Gerard Way/Frank Iero. NC-17. ~6200 words. Puppyplay.
Gerard arfs in agreement before he grins up at Frank. “Pet me, motherfucker, I’m a good dog.”
“A little one,” Frank says, holding his hands about a foot apart. “Popcorn-sized.”
Braced against the roll of the bus as it turns onto the freeway, Ray folds his arms and frowns. “No. Not on the bus.”
“Dude, man, I know, fucking thing already reeks. I mean at the venue.” Frank inches his hands closer together. “Like, this big?”
“Frank,” Ray sighs, “we’re not putting puppies on the rider.”
“One. Singular. One puppy. Oh, oh!” Frank snaps his fingers. “We could borrow one from the local crew.”
Clearly not grasping the depth of Frank’s genius, Ray frowns harder. “No way am I facilitating you kidnapping somebody’s dog.”
“I wouldn’t keep him!”
“You totally would,” Gerard butts in, banging out of the tiny bathroom into the tinier hall with his jeans still halfway down his ass. “You’d make a big show about how reluctant you are to let him go, put it off until the last possible minute, then stuff him in your hoodie the second our backs are turned.”
Only if the owner’s a douchebag. “Would not,” Frank grumbles.
“We’d get sued,” Gerard goes on, already deep in this hypothetical, totally-wouldn’t-happen scenario. “Fans would rally the animal rights groups to help keep you out of jail. Then the SPCA would try to get involved and the whole band would be dragged into a crusade against puppy farms.” He shakes his head sadly. “Face it, Frankie, if you wanna snuggle, you’re gonna have to stick to us.”
“It’s just better this way,” says Ray, and places a steadying hand on Frank’s shoulder. “And on the bright side, Gerard’s already toilet trained.”
Frank gives the bathroom a quick glance. “Mostly, anyway.”
“Fuck you,” Gerard grunts, yanking roughly at his zipper, “aiming on a moving vehicle is tough. At least I put the seat up.”
“Sit and tuck and you wouldn’t have to,” Frank points out.
“But then my dick touches the bowl!”
Frank is totally unimpressed. “So scoot back, princess.”
“It’s really not that big,” Ray says doubtfully.
Gerard’s mouth drops open. His eyes go huge. Frank bites his lip really, really hard to keep from laughing. “Fuck you,” Gerard shouts, “I was on your side!”
“I meant for scooting!” Ray says, making weird gestures with his hands that’s apparently supposed to help his case. “The toilet bowl isn’t that big! For scooting!”
“Too late!” Frank crows, arms in the air. “Puppies, here I come!”
“Frank, god damn it, no puppies on tour!”
“He can have all the goddamn puppies he wants!” Gerard shouts, his cheeks a red almost as bright as his hair, round and high with the grin that’s trying to break through, “I’ll be his fucking puppy and piss in your fucking shoes!”
“Yeah!” Frank’s giggling like crazy, stumbling against the wall as the bus takes another one of those hard lefts. “Sic ‘em, boy!”
With a warbling howl, Gerard launches himself at Ray. Frank’s laughing too hard to register more than flailing limbs, the thud-thud-thump as they bounce off the walls, and a glimpse or two of Gerard’s grinning face as Ray yells, “No, bad, bad Gerard, down!” and then Gerard’s settled on his haunches on the floor, hands planted between his spread knees, barking a contented, “Arf,” as Ray beats a hasty retreat to the lounge.
“And don’t you come back!” Frank yells after him, shaking a fist.
Gerard arfs again in agreement before he grins up at Frank. “Pet me, motherfucker, I’m a good dog.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Frank says, and starts trying to pick out the wildest tangle of his hair. “He’s gonna obsessively read everything for the next week making sure I haven’t snuck in a puppy clause.”
Wincing away from a sharp tug, Gerard says, “I said pet me, not groom me.”
“Good dogs sit still, y’know.”
Rising up on his knees, Gerard paws at Frank’s thigh. He butts his head under Frank’s hand and makes this sad little arooo noise like a pup denied treats. Frank’s heart clenches. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, digging his fingers into Gerard’s sticky, show-sweaty hair to scratch at his scalp. “There, better?”
Gerard paws harder at Frank’s thigh. “Fine, fine,” Frank says, and brings both hands into play, rubbing behind Gerard’s ears, up through his hair, back down again to give his neck a comforting squeeze. He lets out a satisfied whuff, leaning heavier against Frank’s legs, his ass wiggling a bit like it would if he had a tail to thump.
“Totally fucking ridiculous,” Frank tells him.
Gerard’s mouth opens on an indrawn breath. He pauses, then whuffs again, quietly, pushing his head harder into Frank’s hands. He’s still grinning when Frank hunkers down beside him, but it’s softer around the edges, happy. He darts in, fast, and licks a long, sloppy swipe right over Frank’s mouth.
“Oh Jesus,” Frank sputters, and Gerard comes in again, tongue-first. He’s panting a little as he does it, hot puff-puffs against Frank’s face with traces of giggles mixed in, his hands on Frank’s shoulders with all his weight behind it bearing Frank into the wall. That’s familiar, like how his breath smells like over-sweetened coffee, but these aren’t any sort of kisses they’ve shared before, not even the messiest, sloppiest ones high on show adrenaline and groping hands, and Frank can’t quit laughing long enough to push him off. “Stop, fuck, knock it off,” he tries, worming a hand in to scrub at his face. “Gee! Bad!” Flipping his hand around, he covers Gerard’s mouth with his palm and shoves. “Bad!”
Gerard tumbles back, giggling for real now, bouncing a little on his haunches before he settles down. He’s still grinning when he thumps his hands down on the floor and bounces again, and okay, Jesus, it really is fucking ridiculous, his t-shirt all rucked up and his jeans falling off his ass, but it’s totally fucking adorable, too. It’s pretty damn easy to picture him perking up a pair of floppy ears in hope.
“You wanna play, huh?” Frank asks, feeling vaguely like a tool until Gerard goes, “Arf!” then screws his mouth up, brow furrowed. The next sound out of him is more like an actual bark, high-pitched and sharp. He does it again, louder, chest all puffed up with pride.
“You realise this is weird, right? Like, on a scale of one to us, it’s definitely weird.” Not weird enough to stop Frank from scratching behind Gerard’s ears again. Or from dragging him close to rub noses with him, wondering if Gerard’s gonna be done playing soon so he can get some real kisses out of this. It’s been awhile. “You’re kinda cute for a mutt. Y’know, if I squint.”
Tiny, wickedly-sharp teeth dig into the meat of Frank’s palm. Frank yelps and yanks his hand back. “Motherfucker,” he says, startled into laughing again as Gerard growls and lunges after him, “that fucking hurt. No, no biting, no!” He scrambles to his feet, blocking Gerard with his leg, and the fucker totally goes right for his kneecap. The best Gerard can do through his jeans is gnaw, but that’s pretty fucking hilarious and it kinda tickles, and in the next second, Frank’s flat on his ass with Gerard clambering on top of him. The whole face-licking nuzzling thing starts up again, Gerard gets spit in his fucking nose, gross, and that’s where Mikey finds them.
“This is totally not weird,” Frank says, swiping at his cheek.
Mikey pats Gerard absently on the head on his way into his bunk. “Atta boy. Get ‘em.”
Gerard’s hands thump down on Frank’s chest. Frank’s grunt is lost beneath his bark.
“So, like, is this one of those things you do but never told me you do?” Frank asks, blinking warily. It doesn’t seem like the kinda thing Gerard would get up to–tackling people to the ground is really more Frank’s thing–but Gee was pretty quick to get into it. Tongue-first. He’s learning new shit about himself every day, and no way is he gonna assume he knows everything there is to know about Gee, so if this is gonna be a thing, he wants to be prepared. “Not that I’m gonna judge. Just, y’know. If it’s a thing.”
Gerard rolls his eyes and snorts, but his face has that earnest thing going on beneath the red tangle of his hair, the one Frank can always hear in his voice even when there’s a whole country between them. He leans in close and whuffs against Frank’s cheek, bumping it with the tiny point of his nose.
“Okay,” Frank says, right before Gerard starts in on the puppy kisses again, except this time it’s little tiny flicks of his tongue, not the great slobbering mess he made before. Not really a thing-thing, then. Kinda a new thing. He can work with that. He squeezes the back of Gee’s neck. “Wanna go cuddle on the couch?”
Frank takes the quiet whuff against his throat to mean yes, and the teeth tugging at the collar of his shirt to mean hurry the fuck up. “Easy, easy,” Frank says, awkwardly climbing to his feet in the cramped space with Gerard still on all fours, all up in his shit. Frank’s grin is definitely huge and possibly a little shit-eating as they make their way to the lounge, Gerard crawling along behind him. He flops on the couch and pats his lap, and wonders for a split-second if the tight bunch of Gerard’s shoulders means he’s gonna try something stupid like fucking jumping on him, but Gee manages a nice, sedate climb up, flopping down on Frank’s thighs with a huff. It’s pretty impressive. Frank rubs his ear as a reward.
“If he barks on stage tomorrow, I’m blaming you,” Ray says from the kitchenette.
Frank grins down at the back of Gee’s head. If he doesn’t do it, Frank’s definitely gonna. He spends a couple minutes trying to decide if barking or a howling would be more fun, settles on going with whatever mood strikes at the time, then hunts around one-handed for the remote. Gerard’s getting heavier and heavier, his hands tucked up under his cheek, body twitching every now and then like he’s falling asleep but doesn’t want to. It’s so much like when Sweet Pea dreams on his lap, Frank doesn’t think before he’s stroking Gerard’s tummy, soothing him the same way he would her. Once he figures out what he’s doing, he hesitates.
Gerard stirs, rubbing his face against Frank’s jeans. He bites a little at Frank’s thigh again, paws a bit, and yeah, okay. It has been awhile, a long while, but Frank can take a hint. Gerard settles down when he goes back to rubbing, edging under Gerard’s t-shirt to lightly scratch through the hair low on his belly. He doesn’t stop this time until Gerard’s breaths are deep and even.
It’s quiet and still when Frank wakes. He blinks into the darkness and listens to the steady thrum of the road going by beneath them. He’s got a kink in his neck and his leg’s gone numb, but that’s not what woke him.
“It was nice,” Gerard says, a shadow in the dark.
Frank’s voice is gravelly with sleep when he says, “You drooled in my nose.”
The tilt of Gerard’s head and the slant of his shoulders tells Frank he’s smiling long before Frank hears it in his voice. “That part was fun. Your puppies are pretty lucky.” His breaths are hot, high on Frank’s thigh.
“Yeah,” Frank says, combing hair out of Gee’s face, tucking it behind an ear. He runs his fingertips along the delicate shell, the soft, unscarred skin of the lobe. He’s not sure what he’s doing, just that he wants to touch. It’s warm and close and dark in the lounge, reminding him of long summer nights on the road in the back of the van, crammed together, skin sticky with dirt and sweat and not minding it at all, revelling in it, in doing this, together. “I miss it, sometimes.”
“Anytime you feel the need to spoil somebody rotten, I’m right here,” Gerard says. “Get me one of those coffee-flavoured granola bars and I’ll even play fetch.”
The gears in Frank’s brain grind trying to make the connection there, and then he remembers he didn’t actually say any of that out loud until the last part. He traces the shell of Gerard’s ear again and again, wondering if he’s gonna say it. Gee’ll want to talk about it if he does. And while Frank’s got no problems talking about who they were and how in a lot of ways they’re those same people still, Frank’s enjoying Gerard laid out all heavy and relaxed like he rarely is, even now.
Gerard’s shoulder scrunches. “Tickles,” he says.
Frank looks down at where his thumb is stroking the stubbly curve of Gerard’s jaw. He says, “Let’s go to bed.”
“Yeah?” Gerard says, twisting partway around. His eyelashes catch a sliver of light that ekes through the blinds. This is big, maybe. This is one of those things that never changes, even when it probably should.
But it’s them, too, and Frank says, “Yeah,” as he bends down to kiss his soft, upturned mouth. Gerard makes a quiet sound, kinda like the puppy noises he was making, but Frank’s not thinking about that. All he’s thinking about is how he’s missed Gerard’s taste, different now without the cigarettes to go with the coffee, and the warmth of Gerard’s shallow breaths on his cheek. His back starts to twinge long before he’s done. “Gettin’ old,” he grumbles, licking at the damp corner of Gee’s mouth.
Gerard sniggers. “C’mon, gramps,” he says, getting stiffly to his feet. “Let’s go make out like teenagers in my bunk.”
“We’re gonna fall asleep before we get our junk out.” Frank grabs onto Gerard’s jeans to haul himself up, almost sending them tumbling back down.
Bracing his feet to give Frank a hand up, Gerard says, “Y’know, I think I might’ve jerked off to that before. Imagining just, like, holding your dick. Not even jacking you or anything.” He scratches his head and yawns. “Weird.”
“Hot,” Frank says, and he’s joking, obviously, but somewhere between hauling their clothes off and trading lazy, comfortable kisses, Gerard’s hand ends up in his shorts, curled loosely around the boner he could and should absolutely put to good use. Frank pushes a little, trying to make something of it. Gerard grins against his mouth and kisses him again, and again, and the second time Frank wakes up, he’s tucked in the curve of Gerard’s body with Gerard’s hand still on his junk.
“Totally weird,” Frank mumbles, and goes back to sleep.
The next night, Gerard intros House of Wolves with a long, dramatic howl. The crowd goes fucking nuts, howling back twice as loud, as Frank stumbles up to smash his cheek against Gerard’s and join in. And when Gerard shouts, “Now scream!” Frank screams his throat raw. It feels good, it feels great, he can’t stop talking about it on the ride to the hotel or in the elevator or even as Gerard grabs onto the front of his sweat-soaked shirt and hauls him bodily into their room.
“I wanna,” Gerard says, and gives Frank a kiss, quick and surprisingly chaste. “I wanna– Frank, Frank, hang on.”
Already reaching to drag him in again, Frank pauses. He gives himself a shake like a dog shedding water, and tries to focus. He’s pumped from the show, flying high, so he forgives himself for not noticing right away that Gerard’s not right up there with him. “Yeah, Gee, what,” he scrubs both hands over his face, trying to dial it down, “what is it?”
“Last night,” Gerard says, and stops. He jerks his chin at the floor, smile kinda shy and rueful. “D’you wanna, like, again?”
“You, uh.” Frank swallows a breath. He’s half-hard in his jeans, and that’s so not helping him think. Neither is the strange swooping clench of his gut. “You wanna play?”
“Yeah,” Gerard breathes, shrugging out of his shirt and falling to his knees in one really fucking amazing smooth glide. All that sudden, bare skin sends a confusing jolt to Frank’s cock. “Yeah, I really do. It was, it was good, Frankie.”
So was the part where they made out in Gerard’s bunk, but it looks like that’s not on the menu tonight. “Sure,” Frank says, easy-peasy, and uses the couple seconds it takes to kick off his sneakers and whip off his belt to change channels. It’s not like Gee will mind if he rubs one out in the shower later. “Take off your boots, man.”
Leaning forward on his hands, Gee struggles out of his boots, then settles back on his haunches, waiting. Turns out Frank needs another minute or two to get with the program, so he hauls their bags away from the door, flicks on the lamp by the bed and off the overhead light. It was way easier falling into this without a semi gumming up the works.
“Okay,” he finally says, and makes himself think about how Gerard sitting there patiently could be like a pup waiting for permission. If he’s gonna do this, he’s gonna do it right. He sits on the edge of the bed and pats his legs. “C’mere, boy.”
The grin Gerard flashes him then is the same one he gets in the studio sometimes, grateful and eager. He trots on over to sit between Frank’s spread legs–Frank sternly tells his dick to not get excited or anything here–and waits for a second invitation before he kneels up, palms planted firmly on Frank’s thighs, fingers curled in a little like paws. He bites his lip like he’s trying to hold back nervous laughter before he lets out this noise that’s half a bark, half a puff of breath, an honest-to-god woof.
“You so practiced that, didn’t you,” Frank says, because if Gerard’s gonna go non-verbal, Frank’s apparently gonna pick up the slack. “Pretty good, too. Gonna do it again for me?”
When all Gerard does is look at him, it’s kinda weird. Doing this shit deliberately definitely isn’t the same.
“C’mon,” Frank says, pushing his fingers behind Gerard’s ear, rubbing at the soft skin there. “Treats don’t come for free, man. Gotta work for it.” This time, Gerard paws at his thigh, and yeah, that’s easier. “Say please,” he prompts, and starts digging through his pocket for the what’s left of the granola bar he ended up craving. It’s not coffee-flavoured, but Gerard’s always swiping the maple-nut ones from Frank’s bunk, so it should do. He breaks off a piece and holds it up.
Gerard looks at him, the bar clenched tight in one hand, and finally the tiny piece on offer. He darts in like he’s gonna snatch it from Frank’s fingers.
“Ah, no,” Frank says, snapping it back. “I thought you were a good boy? Say please first!” Gerard eyeballs the treat and gives a quiet whuff. “Please,” Frank prompts, dragging it out.
This time Gerard barks, good and loud. “Yes!” Frank crows, and tosses the rest of the bar behind him so he can pet Gee properly. He holds the chunk out in his hand. “Good, good boy, here, there you go.”
With another bark, Gerard dives in, tonguing it off Frank’s palm and chomping through it while he noses around, looking for more crumbs. “Okay, okay,” Frank says, groping for the bar. “Just a little bit more, but only because I’m a sucker for a cute face.”
That gets him a growl and a playful dig of teeth. “No biting,” Frank warns, but Gerard’s already eased up, back to nuzzling at Frank’s palm like he wants more. Frank’s about to give it to him, too, because he is a sucker, and one extra treat won’t turn Gerard into a roly-poly pup. There’s barely any plump left to his middle at all these days. But Gerard’s snuffling moves from his hand to his thigh before he can snap off another piece, and then Gerard’s digging lower, looking for crumbs, nosing at the seam of his jeans and up and whoa.
“Hey, wow,” Frank says, a hand on Gerard’s shoulder to put a stop to that shit. It was just getting to the point where his dick wasn’t involved, damn it. Gerard just turns and starts nosing at the crook of his elbow, licking a little. “That’s maybe somewhere you don’t wanna go, buddy. Okay?”
Gerard backs off a bit, looking confused as he paws at Frank’s leg. He makes like he’s gonna nose in again, then sits right back on his haunches and whines.
“Oh, shit.” This is for sure one of those things they should talk about. Frank should call a time-out right the fuck now. He knows Gerard’s safe word, not because their sex life gets freaky but because of this one time where they were all sitting around joking about them, and Gerard was like, ‘I have one!’ If he trots it out now, he knows Gee’ll listen. Not that this puppy thing is exactly his idea of safe-word-worthy freaky, it’s just, with it on the table, Frank wasn’t expecting Gerard’s face in his crotch.
“Wait, wait,” Frank says when Gee paws at the carpet again, whining low in his throat. “Lemme catch up, here.” He doesn’t like the look of genuine distress on Gerard’s face, and sure, yeah, Gee could fucking talk if he had to, but Frank gets the feeling he really doesn’t want to break out his words right now. Frank closes his legs so Gerard doesn’t get the wrong idea and says, “It’s okay, c’mere. C’mon back,” while patting his thigh. Gerard edges in uncertainly. “Yeah, that’s it,” he encourages, “we’re just gonna hang out a minute, there you go, right there.”
He’s thinking hard as he pets at Gerard’s hair. Mostly all he’s thinking is holy shit, what, okay, what? so it’s not exactly helpful. Though he’s not really sure why he’s gotta think, either. It’s not like he wasn’t all systems go for nudity and fun times ten minutes ago. And it’s not like he didn’t know this shit could be sexual, but last night had been playing and cuddling, and he’d been all set up for the PG-13 sequel, not the late-night HBO special.
Gerard noses tentatively at his thigh one more time at the exact moment Frank’s brain clicks over to naked playing and cuddling. Which is probably what Gerard had meant. And… doesn’t sound half-bad. They probably could’ve gotten there a lot sooner if he’d asked some fucking questions before Gerard got on his knees.
In his defense, though: Gerard on his knees.
“You gotta show me what you want,” Frank says, smoothing Gee’s hair back and tilting his head up, making sure he’s paying attention. He asks, “Treat?” which gets him a tiny butt-wriggle, then, “Play?” which gets him an excited yip. He grins. “You wanna play up here? Wanna get up here with me? Or you wanna roll around on the floor, you crazy shit?”
Growling, Gerard gets a good toothy grip on Frank’s jeans and tugs. “Okay, okay,” Frank laughs, mostly normal-sounding even with his stomach doing backflips, and pushes Gee back far enough so he can slide down. “Don’t tear ‘em off me, here, c’mon– oof.”
Perched on top of him, heavy as fuck, Gerard barks and wiggles. He thumps his palms down hard on Frank’s chest and scrambles back, bouncing. He barks again and sticks his tongue out, but not like, out, more his mouth is open slightly and his tongue is soft against his bottom lip and wow. It’s silly, but it’s fucking hot, too. Like a lot of the shit Gerard pulls on stage.
“Oh, now you’re gonna get it,” Frank says, shoving up, “you are so gonna get it,” and he lunges forward, catching Gerard in a tackle that knocks him flat on his ass. He gets a little lost when it’s all flailing hands and playful snarls instead of actual wrestling, Gerard’s sharp little teeth nipping at him anywhere they can reach. He sticks two fingers right in Gerard’s mouth like he does sometimes playing with Mama, ’cause she’s a total biter when she gets worked up, but where she knows that’s the cue to calm down, Gerard growls and gnaws and wriggles his tongue. He starts pawing at Frank’s belly at the same time, squirming around trying to get up. What Frank does next is a cheap, dirty move, but Gerard’s basically given him carte blanche on the dirty moves here if fellating his fingers is legal; he jams his free hand right into Gerard’s armpit and grinds.
Gerard jerks back with a howl. Before he gets too far, Frank rolls back on top of him, dancing his fingers all down Gerard’s sides before digging into his armpits again, tugging a little on the short, wiry hairs, and watching, totally mesmerized, as Gerard paws and kicks and howls and doesn’t even remotely try to stop him.
It doesn’t take long before Gerard’s out of breath, panting, sweat slicking his chest. His kicks aren’t much more than vague twitches. “Alright,” Frank says, soothing, rubbing his hand in tiny circles Gerard’s belly, “alright, easy. You’re the one who wanted to play, pal.”
Gerard gives a breathless yip and a rough squirm like he wants to go again. Arching an eyebrow, Frank skitters his fingers closer to the edges of his ribs. Gerard holds very, very still, gnawing on his lip, face scrunching up as Frank skims up his sides to tickle under his arms. He manages a good thirty seconds before he throws his head back and howls, all chopped up like choking on laughter, and starts to buck and writhe again, twisting so roughly beneath Frank that he ends up halfway on his belly, trapped. Pretty soon he’s wheezing like he can’t breathe at all. Frank doesn’t want to stop–this shit is great–but he doesn’t exactly want Gee to pass out, either. He gives the damp hairs in Gerard’s pits one last, rough little tug before he eases back, his palm pressed flat to the centre of Gerard’s bare back to feel it heave.
“Still with me?” he asks, stroking back Gerard’s tangled hair.
Gerard whines quietly and blinks open his eyes. His eyelashes are dark and clumped with tears, his mouth is soft and open as he breathes, his lips shining a wet, deep pink in the lamplight. Frank wants to kiss him so much it’s like a fist to the gut.
“Gee,” he starts.
The softness around Gerard’s eyes vanishes. He surges up, knocking Frank sideways, and rolls over fast, up on his knees with Frank caught beneath him before Frank’s got a chance to fucking blink. Then Gerard’s face is in his belly, all sharp, scraping teeth and the wet drag of his tongue, and he’s pawing at the carpet between Frank’s sprawled legs. He whines again, muffled, his body wedging Frank’s legs wider, his face so fucking close to Frank’s cock that for a second, Frank’s the one who can’t breathe.
Gerard whines again, like a question, like please, Frankie, please.
Sucking in a short, sharp breath, Frank says, “Okay,” before he thinks too hard about it. He reaches for Gerard’s hair to guide him, let him know what okay means, but Gerard’s already got his face shoved straight into Frank’s crotch, breathing hard and fast through his nose like he’s trying to fucking inhale Frank’s dick through his jeans. He’s nuzzling, panting, fuck, he’s right in there, his shoulder under Frank’s thigh, his breaths hot and fast and desperate, hands pawing uselessly at the carpet trying to get closer, at Frank’s jeans like he doesn’t remember how zippers work, or even what they are.
“Shit,” Frank rasps. He says, “Okay, okay,” more for him than for Gerard, and yanks open his belt, his jeans, shoving them awkwardly down. He hesitates at the hem of his shirt, not sure if he wants to go there, but fuck it, he already kinda did. He’s in this. He hauls it off while Gerard noses at his dick through his underwear, teeth catching and tugging on the cloth, on his pubes, making him hiss and twitch and finally shove those down, too. Gerard groans roughly, almost like a growl, and starts licking.
Licking. Great big messy swipes with the flat of his tongue, all over Frank’s junk. It’s warm and wet and sloppy and fucking unbelievable how good it feels. Frank’s had his dick buried deep in Gerard’s throat, clutching tight around him as Gerard struggled to swallow, this shouldn’t feel as good. His fucking toes shouldn’t be curling from the long, hard drag of Gerard’s tongue under his balls, but they are, and he’s scraping his heels against the floor, kicking his shoes off and struggling out of the tight trap of his jeans. Gerard sits back to watch, not helping, face and chest flushed as red as Frank’s feels, and the second Frank’s naked, really fucking naked, he’s back, face buried between Frank’s legs.
Frank says, “Jesus,” lips dry and cracked, and Gerard whuffs at him, whuffs on him, a quick jolt of heat on spit-wet skin. Gee keeps licking, less frantic now, more methodical, chasing down the salt flavouring Frank’s skin. He starts pawing at the inside of Frank’s thigh again, really obviously. Frank’s face flushes hotter. One more whine from Gerard, lost but still kinda hungry-sounding, is enough to make Frank grit his teeth and roll over, hiding his face in his folded arms as he spreads his legs. The carpet’s rough against his chest, his over-sensitized cock, and Gerard’s tongue is soft dragging up the crack of his ass, a slippery, too-shallow push to sink inside him. He’s shaking, gulping air, and Gerard keeps licking, nuzzling, teasing. Frank chokes back a whine of his own and shoves up to his knees, reaching for his slick cock.
Gerard gives an eager growl, a growl, for fuck’s sake, and clambers on top of him. He rocks under the extra weight, because Gerard’s not holding back at all here, and his jeans are gone too, shoved down to his thighs, rough against Frank’s as he plasters himself to Frank’s back, bare cock sliding easily in the slick crack of Frank’s ass. Frank freezes, staring at the divots his nails make in the carpet as Gerard bites at his shoulders, still growling, sniffing at his skin, shifting and settling and starting to rut, hard. Frank locks his elbow to try to stay up under the force of it, because there’s no way he’s letting go of his dick. He hangs his head and lets Gerard go, soaking up the heavy, sticky press of Gerard’s chest to his back, the scrape of Gerard’s nails as Gerard shoves up, fucks harder against him making these weird animal noises, tiny grunts and whimpers and desperate, panting breaths. It totally shouldn’t be getting Frank as worked up as it is. He always loved the dirty, endless spill of Gerard babbling him when they’re together like this, even when he was an ass and poked fun at him for it. But Gerard always smiled, always laughed, and kept talking.
“Gee,” Frank grits out, ’cause he’s got a feeling way down deep in his gut, and he’s gonna go with it, “Gee, c’mon, put it in me.”
Like he can’t hear, like he didn’t just fucking choke on a gasp, Gerard keeps going, grinding hard, bony hips digging into Frank’s ass.
“Gee,” Frank barks, packing as much authority into it as he can when he’s a sweaty, panting mess, and twists around just far enough to grab onto Gerard’s cock. For a second, he forgets what the fuck he was gonna say, because Gerard is hard, big and thick and leaking all over his fingers. He squeezes, making sure he’s got Gerard’s attention, and Gerard snarls at him. He grins back, crazily. “Don’t get all fuckin’ pissed at me you can’t learn a new trick.” It takes him a second get the head of Gerard’s cock where he wants it, doing it by feel alone. Gerard’s hips kick right when he nails it, skidding off-centre, and Frank says, “Easy, easy,” guiding him back to it, holding steady. Gerard’s shaking so hard he almost knocks Frank’s aim off again, but he digs his nails into Frank’s back, whines low in his throat, and manages to keep it together, barely.
“Good,” Frank says, his own voice shaky with nerves, with half-hysterical laughter. This isn’t the first time Frank’s taken it from Gerard, far fucking from it, but they’ve never done this before. Gerard’s either up there freaking out about prep, or he’s so deep into it, it’s taking everything he’s got not to shove forward again, bury his dick deep. Frank’s counting on the latter. Like hell he wants to pause here to dig up some lube. He’s wet enough, Gerard’s slick enough; neither one of them is gonna last, anyway. “Good,” he repeats, coaxing, words sticking in his throat only a little, “okay, c’mon, give it to me, there you go, good, good boy, oh fuck, fuck.”
The stretch is sharp, the burn immediate–Gee is so fucking big–and it’s perfect, it’s amazing, it has Frank hissing, “Yes, yes, come on,” over and over until Gerard’s control snaps. He shoves in the last little bit hard and fast, pushing a gasp out of Frank’s throat, and then he stays there, as deep as he can go, and grinds. All his weight drops at once onto Frank’s back, sending Frank’s hands and knees skidding out from underneath him, and Gerard rides him down, making those noises again, greedy and grateful, right into his ear. Frank tries to catch his breath through how full he feels, tries to get ready for when Gerard rears back to fuck into him for real, but Gee keeps going like that, sharp, shallow almost-thrusts, so deep Frank’s choking on it. It’s almost too much and it’s so not enough, he’s gonna get carpet burn on his fucking dick, and his mouth’s running totally independently of his brain, “S’good, fuck, Gee, you’re good, so fucking good, fuck me, c’mon and fuck me,” spilling out of him even when his lungs are screaming for him to stop, stop and fucking breathe.
And Gerard keeps going, teeth dug into Frank’s shoulder like he’s making sure Frank stays down, a mindless, driving rhythm totally unlike anything he’s ever done before. Like all he wants is Frank writhing beneath him, all he needs is to come, and he’s going for it, pushing and shoving and clawing, and fuck if Frank isn’t gonna lose it first. He grunts out some kind of warning that Gerard acknowledges by biting hard at the back of his neck, and that’s it, he’s done, trapped beneath Gerard’s sweaty weight, rubbing off on the carpet, coming all over it, the best fucking orgasm he’s had in weeks.
By the time he surfaces on the other side, Gerard’s already losing it. He inhales sharply and shakes off the lingering haze, focusing hard on the sounds caught low in Gerard’s throat, the way he’s trembling, shaking, clinging to Frank’s back, hips working like he can’t help trying to get deeper inside when he’s already so close Frank can feel the tension singing through his every muscle, even how tight his fucking balls are. He collapses in the next moment, his rough, panting breaths hot-cool-hot on Frank’s shoulder, his hair tickling Frank’s cheek.
“Good boy,” Frank rasps, grinning.
Gerard huffs and nips at his shoulder. Frank grins harder, closing his eyes, content for now to wait for Gerard to pull himself back together enough to pull out. It’s not like they’re twenty anymore, and that was some pretty intense shit. After a minute or two, long enough for Frank to really start to notice the giant wet spot he’s flaked out in, Gerard starts shifting around up there.
“Motherfucker,” Frank says, “get your dick out of my ass.”
“Can’t,” Gerard mumbles.
Frank gives him twenty seconds for a follow-up. When none is forthcoming, he starts struggling up onto his elbows. Gerard might be more fit these days, but fuck, the guy is solid. Frank gets a little distracted cataloguing the differences he can pick out by feel alone, and he’s pretty sure the game’s over, so he’s totally not expecting it when Gerard growls and bites his fucking arm.
“Bitches stay down when they’re all plugged up,” Gerard says.
Frank gapes at nothing. He didn’t.
“Yeah,” Gerard goes on, kinda absent-sounding, like he’s talking to himself, but his voice is wobbling like he’s trying not to crack up, “s’right, there’s a good bitch.”
“Oh fuck you,” Frank says, and now he’s laughing, dragging Gerard into it with him, because Gerard’s crazy, they’re both fucking crazy, and he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to deal with how fucking amazing that shit was so he’s just gonna go with it, “you better drag your bitch to bed, Lassie, ’cause I’m fucking wiped.”
Gerard grins, and barks.