fast learner
basement gerard way x afab reader
authors note: in my comeback era… who else cheered… anyway! HELLO WORLD and welcome back :3 this was a request from anon asking if i could get a take on a basement gee fic since they were curious how i would approach it! they asked me to make him vulnerable and inexperienced so, here you have it… except with a twist… enjoy!
summary: when your shy, soft spoken friend, gerard, skips class, you don’t expect to end up at his house that night- let alone tangled up in his bedsheets. what starts as a simple project turns into late night confessions, slow burning tension, and the realization that maybe you were never just friends.
before you read: cursing, unprotected sex, it gets sad here and there, gee is super soft and shy… but lowkey a fucking freak, gee takes y/n to pound town, overstimulation galore, LOTS of grinding (i missed writing that), it gets hot real fast, gee eats her out (woah), gee’s duality is frightening… that’s all, nicknames, y/n gets jealous, that’s all???
word count: 7,387
the wind gnawed at your face as you crossed the campus courtyard, november’s chill seeping through your coat no matter how tightly you wrapped it around yourself.
by the time you pushed open the heavy door to the psych building, the warmth inside hit you like a sigh- thick, stale air that smelled faintly of old books, burnt coffee, and too many sleepless students.
it was your last class of the day, and you were already over it. psychology should’ve been interesting, but with your professor’s monotone voice and impossible exams, it felt more like a slow death.
still, there was one redeeming factor that made dragging yourself here worth it.
gerard.
you two were close, but there was something about him that pulled you in, and made you want more. maybe it was his quiet charm, the way he seemed a little lost in his own head until you snapped him out of it with a joke or a smile.
or maybe it was how his pale cheeks flushed the softest pink whenever you brushed his arm or told him something kind. you told yourself he was just shy. you also told yourself you didn’t care that much. both were lies.
as you neared the classroom, your pulse betrayed you- thumping faster, a nervous rhythm under your ribs.
you could already picture him there, hunched over his notebook, tapping his pen against his lower lip like he always did when he was thinking.
the thought alone sent a small wave of warmth rolling through your stomach, the kind that had nothing to do with the heat in the building.
the heavy door groaned as you pushed it open, the wood catching against the frame like it was older than the building itself.
the rush of stale, overheated air hit you as you stepped inside. the faint hum of the overhead lights filled the silence, and your heart dropped the second you realized what was missing.
gerard’s seat was empty.
everyone else was already settled, half awake and slumped in their chairs. someone was doodling in the margins of their notebook, another was quietly clicking the pen cap like a metronome.
the air smelled faintly of coffee, printer ink, and that cheap campus floor wax they never stopped using.
you didn’t know why, but the sight of that vacant chair made your stomach twist.
gerard never missed this class. not unless he was really sick. and when he was- last semester- you’d spent the whole week glancing at the classroom door every few minutes, worrying over someone who probably had no idea how much space he took up in your brain.
you sighed, trudging toward the shared table in the back. the metal legs of the chair screeched against the linoleum as you sat down, earning a side eye from someone up front.
you slouched lower, trying to focus on the front of the room as your professor came in, clutching a half empty mug and a stack of papers.
her voice droned through the air, monotone and sharp, the kind of lecture that made time slow down.
you tapped your pen against your notebook, eyes drifting toward the window instead- out past the frost bitten november trees and the students smoking on the quad.
the thought crept in again, where the hell is he?
then her voice cut clean through your wandering thoughts.
“-and y/n, your partner will be gerard.”
your head snapped up so fast that your pen slipped from your fingers, clattering onto the table. you blinked, caught between confusion and disbelief, as she approached with a thin sheet of paper.
“good luck finding him,” she said dryly, setting it in front of you. “maybe tell him not to skip next class, or you’ll both fail because of him.”
that did it. you furrowed your brows, irritation bubbling up before you could bite it back.
“i’m sure gerard has his reasons,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “and it’s kind of unfair to assume we’ll fail just because he missed one class. maybe have a little faith in your students for once.”
a couple of students glanced up from their notebooks, whispering to each other like you’d just broken some unspoken code.
the professor blinked, clearly not used to being challenged- then turned back toward the front, muttering something under her breath.
you exhaled, shoulders tight, eyes flicking to the clock mounted above the door. the second hand ticked past the hour, class was technically over.
you shoved the project sheet into your old, fraying backpack, where loose papers and an ancient discman were already crammed together, and got up.
the scrape of chairs filled the room as everyone started filing out, their laughter and chatter echoing down the hallway.
you lingered for a second, staring at that empty chair again. then, with a quiet sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped into the corridor, the scent of cold air and cigarette smoke drifting in from outside.
if gerard wasn’t here, you’d just have to find him.
you still weren’t sure how you even managed to find gerard’s house. the drive there was a blur of static filled radio, yellow streetlights, and cold air seeping through your cracked window.
you hadn’t been there since the start of summer- back when mikey threw that chaotic party, and even then, you’d spent most of the night hiding away downstairs in the basement with gerard, far from the noise.
you’d told yourself you were just keeping him company. that’s what friends do. but the truth was, you’d rather be in that dimly lit room with him than anywhere else.
his house sat tucked back at the edge of the neighborhood, the kind of place that looked like it had seen too many winters.
the paint on the porch rails was chipped, and the faint glow of a lamp flickered behind one of the upstairs curtains.
you parked at the curb and sat there for a moment, engine humming softly, heart pounding hard enough that it almost drowned it out.
you tried to play it cool- he was just your friend, you were just checking in, but your palms were clammy against the steering wheel.
the memory of that summer night replayed in fragments, so vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
the smell of acrylic paint, the quiet buzz of some old misfits record playing low from his cd player. gerard hunched over his desk, his black hair falling into his face as he worked.
you’d sat cross legged on his bed, watching him mix tiny pools of color on an old palette, the lamplight catching the curve of his cheekbone.
he’d glance up between brushstrokes, meeting your eyes with his hazel ones as if he could feel you staring. and every time he did, your breath would catch in your throat.
you remembered how careful his hands were- steady, deliberate. how soft his expression got when he was focused, all the sharp edges of his personality melting away under the warm light of that room.
“y’know, you’re kind of intense when you work,” you teased, breaking the silence that night. he laughed quietly, brushing a streak of red across the tiny figure’s jacket. “guess i get that way about the things i love.”
you didn’t miss the way his voice dropped on that last word. and you didn’t miss the way your stomach flipped right after, either.
now, sitting outside his house months later, the weight of that memory pressed down on you. the comfort, the quiet tension, the way time had slowed until it felt like you were the only two people in the world.
you shook yourself back into the present, cutting the ignition. the silence that followed was deafening.
you climbed out of the car, breath fogging in the night air, and glanced up toward the window where that faint light still burned.
your pulse kicked up again. maybe he’d answer, or maybe he wouldn’t. but you needed to see him.
you cringe a little as you step onto the porch, the old wood creaking beneath your boots. the cold air stings your cheeks, every exhale turning into a faint puff of fog that vanishes before you can even see it properly.
the porch light above flickers weakly, throwing tired shadows across the maroon painted door- the color deeper, moodier than you remember. it almost feels like it’s staring back at you, asking what the hell you think you’re doing.
you stand there, heart thudding, debating whether to just turn around and pretend you never came. you could see him next week in class, act like everything’s fine, and save yourself the humiliation of showing up unannounced like some clingy idiot.
but before your overthinking can talk you out of it, you press the doorbell.
the sound is muffled, distant, but sharp enough to slice through the quiet street. you hold your breath. nothing. no footsteps. no movement. just the faint hum of wind whistling through the trees.
you hug your arms around yourself, teeth beginning to chatter. maybe this was stupid.
you’re just about to head back down the steps when you hear the soft creak of a door hinge.
you freeze, pulse spiking, and slowly turn. the door opens halfway, spilling a wash of golden light onto the porch. and there he is, gerard- standing in the doorway, blinking at you like he’s not sure you’re real.
for a moment, neither of you say anything. you take him in- the loose black tshirt smudged with faint paint stains, his hair a little messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and those tired hazel eyes widening when they land on you.
your chest tightens painfully.
you’re about to stammer out an apology, something awkward and half coherent, but instead you just move- closing the space between you and him, wrapping your arms around his neck before you can second guess it.
he tenses for half a second, startled, but then his body softens against yours. his arms come up around your waist, holding you like he’d been waiting for you to show up all along. he reaches back with one hand to gently nudge the door shut, sealing out the chill of the night.
you can feel his heartbeat through his chest, steady and warm against your own. the faint smell of turpentine and coffee clings to him, and something inside you unclenches. you don’t know why you suddenly want to cry- maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s the fact that seeing him after a day of worry feels like coming up for air.
he doesn’t let go right away. you feel the soft press of his chin on your hair, the slow sway of his body as if he’s grounding you both without realizing it.
but eventually, you pull back, just enough to look up at him. he’s smiling now- small, shy, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. you can tell he’s trying to find the right words, but you beat him to it.
“hey, you,” you say softly, voice more fragile than you’d like. “sorry for, uh… showing up like this.” he starts to protest, shaking his head, but you lift a hand to stop him, your palms still resting lightly on his arms.
“i should’ve called first. i just… i wanted to make sure you were okay. you weren’t in class, and then the professor decided to pair us for the psych project, so…” you trail off, suddenly aware of how pathetic that all sounds.
gerard exhales, his expression shifting. he runs a hand through his hair, the other bracing on the doorframe as if to steady himself. “shit, y/n. i’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “i wasn’t skipping, i swear. i had to cover for my friend, jessie… she got hammered last night when we ran into each other at the bar, and called out this morning- my boss was losing it, so i-”
the mention of her hits like a cold wave. you blink too quickly, nodding before he can finish, trying to disguise the sting in your chest with a laugh that sounds more brittle than you meant.
“hey, it’s fine,” you say lightly, stepping back to create space that feels suddenly necessary. “let’s just get started on the project so i’m not bugging you about it later, yeah?”
he looks at you for a long second- like he knows there’s something you’re not saying, but decides to keep quiet. you sling your bag over your shoulder, eyes darting anywhere but his.
“basement’s probably the best place to work, right?” you mumble. gerard hums softly, still watching you, expression unreadable. “yeah,” he says after a pause. “c’mon. i’ll clean up the space for us.”
and as you follow him down the creaky steps, you can’t shake the heavy, electric ache between you- the warmth of his arms still lingering, the quiet question hanging in the air that neither of you is brave enough to ask.
time seemed to slow to a crawl once you both silently agreed to give up on working at his desk and moved to the bed instead. it felt less formal that way- less like homework, more like something else you couldn’t quite name.
the room was dim except for the yellow light spilling from the desk lamp, casting soft shadows across his posters and half finished sketches taped haphazardly to the wall.
the faint hum of the old heater in the corner filled the quiet as you sat shoulder to shoulder, your thigh pressed against his.
gerard held the flimsy instruction sheet between his fingers, brows drawn together in that familiar expression of confusion that somehow made him even more endearing.
you leaned into him without meaning to, resting your head against his shoulder just to steal a little warmth. he was muttering under his breath, rereading the same sentence for the third time.
“what the fuck does she mean by this? a five minute presentation and a full front and back script on her imaginary scenario?” his voice was low, a little gravelly from fatigue. “what are we- robots?”
you could feel the vibration of his frustrated groan rumble through his shoulder, through you. it made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with confusion over the project.
he finally tossed the paper aside with a sigh, dragging his fingers down his face. when he turned to look at you, your breath caught. you were still resting on his shoulder, and up close, you could see the faint pink at the tips of his ears, the smudge of graphite on his thumb.
you swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of the silence stretching between you.
“maybe she gave us the hardest one because i’m always mouthing off when she gives me attitude,” you said lightly, tilting your chin with fake contemplation.
that earned you a soft, surprised laugh. the sound was quiet but warm, and the corners of his mouth quirked up as he shook his head, some of his hair falling into his eyes. you felt his shoulder shake beneath your cheek, and the sound sent a little rush of pride, and something dangerously close to affection- straight to your chest.
then he shifted. the movement was small, but it broke your contact. you blinked up at him, missing the heat of his shoulder instantly.
he leaned back against the wooden headboard, the paper crumpled next to him, grabbing his notebook and pen. “c’mere,” he murmured, voice soft but sure.
you hesitated for a second too long, heart fluttering at how easily the word left his mouth, and then crawled closer across the blanket. his eyes flicked up just once to meet yours, quick, like he was afraid of being caught- but the moment your knees brushed his leg, you heard him inhale sharply through his nose. his hand twitched like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
he looked away fast, pretending to refocus on the blank page, but the pink climbing his neck betrayed him. you couldn’t stop the smirk tugging at your lips as you settled beside him, choosing to lie on your stomach instead, close enough that your elbows nearly touched.
the mattress dipped with your weight, and the air between you felt charged, every brush of movement magnified.
you could feel his gaze flick toward you- once, twice- but he kept forcing himself to look back at his notes.
you didn’t look up, pretending to study the page in front of you, but you were acutely aware of everything, the quiet scratching of his pen, the faint creak of the bed when he shifted his leg, the way he cleared his throat before finally speaking again, voice a little lower than before, as if he’d just remembered how close you were.
“so…” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching as he started to write, “what do you think? should we make it serious or… something kinda stupid so she regrets assigning us together?”
you pondered it for a second, tapping your pen against your lip, then let a lazy grin curl across your mouth. “mm, maybe a bit of both,” you mused. “just enough to pass… but still piss her off in the most subtle, artful way possible.”
gerard huffed out a soft laugh through his nose, his shoulders shaking a little. “god, you’re evil,” he muttered, though there was admiration hidden somewhere in his tone. he didn’t look up, just kept scribbling in his notebook, his tongue poking out the slightest bit as he wrote.
that was how the next couple of hours slipped away- somewhat focused, mostly chaotic. you’d throw ideas at him between fits of laughter, and he’d quietly jot them down, his neat handwriting slowly devolving into sleepy scrawl.
every now and then, his hand would brush yours when you reached for the same page, and both of you would go still for a second before pretending nothing happened.
eventually, the hum of tiredness caught up to you both. your eyelids grew heavier, the words on your notebook starting to blur. when you turned to glance at gerard, you noticed the same exhaustion etched into his face.
his head had started to droop, his hair was falling into his eyes, and he kept rubbing at his temple as if that would stop the spelling mistakes that kept slipping onto the page.
you sighed softly, closing your notebook. the sound caught his attention. he blinked, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes with a small, curious smile.
“break time,” you said, your voice a little hoarse from how long you’d been talking. you pushed yourself onto your knees, stretching your arms up like a cat waking from a sunlit nap. the motion drew a quiet creak from the bedsprings- and something else from gerard.
you glanced down to see his gaze flick away fast, his ears tinged red. he was staring very intently at the notebook in his lap now, pretending to read his own handwriting.
you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “relax, gee, m’not gonna fall apart,” you teased, leaning over him to place your notebook on the nightstand.
the movement brought you close- close enough to catch the faint hitch in his breath, the subtle hint of his scent, and the warmth radiating off his body in waves.
you straightened up, pretending not to notice how his fingers twitched on the comforter. then, with a small sigh, you let yourself flop down beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight.
turning your head toward him, you patted the small space between you, your voice quiet and teasing. “c’mon, gee. power nap time. if we don’t sleep now, we’re gonna end up writing something like ‘our professor is a fascist’ into our paper, and then accidentally read it out loud next week.”
that earned you a real laugh this time- soft, breathy, but genuine. he rubbed the back of his neck, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looked at you with that shy, crooked smile that always managed to undo you a little. “yeah, okay,” he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion. “you’ve got a point.”
you heard the soft thump of his notebook joining yours on the nightstand, then the faint rustle of sheets as he lays beside you, facing you now.
his eyes were half lidded, long lashes dark against his cheeks, and the soft rise and fall of his chest matched yours in rhythm.
you could feel the tension in the tiny stretch of space between you- just enough distance that neither of you had to acknowledge how much you wanted to close it.
his hand twitched once against the blanket, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t quite dare. and still, he smiled- tired, shy, but warm enough that your heart felt too big for your chest.
time seemed to still as you both just… looked at each other. the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the old heater and the sound of your breathing, slow and uneven. his eyes were heavy lidded and glassy with exhaustion, but they didn’t waver from yours.
a shiver ran through you at the sudden draft creeping under the window above you. the loss of warmth made you instinctively curl in on yourself until gerard’s soft, hesitant voice broke the silence.
“want me to pull the blanket over us?” you nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “please.” he smiled, just a small twitch of his lips- and lifted the blanket, tucking it gently around your shoulders before settling beside you again.
the bed dipped as you shifted, inching closer until your knees brushed his thigh. you thought you’d been subtle, but the quiet hitch in his breath gave you away.
then, slowly, his arm slipped around your waist.
the touch was careful, almost shy, but it drew you in until you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm. his warmth bled through your clothes, grounding you, melting the anxious tension in your chest. you sighed softly, snuggling closer, your forehead finding the soft spot just beneath his collarbone.
gerard exhaled shakily, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip through the fabric of your shirt. you hummed at the touch before you could stop yourself- a low, content noise that made his hand freeze for half a second before continuing.
“y/n?” his voice was low, rough, and uncertain. you hummed again in response, not trusting yourself to speak.
he hesitated, then whispered, “this might sound so stupid, but… thanks for coming here tonight. i missed you. thought about you all day.”
that pulled you out of your haze, your eyes lifting to meet his. his expression shifted instantly- panic flickering across his features as he sits up.
“i mean- not like- shit, that sounds so creepy, i just-” he buried his face in his hand, groaning. “it’s just… no one’s ever been this kind to me before, and then there’s you- this pretty girl who actually likes talking to me-”
you cut him off with a small, teasing smirk. “oh? you think i’m pretty, gee?” he froze, his mouth falling open soundlessly like a fish out of water. his face turned scarlet, and you laughed softly, sitting up so you were facing him properly.
“don’t worry,” you murmured, reaching out to take his clammy hands in yours. “you’re not creepy. and if you are, then i definitely beat you to it.” that made him blink, confusion flickering into something softer- something like relief. you smiled through your nerves.
“i think you’re the prettiest guy i’ve ever met, gerard. not just how you look- though, come on, that’s obvious- but the rest of you. you’re sweet, and kind, and you actually see people. you make this awful place feel like it’s worth being in.”
his eyes darted away, his hands trembling in yours before he pulled back with a frustrated groan. “y-yeah, sure, but i still fucked it up. i shouldn’t have said all that- made you feel like you had to say something nice back. i just- i ruin things. that’s what i do.”
he started to shift, like he was about to get up, about to run, and panic flared in your chest.
without thinking, you grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to face you- and before logic could stop you, you swung a leg over his lap and straddled him.
the movement startled him, his breath caught, eyes wide, hands hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. you felt his heartbeat thudding through both of you.
you softened, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other gently cupping his jaw. “gee,” you whispered, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. his cheeks were a deep, furious red, and his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide.
“you’re not fucking anything up,” you murmured. “i care about you. i like you- a lot. probably too much. so please, just shut up and kiss me already.”
his lips parted in shock, but before he could stammer out another apology, you leaned in.
the kiss was soft at first- hesitant, testing- and for a second, he froze beneath you. but then something in him broke open. he kissed you back, slow but desperate, his hands finally finding your waist, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear.
when you pulled back for air, his lips were swollen and his expression dazed. “y/n,” he breathed, shaking his head, voice raw. “i’m no good for you. i’ve never- i don’t have experience, and i’ll just screw this up. you deserve someone who knows what they’re doing.”
you smiled sadly, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “gerard,” you said softly, “everyone starts somewhere. you’re not broken, and i don’t need perfect. i just need you.”
you leaned closer, your lips ghosting over his again, your voice a whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “and after all, you are a fast learner… so let me teach you. just follow my lead, yeah?”
he nods, fingers tightening on your waist as he draws you closer. your hands slide into his messy hair, tugging gently as he meets you halfway- a collision of lips that's hesitant at first, then deepening when your tongue traces the seam of his mouth.
a low groan escapes him, vibrating against your lips. his hips jerk up instinctively, pressing denim against your clothed clit before he flinches back, cheeks flushing crimson. “sorry, i-”
“shh,” you breathe against his mouth, rocking down deliberately. the friction draws another choked sound from him. your palm closes over his trembling hand, guiding it to curve possessively over your ass. his fingers flex, tentative then firm. “it’s okay, gee. touch me.” you arch into his touch. “don't hold back. i want all of you.”
a ragged “fuck- okay,” spills from him as he drags you fully onto his lap. his hands explore the swell of your ass, kneading with growing confidence while his cock grinds against you in desperate, unsteady rolls.
every shift pulls a shared gasp between kisses- lips parting, finding, losing, and reclaiming each other in a rhythm that leaves your thighs slick.
minutes blur. the ache between your legs sharpens to a throbbing insistence, each roll of his hips wringing a whimper from your throat. you break away, panting, a silver strand still connecting your mouths.
his eyes- wide, and dazed- lock onto yours. he looks shattered already, lips kiss swollen, hair wild where your fingers gripped it.
“gee,” you gasp, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “i need you- now.”
understanding flashes across his face. in one fluid motion, he rolls you beneath him, cushioning your fall with an arm braced beside your head.
clothes vanish in hurried tugs- a tangle of fabric discarded until skin meets skin. his gaze drops, lingering for a fractured second on your bare form before you hook a leg around his hips and pull him down.
he catches himself on his elbows, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling against your inner thigh. a shudder runs through him. “still okay?” he murmurs, voice scraped raw.
“more than okay.” you arch up, nipping his jaw. “c’mon, gee- show me what you want.” he groans at that, leaning back on his knees to get a better view of you. his stare locks where your bodies would meet, eyes dark with a war raging behind them- hunger battling restraint, fingers flexing like he’s physically restraining himself from taking.
you coo softly, pulling his attention back to you. “gerard? you okay? talk t’me…” he exhales a shaky breath, thumbs parting your thighs wider as he settles deeper between them.
“wanna- fuck- wanna fuck you so badly,” he rasps, hips unconsciously rocking forward like he’s already imagining it. “but… can we just… take it slow first? maybe i can-” he cuts himself off, dropping his gaze to where your skin glistens, and shows you instead.
confusion flickers- you’re still watching his face, the raw need tightening his mouth- but that’s when you feel it, the thick slide of his cock through your slickness, deliberate and slow, catching your clit with every upward grind.
a sharp gasp punches out of you, fingers scrabbling at the sheets as he settles into a rhythm- deep, grinding circles. his eyes slam shut, breath ragged. “god, you feel so- so fuckin good,” he grits out, the vibration humming through you.
every bit of tension he had snaps, your eyes widening at his next words. “fuck, sugar, feel how hard you make me?” he doesn’t speed up, just presses deeper, letting you feel every ridge, every pulse against that swollen bundle of nerves until your thighs tremble around his hips and your moans hitch higher, tighter- a coiled spring about to snap.
saying his duality gives you whiplash is an understatement. gentle one moment, an unforgiving thing the next- but you stop dissecting it when gerard shudders against you.
the rhythm of his hips loses all restraint, sharp and desperate as your thighs clamp around him. every drag of his cock against your clit tears another ragged moan from your throat, raw from crying his name. the slickness between you isn't just wet, it's obscene, a hot glide punctuated by the lewd slap of skin meeting skin.
“shit- fuck- y’can’t just-” your protest dies as he pins your thighs back to your stomach, forcing you impossibly tighter against him. the pressure borders on brutal- his cock a relentless, throbbing presence grinding against your swollen clit.
you feel every ridge, every pulse of him, and the sound- god, the sound of your arousal coating him echoes in the humid air.
his chuckle is dark velvet against your ear, vibrating through you like a live wire. “can’t just what, sweetheart?” his breath hitches when you clench around nothing, hips stuttering. “look at you… already ruined. s’that it? close already?”
all you manage is a whimper. the room tilts. white noise screams in your ears. your clit burns, oversensitive and electric, and when his next thrust lands just there, your spine locks.
pleasure detonates- a silent scream tearing through you as warmth floods your thighs. you feel his laugh hitch into a curse, his rhythm fracturing. hot stripes cover your stomach, mixing with your release as he spills against you with a groan that sounds like surrender.
for a second, there’s only the shudder of his body against yours, the frantic drum of his heartbeat where his chest presses to your ribs. he doesn’t pull back. just breathes you in, trembling, his forehead pressed to your shoulder like he’s clinging to the edge of the world.
gerard’s breath hitches against your neck, his chest heaving against your own where he’s collapsed, his weight a delicious anchor pinning you to damp sheets.
silence stretches, thick with the aftermath of your shattered orgasm, your mind still reeling inside like fog. your lips part to ask if he's okay after the intensity of what just happened- but he moves.
he pushes himself up onto trembling forearms, hovering above you. you expect the familiar flush creeping up his neck, the glance away- his usual shyness. but instead, his gaze pins yours. dark, possessive, and startlingly direct.
your vision swims, tears of oversensitivity blurring the soft lines of his jaw, the intensity in his hazel eyes reduced to smoldering embers. then you feel it, the sudden, shocking pressure of his thumb pressing down hard, grinding relentless, tight circles onto your hypersensitive clit.
a choked gasp rips from your throat. pure electricity jolts up your spine, arching you off the mattress. your hand flies out blindly, fingers scrambling against the sweat slicked muscle of his forearm- a poor attempt to stop the delicious torture, but it doesn't stop.
an instinctive whine of protest wells up, but beneath it coils a frantic curiosity, what is he thinking? what does he want? the air crackles with unspoken tension, thick with the scent of sex and his musk.
his voice shatters the charged silence, rough and utterly wrecked, scraping against your nerves like gravel. “m’gonna fuck you now... if that’s okay, baby...” the raw want in his voice, so different from his usual gentle tones, sends a fresh gush of wetness flooding between your legs.
heat flares across your cheeks, scorching. of course he notices- his eyes flicker down, a ghost of satisfaction curling his lips as his thumb never stops its ruthless rhythm, making coherent thoughts impossible. you whimper, lost.
he leans closer, his breath hot on your ear. “did i do okay?” the question is low, earnest beneath the roughness. his thumb presses impossibly harder, stealing your breath. “want me to do something different... when i properly fuck you, sweetheart?” the promise in his voice throbs low in your stomach.
somehow, you drag a ragged breath past the lump in your throat, your free hand fisting weakly in his sweat damp hair, pulling his mouth down towards yours. “you-” your voice is a shattered whisper, strained.
“you’re fuckin crazy, gee- gotta be lying when- mmph!” his thumb comes down harder, cutting off your words with a sharp cry torn from you. he laughs softly, a dark, intimate sound vibrating against your skin before his lips cover yours in a kiss startlingly gentle against the aggression of his hand.
he pulls back just enough to resume the torment of his circling thumb, his eyes locked on yours, seeing everything.
“y’think i’m lying, sugar?” his voice drops, laced with a feigned hurt that sends a shiver through you. “oh, that's... upsetting...” he tilts his head, studying your flushed face, his thumb still working its magic. “you thinking like that cause of how you felt earlier? when i mentioned jessie?”
ice floods your veins- your muscles tense, ready to defend, to explain the irrational spike of jealousy from earlier- a coworker he bumped into, nothing more. but he shushes you softly, effectively, with another tender brush of lips against yours.
the protest dies instantly, replaced by liquefied submission melting you back into his mattress. his gaze holds yours, unwavering, intense.
“baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sincerity that erases the playful hurt, replacing it with something sincere. “i wouldn't lie to you. y’know that.” he shifts his hips subtly against you, a blunt pressure low on your stomach promising what’s to come. “never wanted anyone- ever- like i want you.” his thumb slows its circles, becoming almost reverent.
“that’s never gonna change, okay?" his eyes search yours, demanding confirmation, vulnerability flashing beneath the intensity. you can only nod, your throat impossibly tight.
the devastatingly crooked smirk returns, softening the intensity for a beat. “and like you said, sugar,” he whispers, leaning closer, his breath mingling with yours, “guess i’m just a fast learner after all...” you feel the reflexive urge to roll your eyes at the cockiness, but before your lids even flutter, sensation explodes- jaw dropping in a silent breath as his cock fills you.
gerard’s hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt, and the desperate sound that tore from your throat wasn’t even recognizable. his rhythm was punishing, utterly lost from the wet, hot clench of you around him.
words tumbled from his lips like broken glass, sharp and breathless against your ear. “fuck- sweetheart, you feel so fuckin unreal- can’t believe this is happening-” his voice cracked. soft praises followed, choked gasps swallowed by the slick slap of skin on skin.
each thrust ground his pelvis hard against your clit, sending jagged bolts of electricity shooting straight to your spine. overstimulation blurred your vision, tears welling and spilling hot tracks down your temples, mingling with sweat.
you were liquid, dissolving. a choked gasp ripped free as he angled deeper, hitting that raw, hidden place that sparked white behind your eyelids.
his laugh was a ragged puff of air against your damp cheek. “oh, did i find it, baby? feel you clenchin harder- y'gonna cum all over my fuckin cock?” you could only hump against him mindlessly, a muffled plea vibrating in your throat, fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders. his cock pulsed inside you, thick and insistent, a frantic beat to your own racing heart.
you tried. lips parted, breath catching, a warning forming- “too much, i’m gonna-” but his groan drowned it out, low and guttural, vibrating through your shared skin. “sweetheart- m’gonna fill you up- if that's okay? gonna fuckin cum now- i can't-” the frantic rhythm faltered, turned sloppy, and desperate.
then, stillness. deep, shivering stillness. his hips pressed flush, pinning you, and the hot flood pulsed inside you- a relentless spill that felt endless, claiming. you whimpered, body shuddering in aftershocks.
is that it? the thought flickered weakly.
but then came the soft whimper as he pulled out- the shocking emptiness, the cool air hitting oversensitive skin. he hovered above you for a second, eyes dark, pupils blown wide, tracing the mess he'd made on your trembling stomach.
then he was gone, collapsing down, his face burying between your thighs before a protest could even form.
your eyes flew wide. “gerard, you don't have to-” the protest died instantly under the wet, searing drag of his tongue, a long, deliberate lick from your soaked entrance right up to your throbbing clit.
his rough palms pried your thighs wider, fingers digging into the soft flesh to keep you spread open, vulnerable. you bucked uselessly against his grip. he lifted his head, chin glistening, locking onto your stunned gaze. “m’gonna fuckin make you cum again, baby- just please,” his lips ghosted a soft kiss against your swollen clit, igniting another jolt. “let me do this? yeah?” your hand trembled as you pushed sweaty strands off his forehead. consent hung thick and wordless in the air, broken only by his ragged breath before he dove back in.
clumsy at first- too tentative, misplaced licks. then, a sharp intake of air from you, a desperate twitch of your hips- he found a rhythm. greedy, sucking pulls on your clit that dragged ragged moans from your throat, alternating with broad, flat strokes of his tongue lapping up the mess- it seemed endless, spilling onto his chin, and dripping onto the sheets.
low growls vibrated against your flesh, muffled words lost in your folds- “so fuckin sweet, wanna do this all the time.” the coil wound impossibly tighter. your knuckles whitened on the twisted sheets. pressure built- deep, molten, and undeniable.
“fuck, c’mon, baby-” his voice, rough and desperate- just wouldn’t stop. “you taste so fuckin good- need you to cum again- you can do that, right?” the pillow swallowed your scream as your back arched off the mattress. your legs shaking as that familiar, terrifying bubble of ecstasy exploded.
he locked onto your clit, sucking hard, relentless, the pressure unwavering even as your body convulsed, riding the brutal wave. it was sensation overload- only his mouth, his relentless suction, anchoring you through it all.
the feeling drained slowly, leaving limp exhaustion. but still, he lapped gently, tenderly, cleaning the slick mess trembling between your legs.
you weakly pushed at his head, breathless. “gee... that’s enough...” his response was immediate- a renewed, greedy pull on your clit. it shouldn't have been possible. but the raw spark ignited instantly, flaring white hot. another orgasm tore through you, sharper this time, ripping a choked gasp from your throat before the edges of your vision darkened, swallowed by momentary blackness.
as you come back down, the silence that followed was thick- the kind that makes the whole world feel like it’s holding its breath.
gerard’s body was still half draped over yours, his skin hot and slick against your own, his hair sticking to his forehead. the soft lamplight caught on the sweat along his collarbone, painting him in honey and shadow.
you stared at him, dazed, trying to catch your breath, trying to believe this was real- that it wasn’t another one of those daydreams you’d let yourself spiral into during class when he’d be sitting right next to you.
he finally looked down at you- that same shy, crooked smile tugging at his mouth, and for a long moment, neither of you said a word. there was just the sound of your mingled breathing and the faint hum of a car outside, fading into the distance.
then, with a gentleness that made your chest ache, he leaned down and kissed you again. softer this time, slower- a promise more than anything else.
“you did so good, y/n,” he whispered, voice rough against your cheek. “m’sorry i couldn’t stop.” you gave a breathless laugh, weakly swatting his arm. “you’re not sorry,” you murmured, but the fondness in your voice betrayed you.
he smiled- a little bashful, a little proud- before ducking his head as if trying to hide it. you watched him reach for a tissue, his movements tentative and tender, cleaning you up with trembling hands. he flinched when you hissed at the contact.
“sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing a soft kiss to your knee. you felt your heart squeeze painfully at the sight, the same boy who couldn’t even meet your eyes a year ago now looking at you like you hung the moon.
when he was done, he tossed the tissue aside and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. you went easily, curling into his chest as his fingers traced slow, absentminded circles along your spine.
for a while, you just lay there, the room dim and quiet, your breaths syncing in rhythm, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. the world outside could’ve fallen apart and you wouldn’t have noticed.
“hey, gee?” you murmured after a long pause, voice slurred from exhaustion. “yeah, baby?”
you hesitated, your lips curving against his chest. “don’t go back to pretending this didn’t happen tomorrow.”
he let out a shaky breath that sounded half like a laugh. “wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss into your hair. “you’ve got me now. for real.”
you smiled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, your body fully relaxed- every piece of you sinking into him.
the next week arrived faster than you expected, and the classroom felt smaller somehow. the cold air still gnawed at your flesh, the bitchy professor still rambled on about synapses and schemas, but everything else felt… more peaceful.
gerard slid into the seat beside you halfway through roll call with his hair looking oddly clean, and his notebook tucked under his arm. he looked at you- just for a second- and that shy, crooked grin appeared again, the same one from that night.
you felt your chest tighten, warmth pooling where nerves used to live. he leaned over slightly, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours, and whispered just loud enough for you to hear.
“hey, partner.”
you tried not to smile too wide as you nudged his leg under the table. “hey yourself.”
and for the first time since you’d met him, that dreadful class didn’t feel like hell.
because this time, gerard was here- right where he was meant to be, always with you.
