Gerard Way/Frank Iero. High school AU. Tentacles. NC-17. ~10,600 words. Most ridiculous and amazing banner by the most ridiculous and amazing @cee_m. Similarly, this fic for rivers_bend.
Frank slides his hand all the way up to where Gerard’s arm and tentacles fuse at his armpit. The difference between the feel of one beneath his palm and the other is literally the stuff his dreams are made of. His wet dreams.
Frank is lurking. If someone caught him three months ago hanging around the hall outside the art room, peeking through the crack between the door and the jamb, he would’ve freaked out, blurted some really stupid excuse, and taken off like a bat out of hell. Now, when Joy from his sixth period history class rounds the corner, scaly arms laden with musty books, and a snatch of half-sung words floats through the door, all he does is put a finger to his lips and grin when she rolls her eyes. As she nears, slowing to a stop and craning her neck to get a look inside, Frank whispers, “He’s busy.”
Joy watches quietly for a handful of seconds. She takes a breath and Frank rocks up on his toes, excitedly babbling, “I know! It’s so fucking cool!” right over the half-syllable she managed to eke out. Both her eyebrows fly up. Frank grins and blushes and doesn’t even care.
“What’s really cute is how much of a stalker you turned out to be,” she says, resettling her books in the crook of her elbow. “When’s his next pee break?”
Frank’s flush cranks it up another couple degrees, and he still doesn’t care. His face could melt right off and he wouldn’t give a shit. “Smoke break,” he corrects, eyeballing the way Gerard’s nibbling the side of the index finger on his off-hand. The smooth rhythm of the three brushes he’s working with is slowing down, hitching as they veer dangerously close to one another. “In like, fifteen seconds.”
“You’re not as ninja as you think you are,” Gerard calls out, the high vaulted ceilings making his voice echo awesomely.
Busted, Frank thinks gleefully. “Gotta go,” he tells Joy, bumping open the door with his hip. She rolls her eyes again and heads off, and Frank makes a big show of shutting the door. The click it makes when it latches sends a shivery jolt up his spine.
Gerard’s standing with his arms crossed, most of his attention on the canvases in front of him as he busily cleans his brushes. Sometimes, when Frank’s been sneaky enough to make it past the hall monitors into Gerard’s room for the night, Gerard does that in his sleep. It feels pretty awesome when it’s Frank’s fingers Gerard’s tentacles are twisting delicately around, squeezing just hard enough to wake him up. Midnight boners are not exactly new territory for Frank. Someone right there willing to give him a helping hand–a helping tentacle, fuck yeah–that is shiny and new and an amazing thing of pure fucking beauty.
When Frank’s mom gave him the teary-eyed speech about how much she was gonna miss her little boy but this school was the best choice for him, surrounded by people who would love and appreciate him for who he is, he doesn’t think that’s exactly what she meant. But hey, works for him.
Giving up on his casual stroll across the art room about three feet in, Frank breaks into a run and launches himself straight into Gerard’s arms. He gets his ankles hooked behind Gerard’s back about the same time Gerard gets both arms and all four tentacles wrapped around him, tight on his waist and bracing his ass. He wriggles hard, delighted at the secure hold, grinning the biggest shit-eating grin he’s got when Gerard grunts. Frank’s stuck in one of the school blazers, but everything Gerard owns is sleeveless, and fuck he looks good in a vest. Pure muscle ripples as the tentacle curled over Frank’s shoulder blade snakes up to shove hair out of his eyes. “Hi,” Frank says to it. “How’s it goin’?”
Gerard’s tentacle-tip settles on Frank’s jaw and very deliberately turns him so they’re face to face. He’s smiling so hard at Gerard’s imperious look he thinks his skull is gonna crack from the force of it. Fuck. Fuck. He loves this shit. “I thought you were gonna meet me in study hall?” Gerard asks, like he isn’t fighting off a giggle fit as Frank tries to worm his way closer when they’re already practically fused together.
“Study hall sucks,” Frank says, struggling to shrug out of his backpack. “Figured I could suck you instead.”
Bright colour explodes all over Gerard’s pale face. It’s fucking awesome. The guy’s maybe half a foot taller than he is and barely notices supporting his dead weight, but mention head and Gerard’s sweating bullets. The only thing that could be more awesome is if Gerard would actually let Frank suck him.
“Seriously,” Frank says, edging a hand towards Gerard’s belt buckle digging into his belly. “I know I promised I wouldn’t, like, peer-pressure you. This is not peer pressure.”
One of Gerard’s eyebrows crooks suspiciously. “Really.”
“Nope,” Frank says. He firmly tucks his fingers into Gerard’s belt to make them behave, relishing the warmth seeping through the thin cotton of Gerard’s crookedly-buttoned school shirt. “This is me letting you know that I really, really, and I mean would fucking really here, like to get my mouth on your dick.” He smiles winningly. “Upfront honesty about my needs and all that jazz you love.”
“I meant personal space and being open about our feelings and, and,” Gerard says, gaze darting around the room as he thinks before zipping back to Frank’s, “and emotional support, Frank. Those needs.”
“Sucking your dick is something I have a lot of feelings about!”
“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” Frank leans back, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest. His stomach gives a tiny thrilling swoop as tentacles shift automatically to support him. “You’re marginalising me.”
Gerard’s mouth drops open. “I–”
“You are,” Frank says, biting at the corner of his lip to keep a smile hidden. This is totally the ace hidden up his sleeve. No way Gerard’s gonna say no to him now. “I get it, okay? Things aren’t exactly boring down there.” Once, just once in two months, Frank’s gotten his hand on Gerard’s junk. Before Gerard screamed and flailed and fucking fell out of bed, he had enough time to figure out that there was more happening in Gerard’s pants than usual. Like way more than packing some serious heat. “And I’m not gonna say I don’t care, ’cause obviously I care or I wouldn’t be all, hey, Gee, lemme get all up in your business already about it.”
“But,” Gerard tries to interrupt, looking shifty.
“But I’m not gonna pretend I’m not popping wood every fucking five minutes thinking about it, either.” Twisting around sharply, Frank makes a grab for one of Gerard’s tentacles, its nervous twitching instantly soothed the second it wraps around his wrist. Gerard scowls at it like it’s a traitor as Frank slides his hand all the way up to where Gerard’s arm and tentacles fuse at his armpit. The difference between the feel of one beneath his palm and the other is literally the stuff his dreams are made of. His wet dreams. “Plus, if you’re gonna fuck me, I’m gonna have to see you with your pants off, so you might as well just get the big reveal over with already.”
Gerard’s mouth snaps shut with a hard clack of teeth. His eyes go big and round and disbelieving. “What?” he squeaks.
“Yeah, you heard me.” Frank gives a little wiggle, trying to get some breathing room. It’s not that he actually minds Gerard holding onto him so hard his ribs creak, but if they’re gonna talk, he needs oxygen. “I’ve known you for like, a year already.”
“But we’ve only been dating for seven and a half weeks!” Gerard protests, his eyes close to popping straight out of his head.
This guy, seriously. This fucking guy. Of course he’s been keeping count right down to the day. Frank shoves his hands into Gerard’s messy hair and kisses the ever-loving fuck out of him, tongue shoved straight down his throat right off the bat. Gerard makes a garbled noise and stumbles back, bumping Frank’s knee into an easel.
“Careful,” Frank slurs, biting at Gerard’s lip, “those are fucking works of art back there,” and he tries to go back to making friends with Gerard’s tonsils. Gerard makes another one of those noises, weirdly sexy, and oh yeah, right. Right. One of these days Frank’ll remember Gerard likes a little warm up first. He dials it back to just lips and a little bit of tongue, relishing the way Gerard’s fingers clench in his shirt. By the time Gerard’s eased him down to his feet, bent low so they can keep kissing, Gerard’s tentacles squeezing rhythmically on Frank’s arms, kinda kneading almost, he figures it’s in the bag. “Okay?” he asks, still a little slurry.
Gerard’s kisses tremble to a stop. “What, now?”
Hell yes, now. Fucking yesterday. Frank looks up, hopeful, but Gerard’s expression has flipped over to flat-out terrified. “I would,” Frank says, shrugging. No point lying about it. “But I kinda wanna take my time and shit, so like, tonight?”
Gerard looks like he’s ready to rabbit. He’s not even fucking breathing. If Frank’s gonna get fucking anywhere here, he’s gonna have to play dirty.
“Yeah,” Frank drawls, idly stroking the tentacle still wrapped around his wrist with his thumb. Gerard’s eyelashes flutter, threatening to go heavy. Feeling kinda silly about it, like he’s wooing some chick in an old-time movie, Frank brings his wrist and Gerard’s tentacle up to his mouth. It tastes exactly the same as the rest of him does, soft and firm and a little salty when he tongues a kiss to it. Which makes sense–it’s just skin, hairless and smooth like Gerard’s arms, but really, really different with nothing but muscle powering it, no tendon or ligament or bone. “Shit,” he laughs, mouth still pressed against it. “Shit. I’m hard.”
“Shit,” Gerard echoes, mouth slack. His throat bobs as he swallows. “I’ve got a free period.”
“I don’t,” Frank grouses, stepping back so Gerard’s got a nice view when he adjusts his dick. Gerard’s pretty obviously hard too. He’s hunched over like he’s trying to hide it, but seriously, he’d need a fucking burka to cover that shit. “So, tonight?” Frank makes his eyes go big. “Please?”
“Jesus,” Gerard croaks.
“Yes!” Frank crows, fist in the air. He busts out a victory lap, which Gerard tolerates with a roll of his eyes and a lopsided smile that doesn’t do a damn thing to hide how much he totally loves Frank, and Frank swings back around to crash straight into Gerard’s chest. Arms and tentacles snap up to catch him. “Fuck. Fuck. I can’t wait.”
“Don’t tell me that,” Gerard groans, rubbing at the flush on his neck. “I don’t know what you’re imagining, but whatever it is, it’s not what you’re gonna get.”
“It’s gonna be better,” Frank says, slapping both hands to Gerard’s cheeks to hold him still for a loud, smacking kiss, “because it’s gonna be real.”
Gerard doesn’t look convinced. Whatever. Frank doesn’t give a shit. He’s the one here who knows exactly what kinda shit goes on inside his head. He can’t fucking wait.
Frank spends the whole day practically vibrating out of his skin. At dinner, he sits plastered to Gerard’s side, Gerard’s hand held firmly captive in his. Grinning, Wentz snaps a picture. Two seconds later, Gerard’s phone starts buzzing. He fishes it out of his pocket with a tentacle while he eats, flips it open, and rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says to Wentz. “Really?”
“What is it?” Frank asks, right before his own phone goes off. Not wanting to let go of Gerard’s hand, or leave his plate undefended, he hikes his ass up so Gerard can fish it out of his back pocket and flip it open for him.
do not fuck this up, says the text from Mikey. i will cut you.
Gerard snaps Frank’s phone shut. He curls it tight in a tentacle, effectively cutting Frank off from telling Mikey that there’s no way he’s gonna fuck this up. Gerard could be fucking dickless down there and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t care. They’d figure something out. “You’re spying on me for my brother.”
“Lil’ bro worries about you, man,” Wentz says. “Especially when you’re shacking up with a dude who’s got a rep.”
“Whatever,” Frank says. So he messed around lots his sophomore year. He’s over it. It was kinda cool at the time, hooking up with people who weren’t bothered by the weird tie-dye mottle that’s his skin, or the way it shifts like Rorschach’s mask in the movie when he gets angry or turned on. Not only does Gerard not give a shit, he calls it art–art–and tells him it’s beautiful. It doesn’t matter that Gerard’s got a slightly skewed sense of beauty.
“It’s not whatever,” Gerard says, voice rising like he’s gearing up for the big one. “It’s using shaming language about something that’s totally natural and normal and right, and it’s a dick move. Why would I care that you wanted to learn about yourself, and enjoyed having people actually fucking wanting you for you?” He points a threatening tentacle square at Wentz’s face. “Say you’re sorry for being a total heartless sack of shit or I’m telling Mikey you only hooked up with him last summer because you thought he was hiding tentacle legs.”
Wentz’s face twists up sourly. “He’s so fucking bendy,” he mutters. “I was so sure.”
Gerard’s tentacle jabs the air about an inch from his eye.
“Alright, alright, fuck,” Wentz bitches. “You’re a slut and that’s awesome, keep up the–hey.” His face screws up again, this time in deep thought, before he rounds on Gerard with the scariest big-toothed grin ever. “That is awesome. Gimme some tentacle!”
Scowling furiously, Gerard says, “Asshole.”
Wentz gapes. “Dude’s got skills, man.”
“I do,” Frank says smugly. His thinks his chances of them being be up to snuff for dealing with whatever Gerard’s hiding in his pants are pretty good, too.
“Skills,” Wentz repeats, thrusting his fist at Gerard again. “Skills all up in your business.”
Gerard’s tentacle resting heavily against Frank’s thigh gives a kinda nervous, kinda eager quiver. Frank squeezes Gerard’s hand tight.
“Yeah,” Wentz drawls.
“You’re still an asshole,” Gerard says, but there’s a tiny smug smile lurking in the corner of his mouth as he curls one into a little fist and bumps it against Pete’s knuckles. One of his other tentacles is still wrapped around Frank’s waist, tip snuck under his shirt to stroke bare skin. Frank’s whole body buzzes.
An hour past lights-out finds Frank sneaking through dorm hallways wishing for the millionth time that he could control the colours rippling over his skin and blend into the dark wooden paneling like a really kick-ass chameleon or something. He should’ve waited until at least midnight before sneaking out, but he couldn’t. And apparently neither could Bob, his roommate, who shoved him out the door with a grunted good luck and the suspicious snick of a lock. Frank has yet to figure out what’s freaky enough about Bob to land him in Special Snowflake High. He’d been about to embark on a fairly complicated three-week campaign to do just that, and had swung by the art room to see if Gerard wanted in. That was the day this whole thing finally hit him. The Gerard-thing. The one where Frank wanted to get in Gerard’s pants. He already knew he loved the guy, that was a no-brainer. The sex part, though, was a surprise.
Then again, maybe not. Before he came up with the Bob mission, he did spend a month straight trying to figure out ways grope Gerard’s tentacles, executing them with supremely dorky effectiveness. The one where he nipped a tentacle in a drawer and offered to kiss it better is still his favourite. Really fucking transparent, too. But hey, he got to lick Gerard’s tentacle. Score.
Jesus, he can’t wait to see what he gets to lick tonight.
Stuffing his knuckles in his mouth so he won’t burst out with the crazy joyful laughter bubbling up in his belly, Frank takes a quick left, then a right, then a right again to the wide stairway that leads to the senior’s hall. His heart’s beating so damn fast it feels like it’s gonna jump out of his chest. Almost there, almost there–
“Frank,” comes Gerard’s quiet hiss. Frank slaps his other hand over the one already on his mouth to muffle a yelp. Warm tentacles sneak around his wrist, his waist, tugging him through the dark.
“What’re you doin’ out here?” Frank whispers, and wonders if he could get away with stripping down right now.
“I don’t know,” Gerard says, pushing Frank ahead to the thin sliver of yellow light spilling through his door. If anybody spots that shit, they are so busted. “No, I do know, but I don’t know why I thought– I got tired of waiting, and then I took a shower, but that didn’t– Well, y’know, it kinda made it worse, and I was afraid you’d wait until later to sneak up and Frankie, shit, I couldn’t–”
Half a foot from the threshold, Frank turns sharply on his heel. His back thumps against the door as Gerard tumbles into him, stumbling over his bare feet, and then they’re inside shushing each other through stupid breathless giggles and he’s pushing Gerard up against the wall as Gerard fumbles to get the door shut. The second he gets his mouth on Gerard’s, Gerard’s hands are in his hair and there are tentacles around his waist crushing him closer, more pushing under his threadbare tee to clutch at his back. He’s got his dick snugged up tight against Gerard’s thigh, the thick, heavy heat of Gerard’s–
Gerard’s he doesn’t know pressed into his hip.
“Shit,” Frank rasps, shoving back a couple inches, enough so he can see Gerard’s face. He gets stuck there for a minute, because Gerard is seriously fucking pretty flushed dark with his mouth all wet and red and open like that, and then he’s staring straight down at the really fucking impressive bulge in the front of Gerard’s pyjamas. His mouth goes desert-dry, because they’re gonna do this, and then floods wet, because they’re gonna do this.
“Frank,” Gerard starts.
“No, nuh uh, nada,” Frank says, bracing his hands on Gerard’s hips, ready to go down. And down. “Unless you really don’t want me to stick whatever it is you’re packing down there in my mouth.”
Gerard makes a strangled noise low in his throat.
“Because I gotta tell you,” Frank says, nuzzling in close to Gerard’s ear, “as the dude who’s seriously fucking enjoyed having his dick stuffed in your mouth, that’s crazy talk. I really wanna show you what it’s like. Wet and hot and when you suck, oh Jesus, Gee, when you let me get right down there and suck, it’s gonna blow your fucking mind.”
“Stop,” Gerard wheezes, bucking against him, “stop, fuck, you’re gonna make me lose it.”
Frank’s smile cuts viciously sharp into his cheeks. “That’s the plan.” While Gerard’s dazed–fuck, that’s a good look on him, too–Frank slips both hands under the hem of his tank and tugs upwards. It takes Gerard a couple seconds to get with the program enough to lift all available appendages out of the way for Frank to haul it off him. Once it’s gone, crumpled to the floor in a heap, Frank sticks his face right in to the crook of Gerard’s underarm, licking at the shallow grooves between his tentacles. Gerard shudders so hard the back of his head thumps off the door.
“Yeah,” Frank says, trying out a gentle scrape of teeth to see what kind of reaction that nails him this time around. Sometimes Gerard’s ticklish, sometimes he’s not. Tonight it’s half and half, a squirm and a gasp that arrows straight through Frank’s belly. “Imagine that on this,” he says, framing Gerard’s groin in both hands.
Gerard bucks again, harder, hands grabbing at Frank’s arms, tentacles snapping tight around his wrists. He’s so close to all that heat but not close enough to feel the exact shape of what’s hidden behind the thin cotton of Gerard’s grandpa pyjamas. He’s got some ideas. Some really awesome, wickedly-detailed ideas. But he wants to see.
“Back up a sec,” Gerard grates, sweat shiny in the hollow of his throat. “Just–” he pushes lightly on Frank’s arms. “Just, I need a minute.”
Frank backs up a grudging step, then one more. “It’s not gonna change anything,” he says, and quickly tugs his own shirt off. Gerard’s eyes flash wide as he does the same to his pants, stomping them off his feet and leaving them tangled up with his shorts. Gerard’s tentacles do a weird aborted what-the-fuck flail. Frank grins and shrugs. “You didn’t say I couldn’t get naked.”
“But it could,” Gerard insists. “Change things.”
“Actually, yeah,” Frank says. “You’re right. I could want to fuck your brains out even more.”
Gerard snorts an unsteady laugh, but when Frank lifts a hand to beckon him over, he pushes away from the door with his hips. He’s got that cocky swagger thing going on as he makes his way over, hot and ridiculous all at once because it’s just him, just Frank, and Gerard doesn’t need to put on a show.
That’s not saying Frank doesn’t appreciate it. Sexy is fucking sexy, after all.
The minute Gerard’s close enough, Frank reaches out, scooting to the edge of the bed at the same time to pull Gerard between his spread legs. His cock’s standing straight up and he’s so hard he’s leaking, but he keeps his hands on Gerard’s waist, rests his chin on the soft bump of Gerard’s belly. All he does is drag in a breath and Gerard shivers. He can smell how turned on Gerard is. Fucking crazy.
“Okay,” Gerard says, and sets his hands to Frank’s shoulders, tentacles pushing against the backs like he needs the extra help to keep them there. His eyes squeeze shut. “Okay. Go.”
“But your eyes are closed,” Frank says, frowning. He definitely thinks this is something Gerard should watch. He’s never gonna forget the look on Gerard’s face the first time he got naked, shocked and eager and awed and just fucking amazing, like Frank was for real something special, weird mottled skin and all.
“Seriously,” Gerard says, his whole face squishing up. “Do it before I chicken out.”
“Okay, ssh, fuck!” Frank gets ready to yank, then thinks better of it, since yeah, okay, he still has no idea what’s behind door number one and it would really suck if it’s like, super sensitive beyond the norm or something. So he says, “Okay,” again, softer, tugs the lace holding Gerard’s pants up as loose as it’ll go, stretching the band all the way out and giving it a tiny nudge. Then another one, and another, and he doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until Gerard’s pants hit the floor and it whooshes out of him. “Holy shit.”
“I know,” Gerard moans miserably, his eyes still squeezed shut, his nails digging bluntly into Frank’s shoulders. “I know, it’s so fucking freaky, seriously, I–”
“Oh my god,” Frank says, voice tight, “shut up. I’m basking.”
“This is fucking awesome.” So awesome Frank’s like, this fucking close to hyperventilating. He concentrates on breathing, and reminding himself that no, this is not a dream.
“What?” Gerard repeats, cracking open a cautious eye.
“I’ve died and gone to dick heaven,” Frank says, reverently lifting a hand to brush his fingertips over one of Gerard’s dicks. At least he thinks they’re dicks. There are two of them, and they’re kinda more like a cross between a cock and a tentacle, longer and way more slender than Frank but with blunt, thick heads, and a little slick at the tip. When he gets gets close they give this strange little twitch that’s more tentacle-like than dick-like. It is pretty freaky. And also awesome in this total mind-blowing way.
“You’re not freaked out,” Gerard says wonderingly.
“Are you fucking kidding me, I’m so freaked out I’m fucking delirious with joy. Dude. Dude.” Frank grabs onto Gerard’s hips and gives him a shake. “You have multiple dicks. Multiple dicks!”
“I know!” Gerard whisper-shouts, hanging on tighter.
“Multiple! As in more than one!” Frank hisses up at him, and maybe he could quit shaking the guy now but what the fuck, come on. Multiple dicks. Right there! Right in front of his face! “I’m gonna suck the fuck out of them so hard, you are not even gonna believe this shit, holy fuck.”
Gerard starts to say something, and maybe it makes Frank a bad boyfriend, but he’s totally not listening anymore. He scoots back and twists and yanks, tumbling Gerard down onto the bed in a heap of flailing limbs. Gerard lets out another one of those shocked grunts when Frank grabs at the back of his knees, shoves up and says, “Jesus, Jesus, fuck, lemme see,” and alright, Frank’s gonna agree that he’s not being the most solicitous guy right now, but he’d like to see somebody fucking try when they’ve got Gerard flat on his back with his knees up and spread wide, this shocked, cautiously pleased look on his face, all flushed and breathing hard and nothing, fucking nothing blocking the view Frank’s got of the shadowy curve of his ass, the heavy dark weight of his sac and his dicks–dicks! Still plural!–resting thick against his belly.
“I can’t believe you made me wait two fucking months for this,” Frank says. “You blew me on our second date!”
Gerard gestures vaguely with a hand and one tentacle, his other hand busy shoving tangled hair out of his face. “You let me,” he tries, sheepishly biting the corner of his lip.
“Of course I fucking let you! I–” Frank snaps his mouth shut. This is not the time for talking. He can tell Gerard later how he’d stumbled around like a fucking lovesick moon-eyed moron for three weeks before he came up with the brilliant idea to kiss Gerard and see how it went. “Okay,” he says instead, shuffling back on his knees so he’s got room to press Gerard’s legs to the bed, still spread wide around him as he braces his hands on Gerard’s hips to size up how he’s gonna do this shit. “Now you’re gonna let me, right?” He squeezes Gerard’s side once in warning before sliding his hand closer, half his attention on the weirdly anticipatory wetness in his mouth and the other half on the twitch of Gerard’s dicks when he gets his hand around one. A garbled noise echoes low in Gerard’s throat, kinda like he tried to say yes. Frank flicks a quick glance up to make sure that’s what it was, grins at the shell-shocked awe on Gerard’s face, and says, “Fuck, I know. I fucking know, holy shit.”
“What?” Gerard wheezes, hands and tentacles clutching at the messy nest of blankets on the bed. There’s one rogue tentacle hovering uncertainly in the air, like Gerard stopped it mid-grab as it was going for Frank but couldn’t manage to pull it back all the way. Frank swings one of his legs over Gerard’s so he’s not so far away, and gives Gerard’s dick a slow, experimental stroke, watching him shudder all over.
“You can, y’know,” Frank says, finally having to look away from Gerard’s face as he bends low, stretching his fingers out to try to grasp both Gerard’s dicks in one hand but fuck, he needs two, they’re thicker, and a hell of a lot harder, Jesus, than they look. He darts a glance at the uncertain tentacle. “Hold onto me if you want.”
“Oh my god,” Gerard says, and just like that there’s a tentacle draped heavily over the back of his neck and one clutching at his arm and another doing something with the pillows and blankets, tugging them into a heap behind Gerard’s back to prop him up. Frank maybe wants to crack a joke out Gerard being so handy in bed, but Gerard’s staring at him like he’s the second coming or something, reverent and eager, and he says, “Please,” like he’s praying, if he actually believed in a god or something, like he believes in Frank, “Frankie, please.”
Right about then it hits Frank that he’s probably the first person ever to get in Gerard’s pants. Maybe not the first one to get him off, but maybe the first to get him naked, and definitely the first to go down on him. So, like, no pressure there. “I’m gonna,” he says, and has to stop, swallow hard when Gerard makes this noise like a whine. “I mean, like, if I do something that’s not good, you gotta tell me, okay? You’re kinda packing different equipment down here.”
Gerard nods fast, the tentacle on the back of Frank’s neck squeezing tighter. A crazy-good shock of pleasure shoots straight down Frank’s spine into his balls. He’s pretty sure he meant to give Gerard some warning, give the guy a second to brace himself maybe, but next thing he knows he’s got his face shoved in Gerard’s crotch with one of his dicks halfway down his throat and the other pressed tight to his cheek. He gags and chokes and has to pull up sloppily, his face burning because smooth, Iero, really fucking smooth. When he tries to pull off all the way to apologise, he can’t. He pushes against the tentacle heavy on his neck in a hint, but it doesn’t budge. Gerard’s not even looking at him anymore, head tipped so far back all Frank can see is the jut of his chin and the frantic bob of his throat as he gulps air.
Fighting a grin, Frank pushes the flat of his tongue hard against Gerard’s dick. Both the one in his mouth and the one he’s got shoved against his cheek pulse, and wow. He tries it again, adding a little suck since Gerard’s not really giving him much room to move. This time Gerard’s hips snap up, dick [pushed definitely way too far, but even that’s not enough to distract from the way his dicks do this weird pulsing flexing thing like there’s way more than blood keeping them erect.
Frank lets go of Gerard and shoves at the tentacle on his neck. Gerard’s slow to get the hint, even slower to ease up, but when he does, he’s red-faced and embarrassed and Frank says, “Fuck that shit. Don’t fucking even. Do you have fucking muscle down here or something?”
“What?” Gerard scrubs a hand over his mouth, oblivious to the tentacles tight on Frank’s shoulders trying to drag him back down, or else he’s ignoring them and hoping Frank won’t notice. “No?” Frank gives him a flat look. He swallows hard. “A little?”
“Seriously,” Frank says.
“God,” Gerard huffs, and pushes Frank’s hands away from his junk like it’s a big inconvenience or something that Frank is really super interested in how his fucking freaky sexy body works. He gnaws on the inside of his lip, having some stupid internal debate because honestly, after the whole two-dicks thing, nothing’s gonna be a shock, and finally says, “It’s not like they’re prehensile or something, Christ, Frankie. I can just, like, aim.”
“You can aim,” Frank repeats slowly.
Gerard makes like he’s gonna cover his face with his hands and do that oh-my-god-Frank thing he does sometimes when Frank’s being a total shit. Getting there first, Frank grabs onto both of Gerard’s arms and pins them to the bed. That doesn’t mean Gerard hasn’t got four extra limbs to hide behind, but still, it gets his point across. Frank jerks his chin at Gerard’s crotch. “C’mon, show me.”
Rolling his eyes and muttering a curse and basically putting on the biggest show ever about what a pain in the ass Frank is–like that’s gonna distract Frank now–Gerard flexes. That’s the best word Frank’s got for it. Like, his dicks don’t suddenly make like his tentacles or anything, but he can pretty obviously move them in this limited range like pointing a finger. About ten million thoughts start careening around Frank’s skull at the same time, from how that’s kinda ridiculous to also incredibly handy because hello, hands-free fucking, and they all go crashing into one another and tumbling out in a breathless, “Wow.”
“Ta-da,” Gerard says flatly.
“Shut up,” Frank says, “dumbass, holy shit.”
Gerard’s dicks settle back against his belly. Frank can’t stop staring. It takes about three seconds before they reach Gerard’s capacity for sullen silence and he grunts, “What?”
“It’s just really cool. Hey! Quit rolling your eyes at me, fucker,” Frank says, and slaps him in the chest. “You can do all this neat sexy shit and you’re acting like it’s this big fucking trial.”
“Frank,” Gerard says, strangely measured, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, not only do I have these”–all his tentacles give a pointed, coordinated wriggle–”I have two dicks.”
Perched awkwardly on Gerard’s thigh, Frank crosses his arms. “Yeah? I look like an ADD-riddled inkblot on crack, what’s your point?”
“I don’t think it qualifies as what the general population considers sexy, alright,” Gerard grumbles, crossing his arms to mirror Frank but plucking nervously at the sheets with his tentacles.
“Oh fuck you,” Frank snaps, and grabs at one of Gerard’s tentacles, yanking it close but not sure what he’s gonna do with it once he gets it there, so he ends up just, like, clutching it to his chest. “That’s total bullshit and you know it is. You’re the one who’s always telling us to stay ugly and weird and freaky because it’s who we are.” He gestures angrily at Gerard’s everything, his too-pretty face and soft belly, the shallow curve of his dicks resting against it and the flush darkening his pale skin. “You don’t think that’s fucking beautiful?”
“Frank,” Gerard starts.
“No, I mean it,” Frank says, softer, sinking down to bring his face right up close to Gerard’s, his breath on Gerard’s lips making them tremble. “Fuck you, because I get so fucking hard just thinking about you, and I jerk off remembering what it’s like to have your stupid tentacles on me, these things right here, okay,” and he shoves one in Gerard’s face. “And in ten minutes when you finally get your stupid head out of your stupid ass you’re gonna jerk me off with ‘em while you fuck me with your fucking freaky perfect dicks. Got it?”
Gerard tries to swallow and breathe at the same time and ends up choking. Frank lets him cough in his face until he manages to drag in a ragged breath. “Okay?” Frank repeats, just in case.
“Okay,” Gerard echoes, ruined and raspy. He runs his hands down Frank’s naked back like it’s his first time touching skin, this crazy mix of eager and tentative when he follows with his tentacles that nails Frank right in the gut. When his fingers hit Frank’s ass, he squeezes gently. “But can I do this first?”
“‘Course,” Frank says, because Jesus, fingering’s kinda– Oh. That is not a finger Gerard’s got pressed against him. He totally can’t help the way he arches into it with a shiver. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gerard says, stroking gently with just the tip of one tentacle, coaxing, like Frank fucking needs to be talked into something he’s been trying to figure out how to ask for. It’s wet and slippery already, and Frank twists around wondering if maybe Gerard’s been keeping the ability to fucking secrete lube from him, too. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved when he spots a bottle leaking all over the sheets.
Then Gerard starts pushing.
“Oh fuck,” Frank says, pressing his forehead hard against Gerard’s sharp collarbone.
Gerard says, “Easy, Frankie, s’bigger than fingers,” which is probably supposed to be cautious and reassuring but just sounds fucking dirty and makes Frank want to take it right the fuck now. He grabs onto the first part of Gerard he can reach instead, which turns out to be a tentacle that snakes all the way up his arm to anchor him. He grits his teeth and breathes hard and tries not to think about how the messy blots on his skin must be jittering around like squirrels on speed. There’s no burn, just sweet, slick stretch, a twist of pressure, and holy fuck, Gerard should’ve fucking stuck a tentacle up his ass weeks ago.
A shaky laugh puffs through Frank’s hair. “Glad you like it,” Gerard says, probably aiming for smug and cheeky but mostly hitting genuine because that’s the kinda guy he is. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he adds, doing the twist-push thing again that makes white explode behind Frank’s eyelids. “They’re more sensitive than my fingers. More nerve endings, probably.” Ducking his head, hands and tentacles holding Frank steady, he presses their mouths together, and they’d be kissing if Frank wasn’t busy trying to suck in air. “You feel even better than I thought you would. Softer, Frankie. So fucking hot.”
Frank just nods, which is kinda stupid, but he’s shaking so hard it’s like his first time all over again. He says, “Keep going, c’mon,” letting more of his weight settle into Gerard’s hold, then a little more, more until he’s barely holding himself up. “So not like your fingers, holy fuck.”
“Good, though?” Gerard asks, like Frank’s dick drilling a hole through his thigh isn’t much of a clue. Frank grunts a half-assed answer, back snapping into a tight arch as Gerard flexes inside him, twists and presses and strokes and god, oh god oh fuck, Frank’s gonna come. He beats the side of his fist against Gerard’s shoulder like a total neanderthal, trying to get gonna come, gonna come across without opening his mouth because if he does, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna scream it’s that good. They’re totally not being as quiet as they fucking should be, but there’s making noise and then there’s fucking making noise.
Gerard stops immediately, which is good, okay, that’s good, but it’s also really not. He struggles against Gerard trying to push him up to get a look at his face, but Gerard’s voice is doing that frantic worried thing like the time he blew his load in his shorts while sucking Frank off and maybe kinda sorta bit Frank’s dick a little.
“S’okay,” Frank gasps out, staring at his shaking hands like they’re not really his. Fuck, he is so into this, it’s crazy. “Just, fuck. I was gonna come. And that’s awesome, right, like, it’s really fucking awesome, but I want you to fuck me. Gee, you gotta fuck me.”
Gerard makes a low, strangled sound, eyes wide and glittering dark in the lamplight. “Shit,” he says in a rush, his hold on Frank going so tight it actually kinda aches. “Shit, now I’m gonna come.”
“You totally are,” Frank promises, rummaging through the sheets for the rubbers he’s sure he saw like, five minutes ago. If he breathes nice and slow and really, really concentrates, he’ll probably last long enough for Gerard to suit up. “But not before you get your dick in my ass, okay? Oh fuck, dicks.” Dicks. Giving up the search, Frank fists up two rough handfuls of Gerard’s hair and yanks on it. “We should do that. Can we do that? We’re gonna do that.”
“Do what,” Gerard starts, wincing and carefully trying to disentangle Frank’s fingers with a tentacle. “Frank, Jesus, ow.”
Frank gives Gerard another rough shake by his hair. He’s got to fucking pay attention. “Fuck me with both of ‘em!”
Gerard’s big stupid pretty eyes get even bigger. He even stops breathing for a second.
“Yeah,” Frank says smugly. “Like that.”
“But,” Gerard rasps, “but, you can’t– Frank.”
“I can totally take it.” He’s gonna fucking try, anyway. They’ll just go slow and easy and– “You’ll have to like, really like, y’know, open me up and stuff. With– The way you were.” Shuffling up, Frank resettles his knees either side of Gerard’s hips, twisting around to size up the angle and oh yeah, that’s where those fucking condoms went. He grabs up the strip of three and rips two off. “Point those things my way for a sec.”
“Frank,” Gerard says, in his please-listen-to-me-you’re-crazy voice. But hey, Frank’s totally got hold of his dicks and is awkwardly rolling a condom down each, so obviously the whole, “I don’t think we should, the first time, I mean– Frank? Frank! Frank, are you fucking listening to me?” bit is a total front.
“Jesus, you’re hard,” Frank says, giving Gerard’s dick a slow stoke-squeeze. Gerard grunts and bucks up and yeah, Frank wants that in his ass. It’s pretty staggering to realise how much. He knew he liked it, but he likes it. Like, possibly in the way where he’s totally fetishising Gerard’s freakiness, which is not cool but also really fucking cool. Dropping down on his elbows, he tucks his face into the sweaty crook of Gerard’s neck. He’s kinda shaking again. “Please, okay? It’s you.”
Gerard makes a tortured noise, one of his hands in Frank’s hair and his tentacles draped heavily over Frank’s back. “Fucking cheating,” he mutters, but he’s making the slow trek south, stroking Frank’s hip and then his ass, then pressing gently between his legs. Frank arches deliberately into the touch, his breath catching hard in his throat when the pressure goes from outside to in, and then the curve of his spine isn’t so much deliberate as it is helpless. Gerard’s slick and hot and thick and he keeps rocking back, imagining what that’ll be like when it’s more. He bites at Gerard’s shoulder to muffle a whine.
“God, Frankie,” Gerard mumbles, his hands restless on Frank’s back. His dicks bump into Frank’s ass when he arches up, and his face does this awesome oh-my-god thing before he remembers to be embarrassed about it or some shit that Frank’s not fucking having, okay. He scoots back as much as he can with Gerard’s tentacle in his ass, oh my fucking god, and tries to rub against Gerard’s dicks like this really messed up uncoordinated lap dance or something. Air whistles through Gerard’s teeth.
“Fuck yeah, yeah,” Frank groans, perfectly willing to admit maybe he’s way more into this than is healthy, because every time one of Gerard’s dicks drags over skin, his whole body shudders. He wants Gerard to rub ‘em all over him, everywhere, his ass and his face and fuck, his belly and his chest and everywhere. “Please, please, c’mon,” he says, groping for one and pressing it alongside Gerard’s tentacle inside him, not trying to sit on it yet like he kinda really wants to but getting it slippery from the lube as Gerard fucks him open way too slowly. He seriously wishes he hadn’t been so quick to get a rubber on him. Later, like, really fucking later, he’s gonna get Gerard to hold him down and hump him or something, just so he can feel Gerard all naked and slick against bare skin.
Then it hits him that he should be totally sharing these awesome thoughts with Gerard, so he does, halting and hitched as Gerard keeps touching him. It’s not long before Gerard’s whole face is screwed up and he’s grabbed onto Frank’s hips with a tentacle pressing his dicks against Frank’s ass humping away, and as fucking good as that is, Frank has a motherfucking plan.
“Wait,” Frank says, grinning at how breathy and weird his voice sounds. Gerard makes a noise like he really doesn’t fucking want to, which is like lightyears ahead of the immediate oh-shit freeze Frank thought was gonna hit him. But seriously, tentacle is good, tentacle is awesome, but Frank wants dick. He can’t wait to see the stupid fucking gorgeous faces Gerard’s gonna make. “Go for it, okay? Like, really slow.”
“Shit,” Gerard pants, “shit, shit, shit,” groaning at the way Frank shudders when he slips out, and then it’s his dick, his dick, right there pressed against Frank’s hole. Gerard grabs onto Frank’s arms so hard all the swimming colours get shoved aside, leaving Frank’s skin this weird normal tone that he can’t stop staring at. Frank’s not sure what he’s expecting, definitely not Gerard shoving it in all wham-bam, but not this steady slide either. No hesitation, no uncertainty, slow like Frank said but not easy, Gerard’s tentacles on Frank’s hips both holding him steady and forcing him down until they’re flush together and he’s just hanging there in Gerard’s hold wheezing and trembling and so fucking turned on he can’t even fucking see. There are spots dancing in front of his eyes, a crazy mottle like his skin, and all he can think is oh god, oh god, he is so fucking full.
“Fuck,” grunts Gerard, “fuck.”
Frank busts out with this ragged kinda hysterical sounding laugh. “I know, right?” he says, and fuck, his voice is bombed. Like crumbling buildings and smoking rubble and sparking electrical fires kind of bombed. He figured it’d be deep. Gerard is big, okay, but fuck, it’s really deep. Like so deep Frank can’t even fucking move because he doesn’t remember how. Maybe he was kinda thinking about riding Gerard a little, really giving him the whole nine yards, but when he tries, all he can do is twitch and moan and pant and pretty much collapse against Gerard’s chest. “You gotta,” he slurs, “you gotta, like, fuck, Gee, move.”
Gerard says something that sounds like, “Okay,” only less with actual syllables, and he shifts and squirms and doesn’t even get around to figuring out how to thrust with Frank’s dead weight on top of him before Frank’s clawing chunks out of his shoulders. Like, okay, not for real clawing chunks out, but there are these deep red crescents dug into Gerard’s shoulder, and oh fuck, his chest too, Frank totally missed when he did that. He didn’t think he was so fucking violent, either, despite all the crashing around and banging into stuff and jumping on people shit he gets up to, but it doesn’t look like Gerard fucking minds or anything, holding onto Frank so tight, so hard it’s gonna bruise, hands and tentacles and Frank couldn’t fucking move if he wanted to. It’s all Gerard, yanking him down and fucking up into him, melting his brain and making it like, fucking explode at the same time.
A tentacle slips over Frank’s mouth and Frank fucking screams.
“Oh god,” Gerard says, pressing it tighter. “Frankie, Frankie, fuck, babe, you gotta be quiet, somebody’s gonna hear.”
Frank shakes his head violently, hands braced on Gerard’s chest trying to get the leverage to lift up higher, slam down harder. Total stupid sappy cliché or stock line out of a porno or whatever, Gerard’s dick is doing things to him he’s never fucking felt before, way beyond the stretch or the zing of shocky pleasure when it presses against that spot that makes his head spin. It’s not like Frank’s got all this experience or anything, despite the whole slutty thing last year, but he’s gotten his fair share and he thinks he’s pretty well qualified to say Gerard is the most fucking amazing lay ever. And that’s aside from the whole being Gerard thing that Frank is totally ridiculously in love with. Quiet is not something Frank’s physically capable of being right now, and Gerard’s fucking tentacle hot and heavy on his mouth isn’t exactly helping.
Frank’s eyes snap open. Oh fuck yes, yes. He’s a fucking genius. He tilts his head down and stretches his mouth wide and pushes his tongue against Gerard’s tentacle and sucks on it a little bit. Gerard says, “What the fucking fuck,” and then the world’s this bizarre, disjointed tumble, shit happening way too fast for Frank’s battered brain to keep up with. It’s still rattling around inside his skull when he figures out he’s flat on his back with Gerard between his legs, paused right before shoving back inside him. Gerard looks as shocked to be there as Frank feels.
“Wow,” Frank croaks.
“I don’t,” Gerard starts breathlessly, staring at his hands curled under Frank’s ass, his tentacles around Frank’s legs, holding him halfway off the bed. “I didn’t mean to, I just– fuck.”
It takes Frank another couple seconds to figure out how this talking-in-full-sentences thing works. Gerard’s still looking uncertain and startled, but he’s not letting Frank go or anything. “You’re just naturally this total fucking sex fiend, that’s cool,” Frank says. His ass feels all weirdly wet and raw and like, empty. He wouldn’t have suggested they take a breather in the middle of all that awesome, but it’s not so bad. Taking a minute to enjoy it, working out some of the tension built up in his muscles, he thinks, yeah. Yeah, this is good. Gerard’s up there looking pretty fucking mind-blown himself. “I really fucking liked that, by the way. The, like, your tentacle. In my mouth. It was like, can we do that again?”
Gerard’s shaking all over, pretty obviously dying to get back to business, but Frank’s kind of a shit and he’s kinda really enjoying it, and he wants to see how long Gerard’s gonna last before he just goes for it. He’s thinking about that so hard he doesn’t put two and two together about the tentacle snaking behind his neck until the tip flicks over his lips, dips between, sweat-salty and slick. He catches it between his teeth because he can, feels it flick against his tongue and he flicks it back, and it’s kinda like kissing and kinda like giving head when it pushes in further only duh, it’s so totally not. It’s hot and freaky and there is absolutely zero Frank wants to do with his life right now besides get Gerard off. Except maybe get himself off, but seriously, it’s a close thing.
“Aw, shit,” Gerard says. “Fuck, feels like– Fuck, Frankie, I gotta fuck you right the fuck now.”
Frank’s teeth dig a little harder into Gerard’s tentacle as he grins around it. He makes like, what the fuck are you waiting for? with his eyebrows, reaching up with his hands to drag Gerard closer since his legs are all up in the air and Gerard’s holding them so tight he can’t really move. It’s like Gerard doesn’t even notice he’s got Frank fucking immobilised here. He just knees up the bed when Frank tugs on his stringy hair, glances down and curses, and then his eyes are slipping shut and his head’s falling back as he slides on home so fucking easy Frank chokes.
“You feel so fucking good,” Gerard gasps, slumping forward. He catches himself on one hand, a tentacle shoving under Frank’s back to curl around his shoulder and help yank him down hard on Gerard’s dick. “I know you wanted– Fuck, I gotta–” and he’s really fucking going for it, hard and fast and like all the way in, not at all like the short and shallow bit Frank pulls when he’s in somebody, but like his entire dick’s as sensitive as the tip and he can’t fucking stand not having Frank squeezing down on the whole thing. Frank briefly thinks a couple things about trying to move with him, maybe clench up to really let him feel it, stuff like that, but while his brain’s off doing that his body is busy piloting itself, and by piloting he means clutching at Gerard and coming like a motherfucker because Gerard’s fucking other dick is rubbing all awesomely slick-wet against his. Whatever noise he makes gets muffled by the tentacle he’s still got in his fucking mouth and the blood roaring in his ears.
The ragged, half-choked shout Gerard lets out like two seconds later, though, that one he hears. He feels it in his fucking bones, that’s how tuned in he is to Gerard right now. Somehow he manages to peel his eyes open to catch the tail end of Gerard’s face all twisted up, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide, and the way Gerard’s gone tense and trembling and he’s gripping Frank so tight Frank’s pretty sure for a minute Gerard could actually break him and he wouldn’t fucking care.
Gerard sucks in a breath, then another, his sweaty chest heaving, and Frank’s waiting for the lassitude to set in, tentacles and hands to loosen and lower him down and maybe for Gerard to do something ridiculous like rain kisses all over his face. But Gerard’s frozen, all his focus on breathing, and it’s not until Frank glances down that he figures out why.
“Holy fuck,” he garbles around Gerard’s tentacle, then shakes his head and spits it out and says, “Holy fuck,” again. “You didn’t fucking come?”
Gerard twitches, says in a voice strung as tight as his body, “No, no, I did. I just–”
“You’re still fucking hard!” Like Gerard could’ve somehow missed it, Frank jabs a finger at Gerard’s dick snugged up tight against his own, which is all spunk-sticky and not exactly soft, sure, but he’s young and he’s always horny and it’s gonna take him at least like, five minutes before he’s as fucking hard as Gerard is. Shoving at the bed, Frank pushes himself up, ignoring how he’s folded up like a fucking pretzel, and wraps a hand tight around Gerard’s dick. Gerard bucks and moans and wow, he’s still in there. Frank’s gone all weirdly sensitive and it’s not bad, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how he feels about it, either. “Ugh,” he grunts, brilliantly.
Gerard says, “Ugh,” right back at him and tries to fuck his fist, which sorta works and sorta doesn’t. “Shit, I gotta,” he starts saying again, all, “I gotta, I gotta,” and kinda spazzing out like he’s trying to do too many things at once. Frank gets that. Gerard’s got a lot going on up there.
“Gee,” Frank says, reluctantly taking his hand off Gerard’s dick to pat his hip. Gerard whines and shivers, and it takes him way longer than it should to get his eyes open and focused on Frank. He looks so totally out of it still. “Gee, c’mon, stop, tell me what the fuck, man, tell me what you want me to do.”
Making unhappy sounds low in his throat, Gee slows, and stops, and finally manages to shuffle back. His dick sliding free sends a whole-body shudder through Frank and his eyes flash wide, nostrils flaring on a sharp breath like he’s totally regretting not being in Frank to feel that. He takes another couple breaths, then says, “I kinda gotta– Well, I don’t have to, but it sorta feels like I didn’t get to come at all if I don’t, and, uh.” His voice is all low and raspy, like his middle-of-the-night voice layered on top of his chain-smoking and a couple beers voice. It doesn’t really match the way he’s still clutching at Frank and fucking with his hair. “Two dicks, y’know?”
“Shit,” Frank hisses. “Shit. Twice? Like, bam,” he says, and snaps his fingers, “bam, twice?”
Gerard does this aborted head-duck thing where he ends up just flinging his sweaty hair out of his face and meeting Frank’s gaze straight on. Frank shudders, no fucking joke, the look is that fucking intense. “Yeah,” he says, and strokes a hand up the inside of Frank’s thigh. “I was trying not to, though, ’cause you wanted like, both, but I guess I fucked that up.”
“Fucked it up, what the fuck, fuck that shit,” Frank says in a rush. “Get that fucking rubber off.”
Gerard’s already peeling the used one off, then going for the second one when Frank flaps both hands at him even as he says, “What?” like he doesn’t understand what’s going on here.
“I’m gonna suck you,” Frank says, shuffling his way up to lean against the pillows mounded against the headboard. He squints one eye, sizing up the height difference, and slumps down so he’s all lined up. The tangled sheets are slightly damp from all the sweat and spilled lube and come when he pats them. “Get up here.”
“Oh Jesus,” Gerard says, tentacles zipping out to balance his weight against the wall as he straddles Frank’s legs and knees it up the bed. His hands go to Frank’s head, fingers tangle in his hair. “Like this, seriously?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m all like fucking blissed out here, man, you can do all the work.” That said, Frank’s still the one who cranes up to lick at Gerard’s cocks, thinking maybe he can tell which one already went off by how hard they are, but it turns out all he’s got to go on is the stronger taste of come clinging to one more than the other. He’s gonna have to ask Gerard how the fuck that works. As far as he can tell, Gerard’s nuts are standard issue, so maybe it’s in the plumbing. He curls a hand around the base of the one he doesn’t think has gone off yet, since it’s not like he’s got to steady it, puckers up and sucks as lewdly as he can on the tip. “Don’t think I can fit both, so you got a preference?” he asks, letting it bump off his lips as he talks. Gerard makes a strangled, gurgling noise that isn’t much of an answer. “This one good?”
“Yeah, yes,” Gerard says, his hands tightening on Frank’s head, a couple tentacles snapping down to snake over his shoulders and pull him closer. He lets them take his weight, slinging Gerard a quick grin before he licks his lips good and wet and opens wide. There’s a slight hiccup as he waits for Gerard to push in where all Gerard does is stare at him, and then Frank shrugs to himself, thinks, Whatever, dude, gotta go for it, and he goes for it, going down as fast and far as he can. It turns out to not be very far at all, ’cause fuck, Gerard’s got a lot of dick, never mind the whole double-feature thing. He eases off with a slurp, giggling a little, because duh, he knew that, they did this like, fifteen fucking minutes ago, and fits one hand around the dick he’s sucking and the other around the one he’s not. Why not, right? No point letting it get all lonely.
Gerard starts cursing again, this long, disjointed ramble broken up by Frank’s name and a whole bunch of please, yes, please, and the shockingly hot dirty stuff like, “Fuck, Frankie, my dick’s in your fucking mouth, I can see it, fuck, suck harder,” as he rests a tentacle against Frank’s cheek to feel the way the tip makes it bulge out for a minute before Frank squares up again and his cheeks hollow as he sucks. His hips are twitching like he wants to fuck but he’s holding back, like no matter how much he wants to get off he wants to know what Frank’s gonna do next, and next, and then next. An accidental scrape of teeth makes him buck, a flutter of tongue along the ridge makes him shiver and shake and curse really awesomely, and when Frank goes down, really down, mouth and hand working in concert, Gerard curls over him like he can’t stay upright anymore, clutching and petting at his shoulders, his face, telling him it’s so fucking good, so amazing, so fucking incredible that he wants to do this. If Frank weren’t in the total cocksucking zone–and if it didn’t give him this dirty delicious thrill way down deep in his gut every time Gerard whispered how messed up and gorgeous Frank looks like this–he’d probably punch Gerard in the arm for saying that shit. Instead he just doubles up his efforts or something, paying serious attention to what makes Gerard choke and cry out, and it’s both a really long, long time and no time at all before Gerard’s tugging on his head trying to get him to pull up.
“Fuck off,” Frank says around his dick, which means it comes out more like a humming moan, but whatever. Gerard’s tugging changes tracks, less like he’s trying to haul Frank off and more like he’s gotta do something with his hands or he’s gonna go crazy. Frank stays right where he is, mouth and hand working fast, sharp breaths sucked in through his nose, and he’s so sure he’s ready for it when Gerard blows that of course he fucking isn’t. He jerks back, coughing awkwardly, and gets a splash across his cheek, but he dives straight back in, closing his lips tight and letting Gerard spill onto his tongue. There’s a hell of a lot more filling up his mouth than he thinks there should be, like maybe Gerard jizzes extra too. He manages to swallow a bunch but there’s still more on the way, so he cups his hand under his mouth and sorta spit-dribbles into his palm without letting Gerard’s dick slip free. When it seems like Gerard’s finally done, Frank gives the tip a quick closed-mouth peck, spits for real into his palm, then looks around for a minute before shrugging and wiping it in the destroyed sheets. Gotta be washed anyway.
Gerard’s still up there on his knees, swaying slightly, looking totally floored. “Hey,” Frank says, tugging at his hips, “shimmy on down here.” When Gerard makes like he’s gonna topple off to the side, Frank tugs harder, twisting and shuffling until Gerard reverses direction and flops down on top of him. An eager thrill swoops through Frank’s gut at the press of Gerard’s dicks against his thigh. Gerard never needs to wear pants again. Unless he has to leave the room. Which, hey, there’s an idea; Gerard never needs to leave this bed. “That was fucking awesome.”
There’s a couple more minutes of uncoordinated wriggling and shuffling until Gerard’s comfortable, arms and legs and tentacles all tucked in securely around Frank. “It was,” he agrees drowsily, face mushed into the crook of Frank’s neck. “You’re pretty fucking awesome, Frankie.”
Everywhere Frank looks, there’s a whole lot of bare, sticky pale skin. The curve of Gerard’s thigh right before it becomes his ass is seriously gorgeous. Frank puts his hand there because he can. Gerard pushes into it like a cat, then settles back down again. Naked, Frank thinks gleefully. They’re not having distractingly hot sex anymore, Gerard is still totally naked, and he’s not trying to hide a thing. Frank busts out with a crazy stupid, “I love you,” before he stops to think about how it’s maybe sleazy timing.
But all Gerard does give a happy, sleepy wiggle, a couple of his tentacles veering off in different directions as they lazily stroke Frank’s skin.
“You owe me like so many orgasms,” Frank says, buoyed. “I mean, like, your orgasms. You owe me like a fucking shitload of those.”
Gerard slurs, “‘Kay,” all agreeably as he burrows closer. “Just gimme a few.”
“Sure, Gee,” Frank says, grinning at the ceiling. “Sure.”