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Pushy Little Fuck

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The thing is, Frank is just kind of pushy. This is a surprise to no-one who knows him, Gerard least of all. He's all quick fingers on Gerard's belt and slow fingers once it's undone, slapping Gerard's hands away a little too hard when he tries to help. He can be immovable when he wants, pinning Gerard's hips down with his body when he slides down to tug slowly at the zip on Gerard's jeans, pushing Gerard's hands against the bed, telling him to keep them there. It's a distracted command and Gerard's normally good about following them but when Frank caps his lips around Gerard, one of Gerard's hands is suddenly in his hair like it was always meant to be there. He doesn't mean to do it, but he doesn't see how he can not.

Gerard knows that Frank really loves the way Gerard's voice goes when he moans, and as a result, he always does his best to make Gerard moan as much as possible; little bit of teeth, his other hand rubbing in the crease of Gerard's thigh, pushing back against the hand in his hair and Gerard's good, really good - he doesn't push or pull, just satisfies himself with tangling his fingers in Frank's hair. If there's one thing he's learnt, it's that letting Frank do whatever he wants is rarely a bad idea, and it's worth being good, playing by Frank's rules, if it gets him this.

He tightens his grip a little though, when Frank relaxes and swallows him down. That just makes Frank make a satisfied noise which in turn makes Gerard's vision grey out a little at the edges, fingers of his free hand clenching on the sheets. Frank's all hotwarmwet and there and he comes with a groan and Frank's fingers curled under his thigh. Gerard needs a few minutes to regain the ability to breathe, let alone construct a sentence but it takes longer than expected because Frank's fingers slide along the back of his thigh and curl inwards to rub lightly across the crease between his hip and thigh.

"Mmm, 'cmere." Gerard's other hand is still tangled in Frank's hair and his jeans are bunched awkwardly around his ankles but he can't bring himself to care when Frank slides up him, denim rough against Gerard's skin. He feels easy, pliable, which isn't really that different from before, and he can taste himself when Frank kisses him. His hands go to Frank's back, finding his T-shirt and tugging at it, and Frank grins, straightens up and straddles him. One knee on either side of Gerard's chest, heavier than he looks, and Frank's hands go to the bottom of his T-shirt and start to pull it off as Gerard's go to his jeans, finding the zip. Frank's clothes hit the floor like a snake shedding its skin and Gerard's jeans follow shortly afterwards, his hands coming back to rest on Frank's hips, thumbs resting on the birds inked into his skin. Frank squirms against the feather-light touch and Gerard slides his hands down and wraps one around Frank's cock. Frank groans and leans forward, teeth catching on Gerard's lip.

"Wait," he says. Gerard frowns, opens his mouth to protest and is stopped by Frank kissing him. It's hard, pushy, and Gerard actually means to make more of a protest -it's actually kind of fucking mean of Frank to keep stopping Gerard from jerking him off- but it's pretty hard not to do what Frank wants. Practically impossible to not to push his hands flat against the sheets when Frank presses them down there and then dig his fingers in when Frank lets go, especially when Frank leans back and, and there it is, right there. That smile like a reward for good behaviour, even though Gerard knows that Frank practically gives them away for half a chocolate bar or a dirty joke.

He does pout a bit though. He's man enough to admit that and it clearly said something to Frank because he leans forward again and runs his thumb across Gerard's lips. Gerard opens automatically, which makes Frank smile at him again, sliding two fingers into Gerard's mouth. Frank's teeth close on his lip ring when Gerard swirls his tongue around them, sucking hard and dragging his teeth over Frank's knuckles. Frank's eyes slide shut for a moment and then he's taking his fingers back, raising back up on his knees and reaching back under himself, head tilting forward as his wrist twists. Gerard groans and tries to raise a hand but Frank snarls, arching his neck back as his thighs tighten around Gerard's body. "No."

There's a moment where Gerard's convinced that Frank just said that to make Gerard rebel, give him something to fight against, because he can't seriously expect him to go along with it? To have Frank there, fingering himself, preparing himself and for Gerard not to touch him, not to hold or stroke or-- but Frank's looking at him and he means it, the son of a bitch means it.

"Frank. Fuck." Gerard has to pause there, Frank's all arched spine and tight tendons. His wrist keeps brushing against Gerard's rapidly hardening cock when he twists his fingers inside himself and that's more than Gerard can actually take. "I. Can I? Please."

Frank grunts and slides his fingers out. "Behind the pillow. There's stuff."

And yes, thank you for permission. Gerard feels under the pillow frantically and finds the stuff. There are a lot of things in his life Gerard has that he knows he doesn't deserve, that he's lucky he has, but this, right now? He's earned it. He's shown self-control and restraint and he's definitely owed being able to slick his fingers, his cock, and finally touch Frank.

His fingers leave slick marks across Frank's skin as he touches everything he can reach and Frank moans when Gerard finally wraps his hand back around Frank's cock again. Their kiss is bruising, Frank's teeth clicking against Gerard's as he slides back and down onto Gerard's cock.

He doesn't want to close his eyes, always means to keep them open and watching for as long as he can, but he can't help it, doesn't even realise he's done it till after. There's just the feeling of Frank on him, Gerard touching him at last. Frank's mouth on him. Gerard groans and he can feel the shape of Frank's smile, knows what's going to happen even before Frank lifts his head and moves. Slow, rocking movements at first, getting progressively faster and it's Gerard's turn to arch, fingers of his free hand clenching around the curve of Frank's hip as Frank grins, hair hanging in front of his eyes and curling damply on the back of his neck.

He's struggling not to come, draw it out or at least not give Frank any ammo for the next day, but it's hard, almost impossible. Frank moves when Gerard moans, reward and encouragement and his hand's on Frank's cock and he struggles to find a rhythm, make it good for Frank, and then Frank wraps his hand over Gerard's and that's it, game over and Gerard's coming, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut and Frank over him, the pressure of his hand on Gerard's, the sound of him groaning, the heat of his skin under Gerard's hand.

Frank gasps when Gerard twists his wrist, coming with a muttered curse as Gerard's aftershocks die away in time with the splatter of Frank's warmth on his stomach and chest. Gerard tugs Frank in for another kiss, softer this time and they both inhale when Frank slides off him and plasters himself to Gerard's chest.

"Anyone ever tell you, Iero, that you're a pushy little fuck?" Gerard says, rearranging Frank against his side. Frank's a dead weight, but he lets Gerard position him how he wants.

Frank just grins at him and says, "S'my middle name."

Frank Pushy Little Fuck Iero. There's a song in there somewhere.