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we could lose ourselves

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cover art by accrues



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The room was warm, the lights dim. Frank had changed the sheets, fluffed the pillows, lit some scented candles. There was something playing in the background, something soft and jazzy, almost soothing.

It didn't help the twist of nerves in Gerard's stomach.

Frank finished folding Gerard's clothes, stacking them into a neat little pile on the armchair shoved into the corner of the room. He tucked Gerard's socks into his ratty Converse, looking pleased with himself. Frank was a total neat freak, and Gerard loved to tease him about it.

Not tonight, though.

"Hands behind your back," Grant murmured. "Frank, a two column tie, if you please."

Gerard turned around and clasped his hands together. He heard Frank's approach, felt the careful way he wrapped the rope around his wrists, once, twice, and a twist, then a gentle tug as Frank tied the knot, taking up the slack.

Gerard had to concentrate on keeping steady as the rope tightened around his hands, digging into the delicate skin a little.

"Wiggle your fingers?" Frank said, and Gerard did as Frank asked, making sure the rope wasn't cutting off his circulation. Frank examined the lay of the rope. "Okay?"

He swallowed before answering, and he sounded a bit breathless. "Yeah."

"On your knees, legs apart," Grant said, and in spite of the gentleness of his voice, there was a hint of steel underneath.

Gerard dropped to the carpet, legs folding under him. He was a slightly off balance and it hurt a little; he wasn't as young as he used to be. Not old for trees, as Frank would have it.

"Good boy," Grant praised. He moved around until he was in front of Gerard, Frank trailing him like a shadow. It was intimidating, to be kneeling while they stood over him, but he fought to keep his eyes downcast.

Grant touched his chin. "Look at me."

Gerard did as he was told. His glance darted to Frank before settling on Grant's face, and his heart beat faster at the affectionate look Grant was giving him.

"The shears are out. What's your safeword, sweetheart?"

He took a moment to try to center himself, concentrating on the nubby texture of the carpet under his bare knees, on the warmth of the room. He'd spent the entire day trapped in meetings in Burbank, trying to hammer out the details for his next comic project. It hadn't gone well, and the tension in his neck and shoulders had spread down to his back. He struggled to let it go, and knew he wouldn't be able to, not without help. "Umbrella."

There was a ripple of laughter from Frank, and Gerard had to fight to keep from smiling back.

"So, Gerard," Grant said, his accent growing more pronounced. "Tell me what it is that you want tonight."

Gerard blushed, heat flooding his cheeks. Grant's fingers were firm on his chin, keeping him from looking away, down, anywhere but at Grant, who waited impassively. "I—" He wanted to squirm away and hide, because there was no way he could say it out loud— "I can't—"

"Shhh." Grant pressed his thumb to Gerard's mouth. "We'll help you. Frank, the flogger."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard could see Frank walk over to the drawer, open it and pull out the flogger. It was probably Gerard's favorite toy; the thin leather strips, depending on the wielder, could range from stinging to burning, all without breaking skin.

"Thank you," Grant said, accepting the flogger from Frank. "Say your word for me again." Grant circled around him, swinging the flogger idly, like he wasn't even paying attention.

Gerard knew better. "Umbrel—oh!" Grant wasn't putting any effort into it, just enough snap to focus Gerard's attention.

"You know how this works," Grant said softly. "If you want to stop at any time, for any reason, you say your word. Do you understand?"

He had to swallow before he could find his voice. "Y-yes."

"Excellent." He flicked the flogger against Gerard's back, his side, across the front of his chest. "He looks so pretty, doesn't he, Frank?"

"Fucking gorgeous," Frank said thickly. He kneeled next to Gerard, leaned in for a kiss.

Gerard couldn't help himself, he made a needy little noise.

Frank teased him, pulling away before Gerard could deepen the kiss.

Grant took the opportunity to lay a series of gentle blows across Gerard's back. Gerard could almost see it, the expanse of his pale skin, crisscrossed with faint pink stripes, and the contrast. . .

"Yes," he whimpered.

"Yes, what?" Grant dragged the tails of the flogger across Gerard's shoulders, down his back. He was so sensitive already, the soft leather felt abrasive against his skin, like sandpaper.

The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Instead, he bit his lip and shook his head.

"Rebellious boy," Grant said, and started whipping him in earnest, ruthless but in control, always always in absolute control.

It fucking hurt, but Gerard was able to breathe through the waves of stinging pain. He couldn't help but struggle a little against the rope around his wrists, not trying to escape, just searching for—more.

"Ah, no." There wasn't any censure in Grant's voice, just amusement. "Frank, hold him down, if you please."

"No—" Gerard gasped, but Frank's hand was warm between Gerard's shoulder blades, pushing him down until his cheek was pressed against the carpeting. He couldn't move like this, balance and leverage gone, and he was displayed and exposed, to be taken and used—

Gerard cried out wordlessly at the next lash of the flogger; Grant wasn't holding back now. He struck again and again, concentrating on Gerard's ass, alternating between left and right, occasionally moving up to Gerard's back, startling a moan out of him.

It was exquisite agony. It consumed Gerard, narrowed his universe down to the almost unbearable pause between strokes, and the electrifying fire that bloomed across his skin when the flogger struck. Nothing else existed.

The blows slowed, the lull between each growing longer, and Gerard realized that his face was wet, sweat or tears, probably both. His fingers were clenched, the rope taut around his wrists, and his voice was rough. He wondered what kind of noises he'd been making. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he panted. Frank still held him down, solid and sure at Gerard's side.

Gerard could feel the caress of the leather tails, trailing over his arms, across his back. He flinched at the touch of Frank's free hand drifting across his back; it was almost cold in comparison to the inflamed skin of his ass.

He wondered if he looked as debauched as he felt.

He was hard, had been since he'd gotten home, greeted at the door with a hungry kiss from Grant. Frank liked the thrill of anticipation, so Gerard hadn't been allowed to touch, he'd had to wait. Now, he felt frantic, the slightest thing could set him off, but with the way he was bent over, knees apart, there was nothing for him to rub against. There was no way to get the friction he desperately needed. "Please—"

"Please what?" Grant traced the line of Gerard's spine with the handle of the flogger, pausing at the small of his back.

He shifted his weight, pressing his flaming cheek against the roughness of the carpet and lifting his ass up as much as he could, tied and bound like this. He hoped it was enough, that Grant wouldn't make him say the words.

"What do you think, Frank? If he won't tell us what he wants, maybe we'll just leave him like this. . ."

"No, please—".

Someone, Gerard couldn't tell who, stroked the skin of his ass, blunt nails leaving behind traceries of sensation. The fingers circled, cool and slippery, then shoved in with no warning, wide and rough. He couldn't help himself, he cried out and shoved back, the surge of pleasure tinged with pain.

"C'mon, Gerard," Frank murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Tell us what you want, what you need."

The fingers twisted, pulled back before sliding back in. Gerard trembled and closed his eyes, the hunger skittering across his nerves almost too much to bear. "Please," he whispered brokenly. "Please—"

A hand smacked his ass, the sound of flesh meeting flesh loud in Gerard's ears. It was more intimate than being hit with the flogger, and he choked on a gasp as the sensitized skin prickled. Frank kept him bent over, trapped, and he could feel another finger, maybe two, moving into him, and it was overwhelming—

"Fuck me," he begged. It was so difficult to ask for what he longed for. "Please, just fuck me, again and again and again, please—"

"Good boy," Grant murmured, and the fingers were gone, and Gerard didn't have time to think before he felt the heat from Grant's body along his back, pressing close, his cock nudging at Gerard's hole.

Grant was still wearing his clothes, rough against his skin, and it made something in Gerard's stomach tighten in a way that made heat arrow down to his cock. He felt vulnerable, exposed, and he was terrified by how much he craved the loss of control that he was feeling.

"Yes," Grant drawled. "Oh, yes." He shifted forward, wrapping his arms around Gerard's chest, and Gerard couldn't breathe against the insistent pressure that Grant was bringing to bear against him.

Gerard started to struggle, because Grant was too big, Gerard couldn't take him without a lot more prep, he was going to split apart and it was going to hurt—

His body betrayed him, opening up around Grant's slick cock and letting him in, driving a ragged cry from Gerard's throat.

Gerard always forgot how much he loved this: being filled up until he was sure he couldn't take anymore, and then being proven wrong when Grant somehow pushed in deeper.

It verged on too much; his body clenched around Grant's cock, a stark reminder that Grant was inside him, as close as he could get. Gerard tried to regain his equilibrium, concentrated on calming his racing heart, stopping the way his thighs trembled, blinking the sweat out of his eyes, but Grant knew him all too well.

Grant leaned over him, arms tightening around Gerard, his body warm even through his clothes. He nipped at the side of Gerard's neck. "Oh, no, you don't." He shifted, pulling back before kicking roughly with his hips. "Let go, Gerard. Just let go of everything."

Gerard spread his knees more as Grant established a rhythm that was slow and deep; he bottomed out every time he thrust in. It felt so good, Grant stretching him wide, nudging at his prostate, pleasure flashing along his nerves. "Please, Grant, untie me, I gotta touch, need to come, so fucking much, please God—"

"Not yet," Grant panted, hands skimming over Gerard's nipples before sliding down to grasp his hips for leverage, thrusting faster as his rhythm grew ragged. "Beautiful boy."

"So beautiful," Frank echoed. "So hard and desperate." Gerard could feel Frank's clever fingers trace the length of his dick, his touch teasing and light. He shook the sweat-damp hair out of his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Grant inside of him.

"Please, Frank, I want—"

Frank laughed softly. "It's not what about what you want, baby. It's about you taking what we give you, over and over, until you can't take any more."

Gerard closed his eyes in despair. They were giving him exactly what he asked for, and he wasn't sure he could survive it.

With a guttural moan, Grant shoved in forcefully enough to jolt Gerard forward on the carpet, twisting his hips and grinding in deep. He was coming, Gerard could almost feel it, and he pushed back, trying to take more of Grant, chasing after his own pleasure—

"Ah ah ah," Frank chided. He wrapped his hand around the base of Gerard's cock, squeezing hard, distracting Gerard.

"No, please, I'm so close—"

"Don't make me get out the cock ring," Frank muttered into his ear before biting at the lobe.

"Oh, fuck no, please, no. . ." His words trailed off into a pathetic little noise as Grant pulled out, the sudden emptiness making him feel alone and abandoned.

"Shhhh," Frank said. "We've got you."

Gerard could feel movement behind him, the shifting of bodies, Frank's hand on his back falling away. Then Frank was sliding in, deeper than Grant, the metal teeth of the zipper on his jeans cold and rough against Gerard's ass.

He could feel the weight of Frank's gaze as he looked at the faint welts on Gerard's back, and then Frank was touching them. Frank liked seeing Gerard marked up like this, fading lines on sweaty skin, and loved watching Grant wield the flogger, and more rarely the crop or paddle.

"You're so tight, even after Grant just fucked you open," Frank murmured, and Gerard keened, helplessly, hopelessly aroused. Frank talked dirty when they were in bed, and he was fucking good at it. "Wonder if you'd be loose if we kept you plugged with a toy all day. Make you go out, all prim and proper, but with a plug filling you up, keeping you stretched—"

Gerard inhaled sharply, the idea of being in public with a plug inside of him making him shiver. Frank started a gentle rocking motion, and it wasn't anywhere near enough to satisfy the clawing need inside of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard caught Grant's smirk. Fingers tangled in his hair, petted him, traced the line of his jaw, and pressed against his lips. "Perhaps an experiment for another day?"

"Definitely," Frank said hoarsely. He left a line of soft kisses down Gerard's back. "Love you so much, Gerard."

The words hurt, made his stomach twist. "No—" He didn't deserve Frank, or Grant, but he was selfish, greedy for whatever they gave him.

Frank picked up his pace, and the way their bodies moved together, it stung. Gerard's ass was sore and tender and Frank wasn't slowing down, wasn't stopping in spite of the thin, gasping whine that slipped free from Gerard with every breath.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Frank hissed, slamming into Gerard and shuddering, his hips kicking erratically. "So fucking good, making me come so fast, like a kid."

Frank shifted and Gerard clenched around his cock, trying to keep Frank close, but it was useless, Frank slipped out and Gerard moaned softly. "Please—" He turned his head, rubbing his face against the carpet, panting loudly.

"Doesn't look like our greedy boy is done yet," Grant murmured.

Gerard could hear sounds of movement, of a drawer sliding out, but it was distant. All he could think about was how obscene he must look, ass up on the carpet, ready and waiting to be fucked—

"No, not yet," Frank agreed. "Look at him."

Fingers dug lightly into the flesh of Gerard's ass, sparking a wave of pain, and then spread him open. He drew in a gasping breath, shaking at how much it turned him on to be displayed like this. "Oh my God—"

"Over and over, until you can't take any more," Grant reminded him, and Gerard bit his lip to keep from begging. He needed to come, needed them to put him out of his misery.

Grant kneeled in front of Gerard, cupping his face and lifting his upper body up. The position kept him bent over awkwardly, and the muscles in his stomach ached, but he could see Grant now. Grant was still wearing his dress shirt, unbuttoned but looking elegant and put together, as usual. Gerard want to touch, but didn't complain when Grant started to kiss him, soft and gentle.

Frank pressed something cool and slick against Gerard's asshole, and Gerard shuddered, caught between sensations. "It's your favorite dildo, the big blue one," he murmured. "Gonna fuck you with it until I can get it up again, and maybe Grant will take another turn, too. Just keep fucking you, over and over. . ."

Gerard gasped into Grant's mouth as Frank twisted the dildo and started to push it in, carefully. Gerard turned his head away from Grant's kiss to groan and pant.

"He's still so fucking tight, Grant," Frank said. "Gotta work the toy in slowly, don't want to hurt him."

It was exquisite torture as Frank opened him up, increment by tiny increment, rocking the dildo into him. Gerard's toes curled tightly as Frank changed the angle, pressing the toy against his prostate. It was electrifying, and the line between pleasure and pain blurred out of focus.

"Can't believe how lucky we are," Grant whispered against Gerard's lips. "Love you so fucking much, Gerard." He kissed Gerard again, stealing his breath away.

"Wish you could see yourself, Gerard. Taking everything we give to you, you're gorgeous like this, bent over for our pleasure."

"Gonna, gonna—"

"No." Grant was firm. "We're not done with you yet."

"Not even close," Frank said. "Gonna keep fucking you until you scream."

"God, please," he begged, "please, I need to come, please—" He could feel it growing out of control, a tingling under his skin, a hunger that would swallow him whole.

"Just giving you what you asked for." Gerard heard the wicked grin in Frank's voice, and he wanted to cry, even as he shoved back desperately against the dildo.

"Look at how well loved you are. You deserve to be loved." Grant murmured, and when Gerard shook his head, Grant just kissed him. "You'll believe it when we're done with you."

"Grant," Gerard whispered. "Frank, please, love you both, I'll be good for you, so good for you, just let me come—"

Grant raked his fingers through Gerard's hair, pushing it back. "Soon, sweetheart." He sealed the promise with a kiss.