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Getting Frank to kneel was easy. Getting him to sit still was usually the hardest part.
Frank's posture probably was not comfortable. His knees were parted on the cold wooden floor, his head resting on Gerard's lap, his hands behind his back. The singer was running a hand in his black strands of hair, fingers brushing through them in a mechanical movement.
'Fucking perfect.' He simply said, a smile gracing his features.
Although Frank was flustered, his cheeks red and his face hidden in Gerard's pants, he did not move. He stayed perfectly still, closing his eyes as Gerard kept brushing his hair back, slender fingers massaging his scalp. Staying awake was hard. But Frank would manage, moving his hands behind his back to keep himself awake. He knew how to be good for Gerard.
'Are your knees hurting?'
Frank almost snorted at the question. Of course it hurt. His friend was just somehow getting off on the fact his knees and back would torture him during the entirety of the following day. During their night show. Gerard usually kept his eyes on Frank, when the previous night had been exhausting. It was fun, seeing the guitarist torture himself with show tricks, letting himself fall onto the stage, or swinging his guitar over his head, as if he was forced to do so, even though his whole body was begging him to stop.
He nodded, keeping his chin on Gerard's lap. His answer satisfied the singer's curiosity, the older man smiling.
'But you'd stay in this position for hours if I asked you to, right?'
Frank's nod was immediate. Of course he would. He pressed a kiss to Gerard's clothed knee, wet lips rubbing against the hard denim. Gerard's hand pressed Frank's face against his leg, lightly suffocating him.
Frank simply kept peppering his pants with kisses, his hands begging him to let them touch Gerard, to let them grab his jacket, as if they were a separate part of his psyche. But he managed to keep them perfectly still, raising his head as soon as Gerard withdrew his hand. Saliva was wetting his lips, the denim covered in drool.
The singer wiped it with his thumb, tenderly wiping it on Frank's shirt.
'What would you do for me?'
'Anything.' Frank replied within a second. 'Anything, really. You know it.'
Gerard giggled. A surprised giggle, as if he was expecting something else from Frank. He cupped the guitarist's cheeks, his thumbs petting the red skin. Frank was not breaking eye contact, his eyes scanning every detail of Gerard's face, trying to decipher his facial expression.
Understanding Gerard was easy though. He was looking at Frank with the brightest of smiles, his eyes twinkling as he kept petting his hair.
Frank leaned onto his touch, eyes closing.
'No falling asleep, Frankie.' Gerard warned in a soft tone. 'I'll wake you up right up, no waiting for you to get up.'
'I'm not sleeping.' Frank said, moving his hands again in an effort to wake himself up.
'You keep closing your eyes.'
'No, I don't.' Frank replied, his eyes closed, hidden against Gerard's pants.
Gerard spread his legs, his hands bringing Frank's face towards his crotch, his hand pressing the guitarist's nose against the fabric.
'You're a shitty liar, Frankie.'
Frank gave him a look, facing Gerard's amused smile.
Listening to his urges, he pretended to bite the fabric, teeth softly pressing against Gerard's skin.
The singer's eyes widened, his smile widening. 'Of course he was into it', Frank thought. 'The sick freak.'
'You're gonna stay on your knees for a while, you know that?'
Frank simply shrugged, his eyes on Gerard.
'Don't care.'