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If Frank had thought it through, he would have faked a cold and not shown up at school on Sunday afternoon. Or the flu - his stomach's always fucked up. It isn't like he's opposed to powderpuff football...well, okay, it's based on some really fucked gender roles, but he doesn't give a shit about wearing a cheerleading uniform with a skirt. Not like some of the assholes whining in the back of the locker room, even though they're going the balloon tits/clown wig route.

The timing's just kind of bad.

"You think Gerard would give you shit?" Ray says as he rolls his tights up. Frank's extremely jealous of his thighs. "He's co-captain of the cheer squad, dude."

"No, I just..." Frank combs his hair back and puts his own wig on. Jamia and Lindsey bought it for him, so it's long black hair in familiar pigtails. Ray holds it in place so Frank can use the bobby pins like Jamia showed him. "I don't want him to think I'm making fun of him."

Ray latches the squishy water bra Jamia also bought Frank and says, "He's going to be in a football uniform. If there's fun being made, it's mutual."


"I already saw him with Lindsey. He looks fine." Ray smiles a little sideways. "Besides, you look hot."

Coming from Ray, that means a lot.

They run onto the track when they're fully changed, pom poms shaking. The varsity and JV cheer squads are on the field in uniforms, but before Frank can spot Gerard, Jamia intercepts, eyes shining above her greasepaint streaks.

"I thought you'd fit my uniform." She tugs on the skirt a little. "How's it feel?"

"Cold. Don't you have a game to play?"

Jamia kisses him on the cheek. "To win."

She moves aside, and the rest of the cheer squad comes into view. Gerard's in the center, next to co-captain Lindsey, but everyone's heads are bowed while Gerard speaks too quietly for Frank to hear. Gerard keeps flicking the flag in the back pocket of his football pants nervously - powderpuff isn't full-contact football - and runs his hands through his hair nervously.

It's interesting seeing Gerard like this. It's easy to think he'd be super butch in the football gear and more effiminate in the cheer outfit, but that's not how it works at all. Maybe it was being around smaller, rounder women, but cheering, Frank can never look away from the angle of Gerard's jaw or the jut of his shoulders. Today, with the pads and a helmet in hand, the curves of Gerard's hips and the prettiness of his face are impossible to ignore. Frank starts to lick his lips before he tastes the chalkiness of his cheap lipstick and makes himself stop.

But Gerard looks up, and when his eyes point Frank's way, he licks his lips for Frank. Frank shifts on his feet as Gerard jogs over.

"Hey," Gerard says when he stops a couple feet away.

"Hey. You look good out there."

A comment like that the night before, when they did the dinner-and-a-movie thing for the first time, would have made Gerard duck his head or blush. Not now. Gerard's eyes are dark and fixed, and fuck, good thing Jamia's skirt isn't too short. Frank needs something to hide his growing boner.

When Gerard doesn't answer, Frank tries again. "You're QB?"

Gerard blinks hard a couple times. "Oh. Yeah. I'm bigger than most of the girls, so it's better if I'm not trying to stop anybody, and Mikey gave me some play ideas. He goes to Jets games all the time."

"Damn. Should I be threatened?"

Frank's tone is entirely joking, but the smile that appears on Gerard's face is not. It's...predatory. There's a little fear there - like Gerard's terrified of what he's capable of - but that disappears as he looks Frank up and down and steps closer. Frank shivers, and not from the autumn chill; the air feels like it's steaming between them.

Nothing like an audience. Frank twirls around a little. "Pretty enough for you?"

"Fuck yeah," Gerard breathes.

Frank could keep going like this for a while, but the ref blows the whistle, and everyone else on the field cheers. Gerard jerks, and whatever magical sex god that had replaced him disappears, replaced by the guy who sat with Frank in the car at the drive-in last night and talked for an hour about his younger brother while they shared M&Ms. Frank's relieved and disappointed at the same time.

But Gerard leans in so that his lips graze Frank's ear, and he whispers, "You'll come to my place? After?"

Abso-fucking-lutely. Frank bats his eyelashes and kisses Gerard on the cheek like Jamia had kissed Frank: quick and brushing. Just a taste.

"Maybe," he says demurely, and he runs off to join the rest of his team on the sidelines.


Gerard barely lets Frank inside the door of his basement bedroom before he's shoving him against the wall and kissing him. His mind goes blank for a minute, and all he knows is Frank grabbing his shoulders, grinding against him, Gerard reaching under Frank's skirt to feel around...

And then his brain catches up, and he pulls back, wiping the waxy lipstick off his mouth. Frank's panting against the wall, hands behind him to brace himself, but it looks like he's going to propel himself forward. Fuck, it was bad enough how amazing he looked before. But now his wig's a little messy, his lips are swollen and smeared, and his cheeks are messy. And there's a feral look to his eye.

Frank gasps a laugh. "Fuck."

"No kidding." Gerard reaches for the hem of his jersey to pull it over his head, but he pauses. "This isn't...I mean...we didn't even kiss last night."

Frank giggles and bats his eyelashes. "You worried about my virtue?"

"Um." Frank sounds so sweet when he wants to. Gerard coughs. "Maybe?"

His throat eases up when Frank slinks forward and Frank whispers, low and dirty, in his ear. "Don't."

Gerard pounces again, groaning as he reaches up and grabs Frank's ass under his skirt. Thanks to the silky panties Frank's wearing, there's practically nothing in the way. Frank rewards Gerard when he uses the handhold to bring them together by thrusting his dick against Gerard's, and Gerard sees stars for a second.

"Tell me..." Frank cranes his head back, and Gerard nips at his throat. "Fuck. Tell me what you want to do."

It's too bad Gerard can't will the blood in his body to travel back up to his cranium again. "You don't want to just go with it?"

"I want to hear it. What you want."

Gerard makes himself stop dragging his tongue around Frank's marked skin and thinks for a second. "Push those panties aside and fuck my mouth."

"Jesus," Frank moans. "You want me to sit on your face? Eat me out like the pretty girl I am?"

Gerard's brain stutters for a second - his "Is this sexist?" processors run slower when he's sporting a boner - but he moves his hands under Frank's shirt and slips under the bra for his nipples to buy himself a little time. Frank arches his back, and Gerard's thoughts catch up. Frank's doing the dirty talk version of asking if Gerard would rather kneel or lay down.

"You're fucking good at this," he says, voice a little awestruck.

Frank smirks as Gerard pulls his hands free again. "Not half bad yourself, jock."

Gerard's bed is kind of a mess, but he kicks off everything that isn't the fitted sheet and the pillows, and it's workable. He strips off his mud-spattered clothes, boxer briefs included, and gets on the bed, propping up the pillows under his head.

"Leave on the bra," Gerard says as Frank takes off the uniform. "And the panties."

"Well, yeah, got that last one." But Frank listens, and Gerard's dick twitches wetly against his stomach. The bra and panties match. They're a pretty dark pink that makes Gerard think of flowers. Or maybe the color of Frank's cock, except he hasn't seen more than the outline through the panties yet. Gerard has a good imagination when he wants, though.

Gerard rubs his hands on his thighs to keep from touching himself. "You planned this, didn't you? Wanted...wanted me to fuck you under the bleachers after the game? Or in the backseat of the car?"

Frank shivers as he crosses over to the bed, and Gerard gets a better look at the way his dick stretches the panties, leaving a wet spot in the fabric. He can't resist; he leans over, mouths at the fabric to get a taste. Frank whimpers above him.

"You can't talk if your mouth's full," Frank says with regret, but he pushes Gerard back gently and straddles his shoulders. "Guess I'll just have to blow you when we're done."

"Whatever you want, babe."

Gerard's hands skim the lace band at the top of the panties, and Frank apparently uses that as his cue to ease forward, slipping the band just enough that his dick pops out. Gerard's mouth waters. He was exactly right about the parts that flush. Almost the same color as the underwear.

While Frank guides the head of his dick into Gerard's mouth, he reaches a hand up to the bra, squeezes it almost like he's got real tits underneath. "Water bra," he says, laughing around a groan as Gerard tightens his mouth around his dick. "Better than squeezing the hell out of your hair."

Gerard pops off. "No, go for it. I can take it."

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" Frank slips the hand to fist the hair at the back of Gerard's hair. "Push me off if you're about to die, okay?"

It doesn't sound like an actual question, but Frank's hovering, still holding his dick in front of Gerard's lips. The longer there's no answer, the more Frank starts to look concerned.

Gerard might actually be in love with this dude.

"Absolutely," he says, and he grabs Frank's ass and pulls him close. Frank eases his cock inside Gerard's mouth again, and god, it's perfect, big and heavy and salty on Gerard's tongue. Gerard moves Frank's hips a couple times to give him an idea of what's comfortable, and then he takes him deep, nestling his nose against Frank's stomach. He eases back and breathes through his nose again, and that's when Frank starts humping his face, holding onto Gerard's hair for dear life.

It feels like it'll never end, the slide in and out, the moaning coming from both their mouths, and Gerard's okay with that. But Frank trembles more and more, and when he grits out, "Close", he pulls out, raising an eyebrow. Gerard nods eagerly and closes his eyes, and he can hear the slap-slap of Frank's hand on his dick as he finishes himself off. Frank's come splatters warm on his face, and Gerard has to grab onto the fitted sheet to keep from clawing Frank's back.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, both from Frank and Gerard, and Frank says, "Shit." He rolls off Gerard as Gerard opens his eyes again, and Frank doesn't look two seconds from passing out, not like Gerard after he comes. Not that it would be a big deal - Frank rolling his hips on top of Gerard, pretty panties grazing Gerard's face, is going to be great spank bank material for the rest of his life - but the look on Frank's face says they aren't done yet.

Or it could be that the wig is irritating Frank. He takes out a couple bobby pins, pulls it off his head, and scratches hard. "Nobody told me these were so fucking...gah!"

Gerard sits up and puts his hand up with Frank's. His own nails are stubbly and bitten off, but he figures it's worth a shot. Frank arches into the touch...

...and something about the whole look does it for Gerard even more. Like, Frank has kind of shaggy hair, but it's still more butch than the pigtails, and together with Frank's wrecked makeup and readjusted underwear, Gerard has to grab his dick and start jerking it. He has to.

Frank opens his eyes and gapes down. "Hey, no fair."

"Sorry, I just..." He takes his hand out of Frank's hair and brushes a finger carefully above Frank's eye. Eyeshadow and bits of what might be the remnants of mascara and eyeliner come off on his skin. "Fuck, you know how you look?"

"I've got an idea," Frank says, cocking his hip. "But why don't you tell me?"

"Hot" is about the best Gerard can do. It's partially because his mouth's a little tender, but it's mostly because Frank wraps his own hand around Gerard's and helps him jerk. It's really useful when Gerard gets close and loses any sense of rhythm; Frank's a lot better about keeping it up, and his hands are calloused like he handles a lot of balls...

Gerard snorts a laugh, and then he comes, because it's not like he isn't awkward enough already. Frank doesn't stop jerking him through it, but when Gerard's collapsed over on the bed, he asks, "Okay, dude, what the fuck."

"You..." Gerard pokes at Frank's hand. "Handle a lot of balls."

Frank's lips twitch, but he keeps a mock stern look on his face. "I'll handle your balls."

It's probably the first time Gerard doesn't fall asleep after sex. Frank's too busy poking for him to settle enough to do it.