The first time it happens, Frank thinks it’s an accident and it freaks him the fuck out.
Mikey groans and tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair.
“Yeah.” His voice is ruined and Frank feels how his cock swells so that Frank’s lips are stretched to just this side of uncomfortable, catching on the ridge behind the head of Mikey’s cock. “Like that. C’mon.”
Frank looks up at him, the long lines and the sharp angles of his body, thrown back against their ratty couch, given over to his pleasure. It’s a sight he’s grown familiar with in the past few weeks, but one he can’t imagine tiring of any time soon, and he’s drinking it in – the flush on Mikey’s chest, the way he’s biting his lip – when he catches a movement out of the corner of his eye.
He can’t move his head, not like this, but he can see enough that he realizes that it’s Gerard, and his first reaction is to stop, to pull off. But Mikey grips his hair hard enough to hurt and comes, groaning, into Frank’s mouth.
It’s enough to distract Frank, and by the time he’s sucked Mikey through his orgasm, and out the other side, until he’s squirming and over-sensitive to Frank’s tongue and teeth, Gerard is gone. Frank feels comfortable enough to climb onto Mikey’s lap and let him jerk him off, until he’s letting Mikey swallow the moans from his mouth as he comes in stripes over Mikey’s stomach.
It nags at him later, though, and he’s fairly sure that Gerard will shout at him – or at the very least subject him to an earnest discussion about respecting communal space when your fuck buddy’s brother and lead singer is crashing in your spare room. But Gee doesn’t say anything, and Frank sure as hell isn't going to bring it up, so the whole thing passes without comment and everyone is happy.
Frank’s mostly sure this is a relief.
The first time Mikey fucks him, it’s post show desperate. They’re sweaty, high from the music and the crowd, and Frank is glad that they’ve got a hotel night, because he needs this, and it would be awkward if they were on a bus with the rest of the guys around them.
It’s bad enough as it is. Mikey’s sharing with his brother, and Frank is in with Bob and Ray and when they push into Mikey’s room, already biting at each other lips and clawing their clothes off, Frank is brought to a standstill because Gerard is already there.
Not that it stops Mikey; Frank has to pull his face away, his fingers wrapped in Mikey’s hair to stop him pulling Frank back.
“Your brother,” he hisses, and Mikey spares the dark shape on Gerard’s bed a glance.
“Is asleep.” Mikey sounds sure, and Frank likes to think he has more resolve but Mikey’s biting his arm, leaving perfect teeth marks on as much of Frank’s skin as he can reach.
“But…” Frank tries, he really does, and Mikey groans and shoves him onto the free bed.
“It’ll be fine.” He scratches over Frank’s chest, pinches his nipple until Frank moans. “You just need to be quiet and he’ll stay asleep.” He lowers his head, licks at the nipple he’d pinched. “You can be quiet, can’t you, Frankie?”
Frank nods, catching his lip between his teeth as Mikey bites.
He’s sure he can be quiet – he’s been in bands for years, and you learn to get off quick and dirty and silent, if you want to avoid hours of ribbing the next day. But the wild card here, the factor he’s not used to, is Mikey. Mikey who seems determined to make him lose his cool, Mikey with his wicked teeth and wickeder fingers, spreading Frank open, stretching him until Mikey climbs on top of him and lets their cocks brush together.
“Wanna fuck you bare,” Mikey says, his voice rough, and Frank’s breath catches. “‘m clean, I swear.”
And fuck it. Frank’s never been known for sensible decisions, so he nods and there’s barely enough time to breathe before Mikey’s pressing into him, hot and hard and desperate, and saying Frank’s name like it’s some kind of prayer.
It’s heady, intoxicating, and Frank forgets his vow of silence, giving himself over to this feeling of being filled, to Mikey’s thrusts that get harder, more erratic, until Mikey pulls Frank as close as he can and comes inside Frank, and Frank, stretched far enough that he swears he can feel each pulse of Mikey’s dick, gives in and rubs himself off against the sweaty skin of Mikey’s stomach.
It’s only afterwards when they’re panting and sticky, sweat and come cooling uncomfortably on their skin, that Frank remembers Gerard. He glances over, furtive and suddenly a bit ashamed, but there’s no movement from the bed, just the same dark lump of blankets that had been there before.
“See?” Mikey whispers directly into Frank’s ear and it makes him shiver. “I told you he’d stay asleep. He always does.”
“Yeah,” Frank says. “Maybe.” He lets Mikey wipe him clean with a t-shirt and pull him into bed and into sleep.
If Gerard is surprised that he’s slept over, he makes no sign of it in the morning. Just gets Frank a coffee as well as Mikey, and it’s not long before the awkwardness that Frank feels fades back into nothing.
He knows Gerard isn’t asleep though the night that Mikey jerks him off in the back of the van. Everyone else might be, but Gerard… Gerard’s not. He can’t be. He’s driving.
Frank tries to slap Mikey’s hands away, but Mikey is a persistent little fuck, and short of making a noise – which would attract the exact attention he wants to avoid – there’s nothing he can do.
Instead he has to try and keep his breathing steady, gritting his teeth against the noises he wants to make, almost too tense to enjoy what Mikey’s doing to him.
“C’mon.” Mikey’s voice is muffled, his face pressed into the skin of Frank’s neck, his teeth grazing Frank’s pulse point as he speaks. “You know you want this.” He adds a twist to the end of each stroke, and Frank nearly bites through his lip.
“I don’t,” he says, too breathy, maybe a touch too loud. “Mikes…” He looks around the van, checks that the others are still asleep, that Gerard is concentrating on the road in front of him.
“You do.” Mikey bites hard enough to mark, and Frank can’t help it – he gasps. “Tell me, Frankie. Tell me how much you want me.”
“Mikes…” The word comes out like a breath, a promise, but Frank can’t find the words he needs. “Just…”
“You want this,” Mikes says, low and assured. “You want me. You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?”
He speeds up his hand and Frank gasps out “Yes” because there’s no point lying about something as obvious as that – not now.
“‘S’good,” Mikey says, sounding breathless himself now. “You’re good. Gonna come for me, Frank?”
And Frank does, spilling over Mikey’s knuckles with a groan that has Ray grumbling in his sleep from the seat in front of them.
It takes him a moment to catch his breath, and by the time he does Mikey is bringing himself off, using Frank’s come as lube. It’s filthy and perfect and he can’t tear his eyes away until Mikey comes, wipes his hand on Frank’s shirt, cuddles into him like the post-orgasm zombie he is.
Only then does Frank look up. Everyone’s asleep still, even Ray, and Frank lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Only Gerard might be a problem, his eyes catching Frank’s in the mirror for a fraction of a second before he looks back at the road.
Frank swallows, not sure if he should say anything, but Gerard flicks the radio on, almost to quiet for Frank to hear. He doesn’t look back again, and they drive on through the night.
The thing about Frank, though, is that he’s smart – smarter than most people, blinded by his tattoos and his propensity for being a jerk, tend to give him credit for – and it doesn’t take him long to work out that there’s a pattern.
It’s just the nature of the pattern that gives him pause.
Is it that Gerard watches? Or that Mikey wants to be watched?
If Frank’s being honest with himself, he’ll admit he’s considered both options at some length, and he’s not sure which he prefers.
Clearly the answer can only be found through science, and Frank is in the perfect mood to be a scientist.
The first step takes some planning, not much, but enough that Frank feels like he’s setting up a surprise party or something. He waits until he and Mikey are at a show, in the crowd this time rather than on stage, and instead of heading straight to the pit, he pulls Mikey to one of the sofas at the back. It’s dark enough that he has to strain a little to see the puzzled moue of Mikey’s lips, but there’s enough light to see the couples making out on the other sofas.
“C’mon,” he says, pulling Mikey down. “’s’been ages.”
“It’s been twelve hours,” Mikey says, but he’s smiling as he slumps next to Frank and starts kissing him.
“Twelve hours is ages,” Frank says, slightly breathless already. “And you’re wearing those pants.”
Mikey shimmies his hips, and how he can do that when his jeans are so tight Frank does not know, and pulls Frank into his lap.
“I like to look good.”
“Yeah.” Frank bites at the corner of Mikey’s jaw. “Everyone’s fucking looking at you in those.”
Mikey hums, and kisses Frank again, and it’s nice – it really is – but there’s none of the frantic excitement of the other night when Gerard had been there. Not exhibitionism then, Frank thinks as he slides his hand into Mikey’s pants, or not just exhibitionism.
He licks his hand clean as he congratulates himself on his scientific approach, and figures that Mikey wrestling him down onto the sofa and bringing him off, fast and dirty, is the sort of inducement that would get more kids into science.
His next experiment takes less in the way of organising, but more in the way of nerve.
In the end Frank resorts to a couple of bottles of Dutch courage before putting it into action.
“I’m not feeling great,” he tells Mikey at the bar. “You go to the show without me. Let me know if the band’s any good.”
“Sure?” Mikey’s gaze is serious and his fingers are warm on Frank’s face. “You don’t want me to come home with you?”
Frank shakes his head, and Mikey kisses his forehead. “Gee’ll be over later. I told him he could crash again. Let him know if you need anything?”
“Yeah.” Frank kisses Mikey and pulls away. “But I probably just need some rest.”
He hightails it back to the apartment and by the time he hears Gerard’s key in the lock, experiment B – catch the voyeur – is well under way.
Frank’s never been shy, but he’s never really exposed himself like this before either. The mirror, maybe, was a step too far, but it means he can see Gerard when he pushes the bedroom door open, can see Gerard’s face when he notices Frank, naked and sweat drenched, his ass working up and down the biggest vibe that Frank owns.
He stops, his hand on the door, and Frank moans, pinches his nipples, lets his head fall back as if he’s lost in his pleasure.
It doesn’t take long after that – either Frank’s discovering a hitherto unexplored fetish for exhibitionism, or he’s used enough to Gerard watching him now that he’s comfortable, even like this.
Besides, he was fairly close when Gerard walked in, and it takes a bare dozen strokes of his cock before he’s coming, hard enough to see stars. He hears the door click closed again while he’s catching his breath, and by the time Gerard “arrives” home five minutes later, he’s pulled himself together and gotten dressed, the smell of sex and sweat the only witnesses to what he did.
He’s thoughtful. Gerard watched, sure he did, but still, something seems different. He has his suspicions about what that might be, but it takes a couple of weeks before he gets confirmation.
For once, he hasn’t even set this up. They’d gotten home from a club and Frank had taken one look at Mikey, his eyes smudged with eyeliner and dark with lust, and had let them tumble to the sofa. He’s naked now, kneeling astride Mikey and riding his cock without any other thought in his head than how good this feels.
It’s still not a surprise though when Gerard walks in, pausing when he sees them on the sofa before taking a step back to where he can watch them without being seen himself. Except Mikey does notice. Frank sees his eyes flick towards Gerard before he buries his face in Frank’s neck and moans.
It’s fast, fast enough that Gerard doesn’t notice and Frank groans, pleasure and excitement and confirmation bubbling under his skin and making him feel ripe and heavy. Because Gerard is watching, and Frank suspects he might be watching both of them.
He feels Mikey’s excitement, adding to his own, the press of Mikey’s hands and teeth, like he’s performing… and of course he is. And this is why he hasn’t talked about this with Frank, because it’s not a crowd he wants watching him; it’s his brother.
The idea probably shouldn’t turn Frank on as much as it does, but he’s moving into Mikey’s thrusts, clenching around Mikey’s cock, making everything so much better.
“Fuck,” he says. “Your cock. Mikey. It feels so fucking hard.”
Mikey groans, but that’s not what Frank is listening for. At the edge of the room he hears Gerard’s sharp intake of breath.
“Slow down,” he tells Mikey. “I don’t want to rush this.” It’s hard though, and he has to force himself to be still while he kisses Mikey. “Reckon you can make me come without touching me?”
“Slut,” Mikey says, and his voice is fond. “Gonna make it worth my while?”
“Yeah,” Frank says. “Course I will.”
He rides Mikey slow after that, relishing the stretch and burn of it, making sure to angle himself so that the head of Mikey’s cock catches his prostate each time he moves. Mikey is panting into Frank’s neck, his breath damp and desperate, putting on the show he hadn’t bothered with in the club.
It’s dizzying, intoxicating, and he wants more than anything to watch Gerard. He can’t though, not without giving himself away, but if he listens hard enough he’s fairly sure he can hear the movement of flesh against flesh and he shivers, imagining what Gerard looks like getting off.
They don’t know, he realizes. Mikey doesn’t know that Gerard is looking for this. Gerard doesn’t realize that Mikey is performing for him. They don’t know. The thought is too much and he comes, groaning, over Mikey. It’s enough to set Mikey off. He digs his fingers into Frank’s hips and Frank, acting on instinct, pushes his fingers into Mikey’s mouth as he comes. He looks up just in time to see Gerard come as well, his eyes fixed on Frank’s fingers, on his brother’s mouth.
One of the benefits of being on the road – of being successful enough that they can graduate to tour busses – is that there are plenty of opportunities for Frank to exploit this new knowledge.
It helps that the others are looking for it too. Neither Mikey nor Gerard complain when Frank decides that he shares with them on hotel nights, neither of them say a word when he switches bunks so he’s next to them.
He tries to mix it up, though. Lets Gerard watch him suck Mikey off in the confines of his bunk, angles himself so he can watch Gerard watching him when Mikey fucks him in a changing room bathroom, pretends to be asleep with his head on Gerard’s shoulder as Mikey gives him the best hand job of his life… There’s no real pattern to it per se, but it rarely goes more than a few days without Mikey orchestrating something, without Gerard seeking them out, and Frank is getting off on this more and more.
But there’s only so long he can cope. The Ways, fucked up and disgusting as they are, are intoxicating, addictive. And Frank wants more.
He takes his time over it, pondering the details so often he ends up risking RSI with how often he’s getting off.
It needs to be a hotel night, he decides, and he chooses one when there’s a superhero movie out so he can justifiably bribe Ray with beers until he takes Gerard off for the evening. Gerard knows what that means, and it’s possible he lets Mikey believe that the movie starts later than it actually does.
And then he takes his time, spreads Mikey out on the bed and lavishes attention on him in the way that has Mikey squirming away even as he pushes into Frank’s touch. He’s slow and thorough, light touches of fingers, slow brushes of lips, and by the time he hears the door click open and Gerard’s near silent entrance into the room, Mikey is gasping with pleasure, his cheeks stained with a flush that spills down his chest.
“Shhh,” he says and bends back down to lick the length of Mikey’s cock. “Patience is a virtue, Mikeyway, and we don't have to rush.” He takes the head of Mikey’s cock into his mouth and sucks it lightly, before letting it spring free and slap against Mikey’s stomach. He’s been doing this for a while now, and it’s only his hands on Mikey’s hips that are holding Mikey in place.
Mikey loves it like this, he knows. For all that they specialize in quick and dirty, chasing the pleasure at the edge of pain, Mikey wants to be worshipped, and Frank can do that for him – especially here and now.
It doesn’t take long before Mikey is close, close enough that Frank thinks he can ask for what he really wants. He pulls off and manhandles Mikey until he’s kneeling on the bed, his legs wide apart, his weight supported by his elbows and his head hanging down. It’s the perfect position for what Frank wants: it spreads Mikey open for where Gerard is watching from the darkness of the bathroom door and makes it unlikely that Mikey will see Gerard even if he does look up.
“Gonna fuck you,” he says, spreading Mikey apart. “Reckon I can get you wet enough with my tongue?”
Mikey groans, wanton, and Frank takes that for consent, bending down and licking his hole. He loves doing this, loves how intimate and human it is. He licks until Mikey relaxes, licks until Mikey opens up for his tongue with a sigh that does awful things to Frank’s self-control.
One of the things that Frank loves most about this thing with Mikey is how responsive he is, and now, as Frank sinks a finger into him, crooks it, pets over Mikey’s prostate, he feels like he can play Mikey like an instrument.
It would be so easy to lose himself in this, to make love to Mikey like there’s no one watching, and Frank has to fight to keep his head in the game. It’ll be worth it, he knows. One way or another he’s going to shake the lot of them out of their unacknowledged stalemate.
He’s three fingers into Mikey and Mikey is groaning a litany of curses by the time he pulls away.
“Can I fuck you now?” he asks. “Please, Mikey.” He rubs the head of his cock over Mikey’s hole. “I’ll make it so good for you.”
He’s listening for it so he catches the small, broken noise Gerard makes. He’s never fucked Mikey before, not with Gerard watching, and he wonders if Gerard has ever seen his brother being fucked at all.
He hopes not. He wants this to be the first time Gerard sees this, wants it to be burnt into Gerard’s mind forever.
“Yeah,” Mikey says. “Fucking do it, Frankie,” and Frank takes a deep breath, letting the head of his cock slide inside Mikey as he looks up and makes eye contact with Gerard.
“Yeah,” Frank says, smiling even as his voice breaks. “You’re so good, Mikey. So fucking tight. I can feel you squeezing my cock.”
He doesn’t think Gerard is even breathing right now, but neither of them breaks eye contact.
“Gonna come so hard,” he says, and his voice cracks again. “Gonna come so hard in you, you’ll be dripping with it. Gonna have to ride to the next show with my come dripping out of you.” Gerard sags back against the door frame. He looks ruined and that does almost as much for Frank as the tight heat of Mikey’s ass. “You like being filthy for me, don’t you?” He raises an eyebrow at Gerard, can feel the grin that’s lighting up his face. “You’d let everyone know what a little slut you are for me if I asked, wouldn’t you? Gonna sit and have coffee with Gee with my come hot inside you?”
Gerard shivers. He doesn’t look away – can’t seem to look away – but he’s palming his cock through his jeans now, and Frank thrills with it.
“Yeah,” he says, talking to both of them. “Like that. Come on, I want you to come for me.” He sees Gerard hesitate, and reaches around Mikey, takes hold of his cock and lets Mikey thrust through the loose circle of his fist. “I love your cock. I wanna feel you come.”
He knows he’s won when Gerard drops his head. His hands are shaking as he undoes his belt and pants, but when he looks up at Frank again, his eyes are bold and his cheeks are flushed.
All in all, he thinks as he holds a gently snoring Mikey in his arms and looks across at where Gerard is staring at the ceiling, that went way better than expected.
“You get off on this.”
Frank shrugs without looking up from the comic he’s reading. He knew this conversation was coming, but he wouldn’t have picked the gap between soundcheck and going on stage to do it.
Gerard seems to have other plans though, and this is his show, so Frank bites his lip and tries to keep his expression impassive.
It might have been a miscalculation though. Gerard’s frown deepens and he swings himself onto the edge of Frank’s seat.
“I always knew you weren’t good enough for Mikey,” he says, his voice a low hiss, “but getting off on your boyfriend’s brother watching you? That’s low.”
Frank closes his comic carefully and leans in to Gerard.
“Well,” he says, low enough that only Gerard could hear, even if someone else came into the room. “It wasn’t me you were watching, was it?”
Gerard recoils like he’s been slapped. “You’re sick,” he says, his voice shaking. “You think I get off on watching you fuck my brother? And that turns you on?”
Frank shrugs again. Gerard’s face is flushed and his eyes are wild and Frank thinks that if they get to have this conversation without being interrupted he might be one step closer to where he wants to be.
“What’s wrong with that?” he says. “It’s not hurting anyone.”
Gerard shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge an image and he takes a step back.
“It’s sick,” he says again. “Normal people don’t get off on thinking about brothers fucking each other.”
“No?” Frank stands up, gets right in Gerard’s space. “Maybe normal brothers don’t look like you and Mikey.” He reaches up and catches a chunk of Gerard’s hair. Gerard freezes, terrified, like Frank is something savage that will turn on him, but he doesn’t move away and Frank inches forward, letting their bodies press together. “Cuz, yeah. I think about you and Mikey. I think about you sucking him, I think about him coming on your face, I think about you fucking him, I…”
“No.” Gerard is shaking, even though Frank can feel the length of his hard cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t want that.”
“Are you sure?” Frank is on tiptoes now, his breath ghosting against Gerard’s lips as he talks. “You’ve never pictured what it would be like to have him? To feel how hot and willing he is around your cock?”
Gerard makes a broken noise, his eyes drifting shut, and Frank knows he has him.
“You should feel him,” he says, close enough that his lips brush Gerard’s cheek as he talks. “He’s so enthusiastic when he goes down on you. It’s like his mouth was made to suck cock, like…”
The door swings open and Gerard jumps back so there’s a clear foot of space between them.
“Hey,” Mikey says. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah.” Frank manages to school his face into something socially acceptable as he turns around. “Just arguing for another hotel night.”
Mikey’s blush is adorable, and Frank doesn’t try to hold back from kissing him. He might, if he’s being honest, put on a bit of a show, and by the time Mikey pulls back he’s panting, his lips kiss-swollen and beautiful.
“Got time before the show?” Frank asks, pitching his voice so that it’s loud enough for Gerard to hear, low enough for that fact to be deniable if Mikey calls him on it. “I want your mouth. Want to get you all worked up and send you on stage still hard for me.”
“Yeah,” Mikey says, his voice rough. “We can…”
“I’m going to have a shower,” Gerard says, and stalks out, his lips tight.
“What’s rattled his cage?” Mikey sounds confused, and Frank shrugs.
“No idea.” He kisses Mikey, deep and full of promise. “Now didn’t you say something about making me come?”
It’s a perfect plan, and it takes very little suggestion to get Mikey to suck him off in the room next to where Gerard is having a shower, even though the door doesn’t fasten, tends to open if it isn’t propped shut with clothes and shoes. As he comes, he watches Gerard’s face in the mirror, watches how Gerard’s gaze darts between Frank’s face and his brother’s mouth.
“So good,” Frank mouths at Gerard’s reflection, and it’s all Gerard needs apparently. He comes, shuddering, and Frank thinks he looks beautiful.
Gerard knowing changes things.
Frank tries to give him enough space – scaring him off is the last thing he wants – and they don’t get a chance to talk again.
Gerard still watches; sometimes silently, his eyes dark and his expression unreadable, sometimes getting himself off, biting his lips and meeting Frank’s eyes as he spills over his own hand.
It’s better than nothing, but Frank is greedy. He wants more.
It needs something to shift the status quo, to get Gerard to see this for what it is rather than any of the stories he’s probably reciting to himself right now.
But Frank can wait: he’s patient. He’s a scientist here.
He waits till they get home, until he can spread Mikey out on their own bed, blindfold him, finger him open.
It doesn’t take long for Gerard to join them. He hesitates at the doorway until Frank gestures him over. He looks at Mikey, closer to them than Frank’s seen him get, gazing at Mikey like he’s desperate for him.
“You like this,” Frank says, his eyes on Gerard even if Gerard’s too busy looking at Mikey to notice. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Mikey’s voice is high and thready, and Frank twists his fingers so the word ends in a moan.
“How much are you gonna take for me?” Frank kisses Mikey’s hipbone, but his eyes are on Gerard. “You think you can take my whole hand?”
Mikey shudders, his legs falling open a fraction more. “Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah.”
It takes time and patience, but Frank has both of those in spades when he thinks it’s worth his while. Under Gerard’s watchful eyes he sucks Mikey until he’s begging, sliding lube-slick fingers into him, wringing delicious noises out of him that make Gerard bite his hand so he stays quiet, that have Frank’s cock leaping.
“You’re beautiful,” he says at last, four fingers inside Mikey, his thumb teasing the edge of Mikey’s rim. “You open up for me so pretty.”
He reaches for the lube, but it’s Gerard who has it, who hands it to him, his eyes wide and desperate.
“You want this?” he asks, starting to press, and Mikey sobs out yes as Gerard nods, and Frank slides his hand into Mikey, dizzy with lust and at the trust Mikey is showing him.
His head falls forward, and Gerard is there, stroking the hair back off his face.
“Gerard,” Frank says, and Mikey groans louder, his hard cock bouncing against the flat line of his stomach, leaving a smear of pre-come behind. Gerard’s hand freezes on Frank’s face and Frank releases a shuddering breath.
“You want him?” Frank asks, clenching his fingers ever so slightly. “You want him to be watching now?”
“Yes,” Mikey says as if Frank’s wringing the confession from him. “Yes. Is that what you want to hear?”
Frank hums, pressing his lips to Mikey’s cock as he does so.
“You fuck me when you know he’s there,” Frank says. “Do you think he watches?”
“Sometimes.” Mikey’s voice is ruined and he’s clenching around Frank’s wrist, open and desperate. “I want him to watch. I want him to touch me.”
“Yeah.” Frank’s surprised at how rough his own voice is. “Yeah. Watching him touching you, watching him opening you up like this.”
Mikey sobs again, and Frank wishes he had a hand free so he could wipe the tears from under the blindfold.
“It’s okay,” he tells Mikey. “I’ve got you. I know you want him,” he bends down, kisses the head of Mikey’s cock. “I guess I want him too.”
It takes very little after that, just the smallest twist of his wrist, the lightest pressure on Mikey’s cock and Mikey is coming down his throat, salty-bitter and perfect, Gerard’s name on his lips. Gerard is still behind him, his hands gentle on Frank’s shoulders as Frank pulls his hand free, and he only goes when Frank reaches up to remove Mikey’s blindfold, to hold Mikey in his arms and pet his shoulders and back until Mikey is calm and sleepy and Frank can get out of the bed.
“Where are you going?” Mikey asks as Frank opens the bedroom door and the light from the hallway enters the room.
“Just to get you some water,” he says, and Mikey smiles, his eyes falling shut before Frank’s even turned away.
Gerard is waiting for him in the kitchen, and he hands Frank a glass of water silently.
“We okay?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods, his face tight.
“It’s a lot,” he says at last. “I wasn’t only watching Mikey, you know.”
Frank shrugs, because he hadn’t known. Hoping is different to knowing, he’s found out.
“So, what do we do?” he asks instead, and Gerard shakes his head.
“I don’t know.”
They look at each other for a long second, and then Gerard is taking the glass out of Frank’s hand, putting it carefully on the side. He reaches out, slowly, like Frank is going to run away if he makes any sudden movements, runs his knuckles down Frank’s cheek. There’s plenty of time for Frank to move away, to ask Gerard to stop, but he doesn’t – doesn’t want to – and when Gerard finally catches his face in his hands and kisses him, Frank presses into the embrace, opens up for Gerard like this has always been inevitable.
Frank’s breathless by the time Gerard pulls away, desperately aware of his own neglected erection, but Gerard is at the door of the kitchen.
“Tour starts on Friday,” he says. “Give me a few days.”
He hesitates as if he’s going to say more, but he shakes his head in the end and leaves.
Frank stands alone in the dark of the kitchen, and touches his lips for the barest second before picking up the water and going back to bed. He can give Gerard a few days, if that’s what he needs. He pets the soft skin of Mikey’s back. He can give both these boys so much if he only gets the chance.
It’s a curious sort of waiting, the first few days of this leg of tour, and Frank withdraws into himself, crabby and nervous, and not sure why.
It seems his pent up emotions work well on stage though, and by the time they have their first hotel night, a full week into the tour, he’s ready to explode.
He shoves Mikey into their hotel room and kisses him, hot and dirty, and very, very aware of Gerard frozen on the bed behind them.
“I am going to ruin you,” he says to Mikey, loud enough that the words ring in the room and then he turns his head. “And you can get out, or you can watch, but I am doing this now.”
He doesn’t give either of them time to respond, manhandling Mikey onto the bed opposite to Gerard.
“Clothes,” he says, and Mikey swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he looks across at Gerard. For a second Frank thinks he’s misjudged this, but then Mikey pulls his shirt off, a slow, steady movement that hides his face for a beat too long, and lets it drop to the floor, and they are on.
He’s got Mikey’s pants round his thighs and Mikey’s cock halfway down his throat before Mikey gets any further, and Mikey falls back against the bed, groaning loudly.
Mikey’s still watching Gerard, though, and when Frank looks up, Gerard is watching back, his eyes wide and dark, his hands carefully visible despite the bulge in his pants.
“Wanna fuck you,” Frank tells Mikey when Mikey is hard and panting under his mouth. “Wanna fuck you open.” He bites at the soft flesh of Mikey’s thigh, worrying the skin with his teeth, marking him up, making him look down the length of his body at Frank. “Can I?”
“Yeah.” Mikey’s voice is shaking, but he fixes his eyes on Gerard and sucks in a deep breath. “Sometimes he fucks me without stretching me first. Just lube and pressure.”
Gerard swallows convulsively and Frank grins, dark and wicked.
“You gonna watch then? Cuz I’m gonna fuck him now.”
He’s stripping as he speaks and Gerard is watching him, his eyes flicking between Frank and Mikey, but he makes no move to leave.
He still doesn’t leave when Frank pushes Mikey on his side, facing Gerard, moving his legs apart and positioning himself so he can slide into Mikey from behind, so Gerard can see every movement his brother makes.
It’s tight, tight and hot and perfect, and the heat in Gerard’s eyes is making Frank wild. Mikey is panting, pushing back into Frank despite the burn he must be feeling, and Frank reaches around him, runs his hand down Mikey’s stomach.
“He’s been watching you, you know,” he says, and Gerard’s eyes widen in alarm. “All this time, when you’ve been fucking me for him to see, he’s been watching.” He takes hold of Mikey’s cock in a loose fist. “He’s been watching and he’s been getting off on it.”
“Mikey.” Gerard’s voice is ruined. “I…”
“Tell me.” Mikey looks straight at him and even where he is, Frank can see the desperation in Gerard’s eyes. “Tell me what you saw.”
“You.” The answer is instant and Frank has to take a second, to hide his face in the warmth of Mikey’s shoulder, because this is better than he had ever hoped for.
“It’s always been you,” Gerard continues, and Frank can feel how the words affect Mikey, in the tension and clench of his body, in the harsh panting of his breath. “You’re so beautiful, and I know I shouldn’t look, but Mikey…” The words are a bare whisper now. “I can’t look away.”
It’s too much for Mikey and he groans, coming over Frank’s knuckles as his brother watches.
Frank fucks him through it, fucks him until his body turns pliant and over sensitive, and Frank has to tighten his hold to keep him there, because Mikey is moving, helpless not to, trying to escape the sensation. Frank keeps fucking him, deep and hard while Mikey whimpers, fists his hands in the sheets to stop him clawing at Frank’s arms. And through it all, Gerard watches them, and even from here Frank can see how hard he is.
“Now you,” Frank says, and Gerard startles, like he’s forgotten that Frank is really there, that he can interact with him if he wants.
“I…” Gerard blinks, and Frank can almost see him starting to rebuild his walls, can see him telling himself some story about what is appropriate.
It’s Mikey who stops him in his tracks though with a soft “Please”.
“What do you want?” Frank asks, running his teeth over Mikey’s ear, but pitching his voice so Gerard can hear. “Tell us.”
“I wanna watch,” Mikey says, and the honesty in his voice would burn if there was anything good left in Frank. “Let me see? Please?”
Gerard nods, and even though this hands are shaking, he undoes his pants and pulls out his cock.
It’s flushed and red, and Frank watches as hungrily as Gerard takes himself in hand and starts stroking lightly. It’s hardly even a conscious decision; Frank only realizes he’s fucking Mikey in time to Gerard’s strokes when they’re both so close he doesn’t think they can stop. He has to know though.
“Is it good?” he asks Mikey. “Is it like you imagined?”
“Yeah.” Mikey is breathless and his cock is hardening again already in Frank’s loose grip. “So good. Like you’re both fucking me at once.”
The thought of Mikey taking both of them – flushed, panting, spread impossibly open for them – does it for Frank. He lets it wash over him and buries himself deep in Mikey.
When he can open his eyes again, Gerard's carefully wiping his come-stained hands on his jeans, looking anywhere but at them, as if they won’t see if he doesn’t draw attention to himself.
“Are you okay?” he asks when his hands are clean, before their breaths have even had a chance to return to normal. “Are you sore?”
He’s not asking Frank, and it’s like a needle-prick of annoyance. Nothing serious, but enough to notice. And Frank is still in Mikey, his come wet around his cock, and he feels something vindictive coil in his belly.
“You wanna check?” he asks, tightening his hold on Mikey’s hip, ignoring the way Mikey clenches around him at the words. “Cuz you can.”
Gerard hesitates, and looks at them, and Frankie? Well. He’s never been able to back down. He pulls himself free, sees the way Gerard’s eyes widen oh-so-slightly at the noise, and pushes Mikey onto his front.
“C’mon,” he says. “Check.”
He keeps his voice gentle. Gerard is like a skittish animal, and as Frank pulls one of Mikey’s knees to splay his thighs, he’s mostly convinced Gerard is going to scarper.
He doesn’t though. He’s sticky and sweaty, but he comes and sits on the edge of the bed and stares at where Frank has opened his brother up for him.
“Is…” He swallows. Tries again. “Is he okay?”
Frank looks down. Mikey’s ass is swollen, pink, leaking Frank’s come.
“Yeah,” he says. “He’s fine.” He runs a finger across Mikey’s hole, catching at his rim with one of the calluses on his finger, and Mikey trembles, fully hard again now. “You wanna feel?”
Gerard shakes his head, but he’s reaching out regardless, and Frank catches his wrist.
“You’re worried about him,” he says. “It’s fine.”
Gerard’s biting his lip now, and Frank’s grip is gentle on his arm as he guides Gerard’s hand so it catches at the rim of Mikey’s ass.
“I used lube.” His voice is so deep he barely recognizes it. “I used lots, but that’s mostly me.”
Gerard nods, and Frank… Frank’s feeling brave. He tightens his grip and guides Gerard’s fingers into Mikey, and Mikey moans.
“He likes that,” Frank says, low, in Gerard’s ear. “He loves being fingered. You could get him off like that if you wanted to.” Gerard hesitates and Frank uses the moment to push Gerard’s fingers deeper. “Can you feel his prostate?”
He feels the muscles in Gerard’s wrist move as he crooks his fingers, knows he’s found it when Mikey starts trembling.
“Yeah,” he says. “Like that. Give him pressure to rub against and he’ll fuck himself on your hand, won’t you, Mikey?”
Mikey makes an incoherent noise in answer, and pushes himself back until Gerard’s fingers are sunk as deep into him as they can reach. Gerard is flushed, and beautiful, and Frank can almost taste his tension and fear, and just can’t help himself.
“Let me,” he says, and turns Gerard’s face so he can kiss him.
He thinks Gerard is going to fight him, is prepared to do whatever he needs to, but in the end Gerard shudders and melts into the kiss and Frank can feel the slight movements in his arm increase as he rubs Mikey’s prostate over and over. They’re all panting when Frank pulls his mouth away, Mikey most of all, and he takes a moment to feel sorry for the kid. He wasn’t lying when he’d told Gerard how much he liked being touched like this, and he’s being good for them, keeping his arms under himself, not getting himself off without permission.
It’s behaviour that deserves reward and Frank lets himself steal one more kiss from Gerard, fast and biting, before he scoots down the bed, tips Mikey’s face up with one careful finger.
“This okay?” he asks, but he barely waits for Mikey’s nod before he’s kissing him as well, enjoying the familiarity, the contrast to Gerard. “We’re gonna get you off. Gonna make you come so hard you see stars.”
Mikey nods, and Frank sees in the tense line of his shoulders just how close he is already. It would take so little to push him over the edge right now, but a moment like this deserves more than that. So Frank ignores the hard line of Mikey’s cock, at how it’s smearing wetness on the sheets, and scratches up his sides, pinches his nipples until Mikey is twisting and squirming and Frank can’t tell if it’s into or away from his touch.
“Shhh,” he says, and when Mikey stills, obedient even now, he bends his head and licks at Gerard’s fingers, Mikey’s rim.
“God.” Gerard sounds broken and he tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair. Frank hums a response against Gerard’s knuckles, his palm, whatever he can touch without stopping licking Mikey. It’s not going to be enough, he knows, but he knows what turns Mikey on, and he wants him begging before he gets what he needs.
It doesn’t take long. Frank has barely slid his finger in alongside Gerard’s when Mikey cracks.
“Please,” he says, his voice high and thready. “Frank, please.”
“What do you want?” Frank asks, leaning forward so he can speak directly into Mikey’s ear. “Tell me, Mikes.”
“Let me come,” Mikey says. His eyes are wide and when Frank brushes his hair back, his forehead is sweat damp and feverish. It would be cruel to make him wait, Frank thinks, and kisses him, filthy, before pulling back, putting his lips right next to Mikey’s ear.
“Ask Gerard,” he whispers. “Ask him if you can come. If he says yes, I’ll suck you off so good. I promise.”
The words make Mikey’s breath catch and he sobs. “Please,” he says again. “Please, Gee. Can I come?”
It’s enough, and Frank doesn’t make him wait for the answer. He leans down and takes the head of Mikey’s cock in his mouth. Mikey’s wet and hard and so very close that it doesn’t take much. Frank only has the chance to sink his head down once, twice before Mikey’s coming in his mouth, spilling bitter and perfect across Frank’s tongue.
It seems to go on for ages, Gerard’s fingers and Frank’s mouth wringing the sweetest noises from Mikey. Frank keeps sucking until Mikey’s cries change to whimpers, until he’s over-sensitive and fucked out and quivering.
Frank would keep going then, if he could. He loves Mikey like this, pliant and over-stimulated and malleable, but he has things he wants now, more than ever. He kneels up, his mouth still full of Mikey’s come, bitter and warm and delicious, and looks at Gerard, at the faintest flush of shame on his cheeks, at the desire that’s still dark in his eyes. He doesn’t ask, just reaches out and catches the back of his neck, pulls him into a kiss. And Gerard goes into it, willing and eager, and when he tastes Mikey’s come in Frank’s mouth he moans and pulls Frank closer, like he would devour him if he could.
There are moments when Frank realizes how dangerous the game he’s playing is. When he realizes that he’s risking losing his home, his boyfriend, his band, his friends. It’s worth it, he thinks. But it’s a risk, and even as it’s hot and exciting and something he wants on a level he can’t properly articulate, it scares him.
He’s on tenterhooks the next day, for no real reason, nothing he can put his finger on. It makes him grouchy and he holes up on the bus, hiding in his hoodie and behind a comic.
It’s a successful strategy and he sees off Bob and Brian and Ray without having to exert any effort. Honestly he’s not expecting to have to even try with Mikey and Gerard – he suspects they’re as freaked out as he is – so it’s a shock when he’s rudely awakened by Mikey wriggling in next to at the back of the sofa. He doesn’t stand a chance – Mikey is a bony little fucker and uses his elbows in a way that should be banned by the Geneva Convention.
“Ugh,” he says, gracious in defeat and eloquent to the last, and Mikey sniggers.
“You’re sulking,” he says, like it’s that simple. “We’ve noticed.”
“Yeah.” Gerard is less bombastic than Mikey, but he still seems to feel he can pick up Frank’s legs, slide under them, rest them on his thighs. “Got you coffee.”
Frank grunts. It’s not proper compensation for intruding on his Den of Solitude (tm), but he’s not going to turn down coffee, and once they’re there, they don’t seem intent on making him talk, so he lets himself drift back to the dozing nap he was indulging in earlier while the miles slip past outside.
When he next opens his eyes, it’s dark. Gerard has slumped down on the seat, unattractive in sleep but still drawing Frank’s eyes like he’s a magnet.
“You like him.”
Frank starts at the words. They’re the smallest whisper, and for a second he’s frightened, feels caught out by them. But Mikey sounds thoughtful rather than angry, and his fingers are gently stroking through Frank’s hair, so Frank forces himself to relax, to take a breath before he answers.
“Yeah,” he says at last, weighing the word as he says it for truth. “But I like you too.”
“I know.” Mikey increases the pressure against Frank’s scalp. “Is that enough?”
“Dunno.” Frank feels like he needs to be honest here. “I want it to be.”
“Yeah. But he’ll fall in love with you, you know. If you let him.”
Mikey’s tense now, and there’s a tightness to his voice that Frank hadn’t expected to hear. He cranes his neck so he can see Mikey properly. “Is that bad? He loves you already.”
Mikey shrugs. “It’s not the same.” His mouth is pinched, and Frank realizes that maybe he’s worried that Frank will replace him.
It’s the last thing Frank wants and he reaches up and pets blindly at Mickey’s arm. “It could be,” he says, trying to be impassive, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. “Your brother’s amazing, you know. I’m sure he can love more than one person at once.”
“Do I get a say in this?” Gerard is watching them both now, though Frank’s not sure when he woke up, and his mouth is twisted into a fond half-smile.
“Depends.” Frank fixes him with stare. “What are you going to say?”
Gerard rubs Frank’s ankle, but his eyes are on Mikey. “I do love you, Mikes. And if you don’t want to do this,” he gestures at Frank, at himself in a vague, flappy gesture, “then we won’t. I just want you to be happy.”
“You’ll leave with him,” Mikey says, small enough that they have to strain to hear him. “I’ll be all on my own.”
“Maybe.” Gerard’s quirked his head to the side, watching Mikey with bright eyes. “Maybe he’ll leave both of us. Maybe you’ll decide I’m an unnecessary complication and I’ll be left on my own.” He reaches out and takes Mikey’s hand in his. “Nothing’s ever certain, Mikes. There’s gotta be a risk you’ll get hurt, or it isn’t love.”
They’re quiet then, and Frank can’t tear his eyes away from their hands, how their fingers are linked together like they were made for it. He blinks and lets his head fall back on Mikey’s thigh, keeping his eyes closed until he feels a hand on his face.
“Hey.” Gerard is looking at him, his expression soft. “C’mere, Frankie.”
He looks at Mikey, waits for him to nod before he sits up, lets Gerard position him on his knee.
“Frankie,” Gerard says, and kisses him, too gently and too slowly and too tenderly, until Frank feels like he might fall apart under Gerard’s hands.
“Yeah,” he says at last when he pulls free. “Yeah.” He catches Gerard’s lip with his thumb, letting it drag down while Gerard watches him with wide, fathomless eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” Mikey says, and he sounds awed, looks blown away when Frank looks around. “You make sense together.”
“Maybe.” Frank rests his forehead to Gerard’s, smiles at Mikey. “I make sense with you too though.”
“Yeah?” Mikey probably doesn’t mean to sound as unsure as he does, and it kinda breaks Frank. He gestures and Mikey sits up, lets Frank catch his head.
“Of course,” Frank says, and kisses him, his mouth still stinging from Gerard’s, his breath still tasting of Mikey’s brother.
It could change from here, Frank knows, but there’s a noise from the bunk and they break apart, guilty as schoolboys caught by their moms.
“Later,” Gerard says. “We can wait.”
“For days,” Mikey says, petulant and open like he never normally allows himself to be.
“Worth it,” Frank tells them, looking between them, at the study in contradictions, at the resonances that he can see. “Trust me.”
Waiting has never been Frank’s strong point, and the next few days kinda feel like they’re endless.
He feels less restricted somehow. Like he can touch, can kiss, if he wants to. And it’s dizzying. As if Mikey and Gerard are passing him backwards and forwards between them like a party favour, like he’s nothing but a conduit between them. He should be insulted; instead he’s turned on by it until he’s rubbing off against one or other of them in changing rooms and backstage. Mad moments before going on, after coming off. It’s like a fever dream.
He doesn’t know how he survives.
“Yeah,” he says, breathless in the elevator up to their room when they finally get a hotel night. “Like that. Please.”
Mikey is kissing him, fervent and serious, and is pressing him back into Gerard, and for once, Frank isn’t sure that he’s in control of this.
He’s not sure he wants to be either, not when Mikey steers him bodily to their room, when Gerard catches his wrists, pulls them behind his back, lays him open for Mikey.
“What d’you think?” Mikey asks, and Frank realizes with a shudder of pleasure that he’s talking to Gerard. “How do you want him?”
“You tell me.” Gerard’s voice is rough in Frank’s ear, his fingers tightening convulsively around Frank’s wrists. “You know what he’s best at.”
“His mouth.” Mikey steps close, thumbs at Frank’s bottom lip, smiles when Frank opens up, catches his thumb between his teeth. “His fucking mouth, Gee. You got to try it.”
“Yeah.” Gerard shifts, pulling Frank closer to him, until Frank can feel how hard he is. “We can do that. Anything else?”
“He cries.” Mikey runs his fingers over Frank’s cheek, his eyes taking everything in, but it’s like Frank isn’t there, like he’s a picture or a memory that Mikey is sharing with his brother. “If you fuck him after he comes, fuck him hard, he cries and it’s the prettiest thing.”
“Let’s do it,” Gerard says, and he’s turning Frank around, staring at him like he’s a problem to be solved. “Strip him for me, Mikes.”
It shouldn’t be a turn on to be used like this, but Frank is beyond justifying himself now. He’s too hot, too turned on already, and even though Mikey’s is efficient, almost impersonal as he strips him, he can feel Gerard’s eyes on him, like his gaze has weight, and by the time he’s naked, he’s fully hard.
“He’s gorgeous,” Gerard says, an edge of awe to his voice and Mikey laughs.
“You have no idea. You think you’ve seen him before? But you never felt him, Gee. He’s so hot and eager and filthy.” Mikey trails his fingers down Frank’s chest and Frank arches into the touch, moaning.
“Yeah,” Gerard says, his hands already on his belt, pulling it open. “Yeah, show me, Mikes.”
Mikey is slow and thorough. He’s learned the secrets of Frank’s body over months now, and he’s laying them out for Gerard to see, one by one. He bites at Frank’s neck, at where it joins the muscle of his shoulder, until Frank is cursing, bucking under his hands, until it marks. He pinches Frank’s nipples, pulling them too hard, too far, and it’s perfect. He scratches Frank’s stomach, sides again and again, harder and harder, bracketing Frank’s body with his, catching his arms as he tries to flail himself free, letting it become a wrestling match, forcing Frank down by his hair until Frank is spread out at Gerard’s feet like an offering.
And still he keeps on, turning Frank like he’s a model, a doll, nothing more nor less than an instrument on which he show his skill. And as Frank moves, compliant as he can be now and so fucking turned on, he can see that Mikey isn’t watching him at all: his attention is fixed on Gerard.
“Wait,” he says, and Mikey’s hands stumble, slow. “Want your skin.”
Mikey swallows and he looks at Frank, finally, his eyes hooded and heavy.
“Is he always like this?” Gerard asks, and Mikey nods.
“Such a slut,” he says, like it’s a prayer, a hymn. “He gets off on being touched, on being close to you.”
“Yeah.” The word is nearly a gasp and Gerard is watching both of them and he runs his hands down his body. Frank doesn’t think he’s aware he’s even doing it. “We should give him what he needs.”
He pulls his shirt up as he’s speaking, stripping himself, but he hesitates, swallows before he drops it to the floor, and the look he shoots Mikey is furtive, shy.
Mikey is watching him with wide eyes, though, like he’s won the lottery and Frank can feel the tension in his body.
“And you,” Frank says, gentle, and Mikey snaps back to the present, looking at Frank, running his tongue over his lips before he reaches for the hem of his own shirt.
“The two of you,” Frank says, quiet, awed, as they strip. “Jesus.”
He’s intoxicated by it, by the splay of Gerard’s limbs as he sits back on his chair, by the heavy line of his hard cock. By the warmth of Mikey behind him, his sweat-slick skin. They’re watching each other, furtive glances, the color high on both their cheeks, and Frank? Frank can do something about that.
He leans back on Mikey, lets his head fall back onto his shoulder, drapes his body so Gerard can look at him, see Mikey. Mikey’s breath catches, and he runs his hands over Frank’s torso even though his eyes are fixed on Gerard now. He doesn’t even seem to notice when Gerard mirrors the movement on his own body, but Frank does.
“Can I suck him?” His eyes are fixed on Gerard but his words are for Mikey. “Please, Mikes. Say yes.”
“Do it slow,” Mikey says. “Like when you sucked me in Chicago. Make it last.”
Frank nods, crawls over to Gerard on all fours. “Tell me how, Mikes,” he says, close enough that his breath ghosts over Gerard’s cock, makes it jump.
“God.” There’s the rustle of movement, then the heat of Mikey behind him. “Kiss his cock.”
Frank does, lingering kisses that start at the base, trail up to the head. He pauses there, lips gently resting on it, mouth open. Gerard’s tense under him, forcing himself to be still, Frank thinks.
“Use your tongue,” Mikey says in his ear, and oh, slips his fingers down to Frank’s ass, trailing around his rim. “Make it good for him, Frankie.”
Because you can’t, Frank thinks and does it. He fixes his eyes on Gerard’s and worships his cock like Mikey wants, lets everything he feels about this show on his face, and Gerard groans, overwhelmed.
He’d lose himself in this if he could, but Mikey doesn’t let him. He fists his hands in Frank’s hair, forces him to go slow, notices before Frank when Gerard is close, makes him pull off to bury his head between Gerard’s thighs, to mark his skin with bites and kisses, to suck at Gerard’s balls until he pulls away, panting. And all the time his fingers are working Frank open, stretching him and making him slick and ready for his brother.
“You ready to fuck him?” Mikey asks, his eyes fixed on Frank’s lips, and Frank nods, leans in and kisses Mikey, tasting his desperation.
He climbs up on Gerard, kneels astride him and looks down at Mikey, over his shoulder. “Lend a hand, would you, Mikey?”
Mikey’s eyes widen, but he nods and reaches out, takes Gerard’s cock in his hand and positions it so that Frank can sink down on it. He keeps his hand there though, even when Frank is stretched as wide as he can be around Gerard, sunk down as far as he can.
“Ready?” Frank asks Gerard and waits for Gerard’s shaky nod before he starts to move.
He’s not moving much, he can’t like this, but he’s undulating as best he can, fucking himself on Gerard’s cock like he can’t get enough of it. Gerard’s moaning under him, his fingers digging into the softness of Frank’s hips, guiding him backwards and forwards, trying to get deeper, like he’s going to crawl into Frank.
It’s everything Frank wanted from this, everything he’s fantasized that their first time would be, except as Gerard is kissing him, Mikey is biting his shoulder, and this is better than Frank could ever have hoped.
“Frankie,” Gerard pants, and his voice is so open, so honest that Frank can’t. He rests his forehead against Gerard’s, lets their breaths combine until he can’t tell them apart.
He can feel everything like this, and he’s too close, knows he won’t last, and Mikey knows him, knows this.
“Such a little slut,” he says and shifts his hand. There’s a moment of uncomfortable pressure before he slides two fingers into Frank alongside Gerard’s cock, but then everything is stretched and Mikey is wicked and Frank just can’t. He comes, shuddering, in stripes that coat Gerard’s belly, grinding down on Gerard’s cock and Mikey’s hand until he’s wrung out.
“Gee.” Mikey’s voice is wrecked. “Pull out. I gotta…”
Gerard groans; he’s still hard, hasn’t come yet, but he does, and Mikey doesn’t hesitate – he shoves into Frank hard, rocking him forward on his knees so he has to catch himself on Gerard’s shoulders.
Mikey loves to fuck him like this, when he’s orgasm-opened and relaxed. He fucks him hard and deep, catching his arms and pulling them behind him. It leaves Frank helpless, all he can do it take it, even as each thrust rubs against his prostate, makes him squirm with that inescapable pleasure-pain that’s unique to being fucked like this. It’s pushing him against Gerard as well, and Gerard is thrusting his cock against Frank’s stomach, moving slickly through the come and the sweat there. His eyes are wide and desperate, and his hands are tight enough on Frank’s waist that it almost hurts, and Frank can’t forget where he is, who he’s with right now.
“You’re right,” Gerard says, tracing a finger down Frank’s cheek and licking it. “He’s so pretty when he cries, Mikes.”
“Yeah.” Mikey is breathless now, his hips snapping fast, and Frank knows he’s close. “He comes apart so good.”
Gerard groans and mouths at Frank’s neck, his face. “I can feel you fucking him,” he says, quiet, like it’s a confession, and Frank looks at him, knows that he and Mikey are staring at each other.
“You should fuck me together,” Frank says, and Mikey groans. “Next time. You should both fuck me.”
It’s too much for Mikey and he tightens his hold on Frank’s hips and comes inside him as Gerard watches.
Frank’s slick and open by the time Mikey pulls out, and Gerard makes a helpless noise.
“Please,” he says, looking at Frank like he can answer prayers, and Frank is helpless, he’s sore and sensitive, but he sinks down on Gerard’s cock again, riding him until Gerard comes in him, leaves him dripping.
Afterwards they both look after him, all careful hands and gentle touches. Mikey washes his hair in the shower, Gerard dries him off like he’s something precious. They climb into bed together, Frank the no man’s land that makes things safe, but their hands and legs are tangled together and Frank feels like they’re on the verge of something.
“Next time,” Gerard says, just before they drift off to sleep and Mikey hums.
“Next time,” he agrees, and Frank can only smile, secret and happy, in the dark.
The problem with next time is that it’s too damn far away. And Frank is trying so damn hard to be good.
There are moments – he fucks Gerard in his bunk, fast and dirty, while Mikey watches, and it’s everything he’d hoped it would be for the years that he’d thought of it. He sucks Mikey off, narrating what he’s doing the whole while, telling a wide eyed Gerard what Mikey likes best. But it’s not the same. He’s greedy and he wants the both of them, wants to take them apart, away from the judging eyes of the world.
By the time they get to their hotel on the next free night, Frank is desperate. He’s stripping as soon as he’s through the door, naked by the time he gets to the bed, and is pulling clothes from Gerard and Mikey at random, craving skin and touch and intimacy.
The relief is so great that he can’t do much to begin with, just presses himself as close to the two of them as he can.
He lets himself luxuriate in it for a few minutes, the heat, the closeness, and pretends he doesn’t notice Mikey sniggering to himself.
“Shut up,” he says at last, and Mikey tightens his arms around him.
“Why?” he asks. “Is it spoiling the romance?”
Frank makes a wordless noise of disgust and burrows closer into Gerard.
“Poor boy.” Gerard sounds like he’s laughing as well, but if Frank doesn’t open his eyes then he can’t see for sure. “You want romance, Frankie?”
Right at the moment, Frank kinda does, but he can’t bring himself to say it. He mouths at Gerard’s shoulder instead, worrying the skin with his teeth.
It makes Gerard laugh, and he pulls Frank onto him.
“Hey, Mikes,” he says, his voice rumbling through Frank as he speaks. “Should we give him what he wants?”
Mikey hums and pets Frank’s hair. “But what does he want? First he says he wants both of us to fuck him. Now he wants romance. I dunno, Gee.”
“We can do both,” Gerard says. “You’ll let us, won’t you, Frankie?”
Frank blinks, takes a second to think of it, of Gerard and Mikey pressing into him, holding him, filling him and surrounding him.
“Yeah,” he manages to say. “Please.”
“Good boy.” Gerard presses his fingers into his scalp, rubs until Frank shudders and relaxes. “You’re going to be so good for us, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” The word is dragged from Frank, unwillingly. “And you’ll both fuck me, won’t you?”
“You still want that?” Gerard asks, his voice careful, and Frank nods.
“Yeah.” He stretches his back, pushes his ass into Gerard’s hands. “Want both of you in me together. Want to feel you fucking me, stretching me.” He bites at Gerard’s jaw. “You will, won’t you?”
Gerard swallows convulsively. “Can he take that?” he asks and it’s only when Frank feels Mikey’s hand in his hair that he realizes the question wasn’t addressed to him.
“Maybe,” Mikey says. “We’d need to stretch him first.”
Gerard hums and Frank knows, without bothering to open his eyes, that they’re having one of their silent conversations, whole screeds of meaning conveyed in eyebrow raises and grimaces.
He sighs with relief when he feels one of Mikey’s hands on his hip, feels the fingers of his other hand slick with lube running around his ass.
“Please,” he says, because he’s beyond having any shame right now, and he spreads his legs to give Mikey better access.
He can’t help it. When Mikey starts fingering him, slow and thorough, he starts moaning and Gerard makes a broken noise.
“Frankie,” he says, his eyes wide and desperate. “You sound…”
“Kiss him.” Mikey’s voice is warm and serious. “Kiss the noises out of him, Gee. It feels so good, trust me.”
Gerard kisses him, deep and thorough, and Frank realizes that this, this is how he would kiss Mikey if he could. The thought makes him reckless, and he lets go, pushing back into Mikey’s fingers, letting himself moan, uncensored and unthinking into Gerard’s mouth.
It takes too long. Frank wants them in him now, but Mikey won’t be rushed. He’s slow and methodical and uses more lube than Frank thought they owned. It’s slick enough that Frank gets to three fingers before he even feels the stretch, and even then it’s not what he wants, not enough.
“C’mon,” he says, pulling away from Gerard just enough that he can talk. “I’m ready?”
“Really?” Mikey’s voice is wry in his ear and it makes him shiver. “You’re ready to have Gee and me fuck you together? You think you can manage that?”
It’s a challenge and Frank has never met a challenge he didn’t like. He swings himself off Gerard and gestures at Mikey.
“Lie down,” Frank says, and Mikey does, his lips quirking slightly as he lines himself up next to Gerard. There’s still a careful line of space between them though, and a tension between them that he wants to erase.
He doesn’t have the words though, has nothing but how he feels, so he leans forward, starts stroking their cocks lightly in unison.
“Not so big,” he says and ducks his head to hide his smile at the twin noises of outrage they make. Because it’s kind of a lie – they’re not porn stars, but they have nothing to complain about and, well, together… Frank probably does need to be stretched more.
For now, though, he has other things to do. They can’t keep their eyes off each other, and as Frank leans in to lick the length first of Mikey’s cock, then Gerard’s he can see how Gerard’s hand is twitching, how he’s stopping himself from reaching out to Mikey.
“Move closer,” he says, his voice low, as gentle as he can make it. “I want to suck you both.” They hesitate, looking at each other, and he sighs. “Dudes, you are going to be fucking me together in a minute.” Mikey raises an eyebrow at him like so and he bites back a laugh. “Your cocks are going to be rubbing together inside me. Putting your arm around Gee now is fairly fucking tame in comparison.”
And yeah, it might be tame, but he has his hands on their cocks, and he can feel how closing that last gap between them affects them. He’s not going to help anything by pointing that out, so he just gets on with it, sucking them both alternately until they are both panting, until Mikey hooks his leg over Gerard’s and pulls them close enough together that Frank can mouth at both of their cocks at once.
“God,” Gerard says, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, Frankie. Like that.”
Mikey doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are wide and dark as he traces a finger over Frank’s cheek, over the bulge in it made by Gerard’s cock.
By the time Gerard tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair and forces his head up, they’re pressed together, sweaty and flushed. Mikey has his arm around Gerard’s shoulders and is dragging his fingers absently over the top of Gerard’s chest. Frank looks at them, at the picture they make, and licks his lips.
“No,” Gerard says, his eyes tracking the movement of Frank’s mouth. “I want to fuck you, Frankie.”
“So, do it,” Frank says, and Gerard laughs before reaching out and dragging him down onto them.
“Need to stretch you,” he says, his fingers drifting down to the curve of Frank’s ass. “You gonna let us?”
“Probably not,” Mikey says, and he catches Frank’s wrists, pinning him to the bed. “Though I don’t see why we should wait for him.”
Gerard hums thoughtfully and pushes Frank’s legs apart.
“I should make you ask for this,” he says, putting slick fingers at the entrance to Frank’s ass, “but… later.” He bites his lips and slides two fingers into Frank and Frank hisses, arching his back, tugging against Mikey’s hands just for the pleasure of feeling their grip.
Gerard’s rougher than Mikey was, and he bites. By the time he’s four fingers into Frank, Frank’s stomach and thighs are covered in marks and Mikey is holding him in place against his body, stroking the hair back off his forehead and muttering nonsense endearments in his ear.
“Is four enough?” Gerard asks Mikey and they both ignore Frank’s frantic yes.
“Maybe,” Mikey says, and manhandles Frank onto his front, forcing his thighs further apart, exposing him fully to them. “Here.”
Frank feels the cold slide of lube against him and then hands starting to touch him, forceful and thorough.
He’s confused, dizzy with sensation, until the pieces slide into place in his mind and he realizes they’re both fingering him together, and he drops his head to the pillow, moaning and pushing back into them.
He’s never felt as exposed as this, as seen and he thinks he would run away from the sensation if he could. But in the end it’s gentle fingers on the small of his back – Mikey’s he guesses – and a loose hold around his ankle (Gerard), that keep him grounded, keeps him there.
When they finally stop, Frank feels more open than he’s ever felt. He’s slick and filthy and loose enough that he thinks he’ll be able to take them both right now. And he’s turned on – his cock is hard and leaking precome against his stomach – but that is almost lost in the sensation of the moment.
He pushes Gerard onto his back, climbs onto him and sinks down in one fluid movement that has them both moaning. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”
He takes a second to orientate himself, to find his centre again, and then he looks over his shoulder, at where Mikey is waiting, his eyes wide, his hand resting on his cock like it’s an afterthought.
“Come on,” he says, and Mikey is moving towards him, predatory and graceful, until he’s pressed to the line of Frank’s back, biting at his neck and breathing hotly into his ear.
“You want this?” Mikey asks, but it’s Gerard who nods.
“Yeah,” he says, reaching out to touch Mikey’s hand where it’s resting on Frank’s bicep. “Yeah, I do.”
Mikey sucks in a shuddering breath and Frank feels him line himself up. Frank closes his eyes, lets himself feel – the way that Mikey presses his cock into Gerard’s, the stretch and burn as they push into him together, slow and inevitable, like this has always been meant to happen.
It’s a blur after that – heat and friction that brings all their barriers crashing down. Frank kisses Gerard, open mouthed and desperately breathing into him, turns his head and kisses Mikey, frantic now, and it’s still not what he needs.
“Please,” he whines, “please.”
“What is it?” Gerard says. He’s wild-eyed, clearly struggling to hold himself in check, but he pulls his hand free from Mikey’s and reaches up to cup Frank’s face. “What do you want, love?”
“Please.” Frank pushes his burning face into Gerard’s palm. “Kiss each other. Kiss Mikey.”
Mikey sobs, his hands tightening on Frank’s waist, but Gerard shakes his head.
“We can’t,” he says, his voice wretched and desperate. “You know we can’t.”
“You can,” Frank says, because he has to make them understand this. “Gee, You're already touching him. Fuck. I can feel your cocks sliding together inside me.... Kissing is nothing.”
Gerard shakes his head again, but Frank can feel how close he is to changing his mind when Mikey reaches out, rests his fingers on Gerard’s lips.
“Mikey,” Gerard says and, as he opens his mouth to speak, Mikey slides his fingers past his lips and he moans.
“Yes,” Frank says, and he leans forward to bite at Gerard’s jaw. “Gee, please.”
He feels the breath that Gerard takes, feels it through his ribs and stomach, feels it in his bones, and then Mikey is pressing forward leaning over Frank’s shoulder and kissing Gerard.
It’s gentle, almost chaste until Gerard’s lips part on a sigh, and Mikey presses forward, catches his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s a move he’s used a hundred times on Frank, that Gerard’s watched him use a hundred times as well, and as Mikey bites, sucks, pulls, Gerard groans, helpless and comes.
The feeling of him swelling and thrusting is all that Frank needs. He’s been so close for so long, and coming feels like an afterthought, a side note to everything else that’s happening, and it leaves him trembling, so caught up in how his body feels that he almost misses Mikey coming.
They lie together afterwards, waiting for their breath to return to normal, not moving more than the soft stroking of hands over skin. Frank can feel them both still inside him, softening and slippery, can feel their sweat-slick bodies against his, can feel Gerard petting the length of Mikey’s spine. It’s perfect and he doesn’t want it to end. He’s blissed out now, pliant and happy, but the thing that makes him happiest is the way Gerard is holding him and Mikey close, not bothering to hide it, and when they roll over, separate, they way their limbs remain tangled together, the kiss that Mikey drops on Gerard’s shoulder.
He’s sore the next morning, but in a good way, like he’s achieved something important with his body, and he’s awake before the others.
Their hands are linked together in sleep, pinning him still between them, but he’s not sure he’d move even if he could. It’s where he wants to be, after all.
Mikey wakes up next. Frank can feel the stillness as he takes everything in, works out what’s happening, where he is, who he needs to be before he even opens his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, as quiet as he can, and Mikey finally opens his eyes, smiles at him sleepy and unguarded.
“Yeah,” he says, and he runs his hand down the side of Frank’s face. “I’m great.”
“You are.” Frank kisses his palm. “And it’s okay, you know?”
Mikey’s face scrunches and he can’t stop his eyes from flicking to Gerard. “Maybe,” he says, but there’s a thread of doubt to his voice now that Frank would move heaven and earth to remove.
He gets coffee first though. Any plan involving Gerard and a morning needs to involve coffee, and by the time he gets back to the room balancing three paper cups, Gerard is awake. He’s still in bed with Mikey, but they’re back to maintaining the careful line of distance between them.
“Coffee,” he says, manfully ignoring the elephant in the room, trying to force it into non-existence by willpower alone. “And there’s some muffins in my pocket.”
Really, he thinks as he looks at the twin sets of grabby hands. His boys have a bit of a coffee problem.
It makes him feel fond, though. Fond enough that he waits for them to finish the coffee before he pulls off his hoodie.
“Right,” he says, hoping that his voice doesn’t betray how he’s feeling. “I’m too sore to fuck either of you this morning, so I’m gonna show Gee what you like, Mikes, then he’s going to fuck you for me.”
“What?” Gerard is gaping unattractively, and the asshole part of Frank wishes he’d waited until he’d been drinking that last mouthful of coffee to say it. “But, Frankie…”
“Shhhhhh.” He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his finger on Gerard’s lips. “It’s okay, Gee. You both want this, and if you don’t do it, well…” he shrugs. “You’re both going to be miserable.”
“Both?” There’s a ridiculous amount of hope to Gerard’s tone, and Frank nods his head.
“Yeah,” he says. “Both. Tell him, Mikes.”
“He’s right.” The words are small, and Gerard turns towards his brother, concern writ large on his features. “No.” Mikey holds up a hand. “Let me talk. I get that this is wrong, or sick, or something, but I want it.” He bites his lip, looks up from under his lashes. “I’m sorry, Gee. I never meant to make this bad for you.”
“Mikes.” Gerard forgets about the stupid no man’s land between them and pulls Mikey into a hug, clinging to him. “It’s not bad, and it’s not wrong.” He kisses Mikey’s temple. “I just don’t want to pressure you into anything. I’m older than you. I should be looking after you.”
“This doesn’t stop you,” Frank says, and they both look at him, ridiculously hopeful. “It just makes it different.”
“Different?” Gerard chokes back a laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Mikey laughs, shaky, at that, and buries his face in Gerard’s shoulder and Frank can see the tension drain from both of them.
“You gonna talk us through this then?” Mikey asks, reaching out and flailing until Frank takes his hand. “You gonna watch?”
“Won’t be able to look away,” Frank promises him and leans in so he can kiss both of them, one after the other, trying to show them the things he can’t say with words.
They’re both dark-eyed when he pulls away, and Mikey is stroking Gerard’s back. It’s a soothing gesture and it makes Frank smile to see it.
“He likes it when you cup his face as you kiss him,” he tells Gerard. “He acts like he’s this slut, like he gets off on anything, but he wants to feel loved.”
“Yeah.” Gerard takes Mikey’s face in his hands, his eyes flicking over it, seeking permission before he moves. “I’ve seen how he is when you do this for him.”
“Kiss him gentle,” Frank says, scrunching himself up on the end of the bed so he can watch without being in the way. “Start with light kisses. Wait till he’s pushing against you before you kiss him properly.”
Mikey fixes him with a look, but as he opens his mouth to say something, Gerard leans in and kisses him, gentle as a whisper, on his upper lip. “Mikes,” he says, his voice rough, and then he leans in again, holding Mikey’s face hard enough that Frank can see the pressure in his fingers from where he’s sitting. “Please.”
Mikey’s eyelids flutter shut and Gerard takes that as permission. He ghosts his mouth over Mikey’s with such exquisite care that Frank feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Mikey moans, tries to push forward, but Gerard doesn’t let him. Instead he does as Frank asked, teases Mikey with only the gentlest of kisses until Mikey is flushed and wild-eyed and Gerard tears himself away to look at Frank.
“Yeah,” Frank says in a voice he barely recognizes. “Yeah. Now.”
He should feel jealousy, or guilt, or disgust as he watches them kiss. Something other than the searing heat he actually feels. Gerard is so fucking gentle with Mikey, but Frank can see how much he wants it, how he’s not trying to hide from this any more. And Mikey. He’s wide-eyed and half mad; ready to fly apart with the right pressure, the right touch. And Frank can help with that, will help with that. Will show Gerard what to do, and it thrills him.
Still, there is time for that later, and for now he wants to watch, every bit as much as they want to do this. All three of them have been waiting, after all, even if he hasn’t waited for as long, wanted as much. And even now, when they are finally letting themselves feel, he can see the constraint, can feel the residue of the tension.
Mikey seems unsure what to do with his hands, and it is Frank who moves forwards, takes hold of his wrists gently, puts them on Gerard’s back. It feels less intrusive than he imagined it would, and they’re warm and so close, so he stays there, watching with hungry eyes until the moment when Gerard breaks the kiss, turns his head and runs his lips up the side of Frank’s face, gentle as a breath.
“What now?” he asks, and Frank shivers.
“Get naked,” he says. “You first, then strip him.” He looks at Mikey, at his kiss-swollen lips and the flush rising high on his cheekbones. “He wants to be touched. Wants to be held. Skin to skin.”
Gerard licks his lips. They’re chapped, Frank notices, a tiny, human imperfection that just enhances his otherworldly beauty. He’s about to reach out, to run his finger over them when Gerard moves, shrugs his t-shirt off and hesitates for the barest second before he strips his shorts down his thighs and drops them to the floor.
It’s the first time that Frank has ever had a chance to properly look at Gerard, without Mikey’s hands on him, without the promise of Gerard blurring his vision, and he’s beautiful. For someone who prizes his own tattoos so highly, Frank has always been oddly fascinated by the unmarked paleness of Gerard’s skin. It’s like a canvas – something Frank wants to mess up, to leave his mark on, with teeth and blood and come. Mark it as his.
He wants to stop, wants to look, but this isn’t about him, not right now. “Go on,” he says. “Take Mikey’s shirt off.”
Gerard nods, and reaches out to tug at the bottom of Mikey’s shirt.
“May I?” he asks, and Mikey looks at Frank, his eyes wide, before he nods.
Mikey looks at Frank again when he’s naked.
“Hold me,” Mikey says and Frank hesitates.
“This isn’t about me,” Frank says, and Mikey smiles.
“No, it’s about me,” Mikey says. “And I want you to hold me.” He moves forward on the bed and gestures behind him. And Frank can only be just so good, can only resist temptation to a point. He moves around behind Mikey, spreads his legs and pulls Mikey between them, manhandling him until he’s comfortable, until Frank can hold him down, control him.
“Better?” he asks, and he feels Mikey nod. “Such a good boy.” Gerard is kneeling in front of Mikey, his eyes wide, and Frank smiles at him. “Come on then,” he says, stretching Mikey’s arms out in a parody of a crucifixion. “Stroke his chest.”
Gerard moves forward and runs the pads of his fingers gently down Mikey’s chest, from his shoulder blades down around his pecs. His touch is so gentle, and Frank can feel Mikey straining, trying to push up for more.
“Use your nails,” Frank says, and Mikey gasps, breathless.
Gerard’s nails are short, and he’s careful – too careful if you ask Frank – but he listens to Mikey, responds to the beautiful broken noises he makes. And he’s covering Mikey’s skin with a tracing of lines, white turning to pink turning to red, like Mikey is a canvas or a project, something that has his full focus.
“His nipples.” Gerard’s eyes blink shut as Frank says the words and it’s like a curl of pleasure in Frank’s stomach. “Suck them.”
Gerard nods, and bends down. He braces his weight on his arms, his hands splayed wide on the bed either side of where Frank’s legs wrap around Mikey’s thighs.
Frank feels the first touch of Gerard’s lips like an electric shock. Mikey bucks, but Frank is a tenacious bastard and doesn’t give up that easy. He holds on, forces Mikey back into his body, forces him to accept whatever Gerard wants to do.
“Easy,” he says, and kisses Mikey’s temple, tasting sweat and tears. “Let him do this.”
He wants to kiss Mikey now, kiss him properly, taste the noises he’s making, but he doesn’t dare let go of Mikey’s wrists to turn his face. He needs some degree of control here, and Mikey is the only thing he has a prayer of mastering right now.
Well… Mikey and Gerard, of course.
He’s already got his legs wrapped around Mikey’s, pulling them apart, but he finally lets go of one of Mikey’s wrists to pull Gerard up by the hair.
“Push his legs apart,” he says. “Spread them wide.”
Gerard doesn’t nod; Frank is holding his hair too tightly for that, but Frank can feel as he shoves Mikey’s thighs apart, laying him wide open for them both.
“That’s perfect,” Frank says. “You’re so good for me.” And he’s talking to them both right now, because they really, really are. “He likes it when you touch him there.”
“Where?” Gerard sounds wrecked, and there are so many things Frank could say to this, but faced with how Gerard looks he really can’t.
“His thighs,” he says instead. “Gently first, like you did with his chest. Just keep it light until he’s ready.”
“Ready?” Gerard asks, but he’s already touching Mikey, feather soft strokes that are making Mikey squirm.
“Until his cock is hard enough that it’s jumping,” Frank says, though he suspects that Gerard doesn’t need him to say this, not with how Mikey is reacting. “Until you see the precome on his stomach.”
Gerard swallows, the noise too loud for what it is, and his eyes are fixed on Mikey’s cock as he moves his hands.
He waits though, just like Frank told him to, until Mikey is begging for it, a string of broken half-words and pleas that have Frank hard enough to come untouched if he concentrated on them. He doesn’t though, he watches instead as Gerard concentrates on every stroke of his fingers, every scrape of his nails, watches as Mikey becomes a sweat-drenched wreck for him.
“He wants you to touch his balls,” Frank says at last, when it would be cruel to let Mikey suffer any more, and Gerard nods like this was the conformation he’d been waiting for.
He’s not hesitant now – he touches Mikey firm and assured. Like he would want to be touched, Frank realizes, and Mikey is close, so close, to flying apart under his hands.
And still, Gerard looks up at Frank, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.
“Can I?” he asks, and Frank nods, his mouth dry as he watches Gerard lower his head and take the head of Mikey’s cock in his mouth.
He can feel Mikey straining now, it’s a constant battle to keep him in check, but he won’t let Mikey win. Won’t let him thrust up into Gerard’s mouth like he wants to. Mikey is shaking, his muscles trembling with tension, and his skin is slick with sweat.
“Suck him properly,” Frank says, and Gerard doesn’t wait for more. He sinks his head, swallowing Mikey until Mikey swears and lets his head drop back against Frank’s shoulder.
Frank can hear the slick slide of Gerard’s mouth, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Mikey’s face. His cheeks are flushed and he is biting his lip until Frank is sure he will draw blood, but he still can’t tear his eyes away from Gerard, from where his mouth is stretched around his cock.
He is so close, Frank knows, only needs the smallest amount to push him over the edge, so Frank reaches around, tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair and guides his head until he hits the perfect tempo for Mikey.
“Gee.” Mikey sounds desperate and Frank has to hide his smile in Mikey’s neck. “Gee. ‘m gonna come…”
Frank feels how Gerard tenses up, and maybe he would pull off now, let Mikey come on his stomach, on Gerard’s hand. Frank doesn't give him a choice though. He holds Gerard’s head steady, his fingers tight in his hair, and he can feel the moment that Gerard gives in, how he takes Mikey in as far as he can, how his mouth is working around Mikey as Mikey comes, cursing and bucking between them.
Frank doesn’t let him go, doesn’t let him pull off until Mikey is post-orgasm pliant in his arms. When he does, Gerard sits back on his heels, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, the color high on his cheeks. His cock is hard, flushed red and leaking.
“You wanna come?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods in reply, unable to tear his eyes from Mikey even now. It makes Frank smile. “Jack off.” He strokes his hand up Mikey’s torso, feels Mikey shudder. “Jack off over him.”
Gerard nods, his hand already on his cock. His eyes are tracking over Mikey like he’s committing him to memory and Frank can feel how Mikey reacts, how he stretches, languorous and sensual under Gerard’s gaze.
“You’re gonna fuck him for me,” Frank says, and it’s more a prediction than a question. “Later on. You’re gonna finger him open, then fuck him until you come in him, and you’re going to let me watch.”
“Yeah,” Gerard says, his voice breaking on the word. “Mikey…”
His eyes close as he comes so he misses the look on Mikey’s face, the smile, the triumph. Frank doesn’t, and it thrills him.
The second best thing about being on tour is that it comes to an end.
At heart, Frank is something of a homebody, and he’s so looking forward to being back in his own space, his own bed, that he doesn’t think of the logical problem until they rock up at the front door of his and Mikey’s apartment.
“So.” Gerard bites his lip, looks down at the scuffed toes of his converse, a study in anxious awkwardness. “I should be heading home, then.”
He looks up at Frank from under his lashes, and Frank stops in his tracks. They haven’t discussed this, not really discussed anything. He looks at Mikey, who shrugs, his face carefully impassive.
“Up to you,” he tells Frank, and Frank finds he has to swallow around a sudden lump in his throat.
“You should come up,” he says to Gerard. “We’ve got the room, and, uh,” he scrubs his hand over the back of his neck, “we’d like you to be there.”
He hopes he’s reading this right, that Mikey does want this, that Gerard does. That he’s not misreading the whole situation, letting his own daydreams blind him to what’s actually happening.
He’s made the right call, if the way Gerard’s face lights up is any indication. He takes Frank’s wrist and holds it in a loose grip as they troop in, like he’s scared that Frank will make a break for it if he lets him go. It makes Mikey shake his head, though not before Frank catches the smile in his eyes, the way his shoulders have relaxed.
They dump their bags inside the door – unpacking can wait; they have weeks before they have to head out again now – and Mikey turns around.
“Frank’s bed’s best,” he says, as if that answered all the unasked questions, solved all the unspoken problems. “We should use that.”
It’s different being here – there’s a brittleness to it, like they’re teetering on the edge of something huge, something important. For once Frank’s not sure what to say, where to put himself. He hesitates, very aware of Gerard waiting next to him, of the tension thrumming through both of them. Mikey’s the only one of them who seems unconcerned. He heads off to the kitchen and Frank can hear him banging around in the cupboards, running water.
He’s only gone for a minute before he emerges with three glasses of water.
“To put by the bed,” he says. “You know your throat always gets scratchy.”
Frank blinks, because, yes. Coming back from tour seems to give all the bugs he’s been exposed to open season to fight over him. And maybe there have been nights when he’s been gratefully surprised to find a glass of water waiting for him. But he’s never really put it together in his head before now.
The thought makes him flush, and when he looks up Mikey is watching him with an unreadable look on his face.
“Here.” He holds out the glasses to Frank and Frank takes two because he can help here, he can. But Mikey catches his wrist before he can move back, starts pulling him steadily towards his room. “C’mon, Gee,” he says over his shoulder. “We all need some sleep.”
It prompts Gerard into movement, and Frank hears him start to follow them.
This is nothing they haven’t done dozens of times now, but being here, being home, makes it feel different. He strips off his clothes, throwing them straight into the hamper, concentrating on the task to keep himself grounded. Mikey leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor, just like always and Frank is utterly unsurprised when he finds another pile of clothes on the other side of the bed that Gerard has left in his wake. He sighs as he picks them up and throws the lot on top of his in the hamper, but there’s no force behind it, just a sort of fondness that he’s not prepared to examine too closely right now.
By the time he’s done, Mikey and Gerard are in bed watching him with near identical expressions, pressed side to side and their hands tangled together. They’re beautiful, and Frank takes a second to stop and look at them. It makes Mikey shake his head, even as he grins.
“You’ll get cold,” he says, pulling the cover up and gesturing. “Come on. Get in.”
There’s the traditional battle for blankets and pillows that leaves Frank sandwiched between Mikey and Gerard, his cold hands on Mikey and his cold feet pressed between Gerard’s legs. Mikey makes a happy sound, the one he makes just before sleep, and Gerard huffs out a sleepy sigh into the back of Frank’s neck. It’s warm and intimate and home, and Frank falls asleep half hard, thinking of what they’ll do together in the morning.
He wakes up fully hard, Mikey’s mouth already around him.
“Hey,” he says, tangling his fingers in Mikey’s hair. “Morning.”
Mikey just grunts, which is par for the course at this time of the day, but with his mouth wrapped around Frank’s cock, Frank can feel the vibrations down to his toes.
“He’s so beautiful,” Gerard says next to him, quiet, like it’s a secret, and Frank stretches up so he can see him.
“He is.” He puts an arm around Gerard, pulls him close so they have the same view. “And his mouth’s so fucking hot, Gee.” He gasps. “He does this thing with his tongue round the head of my cock, and… god.” He breaks off as Mikey takes the hint, does the thing. Next to him he hears Gerard’s breath catch. “You want him to suck you?”
He can almost see Gerard’s thoughts, the way he watches Mikey’s mouth, how his eyes track down Mikey’s spine to the swell of his ass under the covers.
“Right,” Frank says, understanding dawning. “You want to fuck him, don’t you, Gee?”
Color floods Gerard’s cheeks and he looks away.
“I’m good,” he says. “I just wanna watch you…”
“No, you don’t,” Frank says, and his grip tightens in Mikey’s hair, starts to guide him to a faster rhythm. “You wanna fuck him, Gee. You want to lick him open, then put your fingers in him, then you’re going to fuck him and come in him and he’s gonna be filthy with you…”
He can see it in his mind, can see it in Mikey’s eyes and feel it in the hot panting of Gerard’s breath, and it’s too much. He bucks up, feels Mikey’s throat open for him, comes.
He feels boneless afterwards, amazing, but then he looks at Mikey, kneeling up now, his cock hard and curved and his eyes cast down, sees how Gerard is watching him, and he feels even better.
“Reach out,” he tells Gerard. “Hold him.” But Gerard doesn’t – or at least he hesitates. “He’s cold,” Frank says, kneeling up so he can lean in to Gerard’s ear. “You can hold him; you can warm him up.”
And finally, finally, Gerard moves and takes hold of Mikey.
It’s almost chaste to begin with; he pulls Mikey close, lets him rest his head on his chest, wraps his arms around him.
“Mikey”, Frank hears him say, and then Mikey reaches up and holds Gerard back.
“You’re both so beautiful,” Frank says, like the simple truth it is, and they turn their heads towards him, an identical movement that makes him shiver. “I want to watch you together.”
They look at each other, and Frank can see how much they both want it. He can see it in every line of their bodies, in the expressions on their faces.
He thinks he might need to prompt them, but Mikey tilts his head up and kisses Gerard, and after that Gerard doesn’t stand a chance.
Their kisses turn desperate. He watches how Gerard bites at Mikey’s lips, listens to the sweet, broken noises that Mikey makes in his throat, sees how they melt the last of Gerard’s resistance.
Frank’s told Gerard what Mikey likes before, and Gerard seems to have taken the lesson to heart. He traces patterns over Mikey’s chest, pinching his nipples, making him bite his lip.
“Gee,” Mikey says, breathless. “Let me…”
He breaks off and leans forward, bites a row of kisses along Gerard’s collarbone and Gerard groans.
“Mikey,” he says, and moves as if he wants to push Mikey back.
“Don’t,” Frank tells him, running two fingers down his jaw. “He loves this, loves making you feel. And he’s so good at it.”
“Yeah.” Gerard’s hand is on the back of Mikey’s head, though Frank suspects it’s to ground himself rather than to guide Mikey. His eyes are wide and unbelieving as Mikey bites his way down his torso, sucking one last mark to the crease of Gerard’s thigh before he pulls away, looks up with dark eyes.
“Please,” he says, and Gerard nods his head and sucks in a breath as Mikey swallows him down.
“His mouth,” Frank says. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“So good.” Gerard’s hands are hovering around Mikey’s head, carefully not touching, as if he doesn’t trust himself.
Frank is tempted to talk him through this, to get him pulling Mikey’s hair, guiding his head, like he knows Mikey wants, but there are other things he wants to see right now, and he’s greedy for them.
He moves around so he can rest his chin on Gerard’s shoulder, look down his body to Mikey’s busy mouth.
“You’re ready to fuck him, aren’t you?” he asks, and Gerard shudders. “You’ve seen me fuck him, you know what he can take. He likes it like that, likes it tight, likes to feel it afterwards.” Gerard looks like he might argue, so Frank skims a kiss down his cheek. “Trust me, Gee. You’ll be giving him what he wants. He can tell you if it’s too much.”
He thinks he might need to say more, but Mikey pulls off, kneels up, kisses Gerard, then kisses Frank over his shoulder.
“Frank’s right,” he says. “You should do it.” He strokes his fingers down over Gerard’s ribs until he reaches Frank’s hands, and he links their fingers so they’re holding Gerard steady. “I want you to fuck me.”
Gerard closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, but Frank can see his cock jump, smearing precome against Mikey’s hip, so he’s not surprised when Gerard takes Mikey by the shoulders and flips him bodily around so he collides with Frank and they hit the bed in a tangle of limbs.
“Hi,” Mikey says, and he’s so close, and his smile is so open that Frank has to kiss him.
He loves kissing Mikey, always has since that very first time, when they both thought it might be a mistake they’d struggle to recover from, and it’s easy to lose himself in the kiss.
He can feel Gerard manhandling Mikey, pulling him up onto his knees, but he doesn’t pay attention, not really, until Mikey pulls free from the kiss with a gasp.
“What’s he doing?” Frank asks, and his voice doesn’t sound like his own.
“Lube.” Mikey’s voice is shaking. “He’s, oh. He’s rubbing slick all over me.”
“You’re gonna be so wet,” Frank says, breathless with the thought. “You’re gonna be dripping from him.” Mikey groans and shifts so he can rub his cock against Frank’s stomach. “You gonna stay like that all day? Let me fuck you tonight with nothing more than his come?”
Mikey gasps and drops his head to bite at Frank’s jaw.
“Frankie,” he says, straightening his arms so he can look Frank in the face. “Frankie, he’s…”
“Shhhhh.” Frank can see the exact moment Gerard pushes into Mikey, can see it in the tension of Mikey’s arms, in the heartbreakingly open wonder on Gerard’s face over Mikey’s shoulder.
It’s beautiful; they’re beautiful, and Frank can’t look away, doesn’t want to.
“How does he feel?” he asks, his voice hushed, and Mikey breathes “he’s fucking me so good, Frankie” at exactly the same moment that Gerard says “perfect”.
He can see both their faces from here, can see the flush high on Mikey’s cheekbones, the frantic look in Gerard’s eyes, and he’s content to watch them, to link his fingers with Gerard’s when he reaches out, to steal kisses from Mikey when Mikey bows his head, overwhelmed.
When Mikey comes over him, it’s more of a release than any orgasm he’s seen him have before and as Gerard follows behind his brother, his name on his lips like a prayer, Frank feels like he’s been given everything he’s ever wanted.
In retrospect, Frank really should have expected this.
He was only out for the afternoon, mostly because his mom has ways of making him pay if he doesn’t spend at least some time alone with her, but apparently that was enough.
Mikey has Gerard pressed up against the kitchen counter, is holding his face in his hands, kissing him like he can’t get enough of it.
They don’t look around when Frank comes in, don’t even look up when the door slams shut behind him, an afterthought that Frank forgot when he saw what they were doing.
They’re beautiful together. Frank has always known this – knew this before they were even together – but getting to watch them together like this is a rare treat. It’s payoff for months of whispered suggestions, of trying to show them that there was a way for this to happen, and his initial reaction is an unholy glee. Well, and being so turned on that he can barely think straight.
And he doesn’t want to interrupt this, to interrupt them. This is the first time that he’s found them initiating anything without him being there, and he’s damned if he’s going to ruin that moment.
So he stands as far back as he can, lets the shadows of the hall shroud him, and he watches. Watches as Mikey pulls Gerard’s head back by the hair, as he bites at his throat, leaves marks that Frank wants to taste for himself, will soothe with his tongue later.
Gerard groans, throaty and low, and he runs his hands down Mikey’s arms, pulls him closer.
Mikey turns slightly as he moves, and for a second Frank thinks he’s been spotted, but Mikey turns back to Gerard and tilts his face up, kissing him so gently and tenderly that Frank thinks his heart might break with it.
“Wanna make you come,” Mikey says when he pulls away. “Can I, Gee?”
“Yeah.” Gerard looks shellshocked, but the smile he gives Mikey is blinding. “Just…” He kisses Mikey again like he can’t bear to let him go.
By the time he pulls away, Mikey’s mouth is kiss-swollen and his cheeks are flushed. It’s a good look on him, and it leaves Frank biting the heel of his hand against the noises he wants to make.
It’s worse when Mikey sinks down onto his knees in front of Gerard. Frank’s been there, hundreds of times now. Knows what it looks like when Mikey’s blinking up from underneath his lashes. No wonder Gerard groans and tangles his fingers in Mikey’s hair – it’s only what Frank would do.
Mikey undoes Gerard’s pants with careful movements, like he thinks he’ll spook Gerard if he makes sudden movements. Frank can see his face though, knows just how far Gerard is from running away right now.
He can’t help it in the end; when Mikey takes Gerard into his mouth, sinks his head down in one smooth move that Frank knows all too well, his self restraint shatters and he flicks his own pants open to take himself in hand.
It’s easy enough to time his strokes with the movements of Mikey’s head. He knows how this feels, can imagine what Gerard is feeling right now. The noises Gerard’s making are loud enough that he thinks he’s getting away with it, and he couldn’t hold back, not now. Not when the color is high in Gerard’s cheeks and his hands are tangled in Mikey’s hair, guiding him into the perfect rhythm.
“Mikey,” Gerard says, his voice broken. “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.”
He says his name like a litany, and Frank isn’t sure he’s ever been this turned on.
He manages to hold on, though. Holds on while Gerard comes and Mikey sucks him through it. Holds on while Mikey fumbles his pants open and leans his head on Gerard’s thigh, stroking himself, too tight and too rough and how he always treats himself when he’s desperate and there’s no one to stop him. He manages to hold back right until Mikey comes with a bitten-off cry, spilling over his knuckles and the kitchen floor.
He comes then, biting his lip until he can taste blood in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, and it’s only when he manages to pry his eyes open again, his breathing gradually approaching normal, that he sees Gerard helping Mikey up, sees them kiss like they’re the only people in the world, and the reality of what’s happened hits him.
They’re together. Mikey and Gerard. Together without him. And they fit together, like he will never fit with them. He swallows around the lump in his throat that the realization brings, because, this might be the first time, or it might be the hundredth, but… they don’t need him any more. He’s done what he meant to do, and now? Now there’s no need for him.
It’s not something he’s considered before – not consciously, not even if it’s the thing at the back of his mind he’s been avoiding from the start – and the thought that he’s not wanted, not seen, not needed, strikes him, visceral and too intense, too real, and he can’t cope, can’t breathe around the lump in his throat. He should say something, he knows that, should reach out or go over to them. But he can’t. There’s just too much in his mind and his chest and he can’t get beyond that. So he takes the only other course of action available to him – he runs, the door slamming shut again behind him as he flees.
There’s a limited number of places he can go right now, and even fewer that he can go where the others won’t be able to find him.
Frankly, unless he leaves town they’re gonna find him sooner or later, so he just holes up in a bar so that at least he’s comfortable while he awaits the inevitable. Quite what the inevitable is, he’s not sure. He thinks about it while he down his first beer, moves onto his second and third.
He forces himself to remember that they’re his friends. He took a risk with this – he sees that now, understands, too late, that it might have been too big a risk. They love each other, they always have, and now they won’t need him. And yeah, this is probably going to suck balls, but at least they care about him enough to not drag it out.
He just hopes he won’t lose the band as well. No matter how much this hurts, he wants to keep that, wants it more than anything. Music is his life, and even though he knows he can make it on his own (hopes he can make it on his own), he never really believed that he’d have to find out this soon, this suddenly.
He picks at the label on the fourth bottle, trying to work out if it has been worth it. Probably, he thinks, even if he loses them now, even if he loses the band, because surely it’s better to have a taste of what you want then be left wondering forever. It hurts, though, and he hadn’t really counted on that. It’s not even the sex (though he’s gonna miss that like mad). It his apartment. His home. His band. His friends.
It’s waking up to Gerard kissing his shoulder; to Mikey’s warm presence in his arms. It’s the songs he’ll never write, the shows he won’t perform in. It’s backstage, and busses, and kisses stolen when no one is looking. It’s a million things that Frank never counted on missing until now, and he finishes his beer and waves the empty at the bartender, because if this is a pity party then he’s damn well going to go down swinging.
“I’ll get this one.” Mikey’s voice isn’t exactly a surprise – Frank knew they’d find him sooner or later – but he’d hoped he’d get a few more beers in before they did.
“Where’s Gee?” he asks, taking the fresh bottle and holding it against his forehead.
“Another bar,” Mikey says. “We split up to cover more ground.”
Frank makes a noncommittal noise and sips his beer. Mikey puts an arm around him, but Frank can hear him tapping away at his phone with his other hand, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out who he’s texting.
“You going to make me talk then?” he says at last, when the silence has dragged on too long to be natural, even by Mikey’s standards. “About my feelings?”
Mikey shrugs, the movement pulling Frank in closer. “Not planned on it,” he says, sounding bored, and swipes the beer from Frank.
“What is this then?” Frank asks, and twists so that he can see Mikey’s face.
Mikey just raises an eyebrow in response and Frank’s fairly sure that the talking will come soon enough, so he allows himself the indulgence of relaxing into Mikey’s embrace like this is five months ago, and he’s just out with his boyfriend for the evening.
It’s no surprise when Gerard arrives about ten silent minutes and another beer later. What does come as a shock is the look on Gerard’s face.
“You found him then?” Gerard doesn’t bother even looking at Frank and it doesn’t come as a surprise, but Frank still finds himself shrinking in on himself, a study in misery.
“Yeah.” Mikey tightens his hold on Frank as if he’s worried he’s going to run. “He’s in full self-pity mode though.”
Gerard huffs out a noise that Frank can’t decipher and jingles his car keys. “Shall we get him home?”
Mikey tugs at him, but Frank is already climbing down off his seat. They’ll be good about this, he knows. Thoughtful. And it’s best to get this over with now, like ripping off a band aid in one go. Still, he’s entitled to his misery right now, and he wraps himself in it, climbing into the back of the car and staring out the window while they drive home.
Mikey leaves him to it. He climbs into the front next to Gerard, and they have one of those silent conversations that Frank doesn’t bother watching, much less decoding this time. He knows what’s on the cards, after all. He’s not stupid.
He’s expecting something civilized when they get home. Expecting that they’ll head to the sofas and have this conversations like the adults they pretend to be.
He’s not expecting Mikey to manhandle him into the bedroom and push him bodily onto the bed.
“What...” he starts, but Mikey holds up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“He’s being stupid,” Mikey says over his shoulder to where Gerard is hovering by the door. “There’s no other reason he’d be sulking like that.”
“So what do we do?” Gerard asks, and Mikey turns back to look at Frank, like he’s an interesting problem that’s waiting to be solved.
“We make him use his words,” Mikey says at last. “We stop whatever the hell is going on in his mind by whatever means necessary, and then we make him tell us what’s wrong.”
“And then we fix it?” Gerard asks, and the hope in his voice has Frank looking up involuntarily, just in time to see Mikey nod. “Good.” He looks down at Frank, his expression a curious mix of fond and worried. “By any means necessary?”
“It’s the only way,” Mikey says, his eyes dark, and he moves forward, climbs onto the bed between Frank’s legs and puts his hands on Frank’s knees. “Otherwise he’ll never open up to us.”
Gerard shrugs and sits on the bed so he can take hold of Frank’s ankle.
“You can talk to us about anything,” he says, his voice serious. “You know that, right, Frankie?”
And Frank wants to talk, he does, and he wants to believe what they’re telling him, but the words are tangled on his tongue and the feelings are tangled in his heart, and he’s too drunk, too sad, and he can’t make sense of any of them. He wants to reach out to Gerard, to pull him down next to him so he can be held, but he’s not sure he can have that any more, so he just slumps back against the pillows and covers his face with his arms.
Gerard sighs. “We do it your way, then,” he says to Mikey, and Frank feels how Mikey’s grip tightens on his knees.
There are times when the Ways together feel unstoppable, and this is one of them. Frank is naked and exposed on the bed before he’s really processed what’s happening. It’s only when Mikey manhandles him onto his back, pulls him down the bed, starts to spread his legs, that he realizes what’s happening.
This is their idea of a last time, a goodbye fuck. Something they can remember later when they look back, something they can tell themselves was a dramatic inevitability.
It’s a pity fuck, and the thought makes Frank burn. He sits up so suddenly that he nearly headbutts Gerard, but he doesn’t even care. He might not have much here, but he still has some dignity, dammit.
“You don’t have to pretend you want me,” he says, smacking Mikey’s hands away with a bit more force than is necessary. “I understand. I get it.”
“What?” Mikey looks honestly confused, but then he would. Neither of the Ways have ever been much good at understanding outsiders – or at having their plans derailed.
“This.” He gestures at their bodies, at the clothes strewn around the room. “It’s just fucking cruel.”
“Cruel?” Gerard asks, his expression a twin of Mikey’s. “Why?”
It fans Frank’s anger into a flame. “You think you can fuck me one last time and it’ll make everything okay?” he asks, not bothering to keep the hurt, the hostility from his voice. “You think it’ll make it easier on me?” He shakes his head, suddenly disgusted at them both. “You should just let me go now.”
“What do you mean?” Mikey’s voice is cold, toneless in the way he gets when he’s hurting, but Frank doesn’t have time for this now, can’t care about Mikey’s feelings when his own are on fire in his chest.
“I’ll get over it.” His voice is perilously close to a shout, but he doesn’t have the self control right now to lower his tone. “It hurts, that’s all. And I can’t do this, not now.” He takes a deep breath, struggles for control, because there are things he needs to say, right now, because there won’t be a chance to say them again. “You don’t realize, not yet, but you will, and I’m happy for you, I really am, and I’m grateful you let me be a part of it, even if it was only for a while.” He looks at them both, at their stupid, shocked faces, like they expected this could have ever turned out differently. “I’ll always be grateful.”
The words take the fight out of him, because they’re true. He is happy for them, and he’s not going to cry dammit, but he doesn’t want to keep fighting, and can’t bear to be here, as if he still has a place in this. It’s obvious that he doesn’t. Was obvious in the way they were together without him, in the way Gerard stroked Mikey’s cheek, in the way Mikey’s hands fisted in Gerard’s hair, obvious in how perfectly they fit together without him there.
He scrubs a hand over his face and climbs off the bed, trying to work out which of the clothes are his, because he wants out, now.
“Frankie.” Gerard’s voice stops him, jeans in hand, because he’s never heard him sound like this. “What do you mean?” He reaches out to Frank; stops himself before he touches him. “Do you think we don’t need you? That we don’t want you in this with us?”
“I don’t fit,” Frank says, voice small. “You don’t have to bother pretending, I always knew that…”
“Always?” Mikey cuts across him, his voice cold. “You always thought you didn’t fit?”
He looks angry, angrier than Frank would have expected him to look, but he nods anyway.
“You’ve got a history,” he starts and Mikey’s lip curls.
“And we don’t?” he asks, anger dripping from every syllable. “Because I thought that years of friendship and months of dating and the fact we’re fucking living together meant something to you.”
“It did!” Frank says, because he’s not thought of it like this. “It does.” He stops, takes a breath. “Mikey, you know how I feel about you…”
“I thought I did,” Mikey says. “I thought you knew how I felt about you as well.” He kneels up, wholly unconcerned about his nakedness. “But I was obviously wrong, wasn’t I?”
“No.” Frank puts his hand on Mikey’s shoulder, because Mikey has to understand this, has to know that this isn’t his fault. “I know, Mikey. I understand. I just…” he gestures at Gerard, “I know I can’t compete, and I don’t want to.” He takes a deep breath, meets Mikey’s eyes. “I don’t want you to be torn; you’re worth so much more than that to me.”
He’s not sure what he’s expecting – this is the most self-sacrificing thing he’s ever done, and he doesn’t know how it’s meant to play out now. What he most certainly isn’t expecting is for Mikey to slap him, hard across his face.
“How dare you.” Mikey’s voice is low and dangerous, and Frank has never seen him looking this angry. “You think I was using you because you were convenient? You think I can turn my feelings on and off? You think I’m not capable of loving you both?”
“No.” Frank is suddenly desperate to make him understand, because it’s not like that – it’s fate, and who is Frank to stand in the way of that, even if Mikey and Gerard haven’t understood that yet. “No, Mikey, I…”
“Shut up.” Mikey takes hold of Frank’s shoulders. “Just shut up, Frankie. I don’t want to hear another stupid word from you.”
He kisses Frank then, like an attack, like this is the only way he’s willing to let his anger out any more, and Frank, confused and hurting, knows this is a bad idea. Knows it and doesn’t have the willpower to stop it. He just wants it too much.
His mouth feels bruised when Mikey pulls away, swollen and tender and like Frank will feel this for days. And he wants that, wants marks to remember. If there is going to be a last time, he wants it to hurt.
He doesn’t say that though, but maybe he doesn’t have to. Mikey knows him too well, and right now, with his fingers digging bruises into Frank’s arms, Frank isn’t sure he can hide a single thing from him. Isn’t sure he wants to.
“This isn’t the last time.” Mikey says the words like a promise, and oh, but Frank wants to believe him, even if he can’t because he’s not stupid and he understands what’s about to happen, even if they don’t. “Gee. Show him.”
“What?” Gerard’s voice is closer than Frank thought it would be. He’s off the bed, standing close to Frank now, blocking his way out. “That we want him? That we need him?” He leans close so his lips are brushing Frank’s neck as he speaks. “That we love him?”
The words hit Frank like blows, because they’ve not said this, not to each other. Not with words. And no matter what Mikey thinks, words do mean something to him, and these words especially. They make him stop, make him listen.
And finally he closes his eyes and lets himself feel, Mikey’s hands on his arms anchoring him, how warm Gerard is behind him, how gentle his hands are on Frank’s hips.
He opens his mouth to say something, he’s not even sure what, but Mikey puts a finger on his lips.
“Not interested,” he says and Gerard makes a small noise of dissent. “No, Gee. He won’t believe words. He needs to see.” There’s a rawness to his voice that Frank hasn’t heard before, and he opens his eyes, looks at Mikey’s face, wondering. “He has to understand.”
There’s a plea there, and maybe Frank owes him this. He nods, once, shaky but sincere, and even though Mikey’s face remains grim, Frank sees some of the tension ease from his expression.
“Gee?” Mikey quirks an eyebrow at his brother and that is all the warning Frank gets before he’s flipped onto the bed, Mikey kneeling astride him, pinning him down.
“Mikey,” Frank says, suddenly breathless and Mikey finally smiles.
“Yeah,” he says, and bends down to kiss Frank, softer now. “Just let this happen.”
“Please,” Gerard says. He climbs onto the bed behind Frank, takes hold of his wrists and pulls them up so that Frank is pinned between them. “We love you. Let us look after you.”
They take turns kissing him, kissing the noises from his mouth, the breath from his lungs, swapping over and over and over, until Frank is desperate, dizzy with it, gasping in air between kisses because his lungs are burning and they’re not stopping, not backing off.
Gerard’s grip has tightened around his wrists, and it gives Frank something to push against. He’s not trying to escape, not really, but he wants to know he can’t, wants to know that they have him. And they do. He’ll have bracelets of bruises tomorrow, marks on his ribs from Mikey’s knees.
And he fights, fights as hard as he can until he realizes there’s no fucking point. He collapses between them, not spent – not by a long way – but not willing to fight any more. Tonight – just for this moment – he will take what he is given, no more, no less.
“Yes,” Mikey says, like he spots the exact fucking moment it happens. “Frankie.”
He swaps over with Gerard, swallows Frank’s moan from his lips, kisses him like he’s drowning, while Gerard strokes all the skin he can reach; while Frank burns from the inside out.
“What do we do now?” Gerard asks when Mikey finally pulls away. His voice is small, awed maybe, but Frank is beyond judging.
“Prove it,” Mikey says. “Show him he’s ours.”
Frank moans at the idea, lets his head fall back onto Gerard’s thighs. He can feel Gerard’s fingers running over the contours of his face, and it’s a curiously tender movement.
He gets caught up in the sensation, would be lost in it, except Mikey is sliding up his body, running the pads of his fingers over Frank’s lips.
“Frankie?” he says, his voice hoarse. “Frankie, I need you to…”
His words break off, but that’s okay, he’s running the head of his cock over Frank’s lips and Frank moans, opening up to him like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.
Mikey sighs as he slides in past Frank’s lips, and Gerard tightens his hold on Frank again, like Frank would even want to get free right now.
It’s not something he’s used to, not with Mikey at least; not with Gerard, but he knows how this goes. He hollows his cheeks, sucks as best he can, tries to breathe through his nose as Mikey fucks his face. And he doesn’t have to think about this, doesn’t have to plan. His only goal is to keep breathing, to make Mikey come and they’re simple goals, things he can achieve.
Everything narrows down until his reality is the slide of Mikey’s cock in his mouth, the jarring cut as his lips mash against his teeth, the tight pressure of Gerard’s hands anchoring him to the bed.
He wants to zone out, thinks he might make it a time or two, but Gerard is stroking Frank’s face, letting his fingers linger on his cheek as Mikey’s cock presses against it from the other side, and Frank can’t miss a second of it. He’s hard, yes, but it’s an afterthought; secondary to the way he is being held, to Mikey’s increasingly violent thrusts.
He can taste blood now, where he’s been biting down on his lips, and it makes him moan, and that makes Mikey groan.
“Are you gonna come?” Gerard asks in a rough whisper. “Mikey? I wanna be fucking him when you come.”
Frank moans again, and Mikey makes a broken sound as he pulls out of Frank’s mouth.
“Jesus.” Gerard sounds awed. “His mouth.” He strokes his fingers gently over Frank’s lips, shivers when Frank opens up and sucks them in.
“You want it?” Mikey asks, his voice rough. “Or you wanna fuck him?”
Gerard hesitates and Frank uses the moment to swirl his tongue over the tips of Gerard’s fingers.
“His mouth,” Gerard says then, like it was ever a choice, and Frank smiles around the fingers still between his lips.
“Yeah,” Mikey says and moves down, away, and for a second Frank has a dizzying sense of disorientation, like he’s on his own again.
Mikey shocks him out of it, though, smacking him sharp and sudden on the soft skin of his inner thigh.
“No,” he says. “We got you, Frankie. Stop it.”
He’s petting his fingers over the mark he made as he talks though, and Frank isn’t sure any more what’s pleasure and what’s pain. But it knocks the thoughts out of his head, which is maybe enough for now, and the only thing in his mind as Mikey turns him over is relief.
That’s short lived, though. He’s maybe half expecting Mikey to finger him, to stretch him open, but Mikey doesn’t.
Instead he rubs lube over Frank’s ass, enough that Frank feels filthy, like he’s dripping with it, but he doesn’t press inside, not so much as a finger tip.
“Mikey…” Frank’s voice has an edge of panic, but Mikey just shushes him as he rubs the blunt head of his cock against Frank’s hole.
“Relax,” he says. “You need to relax for me, Frankie, or this is gonna hurt you.”
He doesn’t offer to stop, though, and Frank doesn’t ask him to. Instead he tries to breathe through it as Mikey pushes inside him, fucking him open, focusing on Mikey’s hands on his hips, Gerard’s hands in his hair, anything to ground him, to stop him flying apart.
And Mikey waits until Frank thinks he’s got this, that he can take anything Mikey gives him, before he stops.
“You still scared?” Mikey asks. “You still think we don’t want you?”
It would be so easy to lie right now, but Frank is split open, exposed, unable to lie. “You got each other,” he says, like the words are wrung out of him.
“And you got us too,” Mikey says. He strokes his fingers up Frank’s ribs, makes him shudder and clench, but still doesn’t thrust. “You think I didn’t see how you looked at Gee?” He moves then, withdrawing almost all the way, until Frank can feel the head of his cock catching on his rim. “You’ve been watching each other for years – both of you. I’ve seen it.” He strokes his hand down Frank’s spine. “Tell me, Frankie. Tell me you wanted him.”
There’s a desperation to the words that Frank’s not used to hearing from him and as he finally presses home, Frank has to bite back a sob.
“Yes.” And his voice is ruined, but he has to try and get this out. “Yes, I wanted him. Is that what you wanna hear, Mikes? I want him, and I want you, and I want you both.”
“Yeah.” Gerard’s voice is gentle, but his grip on Frank’s face is implacable. He pulls it up, makes Frank straighten his arms until he’s on all fours. “I really wanted to hear that.”
It almost hurts to see the expression on his face, and Frank has no idea what to say, but Gerard takes the decision out of his hands.
“Open up,” he says, moving so he’s kneeling in front of Frank, and Frank does, lets him slide his cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as best he can as Mikey groans and starts fucking him in earnest.
He can feel their hands on his body, can feel how well they know him with every touch, and he’s not sure he’s ever been this turned on, even though every touch is a tease and a promise, and there’s nothing for him to rut against.
“Frankie.” Gerard’s voice is hoarse, and when Frank looks up at him from under his lashes, his eyes are dark. He cups Frank’s face, slides back so the head of his cock is pulling against the seal of Frank’s lips. “Frankie, I need… Can I…”
He stutters to a halt, but Frank knows what he was trying to ask. He hums agreement, tries to relax, lets Mikey’s next thrust push him forward until he can feel the head of Gerard’s cock nudge the back of his throat.
Gerard groans, tightens his hands in Frank’s hair, and Frank wants this. He lets Mikey set the pace, uses the force of Mikey pushing into him push him onto Gerard. And all his worries, all his fears are lost between one moment and the next, because here and now all he has to worry about is breathing, feeling, relaxing his body so he can be used.
It’s like a physical loss when Gerard pulls himself free, and it takes a moment for Frank to understand that Gerard’s talking to him. In fact, he might not even notice then, but Gerard strikes him, open palm and shocking, across his face and his blinks his eyes open, looks up.
“Do you understand now?” Gerard asks, and he rubs his fingers gently across Frank’s cheek, soothing the sting, even as Mikey thrusts forward as far as he can, pulls Frank up so he’s held in his arms. “There’s no us without you.” He lets his fingers trail down Frank’s torso until he can tangle them with Mikey’s.
“We both want you,” Mikey says in his ear. “And we know you want us. Do you get that? Do you understand, Frankie?”
And he wants to argue, would argue, but here and now, he can’t. They want him there, they want him period, and Frank isn’t a good man, and he doesn’t want to persuade them otherwise.
“Yes,” he says, the word breaking into a sob as Mikey moves him, lifts him until he nearly drags his cock free, then slides home in one smooth movement. “Yes, Mikey.”
“Good,” Mikey says, reaching down and grasping Frank’s cock in a lube-slick hand. “Good boy, Frankie.”
He starts jerking Frank’s cock then, in time with his own thrusts and Gerard reaches down and lets his fingers tangle with Mikey’s so they’re bringing him off together. It’s exposed, being held like this, and he has to watch every look on Gerard’s face as he brings himself off to the same rhythm, his eyes tracking over Frank’s face, Mikey’s, his lip bitten between his teeth like he’s biting back words he shouldn’t say.
Afterwards, with the sweat and come cooling sticky on Frank’s skin, he fights to stay awake.
“I meant it,” Mikey says his voice low in Frank’s ear. “You’re not a negotiable part of this. You’re ours.”
“You want to be,” Gerard says, his voice quiet now in the dark. “Don’t you?”
There’s an edge of uncertainty to the words and it suddenly occurs to Frank that he might not be the only one who’s afraid.
“Yeah,” he says, letting his post-orgasm lassitude lend him courage. “I love you guys. Of course I want this.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then they both crowd close, and the last thing he feels as his eyes slip shut is their smiles against his skin.