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Frank had collected a second shadow at some point between coming offstage and exiting the venue doors to the sidewalk outside. It was late November, and the street was dotted with other people walking from the small club to the bar nearby that the crew had elected as a suitable venue for the post-show afterparty. They talked lowly amongst themselves, old friends of Frank’s, some acquaintances, all with their jackets turned up against the frigid New Jersey winter. He kept his own head low and lingered towards the back of the group, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacket, thumbing the edges of the smooth plastic guitar pics that always lingered there.
Normally Frank would skip these kinds of things, but it was a hometown show and the tiny backstage green room had been filled with friends that he was long overdue for catching up with. He was thankful for the walk to allow him some time to calm himself down before the celebration. His nerves were still on edge from the set. His breath felt quick and tight in his chest, like someone was holding a fist there and pressing down. He could feel his chapped lips twitch from manic smile to concentrated frown and back again.
He pulls a cigarette out from the semi-crushed pack in the pocket of his jeans and lights it with a hand that’s surprisingly steady. Despite the overly-quick pounding in his chest he feels zeroed in, like his vision has drawn into a singular point and the white noise around him of his friends laughing and joking has faded away completely. Instead he hears the scrape of his sneakers against the pavement, the scratch of his ragged nails against the plastic of his lighter, his own quiet breathing.
All of this is probably why he doesn’t notice Gerard following behind him until he slides up against Frank and wraps a long hand around Frank’s bicep, leaning his weight into the other man’s side.
Frank slides his gaze sideways and sees just the top of Gerard’s head, bright red hair falling in front of his eyes as he bends his knees slightly so he can rub his forehead against Frank’s neck. His skin feels burning hot against the cold flush of Frank’s own, the sweat there dried down with the wind into icy pricks.
Frank doesn’t say anything, just slows his pace a little and blows out a puff of smoke, listening to the soft inhale from Gerard as he tries to breathe in the secondhand smoke.
It can be hard to find his voice when he’s like this, after finishing the shows. It’s like he’s been emptied out, gutted and hollow after leaving everything he had in himself to give back on stage. It’s like something comes loose inside him and doesn’t click back into place for hours after. His words come out too brash, aggressive, his laugh too loud and sharp like shards of glass.
It’s better to be silent.
Gerard however is humming something soft against his jaw, almost walking backwards in his apparent effort to press as much of himself against Frank as he can while they move.
Frank rolls his shoulder, effectively shoving Gerard off as they step under the dimly lit awning over the bar’s entrance. Gerard stumbles a little, and his eyebrows knit together as Frank finally takes a proper look at him.
Gerard isn’t drunk, he wouldn’t do that. His recent return to old habits is a development only Frank and a few choice others know about, but there’s something vacant in his eyes, something hazy that isn’t normally there.
Probably coke then. Not a lot from what Frank can tell, at least not as much as he used to do on show nights. Just enough to soften his edges and have him looking at Frank like the dots can’t quite connect in his head for him as to why Frank would push him away.
Frank isn’t trying to be mean, he doesn’t ever want to be mean to Gerard unless he asks for it, and so far the other man hasn’t. But despite the cold Frank’s skin feels like it’s on fire and he can’t stand Gerard pressing himself against him and needing. Always asking for something, always pushing for more. Right now, Frank has nothing to give.
“The show tonight was so good, Frankie. I jus’ want-'' Gerard starts, until he catches Frank’s eye and stops short. Frank watches the bob of the other man’s throat as he swallows thickly and feels himself smirk a little in satisfaction. Frank wouldn’t ever admit it out loud but sometimes it was nice to play with Gerard like this. To stick fingers under all that swagger and confidence and pull. It was more satisfying that sometimes it didn’t even take words. Just a heavy look from Frank and Gerard would shrink back, rethink what he was going to say. Wring his hands together and find himself questioning himself the way Frank feels himself doing all the time.
It wasn’t any secret how Gerard felt about the Leathermouth shows anyway. It had become extremely prevalent ever since the first time Gerard watched from backstage as Frank curled into himself on stage,sweating and aching and screaming so hard his throat burned, cutting off his own air with the mic cord.
That first time Gerard hadn’t even been able to wait for them to get back to the hotel after the show. Instead he’d pushed Frank into some tiny club bathroom with a flickering dull light and dropped to his knees on the beer soaked floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
Before Gerard can try to say anything else Frank shoves past him and into the bar. The place is small and very full, the air hot and damp from the press of bodies, almost all of them familiar faces.
Frank sidles up to the bar and loses sight of Gerard for a while. He orders a drink and the cool beer sliding down his throat brings him back to himself slightly. His friends are laughing around him, congratulating him and clapping him heavily on the back. He feels the tension begin to ease from his shoulders.
He’s talking to Evan when he sees Gerard again. The redhead is slipping out of the bathroom and he’s bouncing slightly on his feet. He’s grinning wide and Frank can catch the glint of his tiny pearly teeth from where he’s standing. Gerard walks towards Worm, apparently resuming whatever conversation they’d been having, but he’s wavering from side to side as he talks and when he laughs Frank can hear it over the music playing loud and fast over the bar speakers.
Frank decides it’s time to step in, so he slams the rest of his beer before working his way through the crowd until he can press himself against Gerard’s back, settling one wide hand against the other man’s hip and whispering in his ear.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, sweetheart.” He says quietly, just so Gerard can hear, and he smiles a little when he feels Gerard’s body stiffen underneath his fingers.
Gerard turns to face him, the pupils of his wide hazel eyes are blown and almost entirely black. He looks confused. “It’s just Worm, I didn’t do anything weird.”
“You think he can’t tell?” Frank asks, raising a dark eyebrow and watching as Gerard’s shoulders fall once he knows he’s been caught.
Frank is intentionally toying with Gerard, but that’s not the only reason he’s doing it. They don’t need people to know that Gerard’s been doing this again, and Frank trusts the people around them but something could always be let slip by accident. Frank isn’t ready to leave the party yet, but he can control the situation.
“You know, coke whores aren’t supposed to get chatty.” Frank says, keeping his tone even, almost conversational, like he’s discussing the weather. “They’re supposed to look pretty and get quietly fucked up in a corner until someone’s ready to take em’ home.”
Gerard makes a sharp, indignant sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. His thin lips press into a stubborn line and he tilts his chin up, squaring his shoulders back and giving Frank the same pissy little look he always does when he’s about to mouth off. It’s a look Frank is all too familiar with. “I’m not a fucking coke wh-“ he starts until Frank cuts him off again.
“Sure look like one.” He says, pointedly dragging his eyes from Gerard’s blown pupils to his bitten and chapped lips to his pale shaking hands.
He’s still pretty like this. Gerard will always be pretty, but this is pretty in a different way than usual. He looks naive, vacant and desperate and confused. The look tugs at something dark and possessive in Frank’s chest.
Frank can see a flash of embarrassment pass over Gerard’s features before it gets replaced again by haughty indifference. “Fuck off, Frank.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” Frank smirks, and Gerard pushes himself further into Frank’s space like he’s about to respond except that Frank speaks first.
“I’m gonna go smoke, and you’re gonna stick with me and be a good girl, alright?”
He tilts Gerard’s chin up while he speaks so he can watch how the other man’s defiant face falls and is replaced with an expression of pure want. He knows what using that little card does to Gee, and he’s not above abusing it.
Gerard nods, and Frank presses his hand against Gerard’s lower back as he starts to guide them back towards the door. “And you’re not gonna talk to anyone else unless I tell you you can, alright?”
Frank knows he’s playing with fire here. They’re surrounded by friends, people who’ll want to talk to Gee all night, but Gerard doesn’t protest. He nods, tucking his chin down and letting Frank guide him back out to the sidewalk.
They step outside and the cold November air slides over Frank’s skin with a welcoming relief. He feels like he’s able to breathe again for the first time in hours. They walk towards the corner of the building and Gerard settles with his back against the brick wall, tilting his head back to rest while his eyes slip closed and his mouth hangs open slightly. His hand is flapping against his side, like he doesn’t know what to do with it so Frank takes pity on him and shakes a cigarette out of his own pack before pressing it between Gee’s slack lips.
Gerard’s eyes open to slits and the flame from Frank’s plastic lighter reflects in the thin rings of hazel. He breathes in, a rattling loud thing, and Frank watches as the smoke disappears into his lungs.
It doesn’t take long before the bar door swings open again and shuffling steps approach them on the sidewalk. It’s Geoff, and his lopsided smile indicates that he’s a few sheets to the wind himself. He wraps a skinny arm around Gerard’s shoulders while sliding his own cigarette packet from his jacket pocket with the other hand. “I thought I saw you guys sneak out here.” He says, talking out of the corner of his mouth as he inhales. “Not into the party?” He asks, turning to Gerard and raising an eyebrow.
Gerard flashes Frank a panicked look. Frank hasn’t given him permission to speak, and Frank is almost surprised that Gerard is still going with it. He could just as easily tell Frank to fuck off and lock him out of their hotel room later until he knew the other man had cooled down, He’d done it before,
“Too old.” Frank mumbles in response, cutting Gerard some slack.
“If you’re too old that means I’m fuckin’ ancient, dude.” Geoff laughs, shaking his head. “And if I’m ancient that means Gee here isn’t long for the crypt.”
Gerard makes an odd huffing sound and ashes his cigarette against the brick wall. In his head, Frank can hear his nasally voice coming up with some half assed comeback. “I might be old but I’ll always be fuckin’ pretty, Geoff.” He’d say, if Frank let him.
Frank doesn’t, though. So Instead, Gerard extracts himself from under Geoff’s arm and winds himself back around Frank. Frank slips a hand under the layers of his jacket and tee shirt and feels the pale skin of his back, cold to the touch. He pulls him closer and ignores the pleading look Gerard is giving him.
“One of those moods, huh?” Geoff says. His gaze meets Frank teasingly. It’s no secret that Geoff and Gerard used to mess around, before Frank’s time. He knew better than anyone what Gerard could be like.
“Yeah.” Frank replies with a smirk. He blows some smoke into Gerard’s face where it’s tucked against his neck and laughs a little as he watches how his cute pixie nose crinkles, how tiny teardrops spring into his eyes on reflex. “You know how it is.”
“I do.” Geoff nods, quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “He looks pretty like that.” He says, and Frank watches as the other man’s eyes slide slowly down Gerard’s body appraisingly.
Frank can feel Gerard tense up against him, his long fingers tightening minutely around Frank’s arm. They had discussed this before, the three of them. They hadn’t done anything together yet, but the idea had been put out there, and Geoff is inching closer to the two of them like he wants something.
Frank shakes his head though. “Not tonight.” He says, and he feels Gerard relax slightly, a quiet, whiny sound escaping his lips.
He doesn’t feel like sharing tonight, and Geoff nods and smiles at Frank like he understands. “All yours then.” He says before stubbing his cigarette out against the sidewalk and walking back inside.
Frank rolls his shoulders, feels the tight muscles around his neck pulling and shifting. When he looks at Gerard the other man’s pupils are still blown, but he’s focused in, staring at Frank like he wants to jump him right there on the sidewalk.
Frank takes his thumb and pointer finger and squeezes Gerard’s jaw, tilting his head left and right like he’s examining a product on a shelf. He brings his other hand up and forces Gerard’s mouth open before squeezing his pink tongue between two fingers. It should look stupid, but with Gerard staring at him like that, mouth hot and wet against Frank’s touch, it feels anything but.
“All mine, huh?” Frank says quietly. “Huh?” He repeats after a moment when Gerard just keeps staring at him.
Gerard looks unsure, and it’s not like he could speak anyway with Frank holding his tongue like he is. “C’mon honey,” Franks starts, leaning close and speaking against Gerard’s ear. “I’m tellin’ ya you can talk. Don’t you wanna tell me who’s pretty girl you are?”
Gerard looks like he might cry for a second, and his cheeks are tinged pink, more so than they were already from just the cold. Spit is already gathering at the corners of his mouth, having difficulty swallowing with his tongue held in place. “M’ yours, ‘ankie.” He says as clearly as he can, which isn’t very clear it all, but it’s enough.
Frank let’s him go and Gerard stumbles back a little until Frank wraps his hands around his forearms, pressing a kiss against his cold forehead before moving away. “Yeah you are.” He says, and Gerard nods, quiet again.
“I need to get out of this fuckin’ place.” Frank mumbles as he pushes them back towards the door to the bar. “Stay with me while I say goodbyes and then we’ll get out of here, alright?”
Gerard nods, and Frank can tell he’s gone under. He’s described what it’s like to Frank a few times. Like his head is being held under water, or layers and layers of heavy blankets. Warm and quiet and completely enveloping.
Maybe it’s fucked up to admit that he thinks he likes Gerard best like this. Far away from the grandstanding and the confidence and aggression, the teasing little smirk and the pouted lips that he’ll share with just about anyone who gives him attention.
Sometimes Gerard’s presence is so large, so all consuming that it almost feels untouchable, or like Frank is shrunk beneath the burning heat of it. But when Gerard is like this, soft and small and looking at Frank like he has all the answers for once…
It makes Frank feel like he has some of that same largeness within himself.
Frank says their goodbyes for both of them without any further incident. Gerard keeps looking longingly towards Mikey, who’s leaning against the bar talking to Alicia, but Frank shakes his head. Mikey doesn’t need to see his brother like this. Frank will text him later and tell him that Gerard hadn’t been feeling well or something.
Frank piles them both into a cab and as soon as the door is shut Gerard is on him, his fingers tugging at the waistband of Frank’s jeans, at the thick denim of his jacket, anything he can get a hold of until Frank slaps his hands away, not hard enough for the driver to notice, but hard enough for Gerard to get the message and ball his hands up on his own lap, his short fingernails digging into the skin of his palms.
Frank slips his own hand around the nape of Gerard’s neck while they drive, massaging the tiny dip in the skin there. He can feel the goosebumps that spring to Gerard’s skin at the touch, hear the tiny hitch in his breathing.
When they get to the hotel Frank tosses a few bills to the driver and tugs Gerard out of the car. The hotel isn’t anything special, but it has a bed and a locked door so it’s good enough for Frank. Normally he’d go back to his own house after a Jersey show, but he’s glad he’d had the forethought to book a hotel instead tonight. It’s better to keep these kinds of moods away from home. It makes it easier to keep the lines from blurring too far.
They make it into the elevator in silence, but once inside Frank presses Gerard against the wall with a hand against Gerard’s chest before taking a step back and looking the other man up and down.
“You couldn’t take one night when the attention wasn’t on you, huh?” He says, keeping his voice low. Control is important on nights like this. Nights when he knows his nerves are still on edge and the adrenaline is still sitting high in his chest. They play rough, they always have, but they also fight like motherfuckers and Frank isn’t trying to get into that tonight, but he likes poking at the limits, seeing how far he can dig his fingers into an open wound before it bleeds.
Gerard frowns, his eyebrows knitting together while he drops his gaze to the beige elevator carpet. He looks hurt, or at least thoughtful. The door slides open and Frank doesn’t wait for a response before he walks out, assuming Gerard will follow.
He does, of course he does. Gerard has been and always will be a glutton for punishment. It’s something that will never change, but it’s better that Frank is the one delivering it now, rather than whatever self-imposed bullshit Gerard had been doing before him. The relapse is a reminder of that before time that Frank doesn’t like to think about. When they’d been young and he’d been forced to watch Gerard self-destruct with abandon every night, unable to do anything about it.
And now Gerard’s doing it again, flaunting it in front of Frank like a giant neon sign screaming what you give me isn’t good enough .
“I was just trying to have fun, Frank.” Gerard says quietly as they step into the hotel room and Frank turns to lock the door behind him. He doesn’t face Gerard yet, just checks his breathing, flexes his fingers open until he hears them pop.
When he does turn, Gerard is watching him, his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth, the way he always does when he’s thinking. He’s still shaking slightly from the blow, and Frank decides to focus on that.
He strides forward quickly, digging his hand into the inside pocket of Gerard’s jacket before the other man can stop him. The tiny plastic dime bag is easy to find and Gerard whines when Frank pulls it out, holding it between two fingers and examining it.
The white powder shifts in the bag in Gerard’s eyes flick hungrily between it and then back to Frank, like he can’t decide which one he wants more. The fact that he even thinks it’s a decision is infuriating.
“You’ve never done this to have fun, Gerard.” Frank says. He thinks for a moment before dipping his pinky behind his lips, getting it wet with spit before opening the bag and coating it in powder. He keeps his eyes fixed on Gerard as he moves the finger back to his mouth, humming a little as he coats his gums with the blow. The taste is chemical and acrid and his mouth numbs almost immediately. At least Gerard got good shit this time. Something that’s changed from before.
“You were on stage and I just-“ Gerard stops and then thinks for a moment, shaking his head before he speaks again. “I don’t know what to do when you’re up there, like that. All that energy and I’m just…”
“Not a part of it.” Frank finishes, and Gerard shrugs.
“So the second I have my back turned, the second I don’t have to have you on stage as well to literally have to keep an eye on you , you go back to this? Is that it?” Frank says, and he can see the moment Gerard realizes he fucked up. His lip twitches and his shoulders drop. He knows there’s no excuse for this.
“Are you gonna go back to how it was before then? Maybe you should’ve found some guy at the bar to fuck you nice and hard in the bathroom if you want it like that. Maybe I should call Bert if you wanna do this whole song and dance again, sweetheart.”
Gerard flinches at the name and gives Frank a dark look. Bert wasn’t a great part of their history, and it’s something they’ve fought about more times than Frank can count.
“He can come and get you nice and coked out, get you fucking wasted until he feels like fucking you against the wall in some shitty bathroom, while you’re fading in and out and won’t even remember it. And he’ll leave you there to clean yourself up, or pass out, or choke on your own fucking vomit and die for all he cares. Just like you like it, right?”
Frank slides the plastic bag into his pocket and moves towards Gerard as he speaks, crowding the man against the wall. Gerard’s eyes are narrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Frank’s almost gone too far, he knows that. He’s being cruel, he knows that.
He doesn’t care.
“And then you expect me to come and clean you up, right?” Frank asks, though it’s not really a question. He raises an eyebrow at Gerard as he speaks again. “Want me to fix it for you and tell you I love you and tell you it’s not your fault.”
He laughs a little, and it’s a bitter, cold thing.
“It is your fault though, isn’t it?” He asks, and Gerard just watches him, eyes wide like he doesn’t know what to say. His throat moves like he’s trying to speak up, but no words come out.
“It’s your fault, because you’re an attention whore, and you’re easy, Gerard.” Frank finishes speaking and leans back slightly, just watching as Gerard takes it in.
Frank makes a split second decision and slaps Gerard hard across the face. The crack resounds through the quiet of the hotel room, sharp and piercing as Gerard’s head snaps to the side and a thin gasp escapes his lips.
“You’re fucking stupid as well. You’re a dumb little bitch who doesn’t know what to do with yourself unless it’s hurting, right?” Frank keeps talking as he slides his thumb over the pale skin of Gerard cheek, now tinged with pink. “A pain slut.” He says with certainty.
“And you’d let anyone do it as long as it hurts. Bert or Geoff or anyone. I’m just the flavor of the month, right?” He asks, and Gerard already shaking his head no before Frank has even finished speaking.
“No- No Frank, you’re not- I need you.” He says, and his voice sounds strangled.
“You need too much, Gerard.” Frank says, and that hurts, he can tell. Gerard’s not an easy crier, that’s always been Frank. But Frank can see the way Gerard’s throat bobs, swallowing thickly to push back tears.
“I’m not gonna fix you this time.” He says, and as he speaks he winds a hand around the back of Gerard’s head, fingers tangling roughly into his hair so he can hold him firmly in place, forcing him to look back at him. “You’re the one who always fucks yourself up, so why should I even try to stop it? It’s not worth it.”
He tugs firmly at Gerard’s hair, staring at him as he forced his neck back, long and pale and taut. “You’re not worth it.” He says.
He releases his hand from Gerard’s hair and slaps him again, hard and quick and sharp enough that his shoulders snap back against the hotel wall from the force.Gerard moves to curl into himself before Frank grabs his jaw hard and forces him to stop. “Say it” he spits, and Gerard whines then, reedy and loud,his eyes pleading for Frank not to make him do it.
“Say it!” He shouts this time, silently praying that it’s late enough at night that their neighbors on this floor are sleeping.
“I’m not worth it.” Gerard finally gasps. His expression crumples and it satisfies something in Frank to see it, to hear it.
“I’m not worth it.” Gerard says again, his voice is shaking. “I’m not- I-“
Frank silences him with another slap, and then another. On the third Gerard chokes and Frank can see tiny pinpricks of tears spring to his eyes. “You’re good for one thing though, aren’t you?” He says, and Gerard nods, gasping.
“Better get to it then.” Frank says, and that’s all it takes for Gerard to drop to his knees. He collapses inelegantly, with a heavy exhale like the air got punched from his lungs. His pale fingers are shaking as they reach for the button of Frank's jeans, pushing them down just enough to feel the bulge of Frank’s hard cock.
Frank grabs the back of Gerard’s head and pushes him in, crushing his face against the damp fabric of Frank’s boxers. He can feel Gerard’s hot breath against him and the sensation makes him bite his lip hard before speaking. “This is where you belong, Gerard. Right here.” He punctuates the statement by thrusting his hips against Gerard’s mouth and he hears a muffled moan from below him.
Gerard’s fingers are skimming against Frank’s thighs, clawing desperately. He’ll have thin red marks from the other man’s nails come tomorrow. He lets Gerard go just long enough to push his own boxers down and as soon as they are Gerard is on him.
His tongue slides up the thick vein of Frank’s cock and then is replaced by his spit-slick lips trailing up the sides, kissing and licking and mouthing at the skin like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Frank’s shoulders drop and he lets his head fall back for a moment, eyes closed. “There you go.” He says. “Do what you’re good at, honey.”
Gerard seems to intend to do exactly that. His hand wraps around the base of Frank’s cock while his lips circle the head, moaning as the heavy weight settles against his tongue. Frank lets him for a moment, before looking down and wrapping a hand into Gerard’s hair again. “No.” He breathes, and the look Gerard is giving him could kill. “Hands behind your back.”
Gerard complies, wrapping his shaking fingers around his own wrist tightly, like he’s afraid he won’t be able to control himself.
“I’m gonna fuck your pretty mouth.” Frank says, matter-of-fact, using his other hand to grip Gerard’s jaw hard, digging his thumb between the hinge of his teeth and forcing his mouth open. “Maybe if you can’t talk tomorrow you won’t be able to get yourself into trouble, huh?”
Gerard makes a garbled noise that sounds like please but it’s cut off by Frank shoving himself into Gerard’s mouth. He doesn’t wait for Gerard to adjust like he normally would, for the soft give of the other man’s throat accepting him. He just pushes, and he can feel Gerard’s throat convulsing around him.
His thrust are shallow and quick, chasing the wet gagging noises coming from Gerard’s throat. When he looks down, spit is leaking around the corners of Gerard’s stretched mouth, soaking his chin down to the collar of his shirt. His eyes are half-lidded, hazy in the way they always get when they do this.
“Look at me.” Frank says, and his own voice sounds strained. He only has so much self control.
Gerard does, the tears are falling freely now and Frank drags his thumb down, smearing the streaks across pale skin before he moves his hand away and spits directly down at Gerard’s face.
Gerard flinches reflexively so Frank pulls his hair hard again, keeping him steady while he pushes his mouth further onto his cock before he spits again, hitting the corner of Gerard’s eye and watching as it slips down, mixing with the tears and Gerard’s own saliva.
He reaches down and rubs it into Gerard’s skin, across his fluttering eyelids and flushed pink cheeks. “Geoff was right.” He says, and Gerard whines loudly around him. “You do look pretty like this.”
He lets Gerard up for a second, his gasps for air are wet and heaving, Gerard looks absolutely wrecked already and they’ve barely started. “Take your shirt off.” He says, and Gerard complies with unsteady hands, making a frustrated noise as the fabric gets tangled around him before slipping over his head.
He wraps his own hand around his cock as Gerard sits back on his heels, his eyes wide and hungry while he watches tattooed fingers stroke up and down slowly. “I should just make you watch.” Frank says. “Keep you here, looking pretty with my cum all over your face.”
Gerard nods, though he’d probably agree to anything Frank said when he’s like this. “Whatever you want, Frankie.” He says and God, his voice is ruined. They’re lucky Gerard isn’t the one singing these days.
“Yeah,” Frank says lowly before grabbing Gerard’s hair and pulling him back into his cock. “Whatever I want.”
Gerard allows Frank his control. Opening his mouth wider to accept whatever Frank gives him despite the way Frank knows his jaw must be aching. The heat of his mouth is almost hypnotic and he loses himself to it until he catches Gerard’s hand sneaking forward to press against himself where he’s straining against his jeans.
The toe of Frank’s shoe comes down against Gerard’s fingers immediately, grinding hard until he hears a choked whine from Gerard. “Fucking quit it.” He growls. “This isn’t about you, remember?”
He steps back and Gerard’s mouth slides off him with a loud pop, the sound soon replaced by Gerard’s heaving breaths. He’s fallen forward, his forearms holding him up against the carpet while he sucks in air, his back shaking and his skin flushed red down to his chest.
Frank crouches down, watching Gerard for a moment before tilting the other man’s chin up between his fingers. “You still with me?” He asks as Gerard’s eyes flick between Frank’s hands, his cock, back to his face.
“Hey.” Frank repeats, snapping his fingers in front of Gerard, “fucking focus. Are you still with me?”
“I- yeah, yes. M’ here.” Gerard says shakily. His voice is breathy and cracked. He looks so fucking young like this it makes Frank’s heart ache.
“Good.” Frank says, and he takes a moment to card his fingers through the sweaty tangles of Gerard's hair, gentle this time. “Breathe for a minute, baby.” He says.
Gerard’s shoulders relax, his face smoothing of the concentrated wrinkles between his eyebrows as he syncs his breathing to Frank’s.
“Frankie, I need-“ He starts until Frank hushes him.
“I know what you need, okay?” He says and Gerard nods.
“I want you to take your pants off now. Take everything off. And then I want you on your knees, okay? Ass up.” He says, his voice hardening again once he lets go of Gerard’s chin, moves back to give him space while Gerard scrambles to rid himself of his jeans and boxers.
Once they’re off, Gerard sinks down to his knees, looking over his shoulder for a moment before he lets his arms slide forward to bring his front down against the carpet. His spine creates an elegant line down to the soft curve of his pale ass, and this is a sight Frank will never get tired of.
He stands and presses his shoe down to the small dip at the end of Gerard’s back, the same place where he’s spent countless nights kissing and licking the skin there. He presses down until Gerard’s back caves even further, raising his ass up more.
“You just need some rough handling, right?” He says, watching as Gerard nods as much as he can with his chin pressed against his folded hands.
“I- I just get in my head.” He says, his voice small and quiet. “Like- wound up I guess.”
Frank nods, even though he knows Gerard can’t really see him, “I know he you do.” He says, because he does know. Gerard is like a wind up doll that comes apart when the key gets turned too far. Endless cycles of sensational highs and then drops into disrepair. Tale as old as time.
“I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re not going to worry about what you should be doing, or what I’m doing, or whatever the fuck it is that goes on in your head all the time. You’re not going to make any decisions, you’re not going to think. ” He says. He removes his shoe from Gerard’s back, crouching down to grab his jacket from the floor where he knows there’s a packet of lube in the front pocket of his wallet. “You’re just gonna take it , alright?”
Gerard whines when he hears the packet being torn open, pushing his ass back against Frank’s hand where it’s come to rest against Gerard’s hip. The fact that even the sound alone does this to Gerard makes his cock twitch so he doesn’t waste time before he’s coating his fingers and pressing them against his hole.
“ Please.” Gerard says, he sounds like he might be crying again, or at least close to it.
Frank doesn’t waste time. He pushes two fingers in at once because he knows Gerard can take it, knows how he whines if Frank takes too long easing him in all gently. Normally this would be encouragement to take as long as possible, until Gerard was shaking and begging for more, but Frank is already too worked up to do that tonight.
He scissors his fingers quickly before hooking them up to press against that spongy soft place inside Gerard. They’ve done this enough that he knows exactly where to find it and the reaction is immediate from beneath him. Gerard’s thighs shake, already struggling to hold himself up and his breathing is coming in sharp pants, muffled slightly from where he’s holding the palm of his hand against his mouth.
Frank slides his fingers out and Gerard gasps once, and then again when Frank’s hand comes down with a crack against the fleshy skin of his ass. He takes a moment to squeeze there, and then to do the same with both of his hands around Gerard’s hips. Watching as the skin shakes and bounces with the movement.
“God- you were just fucking made for this, you know?” He says, slapping Gerard’s ass again hard just so he can watch the imprint his hand leaves behind turn pink. “Should dress you up or something. Put somethin’ nice on for me and take you out. Keep you how you were tonight, just quiet and pretty and waitin’ to get fucked.”
He’s toyed with the idea before. He knows at this point Gerard is pretty much just waiting for permission, some kind of outside encouragement. He’s seen the way Gerard’s eyes linger at certain mall window displays, or the twitch of jealousy in his lips when he sees a particularly good outfit on a girl. Gerard’s answering moan confirms his theories, and he rolls his hips down like he’s seeking some kind of friction. Something, anything. Frank is sure he’s fucking aching.
He slides his hand over his cock, hissing a little at the cool glide as he smears lube over the head and down the length before he shifts forward just to press himself against against Gerard’s hole, rubbing himself up and down against his crack. He braces one hand against Gerard’s shoulder before tangling the other in his bright hair and pulling back again hard, forcing Gerard’s head to tilt back and face him as much as he can. “You’d look real pretty like that.” He says before gathering as much saliva as he can onto his tongue and spitting it onto Gerard's face. “But I like you like this best, I think. You look fucking wrecked , Gee.”
“Frank, please!” Gerard begs, his mouth falling open, panting. “Get inside me, fuck me, just fucking- please I-!”
Gerard’s voice is cut off as Frank pushes into him, hard and fast and brutal. The noise Gerard makes after that sounds like a punch to the chest before it melts into a long whine. His arms give out almost immediately but that’s fine, Frank lets go of his hair and grips onto his hips instead, hard enough to leave little purple finger shaped bruises tomorrow, he’s sure. He uses the angle to slam Gerard’s hips back as he thrust himself forward, angling up in a way that brings breathy little “ ah ah ahs” from Gerard’s lips.
The heat around his cock feels like it’s probably melting his brain somehow. Everything feels underwater, gray around the edges like nothing exists beyond pushing himself further into Gerard as hard as possible.
He uses his thigh to kick Gerard’s knees out from under him and forces them both flat against the floor. He presses his hand up against the center of Gerard’s back, crushing him while he uses the other to hold himself up, never slowing his pace. The pressure must be working for Gerard because he’s grinding his hips down now against the carpet.
“Fuckin’ quit it.” Frank growls, pushing into Gerard harder to punctuate the statement.
“Can’t Frankie I- M’ gonna cum, I need to, please!” Gerard begs from underneath him, breath hitching with every word.
“You’re not cumming before I do.” Frank says, pulling out again almost to the tip before slamming back in, angling up so he jackhammers against Gerard’s prostate. He’s getting close himself, feeling that familiar tug low in his stomach, but he doesn’t want Gerard to know that yet. Instead he shakes his hand around and slips two fingers in between Gerard’s slack lips, and then three when he stretches his mouth wider around the intrusion. He’s fully sobbing now, choked off wet little things and the edges of his teeth catch against the calluses of Frank’s fingers with every thrust.
“Ankie’” he whines loudly, voice muffled and slurred around Frank’s hand. “I can’t I can’t I can’t-“
Frank thrust in one more time before slipping out, the two of them hissing at the sudden absence of pressure. Frank’s shaking now, breathing like there isn’t enough air in the room as he flips Gerard over. Gerard’s hair is stuck to his forehead, caked with sweat and tears, his eyes are rolled back, eyelids fluttering. Frank thinks of that stupid saying, the lights are on but no ones home.
Gerard’s nipples are red and puffy from being scratched against the rough hotel carpet so he leans down and takes one in between his teeth as he works his hand around the length of his own cock quickly, sliding up and down without any real rhythm at this point, just chasing. Gerard’s spine curves up into a perfect bow and he moans throaty and loud as Frank speaks.
“I’m gonna cum all over your pretty face, Gee.” He’s about to cum, his toes are curling and he feels like his vision is literally whiting out as he sits up, straddling Gerard’s chest. Gerard’s head is lax against the floor, neck barred and mouth open as he watches Frank. “You’re mine, Gee, you know that? I can do whatever I want to you, and whatever you put in your body, whoever you speak to? It’s all up to me.”
Gerard nods fervently, his voice fucked out and gasping as he moans “ yours, yours, m’ yours, Frank.” Like a prayer.
Frank’s orgasm hits him like a bullet to the chest, curling in on himself and whining as his cum erupts in long white spurts across Gerard’s face, painting over his lips, his cheeks, his eyes. The euphoria of it is mind numbing and he has to look away for a moment when he sees Gerard’s pink tongue peeking out to lick Frank’s cum from his own lips.
“Fuck- Fuck, Gerard, c’mon.” He leans down again, bracing his forearm just over Gerard’s shoulder as he wraps his other hand around Gerard’s cock. It’s deep red and straining, Gerard hisses like it hurts as soon as Frank touches him and he barely has to move his hand at all before Gerard is cumming over his own chest, over Frank’s hand. His voice is cut off, silent with his mouth open in a perfect O while his eyes squeeze shut and he shakes apart underneath Frank. It’s beautiful, and completely fucking filthy.
“That’s perfect, baby. Fuck- look at you, fucking wrecked for me, Gee. So fucking pretty. My perfect girl. ” He barely knows what he’s saying, practically delirious when he finally collapses there against Gerard’s chest, ignoring the sticky hot cum being smeared between them.
He’s not quite caught his breath yet when he pulls himself away to assess Gerard. His knees and elbows are chaffed red from the carpet, and there’s bruises already forming around his hips and throat, but nothing that seems too dire. He’s still laying limp against the floor though, arms folded up by his head and his chest heaving. His hair is a bright red halo around his face and Frank knows he probably should describe the sight as angelic, not with the streaks of cum and spit and tears across his features, but that’s how it feels.
He’s still crying, not the full on sobs from before but quiet sniffling now, like he can’t help it. Frank doesn’t even consider the mess for a second before he’s tugging Gerard up and into his lap, settling them both with his back against the wall. “Shhh, baby, you did so good, so good for me.” He whispers against Gerard’s hair, placing his lips wherever they can reach, his forehead, his eyebrow, the crown of his head. His fingers trail up and down Gerard’s back, massaging out the sore muscles.
They stay like that for a long time. Gerard’s tears stop eventually and he just goes quiet, breath only hitching occasionally as Frank rubs his back gently and rocks them back and forth. Frank needs this part too, just as much as Gerard does. He needs to feel the aggression and the adrenaline melt away while he holds Gerard.
Eventually though his thighs begin to ache and his need for water overrides his want to stay on the hotel floor the rest of the night. He tugs Gerard up, wrapping his arm around the other man’s waist as he guides them towards the bed. “C’mon, just lay down, sweetheart. I’m gonna get us cleaned up.” He says.
Gerard nods faintly and collapses into the white sheets before curling onto his side so he can watch Frank while he slips into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water before he returns and kneels beside the bed in front of Gerard. The other man flinches only slightly when the cloth touches his skin, Frank starts with his face, wiping away the sweat and tears and cum before trailing down to his chest, his cock, his long pale legs.
He gives himself a perfunctory wipe down before slipping into the bed himself. He pulls the sheets up and around them before turning to his side and tugging Gerard close against his chest, his nose pressed against the back of Gerard’s neck. “You back with me?” He asks quietly.
Gerard raises his hand and makes a flapping “ so so” gesture and Frank laughs a little. “That’s okay.” He says. “We’ve got time.”
They’ll have to talk about it in the morning. The coke, the jealousy, the scene itself, but right now all Frank can focus on is the soft press of Gerard’s warm skin against his own, how their breathing is synced in the quiet hotel room, how Gerard’s long fingers are tracing tiny circles onto the top of Frank’s hand.
He lets it lull him into a deep sleep.