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Fic: Looking For Fast Love (Frank/Gerard)
Hi hi hi! I wrote some porn. And it's OTP, oh I missed them so!
Title: Looking For Fast Love
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17 for dirty bathroom sex.
Length: 5 167 words
Summary: Gerard needs to get laid. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Author's Notes: For the Anonymity square on my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo card.
Looking For Fast Love
Gerard needs to get laid. He knows this. There's only so much jerking off a guy can do and there is only so much porn on the internet to do it to. Besides, jerking off is too easy and it's over too quickly and fuck, he just wants to kiss someone. Kiss them and rub up on them and feel them press back against him.
But it's not going to happen. At least, not without something drastic changing in his life. Slumming around his parent's basement, going to class and not talking to anyone, hiding away from the world the way he does is not going to spontaneously get him laid.
He tries, he does. He tags along to one of Mikey's parties and nearly hyperventilates from the press of bodies and noise and crowdedness. He tries really hard to make conversation with the cute guy he buys coffee from, but he can barely force his order out of his mouth let alone make small talk. If he can't even engage in a casual chat with someone, there is no way he'll be able to escalate that to making a move and thus, get laid.
He tries to talk to Mikey about it, but Mikey was born with some kind of supernatural ability to pick up with zero effort required on his behalf, so his advice is next to useless. He's all about the talking and the making eye contact and flirting and Jesus fucking Christ does he have no idea how hard that all sounds?
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Gerard briefly toys with the idea of writing an ad for Craigslist, but the thought of a subject line like "Basement Dweller Needs To Get Laid" is so unappealing he doesn't even get three characters into the text box before he closes it down.
So instead, he does research. Where can a guy go to get laid... quickly?
That's how he finds out about a particular public toilet in a particular public park. According to the gods of the internet, it's a place where guys go when they want to do stuff with other guys. It's an extreme measure, sure. It's about ten light years away from making conversation with a guy he sees every other day, but maybe that's okay. Maybe it will work. He's always been a person who does things ass-backwards anyway, so there's possibly a very slim chance that going straight to home base and skipping past all those other stops on the way will actually be okay.
He tells himself this as he takes a shower, washing two weeks of grease from his hair. He rolls it through his mind as he squeezes himself into his skinniest jeans, the ones that are so tight they dig into his waist, forcing a roll of flesh to flare over the top of his belt. He sprays himself liberally with deodorant, pulls on a clean shirt and tells himself he can do this. He can totally do this.
Mikey's in the living room watching Day of the Dead for the millionth time. Gerard specifically waits until he can hear screaming before he tries to cross the doorway, but he's not fast enough. Mikey catches sight of him, muting the TV. "Where are you going? You don't have class."
"Out." Gerard answers, staring at his feet.
"You don't go out." Mikey states with absolute correctness.
"Well I am, now. I have a... thing."
Mikey arches an eyebrow. Everything about him says I don't believe you.
Gerard fidgets, fighting a sudden urge to tell Mikey where he's going. Because, what if something happens? What if he doesn't come back? What if they find his body naked in a ditch somewhere and Mikey spends the rest of his life as an only child because Gerard's too much of a loser to get laid without going somewhere really fucking sketchy?
He twists the idea around in his mind, weighing up the risks against the severe mortification of telling Mikey where he's headed. By the time he's decided no, he won't tell, not unless Mikey asks very specifically the screaming has started again. He looks up to find Mikey's attention re-fixed to the screen like Gerard was never even there in the first place.
Not sure if he's slighted or relieved, he lets himself out the front door. It takes him three buses and a twenty minute walk to find the damn park. At least he hopes it's the right park. He trudges across the grass until he finds the grey brick bathroom block and when he sees the pink lightning bolt spray painted on the wall, he knows it’s the one.
He stops where he is, about twenty feet from the door, his heart beating in his ears. Now he's come all this way and he's not even sure if he can go inside. It's a cool day, but sweat prickles at the back of his neck and behind his ears. He can do this. He can totally do this.
He takes a deep breath and crosses the last twenty paces.
He's not sure what he was expecting to find when he crossed the threshold, but what he gets is pretty dull in comparison. It's just a bathroom, like any other public bathroom. There's graffiti covered doors, sinks, urinals, mirrors and four stalls. The place is totally empty.
It's like he's been stood up on his big date, standing in a skanky old bathroom in his best jeans reeking of deodorant. He paces the length of the room, peering into each stall and around the corner behind the urinals, not sure what he's looking for. It's not like he's suddenly going to stumble across a portal into the Land Of Sexual Delights or anything. This was a really fucking stupid idea.
He sighs, kicking the stall door. He tries to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans but they're too tight, so he just folds his arms and stomps towards the exit.
He's so busy stomping and staring at his own feet he doesn't see the other guy coming until they've collided. Gerard springs back, flinging up his hands and spilling apologies.
"Sorry, sorry. Sorrysorrysorry-"
"Hey, chill man, it's fine. Try looking where you're going next time."
Gerard's eyes stop dancing around long enough to focus on the guy. He's about half a head shorter and he looks a lot younger than Gerard. His hair is a brassy bleach-blonde, short at the sides and longer at the front, scraped forwards into a point. He has cheekbones Gerard wants to lick and his eyes are an intense green-hazel. If that wasn't enough, he has a lip ring, there's a scorpion tattoo on his neck and chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. He's like a shorter, scruffier version of every guy Gerard's ever crushed on and he's eyeing Gerard wearing a smile that looks... hungry.
Gerard's breath sticks in his throat, his mind whirling forwards. He can't be this lucky. He really can't. This guy can't be here looking for... someone like Gerard. He probably just needs to use the bathroom. Or maybe he is actually here to get laid, but with like, someone closer to his hotness factor. Because fuck, he's really hot.
Gerard digs around in his head, trying to find something to say. What would Mikey say in this situation? No, fuck that's weird, don't think about Mikey. Just say something. Anything.
"Um..." Gerard falters. Fuck, that's really all he's got?
The guy tilts his head, the side of his mouth twitching like he's fighting a smile. "So hey," he says, his eyebrows twitching together as he drops his gaze low, right down to Gerard's shoes, then drags slowly back up again. It's like getting painted with a hot brush, the way Gerard's skin sizzles under the weight of the guy's look and Gerard fights the urge to curl in on himself and wrap his arms around his pudgy middle.
The guy lets his eyes settle back on Gerard's face before he asks, "Are you here for the same reason I am?"
"Um." Gerard says again, wondering if maybe he's lost the use of his entire vocabulary. He clenches his hands so he doesn't start flapping them about and bites down on his lip, nodding in lieu of words because his vocal chords are totally malfunctioning.
"Cool." The guy says, the corner of his mouth pulling up and fuck, he's really cute when he smiles. Gerard sucks in a shaky breath, feeling lightheaded. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but he really can't force a sound out.
"Hey, so..." The guy says, shifting a little on his feet in a way that makes his hip cock out, He's wearing a tight black t-shirt that rides up with the motion and Gerard can see a hint of ink on the skin underneath. He has to force his mouth closed at the sight.
"Do you want to...?" The guy inclines his head towards the stalls and Gerard's mouth goes completely dry. Does he want to? Does he fucking want to? He can barely breathe and yes, he's totally sprung a boner in his ridiculously tight jeans.
"Um." He says again, and this time it comes out strained and high pitched.
The guy's brow furrows and he narrows his eyes at Gerard. "Do you speak English?"
"Yeah. Um. Yeah I do, I just. Um." Gerard fumbles the words out, his hands flapping at his sides. He can barely hear for the beating in his ears and if his heart pounds any harder it might punch a hole in his chest. "I haven't..."
"You haven't done this before." It's a statement, not a question.
"No. I mean, I've done stuff before, I'm not like. I mean, I have experience. I just, I haven't, come to place like here. I haven't..." Suddenly all the words Gerard couldn't find before materialize and a few more besides, rushing out and cutting off like premature ejaculation.
The guy just smiles, reaching over for Gerard's hand and tangling their fingers. His hand feels really warm and oh god he's touching Gerard. It's like his skin is on fire where their hands meet and Gerard knows he means it to be calming, but it just makes him want to whine.
"I'm Frank." He follows the introduction with a smile that turns Gerard's insides liquid. There's a long silence that borders on uncomfortable before Gerard realizes it's his turn.
"Oh I'm Ger-" His voice sticks, catching on his own name. He coughs abruptly and tries again. "Gerard."
Frank smiles, catching his lip ring between his teeth and Gerard's eyes get stuck on that motion. Frank follows it up with a swipe of his tongue across his lower lip like he knows Gerard's watching and Gerard can feel the heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks as he does just that. Frank turns, walking towards the stalls, his fingers still tight around Gerard's, so Gerard follows, letting himself be led into one of the graffiti covered stalls.
They squeeze inside and already Frank's body feels so close, close enough Gerard can smell cigarettes and soap, a hint of pot smoke too. Frank flicks the lock on the door and Gerard has to breathe in for a moment, push down the edge-of-panic feeling he has at being locked in with a complete stranger. A really hot complete stranger with a mouth that looks like one of Gerard's wet dreams.
As if sensing Gerard's skittishness, Frank says "I'm not locking you in, I'm locking everyone else out, yeah?"
Gerard nods, feeling way too nervous but fighting not to let it show. He's really bad at it, though, because Frank keeps using that calming voice.
"You know we don't even have to do anything. We can just jerk off together."
Gerard has to press a hand to the wall so he doesn't keel over. He's fairly certain there is no blood left anywhere else in his body aside from his dick, because all the heat in his person just shot down to his crotch, leaving him panting and light headed.
He takes a careful step closer to Frank, reaching out his hand to rest on Frank's neck, his thumb stroking across the scorpion tattoo. He leans in until he can feel Frank's breath bouncing off his chin, smelling like mint and tobacco. He can see a smile pulling at Frank's mouth and something light in his eyes in the split second before Frank closes the distance between them and kisses him.
It's like someone pulled out the stopper on Gerard's desire and it all comes flooding out in rush. The moment Frank's lips meet his, his mouth slides open, slipping his tongue in to find Frank's and kissing him back. Their harsh nasal breathing and the shuffle of their feet on the concrete as they push to get closer sounds too loud in the empty bathroom, but Gerard doesn't care. Frank's kissing him hard, locking fingers in his hair, the pressure of his hand on the back of Gerard's neck holding him in.
Fuck, it's hot. It's so fucking hot. He doesn't even know Frank's last name and he could care less. Frank's pressing up against him, rubbing on him as his teeth drag over Gerard's lip. The noise that leaks out of their mouths is needy and way too loud but Gerard doesn't have the brain space to be embarrassed. Frank presses him back into the wall, shoving a leg between Gerard's and grinding up on him. It feels fucking exquisite and Gerard's hands find their way to Frank's ass, squeezing as Frank writhes up against him.
Frank is all hands, mouth and twitching, writhing body. His skin is hot everywhere it touches Gerard's, like he's burning up and Gerard feels the same. He breaks the kiss, panting into Frank's neck, one hand coming up to lock in Frank's hair.
Fuck, he has to get it together. His whole body is on fire and it feels like he could come in his pants any moment. Frank, not realizing Gerard needs a time-out, keeps tormenting him. He licks a stripe up under Gerard's chin before sucking on his earlobe, wrenching a deep moan from Gerard that could probably be heard outside on the other side of the park. He heaves his body up against Gerard's with enough force that Gerard slams back against the wall and fuck, fuck he has to get his pants open rightfuckingnow.
He scrambles for his belt, not really thinking beyond damage control, but Frank sees the motion and copies it, struggling for his own belt which is pink and made of webbing. Frank gets his pants open before Gerard does, because Gerard's wearing the Batman belt buckle which always gets stuck and what the fuck was he thinking wearing this fucking belt when he's trying to get laid? Whatever the answer to that question is, it's lost when Frank's jeans come open and he shoves them carelessly down his thighs because fuck he's not wearing and underwear and... that's his cock. Gerard can see Frank's cock, and it's hard and red, thick and short and Gerard can't stop looking at it.
Frank no doubt notices he's being stared at, the way Gerard freezes, hands stuck on his belt, drinking in the sight of the man in front of him. Frank gives Gerard a smirking grin before reaching down to palm himself, wrapping his fingers around his fat dick and stroking. His eyes slide close as he does it, his mouth twisted into a shape that's part smile, part grimace. It's all fucking gorgeous.
Gerard devours the sight a moment longer, reminding his hands to move and he finally gets his fucking jeans open. He pushes down his underwear, not even caring that all his soft white flesh is on display; he's so hard, he's so totally turned on. The grip of his own hand on his dick is familiar and he falls into a slow stroking rhythm, the kind he uses when he wants to draw it out, when he has too much time to kill.
His eyes dance over Frank's body, lingering on every snatch of exposed flesh. He can see swallows inked into the skin of Frank's belly and there's damp dots of sweat scattered across the curve of his neck. Gerard's eyes keep fixing on Frank's dick, the strangely casual hold he has on it, the completely comfortable rhythm of his strokes. Mostly he gets stuck on Frank's face though, the shine of sweat on his upper lip, the dark roots of his hair along his hairline where it's growing out, his loose mouth, hanging open as he pants out his breath, his heavy lidded gaze that's twitching between Gerard's face and his cock.
It's such a fucking pretty sight, but Gerard's greedy, he wants to do more than look. He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, choking back a gargling groan, before leaning forward, tilting his head in invitation. Frank's kissing him again in seconds, hard, wet and desperate, their teeth clashing as Frank pushes in closer, pressing in until their chests are brushing and their hands and cocks are bumping. Gerard moans into Frank's mouth at the erratic contact and the next thing he knows, Frank's fingers are joining his on his cock, sliding down his shaft, slick with precome. Gerard has to break the kiss, his back slamming back against the wall hard, as a moan bubbles from his mouth.
"Fuck." He gasps, "Fuck."
Frank tightens his grip, working his hand over Gerard's cock and jesusfuckingchrist he can't breathe. He sucks in a shuddering breath, twitching and shaking, grabbing Frank by the back of the neck and kissing him deep and desperate.
Frank doesn't let up, if anything he speeds his hand, pulling on Gerard's dick as he kisses him all to fuck and goddamn it this is going to be over so soon it's embarrassing.
"Frank." He whines against wet lips, groping uselessly for Frank's cock, feeling selfish and greedy and like such a dud fuck for not returning the favor; but Frank hands aren't stopping. He's working Gerard's cock as he kisses him hard, grinding him into the wall and Gerard can feel Frank's hard-on pushing hot and damp at his thigh. Gerard wrenches his head back, letting out a screeching breath with a moan on the end of it as his head bangs against the wall. Frank presses his face into Gerard's neck, nibbling the skin gently as he tortures Gerard with wicked hands until he's shaking and shuddering, the hard surface at his back the only thing keeping him upright.
Shit, shit. It's coming, like a motherfucking freight train, his body floods with heat and his cock throbs under Frank's fingers. He tries to utter a warning but all that comes out is a loud shout as his balls draw up, Frank bites down on his ear and quickens his stroke and that's it, Gerard comes, shooting white streaks out of his cock as he groans long and loud, his body going molten under Frank's hands. Frank face is still pressed into in Gerard's neck, his hot breath pushing into Gerard's overheated skin as he slowly strokes Gerard down from his climax. Every neuron in his body is firing at once, he feels hot and sweaty and so fucking alive.
Frank's still rubbing against him, hips shifting like he's not even aware he's doing it, his cock painting streaks of precome over Gerard's stomach. Gerard tosses his head, trying to shake loose from his afterglow stupor. He clenches his hands into fists, then splays his fingers. Convinced his hands are working again, he slides them up over Frank's ass, around his waist and finds his cock.
It's weird, he's never really touched another guy's cock before. He's fooled around with dudes but it never really got much further than mutual grinding, so being skin to skin with an unfamiliar dick is disconcerting. But It's also kind of amazing, particularly when Frank tips his head back, his eyes slit and flashing desire at Gerard as Gerard finds his grip. Frank's dick is definitely thicker than Gerard's and he has to adjust his hold to get his thumb in the right spot. He knows when he's got it because Frank slumps against him, pushing out a breathy moan.
"Yeah, fuck yeah. That's it." Frank licks his lips, his mouth still open and Gerard can't stop looking at it; his lips are pink, wet and shiny with spit and fuck, Gerard just wants to bite them. He strokes up Frank's dick, spreading precome over the silky-slick skin of his shaft. Frank's dick clenches under his hand, feeling suddenly harder and bigger and Gerard has to bite down on his lip as something hot uncoils inside him.
He presses Frank back so he's leaning against the wall and he goes easily, panting hard with a breathy moan slipping out on the end of each breath. He tips his head back, displaying the white skin of his throat, as he humps up to meet Gerard's hand.
"Fuuuuck." Frank moans, throwing up a careless arm and his hand lands on the side of Gerard's face, his thumb over Gerard's lips. Gerard sucks it into his mouth, tasting salt and reveling in the throaty noise it pulls from Frank's mouth. Fuck, he's doing this, he's getting Frank to make those noises, to look that way, all heavy-eyed and fuck-ready. It's completely amazing. If he hadn't just come he'd be so lost.
Frank slides his thumb out of Gerard's mouth, smearing saliva across his chin as he grabs Gerard by the back of the neck and yanks him in for a kiss. When their lips meet it's wet and messy, Frank's kissing Gerard like he wants to eat him and Gerard gives it all back with lips, tongue and teeth. He quickens his hand, slipping into a breakneck rhythm and stiffening his thumb so it's rubbing hard in all the right spots. Frank moans into his mouth, a high pitched whine and yeah, Gerard's good at this, he's had nothing else for months and he's turned it into a fucking art.
Frank breaks the kiss with a bubbling moan, nearly head-butting Gerard when he bucks forward, shoving his hips into Gerard's hand. He's panting hard into Gerard's face, chanting curses and compliments like it's pouring straight from his brain. Gerard presses him back into the wall with his body, aiming Frank's cock so the sensitive head presses into Gerard's belly, sliding over the skin as he forces his hand to move so fast his arm protests. That does it, Frank makes a noise like he's dying, his hips leaping forwards once, twice, three times, then he 's pulsing and convulsing in Gerard's hand, the hot shoot of come hitting Gerard's stomach as he watches Frank's eyes flutter and his face distort.
Frank slams his sweaty head into Gerard's neck, fingers clutching so tight it's almost painful on Gerard's shoulder and neck. He panting, whispering "Fuck, jesus. Fuck." into Gerard's neck as Gerard strokes him slowly out of it. Frank's stopped whispering by the time Gerard lets go of his softening cock, wiping his hand off on his stomach. Frank arches up under him, claiming Gerard's mouth in a slow, lazy kiss and mashing their bodies together. Gerard kisses back, his fingers digging into Frank's back, losing himself in it for a few more moments and trying not to think about what comes next.
When they finally break apart, Frank looks wrecked. His cheeks are flushed red, his hair is a sweaty clumped mess and his lips are red and swollen from kissing. He's the best thing Gerard's ever seen and he has no idea what to say to him.
Luckily, Frank speaks first. "Fuck man. Holy fuck, dude. You're really good at that."
Gerard can feel his already warm face growing hotter. "I've ah... I've had some practice."
"No shit." Frank grins wide, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water as he wiggles his jeans back on and zips them up. It's a shame to see all that skin get covered up and Gerard supposes he'd better pull his pants back up too. He wipes half-heartedly at the spunk on his belly before Frank spins some tissue off the toilet roll and steps closer to wipe him off with the rough paper.
"Thanks." He mutters, eyes sticking on Frank's face, drinking in all the details while Frank's looking down. The dark curve of his eyelashes, the shiny silver of his lip ring, Gerard still can't believe he just got off with this guy, he's so fucking hot. Frank glances up and catches Gerard staring. It takes every last ounce of Gerard's willpower not to look away from the intense green eyes looking up at him. He probably only pulls it off because he's still riding a high from his orgasm. He gives Frank a shaky smile and pulls his underwear up, squeezing back into his jeans. The press of denim against his still sensitized skin feels too warm and suffocating.
"Hey, so," Frank licks his lips, balling up the paper and tossing it at the toilet. "If you ever want to, like, do that again-"
"Yes." The word shoots out of Gerard's mouth without his permission, cutting Frank off mid sentence. Gerard swears inwardly, chewing hard on his lip.
Frank barks out a laugh and smiles wide. "Okay. Cool." He steps into Gerard's space again, slipping his fingers between Gerard's and holding tight. "That's cool." He kisses Gerard, slow and gentle, and Gerard melts into it, his fingers curling tightly into Frank's shoulder. By the time they peel themselves apart he's breathing heavy again, and he can't stop running his eyes over Frank with his pretty mouth and his stupid yellow hair.
"Um, so we should..." Frank nods his head toward the door and Gerard realizes he's blocking their exit.
"Oh. Right. Yeah." Gerard shakes his head, shuffling out of the way so Frank can slip the lock and let them out. He digs through his mind for something to say as they slip out of the stall but he comes up with zero. He calculates the distance to the exit and decides he has less than twenty seconds to get a clue before they're out the door and he's missed his chance.
He doesn't count on Frank showing no interest at all in leaving, instead digging through his pockets until he finds a black marker.
"Gimme your arm." Frank says, wiggling his fingers in a 'come here' motion.
Gerard sticks out his arm obediently. He's not going to let himself believe this really is what is looks like it is; not until Frank's fingers have encircled his wrist in a tight grip and he's scrawling numbers up Gerard's forearm. The pen tip is wet and it tickles. Gerard fights a manic smile, a mad hysteria clawing at his chest because holy shit Frank is giving Gerard his number. This is huge. So much bigger than he's ready to handle.
Frank finishes writing with an artful wrist flick, glancing up from his handiwork to look at Gerard with a slight furrow between his eyebrows and the pen cap sticking out the side of his mouth.
"If you don't use that, I'm gonna be pissed." He warns, the words slightly slurred around the cap as he shoves the pen back into it without even taking it out of his mouth.
Gerard glances down at the string of numbers inked onto his skin, they take up nearly his entire forearm.
"No, no." The words stumble out of Gerard's mouth and he corrects himself. "I mean, yeah of course. I mean, I'll totally-" Gerard stops, takes a breath, and tries again. "I'll totally use it."
"Good." Frank pulls the pen out of his mouth with a pop and sticks it in his back pocket. He's grinning in a way that pulls his mouth up further on one side than the other, his eyes sparking as he slips in close to Gerard and kisses him soft and quick, like a promise.
It's over too fast, Gerard barely gets to taste him before Frank's sliding back and running his finger down the numbers on Gerard's forearm. "See you soon, Gerard." He taps the numbers with his finger, sending Gerard one last smile before he turns on heel and scuffs his way outside, kicking a piece of trash out of the way as he goes.
Gerard watches Frank's retreating back until he's completely out of sight, then he stares down at his arm for a solid minute until the numbers blur together. Then, and only then, does he cover his mouth and squeal into his hand, smiling so wide his teeth press into his palm.
***
Mikey is exactly where Gerard left him, the only change in the tableau since Gerard left is there's a different Romero flick on the screen and a few additional food wrappers on the floor beside the couch. Mikey glances up when Gerard stumbles in, taking in his rumpled appearance with a swift flick of his eyes.
"You got laid?"
Gerard would be offended by the degree of disbelief in the statement if it wasn't completely justified.
Gerard starts to open his mouth, but Mikey throws up a hand. "Don't tell me. Really. I don't want details. But good on you." He claps quietly, his mouth skewed to the side in a way that means he's fighting not to laugh. "I hope you were careful."
"Jesus Mikes." Gerard presses a palm to his eyes because really, he doesn't need to be getting sex advice from his three years younger brother. The movement just draws Mikey's eye to the numbers scrawled up Gerard's arm. Which is Gerard's cue to leave, preferably before Mikey gets his mouth open, because this can only get worse.
He's halfway to the stairs when Mikey yells after him, "You better call that number Gee!"
"I'll fucking call it, Mikey." He shouts at the ceiling as he thumps down the stairs.
"You better." Mikey warns, still shouting from the living room.
"I will!" Gerard yells up the stairs and slams his door, shutting out his brother and his stupid know it all voice.
He kicks off his shoes and peels off his jeans and shirt; crawling onto his bed in just his shorts which still smell like spunk. He pulls the nearest sketchbook from the mess on his floor, flips to an empty page and copies Frank's number down in clear thick strokes. Twice, just to be sure he gets it right.
Hugging the sketchbook to his chest, he flops back into the soft mattress, closing his eyes and thinking of green eyes and yellow hair.
~end
Title: Looking For Fast Love
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17 for dirty bathroom sex.
Length: 5 167 words
Summary: Gerard needs to get laid. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Author's Notes: For the Anonymity square on my
kink_bingo card. Looking For Fast Love
Gerard needs to get laid. He knows this. There's only so much jerking off a guy can do and there is only so much porn on the internet to do it to. Besides, jerking off is too easy and it's over too quickly and fuck, he just wants to kiss someone. Kiss them and rub up on them and feel them press back against him.
But it's not going to happen. At least, not without something drastic changing in his life. Slumming around his parent's basement, going to class and not talking to anyone, hiding away from the world the way he does is not going to spontaneously get him laid.
He tries, he does. He tags along to one of Mikey's parties and nearly hyperventilates from the press of bodies and noise and crowdedness. He tries really hard to make conversation with the cute guy he buys coffee from, but he can barely force his order out of his mouth let alone make small talk. If he can't even engage in a casual chat with someone, there is no way he'll be able to escalate that to making a move and thus, get laid.
He tries to talk to Mikey about it, but Mikey was born with some kind of supernatural ability to pick up with zero effort required on his behalf, so his advice is next to useless. He's all about the talking and the making eye contact and flirting and Jesus fucking Christ does he have no idea how hard that all sounds?
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Gerard briefly toys with the idea of writing an ad for Craigslist, but the thought of a subject line like "Basement Dweller Needs To Get Laid" is so unappealing he doesn't even get three characters into the text box before he closes it down.
So instead, he does research. Where can a guy go to get laid... quickly?
That's how he finds out about a particular public toilet in a particular public park. According to the gods of the internet, it's a place where guys go when they want to do stuff with other guys. It's an extreme measure, sure. It's about ten light years away from making conversation with a guy he sees every other day, but maybe that's okay. Maybe it will work. He's always been a person who does things ass-backwards anyway, so there's possibly a very slim chance that going straight to home base and skipping past all those other stops on the way will actually be okay.
He tells himself this as he takes a shower, washing two weeks of grease from his hair. He rolls it through his mind as he squeezes himself into his skinniest jeans, the ones that are so tight they dig into his waist, forcing a roll of flesh to flare over the top of his belt. He sprays himself liberally with deodorant, pulls on a clean shirt and tells himself he can do this. He can totally do this.
Mikey's in the living room watching Day of the Dead for the millionth time. Gerard specifically waits until he can hear screaming before he tries to cross the doorway, but he's not fast enough. Mikey catches sight of him, muting the TV. "Where are you going? You don't have class."
"Out." Gerard answers, staring at his feet.
"You don't go out." Mikey states with absolute correctness.
"Well I am, now. I have a... thing."
Mikey arches an eyebrow. Everything about him says I don't believe you.
Gerard fidgets, fighting a sudden urge to tell Mikey where he's going. Because, what if something happens? What if he doesn't come back? What if they find his body naked in a ditch somewhere and Mikey spends the rest of his life as an only child because Gerard's too much of a loser to get laid without going somewhere really fucking sketchy?
He twists the idea around in his mind, weighing up the risks against the severe mortification of telling Mikey where he's headed. By the time he's decided no, he won't tell, not unless Mikey asks very specifically the screaming has started again. He looks up to find Mikey's attention re-fixed to the screen like Gerard was never even there in the first place.
Not sure if he's slighted or relieved, he lets himself out the front door. It takes him three buses and a twenty minute walk to find the damn park. At least he hopes it's the right park. He trudges across the grass until he finds the grey brick bathroom block and when he sees the pink lightning bolt spray painted on the wall, he knows it’s the one.
He stops where he is, about twenty feet from the door, his heart beating in his ears. Now he's come all this way and he's not even sure if he can go inside. It's a cool day, but sweat prickles at the back of his neck and behind his ears. He can do this. He can totally do this.
He takes a deep breath and crosses the last twenty paces.
He's not sure what he was expecting to find when he crossed the threshold, but what he gets is pretty dull in comparison. It's just a bathroom, like any other public bathroom. There's graffiti covered doors, sinks, urinals, mirrors and four stalls. The place is totally empty.
It's like he's been stood up on his big date, standing in a skanky old bathroom in his best jeans reeking of deodorant. He paces the length of the room, peering into each stall and around the corner behind the urinals, not sure what he's looking for. It's not like he's suddenly going to stumble across a portal into the Land Of Sexual Delights or anything. This was a really fucking stupid idea.
He sighs, kicking the stall door. He tries to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans but they're too tight, so he just folds his arms and stomps towards the exit.
He's so busy stomping and staring at his own feet he doesn't see the other guy coming until they've collided. Gerard springs back, flinging up his hands and spilling apologies.
"Sorry, sorry. Sorrysorrysorry-"
"Hey, chill man, it's fine. Try looking where you're going next time."
Gerard's eyes stop dancing around long enough to focus on the guy. He's about half a head shorter and he looks a lot younger than Gerard. His hair is a brassy bleach-blonde, short at the sides and longer at the front, scraped forwards into a point. He has cheekbones Gerard wants to lick and his eyes are an intense green-hazel. If that wasn't enough, he has a lip ring, there's a scorpion tattoo on his neck and chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. He's like a shorter, scruffier version of every guy Gerard's ever crushed on and he's eyeing Gerard wearing a smile that looks... hungry.
Gerard's breath sticks in his throat, his mind whirling forwards. He can't be this lucky. He really can't. This guy can't be here looking for... someone like Gerard. He probably just needs to use the bathroom. Or maybe he is actually here to get laid, but with like, someone closer to his hotness factor. Because fuck, he's really hot.
Gerard digs around in his head, trying to find something to say. What would Mikey say in this situation? No, fuck that's weird, don't think about Mikey. Just say something. Anything.
"Um..." Gerard falters. Fuck, that's really all he's got?
The guy tilts his head, the side of his mouth twitching like he's fighting a smile. "So hey," he says, his eyebrows twitching together as he drops his gaze low, right down to Gerard's shoes, then drags slowly back up again. It's like getting painted with a hot brush, the way Gerard's skin sizzles under the weight of the guy's look and Gerard fights the urge to curl in on himself and wrap his arms around his pudgy middle.
The guy lets his eyes settle back on Gerard's face before he asks, "Are you here for the same reason I am?"
"Um." Gerard says again, wondering if maybe he's lost the use of his entire vocabulary. He clenches his hands so he doesn't start flapping them about and bites down on his lip, nodding in lieu of words because his vocal chords are totally malfunctioning.
"Cool." The guy says, the corner of his mouth pulling up and fuck, he's really cute when he smiles. Gerard sucks in a shaky breath, feeling lightheaded. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but he really can't force a sound out.
"Hey, so..." The guy says, shifting a little on his feet in a way that makes his hip cock out, He's wearing a tight black t-shirt that rides up with the motion and Gerard can see a hint of ink on the skin underneath. He has to force his mouth closed at the sight.
"Do you want to...?" The guy inclines his head towards the stalls and Gerard's mouth goes completely dry. Does he want to? Does he fucking want to? He can barely breathe and yes, he's totally sprung a boner in his ridiculously tight jeans.
"Um." He says again, and this time it comes out strained and high pitched.
The guy's brow furrows and he narrows his eyes at Gerard. "Do you speak English?"
"Yeah. Um. Yeah I do, I just. Um." Gerard fumbles the words out, his hands flapping at his sides. He can barely hear for the beating in his ears and if his heart pounds any harder it might punch a hole in his chest. "I haven't..."
"You haven't done this before." It's a statement, not a question.
"No. I mean, I've done stuff before, I'm not like. I mean, I have experience. I just, I haven't, come to place like here. I haven't..." Suddenly all the words Gerard couldn't find before materialize and a few more besides, rushing out and cutting off like premature ejaculation.
The guy just smiles, reaching over for Gerard's hand and tangling their fingers. His hand feels really warm and oh god he's touching Gerard. It's like his skin is on fire where their hands meet and Gerard knows he means it to be calming, but it just makes him want to whine.
"I'm Frank." He follows the introduction with a smile that turns Gerard's insides liquid. There's a long silence that borders on uncomfortable before Gerard realizes it's his turn.
"Oh I'm Ger-" His voice sticks, catching on his own name. He coughs abruptly and tries again. "Gerard."
Frank smiles, catching his lip ring between his teeth and Gerard's eyes get stuck on that motion. Frank follows it up with a swipe of his tongue across his lower lip like he knows Gerard's watching and Gerard can feel the heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks as he does just that. Frank turns, walking towards the stalls, his fingers still tight around Gerard's, so Gerard follows, letting himself be led into one of the graffiti covered stalls.
They squeeze inside and already Frank's body feels so close, close enough Gerard can smell cigarettes and soap, a hint of pot smoke too. Frank flicks the lock on the door and Gerard has to breathe in for a moment, push down the edge-of-panic feeling he has at being locked in with a complete stranger. A really hot complete stranger with a mouth that looks like one of Gerard's wet dreams.
As if sensing Gerard's skittishness, Frank says "I'm not locking you in, I'm locking everyone else out, yeah?"
Gerard nods, feeling way too nervous but fighting not to let it show. He's really bad at it, though, because Frank keeps using that calming voice.
"You know we don't even have to do anything. We can just jerk off together."
Gerard has to press a hand to the wall so he doesn't keel over. He's fairly certain there is no blood left anywhere else in his body aside from his dick, because all the heat in his person just shot down to his crotch, leaving him panting and light headed.
He takes a careful step closer to Frank, reaching out his hand to rest on Frank's neck, his thumb stroking across the scorpion tattoo. He leans in until he can feel Frank's breath bouncing off his chin, smelling like mint and tobacco. He can see a smile pulling at Frank's mouth and something light in his eyes in the split second before Frank closes the distance between them and kisses him.
It's like someone pulled out the stopper on Gerard's desire and it all comes flooding out in rush. The moment Frank's lips meet his, his mouth slides open, slipping his tongue in to find Frank's and kissing him back. Their harsh nasal breathing and the shuffle of their feet on the concrete as they push to get closer sounds too loud in the empty bathroom, but Gerard doesn't care. Frank's kissing him hard, locking fingers in his hair, the pressure of his hand on the back of Gerard's neck holding him in.
Fuck, it's hot. It's so fucking hot. He doesn't even know Frank's last name and he could care less. Frank's pressing up against him, rubbing on him as his teeth drag over Gerard's lip. The noise that leaks out of their mouths is needy and way too loud but Gerard doesn't have the brain space to be embarrassed. Frank presses him back into the wall, shoving a leg between Gerard's and grinding up on him. It feels fucking exquisite and Gerard's hands find their way to Frank's ass, squeezing as Frank writhes up against him.
Frank is all hands, mouth and twitching, writhing body. His skin is hot everywhere it touches Gerard's, like he's burning up and Gerard feels the same. He breaks the kiss, panting into Frank's neck, one hand coming up to lock in Frank's hair.
Fuck, he has to get it together. His whole body is on fire and it feels like he could come in his pants any moment. Frank, not realizing Gerard needs a time-out, keeps tormenting him. He licks a stripe up under Gerard's chin before sucking on his earlobe, wrenching a deep moan from Gerard that could probably be heard outside on the other side of the park. He heaves his body up against Gerard's with enough force that Gerard slams back against the wall and fuck, fuck he has to get his pants open rightfuckingnow.
He scrambles for his belt, not really thinking beyond damage control, but Frank sees the motion and copies it, struggling for his own belt which is pink and made of webbing. Frank gets his pants open before Gerard does, because Gerard's wearing the Batman belt buckle which always gets stuck and what the fuck was he thinking wearing this fucking belt when he's trying to get laid? Whatever the answer to that question is, it's lost when Frank's jeans come open and he shoves them carelessly down his thighs because fuck he's not wearing and underwear and... that's his cock. Gerard can see Frank's cock, and it's hard and red, thick and short and Gerard can't stop looking at it.
Frank no doubt notices he's being stared at, the way Gerard freezes, hands stuck on his belt, drinking in the sight of the man in front of him. Frank gives Gerard a smirking grin before reaching down to palm himself, wrapping his fingers around his fat dick and stroking. His eyes slide close as he does it, his mouth twisted into a shape that's part smile, part grimace. It's all fucking gorgeous.
Gerard devours the sight a moment longer, reminding his hands to move and he finally gets his fucking jeans open. He pushes down his underwear, not even caring that all his soft white flesh is on display; he's so hard, he's so totally turned on. The grip of his own hand on his dick is familiar and he falls into a slow stroking rhythm, the kind he uses when he wants to draw it out, when he has too much time to kill.
His eyes dance over Frank's body, lingering on every snatch of exposed flesh. He can see swallows inked into the skin of Frank's belly and there's damp dots of sweat scattered across the curve of his neck. Gerard's eyes keep fixing on Frank's dick, the strangely casual hold he has on it, the completely comfortable rhythm of his strokes. Mostly he gets stuck on Frank's face though, the shine of sweat on his upper lip, the dark roots of his hair along his hairline where it's growing out, his loose mouth, hanging open as he pants out his breath, his heavy lidded gaze that's twitching between Gerard's face and his cock.
It's such a fucking pretty sight, but Gerard's greedy, he wants to do more than look. He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, choking back a gargling groan, before leaning forward, tilting his head in invitation. Frank's kissing him again in seconds, hard, wet and desperate, their teeth clashing as Frank pushes in closer, pressing in until their chests are brushing and their hands and cocks are bumping. Gerard moans into Frank's mouth at the erratic contact and the next thing he knows, Frank's fingers are joining his on his cock, sliding down his shaft, slick with precome. Gerard has to break the kiss, his back slamming back against the wall hard, as a moan bubbles from his mouth.
"Fuck." He gasps, "Fuck."
Frank tightens his grip, working his hand over Gerard's cock and jesusfuckingchrist he can't breathe. He sucks in a shuddering breath, twitching and shaking, grabbing Frank by the back of the neck and kissing him deep and desperate.
Frank doesn't let up, if anything he speeds his hand, pulling on Gerard's dick as he kisses him all to fuck and goddamn it this is going to be over so soon it's embarrassing.
"Frank." He whines against wet lips, groping uselessly for Frank's cock, feeling selfish and greedy and like such a dud fuck for not returning the favor; but Frank hands aren't stopping. He's working Gerard's cock as he kisses him hard, grinding him into the wall and Gerard can feel Frank's hard-on pushing hot and damp at his thigh. Gerard wrenches his head back, letting out a screeching breath with a moan on the end of it as his head bangs against the wall. Frank presses his face into Gerard's neck, nibbling the skin gently as he tortures Gerard with wicked hands until he's shaking and shuddering, the hard surface at his back the only thing keeping him upright.
Shit, shit. It's coming, like a motherfucking freight train, his body floods with heat and his cock throbs under Frank's fingers. He tries to utter a warning but all that comes out is a loud shout as his balls draw up, Frank bites down on his ear and quickens his stroke and that's it, Gerard comes, shooting white streaks out of his cock as he groans long and loud, his body going molten under Frank's hands. Frank face is still pressed into in Gerard's neck, his hot breath pushing into Gerard's overheated skin as he slowly strokes Gerard down from his climax. Every neuron in his body is firing at once, he feels hot and sweaty and so fucking alive.
Frank's still rubbing against him, hips shifting like he's not even aware he's doing it, his cock painting streaks of precome over Gerard's stomach. Gerard tosses his head, trying to shake loose from his afterglow stupor. He clenches his hands into fists, then splays his fingers. Convinced his hands are working again, he slides them up over Frank's ass, around his waist and finds his cock.
It's weird, he's never really touched another guy's cock before. He's fooled around with dudes but it never really got much further than mutual grinding, so being skin to skin with an unfamiliar dick is disconcerting. But It's also kind of amazing, particularly when Frank tips his head back, his eyes slit and flashing desire at Gerard as Gerard finds his grip. Frank's dick is definitely thicker than Gerard's and he has to adjust his hold to get his thumb in the right spot. He knows when he's got it because Frank slumps against him, pushing out a breathy moan.
"Yeah, fuck yeah. That's it." Frank licks his lips, his mouth still open and Gerard can't stop looking at it; his lips are pink, wet and shiny with spit and fuck, Gerard just wants to bite them. He strokes up Frank's dick, spreading precome over the silky-slick skin of his shaft. Frank's dick clenches under his hand, feeling suddenly harder and bigger and Gerard has to bite down on his lip as something hot uncoils inside him.
He presses Frank back so he's leaning against the wall and he goes easily, panting hard with a breathy moan slipping out on the end of each breath. He tips his head back, displaying the white skin of his throat, as he humps up to meet Gerard's hand.
"Fuuuuck." Frank moans, throwing up a careless arm and his hand lands on the side of Gerard's face, his thumb over Gerard's lips. Gerard sucks it into his mouth, tasting salt and reveling in the throaty noise it pulls from Frank's mouth. Fuck, he's doing this, he's getting Frank to make those noises, to look that way, all heavy-eyed and fuck-ready. It's completely amazing. If he hadn't just come he'd be so lost.
Frank slides his thumb out of Gerard's mouth, smearing saliva across his chin as he grabs Gerard by the back of the neck and yanks him in for a kiss. When their lips meet it's wet and messy, Frank's kissing Gerard like he wants to eat him and Gerard gives it all back with lips, tongue and teeth. He quickens his hand, slipping into a breakneck rhythm and stiffening his thumb so it's rubbing hard in all the right spots. Frank moans into his mouth, a high pitched whine and yeah, Gerard's good at this, he's had nothing else for months and he's turned it into a fucking art.
Frank breaks the kiss with a bubbling moan, nearly head-butting Gerard when he bucks forward, shoving his hips into Gerard's hand. He's panting hard into Gerard's face, chanting curses and compliments like it's pouring straight from his brain. Gerard presses him back into the wall with his body, aiming Frank's cock so the sensitive head presses into Gerard's belly, sliding over the skin as he forces his hand to move so fast his arm protests. That does it, Frank makes a noise like he's dying, his hips leaping forwards once, twice, three times, then he 's pulsing and convulsing in Gerard's hand, the hot shoot of come hitting Gerard's stomach as he watches Frank's eyes flutter and his face distort.
Frank slams his sweaty head into Gerard's neck, fingers clutching so tight it's almost painful on Gerard's shoulder and neck. He panting, whispering "Fuck, jesus. Fuck." into Gerard's neck as Gerard strokes him slowly out of it. Frank's stopped whispering by the time Gerard lets go of his softening cock, wiping his hand off on his stomach. Frank arches up under him, claiming Gerard's mouth in a slow, lazy kiss and mashing their bodies together. Gerard kisses back, his fingers digging into Frank's back, losing himself in it for a few more moments and trying not to think about what comes next.
When they finally break apart, Frank looks wrecked. His cheeks are flushed red, his hair is a sweaty clumped mess and his lips are red and swollen from kissing. He's the best thing Gerard's ever seen and he has no idea what to say to him.
Luckily, Frank speaks first. "Fuck man. Holy fuck, dude. You're really good at that."
Gerard can feel his already warm face growing hotter. "I've ah... I've had some practice."
"No shit." Frank grins wide, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water as he wiggles his jeans back on and zips them up. It's a shame to see all that skin get covered up and Gerard supposes he'd better pull his pants back up too. He wipes half-heartedly at the spunk on his belly before Frank spins some tissue off the toilet roll and steps closer to wipe him off with the rough paper.
"Thanks." He mutters, eyes sticking on Frank's face, drinking in all the details while Frank's looking down. The dark curve of his eyelashes, the shiny silver of his lip ring, Gerard still can't believe he just got off with this guy, he's so fucking hot. Frank glances up and catches Gerard staring. It takes every last ounce of Gerard's willpower not to look away from the intense green eyes looking up at him. He probably only pulls it off because he's still riding a high from his orgasm. He gives Frank a shaky smile and pulls his underwear up, squeezing back into his jeans. The press of denim against his still sensitized skin feels too warm and suffocating.
"Hey, so," Frank licks his lips, balling up the paper and tossing it at the toilet. "If you ever want to, like, do that again-"
"Yes." The word shoots out of Gerard's mouth without his permission, cutting Frank off mid sentence. Gerard swears inwardly, chewing hard on his lip.
Frank barks out a laugh and smiles wide. "Okay. Cool." He steps into Gerard's space again, slipping his fingers between Gerard's and holding tight. "That's cool." He kisses Gerard, slow and gentle, and Gerard melts into it, his fingers curling tightly into Frank's shoulder. By the time they peel themselves apart he's breathing heavy again, and he can't stop running his eyes over Frank with his pretty mouth and his stupid yellow hair.
"Um, so we should..." Frank nods his head toward the door and Gerard realizes he's blocking their exit.
"Oh. Right. Yeah." Gerard shakes his head, shuffling out of the way so Frank can slip the lock and let them out. He digs through his mind for something to say as they slip out of the stall but he comes up with zero. He calculates the distance to the exit and decides he has less than twenty seconds to get a clue before they're out the door and he's missed his chance.
He doesn't count on Frank showing no interest at all in leaving, instead digging through his pockets until he finds a black marker.
"Gimme your arm." Frank says, wiggling his fingers in a 'come here' motion.
Gerard sticks out his arm obediently. He's not going to let himself believe this really is what is looks like it is; not until Frank's fingers have encircled his wrist in a tight grip and he's scrawling numbers up Gerard's forearm. The pen tip is wet and it tickles. Gerard fights a manic smile, a mad hysteria clawing at his chest because holy shit Frank is giving Gerard his number. This is huge. So much bigger than he's ready to handle.
Frank finishes writing with an artful wrist flick, glancing up from his handiwork to look at Gerard with a slight furrow between his eyebrows and the pen cap sticking out the side of his mouth.
"If you don't use that, I'm gonna be pissed." He warns, the words slightly slurred around the cap as he shoves the pen back into it without even taking it out of his mouth.
Gerard glances down at the string of numbers inked onto his skin, they take up nearly his entire forearm.
"No, no." The words stumble out of Gerard's mouth and he corrects himself. "I mean, yeah of course. I mean, I'll totally-" Gerard stops, takes a breath, and tries again. "I'll totally use it."
"Good." Frank pulls the pen out of his mouth with a pop and sticks it in his back pocket. He's grinning in a way that pulls his mouth up further on one side than the other, his eyes sparking as he slips in close to Gerard and kisses him soft and quick, like a promise.
It's over too fast, Gerard barely gets to taste him before Frank's sliding back and running his finger down the numbers on Gerard's forearm. "See you soon, Gerard." He taps the numbers with his finger, sending Gerard one last smile before he turns on heel and scuffs his way outside, kicking a piece of trash out of the way as he goes.
Gerard watches Frank's retreating back until he's completely out of sight, then he stares down at his arm for a solid minute until the numbers blur together. Then, and only then, does he cover his mouth and squeal into his hand, smiling so wide his teeth press into his palm.
***
Mikey is exactly where Gerard left him, the only change in the tableau since Gerard left is there's a different Romero flick on the screen and a few additional food wrappers on the floor beside the couch. Mikey glances up when Gerard stumbles in, taking in his rumpled appearance with a swift flick of his eyes.
"You got laid?"
Gerard would be offended by the degree of disbelief in the statement if it wasn't completely justified.
Gerard starts to open his mouth, but Mikey throws up a hand. "Don't tell me. Really. I don't want details. But good on you." He claps quietly, his mouth skewed to the side in a way that means he's fighting not to laugh. "I hope you were careful."
"Jesus Mikes." Gerard presses a palm to his eyes because really, he doesn't need to be getting sex advice from his three years younger brother. The movement just draws Mikey's eye to the numbers scrawled up Gerard's arm. Which is Gerard's cue to leave, preferably before Mikey gets his mouth open, because this can only get worse.
He's halfway to the stairs when Mikey yells after him, "You better call that number Gee!"
"I'll fucking call it, Mikey." He shouts at the ceiling as he thumps down the stairs.
"You better." Mikey warns, still shouting from the living room.
"I will!" Gerard yells up the stairs and slams his door, shutting out his brother and his stupid know it all voice.
He kicks off his shoes and peels off his jeans and shirt; crawling onto his bed in just his shorts which still smell like spunk. He pulls the nearest sketchbook from the mess on his floor, flips to an empty page and copies Frank's number down in clear thick strokes. Twice, just to be sure he gets it right.
Hugging the sketchbook to his chest, he flops back into the soft mattress, closing his eyes and thinking of green eyes and yellow hair.
~end
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