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Though the fundamentals of what they were doing was perfectly legitimate, something about casino nightlife felt taboo and a bit risque. Perhaps it was the nature of their act, or more accurately the burlesque dancers that took the stage afterward; Frankie had been telling Gerard he would look pretty in a corset even before they met the girls. The rows upon rows of slot machines weren’t any less intoxicating, lit up with flashing neon colours to illuminate off of the smooth skin of scantily clad waitstaff who served people gambling their savings accounts with no obligation to leave the machines they sat at. There were round speckled tables peppered on the outskirts of the thickest rows of games, nestled in the blue velvet that covered the entirety of the main lounge’s floors. Standalone bars manned by two tenders at each station were placed strategically in addition to two main bars on opposite ends of the casino, all with dozens of bottles constantly filled by jeweled alcohol. As Frankie and Gerard passed by a slew of high profile poker rooms lining the eastern wall, Frankie glanced through the slightly frosted windows for a sign of Ray, but they gathered the card dealer was already ahead of them. 

The Vegas Strip at night was especially energizing. Nothing ever seemed to shut down and since the duo known as The Fire Straits had scored a residency in the heart of it all, they’d been able to upgrade their magic sets to suit their unique spin on escapology and fiery sword swallowing mixed with a plethora of other illusory tricks. Gerard had gone a little over budget with the vision, but they weren’t exactly hurting because of it. In fact, the ashy, dystopian visuals laid overtop of a classic red curtain had become half of what made them a world renowned act. The set had quickly paid itself off, leaving the two to reap the profits as tourists from all over came to see them perform. 

Within their budget had been a pair of black marching suits customized to match the grandeur and mystique of their theatrical stage presence. They were tailored and form-fitting, never to be mixed up because their own unique styles were incorporated to compliment the fundamentals of the white stripes and silver-lined shoulder cuffs. Depending on the set, Gerard would shed his uniform to work his way out of various skin tight chains and locks, much like Houdini himself. While all eyes in the joint were drawn to Gerard in these moments, Frankie had to remind themself that they were not one with the crowd. Their fit boyfriend was not theirs to stare at, they had a job to do, too. 

Frankie’s marching jacket had a built in corset; Gerard had continued to brush off their playful mentions of rib-training with the excuse that he would never get back into a corseted uniform after a stunt without Frankie to help. It was something that made the concept impossible since Frankie routinely followed Gerard with their own talent while the taller disappeared to redress before they closed the set together. 

Frankie always hung off of Gerard, feeding him with oohs and ahs when he sat with his sketchbook designing the early stages of their set and outfits. It was during one of these moments Frankie whined, “You’re sure you don’t wanna wear a corset? They’re just so sexy. It’s not too late to change the vision... ” 

Gerard’s face lit up with eureka and a somewhat evil smirk, making Frankie gasp in delight with their chin on Gerard’s shoulder while the larger swiftly added a trained waist to a drawing of Frankie’s jacket. “You’ll look better in it anyway, Bunny, and doesn’t it make more sense?” Gerard craned to look over Frankie, swallowing them with his eyes and making them visibly shiver.

Gerard had then encouraged Frankie to gather inspiration from the burlesque dancers. The girls were alluring and intimidating to the average onlooker, but Frankie was much like an extroverted imp. They quickly found the women to be sweet, plus they made Frankie laugh until their face hurt, and to top it off the girls were a surprising honeypot of knowledge and life lessons. From the very beginnings of their residency into the height of their fame, the two acts were always complimenting each other as The Fire Straits brushed by to hand over the stage. The ladies were more than happy to serve advice and it wasn’t long until Frankie was swallowing swords, fire, and swords on fire with their ribs pulled into a preposterously small diameter. Their delicate physique looked even tinier and more graceful as they stood on their toes in pointed black vintage shoes with thin laces and intricate designs carved into the worn leather atop their feet.

“I can’t wait to get out of this fucking corset, who’s idea was this again?” Frankie whined sarcastically as the two of them entered the locker room. It was just past 1:30am, an impromptu encore had gone on far longer than anticipated and all Frankie could focus on was their tight ribcage. 

Frankie was incredibly famous for carefully aligning their petite torso and sliding a flaming sword down their throat before holding their gloved hands far away from the swallowed blade to allow for speculation. That being said, both halves of the pair brought tidal waves of awe in their wake. It made it nearly impossible for the crowd to pick a favourite, just how the couple intended.

“Please,” Gerard chuckled through his nose, already using agile fingers of one hand to unbutton the round silver caps of his snug uniform, his other arm occupied by a straitjacket, chains, and padlocks. Frankie always offered to carry something despite their own armful of bejeweled daggers and swords, but these days Gerard managed with ease. He was quite toned now that he was essentially a professional at his most treasured suspended straitjacket escape. 

The tabloids and news articles had pronounced him a Modern Harry Houdini, but Gerard was no one trick pony. To keep the crowd on their toes, he sometimes introduced them to a human-sized tank of water. Gerard was more than willing to be fully submerged while chained, put on display only to escape the binds by lock-picking underwater with his breath held. He even went so far as to cuff himself to a mummy board in a coffin with a glass front for the viewing of his timely breakout. The macabre display was less appealing to casino staff, but Gerard insisted on keeping the stunt in regular rotation and the beloved Fire Straits always got what they wanted. 

Between Gerard’s escape artistry and Frankie’s sword swallowing, both were adored and revered by hundreds of thousands of active fans. Despite their skyrocketing fame, the two still favoured the civilian staff locker room, majorly due to the ease of meeting up with their friend of five years. They’d originally met in Vegas’ sketchiest venue when the three of them were fresh in the city and all trying to find their sea legs in their dream professions. “Ray, you in here already?” Gerard called out. “Oh, hey there, Big Bear,” his grin spread wide as he rounded the corner and entered a sort of annex within the maze of lockers, question answered upon seeing the poker dealer. 

Ray was already changed, leaned up against his locker and waiting. He had fairly scored his own job at the grand casino not long after his friends had been contracted two years ago. The Fire Straits had only pulled strings to allow for him to work a shift that ended alongside their set, for which Ray was grateful. He hadn’t made many more friends, but he didn’t exactly dwell on his lack of workplace comradery - Gerard and Frankie being his roommates for the past three calendar cycles kept his hands full as it were. Though if Ray were to take a gander at why he was hard pressed for company, his money would be on the daunting raised and white scar shattering the right side of his face and ricocheting heavily across the bottom half like a magnificent strike of lightning, hardly concealed under the simple black eyepatch keeping his already ponytailed and oiled afro at bay. Only tiny strands at his ears strayed free, but they hung in gentle curls to frame his scruffy, cutting jaws and smoked cedar eye. There was one shocking white streak of hair cascading through his chestnut curls in line with the longest point of his facial scar, but no one ever asked about the correlation. 

After hours, Ray switched out his patch for one that would only startle his coworkers more. The band and base pad were both black with three small leather straps sewn to the rounded corners of the generally triangular shape. The leather all connected to one silver ring resting over where his eye would be. The ring was sculpted like an Ouroboros, the serpent eating its own tail. He had locked away his fitted work suit and was wearing clothes more comfortable to his tastes: a spiked leather jacket and wrist cuffs to match, a pink and yellow Sex Pistols shirt, black shin high military boots, and red, plaid bondage pants with straps, zippers, and chains galore. His hair was still kempt and tied back and he was cleaning his already white teeth with a toothpick, the many rings hugging his fingers glistening under the fluorescent lighting. Though his shift had ended a half hour ago, he was clearly in no rush to be anywhere as he sucked the thin wood between his lush lips. “Hey,” Ray smirked, “Good set, I take it?” 

“You tell me,” Frankie immediately perked up at the sight of the man who towered half a foot taller than themself. They began emptying the big pockets they’d requested be stitched into the sides of their uniform pants, tossing wallets at Ray.  

Ray bellowed with laughter as he caught them one by one, raising an eyebrow, “Christ, how many people are gonna be pissed off tonight?”

“That’s it, I swear,” Frankie raised their hands in defence after passing over half a dozen billfolds. “Now undo me,” they whined and pouted, turning their back to Ray. 

Ray knew they were telling the truth because Frankie had started sliding off their silky white gloves and was waiting for him to unlace the elaborate bottom half of their marching jacket. “Good haul,” Ray complimented with a snicker as he finally released Frankie’s ribs from captivity, “That’s, like, all your pockets. Moth did his straitjacket trick everyone goes nuts for, then?”

“Yea… Ah, thanks, babe,” Frankie confirmed in a sigh of bliss as their ribs expanded back to a regular size. They turned around and patted Ray’s cheek before unbuttoning the front of their jacket and shrugging it off. They kicked off their shoes, pants quick to follow, and then Frankie was standing stark naked in the annex because they Didn’t Believe In Underwear. They bent over to open their locker located on the bottom row, flaunting an expanse of ink-covered ass and thighs while trading their costume for their regular clothing. 

“Jesus H Christ, Frankie,” Gerard chuckled, honeycomb eyes taking in the lewd display as he stored away his props. His exasperation could be from Frankie’s shamelessness, but Gerard wasn’t embarrassed to drink in his partner and Ray’s indulgent gaze didn’t seem to bother him either. “Six? I designed those pants, I know how many pockets there are,” his words were scolding, but his voice amused. Gerard argued he had approved six pockets for thieving purposes. Frankie insisted they were limited to six. It was an age old debate. 

Gerard had already changed, too. He spent enough time nearly naked on stage, he didn’t make a scene of it in the locker room like Frankie. Gerard preferred to set his props aside, strip quickly and quietly to his underwear and redress in a similar fashion, the same way he would backstage between acts. The only difference was that at the end of the night Gerard switched to mahogany Blundstone boots, black skinny jeans that hugged his ass, and a thick black and red The Doors ringer t-shirt. Gerard shut his locker and pulled on a jean jacket littered with buttons from various circuses, venues, concerts, and casinos. He pulled his phone from the front of his jeans, looking into the miniature mirror he had vainly glued to the back of the case and mussing his ear lengthed, downwardly spiked black hair back into place. He took a second to admire his smudged black and grey eye makeup before looking at Frankie down his wide yet pointed nose. “We don’t need those at all,” Gerard chided, but he sounded ingenuine. There were many reasons he continued to do the straitjacket routine but the biggest was the safe distraction it provided for Frankie to skitter undetected through the crowd, picking pockets of bored guests for the thrill of it.

Frankie had originally mastered the art of pickpocketing because the couple had been broke, moving across the country to pursue a mutual pipe dream, and needed some way to feed themselves. Since fortune had found them, it had evolved into a source of adrenaline rather than survival. “Yeah, well, we didn’t need Jamia on stilts in a gas mask and dystopian ball gown for the grand opening, but a budget never stopped you,” Frankie retorted with a roll of their eyes, all in jest as they referred to a lifelong friend the two had made during their time performing with a travelling circus. Not that thieving and going over budget on their extravagant set had anything to do with one another, but Frankie liked to use Gerard’s one-time grand expenditure as an excuse to continue their shenanigans, acting as though they were still paying off a crushing debt. Except they weren’t, and it really just boiled down to the tugging nostalgia of pulling off a swindle while Gerard captured the crowd with his alluring contorted body, picking padlocks and slipping out of chains that hugged him like a harness.

When Gerard brushed them off with laughter and a wave of his hand, Frankie finally started dressing themself. They pulled on black cargo pants with big side pockets much like their expertly tailored ones, tucking the bottoms into charcoal military boots they’d thrifted to match Ray. Then they pulled a white mesh shirt over their endless tattoos; the holes weren’t quite big enough to be fishnet, but provocative nonetheless. Frankie’s ink was enticing underneath the material, but even more captivating was the silver, heart shaped jewelry of their nipple piercings, shiny in any lighting. They pulled on a jean jacket that matched Gerard’s, but theirs was covered with sloppily sewn-on patches they’d acquired over the years. Frankie pushed their fingers through the spiky back of their black hair and instinctually tucked the perfect little curls behind their ear a couple of times. Their spring-day eyes were bright and when they finished redressing they leaned back against the lockers, sucking in their lip ring and fidgeting with their scant shirt. “Well, were you wearing that trick suit Gee gave you?” Frankie addressed Ray, the pads of their fingers sliding against the little holes in their top. 

Frankie’s nail polish was always chipped, but Ray offhandedly noticed that only one hand was currently painted black. With a smile, he recalled being shitfaced and asking about it only to be bombarded with a passionate explanation on how their refusal to paint both hands was one way of self-affirming their non-binariness. Ray grinned wider as Frankie thumbed at the mesh and looked at him through their lashes. He shoved his hand into one of his pockets and fumbled around a couple wallets that weren’t his before locating what he sought. When he pulled back, his hand was heavy with scammed cash and an ace of hearts lay at the very top underneath the elastic encasing the wad, “What do you think?”

“All right,” Frankie whooped, bouncing on their heels, “And to think G was gonna throw that thing away.” The Fire Straits drew in a crowd because of their specialties, but they weren’t the type of act to give it all up right off the bat. They practiced many other vanilla tricks such as setting dehydrated doves loose in the casino much to management’s vexation, and religiously torturing the crowd with mundane card tricks while they impatiently awaited the meat of the set. Possibly the only reason their fans continued to put up with the duo was their palpable charisma and ability to make hundreds of people swoon at once with flirtatious jokes and an electric stage presence atop boring card illusions. 

The marching jackets were designed with the same trick sleeves built in, so they could finally retire the cliche suits. Frankie trashed their youth-large uniform, but Gerard had been swimming in his and was happy to pass it on to Ray when the couple became properly outfitted. The black and white trick suit fit surprisingly well and, even better, looked almost identical to his regular work attire. Ray had incessantly practiced the art of swift hands on his roommates before using Gerard’s old garments to scam high-roller poker players by adding extra cards into the deck while dealing. Never too often to be found out, but enough to feel like he was still bringing something to the table while his roommates more or less pampered him with punk and metal vinyl, gorgeous decorative eye patches, takeout for life, and everything in between. Plus, scamming the rich was just…  fun. Maybe Frankie was the tiny devil on his shoulder corrupting his moral compass, but Ray could never resist the impish little smirk they gave him, not when their worlds first collided and definitely not now. 

Ray made a knowing face and turned around for them, laughing and catching Frankie when they skipped the few steps across the locker room annex and jumped onto Ray’s back. Frankie’s thighs straddled his hips and their arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, hugging him tightly. Ray grabbed hold of their knees and gave them another little boost before turning around to look at Gerard, both with foolish, scam-drunk grins. 

Gerard looked at the piggybacking set with a raised eyebrow and folded arms, “The world is so lucky you two don’t work in close quarters. You’d be committing grand larceny on the daily.” He couldn’t help laughing with them, “Guess the drinks are on everyone but us tonight.” Gerard joined them, letting Frankie reach over to squeeze his shoulder. He could act forlorn, but they all knew Gerard was their biggest enabler, always setting them up for success even if he wasn’t directly taking part in the looting. 

With their careers locked away for another night, The Fire Straits shed their fame and slipped out through an inconspicuous back exit with Ray, a triad of chiming laughter floating along behind them. Gerard and Frankie’s lavish lifestyle had potential to stretch far into the night within a lounge built for Stars, if only they didn’t choose the locker room instead. They didn’t intend to get caught in a capsule and become estranged from their roots, and thankfully Ray kept them modest when they otherwise started slipping. Since they’d been living in Vegas for years, a rich watering hole honestly meant nothing to them if it was in the same building as their working stage. Besides, they had a local pub they far preferred that played loud punk music, carried obscure brands of whisky, and best of all didn’t treat them like untouchable celebrities. 

On top of their humble attitudes, there was the ongoing scamming to consider. Gerard favoured playing it safe and liked to be out of the joint before missing wallets were traced back to Frankie, though they were beloved by many and probably hadn’t even made it onto the list of suspects. One could argue that it wasn’t fair of them never to stick around, but that’s what they held meet and greets for. The pair took plenty of time before each set to welcome at least a hundred fans, ask them questions, take pictures, and unashamedly cater to the cheekiest requests despite security’s protesting. They brought in a heavily alternative crowd and seeing the casino crawling with diversity was one of Frankie’s favourite parts.

These days, the three of them were overall happy and confident, comfortable in their digs. Ray piggybacked Frankie who bounced with laughter as he jogged them to his car. Gerard slid into the passenger seat while Frankie hopped down to take the back, and Ray wasted no time driving them to their local dive bar with The Clash carrying them the whole way. No Vegas strip or downtown buzz, just the calming outskirts where locals allowed them to simply exist.

The only problem was that it was already nearing 2am, the last call outside of the downtown strip was at 2:30 and nightlife shut down at three, so they had to get their asses in gear if they wanted to spend even a quarter of the lucre they had swindled. Ray parked his car behind the bar and the three of them circled around to an entrance that was plastered in layers and years of local posters aiming to promote and solicit different ideas. Frankie held Gerard’s hand and bounded behind Ray as the tallest led them inside and veered straight for the short but heavily tattooed man behind the counter. 

The floor was a classic black and white checkering and the ceiling was painted a smooth matte black. The entrance of the pub immediately opened into a little sitting area with a booth in the small front window and a couple other tables occupied the floor space. Looking toward the back, the actual bar stretched along almost the entirety of the left side. Fingernail and knife markings were etched into the clear resin protecting the wooden bartop and random stickers littered the front and sides of the island. The wall behind the bar held a few framed posters of theatrical punk icons that contrasted painfully next to plain business certifications. Between the wall decorations were shelves to store a small collection of common liquor, an even bigger assortment of specialty whiskey, and in the center of it all was a large glass-faced beer fridge with a neon pink light framing the door. The bright bulb lit up the whole joint, reflecting magentas, reds, and violets off of the many black surfaces. The majority of the walls were charcoal like the roof, but the right one had random jogs due to the motel office attached next door. Some smaller juts were covered with wallpaper and the arching pattern was black and white to match everything else. 

The little establishment was longer than it was wide and on crowded weekend evenings it was a bit of a chore weaving past barstools on the left, tables along the right, and well-loved antique floral chesterfields in between, all filled with rowdy and relaxed customers alike. On event nights, the back of the venue became crammed with bodies where an open dance floor turned into moshing grounds. There was a compact platform for live bands to perform on right up against the back wall, a perfect setup for untamed stage diving. Every now and then if enough drinks had been consumed, The Fire Straits could be convinced to put on a short display for their friends and acquaintances. Despite the hardcore energy of the venue, two disco balls hung from the low ceiling, one over the stage and the other closer to the front of the bar. There were also a few wrought iron chandeliers twisting into various shapes, lit up by Edison light bulbs to give the pink neon a helping hand and allow patrons some low lighting to navigate the place. The tavern was eclectic and run down, clearly only still in existence thanks to the local punks, and especially to the circus freaks and their best friend who shared a great inclination for liquor and live music.  

“Hey, Andy,” Ray dropped his car keys into the bartender’s already outstretched hand. “One doz-” he stopped short when he noticed Gerard shaking his head in his good eye’s peripherals, raising an eyebrow when the angular man lifted two pointed fingers. Ray guffawed and tilted his head in acknowledgement before addressing the barkeep again, “Two dozen shots of vanilla whisky… to start.” They could afford to leave the car, the walk back to their rented home was only a five minute jaunt, one that the trio often made late in the night while sobering up and again early the next afternoon to retrieve the vehicle. It was more about routine than convenience and logic; they’d rather drive straight to the bar after a night’s work, they didn’t have five minutes to waste walking when last call was in half an hour. 

Andy’s lips thinned in disapproval. The ginger man was covered head to toe in ink save for his gruff face. He manned the dive bar often on his lonesome, yet he hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol for longer than the trio had known him. He came off a bit hardened like Ray, but his voice was mousy, he was even two inches shorter than Frankie, and he would happily talk about the wonders of living a vegan, straight edge lifestyle if ever asked. “Coming right up,” he obliged, but his voice was thick with obvious displeasure, “Will you three ever slow down?” Andy set a clean serving tray on the bartop and started laying out rows of shot glasses with little plague doctors printed to the front of each.

Frankie let go of Gerard’s slender hand to lean against the edge of the bar, standing on their toes so that they could rest their elbows on the counter and tilt their chin into their hands. “Doubt it,” Frankie smirked. They watched Andy’s swift hand flawlessly move between shot glasses without breaking the stream of whisky flowing from a skull shaped bottle. “Oh, you’re such a peach,” Frankie chirped when Andy had finished pouring. They heaved themself up to perch briefly with their hip on the bar, body jewelry sparkling pink beneath the striking white mesh that nearly glowed in the neon. Frankie leaned over the counter and kissed Andy’s bearded cheek as he was surveying the nearly-empty bottle with distaste. His scruff had a distinct orange hue unalike to his short hair that took on a much darker shade and could almost be mistaken for brunette. Frankie hopped down with a delighted titter before Andy could scold them for having their ass on the bar, moving to carefully balance the packed tray like an armful of swords. 

Andy rolled his eyes and folded his arms, looking over the three with a slight smile, “Just don’t do anything fuckin’ absurd, please. It’s been a pretty chill night.” 

Ray snickered and slapped down cash payment with a generous tip, rocking between the balls of his feet to his heels, “Sure thing, boss.” 

*

The trinity had an exhausted repertoire of drinking games, many of which were now permanently retired because they all knew each other too well not to be predictable with the likes of Never Have I Ever. On the flip side, they’d come up with a failsafe called Medusa, good for any occasion. It was a quick and simple way to become tipsy with only one ground rule: the players lay their heads on the table, count to three before looking at one another, and those who find themselves staring directly into someone else’s eyes must drink. With only three of them playing, at least two were always sure to sip. The first round of shots dwindled and as the game sped along, Frankie kept things interesting by making obscure faces, thriving on the sound of their two favourite people braying with laughter while Andy rolled his eyes in the background.

They were seated in the unique booth in the front window that looked onto the empty street, Gerard and Frankie sitting on either side of Ray. The table had been coined theirs long before fame struck, and if ever they dropped in on a weekend and it was already occupied, people scattered to hand over the space to its owners. The leather covering the booth was a sunshine yellow but pastelled and cracked in some areas, and the table itself was rectangular and red with wiery metal legs. The bar had a few other night crawlers milling about, but for a Wednesday night the threesome was able to see all the way to the stage in the back and their energy easily dominated the atmosphere of the place.

As they stooped deeper into the flow of drinks, their volume dampened when the playful demeanour turned sultry and they had all subconsciously shuffled close. Their noses were nearly touching while the game of Medusa petered out with the last dregs of the second round that they had snagged just before the bar stopped serving for the night. It was nearing three and their buzz was about as good as it was going to get before Andy booted their asses to the curb. 

There were only two shots left when Frankie lifted their head to gaze into Ray’s chocolate eye. His iris flashed violet alongside the Ouroboros and shiny leather resting over his eyepatch, all twinkling from the pink lighting that cascaded off of the many inky surfaces and became warped in colour with distance. Frankie rested their cheek on their hands, their own leafy eyes swimming with intoxication as they focused on Ray’s lips while he claimed the second last shot. 

“Well? Drink up, Bunny,” Ray licked his broad lips after he had tipped the whisky back. He peered down his long, somewhat flat nose at Frankie sprawled out on the table, making all of the patches on their jean jacket visible. 

“Mm, nah, ’m done,” Frankie smiled sweetly and lifted their head to lean back against the seat, looking past Ray to pucker their lips at Gerard, “All yours, baby.” Frankie’s gaze strayed back to Ray as Gerard killed the second round. More specifically, Ray’s big hands that were twisting the tiny empty shot glass between his capable fingers. The rings that riddled them were all different sizes and levels of detail: gold, silver, with and without gemstones embedded, all high quality and many gifted by Frankie and Gerard themselves. Frankie felt a bit of heat pooling in their stomach, only enhanced by the vanilla liquor that made everything relaxed and honest. “I have a bone to pick with you, big man,” they started, scooting close enough to rest their legs across Ray’s lap. Frankie hooked their boots under Gerard’s knees, whose right hand automatically moved to rub Frankie’s shin.

Ray chuckled and pat Frankie’s knees, “And what would that be?”

Gerard’s left hand gently splayed against Ray’s back from the fingertips to the palm, running up over his shoulder and squeezing at the base of his neck under his ponytail where all of his baby hairs curled. Suddenly Gerard’s lips were against Ray’s ear, liquid amber eyes half lidded, “You haven’t touched them all night. How incredibly rude of you.” His other hand detached from Frankie’s leg in favour of sliding over Ray’s right hip to squeeze his inner thigh, savouring the feeling of an aimless zipper from Ray’s bondage pants pressing into Gerard’s palm. The smaller nipped at the earlobe on Ray’s blind side, making him shudder. Gerard peered over Ray’s shoulder at Frankie, molten eyes consuming them. He loved to watch, to egg them on in an… encouraging kind of way. 

“Of course. Yes, how rude of me,” Ray repeated breathily, “was too busy looking.” He sucked in his lower lip at the feeling of Gerard hanging off of him, but his hungry stare was settled on Frankie and their tattooed torso glowing underneath the almost reflective mesh. His large palm slid from Frankie’s knee up their thigh almost automatically, fingertips kneading in near their hip. “It’s getting to be that time, should probably head home soon, anyway,” Ray’s voice was a husky, slurred baritone. His fingers hooked in the belt loops of Frankie’s cargo pants and easily tugged them closer, “That way I can make up for how ill-mannered I’ve been.” 

Frankie whined softly, their lips slightly parted at the palpable feeling of all eyes eating them alive. They giggled a little upon being tugged around, their hands greedily curling around Ray’s arm as they smirked menacingly. Frankie dragged out their words in a whine, “Why walk home when the motel’s right there ‘n we’ve got more cash than we can possibly spend?” 

*

Like clockwork, the trio stumbled out of the bar just minutes before three, always the last to leave without realizing so. They might be sheepish if they weren’t so entangled in each other, arms slung around one another’s shoulders for support. Ray was laughing over something he had already forgotten as he detached himself with a mission on the mind. He winked at his roommates before letting himself into the dusty motel office next door. 

Frankie’s laughter petered out when they bit their lip at the butterflies rising in their throat in response to the simple gesture. Frankie pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, rocking back and forth on their feet as they relished the sensation of cool air that the desert night brought to their face to pair with a perfect, drunk ciggie. They peered through the window, past the outdated furniture at Ray’s broad back that was outlined by spikes. They were becoming increasingly impatient and were more than welcoming of distractions.

“Here comes Andy,” Frankie noted as the lights flickered out. They leaned back into Gerard and offered the Marlboro to share by raising their hand. 

“Mm, guess we stayed late again,” Gerard sighed, accepting the cigarette and taking a long drag. He closed his eyes and exhaled upwards in consideration as Andy started locking up the front. “Long time no see, handsome,” Gerard purred playfully, “Got any plans for tonight?”

“Hi again, Moth,” Andy rolled his eyes with a smile as he shut jail-like bars across the door, “Nothing even close to whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.” The triad was not very withheld about whatever arrangements they had, and it was generally common knowledge that Gerard and Frankie’s relationship was somewhat lax. 

“You could always join us and find out,” Frankie made kissing noises and kicked out a leg in teasing. They swayed loosely on one foot, encased by one of Gerard’s protective arms wrapping from their chest, across their barely-concealed belly to rest a hand on their hip. 

Andy snorted and shoved the keys into his pocket, preparing himself for Frankie to try and hook their boot around his thigh as he walked by, “Wouldn’t you be shocked if I said yes?” They all laughed, light-spirited, and he appreciated that they let him pass with ease. 

“Want a puff?” Gerard held out the Marlboro Red once Andy was clear of the smoke. He wiggled it between his fingers in jest, ready to be rejected. 

Andy snorted and waved Gerard off with his back already to them, but he paused and turned around, shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting into a curious stance. “Hey, why do they call you Moth, anyway? It can’t possibly be because you hate smoke. Is it, like, a sex thing?” Andy joked, tilting his head slightly to the right.

Gerard perked up a little when Andy turned around, in the middle of passing the Marb back to Frankie. “Mm?” he barked a laugh when the question registered, “No, unless you consider how benign and ordinary a moth looks, reserved almost… but isn’t there something just so peculiar and gorgeous when it spreads its wings? Brilliant.” Gerard sounded mystical and looked ridiculous wrapped around Frankie in his drunken state, fully romanticizing… moths. The pet names were really only for the trio, but Andy, the burlesque dancers, and some other close friends had unavoidably adopted them as well. Gerard liked being asked about it, he liked to be dramatic and obscure.

Frankie rolled their eyes, working their lips to exhale smoke rings before blowing them all away and looking over at Andy, “Don’t listen to him, he’s being deep. It’s mainly ‘cause he’s the moth to my flaming sword, y’know?”

“No, that’s not-” Gerard started protesting, but Andy’s chortling and Frankie’s loud continued proclamations cut him off. 

“And ‘cause he’s my lovebug,” Frankie puckered their lips again and made more kissing noises as they twisted in Gerard’s arms to incessantly pat his cheek. 

“Frankie-” Gerard snatched the cig from them in an attempted retaliation. 

Frankie gasped, eyes twinkling, “Oh my God, Mothman, anybody?” They were completely unaware of how loud they had gotten and even Ray along with the receptionist turned curiously at the muffled excitement. Ray wore a raised eyebrow and faint smile while the short, stout woman frowned to herself.

“Both of you are so fucking weird,” Andy was laughing earnestly, enamoured by their company. 

“In regards to that earlier point though, Bunny and Bear-” the gleeful look on Frankie’s face was an obvious tell that they were about to launch into some long convoluted ramble, but Andy stole away the opportunity.

“And that would be my cue. Goodnight guys, enjoy,” Andy saluted them as he shook his head with a grin, turning to leave for the second time.

“Until we meet again, Captain XVX,” Frankie sang after Andy as the little man turned the corner to reach his car in the back lot. They chuckled through their nose and tilted their head back for Gerard to guide the cigarette to their lips. Frankie made a lazy, thankful noise when Gerard assented, absentmindedly thumbing at their bottom lip.

The two stood together against the brick wall underneath a purple awning that covered the establishment fronts. The extra shade kept them fairly out of sight as they loitered restlessly, passing the cigarette between them and leaning into each other while silently cursing the turtle-like receptionist running the undesired overnight shift. Outside of the downtown core, the night was quiet without traffic and the air buzzed with crickets and cicadas. All street-front shops were dark and locked up aside from the single yellow motel window spilling onto the asphalt to mingle with the flickering amber streetlights. Gerard and Frankie stood outside of the incandescent square, but Ray’s shadow was large and hunched over into the street as he finished filling out a form inside. Down the line, the independent shopfronts eventually blended into a residential area and then the three would find themselves home… but that wasn’t nearly as thrilling. 

Ray finally let himself out of the office, taking in the pair as his good eye adjusted to the darkness. “Andy’s left?” he stepped closer to them, noting the lack of fuschia illuminating their booth in the pub window. 

“Yea, ‘s just us and the tortoise,” Frankie confirmed, blowing smoke at Ray with a snicker. 

“Hey,” Ray plucked the cig from Frankie’s hand, but he bared his white teeth in a sloppy grin. The paper burned down to the orange filter as Ray took the last harsh pull. He couldn’t exactly remember when he had succumbed to the vice, but he blamed it entirely on his friends. “How nice of you to save some for me,” Ray’s voice was painfully sarcastic. He carelessly flicked the smouldering butt to the pavement before turning his full attention to the boys. His strong hands found their way to tenderly cradle both faces, his rings cool against their skin. He would be lying if he didn’t admit he was feeling impatient, too.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Gerard breathed out through his nose. His eyes gave him away by fluttering ever so slightly while Frankie allowed a whine of yearning to slip from their pierced lips. 

Frankie instinctively followed Ray’s touch, rising onto their toes in anticipation. “D’you have the room key?” They wanted Ray to close the space and kiss them so fucking badly. 

Instead, Ray’s hand slid from Frankie’s jaw to their throat, squeezing at the sides and restraining them less than an inch away from his own face. He licked along his lower lip at the gutteral noise Frankie made to match the carnal desperation in their eyes. “‘Course I have the key. Room thirteen. Now come,” he murmured. Ray pulled back, his hands sliding into both men’s hair. He curled them into commanding fists, urging the duo to move with a slight tug of his wrists. Ray loved how they both melted towards him in unison. He let them hold onto his elbows, shuffling so close their legs all tangled together as they guided Ray backwards to the two star suite that awaited them.

*

The motel room was a 70s time capsule, as if nothing had been touched for decades. The walls were a paisley yellow except for the right side which was covered in wood panelling that didn’t get dusted nearly enough. The carpet was an amalgamation of messy oranges and reds and curtains to match, but the colours were drawn out like long, thick paint strokes on the sun-faded material. All of the big furniture was made of fragile-looking yet sturdy cherrywood and the lamps were strange, bulbous with nostalgic floral patterns hand painted around the bases. The king sized bed headboard was made of brown leather and the comforter was a mustard yellow that might be charming if it wasn’t stained and stretched beyond its lifespan.

Ray dropped all of the swiped wallets and loose cash onto the creaky bed. They all wore foolish, gleeful grins as they shed their outerwear before Gerard moved to sort the cash into one massive wad. He didn’t actually count it; it didn’t matter how much there was, it was too much and frankly, it was dangerous to hold onto for too long. There was already the task of going undetected while throwing the wallets into mailboxes with their fingerprints wiped and everything else intact save for the cash. With an ID inside, each billfold would be returned to the owners free of postal charge as if they were lost, but Gerard still insisted on spreading them between various mail boxes across Vegas. Frankie carelessly lit another cigarette despite being indoors, watching as Gerard began spreading the dirty money all over the equally questionable mattress.

Smoke escaped from Frankie’s lungs when they gasped at the sight, “Holy shit, that’s hot.” They twisted to look at Ray who was setting his eyepatch on top of the small entertainment unit supporting an even smaller tabletop tv. Their knees nearly buckled at the sight of him, breath catching in their throat. They reached for Ray, coaxing him closer, “Damn, are you and Gee gonna take turns fucking me on this filthy motel bed covered in filthy fuckin’ cash?” 

“Hope that question is rhetorical,” Ray smirked at the needy look dawning on Frankie’s face, opening both eyes and stepping into their space to claim their hips with a tight grasp of his hands. Without the eyepatch, Ray still had a second eye - curious coworkers would be disappointed, or maybe relieved, if they were ever to find out that he didn’t have a glass replacement nor an empty socket. No, his right iris was a striking icy blue with a white and blind pupil deeply contrasting his dark and oaky seeing eye. The large scar slashed clean through his eyelid in a finalizing way like electricity, or a machete, or maybe a fist full of glass. 

Although Ray was comfortable shedding the covering around them, he still hadn’t told his two best people the story behind the physical trauma. No matter how wasted they got, how many secrets were spilled, Ray’s biggest truth was never included amongst the many other whisperings. Frankie had asked a single time, pushed it too far. Ray was never a violent type, but the chill that filled the room when his demeanour turned stoic easily let Frankie know it was absolutely not a topic up for discussion. His seeing eye had formed into hardwood, making Frankie squeamish and guilty until Ray vocalized forgiveness hours later. 

Frankie instantly learned their lesson, reapproaching the subject as they slowly became closer with the usually gentle giant. They’d come to find that Ray didn’t mind revealing his face or even talking about it presently, so long as the conversation didn’t veer in the direction of the source itself. He’d even begun to let the couple touch the forever raised scars and whisper sweet compliments in unsolicited attempts to boost his self image.

“Oh… just look at you,” Frankie spoke so softly, voice thick with sentiments. Their genuineness was tangible as they pushed into Ray’s hands and reached up to briefly stroke the part of the scar that robbed his cheek. Frankie only paused to stub out their cigarette in a motel provided ashtray on the bedside table. Then they lifted both of their tattooed hands to Ray’s face, gently squeezing his cheeks and thumbing at his scruffy jaw. They began softly tracing the lower half of Ray’s scar with their left hand, muscle memory leading their finger pads along all of the tiny twigs and branches along his face that made his beard patchy. “Can I kiss you?” Frankie whispered. Ray’s fingers dug hard into their hips at the words, causing Frankie to involuntarily press their chests together with a sharp little inhale of anticipation. 

Ray let his eyes slide shut as he worked to keep his breath balanced. His short eyelashes fluttered in reaction to Frankie gently pursuing the lesion across his lid before their fingers skittered along the scar through the slit in his eyebrow and up over his forehead until they were reaching into the luminous white streak running through his hair. “‘Course you can,” Ray murmured back, his own fingertips inching up the mesh to rest on Frankie’s belly. The buzz was making his words simple and Ray’s brilliant eyes were slow to open with only enough time to catch a short glimpse of Frankie as they rose onto their toes and closed the space.

Frankie kissed Ray firmly, quiet and closed-mouthed at first as they instinctively tightened their hand in his hair. Their damp, soft lips and subtle enticing movements were commanding but they couldn’t help mewling when Ray nipped at their lip ring before sucking their lower lip between his teeth. The slender digits of their right hand still cradled Ray’s face like he might be bluffing and pull away, but their forehead relaxed at the buzz of Ray humming low in his throat.

Ray’s left arm slid around Frankie’s back while the other hand curiously worked its way further up their poor excuse for a shirt, thumbing at the heart shaped jewelry. His plush lips went taut in a chuckle against Frankie’s as their nipple hardened beneath his touch, extra sensitive from the piercing. “Eager,” Ray murmured before deepening the kiss, but Frankie pulled back soon after only to prove his theory by swiftly tugging their shirt off and throwing it towards the pile of jackets on the dresser against the wall. 

“So what if I am?” Frankie retorted. They resettled in Ray’s embrace, moving to tug at his hair with a wicked smirk until the ponytail came loose. They growled in renewed fervour at the sight of his curls springing wild with the day’s products diminished and no elastic to hold it back. “Been thinking ‘bout those quick fingers,” Frankie’s breath hitched as they grabbed hold of Ray’s waistline, forcing his bondage pants open so that they dropped to the floor for him to step out of, “and that big cock.” Their hands greedily pushed up his cement stomach, sliding over the divots of slightly pronounced abs that had developed with work and age. Frankie sometimes missed biting at his once-pudgy belly, but they couldn’t complain in the slightest about their current handful. 

Ray’s frame was towering but solid, safe and best of all, familiar. Frankie whined from the back of their throat as they scrambled to help him out of the yellow shirt. Then they were frantically kissing Ray again, swallowing him whole and on their toes reaching to grind their groins together. Their hand was squashed between them as Frankie squeezed the outline of Ray’s quickly hardening erection through his black boxers, their free hand making its way back to his afro and petting back the white shock of hair.

Ray was swiftly losing all of his lucid thoughts to Frankie and the way their tongue slid against his lips and then past them. The set leaked soft wet sounds as their tongues met and Ray throbbed in Frankie’s hand when he felt the smooth coolness of their steel tongue piercing. His dick was already twitching at the phantom feeling of the jewelry manipulating him in unfair ways. His hands finally released their back, moving to the front of their cargo pants and all but shoving them down to leave Frankie naked. It was those moments Ray felt there was a personal gain to be had from Frankie’s exhibitionist tendencies. 

With their lips parted, tongues dipping between, and hands roaming at will, the two had passed the preparation time quickly, and then some. Ray’s hand hadn’t quite reached Frankie’s dick in reciprocation when Gerard’s fingers were curling around Ray’s shoulder on his seeing side. Ray broke the kiss, but Gerard was making encouraging noises and nudging him toward the bed. 

In truth, it hadn’t taken Gerard very long to spread the handfuls of cash over the mattress. He didn’t feel forgotten by any account, he knew his worth and he sometimes just liked watching, in many forms. It wasn’t only sexual gratification: Gerard liked observing his companions existing in their home, together or alone, in the morning versus at night, just… being. Though he did love watching Frankie and Ray crash together, the half foot standing height gap stacked on top of a vast difference in body types made Frankie look even tinier than they actually were. That alone made Gerard ache with lust. 

Gerard had patiently allowed them time to undress, already composing a mental oil painting of their dynamic bodies sprawled in the lucre. “It’s ready for you,” he murmured, smirking and dropping his hand only to lean forward and sink his teeth teasingly into Ray’s shoulder before slapping his ass. “And you might need this if you want to stretch our little fuckbunny’s pretty asshole open for me,” Gerard half-chided but his eyes were sultry. He pressed a small tube of lube into Ray’s hand that had been hovering above Frankie’s yearning length. It was always Gerard to be the prepared, organized one and his crooked smirk showed he knew it.

Frankie bit their lip in heated anticipation at Gerard’s words, imagining first Ray’s stocky fingers and then Gerard’s thick member, but their tone was jokingly antagonizing as their face lifted, “Yeah, Bear, be nice to-” They shrieked with glee when strong hands grabbed their hips and lifted them off of their feet, the little tube briefly pressing against their skin. 

Like a rag doll, Ray tossed a very naked Frankie along with the lube onto their back on the overcrowded bed. The paper stirred beneath them and Ray caused even more cash to flutter from the springy mattress to the equally as stained floor as he playfully jumped onto his knees beside them. He wasted no time spitting in his hand before leaning over Frankie and resuming the hungry kiss as if it had never been interrupted. His messy hand finally connected with Frankie’s needy cock and pumped around it a few times before he squeezed the upper shaft and thumbed circles just underneath the slit on the head of their dick. They were longer than they were thick, technically the smallest of the three of them, but it was no matter. Ray grunted into Frankie’s mouth when the pad of his thumb mingled with warm titanium that belonged to a Prince Albert piercing and sent bursts of sensation from Frankie’s slit through the underside of the head of their dick. 

Frankie mewled and liquified into the green pile of dollars. It was as if the thousands of hands that had been all over the cash were now sliding against their body, caressing them. It was a fantasy Gerard had brought to life by surprise, for Frankie barely even remembered they had mentioned in passing their interest in being fucked bareback on a pile of raw cash. They were theoretically being touched everywhere, but the pique of electricity came from the wet warmth of Ray’s big hand. He had a way of tugging and rubbing just the right way, and it made Frankie fumble as they attempted to open the lube. 

Ray begrudgingly released Frankie’s cock, but he didn’t break the rhythmic kiss, thick lips fitting gracefully with Frankie’s thinner set as they suckled and nipped while trying to simultaneously focus on the main task at hand. He blindly held out his hand when Frankie had bested the bottle. They searched until the tube connected with Ray’s fingers before Frankie squeezed a dime-sized amount onto his digits. Ray rubbed the lube between his middle, ring fingers and thumb before pressing against their inner thigh with his palm. 

Frankie sighed and tugged Ray’s lip between their teeth, their already involuntarily spread legs going wider as Ray’s palm slid up their thigh. Their eyebrows pulled together and they placed the lube within reach before weaving both hands into Ray’s hair and angling their hips to search for his fingers. His grip was like a vice around Frankie’s heart that sent jolts along their spine and they needed him to give them more. 

Ray smirked, breathing in little huffs as Frankie sucked on his lower lip, but he wasn’t easily distracted. His dry hand moved to Frankie’s hip, pulling the side of their ass taut to make it easy for Ray to circle his slick fingertips teasingly around the rim of Frankie’s hole. He groaned softly at the increasing direness in the way Frankie sucked on his lip, but his fingers remained at the surface until the smaller was pulling at his hair so he was forced to break and meet Frankie’s controlling eyes. 

Frankie growled like a feral dog threatening to bite, glaring directly into Ray’s multi-coloured eyes. “If you don’t fingerfuck me now, I won’t suck your dick for a whole month.”

Ray silently raised an eyebrow, holding their gaze while smirking smugly and continuing to tease his fingers around the edge of their pulsing entrance. The two he would use were barren, but the jewelry on his thumb and index finger knocked together, clinking in foreshadowing. They were engaged in an intense battle of wills that was beginning to crack with a sheen of sweat on Frankie’s forehead until Gerard’s voice sliced through the sex-thickened air, drawing their attention to his icy, barren chest.

“You sure about that, Frankie? You love to swallow dick, ‘cause you’re a little fucking cockwhore, aren’t you? No way you could go a month without begging him to fuck that pretty throat,” Gerard’s voice was velvet. He had already shed his t-shirt and was in the midst of shimmying out of his jeans before pulling himself out of his boxers. Gerard squeezed his own erection and rubbed his thumb against the top of his shaft, standing a few feet from the foot of the bed and gazing between their perspiring faces and Ray’s fingers circling Frankie’s pink asshole, angled upwards as if presenting just for Gerard. He licked his lips and addressed Ray, “I think you should give them what they want, but only if they answer our question, hm?”

Ray grinned menacingly, turning to Frankie and spanking the side of their ass before spreading it tight again. “Well, Bunny? Are you our little cockslut?” Ray leaned forward to bite playfully at their chin. 

Frankie moaned and at the same time let out a laugh that sounded nervous because it was dripping with desperation. They squirmed towards Ray’s touch, tugging at his afro in a fashion that was more frantic with need than calculated and commanding like before. Their voice came out in an airy, impatient whine as they exposed their throat, “Yes, fucking use me, please, please, fuck me however you want, make me your cunt, Ray, Gee, please-” Frankie gasped and cried out in rejoice when Ray’s middle finger finally pressed a knuckle deep into their relaxed entrance, crooking slightly as he began to work them open.

“That’s it,” Gerard purred, stroking his own cock to the visual of Frankie squirming and rocking down on Ray’s digit until he obliged with the second one. “Impatient little Thing, so eager to be fucked and filled. God, just look at the two of you, fucking perfect,” Gerard complimented, parting his lips to grunt as he swiped at the head of his dick, “You look like goddamn pornstars on that heap of gold, like you should be paid to fuck.” 

Frankie had only wanted to splurge their newfound fortune on one thing, and that was tattoos. As a result, nearly all of their olive skin was outfitted in gorgeous ink that ebbed and flowed with their delicate joints and their collection of body piercings only complimented the work further. Frankie whimpered at the string of words, arching their back and letting go of Ray to run their hands through and loose papers around them. They spread their legs wider yet, obscene with their display as their heels dug into the bedstead and Ray quickened his pace while curling his fingers deeper in search of their prostate.

“How rude of you, slut. Two free hands and no love to give,” Gerard prompted, his right hand properly masturbating with a quickened pace to the live sex show.

“Ah,” was all Frankie could manage, but it was a sound of both eureka and submission. They were quick to oblige, both hands disappearing between them to finally guide Ray’s heavy cock out of his boxers. Frankie raised their right hand to lick their palm before wrapping it around him, their other hand flying to their own dick as they began to simultaneously stroke, eliciting moans from them both. As Frankie squeezed him, the feeling of the thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock caused them to clench around his fingers with a breathy noise. Their stomach heaved at their lack of breath as Ray’s hand slid from the round of their ass to their inner thigh, holding their shaking leg open as he grazed their prostate. 

Ray grunted, subconsciously rocking his hips into Frankie’s helping hand as he quickened his pace, fingerfucking them with short, tight movements now that he had nudged their prostate. His seeing eye drank in enough of Frankie to satiate both, the image so rich his lips were parted with the retired kiss lingering between them. 

‘Yeah, just like that. God those slick noises, the moans- the way you’re spreading them open, their hands all over you, your chemistry is fucking dripping,” Gerard was insatiable, his hand rapid as he described the scene he was about to invade.

Frankie was unhinged, letting out a plethora of insatiable noises as Ray worked his thick and skilled fingers to the tempo of Gerard’s seductive voice. Ray’s palm was facing upward, middle and ring fingers deep inside Frankie and methodically curling upwards, the index and pinky bent back underneath their ass. For the longest moment, Frankie couldn’t peel their eyes away from the larger man’s torn-up face, icy and oaky eyes alike so distracted and unable to focus on one tattoo, nor one twitching muscle. The tension had been built up so high and Ray’s gaze practically carved into their skin as he worked hard to unravel them, pull them apart from the inside out. Frankie started panting, moans becoming high on the upstroke of their fists and they caught Ray’s attention in a split second of panic out of fear for finishing too soon.

Ray’s parted lips pursed together in a knowing smirk as Frankie let go of themself and Ray slowed his fingers, pulling out slightly only to twist them and draw a tortured whine from the smaller. Ray and Frankie both looked up at Gerard, but it was Ray to speak, “Well? You comin’, lovebug?”  

Gerard blinked, his all-devouring eyes shifting into acute focus. “Mm,” he assented, stepping out of his boxers and shifting toward the bed. “Sit up, brat.” Gerard’s little teeth formed into a jagged leer as Ray used one hand to shove all of the available and lumpy pillows underneath Frankie’s lower back, his occupied fingers still working lazily so that Frankie wouldn’t expire early. 

Ray watched as Gerard slid both of his hands along Frankie’s inner thighs. The lean man climbed into the cash between their legs as Ray eased his digits out of Frankie’s hole, leaving them well prepared. Ray moved to splay supporting palms beneath Frankie’s back as they focused their upper body strength on remaining in a semi sitting position. He idly fucked into Frankie’s distracted fist, both entranced by Gerard hooking his knees under Frankie’s hips while swiping away a droplet of precum from the head of his condomless dick. They were all tested, clean, longtime sexual partners, and Ray wasn’t currently seeing anyone else so the box of condoms had been shelved for… a while. 

Gerard hummed low in his throat, quickly lubing up before pressing against Frankie’s hole. He broke the bedroom talk for a moment of communication, “Ready, my love? Is everybody okay?”

“Peachy,” Ray smiled in appreciation. 

“Ready,” Frankie whispered. They let go of Ray entirely, both hands instead pushing into Gerard’s short black hair, to tug him down into a kiss so vehement it nearly robbed him of his breath. Their lips were already silky and wet, plump from being bitten by Ray and beyond primed for more. They were locked for a moment in a flurry of teeth and tongues, silently struggling in a tangle as they battled for the unspoken title of who needed the other most.  

Frankie gasped a little against Gerard’s lips and let their weight rest against Ray’s capable hands when Gerard finally started pressing in. He was average in length, but had extra girth and a slight curve that proved an effective enough distraction for Gerard to overpower the kiss with sweet lovebites to their lips. Gerard took his time pressing past the initial ring of tension, swallowing all of Frankie’s ruthless moans. He felt Frankie open up around him, slowly filling them, and moved both hands to their hips in preparation, nails sharp on their skin. Gerard deepened the kiss before pulling away to straighten up a little, easing his cock halfway out, and beginning to fuck back in with purpose. 

Frankie’s eyebrows furrowed immediately at the pulsing pleasure in the depths of their stomach, head falling back and the heels of their feet moving to dig into Gerard’s tailbone. They lost their bearings momentarily even though Gerard had started slow, blindly reaching out for something to grip onto and coming up with one of Gerard’s forearms and Ray’s shaggy chest. Their breath kept catching in delighted whimpers as Gerard picked up the pace, angling his hips and already sliding in and out with ease. 

Ray grunted, taking a moment to watch Gerard’s movements with husky breathing. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he couldn’t help noting the silken noises of Gerard’s ivory pelvis slapping against the round of Frankie’s tattooed ass, namely a set of Rocky Horror lips bold and red just above the crease of their upper thigh. Ray made certain the pillows were doing a proper job before moving his hands to cradle Frankie’s face while they pawed uselessly at his chest. “You mentioned something about sucking me off?” he murmured, their faces close but not so much as to exclude Gerard from the exchange. 

“I- did,” Frankie could barely fucking speak, Gerard had already found their prostate and was purposely hitting it at random.

“You want me to fuck your throat? Fill both holes? I know that’s your favourite way to have us, like a fuckin’ human gloryhole, hm?” Ray murmured, tracing the arch of Frankie’s brow bone as his blind and seeing eyes alike pierced through them. 

Frankie squalled and nodded frantically, unable to enunciate any real words. They simply let their jaws fall slack, relaxing their head back as Ray kicked off his boxers and resituated on his knees so he was parallel with Gerard. The pillows beneath Frankie arched them into a sort of bridge between the two. Frankie released Gerard’s forearm and reached above their head with both hands, one to grip Ray’s thigh and the other to guide his oversized and twitching member to their lips as Gerard’s relentless hips repeatedly nudged them closer to their overly masculine partner. 

Ray let out an audible groan once Frankie’s tongue started swirling around the bulbous head of his cock. Their tongue piercing dipped into his slit before dragging along the underside of the somehow even thicker shaft. They began to bob their head, slacking more in order to take him in. Ray eased his fingers through Frankie’s already sweat-matted hair, waiting for the noise of approval to signal that the sword swallower was prepared. 

Frankie squeezed Ray’s thigh hard and stopped bobbing in favour of letting him fuck into their mouth whenever Gerard pulled back. Ray swore at the hot springs forming in his stomach in response to his extra length hitting the back of Frankie’s throat and sliding further with each measured thrust. He never had a partner that could take all of him without gagging, and it seemed as though Frankie had no reflex to be breached. They moaned around his cock, heels grinding into Gerard’s back and hands blindly grasping at Ray’s hips until Frankie had a hold of his ass and was digging their nails into his flesh in the same fashion Gerard was bruising their hips, like another cue. 

Ray looked up at Gerard who nodded. Both paused for a split second before changing the pace completely. They fucked into Frankie roughly and simultaneously, making it that much deeper on both ends. Ray’s gentle curls were stuck to his face and little droplets of sweat were starting to drip from his chin onto Frankie’s throat and face as Ray leaned forward to thumb at their pierced nipples while ruthlessly fucking deep into their throat. No one else could take it like that. Ray could hear Frankie breathing raggedly through their nose, throat buzzing and jewelry dragging along the upper side of his shaft as they moaned freely around it. Ray’s cock throbbed against their tongue as he and Gerard used Frankie’s holes to their liking, bodies moving based off their most fundamental needs. Ray looked up from Frankie’s stretched lips when they started whining in warning again, his hips slowing in sync with Gerard’s as they both eased out.

Frankie dissolved into the pillows and loose money, but their blissful panting was cut short with a squeal of laughter when Gerard pulled the plush out from under their back as Ray situated between their legs instead. Frankie licked their lips, still warm and buzzing slightly from the liquor though it was quickly wearing off in their escapades. They watched as Ray uncapped the lube again to slick himself up before Gerard obstructed their view by moving to straddle their chest with his back to Ray. Frankie refocused and smirked instantly, both hands whipping up to spank either side of Gerard’s toned ass before hooking around his thighs and eagerly moving to pull him onto their face. The chiding noise of protest at their lack of patience almost brought on an onslaught of vocalized complaints, but Frankie realized there must be a reason and stuttered over their tongue when they noticed the golden plug hovering over their nose. “Fuck, when did you have time for this?” Frankie chewed on their lip, hooking their fingers around the base of the buttplug and watching Gerard’s hole clench around it as they coaxed it out.

“Please,” Gerard snorted in disbelief, but the noise petered into a needy moan as he rocked towards Frankie’s hand at the loss of the plug. “You two were lost in Wonderland for quite some time,” he said matter-of-factly, hissing with an immediate loss to his edge when Frankie discarded the toy and pulled him the rest of the way to sit on their face. His eyes widened, thighs clenching around the sides of Frankie’s head, hands speeding to pull at their hair, and toes instinctively curling under their shoulders. Frankie’s tongue piercing swirled around the rim before dipping into Gerard’s already primed entrance. “Oh my God, Frankie, you fucking whore, you fucking-” Gerard broke off in a cry, bested. He was already jolting as Frankie started tongue fucking him, nails clenching onto his thigh muscles while they hiked up their knees to present themself for Ray. 

Ray growled at the sight of Gerard grinding down onto Frankie’s mouth, his hands moving to spread Frankie’s ass in order to peer at their stretched, pulsing asshole. He guided the head of his cock past the rim, also without a condom. Ray felt Frankie freeze momentarily before they started emitting ungodly noises beneath Gerard. Ray took extra time because he was packing nearly ten with at least three fingers width. He held Frankie spread with one thumb, the other hand helping press in firmly until Frankie managed to accept him. Then both of Ray’s hands slid to the undersides of Frankie’s thighs, holding their legs back as he felt the smaller adjust around him. When safe, he began to build a rhythm in time with the sound of Frankie’s working tongue. 

Frankie was already shaking, overstimulated in the best way. Ray’s cock was so fucking big they could feel it prodding at the pit of their stomach as the thrusts became faster. Ray’s big package sliding into Frankie’s tight little hole created heavenly, slippery noises impossible for any of them to ignore. Frankie’s dick was speaking for them, twitching and leaking in desperation to be touched. They braced themself to be fucked into bedrest, pulling Gerard closer if it were possible and practically begging him to suffocate them with their body language. They tongued deep as they could manage, swirling inside of Gerard’s hole as he rocked down in avid encouragement. Frankie even managed to unlatch one clawed hand to clumsily jerk Gerard, squeezing on the upstroke. 

“Come on, Houdini, aren’t you going to show us your magic trick?” Ray’s voice was a little breathless. He was so focused on reaching the point of relentlessly railing Frankie just the way the petite power bottom would be demanding by now if only their lips were free. 

Gerard was already ahead of Ray, making Frankie’s tongue fumble and breath come out in a hot puff as they felt a shift above. Gerard was using his affinity for contorting out of tight spaces to his advantage, fingers detangling from Frankie’s hair to feel his way back. With ease, Gerard remained seated on Frankie’s dutiful tongue while bending entirely backwards in a perfect arch. One hand stayed on the cash-covered mattress for balance while the other guided Frankie’s length into his mouth. Gerard couldn’t help moaning, swallowing around them as Frankie ate him out and Ray remained kneeled between their legs, still fucking Frankie with fervour. Gerard gained his bearings, listening to Frankie’s carnal guttural noises as he began to bob his head upside down, sliding his tongue against Frankie’s dick piercing each time.

Frankie could barely fucking handle it. All of their major points of sensitivity were being played with, sucked and fucked and used. Drool was sliding down Frankie’s shaft as Gerard secreted garbled sounds of deepthroating, which were mingling with Ray’s skin slapping against Frankie’s while he pounded their prostate. It was so headsplittingly good that Frankie could barely maintain their tongue’s pace let alone the loose fist trying to attend to Gerard’s member.  When they weren’t sure they would last a second longer, they began smacking at Gerard’s thigh in warning, expecting things to halt again for a chance to catch their breath. 

On the contrary, Ray met Gerard’s eyes with an electric smirk, one hand shooting from Frankie’s thigh straight to Gerard’s throat without second thought. They somehow both knew what was about to happen before it had consciously registered; Ray was squeezing at all the right pressure points while holding Gerard down onto Frankie’s dick and fucking his own hips evermore erratically. They weren’t stopping for Frankie, no, the two were pushing them past the point of no return. 

Gerard did his part, though he could barely focus either. With Ray’s big hand around his throat, body contorted into modern art, and Frankie filling both holes, Gerard hardly had time to steel himself when the warning twitch came. The room was filled by a chorus of grunts and breathy moans, three souls attempting to withstand the urge to unravel entirely. 

Frankie couldn’t hold on any longer. They abruptly pushed their head back into the mattress, creating room to gasp for air and whine in a high-pitched cry as their hips jerked, momentarily gagging Gerard when their Prince Albert piercing bumped the back of his throat. Ray kept Gerard down, unrelenting as Frankie shuddered violently beneath him and let themself uncoil, cumming in Gerard’s mouth. “Moth, oh my fuck-” they were practically shouting as Gerard swallowed hard around Frankie’s dick, expertly taking each pump of their load as Ray’s fingers eased up to gently pet Gerard’s upside down, bobbing adam’s apple. “Bear, fuck me, don’t stop- there, ah, shit,” Frankie was verging on nonsensical, glad for Ray’s single hand still holding their shaking leg steady as he fucked them through their climax. Frankie’s face and chest burned pink in content and waves of euphoria were still rippling across their skin. They squeezed both of Gerard’s thighs, biting his asscheek with a big grin and long eyelashes that fluttered against his fair skin. 

Ray’s hands both flew to Frankie’s hips as he bucked his hips a final time, stilling deep inside of Frankie only to grind the head of his cock against their prostate. Gerard had pulled off of their dick with a pop, using one hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth before suckling and licking lazily at their piercing. 

Still, it was too fucking much for Frankie to endure. They were writhing from overstimulation, grabbing fistfuls of cash and carelessly tossing them off the edge of the bed. Their heels dug into Ray’s sturdy thighs and stomach but he pushed their legs back open and bucked in again, grinding his hips harder to the sound of Frankie’s unhinged shrieks. They gasped raggedly when Ray finally released them, pulling out and groaning as he held them still, spreading their ass to take a look at how stretched they had become. 

Gerard watched from his upside down perspective, breathing in wonder and graciously allowing Frankie to sink their teeth into his flesh. He raised his eyes from Frankie’s used entrance to Ray’s sweat-soaked face, licking his lips in focus. “Spit in it,” Gerard deadpanned, his eyes consuming every little unique feature Ray had to offer.

Ray’s eyebrows shot up at the absolute shamelessness of it all but he obliged without much hesitation, spitting into Frankie’s asshole to the sound of Gerard’s dirty gratification and groaning at how fucking hot it was to see it disappear. Finally Ray let go of them while Gerard concurrently straightened his back and rose onto his knees for Frankie to roll aside, allowing them to curl in on themself and catch their breath.

Ray broke the fourth wall this time, big hands sliding over Frankie’s fragile tattooed back. He could see Gerard in his peripherals lazily tugging at himself to Frankie shaking and Ray checking in on his most loved. “You still with us, Bun?” Ray murmured against their shoulder, stamping little kisses all along their collar and neck until he was nuzzling their cheek. 

“That tickles,” Frankie giggled and scrunched up their nose, followed by a peaceful sigh. They reached up to pat Ray’s cheek in return, “‘m with you. Jus’ need a minute.”

Gerard reached over and squeezed Frankie’s calf, teasing, “You always need a minute, ‘cause you always cum early, twink.” 

“Shut up, you know it’s the piercing,” Frankie craned their neck to glare at Gerard, flipping him off. “Besides, it’s my turn to watch,” Frankie smirked impishly, waving the two off with plenty of assurance. 

Ray only paused to press a short and firm kiss to Frankie’s lips, petting back their hair with a caring twinkle in his cedar eye before fully releasing his grasp on them and turning to Gerard instead. “C’mere,” Ray growled, all but pouncing on Gerard’s back and pushing his face down into the filthy money with the heel of his hand pressed between Gerard’s shoulder blades, “Let’s see what else you got for me tonight, Houdini.” 

Gerard’s delighted noise was slightly muffled by the bills. He bit his lip and flexed his fingers before spreading his legs wide and kicking his feet into the air. Ray reupped with lube and then stood above him, his heavy member hanging erect as he took hold of Gerard’s ankles and hoisted him into a handstand. Ray’s hands slid down his shins to his knees as Gerard hooked his ankles together around Ray’s waist. He grinned at Frankie from between Ray’s legs and shifted to properly support himself in the prolonged, flexible position. 

Once Gerard was secure, Ray moved one hand to pump his own cock before guiding it to his entrance that had been prepped by both a plug and Frankie’s insatiable tongue. Again Ray took his time, prepared to stop upon unwanted friction, but Gerard managed to relax with a willing whine as Ray slid in the rest of the way. Their bodies fit together differently, but not in an unwelcome sense. They were only three inches apart as opposed to a whopping six and their statures were much closer in form. If anything, they moulded together more naturally, and the spark between them was just as heated. Ray gave Gerard a moment to adjust around him before sliding out halfway and pushing back in with a huff, hands automatically gripping Gerard’s hips to hold him steady. 

Gerard gasped and panted at the extent to which Ray was filling him, blood quickly rushing to his face and turning his cheeks a light plum colour. “Fuck, Ray, ‘s deep like this ,” Gerard’s expression twisted with adrenaline and pleasure. His mouth fell agape, a dire string of noises tumbling from him as Ray solidified the pace, fucking into Gerard assuredly. 

Meanwhile, Frankie did nothing to assist, sitting upright and cross legged since catching their breath. They gazed with a menacing smirk curled on their silky lips, observing curiously with glassy pools of leafy amber eyes full of wonder as they considered their next tactic. Then they shifted onto their hands and knees, crawling into the empty Frankie-sized pyramid between Gerard’s angled handstand and Ray’s legs. They moved with care not to throw the tallest off balance as his hips held a steady pace. 

Gerard made a noise of questioning at first, wondering if Frankie wanted him to suck them back to full hardness from this angle, but his unsuredness ceased when a new sensation overcame him.

Frankie had situated themself into a cross legged position again, their back to Gerard’s face in a way that made it so enticing and too-easy to just lean forward and suckle tiny hickies onto the base of their spine. They skittered their fingers up Ray’s stocky legs, nose nudging Gerard’s dick and swollen lips quick to follow. They sat at face level with Gerard’s bouncing cock and the movement made their workload light. Frankie practically just had to pull their own little magic trick, lax their throat and lean back against Gerard to allow for it to be fucked for the second time in one night. 

Gerard let out a strangled moan, sweat dripping from the tips of his hair, “Jesus H Christ, Bunny, you’re not gonna be able to fuckin talk during our- oh, shit Ray.” Gerard could absolutely not keep his thoughts on the upcoming set, nor any other physical consequences to come from this threesome. In the heat of moment they were all flexible, moving in ways even Gerard couldn’t when he wasn’t drunk on sex and scam. Instead, Gerard focused on the persistent nudging against his prostate and warm mouth with metal barbell jewelry gliding against the length of his cock as Frankie hollowed their cheeks around him. Gerard watched their lithe fingers curl around Ray’s calves, holding steady as Gerard’s entire length jammed down Frankie’s throat with each of Ray’s powerful thrusts. 

Ray bruised Gerard’s hips with the intensity of his grip, hands absentmindedly rubbing at his thigh and back if ever they fell into a good, secure pace to allow for it. His legs flexed underneath Frankie’s finger pads and he grinded his hips hard against Gerard’s ass, rubbing incessantly at Gerard’s prostate like how he had Frankie. Gerard’s reflexive clenching around Ray’s thick member was sending him too close to the edge, and the divine noises he was eliciting from Gerard by holding him suddenly still like this was making the back of his neck prickle. Ray parted his lips as he willed his dick to twitch inside of Gerard, aiming to drive him absolutely feral. He smirked as Gerard cursed him, plus Frankie’s enchanted tongue on top.

“Are you gonna cum for me, lovebug? Or should I pound you flat into the cash?” Ray’s voice was raspy as he pulled back a hand and spanked Gerard’s ass. A shower of Ray’s sweat shook free from the sudden movement, cascading across Gerard’s skin and making him cry out with no hope to form actual words in response. 

Frankie pulled off of Gerard’s dick with a pop, suddenly whining. “No, no waaaiiiit,” their voice was raw and feeble from their throat being overused, but it didn’t stop them protesting, “Lemme back in, ‘m good to go.” Gerard was red-faced and coming apart behind them, for Ray had still not let up on the depth. Everything about the act, the position, and the tension as either man evaded climax was so goddamn erotic Frankie was already hard again, one hand returned to tug at themself while they impatiently awaited their turn. 

Gerard squirmed, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched fistfuls of money and started smacking the mattress in agreement, causing cash to fly as he tapped out. 

Frankie crawled out from between them and licked their lips, sitting back on their haunches. They watched Ray gritting his teeth as he eased out, biting their lip in content at the obscene noises they both made when Ray finally released Gerard, easing him down from his handstand onto his stomach on the mattress. 

Gerard’s face was nearly purple with blood and his eyes were rolling and fluttering like mad from both pleasure and lightheadedness. His breath came out in unsteady panting as both Frankie and Ray admired the messy state Gerard was in. He peered through half-lidded eyes, breath slowing and regular colour slowly returning to his face as he contemplated Frankie and Ray surveying him. Outside of their private quarters, Gerard would never be caught so vulnerable or sloppy, but the irises raking over his body energized him back to working condition with speed. He opened his eyes fully once he was able to string two thoughts together, reaching out to Frankie and curling his fingers toward himself in a coaxing manner, “C’mere, Bun.” 

The three of them resituated into a different position entirely, one that required much less upper body strength: they were all laid on their sides, Ray behind Gerard who was behind Frankie. The lube was passed back between both men and Gerard spread Frankie first, making airy noises in sync as Gerard momentarily thumbed at their hole before pressing his length back in. They adjusted to the renewed sensation and Ray closed the space, plastering himself against Gerard’s back and re-entering next with a low groan. 

Gerard hissed, leaving imprints of his teeth on his own lower lip from the severity of his bite. Normally Gerard would cap the night with his contortionist trick, but he was experiencing something similar to what Frankie must feel when all of their pleasure points were being fully tended to. He drew a shaky breath to compose himself, hands sliding from Frankie’s ass to their hips as Ray mimicked his movements from behind. 

Gerard started moving, fucking into Frankie only to fuck himself in turn on Ray’s cock whenever he pulled back. He couldn’t help the breathy laughter and airy moans escaping him, climbing to a height of bliss he could barely even fathom existed. Gerard gained momentum and it wasn’t long before he was digging the twenty half-moons that were his nails into Frankie’s skin, drawing animalistic noises from all of them with the frantic movements and sounds of his pelvis working overtime between them. “Oh my fuck, I’m never gonna be the same, Bear-” Gerard was trying desperately to maintain composure but he broke off in a mousy squeak as Ray’s rings pressed into his throat. 

Ray saved him the trouble of having to come up with seductive words, squeezing the two pressure points on the sides of Gerard’s neck. He helped Gerard’s hips along, fucking forward slightly whenever Gerard came back on him to amplify the sensation. He pressed his lips to Gerard’s shoulder, licking and sucking along the curve as Gerard let out gasping whimpers. “That’s right, Bug, you’re ours tonight,” Ray’s lips cooed against Gerard’s shoulder, absurdly soft in comparison to his coarse noises of urging. They had come so close so many times, Ray was beyond ready to see and feel Gerard unspool like a broken slinky.

Frankie rocked back with purpose and craned their neck at the delicious sounds to look at Gerard’s contorted face, one hand jerking themself and the other moving to weave through Gerard’s hair. “Ah, Gee, keep fucking us like that, fuck yourself, you’re not so innocent as you want everyone to believe, you dirty motherfucker,” they cried out urgently when Gerard started fucking his hips harder, energized by their words and unrelenting as he neared his endings. 

Gerard was at the height of stimulation with Frankie’s hand pulling his hair in one direction and Ray tugging his throat another way, his groin fully occupied, and the cash beneath them spotted with sweat and sticking to their skin. It was a pool of nirvana in Gerard’s gut, slowly rising in a steam up his spine until the back of his neck tingled in warning. His hips were erratic and he was crying out nonsensically, ready to hand himself over, but Frankie’s sudden words halted his world in a second and he gasped raggedly for breath when even Ray’s hand released Gerard’s neck in surprise. 

“I-I wanna buy a duplex,” Frankie announced, their words coming out choked from the way Gerard had found their prostate again. Their parted lips twisted into an evil grin when they instantly felt all movement cease from the power laying beneath their words. The sentence was an inside joke of sorts, a way to innocuously flirt about the deed in public. Duplex wasn’t a word that was thrown around at random, and buying one was certainly not a part of their future plans, therefore they all knew what it meant if one of them uttered the rare notion. 

“Holy fuck, Frankie, you sure?” Ray’s voice came from against Gerard’s back. He lifted his head to meet their eyes from over Gerard’s shoulder, eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. The scar on his forehead scrunched up a little, the slit in his eyebrow seemingly meeting the white streak in his sweat-dampened hair. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah, finish me,” Frankie pleaded, caught between a mischievous smirk and a moan at the tortured whine Gerard was letting out. They knew what they were doing, how close they’d cut it. They’d let Gerard shimmy to the very crumbling edge before yanking him back at the last second and stealing away his orgasm. 

Still, Gerard obliged, playfully pushing against Frankie’s back in fake annoyance. They both sighed between chuckles as Frankie pulled off and then Gerard followed suit, sitting up and peeling twenty dollar bills from the side of his arm. “How do you want us?” Gerard breathed as Ray sat up too, hooking his chin over Gerard’s shoulder to peer at Frankie for direction. 

“I always thought acrobatics were fun,” Frankie suggested, beaming at the recognition that dawned on both of their faces despite the continued vagueness of their words. 

It didn’t take long for Frankie’s wish to be granted. Ray and Gerard both stood atop the further-abused yellow sheets, slicking their dicks a final time and causing springs to creak under their feet as they hoisted Frankie up between them. They were facing Gerard, his arms both hooked under Frankie’s knees while Ray’s strong hands held their ass spread. Frankie leaned heavily back against Ray’s scruffy chest, reaching down to guide Gerard’s dick since all four of their hands were busy holding fistfuls of Frankie’s inked canvas of skin.

Gerard hissed and angled his hips up with Frankie’s prompting, easily sliding back in. He stood still, eyes raking over Frankie’s flushed chest and then Ray’s anticipating face as Frankie moved to reach for the taller, guiding him next. They were so fucking stretched and ready at this point, it wasn’t very hard work for Ray to press in beside Gerard. They all collectively groaned, Gerard’s jaw falling slack at the feeling of Ray’s length throbbing directly against his own. “Shit,” he hissed, squeezing Frankie’s thighs as they expressly whined and sank down fully onto both of their cocks. 

Ray was bigger by at least three inches, but Gerard’s thickness could compete and Frankie wasn’t sure they could possibly take anything more than the two of them at once. They were tiny between the two men, Ray so fucking tall and masculine as he supported Frankie’s weight and while Gerard was more commanding in nature, there was a floral roundness to his form. Both of their bodies were fit, capable of ruining Frankie’s petite frame in an instant and equally able to keep them safe, protected, and fucked until their head was lost in orbit. Frankie breathed in tatters, pawing at Gerard’s chest as they fully adjusted before making a shaky, ruined noise of assent. 

The two standing men began to move, starting at unequal paces. The friction from their cocks coasting in opposite directions was so tight and hot that Ray had to purse his lips as he focused on balancing atop the bed with Frankie suspended and slack, crying out so desperately their back was vibrating against his chest. As they regained momentum, Ray’s compact lips fell slack. It felt as if pieces were clicking into place and once the two men managed to share one uniform rhythm, all bets were off. 

Together they fucked up into Frankie, the impact from both of their members driving into them making it almost criminally easy to bounce mid air, caught between their chests. Frankie was practically sobbing in bliss with one arm wrapped around each of their shoulders. They couldn’t stay still, losing their fucking head as they twisted between both of them to steal sloppy, openmouthed kisses, fingers clawing at their shoulders and ravaging their hair. All of their scents and flavours were well combined as the three interwove; there were no bounds left to be had. Frankie’s movements were sporadic and entirely instinctual as they bit Gerard’s lip and pushed their ass methodically down into Ray’s hands. They could already feel how ruined their hole was, but every movement was white hot ecstasy and they showed it by reflexively digging their heels into Gerard’s tailbone.  

Gerard heaved Frankie up, regaining leverage with his elbows still hooked underneath their knees. He sucked in a breath, still trying to wrangle a string of rocky words together, “I wish I could fuckin’ see you from below about now, stretched to the- the goddamned brink. Fuck, you’re so tight, isn’t our little fuckbunny tight, Bear?” Gerard’s molten eyes raised to Ray. He tugged his rosy lip between his tiny teeth before dipping down to kiss Frankie's collarbone all the way to their inviting piercings. Gerard suckled at their sweat-salted skin before indulging and swirling his tongue around Frankie’s nipple, flicking the tip over the hearts. The chemistry was growing fervid, igniting like dynamite between the three as the coil quickly began to burn toward the explosives.

Ray nipped at Frankie’s stretched earlobe in agreement. He spoke into Frankie’s ear, replying to Gerard in a gruff voice before addressing the smallest, “Yeah, fuck, and they take it like such a seasoned slut. Have you done this before, Bun?” The question was rhetorical and Ray didn’t give them a chance to answer, his voice growing ever more demanding, “Look at me. God damn, look at me ‘n’ open your fuckin’ mouth.” Both of his pupils were blown, the white one made up of dire and impassioned, icy flames.  

Frankie moaned at Ray’s bellowing voice and Gerard’s warm mouth moving between their nipples. They were nearly thawing into a puddle as they turned their head with their lips readily parted. The way his eyes bore into them made their stomach jump and asshole clench around both their erections, eliciting carnal groans from all parties. Frankie shuddered, digging their nails into the back of Ray’s neck as he spit into their mouth and smirked at the way their eyes rolled. They only half-swallowed as they twisted around to Gerard, webs of Ray’s saliva glistening in connecting lines between their lips as they parted again for their boyfriend. Frankie whined as Gerard detached from their chest and obliged, spitting across their cheek, chin, and into their mouth. 

Frankie was laughing and crying out on what felt like the brink of hysteria as they swallowed back the combination of saliva. That in itself was already hot enough to send a pulsing prickle of warning to the base of their spine, but Ray’s thick fingers hooking in the corner of their mouth and tugging at the inside of their cheek solidified the start of the spiral. Together the men were blitzing their prostate, utterly railing Frankie as their thighs began to burn from their added willful bouncing. “F-Fuhk, ‘m gonna-” Frankie’s warning voice was garbled from their cheek being pulled taut by Ray. They instantly gave up on words, opting to briefly suck on his fingers instead. Frankie slid their tongue piercing between the three digits all along his rings, Ray’s pinky faintly tickling underneath their chin and his thumb outlining the arch of their cheekbone. His other hand still held Frankie’s ass and Gerard kept them properly secure while the largest continued to carry Frankie’s collapsing weight. Gerard dared to lift a hand and brutally spank the curve of Frankie’s ass on a push downward, instantly reddening their skin. 

It was as if a switch flipped inside of Frankie - they simply couldn’t go any longer. Ray released Frankie’s face as their already leaking dick spurted around the Prince Albert piercing, twitching wildly while their right hand flew from Gerard’s shoulders to finally allow their length some attention. They wriggled and howled, masturbating themself through the most intense climax they had ever experienced. They were fully sunken on both partners’ erections, clenching repeatedly around them as they ground their hips down in time with the waves of their orgasm. “Oh my god, oh my god, yes, yea, yes,” Frankie floundered, uncaring of how loud they were or how long it had been going on for, it was like an atom had split and restarted their world in a mushroom cloud of serenity. 

Gerard growled, unhinged with greed as he watched Frankie make a mess of their belly before feeling their warmth inevitably smeared against his own skin. He looked up at Ray, at his wits end too, and he could tell Ray was sharing the mentality by the piercing wooden arrow that his seeing eye had become. The sensation was new and peculiar, as if they were on the same wavelength, sharing nerve endings. Frankie’s pulsing asshole squeezing their erections together made all of the slickness and friction symmetrical, pulling them both apart at once. 

Ray let out a deep groan, both hands returned to Frankie’s ass and digging into them the same as Gerard. The dynamite ignited, blowing them both apart. Ray’s eyes fluttered and he leaned forward in order to avoid stumbling back in his entirely overwhelming orgasm, shared with the black haired escape artist standing parallel to him.  They both pulsed to the sounds of release and hips jerked out of time as hot cum filled the tight space left between their cocks, making Frankie go totally limp. 

Upon full release and twice for the twink, the three of them were spent. Frankie wrapped their arms back around both of their shoulders, waiting for one final boost as Ray carefully helped them lift off of the load. They shuddered at the release, urging the two to hurry up with frantic slapping at their chests to be set down. “I have a surprise. ‘S part of… of my fantasy ‘n all,” Frankie offered vague context. 

Gerard furrowed his eyebrows in confused laughter and unhooked his arms from Frankie’s legs, setting them down with Ray so that they were standing on top of the cash-covered bed between the two taller bodies. Gerard’s eyebrow went up in further questioning when Frankie’s inked hands met either of their shoulders and pushed them down with a demanding shove, but Gerard obliged anyway and sat cross legged, looking up with expectancy. His jaw promptly dropped, hand slapping over top of Ray’s that was suddenly clenching around his thigh in an identical thought process. 

What a fucking sight to behold. Frankie in all their glory, standing in front of them on the mattress so that they towered tall for once. Except their back was facing the two, head lolling heavily as they relished in the moment of wholly exposing their inky, sweaty, bruised, scratched and spanked, beyond defaced skin. They bent forward slightly, hands sliding to their pink asscheeks and spreading them so that both men could clearly see the number they had done. Frankie didn’t need to look back, they could feel the intensity of the eyes lapping at their used hole that was occasionally clenching around air as it was practically gaping and involuntarily puckering for more. 

What was more than that, something that made the breath really stick in their throats was the double load of cum dripping from Frankie, some leaking down their thigh while other heavy droplets fell directly onto the pile of already dirty cash beneath their feet. Frankie whined in satisfaction at the dream come true. They let the show go on for a long moment before swiping at their thigh and sucking their fingers into their mouth to swallow down the warm milky substance coating their digits. Frankie shuddered in elation as they turned around to the sight of Gerard and Ray slowly tugging themselves through the ends of their orgasm, obviously appreciative of Frankie’s display from the way their erections weren’t immediately fading. 

Frankie smirked crookedly around their fingers before pulling them out with a pop and lick of their lips. They linked their hands behind their back, shifting on the spot in satisfaction before stepping forward and dropping to their knees. “Thank you...” they started in a raw voice, still in disbelief that not one, but two souls could understand and cater to their needs so specifically. Their face shifted into something serious as they addressed the two of them, “I… I love you… both, I love you both so fucking much it hurts sometimes. And I hope you never move out, Bear.” It was Frankie’s millionth time telling Gerard they loved him in such a genuine way, but a first for Ray. Something had shifted… blossomed. Frankie clenched their fists hard, suddenly a bit worried about possible negative reactions, but they quickly relaxed when both partners leaned forward to embrace them, swallowing them in each other’s arms and stamping dozens of little kisses to the top of their head and sides of their face.

“We love you too, Frankie,” Ray’s face was tender but confident; it somehow felt so easy to say. He lifted his head slightly to peer over at Gerard for approval. 

“That’s right, more than you’ll ever know, Bunny,” Gerard agreed, but his gaze stayed trained on Ray, “And you, Bear, I love you too.” 

Ray bit his lip, his heart at the point of bursting from fondness and warmth. He impulsively leaned forward, stealing short but firm kisses from both. “You’ve both become my whole world, I can’t picture my life without you anymore… Fuck, I love you,” he laughed a little, feeling out the round words in his mouth like smooth marbles.

A new, inseparable bond had formed between the trio. They slumped into a heap, caressing and holding each other until they collectively found enough energy to redress. The digital radio clock on the bedside read 5:30am, causing them to exchange sheepish looks and snickers when they eventually made their way out the door.

They had debated while regaining their breath but decided it wasn’t worth it to pick up even the most unscathed cash that had floated to the floor early on. Most of it was soiled by a multitude of fluids, they figured the cleaning staff deserved an actual tip . With that, they’d settled on leaving the crime scene in all its glory, the threesome reigning inconsiderate and self-interested despite the tenderness that existed in private. 

*

The sun was red and already rising behind them, still low in the Nevadan sky and making their shadows exaggerated and uncatchable as they began their short walk home. Morning birds chirped in a suspiciously taunting fashion, following along behind the walk of shame. They’d checked out of the motel, obviously disheveled despite vague attempts to flatten their hair. They had all entirely sobered up but Andy wouldn’t be in for a few hours, so they were cursed to walk the rest of the night off whether they wanted to collect their keys or not. 

“Hey, Frankie?” Ray started, hands shoved into the pockets of his bondage pants as he broke the comfortable silence. 

“What’s that?” Frankie looked up, puffing at a cigarette. 

“You asked about my hair once, I shut you down. Do you remember that or were you too plastered?” 

“No, I remember. Why?” Frankie and Gerard both watched Ray curiously. It was as though the lock guarding Ray’s heart had been picked in a collaboration of the pair’s lithe hands, and after all these years they had finally coaxed it open. 

“Usually people don’t ask at all. When they do, I shut everyone down like that. I don’t know why. No, well, I do. I meant, I don’t remember when exactly I started doing it. I just… I don’t like talking about it. They’re not related. Well, not really. My scar and hair, I mean,” Ray started to explain in an apologetic tone, fumbling over his words in a distraught way his friends had never seen before. Ray’s cheeks burned a deep rose colour as his seeing eye focused on his distorted shadow. He was clumsily stepping into his moment of truth, putting in an obvious effort to explain himself after so much time had passed without any offerings of background. 

Frankie cooed in support, stepping closer to intertwine their fingers with Ray’s and Gerard did the same on his blind side. “It’s okay, Big Bear. Take your time,” they smiled sweetly, irises soft like syrup smeared across summer-green maple leaves.

Ray drew a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and sucking in his lips a moment before finally relaying the short version, “I got the scar itself when I was young. Y’know, alcoholic dad with a God complex and a beer bottle to the face.” Ray winced a little at the received gasps of horror, glad for the protection of his eyepatch, for he didn’t know if he could make himself so vulnerable without the covering just yet. He tried not to take the concerned noises the wrong way when both partners were protectively squeezing his hands. “Anyway, whenever I could consistently get my hands on some bleach, I started doing the streak. I kinda kept at it, focused on the roots too often I guess, and eventually it just lost pigment. I started letting people believe the two are related for no real reason I suppose,” Ray smirked amusedly. 

Frankie shrieked with laughter, flicking away their cigarette butt and jumping on Ray’s back for him to carry them the last two dozen steps home. “Of course you would.”

“Hm, I like the mystery behind it, well thought out-” Gerard began analyzing, returning to his matter-of-fact demeanour, but he was cut off by Frankie gently smacking the back of his head from a height. 

“Shut up, Moth.” 

The obnoxious triad of laughter that danced through the air like a musical chord always seemed to follow the obscure set no matter where their stomping boots carried them.