“No,” Frank moans, squirming around between Gerard’s legs until he ends up with his face pressed into his stomach. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“You sound like someone shoved you into sunlight,” Gerard comments from above him. He sticks his hand into the popcorn bowl and grabs a handful, shoving it into his mouth.
“We don’t sparkle,” Frank whines, voice muffled against the front of Gerard’s t-shirt. He sounds absolutely miserable.
“No, you turn to a campfire instead. If you sparkled at least you could go outside, as long as no one saw you.”
Gerard pats his head. “I know, baby, I know.”
Twisting around on the couch again, Frank rolls over until he’s on his back. “And like, the animal thing? His dad’s a fucking doctor, I’m sure he could get some blood bags if he wanted. And don’t even get me started on the 107-year-old-virgin thing. God.”
“You’re such a slut, Frankie,” Gerard grins, tucking a few strands of hair behind Franks ear.
Frank leans into the touch and looks up at Gerard. “Only for you, babe,” he says, eyes shining with malice, but that kind that speaks of rumpled sheets and hazy smiles, lingering touches in all the right places.
Seconds later, Frank is on his knees in front of the couch, hands tight on Gerard’s hips as he rearranges him on the couch, pulling and pushing until he’s slouched against the backrest, legs spread with Frank between them.
“Frankie,” Gerard breathes, wondering if he’ll ever get used to Frank’s speed, the blurred limbs and the swishes. Probably not.
“Yeah?” Frank asks and looks up at Gerard, eyes pure, molten heat. He’s got one hand shoved up under Gerard’s t-shirt now, the other working Gerard through his pajama pants, rough and slow. On his stomach, Gerard can feel Frank’s warm breath, lips just barely brushing the pale skin.
“Tease,” Gerard bites out, head thrown back, eyes closed.
“You love it,” Frank says, which isn’t a lie, but he still moves his hands, tucks his fingers under the waistband of Gerard’s pants and pulls them down, pushing them to the floor.
“Please,” Gerard breathes, hips bucking up, just waiting for Frank to touch him.
Deciding not to waste any time – there are other things he can tease Gerard with, later – Frank wraps his hand around Gerard’s cock, pumping slowly a few times before leaning in to touch his lips to the head.
When Gerard first found out Frank was a vampire – which was pretty early on, to be honest – he was almost prepared to give up blowjobs for the rest of his life, not really sure it would work out, what with the fangs and all. He would’ve done it, too – there’s not a lot he wouldn’t do for Frank, if anything at all – but when he voiced the idea to Frank, he just pushed Gerard up against the closest flat surface, dropped to his knees, and went to town. By the end, Gerard wasn’t even coherent enough to admit he was wrong.
At first, Frank just sucks on the head, swirling his tongue around it and gathering pre-come. For him, the taste isn’t that different from blood, which is one of the reasons he likes sucking cock so much. Just one, though – he still loves everything else about it, the texture and the weight, the ache in his jaw, how wet his face always ends up. Swallowing. Yeah, he could probably spend the rest of his life just blowing people.
Or, well, not people. Just Gerard. He did the whole a-new-guy-every-night thing a while back, before they met, but when he’s got someone, especially someone like Gerard, he’s possessive, can’t – won’t share. Gerard is his – he’s got the marks to prove it, after all.
And speaking of marks, maybe – but no. That’s for later. That’s for beds, for spreading Gerard out on the sheets and admiring the scars he already has, before adding to them. It’s easier to get the blood out of the sheets than the cushions, anyway.
Covering his fangs with his lips, Frank goes down, hands tight on Gerard’s hips to make sure he doesn’t move. When his lips reach the base – he isn’t sure if his species as a whole lacks a gag reflex, or if it’s just him – he pulls them back a little, letting his teeth scrape the skin, fingers leaving marks on Gerard’s skin with the strength required to hold him down.
“Please, Frankie,” Gerard begs, chest heaving. When he lifts his head and looks down, Frank’s staring up at him, lips stretched obscenely, red and wet and swollen. His chin is glistening with spit and pre-come, and when he pulls off, there’s a thin line of it connecting his lips to the tip of Gerard’s dick.
Fisting his hand in Frank’s hair, Gerard guides his mouth back onto his cock, meeting little resistance. In other circumstances, Frank’s usually the dominant one, teasing Gerard until it borders on sadism, but Gerard’s masochistic streak is far from narrow, and he still has this – Frank on his knees, Gerard’s cock in his throat, eyes watering with pressure as he takes Gerard just a bit deeper. He can stay there for a while, too, nose pressed against Gerard’s stomach, mouth full, because although he usually does it, Frank doesn’t have to breathe, can just stay there and swallow around Gerard’s dick until Gerard’s is keening above him, hips tense with the desire to push further, faster, harder.
“Please,” Gerard begs again, words dripping from his lips like the filthiest of prayers, like he’s the one down on his knees.
Pulling off, Frank keeps his lips in a tight ring around Gerard’s cock, sucks hard on the head again, flicks his tongue into the slit. His eyes are closed now, because no matter how much Frank loves the faces Gerard makes, there’s nothing quite like hearing his heartbeat, the throb of his veins, the breathy, whiny little sounds that he’s not sure Gerard can even hear himself. There’s the smell, too, thick and musky, sweat and grime mixed with blood, a scent no less unique than a fingerprint, just like the taste, perfect in its grittiness.
Wrapping a hand around Gerard again, Frank gives him slow, teasing jerks while he leans in further, ducking down to suck Gerard’s balls into his mouth, first one and then the other.
Above him, Gerard makes a beautiful sound, high-pitched, almost like he’s in pain. Frank knows better, though, and tugs a little, before moving up to mouth at the crease of Gerard’s thigh, scraping his teeth against the skin and drawing another noise from Gerard’s lips.
“Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…” Gerard says his name like a chant, a prayer, hands tugging at Frank’s hair to get his mouth back on his dick. Feeling like he’s teased Gerard enough for one night – or at least for now – Frank obeys, giving the base of Gerard’s cock a last lick before swallowing it all. He even pries his hands off Gerard’s hips and lets him fuck his mouth in earnest, going so far as too shove his hands under Gerard’s ass and encourage him.
He’ll never say it out loud, but he sort of likes it this way, likes the feeling of being used, messed up. Compared to Gerard, though, it’s barely anything – unlike him, Frank doesn’t beg, but if he on some rare occasion happens to do so, it’s not completely without shame, not openly and unabashedly like Gerard.
It’s kind of weird, to be honest, because outside the bedroom, Frank is the one who doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks, doesn’t conform to anyone’s rules or expectations. Gerard, while generally pretty confident or simply just ignorant of what other people think of him, is still the shyer one, more hesitant, uncertain. Frank just throws himself into whatever it is he does, and while Gerard does that with most things too, Frank still catches him fidgeting in front of the mirror sometimes.
When that happens, Frank usually just wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist and buries his face in his neck, breathing in his scent and kissing the skin before telling him how beautiful he is.
Like now, when he’s got his head thrown back, long, pale neck exposed, body slumped against the cushions, the muscles of his arm flexing as he clenches the hand he’s got in Frank’s hair. His lips are red and swollen from being bitten down on, maybe even bleeding a little, if Frank isn’t confusing his smells too much. His head is swimming a little with all the sensory input, the pain in his scalp and the weight on his tongue, the heady smells and the sounds in his ears. It’s hard, even for Frank, to differ between everything, and then it becomes impossible, when Gerard finally reaches the edge and falls over, pushing up hard into Frank’s mouth as he comes down his throat, pulling back only for the last pulses to hit Frank’s lips and chin.
Opening his eyes, Gerard looks down at Frank, who looks utterly debauched with his mouth hanging open like that, come sliding down his chin, eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. And he’s not the one who just got his dick mind-blowingly sucked. Maybe Gerard has underestimated how much Frank actually likes this.
When Frank looks up, Gerard is smiling down at him, eyes hooded and warm. His face depicts orgasmic stupor in every feature, body relaxed and practically melting into the couch.
Heaving himself off the floor, Frank deposits himself in Gerard’s lap, knees on each side of Gerard’s hips, hands cupped behind his neck.
Gerard’s eyes grow big when Frank licks his lips, the tip of his tongue pushing the come around before pulling it into his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Within the next second, Gerard’s lips are on him licking every last trace of his come away from Frank’s lips.
When they break apart, they’re both smiling stupidly at each other, lips equally wet and eyes bright, Gerard’s pupils a little dilated with the effects of the venom in Frank’s spit.
“This is not what I expected when I put on Twilight,” Gerard says, and for the first time in what feels like ages they’re both aware of the menu music in the background. It kind of clashes with the mood, but Gerard’s heartbeat is still overriding most noises in Frank’s ears, and Gerard isn’t the most perceptive guy out there. Not a lot of people are when they’ve got a face full of Frank Iero.
“Me neither, to be honest,” Frank says. But then Gerard called him a slut and that made him think of blowjobs and now here they are.
Gerard grins. “So do I have to put on New Moon first or can you just fuck me now?”
Frank’s got Gerard pinned to the bed less than a second later, fingers tight around his wrists.
“I’m never gonna get used to that,” Gerard laughs breathlessly.
“Here’s for hoping you never will,” Frank says, and then they’re kissing, hot and wet and filthy from the get-go.
The venom is sugary on Gerard’s tongue, but even sweeter in his mind. It’s nothing compared to a bite, but Gerard can still feel it, the oncoming haze, the satisfaction. It relaxes his muscles, and he sighs against Frank’s mouth. Gerard loves kissing, loves the tingle in his lips after a really good make-out session, the slickness of a mouth against his, the dull pain of teeth sinking into soft flesh.
Then he met Frank, and almost fell over after their first kiss, the headrush so strong and overwhelming that he almost passed out. Now he’s built up a tolerance, and kissing only makes him feel a little fuzzy, but not much more.
He wants more, though.
“Frankie,” he begins, but he’s not really sure how he should go about it all – he knows he can ask, has done it before, so that’s not the problem at all. Asking would mean breaking the kiss, though, and he doesn’t really want to do that, because it feels so good. Frank feels so good.
But then he doesn’t, because all of a sudden he’s not there, his lips are gone and Gerard whines because despite the fact that he just got spectacularly blown, he needs Frank, needs his kisses and his hands and his body, needs it all.
Looking down at Gerard, Frank’s grin is sharp, predatory. He likes just watching him, seeing him squirm and writhe under him, eyes still closed and kiss-swollen lips parted as he moans, rutting up against Frank. He can hear Gerard’s heart thrumming wildly in his ribcage, ears catching even the faint rush of blood in his veins.
“You smell so good,” Frank says, leaning down to nuzzle Gerard’s neck, jugular pulsing against his lips. “You’re so warm...” He reaches down and cups Gerard’s cock, rubbing it gently.
“Fuck,” Gerard swears, squirming as he tries to free himself and push Frank’s hands away, but Frank’s fingers are tightly wrapped around his wrists, holding him in place. “Frankie, please…”
“Please what, babe? C’mon, Gee, tell me what you need.”
“Need you,” Gerard says. “Need more. Need you to fuck me, Frankie, please.”
“I got you,” Frank mumbles, letting his hand uncurl from around Gerard’s wrists to reach down and cup his face, kissing him and showing how much he needs this too, needs Gerard. “I got you, I promise.”
“Please,” Gerard begs again, hands pushing up under Frank’s t-shirt, tugging it off before pulling him close again, rubbing and grinding against him. His cock is still sensitive, friction bordering on painful, but despite the satisfaction of his previous orgasm, he still wants more. “Please, please, please, please, please.”
Running his fingers over the soft skin around Gerard’s hips, pushing into the dip of his hipbone, Frank looks up at Gerard, a pleading look on his face.
Gerard thinks it’s adorable that Frank still asks, every single time, despite how much Gerard obviously wants it.
“Please,” he says, and barely a second later he’s arching up again as Frank’s fangs sink into his flesh, drawing blood. He feels the rush almost immediately, heady and thick, like a fog in his mind. It dampens the pain, not just in the bite but everywhere, reduces it to nothing worse than a dull throb, and even then, it’s that kind of pain that goes straight to his dick, filling it out and making it harder in Frank’s hand, slick and wet.
“Taste so good,” Frank says as he pulls away, licking over the wound to make it heal. Not too much, though – he likes marking Gerard up, and he’s caught Gerard in front of the mirror several times before, and then not with a frown but a look of wonder on his face, brushing his fingers over the scars. Still, Gerard bleeding out isn’t something he even wants to consider, so he drags the tip of his tongue carefully over the crescent of ripped skin, watching the blood clot.
“So beautiful,” he says, kissing his way up to Gerard’s face.
Gerard blushes and preens a little through the daze, reveling in the taste of himself on Frank’s lips. It’s a lot like kissing someone just after they’ve blown you, except it’s not like that at all. It’s dirtier, somehow, and so much hotter. Gerard didn’t think he’d be as into it as he is, not in the beginning, but then Frank bit him one night when they we’re making out, sort of by accident (Frank still feels bad about it, but Gerard just smelled so good), and when he tried to apologize Gerard just pulled him close and kissed him, and that had been that. They haven’t looked back since.
“Take ‘em off,” Gerard breathes, pawing at Frank’s underwear (he was only wearing boxer-briefs and a t-shirt when they watched the movie, saying that if there’s any point in having your own place at all it’s that you don’t have to wear pants if you don’t want to). “Wanna feel you.”
There’s a lack of contact and seconds later he can hear the barely-there thud of Frank’s clothes hitting the floor. He blinks and Frank’s there again, hot and hard against him.
Sometimes, Frank does get cold, when he’s gone a long time without feeding, but it’s nothing permanent, and honestly, Gerard is glad that’s the way it is. He’d take a cold Frank over no Frank any day, obviously, but Gerard likes being able to feel Frank’s skin flush when he feeds, likes knowing that it’s him who makes it happen. It’s intimate, and intense, and basically there’s nothing like it.
“Tell me more,” Frank says and slides a thigh between Gerard’s legs, letting him grind against something. “Tell me what you want, Gee. I’ll do anything.”
Gerard whines and grinds against Frank, back arching, hips pushing off the bed. He doesn’t want to talk, isn’t even sure he can, not with his brain feeling like it’s melting and is pouring out of his ears.
“I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me,” Frank continues, which is bullshit, because Frank knows exactly what Gerard wants. He always does, but never acts like it. He doesn’t get off on ordering Gerard around and making him do things just because Frank wants it – he wants Gerard to want him, and that’s why the only order he ever gives is for Gerard to tell him what he wants. Gerard is unsure if that’s better than being told what to do.
“You’re the worst fucking tease ever, Frank, I swear to God,” Gerard bickers, but he barely finishes the sentence because suddenly Frank’s got a hand around him, pumping him, slow and sure with a slick hand. Groaning, Gerard arches up and pushes into Frank’s hand, chasing friction.
“This what you want?” Frank asks, as if Gerard’s not moaning himself hoarse beneath him. “Want my hand around cock, jerking you off until you come again? Is that what you want?”
“No,” Gerard says, and he’s quick to add a breathy, “More,” because Frank is a dick who’ll take Gerard for his word and pull his hand away if he doesn’t beg for him to keep it there. “I want – I want your fingers, Frankie, need your fingers in me. And – and then your cock, and I want you to come inside me, make a mess. Wanna feel it… Feel you. Please, Frankie.”
“That all you want?” Frank mumbles against Gerard’s neck, fangs scraping against the skin and telling Gerard he knows that’s not all he wants.
“No,” Gerard admits, and he wants to tell Frank to shut up and fucking kiss him, but he knows that’s not gonna happen, not until he says what he wants more. Which is how he ends up begging Frank to bite him, mark him up, make yet another mess, leave scars. “So everybody knows I belong to someone. Belong to you.”
Humming happily, Frank grins against Gerard’s skin, mouth pressed to his neck. He can feel Gerard’s pulse against his lips, throbbing in his veins, but when he finally bites, he avoids the bigger arteries. There’s a difference between being adventurous and stupid, after all, and Gerard bleeding out would definitely put a damper on the evening. And the sheets will get messy enough as it is.
With a bite this high up, the venom reaches Gerard’s brain quicker, and he’s thrown into bliss within seconds. They’re still not entirely sure what Frank’s spit actually contains, but from Gerard’s experiences (and there are a lot) they’ve managed to conclude that it consists of a mild sedative, a muscle relaxant, and some kind of endorphin. It doesn’t affect Frank at all, or he’d be a slurring, doped-up mess pretty much all the time, but for Gerard – well, let’s say it reminds him a little of back when he was still using, only without the paranoia and the tremors and the cold sweats. It’s basically the perfect drug.
Still, Gerard whines when Frank pulls away, instantly missing the heat of Frank’s body against his, the ache of his fangs in his flesh. They haven’t gotten this far without learning a few tricks, though, so while he digs around in the nightstand with his right hand, Frank sticks the fingers of his left in his mouth, coating them with saliva before he lets Gerard suck on them, a pleased noise escaping his lips where they’re wrapped around Frank’s fingers.
Eventually Frank finds the lube, hidden behind stacks of magazines and half-empty cigarette packets, and he’s got his fingers slicked up within seconds, pushing between Gerard’s spread legs. Gerard keens, high in his throat, feeling himself stretch to accommodate Frank’s fingers, first one, then two, three. Frank pushes all the right buttons, touching just the right spots, and it’s not long before Gerard is writhing, pushing down on Frank’s hand, legs trembling where he’s got one thrown over Franks shoulder and the other bent at the knee, foot flat to the mattress. Frank is lying between them, one hand working on opening Gerard up, the other clenched in his hair as he pushes Gerard’s head into the pillow, exposing his neck for easy access. He’s not biting, not yet – there’s only so much multitasking you can do when you’ve got a sweaty, squirming body beneath you, especially when that body belongs to Gerard Way – but he’s licking over the bite he left earlier, letting his saliva seep into the still partially open wound, giving Gerard just the hint of a rush.
“Please,” Gerard pants, hips bucking erratically, caught between thrusting up in search of friction and grinding down to make Frank’s fingers go deeper, stretch him even further. “Need you – c’mon, Frankie, please.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Frank’s says, a little breathless – technically he only needs to breathe to talk, but it’s something so ingrained in him that he doesn’t even think about it.
Throwing his other leg over Frank’s shoulder, Gerard lets him push them back until he’s almost folded in half. Somewhere along the way Frank has managed to wedge a pillow in under Gerard’s hips – Gerard’s gotten pretty used to it by now, missing a lot of the stuff Frank does, since they’re usually over before Gerard can even ask what he’s doing – and then all that’s left is for Frank to line up and push inside, and when he does – God.
Even after all this time, Gerard doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s a little like getting bitten, except it’s not like that at all. Biting is intimate like nothing else, intense as fuck and it hurts, but in the good way, and – actually, it’s just like being bitten. Which is why getting fucked and bitten at the same time is the combination to end all combinations. Cigarettes and coffee got nothing on this, and coming from Gerard, that’s saying something.
“Okay?” Frank manages to pant out, mouth sliding over Gerard’s neck, wet with spit and blood.
“Fuck,” is the first thing that comes to Gerard’s mind. “Yeah, s’good, fucking amazing, Frankie, just – “ When he trails off, Frank lifts his head and looks at him, waiting. “Don’t be careful,” Gerard finishes, blush high on his cheeks.
Frank smirks and pulls out a little, and when he thrusts back in it’s hard enough for the headboard to slam into the wall. The noise it forces out of Gerard is fucking gorgeous.
“Yeah,” he breathes and rakes his fingernails down Frank’s back, leaving deep, red crescents just above his hips. “Just – ah – like that.”
“So fucking good,” Frank says, pressing his forehead against Gerard’s, noses just a fraction of an inch shy of touching. “Always so good, Gee, fucking perfect…”
Moaning, Gerard pushes down on Frank’s cock, angling his hips to take him deeper. His legs are still over Frank’s shoulders, muscles straining, thighs tense against Frank’s chest. He can feel his entire body stretching, spine taut, and it’s almost like an ache, but the good kind, a prelude to what he’ll wake up to tomorrow.
Still, he wouldn’t mind letting Frank take the edge off.
“Frankie,” Gerard mumbles against the corner of his mouth, and when Frank opens his eyes, his neck is already exposed, left side of his face buried in the pillows.
“Oh,” Frank breathes, lowering his head to mouth at Gerard’s neck, running the tip of his tongue over the barely-there ridges of the old, faded scars. “Do you – ”
“Yes,” Gerard says, a note of determination hidden beneath the breathless lust in his voice. “Yes, Frankie, please, just – “
If there’s a sentence in there, Gerard doesn’t have time to finish it before Frank is biting down, fangs sinking into his skin. Once again, it doesn’t take long for the venom to reach Gerard’s head, and seconds later he’s writhing with the combination of pleasures, Frank stretching him and nudging at his prostate with steady thrusts, and the hazy euphoria of the venom, taking the pain away but leaving everything else.
Above him, Frank is licking over the wound again, lapping up the last droplets of blood before leaving the rest to coagulate. He didn’t take much, not this time or earlier, but it still adds up, still brings the animal inside him closer to the human, blurs the line between the two. His thrusts are harder now, faster, headboard slamming into the wall almost every time, and beneath him Gerard is pushing and pulling, tugging at Frank to keep him closer, pressing to take him deeper.
Frank, who’s been hard ever since he got down on his knees in front of the couch, is teetering on the edge, just barely keeping himself from falling over. Gerard is tight and warm around him and Frank can barely perceive anything else, knows nothing but Gerard’s body and his blood, still circulating in Frank’s system, its scent filling Frank’s nose, aftertaste still sweet and warm on his tongue.
In the end, Frank doesn’t know what pushes him over, if it’s the noises Gerard can’t seem to stop making, the saltiness of his sweat when Frank’s licks behind his ear, or maybe it’s the sound of his heartbeat, the smell of his blood.
Maybe it’s the combination of them all that’s the trigger, making Frank stutter out a vague warning before he comes, spilling deep inside Gerard, bodies pressed close.
“Please,” Gerard begs, hips bucking in search for friction. He’s so close, can feel the tightness in his stomach, but this is his second orgasm in not very long, and he needs a little more to tip him over, still spent from the first round.
Frank is quick, though, so as soon as the plea falls from Gerard’s lips, he’s there, tongue licking into Gerard’s mouth while his hand wraps around his cock, thumb sliding over the head, spreading pre-come around while he pumps the shaft.
Just before he comes, Gerard feels Frank’s come trickle out of his ass, slicking his crack as it seeps out, warm and sticky. Seconds later, the same sensation hits his stomach, where he’s shooting all over himself as well as Frank’s hand.
“Holy shit,” he gasps, practically melting into the bed, eyes falling shut against his will as he feels Frank clean him up with his mouth, twitching a little when he feels a tongue between his cheeks, tip pushing in just a little as Frank licks away the last remnants of his come.
“You good?” Frank asks, crawling up to lie beside Gerard.
“Understatement of the year,” Gerard mumbles, still basking in the afterglow, words slurred with oncoming exhaustion. “I’m fucking divine.”
“Yeah.” Laughing, Frank pulls Gerard to his chest, holding him close. “Sounds about right.”
“Love you, Frankie,” Gerard says, already drifting off, fucked out beyond belief.
Smiling, Frank nuzzles Gerard’s damp hair, presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you too, Gee.”