.)
Frank had been fucked before, by guys. Or, okay, by a guy, this one dude named Pete, who he was pretty sure was a friend of Mikey's, at a party at Bob's place that one time. It had been – unexpected, yeah, but fucking good - Frank had been sort of shocked by how much he had liked it. It had been hot, and fun, but also kind of quick, and here, well, Gerard was being…thorough. Really fucking thorough. No sex in Frank's whole life so far had even come close to what Gerard was doing to him right now. Tongue-first.
Frank couldn't even – he didn't even – he was moaning, his breath hitching and uneven and fucking loud against the sheets, loud enough to worry that Gerard's mom upstairs was going to hear, but he couldn't - could not - fucking stop or think or even fucking breathe, because – Gerard's tongue. In his ass. Licking there, and going in, only the tip, but still. Every time Frank gasped out another breath against the pillow, Gerard moaned, low in his throat, fucking vibrating against Frank's ass, and fuck, fuck, Frank was really fucking losing it. He couldn't even move, it was almost too much, like his whole body was lit up and he was going to come any fucking second.
Gerard's hands were anchored against Frank's hips, holding him down and the moans coming from Gerard's throat were filthy and perfect and driving Frank forward, like they were in this together, like Gerard was just as fucking turned on by this as Frank was, which – wasn't possible. It so wasn't fucking possible. Frank was falling apart. Frank was losing his mind.
"Jesus," he said against the pillow, shoving his face down hard against it as Gerard flicked his tongue against Frank's ass. Frank had never even really imagined this, never even in his fucking filthiest dreams had he – "Jesus, Christ, Gerard, just like that - that."
Gerard hummed unevenly against Frank's ass and never stopped moving his tongue, and Frank shouted way too fucking loud and came all over Gerard's sheets, shaking so hard it felt like he was coming apart.
"Jesus," he panted. "You –" All he could do was lay there, still shaking, feeling fucking wasted, while Gerard's tongue moved higher now, licking gently over the curve of Frank's ass, up to the small of his back again, making Frank tremble all over.
"Yeah?" Gerard said, and his voice sounded shredded, like he'd smoked a pack of cigarettes and done a shot of tequila on top of that. "Jesus, Frankie, when it's good, it's so fucking good."
"I –" Frank didn't have a single fucking word to follow that up with. "I –"
"Fuck," Gerard said, moving up, sliding over Frank's back, and his hard dick was dragging along Frank's thigh, leaving a wet trail behind. "Fuck, Frank, you're so fucking hot."
Frank couldn't even think straight. Frank just came all over Gerard's bed, with Gerard's tongue in his ass. And he felt – god, he didn't know, he wanted more, and he wanted it now and Gerard was right there, and Frank just fucking wanted it. "Gerard," he heard himself say, because there his mouth went again, without waiting for any permission whatsofuckingever. "Fucking just - fuck me, okay?"
Gerard stopped for a second, pressed up against Frank's back. "…are you sure?" His mouth was hot against Frank's ear, and Frank's whole body shuddered at the question, because, "Yes, god, fucking yes, I'm fucking sure, please, I fucking – I just –"
And Gerard was great, he was fucking perfect, he was amazing, because the very second Frank got that out, he was going, "Yeah, yes, okay, let me just –" and then he was dragging Frank's hips up off the bed and there was a long moment when he went, "Fuck, right, condom, fuck," and fumbled with his bedside drawer. "Fuck," he mumbled, and then, "Oops," as he dribbled lube, wet and cold, all over Frank's back before sliding his fingers through it and pushing one inside Frank, briefly and shockingly easily, oh man, yeah, that's what Frank fucking needed.
"Okay, yes, fuck, okay," Gerard said, pulling out his finger. "Are you good?" He came back with two fingers as he asked, and all Frank could do was moan frantically against the sheets and push back, hard, with his hips. Gerard rocked his fingers in and out, his hard cock pressed against Frank's ass, like he was waiting.
"Yeah," Frank managed finally. "Yeah, good, please, you –"
"Hang on," Gerard said breathlessly, and then he pressed his cock into Frank. And Christ, it was so good, oh man, the fucking stretch as Gerard pushed in slow, so fucking slow, was so good.
"Fuck," Frank said, his head hanging down between his arms, pushing back against Gerard."Fuck, yeah, that."
"That," Gerard panted against his shoulder. "Oh, god." And then he pushed forward again, slow and steady and fucking awesome, and Frank was getting hard again, and he fucking loved every bit of his life.
"Fuck, Frank," Gerard ground out, and bit Frank's shoulder, and Frank moaned, way too fucking loud, and shoved back against him, hard and, like, fucking wanton. And Jesus, fuck, oh Jesus, that set Gerard off, because Gerard was fucking him now, fucking him hard and deep and steady and Frank was going to lose his mind over how good this was, over how fucking much he wanted it. "Faster," he gasped, as Gerard dug his fingers into Frank's hips. "Harder."
"God," Gerard was saying against his ear, "Oh, God, yeah, I'm trying, I want – Jesus, Frankie, Jesus," and then he yelled against Frank's ear and shoved in deep, deep, and held there, his whole body tense and shaking hard as he came.
"Holy fuck," Frank said, as Gerard collapsed on top of him and they both smashed flat against the mattress. "Holy fuck," he said again as Gerard mumbled something, and pulled out, shaky and panting, still.
"Jesus." Frank pushed himself up from the mattress as Gerard fumbled the condom off and dropped it on the floor without even tying it off first. Frank wrapped one hand around his cock, hard as a fucking rock, and pushed himself up over Gerard, kissing him at the same time as he jerked himself off.
He was leaking and dripping down onto Gerard and Gerard was lying there boneless on the bed, but mumbling happily into Frank's mouth (seriously, the dude never stopped talking) as Frank gasped and cursed, thrusting hard into his own fist while Gerard slid his hands up over Frank's hips.
"Gah," Frank said, finally breaking off the kiss, because he was going to come, he was going to -
"Yeah, Frankie, yeah, come on, come all over me, I want you to-"
Gerard sounded blissed out and breathless and Frank came all over him with like two more strokes.
"Oh," Gerard breathed as Frank groaned and collapsed down on top of him. "Oh, yeah, just -" Frank could feel Gerard's hands doing their flaily thing on either side of them, but he couldn't move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn't do anything but lay there on top of Gerard, with the mess of come and sweat between them. Jesus Christ.
"Fuck," he finally managed, blearily, and rolled off of Gerard. He was sweaty and sticky pretty much all over, and he didn't fucking care. That's how fucked out he was. He lay there next to Gerard, on the dirty sheets, his hand resting on his own sticky stomach.
Gerard rolled up onto his elbow next to him, his hair very seriously crazy now, like, homeless-guy-on-the-bus crazy. He was beaming. "Like that," he said.
Frank blinked at him. "What?"
Gerard ran one hand through his own hair, smiling a little. "What you asked."
Frank thought maybe he had lost some brain cells during the whole sexcapade. "I don't – what?"
Gerard pushed himself up to sitting, pulling at the messy blankets so that he was wrapped up in a sort of blanket toga. He leaned towards Frank, blinking seriously. He had really fucking pretty eyes. "You asked me how, you know." He waved a hand. "You wanted me to show you."
"I –" Frank blinked, and counted to ten, and took three deep breaths. There had to be some way to get his brain back online, here. "Gerard, I seriously have no fucking clue – oh." Oh. He had asked how Gerard did it. He – had, he guessed, but – "Gerard, that was –" He breathed out again, still lying there sprawled out on Gerard's dirty sheets. "I didn't expect a presentation. It was more of a…logistical question."
"Oh." Gerard tilted his head a little bit, still looking at Frank all intent and just pretty. "I'm not very good with those."
"Yeah," Frank said. "I'm picking up on that." He lay there, completely amused that Gerard had thought that this was some sort of Extreme Sports Show-and-Tell session.
Gerard was looking at him a little anxiously. "I don' t –" He bit his lip. "I don't do this with just anybody, Frankie," he said.
Frank raised a dubious eyebrow.
"Seriously." Gerard frowned at him. "What kind of a guy do you think I am?"
"I don't know," Frank said pushing himself up on his elbows. "A guy who has a lot of basement hook-ups?"
"I don't!" Gerard said indignantly.
"You kind of do," Frank pointed out, sitting up as well. Because, hi, hello, Gerard so totally did.
"Okay, maybe some, but not a lot, and also, they're not hook-ups." He frowned again."Do you really think I'd do that –" He gestured wildly at Frank's – nakedness. "To someone I didn't really like?"
Frank thought about it, while Gerard crossed his arms over his chest. "I – no?" he ventured. Because, well. No. "But I mean. Just. You have more than your fair share of experience."
Gerard looked upset. "I can't help it if I'm good at something!"
Good at something. Like, tongue-action, apparently. Best superpower ever, Frank thought.
"Besides," Gerard said. "I mean – do you see a lot of girls hanging around here in my basement?"
"Well." Frank looked around, like one might be hiding somewhere or something. "No."
"Right." Gerard scraped his fingers through his crazy, tangled hair. "Because they don't stick around, after." He looked at Frank. "Maybe you should consider that I'm the one being taken advantage of, not them."
"I never said you took advantage of them!" Frank kind of couldn't picture Gerard taking advantage of anyone. "And also, I wasn't the one taking advantage of you when you had your tongue in my ass."
Gerard's frown eased up a little. "That's true," he said. Then he looked at Frank. "It was good, though, right? I mean, you liked it?" He actually looked a little worried or something.
Frank looked at him incredulously. "Yes," he said slowly, like he was talking to a mental patient. Which he was starting to believe was accurate. "I liked it. A lot. What with, you know. Coming all over the place." And, you know, all over Gerard.
Gerard, who was looking down at the blankets, smiled a little. Like he was happy Frank had liked it. Like he was happy Frank had come all over him. Like, Frank thought, watching the little smile on Gerard's face, like maybe Gerard liked him. Like maybe Gerard had been a little too eager to show Frank the ins and outs of oral sex and maybe it wasn't just that Gerard was being, you know, helpful. Which. Huh. Frank was down with that. Frank was really pretty much more than willing to hang out with Gerard any time and come all over him whenever Gerard wanted.
"Well, good," Gerard was saying now, as he plucked at the various folds, making mountains and valleys out of the material. "I figured it was pretty much the same concept."
"Wait." Frank said, still back in the whole Gerard maybe probably likes me place. "What do you –"
Gerard was looking up at him through his eyelashes. "It's essentially the same thing," he said. "I'd just never exactly done…that, before."
Frank slid back down to lie flat on the bed. "You'd never - I mean, with a guy?"
"Oh, no, I mean, I've had sex with guys before," Gerard said matter of factly. And man, thought Frank. College sex life completely ruled, didn’t it? "I mean the whole, you know, tongue thing."
Frank closed his eyes for a second. "Oh, okay. Right. Got it." He – wow.
Gerard shrugged one shoulder and slid down to lie beside Frank. "I mean, I read things," he said. "I had some ideas."
Frank had ideas all the time. Frank had a lot of ideas. None of them had ever had to do with licking someone's ass. Not, he admitted to himself, that there was anything at all wrong with it. At least. Not when it was Gerard doing the licking. Specifically, doing the licking to Frank's own ass. "Right," he said faintly, and had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Well. You're, you know. Good at it."
Gerard looked pleased. "Cool," he said.
Frank rolled back over onto his side so he could see Gerard. Gerard was looking at him, too, all happy. "I'm in your basement all the time," he said.
"I know." Gerard beamed at him. "It's totally awesome."
"Right." Frank forged forward. "And you know, I was in your basement all the time before you ever –" He gestured a little, and when Gerard frowned, looking confused, Frank elaborated with, "You know. The – tongue thing."
"Oh!" Gerard nodded. "Right. Yes."
"So, I mean." Frank looked at Gerard. "I mean, I'm not going anywhere."
"Well. Cool." Gerard pulled haphazardly at the blankets, getting them mostly up over them both. He pushed one hand under the covers, his cold fingers poking around the covers under Frank until Frank yelped, and Gerard emerged, victorious, with the DVD remote. "You want to watch some Star Trek?" he asked. "I mean, if you can stick around for a while?"
"I –" Frank looked at Gerard. "Okay, yes. I want to watch some Star Trek."
"We could marathon season five?" Gerard asked hopefully. "You could stay over."
"Sure," Frank said, and oh, hey, now Gerard was blushing, the color high in his cheeks as he bit his lip and grinned happily down at the sheets. "Uh. Except, let me call my mom real quick, to ask." And now Frank was blushing, too, because hi, yes, absolutely, lick me in inappropriate places and then fuck me up the ass, but please, let me ask my mom, after, if I can have a sleepover. Being in high school sucked.
"Okay, Frankie," Gerard said, like it was no big thing, and oh hey, okay, Frank maybe loved having friends with no sense of cool. He called his mom real quick, trying very very hard to not think about how he was doing so naked, and got an okay on the sleepover. When he hung up, Gerard looked at him worriedly and said, "Mikey will be home soon. We should maybe put on pants."
Frank – again – blushed like a moron, but it was just Gerard to see him, so that was okay. They pulled on their clothes, and then Gerard poured Frank another (totally illegal yay) drink, and climbed back on the bed with him, pushing at the pillows till they were both propped up enough to see the TV. "Cool?" he asked, pressing play on the remote.
"Cool, Gee," Frank said quietly, and Gerard made a happy humming noise and – okay, then. Frank settled in to watch some Star Trek. Sometimes, things were just as easy as that.