Gerard Way/Frank Iero. NC-17. ~4500 words. Established relationship, watersports.
“If you tickle me, I’ll piss on you.”
Frank says, “Kinky.”
Frank is drooling in Gerard’s armpit. His mouth is all mushed to the side so it’s just sorta leaking out, getting stuck in all the tiny hairs, wet and slimy and actually kinda gross. Gerard has to turn his face away to grin ridiculously into a pillow (stained with cherry-red dye, oops; housekeeping’s gonna have his ass for that one), like he’s gotta hide it from Frank so it doesn’t wake him up or something. For a dude so fucking fixated on cleanliness that he’s got a backup pack of soap for his backup pack, he’s a total dog when he’s sleeping. Seriously, Gerard’s lost count of the number of times Frank’s rolled over and farted on him. And fuck, man, he can fucking stink. Gerard doesn’t give a shit what Frank says, it’s gotta be the tofu.
So maybe Frank’s subconsciously trying to make up for it during his waking hours. He takes a short snuffling breath and nuzzles in closer, smearing drool all over his cheek and making Gerard squeeze his eyes shut and grin harder.
The light from outside barely makes it past the edges of the hotel’s thick curtains, but it’s at least past noon if Gerard’s awake. He scratches at his tangled hair and then his belly, thinking about dislodging Frank to get up and take a leak and find some coffee. They’re off today, and tomorrow’s a driving day. It still sounds like way too much work. If he holds out for like ten more minutes, Frank’ll wake up on his own and offer to go get it.
“Mmph,” Frank says in obvious agreement, and wipes his wet cheek off on Gerard’s biceps. His eyelids flicker a couple times before he manages to get them to stay open, and when his gaze finds Gerard’s, it’s got this dazed warmth to it like he’s in the middle of a really good dream.
“Morning,” Gerard says pleasantly as Frank’s eyes drift shut again. His arm is going to sleep where it’s pinned by Frank’s weight, but he manages to wriggle it around enough to sloppily pet at Frank’s hair curling around his ear. T-minus eight minutes to coffee. His life is fucking awesome.
Frank breathes slowly and quietly for another couple minutes, then says, “You stink.”
“Face, armpit,” Gerard replies. “Drool.”
Briefly cracking one eye open, Frank sizes up where his face is stuck. He hikes up an eyebrow like a shrug. “Been worse places.”
“Which you don’t complain about,” Gerard points out.
“Yeah,” Frank agrees, his voice slow and sleepy, “’cause usually I’m about to fuck it.”
Gerard squints. It’s pretty easy to imagine a position that could work in. “I bet there are tons of axillaephiles out there. Never be ashamed of what you love.”
Frank’s face scrunches up. “Freak,” he says, sounding impressed and disgusted all at once, “not gonna fuck your fucking armpit, Jesus,” and he buries his face right in there, giggling.
“Lick it,” Gerard drawls, grabbing onto his rubbery arm to trap Frank in a headlock. “I know you want to. Don’t deprive yourself, Frankie, I accept you for who– ow, motherfucker, ow!”
Eyebrows waggling, Frank tongues at the corner of his toothy grin. “Accept that,” he says.
There are fucking tooth marks in Gerard’s arm. “Fucker.” Gathering up the edge of the blankets, he rolls decisively over onto his side. Cool air taking Frank’s place brings a shivery rush of goosebumps, and the warmth that follows when Frank presses against his back and kisses his neck brings another. “First you drool on me, then you fucking bite me.”
“You rubbed your stinky pit all over my face,” Frank says, nosing at his shoulder. When Gerard hunches down deeper into the blankets, he gets a warning scrape of teeth. “I was gonna blow you, y’know.”
“So blow me,” Gerard says, stubbornly ignoring the line of soft little kisses pressed along his back. He sucks in a sharper breath when Frank starts adding licks, skipping from spine to shoulder and swerving dangerously close to somewhere really ticklish. He scrunches up harder, arm clamped tight to his side to protect his vulnerable parts, but even while he’s prepped for the worst he’s totally not expecting Frank to stick his fucking tongue right in his fucking armpit and wiggle it.
He yelps and kicks and Frank cracks up like a fucking maniac. “Tastes like ass,” Frank says, getting a good grip on Gerard’s elbow and pinning it to the crumpled pillows. One leg gets flung across Gerard’s hips to help hold him down when he bucks. “You said lick it. Deal with the consequences.”
“I gotta pee,” Gerard tries, gulping air and eyeballing the slow-motion creep of Frank’s fingers toward his armpit.
“If you tickle me, I’ll piss on you.”
Frank says, “Kinky,” jams his fingers into Gerard’s armpit and holds on like a fucking lemur as Gerard twists and howls and cries, “Frank, no, I gotta piss, no, no– Frankie!”
Dragging blunt nails down Gerard’s side, Frank says, “Mm?” his laugh weirdly dark when Gerard flinches and gasps.
“Don’t,” Gerard grunts, curled in tightly on himself. His lungs are burning and his skin is buzzing in a seriously strange way, and he actually does have to piss now. Bad.
There’s a pause, then Frank scoots in closer, chin propped up on Gerard’s shoulder. “Does that mean don’t fucking tickle me as in please hold me down and tickle me, or, like, don’t fucking tickle me, motherfucker? Because we have a safeword for that shit.”
Gerard blinks his eyes open and stares at a corner of the bright white sheet he’s tangled up in. He licks his lips slowly. “Don’t,” he says, and tenses up as Frank’s fingers graze his belly. They come back again, like a question, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me piss the fucking bed.”
For a second, Frank hesitates like he doesn’t get it, then his grin is pressed hard to Gerard’s shoulder and his fingers fan out over Gerard’s side, sweeping slowly upward. Gerard bites hard on his lip and doesn’t move. Even when his skin starts to crawl and he’s this fucking close to tasting blood, he doesn’t move.
“How long d’you think you’re gonna make it?” Frank asks, soft and quiet and like he isn’t holding Gerard’s arm pinned above his head, fingers sketching insidious little circles closer and closer to his armpit. Like all he means is how long before Gerard gives up and starts howling. They’re pressed tight together at the hip, Frank’s hard cock leaking hot through his briefs. Gerard always does better when he’s got something immediate to focus on, so that should make it easier, but it doesn’t. “C’mon, babe. Just one little squirm for me and I’ll stop.”
“You won’t,” Gerard gasps, a sharp thrill arrowing through his belly. Frank makes an inquisitive noise, hips rocking slowly. “Not gonna stop,” he says, pushing the words out through the hard clench of his teeth. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Frank agrees, “probably not,” and shoves up on his knees to tickle Gerard for real. Gerard swears and twists away hard, not getting far before Frank’s on top of him, holding him down, biting at his throat while keeping everything else fiendishly fucking light, fingers digging into Gerard’s armpits skirting the edge but never flipping over to straight up pain. Sweat breaks out all over Gerard, slick and sticky where they’re pressed together, Frank riding the buck of his body like they’re fucking, trash-talking like they are too, “Looks like you’re gonna fucking lose it, Gee,” cut-glass sharp and sweet, “So fucking hot, makes me wanna just, fuck, I just wanna fucking come all over you.”
Gerard wheezes, “Sure,” through ragged gasps, totally on board with Frank getting off whenever as long as Frank doesn’t fucking want him to do anything except squirm around and struggle to breathe. He’s turned on in a really neat distant way, like his dick’s hard and he can feel the urge to rub it on something, but not in the way where it’s more immediate than what Frank’s doing to him, or where he wants to come. Every time he curls in on reflex to try to get a break, the fullness of his bladder sends up a warning shot, like a literal warning shot where he actually fucking leaks a little, and he stretches out fast to keep from losing it in a totally different way than Frank’s expecting.
Frank keeps talking, which is fucking hilarious since he claims Gerard’s the one who never shuts up when he’s getting laid–or like, ever–and his hands are everywhere. Fucking everywhere. One touch blends into the next, and the next, and it’s only when Frank’s hand splays wide over Gerard’s belly and presses in that he figures out Frank knows exactly what the fuck is going on here.
“Wait,” Gerard chokes out, flailing at Frank’s arm. “Wait, fuck, I’m gonna–”
“In the fucking bed,” Frank says in a dark, delighted purr, and presses harder.
“What– What the fuck,” Gerard grunts, twisting violently away. He rolls halfway onto his side, panting shallowly and grabbing at his dick. He’s not gonna piss. He’s too hard to piss, but fuck, it felt like Frank was gonna squeeze it out of him anyway. “Shit, Frankie.”
Frank’s hand stokes gently down Gerard’s sweaty back. “Yeah,” he says, still sounding kinda edgy, dangerous. “You look so fucked, Gee. It’s fucking hot.” His breath is warm on Gerard’s arm as he leans in closer, fingertips trailing lightly over Gerard’s hip to his stomach. He says, “I wanna see you do it,” like it’s a surprise to him. A really fucking good one.
“We’re in a fucking hotel,” Gerard says, his pulse kicking as Frank’s hand slips into the hollow of his thigh.
Gerard glances over his shoulder. Frank’s looking pretty fucked himself, lips shiny wet and parted, gaze heavy as he watches his hand settle on Gerard’s belly again. It’s not like he’s asking permission, more like he’s waiting for Gerard to give in, let him push harder until he fucks Gerard up enough to make him lose it. “You really wanna?” Gerard asks, using the pillow to scrub hair out of his sweaty face.
Frank barely looks up. “I really do,” he says, in that same wondering tone. “I didn’t fucking plan it, babe, I just.” He stops, shifts so his hard dick is tight up against Gerard, and huffs a laugh. “See?”
“Yeah,” Gerard croaks. He swallows a couples times and breathes. It’s no good pretending he isn’t gonna let Frankie do it. “Stand up.”
Elbowing him in the stomach until he looks up, Gerard tells him, “Go, stand up. I’m gonna– Shit, Frankie.”
Dragging his ass off the bed, Frank backs up a couple steps and stops again, watching. He’s got his hand on his dick through his pyjamas like he can’t help it, and Gerard groans, trying to psych himself up to move. He wasn’t kidding. He’s really got to piss now, and hard as a fucking rock or not, it feels like it’s gonna happen.
Gerard gets one leg over the side of the bed, then the other, his pulse kicking every time Frank’s breath hisses. Squeezing his eyes shut doesn’t help but Gerard does it anyway, finally pushing away from the tangle of sheets to slide to his knees on the floor, braced on one hand while he clutches desperately at his junk with the other.
“Gee,” Frank says, crouching beside him. “Oh man.”
“Fuck,” Gerard says, because he’s got this feeling, right in the pit of his stomach, that surety he gets sometimes when he’s on stage or sketching a panel or when he’s got Frank’s dick in his mouth and he knows it’s exactly right, “fuck, I’m not– I’m not gonna make it.”
Frank lets out a long, ragged groan, his hand clenching tight in Gerard’s hair where he was combing it back. “Try,” he says, using it to tug Gerard’s face up. “You’re gonna try for me, yeah? Gonna crawl.”
Though that was already his plan, hearing Frank say it like that hits hard. Nodding, Gerard shifts forward cautiously. The urge to go holds off for maybe three feet and then it peaks, it fucking hurts, and he’s got to stop, grab himself again. He bites back a low noise when he feels dampness at his crotch.
“Shit,” Frank breathes, covering his hand. “Aw, shit, that was close. Look at that, fuck. ”
Gerard gasps, “No,” struggling to hold on even as he watches the dark stain spreading beneath their hands, taking the sharp spike of pain in his gut with it. The wetness doesn’t reach very far, but it’s there, and Frank’s hand is on his dick, rubbing damp cotton all over it. “I’m not, I didn’t.”
“You did,” Frank says, nuzzling in close to Gerard’s ear to whisper, “you fucking did, and you’re gonna piss yourself for real before you get halfway there.” Gerard shivers as his dick jerks, and Frank squeezes it quick and firm before letting go entirely and easing back half a dozen feet, standing right between Gerard and the bathroom. Weird spiky pleasure echoes in his wake. “How much you think we’re gonna have to tip housekeeping for having to steam clean your piss outta the carpet?”
“Fuck.” Gerard clutches at his crotch and just keeps breathing. He can feel Frank up there waiting for an answer, and he manages to wheeze, “A lot,” while he waits for the urge to pass. When Gerard thinks he’s got it under control, he shuffles forward about another half a foot. He can’t let go of his dick this time to do it, and he’s not sure if the warmth against his palm is precome or piss. “Oh god, a lot.”
“Gerard,” Frank says, really softly, making Gerard risk a glance up. He’s got a hand down his pants, the dirty shift of his fist barely hidden by threadbare cotton. He sucks in a sharp breath when he catches Gerard’s gaze. “Fuck, Gee, your face.”
“What?” Gerard asks, panting shallowly. He wants to jerk off so fucking bad.
“You just– You look–” Frank slumps against the doorjamb and swallows hard. “Let go of your cock.”
Reflexively, Gerard holds on harder. The need to piss is still there, his bladder fucking throbbing in time to his pulse or something crazy like that, but it feels better–feels good–if he keeps a tight grip on his dick.
“Hands off,” Frank says, hiking his shirt up with one hand and shoving his pyjamas halfway down one hip, peepshow tease with his cock still hidden. “If you’re gonna go, I wanna see you go.”
Gerard groans, “I can’t,” and lets his head drop. He thought maybe he could, but this is nothing like the little ache first thing in the morning when he’s got to piss his way through a bit of sleep chub. He’s fucking spectacularly hard and Frank’s up there jerking off waiting for him to fucking wet himself, both of them getting off so fucking much on just the idea of it that Gerard kinda wants to make it happen at the same time he’s really seriously afraid to try. Pulling in a couple of deep breaths, he bears down a bit, and the ache blooms like a mushroom cloud. “Fuck, oh fuck.”
There’s the hard thump of Frank hitting his knees about half a second before Frank’s fist is in Gerard’s hair again, jerking his head up. “Gotta come first, huh?” he says, palming sweat off Gerard’s face with the hand he’d had down his fucking pants. The smell of him gets stuck in Gerard’s nose and Gerard licks his lips, tasting salt and Frank on them. “You wanna?”
Gerard nods fast, blinking open his eyes when Frank’s fingers bump his face. He’s got his mouth open and Frank’s fingers sucked in before he gets a chance to even think about it, sucking more of Frank’s taste off of them and licking around trying to find even more when that fades. Frank’s making noises like he really fucking appreciates the effort, so it doesn’t make any sense at all when he grips Gerard’s hair tighter to haul him off. “Wait,” Gerard says, twisting around trying to follow, “wait, fuck, I want–fuck.”
“Yeah,” Frank says, shoving his hand down the back of Gerard’s pyjamas, pushing his wet fingers slow and steady into Gerard’s crack until they’re pressed snug against his asshole. He lets out a noise that makes Frank say, “Yeah,” again, rough and throaty, the tip of one finger pushing hard, harder, sinking in, easy ’cause Frank fucked him last night, right after Gerard rolled off after fucking him. “Can’t wait to make you come. I can’t fucking wait to see it, Gee.”
Gerard drops down to one elbow, his cheek skidding across his forearm, and gulps too-hot air that smells like carpet freshener. He wants to come now. He really, really seriously fucking wants to, but he pulls his hand off his cock with a groan and fumbles at his pants, trying to get the knot loosened enough to shove them down. He ends up pulling it tighter instead, and Frank isn’t fucking helping at all, crooking his finger a bit as he works it in deeper, draws back a bit, fucks Gerard with it. Gerard’s taken Frank’s dick on spit and latex before, okay, one fucking finger shouldn’t be shredding him to pieces like this, but it is and Gerard needs to come now and he yanks at his pants so hard he catches his dick, yanking it down instead, and fuck that hurts, that hurts sharp and sweet like Frank spitting and sliding another finger in. He’s so hard his dick bounces straight back up again, smacking him in the belly, and then Frank’s hand is right there, pinning it in place.
“Fuck it,” Frank says, hisses. Gerard doesn’t need to think, he just does, grinding into Frank’s palm and trying to shove back on his fingers. Frank’s hand on his dick feels too good to really get a steady rhythm going, and he still has to piss, all that pressure inside him on top of Frank fingering him too much to handle. He wants it, though. He wants it so bad he could fucking cry, and he lets out a miserable choking noise when he can’t make his body give it to him.
Something shifts; the pressure lessens. Frank’s pulling out.
“No,” he gasps, desperately clutching at the carpet, fibres and bits of glue digging under his nails. “Don’t, don’t. Fuck me, please fuck me, fuck me, okay, fuck me, fuck me fuck me–” He sucks in air and spit when Frank shoves back in fast. Frank’s holding onto his hip, and Gerard’s holding onto the carpet, so nobody’s holding onto his dick and it doesn’t even fucking matter. He’s gonna come so fucking hard and it’s gonna be so fucking good, and then he’s gonna– he’s gonna– Frank fucks him harder, really fucking hard, and his knees go out from under him. “Fuck!”
“Oops,” Frank says, not even fucking pausing, hand splayed out in the middle of his back holding him down, as if he’s got the energy or the fucking coordination to pick himself up again. Even covered with thick, plush carpet, the floor’s hard, way too hard for it to be really good, but Gerard can’t help shoving his dick against it. He’s got long enough to think thank fuck he didn’t get his pants down or he’d have fucking carpet burn on his cock, and then oh fuck, he’s getting jizz all over himself and his pants and the fucking carpet too.
Frank breathes, “Oh god fuck yeah,” his fingers buried deep, knuckles curved in tight against Gerard’s ass. He shoves his other hand rudely under Gerard and gropes around for his dick, ignoring Gerard’s weak groan when he gets hold of it. “Now,” he says, kinda breathlessly, like he’s gearing up backstage, “now, Gee, come on.”
“Can’t,” Gerard says, his orgasm still echoing through is bones it went that fucking deep. He flinches when Frank presses down and up. “Oh shit.”
“Come on,” Frank repeats. “Let go, just let go, okay, it’ll feel so good–”
“–fucking incredible, babe, just do it. Just do it, you’ll see– Yeah, yeah,” Frank says, and Gerard squeezes his eyes shut, feeling his insides tremble but nothing else, nothing to make Frank’s voice go thick and raspy like that.
Until he does feel it. This slow, spreading ache, a belated ticklish sort of feeling at his slit, and then it sinks in– he’s pissing. The second the thought hits it’s like a switch flipped and he’s really going, a hot wet rush soaking his pants and Frank’s hand and the carpet he’s trapped against. And it’s so fucking good. Incredible, just like Frank said it would be. He’s moaning out loud, his hips twitching like he’s trying to rub one out on Frank’s palm, spreading the mess fucking everywhere, come and piss and sweat. He barely flinches when Frank’s fingers slip free.
Frank’s hand shifts, cupping his cock through his ruined pants. He’s still sorta going, but it’s slowed to a fitful trickle, like his bladder is making sure it empties out every last drop in case he tries to pull a stunt like this again. He giggles a little at the image, high on sex and endorphins and the crazy shit Frank makes him want to do.
“Told you,” Frank says, kneeing his way up to straddle Gerard’s legs. “I fucking told you, and fuck, I wanna see, but I gotta–”
“Yeah,” Gerard says tightly, not at all a match for the heavy lassitude spreading through his limbs,”yeah, do it.” He struggles faintly with his pants before Frank catches on and yanks them down enough to bare his ass, and then Frank’s dick is hot against the cheeks, sliding between them, down further between his legs. He moans and Frank echoes it, barely getting in a few shallows thrusts before there’s the kick and the pulse, and Frank’s familiar choked grunt. Gerard’s in so much of a mess already he can’t tell when Frank comes, only when he’s done and slumps slowly down, laid out over Gerard’s back.
After a handful of seconds, Frank croaks, “Wow.”
“Fuckin’ tellin’ me,” Gerard croaks back.
Frank’s hand is still caught underneath him, not exactly comfortable for either of them, but Frank only wriggles his fingers a little bit instead of tugging it free. He presses his face against Gerard’s shoulder and laughs. “You’re fucking filthy.”
Shockingly, Gerard manages to dig up enough energy to flip Frank off. He’s pretty proud.
“Aw, babe,” Frank says, kissing his sweaty neck. “That was–” He pauses, his tone shifting to something serious even with the laughter lurking at the corners. “That was fucking hot.”
“M’sleepy,” Gerard huffs, but he is pretty filthy, too, his skin starting to prickle where he fucking pissed himself, and Frank’s back there making noises like he wants to talk about it. Like hell Gerard’s gonna miss an opportunity to talk about shit. Heaving a sigh, he props himself up on his elbows. His dick squishes uncomfortably in his pants. Wrinkling his nose, he says, “Ugh,” even as he gets a tiny dirty thrill out of it. He says it again for good measure as Frank giggles, and then he says, “Okay. It was really good.”
“Hot,” Frank corrects, muffled.
“Hot,” Gerard agrees. “Hot like me blowing you in the shower is gonna be.”
Frank goes suspiciously quiet. Gerard counts, one, two, three, then grunts as Frank shoves up. “You’re volunteering?”
“To blow you?”
“To shower, asshole.”
Struggling under Frank’s weight–which isn’t a lot most days, but Gerard’s feeling pretty rubbery right now–Gerard manages to twist around enough to look Frank in the eye. “I came so hard I pissed myself.”
Frank’s entire face scrunches up. “You know, that probably shouldn’t sound so fucking hot now that we’re done.”
“But it does.” Gerard’s feeling pretty confident on that front.
Face still all twisted up, Frank nods. “It really does.”
“So I came so hard I pissed myself,” Gerard says, grinning viciously when Frank groans and drops his head, “and then you came all over my ass. I’m not sure what part of that suggests I wouldn’t want a shower.”
“You never want a shower,” Frank complains.
“I never want to waste time showering,” Gerard says for what feels like the millionth time. He’s sure he’s explained this before. “But if you’re in there too, I can multitask.”
“I’m just another item on a list to you,” Frank heaves on a sigh, and clambers off.
“Oh thank fuck,” Gerard says, rolling onto his back and scratching furiously at his tummy. That shit fucking itches. He sighs in relief until Frank grabs at his wrists. “Hey, fuck, quit it!”
“You quit it,” Frank says absently, pushing Gerard’s arms to the floor. The really fucking disgusting wet floor. They’re gonna have to tip housekeeping so fucking much. Frank sits there staring at Gerard’s itchy red skin, and the mess all over it, for long enough that goosebumps start to prickle along Gerard’s arms. “I guess it’s twisted I find that sexy, huh.”
Gerard glances down. His belly is shiny and his ruined pants are clinging to his junk, and the splotches on his skin don’t look so much like irritation as they do like somebody was holding him down, digging their nails in to mark him. He squints at one of the marks and realises that’s pretty much what it is. Some of the marks are new ones he just put there, but that one isn’t. “Maybe if you wanna put your face in it,” Gerard offers.
Frank’s grin turns slanted. He leans down really, really slowly, and Gerard’s laughing, because no way is Frank gonna, but inside he’s squirming a little, not sure what he thinks, or wants. The grin falls off Frank’s face when he’s about an inch above Gerard’s belly, and Gerard watches, fingers twitching in Frank’s grip, as Frank’s tongue slides out. Peering up at Gerard through his eyelashes, he licks once, playfully, and then his lips are on Gerard’s groin, the bump of his nose pressing in, as he tongues a real, deep dirty kiss to Gerard’s filthy skin. Gerard’s mouth falls open. His toes curl so hard he thinks maybe they might break.
“Uh,” Gerard says when he lifts up.
“Shower?” Frank asks casually, and licks the corner of his mouth.
“Oh fuck yes,” Gerard says, already scrambling up. He’ll worry about housekeeping later.