Quick note that doesn't matter so please just read the fic if u please lol: Sorry for not keeping up with fics, dms, parts, and requests recently, life's been a bit busy lately :0
Frank had been raised in a strict Christian household his whole life. he hated it, always made him feel like he was always doing something wrong over things so small. His upbringing affected him more than he cared to pay attention to, he considered himself atheist but would have moments where he felt like he needed to pray, as some people often come to at some point in their lives.
he'd recently been exploring his sexuality, he had known he was gay most of his life, only now just coming to terms with it. but still, it made him feel like he was committing some sort of sin, he couldn't deal with arguing inside his head every day about it and decided to try going to church again, maybe that would fix some confusion in his head, or at least get some sort of weight off his chest.
When he showed up, it was empty to his surprise, this place had been so busy when he was a kid, but now it felt abandoned. He remembered the place well, old memories coming up as he walked over to the old confession booth.
He shut the door closed, not expecting anyone to be on the other side so was taken a back slightly when he heard a voice say, "May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy."
That made Frank's eyes widen, before calming himself slightly and responding with, "Amen."
Frank let out a deep breath, not sure how to start now knowing there is actually some holy man for the church listening to him right now.
"Take your time, whenever you are ready." the voice reasured. Frank thought the man's voice was hot which only made him wince at himself and feel worse about his whole gay dilemma.
"I fear I've been committing acts of sin, Father... You see, not only have I been having sex before marriage, it's all been with men recently and I feel like I can't stop myself."
Theres a faint noise on the the other side of the booth, it kind of sounded like a small shocked gasp, or something along those lines at least. 'Great,' Frank thought to himself, 'why did I even come here again?' before he could even think about leaving, the voice on the other side continued.
"The church teaches that our sexual faculties are a beautiful gift meant exclusively for the covenant of marriage."
Frank raised a brow, he was expecting more judgement for being gay than the marriage thing, though i suppose that made more sense. The priest then spoke again, "We all struggle with temptation, including myself. No one is immune to human weakness."
Frank scoffed, the man made it sound like he was dealing with some sort of gay frustrations himself or something.
The priest had heard Frank's small sound, "It probably sounds like I am giving you a textbook answer to a deeply personal and difficult part of your life. I apologize if it came across that way." He said kind of timid sounding, which didn't help Frank in the slightest. The man continued, "Please, tell me what you're thinking right now. It is okay to be honest about how hard or frustrating this sounds."
Frank dragged his hands down his face in frustration before answering, "You just make it seem like you deal with gay thoughts all the time when I doubt that's even the case... i just feel, I don't know, it was stupid of me to come here."
Before Frank even touched the door, the priest immediately spoke up to his words, "Please don't say it was stupid to come here. It takes incredible courage to step into this booth and say the things you just said. I deeply respect you for that... You are right to call me out if it felt like I was minimizing your experience by comparing it to mine. My own thoughts and struggles don't matter right now. What matters is how heavy this is for you."
Frank paused. Was this priest actually gay? there was no way.
There was a short awkward silence between the two, Frank's body still facing the door as if ready to leave any moment.
"Is this something you find yourself struggling with frequently, or was this a sudden moment of weakness?" The priest asked, sounding kind of shy.
"I'd been struggling with the thoughts for a while now, but the sex thing is only recently." Frank replied.
"When we try to fight deep desires or temptations entirely on our own strength, we eventually run out of fuel. That sudden 'recent' step usually happens when the loneliness or the pressure just becomes too much to bear... And I must confess, I myself am fighting with thoughts on acting out on such fantasies."
Frank felt his heart suddenly pump faster at the priest's words, a sudden rush of warm blood flooded to his crotch.
After a bit of silence, theres a loud sound of sliding wood that echoes through the empty church, it was the priest sliding open the small window between them.
Frank's curiosity was too much and immediately peaked through it, he couldn't believe his eyes. On the other side of the booth was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen, he had a sort of fearful expression on his face that made him look like some lost puppy, as he was tightly clutching a type of cross necklace, fidgeting with it in his hands slightly, a visible blush across his cheeks and nose.
I can’t lie… for like the past year every night before I go to bed I quote Frerard butter fetish fanfic to my mom. She knows what it is too. Its highkey become routine and if I don’t say it every night it causes me distress.
info: Frank Iero is definitely not in love with Gerard Way. Frank Iero is definitely not writing vent poetry wishing Gerard wasn't such an enigma. Frank definitely doesn't publish his writing online under the pseudonym of F.T. Willz. Gerard becomes a fan of the poems he has no clue are all about him. Hell, Gerard never notices the way Frank is always manically, tearfully, and furiously writing in his notebook. Why would he ever notice Frank anyways? It's not like they'd ever agreed on a label for what they were so why would Frank care?
Spanning from approximately 2002-2007, this story is told in non-chronological order.
additional info: In this fic, Gerard is a transman several years into his medical transition and has undergone HRT and top-surgery long before the majority of the story takes place.
[Author is a transman who has undergone the same medical transition as Gerard.]
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Chapter Five: Frank/Gerard — February 14, 2004
Gerard mindlessly flipped through the same dozen channels the shitty motel television had to offer as he sat cross-legged on the king-sized bed. The tour manager had fucked up and accidentally booked the only honeymoon suite in the entire downtown area after the band member's insistence that he and Frank share a room. He wondered to himself if Brian had done this intentionally and if it was another typical tour prank... or if perhaps Brian knew that the two of them had never been merely bandmates with one another. Gerard didn't mind the romantic atmosphere despite a gut instinct telling him that Frank would either laugh himself to death or be mildly horrified at the very idea that the staff would assume they were newlyweds (or at least as close as two men could be to such a thing in the early-mid 2000s). He couldn't determine exactly why, but he deeply hoped that Frank would have neither reaction and, if he was being honest with himself, Gerard had no idea what he hoped Frank's reaction would be when he finally got back from a beer run and scoring drugs. The ironic juxtaposition of sitting in a honeymoon suite wondering what his relationship was with the man bringing home scheduled narcotics as a love language was not lost on him whatsoever.
He smirked to himself and continued cycling through the same channels, mentally taking note of the time which meant two things: Trainspotting would be on channel 10 in less than three minutes. It also meant Frank was nearly an hour later than he said he would be. He started worrying about the youngest member of the band yet, then again, when didn't he worry in some capacity about Frank? It was pretty hard not worrying about someone who gets hurt and hurts everyone else on stage with his visceral stage presence nearly every night. Still, it was a rougher part of downtown in a city they weren't terribly familiar with. His mind swam with the thoughts of what could go wrong. He could nearly drown in those thoughts if left alone with his own mind for long enough. By the time Frank arrived to the motel for the first time that evening, Gerard was engrossed enough in the opening scenes of the film, quietly reciting to himself in perfect timing and emotion with the main character's iconic opening monologue, he jumped a bit from his seat in the middle of the bed and nearly snapped his neck with how quickly his head whipped around to see Frank accidentally crashing into the door. The poor fucker had evidently attempted to carry a case of beer and a stash of drugs in all by himself without thinking of how he'd get through the door and still be able to close it behind him. Beer cans lay strewn about the floor but thankfully none were dented thanks to the carpeting of the honeymoon suite.
The film's opening monologue was a faint buzz in the background, 'Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?'
The setting sun of the February afternoon cascaded golden light and violet shadows through the sole window of the room, painting the young men in its ethereal melancholic glow. Gerard couldn't help but notice how the light made Frank's eyes sparkle — Frank, meanwhile, locked eyes with Gerard's which were a radiant shade of green rather than their usual hazel hue. Their hearts fluttered and palpitated in unison. The singer's gaze left the guitarist more stunned than a deer in headlights. He gulped. Frank felt grateful when Gerard finally spoke, his tone sassily playful as usual. "Are you gonna pick up those cans you dropped or are they part of the room decor now?"
"Wha-? Oh... yeah. Right. My bad," he said in a shaking voice as he proceeded to clean up the mess of his entrance, placing the beer neatly into the minifridge. He briefly turned his attention to the television and its electric hum. "Oh, one of your favorite movies is on, huh? Maybe this place is less of a shithole than we thought it would be, y'know what I mean?"
Gerard chuckled lightly, "I saw Dawn Of The Dead is supposed to come on right after this is over, too!"
"Fuck yes! Do the other guys know?"
"Mikey called me from his room to tell me about it while you were out."
"Couldn't be bothered to walk down the hall to his big brother's room to tell ya the good news?" A snarky grin spread across his face.
"He knew you'd be back any minute and said he didn't want to interrupt us."
"Interrupt?"
"He thinks we're having crazy nonstop sex," he plainly stated.
"Why would he think that?" Frank blushed.
Gerard rolled his green sunset-tinged eyes. "Why wouldn't he think that, Iero?"
Frank couldn't come up with a snarky retort to brush him off and the nerves made his hands unsteady. He wordlessly offered Gerard a cold beer which he grabbed, the elder of the two sighing in quiet relief the instant the cold metal touched his palm. He cracked open the can and effortlessly downed half of it in one swig. Frank copied his actions, hoping it would steady him enough to prevent any possibility of Gerard noticing his shaking.
"You're blushing like crazy, dude. What's on your mind, Frankie?"
"I don't know where to begin, honestly..." he trailed off as he considered everything he'd ever thought about saying to the black-haired man in front of him who was sitting on the bed with a look that was unreadable. Mysterious as always, Frank thought to himself.
"You know you can tell me anything, I won't judge or mock you, you know that," his tone was calm and reassuring.
"There's something I've been wanting to ask you for a long time but it's probably fucking stupid... Well, I guess it's more of a two-part question."
"Go ahead, man."
"Okay," Frank took a deep breath before continuing, "Do you like me?"
"What? Of course! You wouldn't be in the band if I didn't like you!"
"No, not like how you like the other members of My Chem. I meant more like... Do you like me?"
Gerard's eyes widened innocently in understanding realization. "Oh... Yes, Frankie. I really fucking like you. Um... What was the other part of the question?"
"Um, I was just wondering, like, how long exactly have you liked me like that for? Like, was there any specific moment or time or anything where you realized you liked me?"
"Hm," he pondered the question for a moment, "I knew from the moment I met you that you'd be an important part of my life and that I felt jealous pretty much every time someone would so much as look at you like they might want you, too."
"What, at the Eyeball Records party we first met at?"
"Yeah. Before then I just knew you were my kid brother's roommate who had some connections in the underground Jersey music scene, y'know? I was kinda shocked the first time I spoke to you because I've never connected and bonded with anyone as instantly and easily as I did with you."
"What, like love at first sight or something?"
"More like this weird obsessive nature I couldn't shake. I started thinking about you just randomly all the time after that first meeting. The very thought of you became a drug all of its own. The only drug I've never been able to stop and would never want to quit even if it killed me. I instantly had a crush on you that first meeting, no doubt."
Frank's face grew even hotter and he abandoned all hope of trying to hide how red his cheeks were. "When did it become more than just a crush?"
"Frankie, if I could rewind time I would have kissed you during our very first gig together. I would have kissed you in the studio when we were writing and recording Bullets. I would have told you I liked you the night we met and asked you to stay the night at my place had I not been worried about scaring you off or you not feeling the same way."
"Wow, uh... I mean, for me personally, that first time seeing you was kinda shocking."
"In a good way, I hope," Gerard teased.
"Yes, obviously in a good way, Gee!" Frank and Gerard both giggled. "The way Mikey talked about you, I just assumed you were some weird vaguely-goth art-freak nerdy loser who was a total basement-dwelling hermit who never saw the light of day and lived in a world of comic books and horror movies."
"Not exactly wrong," he laughed.
"Yeah, true enough, I guess. Still... Nothing could have prepared me for finding out my roommate's big brother wasn't just a multi-talented musical genius — Mikey failed to warn me that his big brother's unfairly hot and attractive in every way conceivable."
"I think it would've been weirder if Mikey had told you I was hot," he giggled again.
"Ugh, you know what I mean, Gee!" Frank buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie out of habit, the sleeves bunching up on his arms as the oversized zip-up Banner hoodie was one he'd borrowed from Gerard's clothing the previous day. He refused to take it off as it provided him with a sense of comfort and security in the scent imbedded in the fabric that would otherwise be absent whenever he wasn't in close proximity of Gerard. On his errands of getting enough beer and drugs for the group, Frank had hardly noticed just how alone he was when he was enveloped in the scent of Marlboro Red 100s and burned-black coffee. Frank's hands absentmindedly fidgeted in the pockets until his fingers caught on plastic baggies and pill bottles. Remembering why he'd taken so long to get to the motel in the first place, Frank pulled the assorted bottles of pills and dimebags of powder out of the pockets and placed them neatly atop the coffee table in front of him that was adjacent to a worn black leather loveseat. He noticed Gerard must've already put an ashtray, lighters, matches, and an open carton of cigarettes there while he awaited Frank's arrival.
The man sitting on the bed observed as Frank emptied his pockets, a newfound sparkle in hazel-green eyes indicated that he was impressed by the younger's haul. "Coke, xanax, uppers, downers... and a bunch of other shit, too. Plus I got a few bottles of liquor for us and the rest of the guys. It's a fuckin' all you can snort, smoke, and swallow buffet or something," his social anxiety made him overthink everything to begin with. Being around Gerard seemed to heighten parts of that anxiety. Being alone with Gerard was a whole other story. But being booked for half a week in a literal honeymoon suite with Gerard in tight black clothes, lounging on the bed with his legs mindlessly spread open as much as the tight jeans would allow? Forget about regular social anxiety — Frank could hardly keep himself from stuttering and stumbling through every sentence he spoke, and he could hardly keep his tongue in his own mouth or cock in his pants, not that he'd admit it out loud.
"Perfect," he smiled with his teeth showing, his familiar vocal-fry snapping Frank out of his swiftly-wandering thoughts. Frank knew he only smiled like that when he was at his happiest. He smiled back at him, feeling a twisted sense of pride and accomplishment. "Did way better scoring than I could. I just hope you didn't have to suck anyone's dick or anything for all this."
"Oh, fuck off, Gee! Besides you're the only guy I've ever sucked off for drugs and you know it."
Gerard rolled his eyes. "You say it was just blowing me for drugs but you also were asking me about the moment I knew I liked you as more than a friend or bandmate... Don't you think I wonder the same about you? You and I both know that 'like' doesn't exactly describe what we feel for each other."
He hated when Gerard was right. "Is that some sort of confession or an attempt to pry one out of me?"
"Both."
"Fine. I first felt attracted to you and totally mesmerized by you the night we met. I needed to be around you, there was simply no other option after I knew you at all. Maybe I wasn't as drunk as I said I was that first time we kissed but neither were you. When I'm fucking you it's like nothing else matters. Nothing matters more to me than you, no matter the context. It's been that way as long as I can remember of you being in my life."
He blinked, a little taken aback by the amount of passion and honesty in Frank's words. "I feel the same way."
"Good."
Frank didn't know what to do with his hands and he sure as hell didn't trust any words that threatened to spill out of his mouth in fear it could jeopardize whatever semblance of a relationship the two men had. In a moment of desperation and idiocy, Frank poured a small amount of coke on his own tongue and placed a xanax on top of it. He stuck out his tongue at Gerard the way he usually did but held it steady and unmoving as he began the dangerous game of teasing Gerard who knew the drugs would be absorbed into the guitarist's saliva and bloodstream if he didn't act right away.
Gerard had always been good at acting without thinking, especially when it came to Frank. He got up from the bed, nearly rushing Frank and accidentally slamming him against the motel room door in the process with the old wood groaning in protest as Frank was pinned against it, with one of Gerard's hands grabbing Frank by the collar, the other hand in his short dark hair. Frank had no choice but to look up at him with his tongue still out. He wasted no time at all in licking the younger man's tongue with plenty of pressure repeatedly. After a few minutes, Gerard could feel the start of the come-up, signifying he'd managed to absorb the majority of the drugs he'd been teased with just a moment ago. Gerard continued to lick and push his tongue against Frank's, pushing inside his mouth with little resistance. He quietly groaned into the kiss, opening his mouth more while pulling Frank's hair to force his mouth open. Pale artist hands moved from Frank's collar to his belt buckle as their tongues and lips brushed against each other.
"Are you sure–?"
"Always," the singer growled. "You're fuckin' lucky that I have a higher tolerance to all this shit than you do. You probably wouldn't have fully overdosed but you'd sure as hell have the most miserable high of your life." Gerard kept looking down and away as he thought out loud: "I guess this is the silver lining to being a junkie, y'know? I mean, I wouldn't have been able to keep you safe and still feel sober otherwise like what I just did."
Frank took the hands that clung to his belt and held them in his own. Gerard felt hot and cold in equal parts and Frank knew quite possibly better than Gerard himself the telltale signs of the beginnings of withdrawals; the dose wasn't nearly enough to so much as keep him stable and certainly wasn't enough to make him feel anything from it. He was sinking all too fast into something far worse than sobriety and the younger of the two knew of only one tried and true way of helping him.
"Oh fuck, Gee, no- You're not a junkie, alright? Look at me. Look at me!" He lifted his chin and turned his head for him, resting his hands on either side of his jaw, looking him deeply in his tear-filled eyes. His pupils weren't the right size and made Gerard's withdrawal only that much worse. Frank wondered to himself if Gerard even knew that that's what was happening to him. "Even if you were I know that nothing could never stop me from loving and wanting and needing you. I promise it would never change anything between us, got it?" His usual vocal fry had wavered and cracked towards the end of the sentence from not just the emotional weight of his own words, rather he had faltered after the L word they never said to each other so as to make it less real left his lips in a flustered gasp.
"You'd still want me even if I was practically a damn zombie? Not like Romero or Dawn of the Dead, I mean the real-life kind where I'm just unpredictable and wasting away faster than you can even blink. You'd want me even if that became a permanent reality?" Gerard bit back his tears through gritted teeth, making sure none spilled over so he could keep playing the role of the face of the band who has to keep his shit together for the cameras and fans at all times.
"I'd want you even if you stopped wanting me." He was careful to use want in place of love, assessing that Gerard must not have heard the initial slip-up. "You can't scare me off, Way. Never."
He seldomly showed his truly vulnerable side so openly like this. His walls were down and he was coming down too hard and fast for either of them to fix fast enough. Gerard tried to speak. Frank recognized the far-away almost unresponsive glaze in his eyes along with the sweat pooling out of him. He knew to immediately grab a bag or trash can or something for Gerard to puke into.
"Body couldn't absorb the xanax fast enough to stop it. 'M sorry. I hate that you have to see all this shit."
"I'd hate you going through it alone a whole lot more."
After a few minutes, Frank gave Gerard as many pills as he insisted on needing lest he suffer through that withdrawal that was only just getting started. He drank a beer in case the lack of booze was hurting more than helping. To counteract the sedatives he popped a few uppers and then required Frank's assistance to cut up the coke lines on the glass coffee table as his own frail pale hands were shaking far too much. He looked up at Frank, hazel-greenish eyes like a gun that was fully loaded and aimed at himself already; guilt-riddled and silently apologetic as Frank cut the lines easily, hands no longer shaking now that he had his bandmate's to worry about.
"It's alright, Gee. I won't let anything bad happen, I promise you'll start feeling better after we do these lines together. It's never failed before."
Gerard couldn't help but smirk at the truth and honesty conveyed succinctly within a couple of sentences. This was not their first rodeo. Trial and error led to the shared knowledge within the band that the quickest way to remedy the puking from withdrawal was to pump the frontman full of benzos, powder, whatever pharmaceutical narcotics they had available, and as many drinks as he could keep down.
Frank finished cutting the few lines on the table. He rolled up a dollar bill for each of them and handed one to Gerard. They snorted the coke in unison and waited for the high to hit. Trainspotting remained playing quietly in the background as the young men sat on the loveseat by the coffee table covered in coke residue. Frank arranged it into another line and split it with him. Gerard lit a cigarette and Frank followed suit. It was as if an eternity had passed before the drugs finally began to take effect.
Frank checked Gerard's pupils only to see that they greenish hazel hue had been nearly fully eclipsed by blown pupils. He didn't need a mirror to know his own were no different. His eyes darted to Gerard's hands holding a nearly-finished cigarette and saw that they were still, no longer shaking in the slightest. He huffed a sigh of relief at that. The colour had returned to his skin alike the life that had returned to his eyes. Gerard would be alright.
Meanwhile, Gerard's gaze kept darting from Frank's parted rosy lips to his darkening eyes and back to his mouth again, breathing in his secondhand smoke as he smoked what remained of his own cigarette before they both lit another in near-perfect synchronization. He stared openly and sultry now, his legs unintentionally falling splayed-open. "You have pretty eyes, Frankie." His voice came out soft, sweet, inviting.
Frank nearly choked on his smoke, coughing as he replied. "Th-thanks. Though your eyes are way prettier than mine."
He rolled his eyes. "Would it kill you to take a compliment, dude?"
"Maybe," he smirked.
"You have pretty lips, too."
"Thanks, uh, so do you-" Frank's half-assed attempt at accepting yet another compliment was cut short by Gerard's lips crashing into his. They quickly extinguished their cigarettes in favour of Gerard straddling Frank's seated lap, fisting the younger's hair as he bit his lower lip, sucking on his lip ring playfully before deepening the kiss.
Tongues pushed against one another messily with frantic desperation as they finally finished unbuckling and removing their belts. Neither could resist the primal instinct to grind their hips against each other, feeling their jeans gradually becoming uncomfortably tight as their hardening cocks pressed together through the layers of fabric. Frank softly growled with impatience as he unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled down Gerard's tight jeans that had nothing underneath, instantly freeing the elder's hard cock. His mouth watered at the sight as he removed his own pants and boxers with Gerard's assistance.
"We have lube, right?" The elder of the two asked with urgency.
"Yeah," replied the younger as he pulled a handful of packets of lube out of the pocket of his discarded bluejeans.
"Good — I don't wanna bother with you warming me up tonight. Just want you. Forget the condoms while you're at it, too; I need to feel absolutely-fucking-everything, got it?"
"Oh, fuck yes," he breathlessly moaned his response as Gerard began sucking his cock. "Oh fuck, am I not hard enough already for you, Gee?" The words came out in a pathetic whine.
"You're a lil over half-hard. Need to make sure you're rock-fuckin'-solid enough to take my ass right away. Besides, sucking your cock just makes me need you inside me even more."
Frank couldn't argue with that logic. Gerard was kneeled between Frank's knees between the loveseat and coffee table gently kissed and sucked his tip before teasingly kissing and licking up and down the sides of Frank's cock which had begun growing longer and thicker from the stimulation as he continued to harden; he'd always been a bit more of a 'grower' than a 'shower'. The singer pressed kisses along the vein of the underside of his cock before pressing his tongue flat against that same vein, slowly licking from base to tip with firm pressure. He repeated the action until Frank was whining and whimpering, hips bucking involuntarily. Gerard swirled his tongue around the head, paying careful attention to where the head met the shaft. Continuing to tease, he sucked the tip while using his tongue on the veiny underside. When he felt Frank about to lose control over himself, Gerard locked eyes with him as he took the entirety of Frank's length down the back of his throat in one go. He loved the way Frank's eyes widened and lips parted with a groan, noises becoming louder and rhythmically timed to each bob of Gerard's head as he quickened his pace. Frank's orgasm hit him too hard and fast to warn Gerard who audibly gagged and choked as he expertly swallowed the cum shooting from the cock that was still buried deep in his throat, Frank's fingers knotted in his hair and holding him there until he was done.
Gerard pulled off and licked the remaining cum from his own lips, swallowing again. "Think you can still fuck me after I made you cum so fast?" There was a wicked gleam in his eyes, proving just how badly he needed to be put in his rightful place.
"Shut up," he snarled as he man-handled Gerard, pushing him onto the bed and pushing his knees to his shoulders. Frank kneeled in front of the bed so his face was level with Gerard's cock and ass. Without another word, his tongue began to rim his hole before sliding in and out, starting slowly and quickly escalating the speed and depth, making him whimper helplessly as his own cock twitched and sweated beads of pre-cum. Frank wrapped a tattooed hand around the length, pumping at a merciless pace. The whimpers became moans which nearly gave way to screams as Frank's hand was painted in white warmth.
Frank applied copious amounts of lube to his own cock as he positioned himself over Gerard, smiling with pride in himself as he spoke, "I think the better question is if you can handle a second round, baby."
Something inside Gerard snapped at the term of endearment. "Frankie, if you don't fuck me like you're tryna get my faggot ass pregnant somehow right fuckin' now, I swear to god, I'll-" he was stunned into silence as Frank easily slammed himself inside Gerard, burying himself deep in a single thrust. Gerard's hands clawed into Frank's still-clothed shoulders as the younger drilled his cock inside his hole with a brutally deep and mercilessly brisk rhythm. Gerard's eyes rolled back into his head as Frank repeatedly nearly pulled out before thrusting balls-deep back inside and back out again, over and over.
God, I hope Mikey, Ray and the rest of the band and crew can't hear this, Frank thought to himself as he quickened his pace, forcing Gerard's rhythmic screams to grow progressively louder and louder with no end in sight.
"Fuck, Frankie," Gerard cried out, legs wrapping around Frank's waist and hips with his feet locking him in place, giving Frank no choice but to deepen his thrusts, quickening the pace further. It was when Frank was in the midst of giving Gerard a hickey on the most sensitively erogenous part of his neck that the elder earnestly stated, "I love you- Mmnnhh... fuckin' shit you're so perfect. Fuck, I love you so much, Frankie!"
Frank's hips nearly stilled in his genuine shock. After all this time of knowing each other and all these times they've fucked, kissed, and everything else they'd done together, Frank refused to believe that this was anything more than the drugs and sex getting to Gerard in the heat of the moment. "Are you sure you really mean that, Gee and not just because I'm nine inches inside your ass right now?"
Gerard struggled to reply between thrusts and moans and screams of pleasure. "Yes, Frankie. I love you. I'm in love with you. I think I probably always have been in love with you... Was always just too chicken-shit to say it for real. Didn't wanna risk destroying whatever it is that we have together."
"Fuck, Gee... Fuck, I love you too, baby. I love you so fuckin' much and I swear you could never ruin or destroy anything. I love you, baby," he repeated. Seeing Gerard's dick twitch once more and feeling him tightening around him, Frank began to stroke him in time with his thrusts and made a point of hitting Gerard's prostate on every movement both in and out.
The passionate making out continued, Gerard screaming into Frank's mouth, "So fuckin' close, Frankie! Need to feel you flood my guts while I cum on your cock!"
"Say you love me again," he ordered.
"I love you! Frankie, baby, I love you so motherfucking much!"
"I love you more," he murmured as he spilled inside of him, walls clenching around his cock as the tattoos on his knuckles became unreadable as Gerard's second far-larger load covered the dark ink.
Gerard unhooked his feet and unwrapped his legs, freeing the rhythm guitarist who pulled out slowly and carefully, being gentle so as not to cause any discomfort to Gerard. Grabbing the baby-wipes they kept handy for cleaning up, Frank tidied up the both of them and collapsed on his back next to the singer, both panting and staring up at the ceiling. They lit cigarettes, Gerard pulling an ashtray off the nightstand to set it between them.
The closing lines of Trainspotting emitted from the buzzing old television, 'Now I've justified this to myself in all sorts of ways. It wasn't a big deal, just a minor betrayal. Or we'd outgrown each other, you know, that sort of thing. But let's face it, I ripped them off - my so called mates. But Begbie, I couldn't give a shit about him. And Sick Boy, well he'd done the same to me, if he'd only thought of it first. And Spud, well okay, I felt sorry for Spud - he never hurt anybody. So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers - all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person. But, that's gonna change - I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm gonna be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television. The washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.'
"Did you really mean it when you said you loved me, baby?" Frank anxiously inquired.
"Of course, Frankie. I've always meant it, even when it was through other ways of showing and telling you."
"So it was never just casual fucking?"
"Never," he smiled.
"Well, fuck — that's a relief bigger than anything I could ever describe."
"I know exactly how you feel."
"I love you, baby."
"I love you more, Frankie."
There was a long moment of silence while both debated within their minds of what to do next. "I could go for a few more lines, how about you? I'll line them up again and make them bigger than the last round we did."
"Fuck yeah, baby," Gerard grinned, comforted by the fact that they shared the same idea of how to avoid any further awkward silences. "Let's do some lines and you can show me that guitar part you were working on for Bury Me In Black."
"Only if you show me the lyrics you've got written down."
Pulling out notebooks, pens, and Frank's guitar, the couple began to do what they do best together: Get high and create something out of nothing.
They didn't even notice when twilight gave way to a moonlit sky full of stars only half as sparkling as their locked eyes which were already both hungry for more. They had never been good at hiding just how much they craved each other. Now that they'd confessed the true depths of their feelings for one another, the cravings would only increase. Love and lust were simply other drugs they'd forever chase the high of and would stop at nothing for a fix.
The two young love-stricken men worked tirelessly, bordering on complete mania as they spent much of the next several hours going back and forth between making out and actually focusing on writing songs for the band's next album.
At some point, Gerard had said, "Happy Valentine's Day, Frankie," voice crooning even more beautifully to Frank's ears than any song he'd ever heard Gerard sing.
Frank blushed. "Happy Valentine's Day to you as well, Gee."
"Will you be my valentine?" Gerard giggled with childlike giddiness.
"Only if you promise to always be mine."
"I promise. Forever and always."
If only things could have stayed like that forever and always. For Frank and Gerard both independently and together, it was nothing if not rare for anything good to stay. They knew the risks. They would ultimately someday know the way things wouldn't always be this way. It wasn't always this way. Yet, no matter what happened between them, at the end of the day they both knew one thing to be certain: The show must go on.
info: Frank Iero is definitely not in love with Gerard Way. Frank Iero is definitely not writing vent poetry wishing Gerard wasn't such an enigma. Frank definitely doesn't publish his writing online under the pseudonym of F.T. Willz. Gerard becomes a fan of the poems he has no clue are all about him. Hell, Gerard never notices the way Frank is always manically, tearfully, and furiously writing in his notebook. Why would he ever notice Frank anyways? It's not like they'd ever agreed on a label for what they were so why would Frank care?
Spanning from approximately 2002-2007, this story is told in non-chronological order.
additional info: In this fic, Gerard is a transman several years into his medical transition and has undergone HRT and top-surgery long before the majority of the story takes place.
[Author is a transman who has undergone the same medical transition as Gerard.]
AO3 Link
Wattpad Link
Chapter Four: Frank — December, 1997
"Do either of you boys know why I called you into my office?" The principal asked with the school's priest standing next to the desk that he, the other boy and I were seated around.
"No idea," I lied through my teeth, fiddling with my hands in my lap as I refused to tear my gaze away from that dissociative comfort.
The other boy shrugged his broad shoulders in the seat next to mine.
"This school does not permit sin within its grounds nor within its student body. There have been a multitude of boys that have reported to me and Father Ellis that they've witnessed the two of you caught in the midst of sinful and inappropriate acts with one another. On multiple occasions."
"What is my sin, Father?" I asked with a pointed hazel gaze burning into the eyes of the elderly priest.
"Lust, sodomy, and most of all homosexuality. If you wish to avoid expulsion it would be in your best interest to cease these acts immediately, repent for these sins, and pray that God is merciful and forgiving."
"I don't need a God who forgives me! I need a world that understands me!"
"You are suspended, Mr. Iero. Effective immediately. Pack your things, head home, and do not return to these grounds within the next two weeks and you won't be expelled, understood?"
"Yes, sir."
It made no difference in the end. Nothing ever did. Within six months, that boy I'd been caught 'sinning' with had hanged himself in his parents' basement. I was blamed for his death and expelled, forced to complete my schooling in my New Jersey home. I made sure upon graduation that I didn't apply to any schools affiliated with any religion whatsoever.
If God could not forgive me then I would never forgive God who had shown no mercy to my lover nor myself. I had no way of knowing how cruel God would be to the love of my life someday. I would have no way of forgiving Him the moment I first laid eyes on Gerard Arthur Way in a handful of years from the time of my first male lover's untimely demise.
info: Frank Iero is definitely not in love with Gerard Way. Frank Iero is definitely not writing vent poetry wishing Gerard wasn't such an enigma. Frank definitely doesn't publish his writing online under the pseudonym of F.T. Willz. Gerard becomes a fan of the poems he has no clue are all about him. Hell, Gerard never notices the way Frank is always manically, tearfully, and furiously writing in his notebook. Why would he ever notice Frank anyways? It's not like they'd ever agreed on a label for what they were so why would Frank care?
Spanning from approximately 2002-2007, this story is told in non-chronological order.
additional info: In this fic, Gerard is a transman several years into his medical transition and has undergone HRT and top-surgery long before the majority of the story takes place.
[Author is a transman who has undergone the same medical transition as Gerard.]
AO3 Link
Wattpad Link
Chapter Three: Gerard — Early May, 2002
I awoke to the sound of my mother's shrill nagging as she pounded on the door of my basement bedroom. "Jenny, get your ass up, kid! You've got that meeting with those guys you play music with today, don't ya?!"
I rubbed my bleary eyes, barely conscious and already livid at my mother using the name she's known better than to utter in years. That didn't stop her from the constant deadnaming and misgendering. I rolled my eyes. She had meant the band rehearsal.
I ate nothing at the kitchen table in the company of Mikey and my mother, only drinking what she assumed was coffee and what my brother gave a knowing glance in understanding that I'd spiked my own drink with hard liquor; it was the only way I could survive so much as a casual quick chat with her the past few years. She pursed her lipstick-tinted lips and held her hands with the long acrylic fingernails. Her eyes were locked solely and uncomfortably on me as she spoke to my brother. I already knew what she was going to talk about because ever since Frank and I started hanging out in the basement more, this conversation had become a routine multiple times a day months ago. "Michael, why can't your sister pick between being a queer or being a fuckin' boy? She's been with girls before, I know that much. But this Franklin kid that comes over all the time, what the hell's going on there, huh? I mean, how can a gay man have sex with a woman pretending to be a man?"
"His name's just Frank, same as his father and grandfather's names. Frank is probably bisexual or something like that because I know he's hooked up with guys and girls on occasion. He sees my brother as a man regardless of whatever either of their sexualities are because Gerard isn't a fucking girl, mama. We've been over this shit so many times!"
"Watch your fuckin' mouth, Michael! It's bad enough my daughter goes and disrespects the Catholic church we raised you both in by her choosing to be every sin that goes against it and-!"
I pocketed her cigarettes while she had turned away to look at him, took my drink, got up from the table and left the house. I texted Mikey like usual when this shit happened. He was always better at handling her than I was and thank god for that, too. As I stealthily made my way out of the house, closing the front door behind me, I could hear Mikey screaming his lungs out at her as soon as he thought I might be out of earshot. I smirked, proud of how he never let anyone get away with treating me like shit, no matter who it was.
Meet U @ the practice space. Gna get beer OTW there TTYL, GL!
-G.
Twenty minutes later, carrying a case of beer in one hand, a bag with a fifth of vodka and another of whiskey, my pockets were lined with packs of newly-purchased cigarettes, lighters, and my bottles of prescription narcotics, I was nearly at the practice space when I got a text from Mikey. Fumbling to fish it out with a burning cigarette in my mouth and my hands full, I read the text.
Mama thinks U should go back 2 the psych hospital again. I told her 2 fuck off p much. Might B best if U n me stay wherever Frank ends up tonight. Or maybe I'll hang out w Ray n U n Frank can B alone 2gether? Better lay low for a few days at least. She is way worse than usual today.
-Mikey
I texted back as soon as I got to the usual place and had set everything down.
Maybe Mama's just crazy today cuz of how loud Frank and I were when we thought we were home alone for the weekend last Sunday. LOL. Probably nearly sent HER to the ward instead XP
-G.
Another alert.
OMFG THAT'S WHY SHE WAS SO MAD AFTER CHURCH LATER THAT DAY?! LMFAOOO
-Mikey
Absolutely roflmao
-G.
Within the hour, everyone had finally arrived for practice. Frank was the very last to arrive, apologizing to me profusely as he stumbled in with a case of beer and carton of cigarettes — great minds think alike.
"Where the fucking hell have you guys been?!" I seethed through gritted teeth.
"Did something happen with your mom again, Gee?" Frank asked in a small voice, testing the waters.
"Like always," I nodded as he automatically put a cigarette between my teeth and lit it for me. I guess it was muscle memory for us both by now in the few months since we knew each other and began spending nearly every waking moment together. "But fuck that shit. We've got a fucking album to finish writing."
"The show must go on," Frank smirked around a cigarette.
PLEASE hear me out on this. Gerard and frank are ex boyfriends and they always tell everyone how much they DESPISE each other but when night comes they’re sosooo needy when they’re alone together
one more time
(hey anon... I might've gotten a bit too excited and written 5k words of these emotionally constipated idiots... I hope you like this though ty for sending the ask! love u. take this as my pride month celebration)
summary: literally anon's ask
cw/tags: pro rev gee & frankie, a shit ton of arguing, mikey and ray are so over their bullshit and deserve compensation, main conflict is gerard's marriage, drunk sex, infidelity and cheating, rough sex, dom gee sub frank, praise & degradation kink, petplay, biting, choking, crying during sex, overstimulation, hurt comfort if you really squint
word count: 5,0k
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
"He's just... Reckless," Gerard would whisper to Mikey, looking at Frank across the room as he took another sip of his beer. "Reckless. I don't know why he's still in the band."
"As if you don't do crazy shit on stage, too." Mikey says, deadpan. "Don't complain."
Gerard scoffs. "Not like him. He's insane. He's a threat. I swear, after this tour, we're getting rid of him. Mark my words."
"You keep saying that, but you're making no progress in getting him out."
"No. This time, it's different."
Because touring was always stressful. No matter how good the numbers, how full the stadiums, how good the concerts, it'd always bring stress. Touring was enough, but getting married with the woman you love and then breaking up with your guy-friend-that-you-kiss-who-isn't-really-a-friend could break anyone.
Every after-party would consist of shitty stares and whispers. Gerard would talk to Mikey while looking at Frank across the room, and Frank would talk to Ray while looking at Gerard across the room. The music and the cheering of the people behind the scenes could be as loud as it could possibly be, and Frank would still give Gerard a middle finger constantly.
"He's just selfish," Frank would whisper to Ray. "He thinks he's the shit just 'cause he's suddenly the vocalist of this shitty emo band. As if." He scoffs. "He would be nothing without me! Or without you, for any matter. Ray, you fucking carried the band. Gerard's a shitty singer anyway."
"Thanks for the compliment, but you don't need to insult his talent just because you're mad at him." Ray raises a finger, giving Frank a condescending stare. "Besides, we are not an emo—"
"He doesn't even have any talent in the first place!" He kicks a loose plastic bottle on the floor, crossing his arms. "We should get Mikey to kick him out of the band. It'd be three against one. And as far as I know, three is more than one—MCR is a democracy! And we'll find another frontman—I could become the new My Chem frontman! I sing way better than him anyway—and then leave Gerard alone so he can pursue his family or whatever." He looks back at Gerard, catching him staring, and gives him another middle finger, mouthing LOSER at him, making him roll his eyes and look back at Mikey.
Frank's eyes linger on Gerard's new ring for way too long, before his sight goes back to the floor. Ray notices, and nudges Frank teasingly. "What was that?"
"Whatever. He's an idiot. I hate him. I hate him."
"Yeah, sure, Frank." Ray sighs. "Think whatever you wanna think."
•••
"Oh my fucking God. Did Gerard change the setlist?"
Ray shrugs, his guitar already resting on his body. "I guess."
"Fuck off. You can't change the setlist, fuckin', ten minutes beforehand. Where the fuck is he? I'm talking to him about this."
"Frank, it's fine, dude, he only changed two songs—"
"No, it's not fine. I can play these songs fine, but what if I couldn't? This is extremely unprofessional. We need to kick him out of the band, Ray, for the love of God, I'm telling you I'm an amazing frontman—"
Ray groans, waving his hand dismissively. "Go talk to him. I've heard enough rambling from you."
"Fine! You suck too, asshole!" He gives Ray a middle finger, shouting as he walks out of the room, slamming the door. He sighs, exhausted, dreading talking to Gerard out of all people, the printed setlist crumpling up as he holds it with force. He knocks on Gerard's dorm, and hears a groan from inside.
"Be right there in a bit!"
Frank scoffs. He hated that cheery tone he uses when he talks to other people. Anyone except him. Before the marriage, that tone was for his ears only.
"Hi, what's—oh. Frank." His smile drops.
"What the fuck are you thinking changing the setlist while we're literally on our fucking way to the venue? Are you insane?" He shoves the paper on top of Gerard's hoodie, crumpling it more. "Change it back. I'm not letting you do this bullshit."
Gerard shrugs, smiling. "What? Can't play the songs I put in there?"
"Wh—No! I can, dickhead. But you can't get away with this last minute bullshit. Change it back, Way." He pushes the setlist on his chest again, walking inside his dorm as Gerard falls back.
"God. You're so mad about nothing," he raises his hands in defeat. "Calm down, Frank. I'll change it. You're overreacting."
"Overreacting? Gerard, you know what I think is overreacting? Overreacting is fucking fighting me on stage just 'cus I got close to you—that's overreacting!"
"Oh, don't start," Gerard lets out an exasperated breath, shoving Frank's arm away. "I told you, I can't do that stuff now."
"Yeah?" Frank walks closer to him, smiling as he speaks bitterly. "You get a wife, suddenly you're better than all of us, you're a family man, you're superior—you don't even fucking invite me to your wedding, man! What the fuck was that!?"
"Frank, I couldn't..."
"Couldn't, huh? Who's stopping you? Are you ashamed of me? You couldn't possibly bear having me in your wedding pictures, huh? That's overreacting!" He crumples up the sheet of paper into a ball, stepping back and throwing it at Gerard. He doesn't even flinch in response, his eyebrows only furrowing in confusion as the ball of paper falls to his feet. "Fuck you! I'm fucking killing you after this show, Gerard Way. I'm fucking ending your life. Enjoy your last fucking night on earth! Fuck you!"
He slams the door closed, harder this time, and decides to curl up on his own dorm, refusing to think about anything until the show starts.
He didn't want to look at Gerard. He only looked at his guitar as he played. He was so exhausted, so upset, and so angry, he could barely give any energy to the concert. The crowd was shitty anyway, and Gerard didn't seem too into it. Thank the Lord he wasn't the only one with low spirits.
Yet, Gerard's tiredness comes from the wedding, from a happy start, a new start, from the idea of a family. And Frank's? It comes from a lack of thereof. If only he was the first one to fall in love with a girl, to get married... Would Gerard feel this shitty?
"Hate him, fuck," he mumbled to himself as the people backstage helped him off his guitar, bringing him water and towels. "Hate him."
Frank wishes he could go back home—which would be the tour bus, he's grown too accustomed to it by now—, but instead, he has to go to another shitty after-party, like they always do, even if it was the shittest show on earth with the shittiest frontman in the world. Fuck Gerard Way.
Well, staring at the ceiling for the rest of the night is simple enough. Ray would keep refilling his drink, but Frank would rather not make any conversation anymore. He doesn't even have the energy to complain, apart from a few loose insults here and there. He'd give a few spare looks to Gerard, who seemed talkative enough with Mikey. He wonders what bullshit he's telling his brother now to make Frank look like an asshole.
Mikey eventually leaves, patting Gerard's shoulder before walking outside with Ray. Whatever that meant.
Gerard keeps looking at Frank, but Frank just wants to leave. He isn't here for the silly games they usually play. He's exhausted, wishing for death to reach him, and the image of Gerard's ring flashing in his mind so constantly isn't helping in any way, shape or form.
He groans, letting his head rest on a random table, his arms around his head, like a tired high school student sleeping in class.
It's been enough playing. He wishes he could sleep, dream, and fade into himself. He wishes he could live a life where this marriage bullshit didn't happen.
"Psst."
And he definitely wishes he lived in an universe where Gerard didn't pat his shoulder as soon as he was actually falling asleep.
He raises his head, looking at Gerard through droopy eyelids. "Mm—What?"
"You're falling short on that death threat."
Frank scoffs, looking away. "Leave me alone. I wanna rest."
"We got a sleepy killer over here." He sits down beside Frank, making him notice the strength of the alcohol on his breath. "C'mon, Frankie. I'm waiting. I was excited to die. Touring fucking sucks."
"You're already drinkin'? God, it's been, like, one week of marriage and you already relapsed? Is it that bad?"
Gerard laughs, ruffling Frank's hair. "This isn't a relapse. This is controlled drinking and fun."
"Sure. I'll just ignore you, controlled or not."
"Don't be so mean."
"Mm."
Frank lays down on the table again, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep, but right before he can, he feels another tap on his shoulder, and he swears he could kill Gerard if it didn't have any legal consequences.
"What the fuck do you want, Way?"
"Chill. Grumpy." Gerard laughs. "Listen, don't fall asleep on this shitty table. I got us some rooms in a hotel nearby. The bus isn't leaving for two days."
Frank blinks once, twice, thrice, at the thought of a bed. An actual bed. "Holy fucking shit. Really?" He can't hold back a smile.
"Mhm. C'mere. I don't really wanna stay anyway."
"Holy shit. I love you." It comes off as a joke, an exaggeration, because beds are holy to someone in a touring band, but it loops around Gerard's neck in a thornful bow, making his brain short circuit. "Please get me to a fucking bed right fucking now, Gerard Arthur Way, and you might be alive tomorrow."
"You know, your constant empty threats don't help your reputation," Gerard replies, walking out of the establishment with Frank, both their steps sloppy thanks to the alcohol. "You're better off shutting up."
"Keep cryin'. I can do what I want."
"I'm sure if I wanted to, I could press charges."
Frank pushes Gerard in a tease. "Fuck you. You wouldn't."
"Hm? I wouldn't?"
He pauses, furrowing his eyebrows at Gerard before huffing—they're both drunk and stupid. Nothing means anything. He decides to keep walking, following behind Gerard.
Frank smiles, thinking about being able to sleep on a bed. The cold air of the late night going into early morning ambushes them both, the lonely streets comforting Frank in some way. Being here, alone with Gerard...
Fuck off, Iero, don't start, he tells himself. You and Gerard are done. Underline and highlight that, shithead.
Bringing him out of his insults to himself in his mind, Gerard taps his shoulder, pointing inside a building with his thumb. It doesn't look the fanciest, but it's much better than a tour bus.
He waits for Gerard to finish up in reception, yawning and stretching in place more than once. God, he needed to sleep so bad. A bed was just what he needed.
After a few minutes, Gerard comes back with some keys, a string looped around a small hole in them. He hands them to Frank. "So... Apparently, we're in the same room." Frank's eyebrows furrow, and Gerard tries to save himself. "Different beds though."
"Nope. You're going to the bus."
Gerard sighs, running a hand down his face. "Please, Frank. Grow up."
"Going to the bus, Gerard." He walks up to reception, holding up the keys to the woman behind the desk. "Hey, where's my room?"
"Fourth floor, to the right facing toward the elevator." She barely looks up at Frank.
"Oh my God—Frank, don't fucking do this. I don't wanna go to that bus. Please. It's separate beds!"
"I'm not sleeping in the same room as you." Frank presses the button for the elevator, and Gerard springs right next to him.
"I paid for this. You shouldn't even have a say."
"What, you think because you're the vocalist, you're more famous, have more money? I could've paid for this, asshole."
"Okay, but you didn't?" He walks in the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor.
"I'll pay it back."
"I am not sleeping in the bus."
"Gerard—"
"No."
Frank rolls his eyes at Gerard. "We're not doing this."
"What're you gonna do, though? It's my room, I paid for it. I could call the police on you, say you forced your way into my room."
Frank walks outside of the elevator, to his right, and Gerard follows closely. "Yeah? You're gonna fuckin' call the police like that? Just because I don't wanna sleep with you? Way to go, Gerard Way."
"You make it sound wrong, but you know I'm right, Frank. Why are you so fucking stubborn?"
Frank opens the door, and Gerard forces his way in after Frank, closing the door behind himself. "Stubborn? I'm stubborn?"
"Yes, Frank! You are! That's why we end up fighting every fucking time we talk. You can barely, you know, look at other perceptions of the situation. It's just—you, you, you! Why must everything be about you!?"
"Bold of you to say, Gerard Way, you fuckin'—selfish dickhead! You don't even realize how selfish you've been because you don't have the consciousness to see your own flaws. I bet you think you're perfect, huh? Your ego must be stroked nicely every fucking concert, right? Is your wife like that? Does she have poor self awareness too? Thinks you're the perfect family man?" He sits down on the edge of one of the beds.
"Don't bring her into this. She has nothing to do with—" he points vaguely at himself, then at Frank. "This."
"This?" He mimics Gerard's hand gesture. "What the fuck is 'this' supposed to mean?"
"You know." He does the same gesture again. "This."
Frank throws himself on the mattress in frustration, groaning as he covers his eyes with his palms, pressing into them. "Yeah, we're not talking. Good fucking night, asshole."
"What? What did I say?"
"I told you we're not talking."
Gerard sighs, sitting down the other bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. "Okay... I guess. Good night, Frank."
"Yeah. Fuck you."
"Okay."
Gerard lays down on his own bed. He quickly realizes he isn't going to be able to fall asleep.
He looks back at Frank, who's staring at the ceiling, fidgeting with his nails. He then looks at the ceiling, which seems to be the most interesting thing in the room, when comparing it to looking at Frank. He wants to look at him, to get another middle finger out of him, but he knows that isn't happening.
Did he fuck up? Really bad?
He hadn't seen Frank lacking this much energy ever. He'd always been the one to get the least tired in tours, to thrash around and give it his all every time he played. So why did he stand still in the same spot for this show? Did Gerard really hurt him this much? Is he this selfish?
If Frank is this hurt... Maybe he's at fault.
"Hey, Frank... I... I don't know if you're being mean for the sake of it, but I'm sorry if I hurt you. That wasn't my intention." He sighs, feeling a relief after letting it out. "I'm sorry if you think I'm selfish. I'm trying my best. Always."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"You could've been a little less mean about it. I just wanted a hug."
"I'm sorry... You know how I get in shows. I-I thought you were trying to, you know, and I told you we can't do that anymore, but you kept going and I had to push you away."
"Mm."
He looks at Frank, who's still staring at the ceiling.
"Does that upset you?"
"Yeah, it does. I liked doing that kind of stuff. And suddenly, you fight me for trying to do it."
"I don't want to do that kind of stuff while I'm married. It feels weird." He pauses, thinking. "But I liked doing it too."
I'm way too drunk for this conversation, and Frank is too. Why are we even doing this? This is such a horrible idea. Horrible. I should've slept in the bus.
Frank sits up on the bed, making eye contact with Gerard now. "Hey, Gee... I was thinking, why don't we do it one more time?"
"What? No, Frank, I told you—"
"Now. Here. The fans don't have to know. And I will shut up about everything and you won't have to deal with me again. Please. We can be friends after this. Just, give me one more time."
Gerard scowls, wishing he could say no to Frank. Instead, he pats the spot next to him on the bed. "Fine. Don't beg."
Frank smiles, his energy back to full as he lays down beside Gerard, his heart jittery with excitement.
"Keep it above the belt."
He nods, already wordless just from the idea of kissing Gerard again. He climbs up on Gerard's lap, straddling him as he leans down, kissing him. Gerard responds immediately, his hand grabbing the back of his head, getting a chunk of hair and pulling, making Frank whine, still refusing to break the kiss. He feels his blood rushing downward, and tries to control himself, but Gerard pulls his hair again, making his hips twitch slightly.
"Above the belt," Gerard mumbles, breaking the kiss.
"Fuck. I'm sorry. Y-You know I like it when you pull my hair."
"Control yourself, Frank."
"Ugh—you control yourself, shithead. You're turning me on on purpose. Asshole."
Gerard shrugs, smiling before he pulls Frank in another kiss, biting more this time, making Frank's jaw fall open with desire. He feels himself drool at the pain, his hips moving involuntarily, trying to search pleasure. He shudders in relief, moaning with a curved smile as he gives quick humps to Gerard's thigh, the texture of denim against denim overwhelming.
"What, don't you understand what above the belt is?" Gerard scoffs, pushing Frank away with a strong palm, making him fall back, supporting himself on his palms beside Gerard's calves, his erection still on top of Gerard's.
His smile falls, and he gives Gerard his best puppy eyes. "Please. Please, Gee. Please. It's our last time. Please."
"Oh my God—Frank, I told you to stop begging." Gerard sits up on the bed, huffing as he grabs Frank's chin. "Can't control yourself?"
"Please, Gee. Please."
"You sound like a broken record."
He whines, biting his lip in anxiety. "I really need this. Please. Just this once. We're never doing this again. Please."
"How'd you get this hard from just kissing?" He teases Frank with his other hand, squeezing his crotch. Frank's face scrunches up, letting out an airy moan at the pain, his legs tightening around Gerard. "You can't genuinely be this pathetic." Frank lets out a groan at the insult, making Gerard chuckle. "What? You like that? Is that why you start a fight every time we talk? You're into that shit?"
"Mmh, Gerard, please, I'm sorry, I need this—"
"You want me to insult you? Let you know you're just a pathetic dog? Is that it?" A small amount of drool falls on Gerard's hand, and he scoffs, retracting his hand from Frank's chin, wiping the drool on Frank's shirt. "Disgusting mutt. Go ahead. Hump my leg like a dog in heat, if that's what you want. Disgusting."
Frank lets out a pornographic moan at Gerard's words, the humiliation and the pet names making him go dizzy, but a hand quickly runs to his mouth, trying to shut him up. "We're in a hotel, puppy. Be decent."
"S-Sorry, Gee..." He mumbles, his warm breath tickling Gerard's hand. "I'll be a good pup..."
"Yeah. Go ahead."
He feels a smile appear as he sees Frank, his head thrown back as he starts humping, rubbing himself on Gerard with desperation. The expressions he's making—the way his eyebrows twitch, his teeth grit, or his saliva spills, it's too attractive, almost addictive to look at.
"Psst, pup, here," he whistles, as if calling an animal, and Frank's eyes immediately widen. He nods, his breath heavy as he pants, looking at Gerard with anticipation.
Gerard grabs the back of Frank's neck, forcing him into a kiss. Frank wraps his hands around Gerard, in some sort of twisted hug as his hips keep moving back and forth, the movement becoming more desperate with every second.
"Ah—Gee, feels so good, thankyouthankyouthankyou—" Frank tries to speak, yet he's immediately pulled into a kiss again, their tongues clashing with passion, the room full of wet noises and groans coming from both of them. "Ngh, fuck—"
"Close, baby?" Gerard wipes away the saliva on Frank's mouth, cradling Frank's cheek with his palm. "Yeah. Keep going. Be a good pup and come for me."
"Mmgh—Yes, Gee, close, close—" his eyes close, scowling as his hips start to ache from the constant movement, the denim making it harder to push through the thrusts, yet he can't bring himself to stop, feeling the high getting closer and closer to release. "Gee, please, please bite me—please, please—"
Gerard laughs, leaning closer to Frank, sucking on Frank's neck, making his hips stutter.
"Fuck me—feels good, Gee, thank you," his moans get looser, higher pitched, and Gerard thinks about scolding him for being loud again, but he can't care enough, enjoying his opportunity to give Frank pleasure. He bites harder, right on the crook of his neck, his jaw shaking with force as he bites as hard as he can.
Frank can't hold it in anymore, the pain too arousing—with a loud shout, his hips shudder one last time, coming undone inside his pants, his chin resting on Gerard's shoulder as he comes down from the high.
"Holy shit..." He closes his eyes, trying to calm his breathing down. "Fuck, dude. That was probably the hottest shit we've done."
Gerard laughs softly, rubbing his hands up and down Frank's back. "Good job, pup. You did great."
Frank's face burns at the praise, relishing the moment.
Gerard smiles to himself, softly comforting Frank, kissing the place he bit, paying close attention to his breath. When Frank leans back, Gerard gives him a small kiss on the cheek, letting him sigh into it.
"We're not done, pup."
"Wh—Why—What? Uh—shit—"
Frank hisses in pain as his back hits the matrress, his eyes widening as Gerard starts to unbluckle his belt.
"Holy shit. We're doing this?" Frank asks, his pulse racing again. "I-I don't know if I can..."
"Yes, you can."
"Wh—Okay." Frank laughs, his eyes following Gerard's pants and underwear as he throws them away on the floor. "Didn't you say to keep it above the belt?"
"Shut up, Iero. Take off your clothes."
"...Y-Yes."
Frank finishes undressing just a few seconds after Gerard, and as soon as he's naked, Gerard's lips are on his again, not letting him speak or complain. Gerard leans back, and before Frank can say something stupid, he shoves two fingers into his mouth, making him suck on them immediately.
"Yeah, that's a good boy. C'mon. Keep going. Get 'em nice and wet for me."
Frank moans on Gerard's fingers, seeing Gerard's smirk as his dick twitches in arousal. He sighs as Gerard pulls back, looking at him with dozy eyes. "Gee..."
"Calm down, Frankie. Don't beg."
He whines as Gerard pulls closer to him, kneeling on the mattress, guiding the back of Frank's knees to his shoulders, letting him have a better view of his entrance. Slowly, he inserts one of his fingers, making Frank twitch on them.
"No... Gee, need you. I don't need prep..."
"Shh, yes, you do. You do." Gerard thrusts in and out slowly, smiling softly as Frank lets out his annoyance in small grumbles. He tightens around Gerard in protest; one finger isn't even close to enough.
"Please. Don't be so fucking mean to me."
Gerard lets out an exaggerated sigh, inserting another finger, making Frank whine again as he starts scissoring him open, feeling for the spot Frank loves. He starts moving his hips in sync with Gerard's fingers, trying to reach the overwhelming pleasure.
Almost—Almost—Almost...
"Fuck off, Gerard, this is horrible, you suck at fingering," Frank moans, throwing his head back. "Please just fuck me. I can't do this."
"You're so fucking shameless, Iero."
Frank's eyebrows twist in pleasure, his hands over his face, trying to cover up the effect Gerard's words had on him. "Please, Gee."
"Tsk. No can do."
Frank gets his arms out of his face, unable to hold a laugh of relief as he sees Gerard hold the base of his cock, guiding it to Frank's entrance, his eyes widening every second. "Yes, Gerard, fuck, yes, please—"
Frank throws his head back with a yell as Gerard thrusts inside almost immediately, giving him no time to adjust as he holds Frank's thighs at each of his shoulders, getting him into a mating press as he adjusts. He leans in, giving Frank a quick kiss before leaning back up, trying to gather his breath. Frank tightens around him as he looks at Gerard's expression, fully undone inside the pleasure.
"Fuck, Frankie, that's good. That's really good."
"Mm, please, Gerard—"
"Y-Yeah. Yeah." Gerard lets out a breath, trying to think straight (and failing to) as he starts moving inside Frank, immediately hitting Frank's favorite spot. He groans as Frank squeezes him, trying his best to protect his pride by not coming right there. "Fuck, Frank..."
He lets himself rest for a few seconds, deep inside Frank, feeling every twitch and movement wrapped around his member. He slowly starts thrusting, leaning closer, almost forcing Frank to touch his shoulders with his knees as he presses deeper. He lets out a growl, his head falling down as he thrusts faster down.
His mind quietly reminds him about being quiet—Mikey and Ray are sleeping in the room right beside them, and even so, if neither of them shut the fuck up, they're getting a noise complaint.
Gerard can't care enough, his brain abandoning the train of thought as he hears Frank shout again, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he comes again, spurting on his own stomach. Gerard thinks about stopping—Frank's come twice tonight—and yet, he keeps going, guiding himself to his own release.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck—Gee, stop, please, hurts, it hurts—" Frank starts whining in synchrony with Gerard's thrust, feeling his eyes start to tear up from the overstimulation. "Stop, please, Gerard—"
"Quit crying. You were fucking begging—" he groans, panting as he moves faster inside Frank. "—begging for this, don't complain I'm giving you what you wanted."
"N-No, stop, please..." He sniffs, his arms over his eyes as he tries to cover up the tears, his body moving back and forth with Gerard's, the mattress creaking under the movement. "Too much, too much..."
"Ah—Fuck, no, wanna see you," he shoves Frank's arms away, the hair on his arms sticking to his skin from the tears falling out of his eyes. "God, fuck, you're hot—"
Gerard lets go of one of Frank's legs, letting it fall to the side as he forces pressure on Frank's neck, his thumb and forefinger wrapping around it, making him unable to speak or breathe. He mumbles in discomfort, grabbing Gerard's wrist, trying to pull him away.
Gerard moans at the sight, the feeling of Frank struggling below him, the quiet sniffs and sobs as skin claps against skin, being able to feel every twitch inside Frank's body as he gets closer—everything brings him to the edge, falling on top of Frank's chest as he comes inside him, giving him a few last thrusts until it starts to hurt from the overstimulation. He feels Frank shout alongside him, coming for the third time of the night, letting out a few weak spurts, his dick sore from the overstimulation.
"Fuck," Gerard groans, pulling out, seeing his release flow out of Frank, into the mattress. "I'm sorry, Frank, was that too much?"
Frank shakes his head, wiping his tears away. "No. That was fucking—fucking amazing, dude, I'm so glad you didn't stop. Shit." He laughs, looking at Gerard with disbelief. "My everything hurts. Dude, you fucking bit me like an animal."
Gerard gives Frank a small smirk. "You asked for it. Can you get up?"
Frank groans, sitting up, his hand flying behind his back in pain. "Ow—fuck... Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Come here. The room has a shower. Get cleaned up. I'll bring some clothes from the bus."
Frank nods, giving Gerard a small smile as he stands up from the bed, walking uncomfortably to the bathroom, stumbling due to the lack of lighting. On his way out, Gerard flicks the lights on, giving Frank a small smile before he leaves.
•••
"So..."
"That was it." Gerard says, firmly, slipping a cleaner shirt on. "I'm married now, Frank. I can't keep doing this."
Frank sighs. "Well... Thank you for the opportunity anyway. I... I'm not gonna be annoying anymore." He ruffles his hair with the towel again, his hair still dripping from the shower. "Can we be friends, then?"
"Yeah. That works out for me." Gerard sits down on his own bed, the dirty sheets discarded with Frank's stained pants and underwear.
"You aren't gonna shower?"
Gerard shrugs. "Eh."
Frank laughs, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. Of course."
As his laughing fades, a smile stays, and he lets himself fall on the mattress, the towel below his hair. He looks at the ceiling fan, spinning fast, then back at Gerard, who also has a small smile.
"Good night, Frank."
"Mm. Night, Gee."
Gerard flicks the lights back off, letting out a shaky breath as he lays down, trying not to think too hard about what happened tonight.
