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Entry tags:
Fic: The Price Of Pretty [2/3] (MCR, Frank/Gerard)
HAPPY IEROWEEN! In honour of Frank's birthday I bring you smut. Yeah I know Frankie, just what you've always wanted. But you get to TOP in this one! Ok you can thank me later...
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Title: The Price Of Pretty - Part 2/3
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R/NC-17.
Length: 3.3k (this part)
Warnings: Sex. D/s. Bad language.
Summary: On the night of the 2005 VMA's, Dom!Frank comes up with a creative way to punish sub!gerard for just looking way too good. Smutty smutty sex ensues.
Author’s Notes: So this was supposed to be a dirty little one shot PWP to distract me from the multi-part AU I'm writing. Except it kinda grew a plot and got long and multi-part itself. JESUS. I can't win. Heavily inspired by this picture because seriously just LOOK at that.
Disclaimer: While the MTV Music Video Awards did happen in 2005, I can pretty much guarantee nothing described in the following did. I can only wish.
Previous Chapter: Part One
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Title: The Price Of Pretty - Part 2/3
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R/NC-17.
Length: 3.3k (this part)
Warnings: Sex. D/s. Bad language.
Summary: On the night of the 2005 VMA's, Dom!Frank comes up with a creative way to punish sub!gerard for just looking way too good. Smutty smutty sex ensues.
Author’s Notes: So this was supposed to be a dirty little one shot PWP to distract me from the multi-part AU I'm writing. Except it kinda grew a plot and got long and multi-part itself. JESUS. I can't win. Heavily inspired by this picture because seriously just LOOK at that.
Disclaimer: While the MTV Music Video Awards did happen in 2005, I can pretty much guarantee nothing described in the following did. I can only wish.
Previous Chapter: Part One
Gerard finishes strapping himself into his bullet proof vest, checking himself in the mirror to make sure everything's in place. The Gee in the mirror looks good. Looks ready. With one final hair fuss he heads for the door, trailing in the wake of Ray and Bob who've just left the dressing room on their way down to the green room. He's nearly to the door when he hears a voice. Frank's voice.
"So I was thinking. About the after party." The tone of command in Frank's voice stills Gerard's feet immediately. Something warm twists low in his belly as he turns to face his bandmate, who's perched on the arm of one of the very clean dressing room couches. Frank's leaning comfortably, his tone for all intents and purposes casual, but that voice he's using... That's his game voice. Gerard knows that voice, he's heard it in many situations - shoved up against a wall - on his knees with a mouth full of dick - naked, flat on his back, cock deep inside him.
His legs start to feel liquid, heartbeat picking up pace. They're due in the green room right now and due on stage in less than half an hour. Surely Frank's not going to start something now? Even as the panicked thought flits through his mind he knows he's wrong. Of course Frank's going to start something now. He loves to catch Gerard off guard, pull something at the last minute that leaves them both gasping for air and running late.
"Get the door." Frank instructs simply, all traces of casual lost from his voice.
Absently, Gerard reaches behind him for the door, shoving it closed with a light slam.
"We're due in the green room now." Gerard's voice is low and soft, a gentle reminder, not an argument. His gaze has dropped to the ground in front of him, studying the too-white carpet in front of his chucks. He's fallen into a submissive posture without even really thinking, it's so automatic, triggering at Frank's authoritative tone.
Frank's red chucks appear, stepping into the patch of carpet Gerard's staring at. Frank's right in front of him now, giving him a noseful of his scent, a tangy aftershave with an underlying musk of sweat and heat. Frank runs hot all the time, thrumming and vibrating with an energy that he never seems to fully burn off. He'd be warm in that suit, that gorgeous three piece suit he's sporting with a casual grace so easy he could be wearing cutoffs. He'll only get warmer when they get on stage.
"I know that. Slut." Frank's voice is gravelly, brooking no argument. Heat uncoils in Gerard's belly as Frank stalks around him, drinking in the sight of him from every angle. At least he imagines that's what Frank's doing, Gerard's eyes are still trained on the floor.
"Are you in such a rush to go and sit on your ass in the green room?" There's a tease in Frank's voice now. "You just wanna enjoy some time sitting down before I spank your ass raw tonight, do you?" Frank's hands grip Gerard's ass and squeeze, trumpeting a reminder to Gerard of what he's yet to face tonight, of what his ass has yet to endure. His eyes fall shut, head dropping forward even further as a thick liquid heat courses through him.
Jesus fuck, he'd been doing so well. He'd made it through the awards ceremony so far without thinking too much about Frank's game. He'd even managed to enjoy himself for the most part, his mind only occasionally skittering across thoughts of what was to come at the end of the night. It didn't matter so much when those thoughts struck him in the low light of the theatre, the noise of the show and crowd covering his accelerated breathing, the heat in his cheeks.
Under the bright lights of the dressing room every symptom of his arousal was on show for Frank, from his sharp breaths to his pinkening cheeks, to his ever-tightening jeans.
Frank's feet still, settling in front of Gerard, back inside his patch of carpet. Two fingertips press under Gerard's chin and he looks up, vision full of Frank's face, his assessing eyes, the hard line of his mouth.
"How many?" Frank asks, the question now familiar, generating heat, spiking Gerard's heartbeat.
Gerard meets Frank's lidded gaze levelly. "Twenty seven." He struggles not to do the math as his lips form the number. He doesn't want to acknowledge that other, much higher number, just yet.
Frank raises an eyebrow, considering. "It's slowing down."
"With the awards, there's not much-" Gerard's rush to explain is cut short but firm grip of Frank's fingers on his jaw.
"Did I ask you a question, slut?" Frank's eyes are sparking fire as he spits out the words, authority in every line of him and Gerard's trembling from it. He loves Frank like this, all tough, hot attitude and tearing him down. Taking charge and pulling him in line.
Not willing to risk speaking out of turn, Gerard just shakes his head, slowly and gently, as Frank's still cupping his jaw.
"If I want an opinion I'll fucking ask for it." Frank retorts, all fired up and annoyed.
Gerard's watches him carefully. Frank's eyes keep dropping to Gerard's mouth. Frank's itching to kiss him, Gerard knows this. He also knows Frank wont, not now, it would be too much like a reward for talking back. Frank settles for just pressing his thumb on Gerard's lower lip, pulling it down slightly, toying with the plump flesh.
Without really thinking about it, Gerard's tongue slips out, brushing across Frank's thumb, tasting salt. Frank's eyes flutter and soften a little, emboldening Gerard to shift forward and suck Frank's thumb into his mouth, bathing it with his tongue, lightly scraping it with his teeth. Frank's swaying a little on his feet in response, eyes sliding shut, breathing picking up, loud and audible in the quiet room. Frank's lost his train of thought completely now, hijacked by sensation. Gerard pushes it further, sucking right down to the base of Frank's thumb, nuzzling at his hand. Frank's free hand comes to rest on Gerard's hip, tightening his fingers to grip on as Frank tries to keep his balance.
Gerard can tell it's taking everything Frank has not to just throw him up against the wall and ravish him right now. He's not entirely sure why he's doing this, it's never a good idea to undermine Frank when he's in game mode, but he can't help it. Frank's just too fucking delicious not to taste.
A sharp intake of breath from Frank and a jerk of head upright signals his return to form. He pulls his thumb from Gerard's mouth, swiping the wet tip across those sinful lips.
"You just can't help yourself can you?" Gerard doesn't answer. He knows he's not supposed to. "I was going to make you an offer. But I'm not sure if you deserve it. You're not being very well behaved."
Gerard's eyes fall to the floor again, head bowing automatically, trying belatedly to earn his way back into Frank's good graces. Another offer could make a big difference to his total, hopefully he hasn't blown it.
"Now what was I saying before you started mouth-fucking my hand?" It's a hypothetical question really, but Gerard answers it anyway, trying to be so helpful.
"The after party. You've been thinking about it."
A wicked grin lights Frank's face as he remembers. Gerard can't see it, but he can hear it in Frank's voice when he says,
"Right. The after party." Frank's in motion then, stalking around Gerard as he speaks. "There's gonna be a lot people there. Drunk people. Horny people." He stops to stand behind Gerard, hands resting on Gerard's shoulders, leaning in to speak near his ear. "They're gonna want you. Be checking you out. Hitting on you. Telling you how pretty you are."
He's so fucking right. Gerard's been avoiding thinking about the after party. He knows he's gonna earn more points in ten minutes than he has the whole night and he's not looking forward to it. So far he's been dealing with it by not dealing with it, but Frank's solution will probably be better. Though it'll come at a cost.
Gerard's breath is hissing through his teeth. He's waiting for Frank to continue. The weight of Frank's hands on his shoulders is sending heat down his body. His eyes flicker up from the floor for a moment, catching briefly on the television in the corner, muted, showing the awards broadcast. Reminding him how little time they have, they should be in the green room right now, Brian will be flipping. But Gerard's not moving, not a fucking chance. He's got to hear this.
Frank takes a breath before he continues, his words puffing warm air on the back of Gerard's neck.
"I'm willing to adjust our counting system. I'm thinking that compliments at the after party shouldn't be worth five strikes." A warm hand on Gerard's ass now as Frank continues to speak. "I think they should just be worth one. Does that sound fair?" He asks innocently.
Gerard's eyes spark open. His mind leaps excitedly. Hell yeah, that sounds fucking fair. It sounds better than fair. He stumbles over himself to answer,
"Yeah - yes. It sounds fair. Yes. Yes, I agree." Trying to keep his voice level, not show his excitement.
Frank's body presses closer behind him, leaning in to whisper in his ear and Gerard can hear the smirking smile in his voice.
"Aren't we quick to agree? But you haven't heard it all yet."
Gerard’s stomach sinks. Of course there is more. This generosity wont come without a price.
"I'd be doing you a big fucking favour if grant you this. I expect a favour in return." So much heat in Frank's voice, right in Gerard's ear. Frank's arms slide around to hold Gerard, gripping across his chest and hips tightly and possessively.
"What favour?" Gerard's voice is shaky, with nerves but also with lust. The way Frank's pressing into him is setting off every pleasure sensor in his body, he's very quickly liquefying under Frank's touch.
"I want to see you come. Before we go on stage. You gotta come for me." Gerard nearly crumbles in Frank's arms, the words striking him in two directions, sending a bolt of heat straight to his cock even as his brain starts freaking out at the very idea of taking up Frank's offer. Fuck. He should've seen this coming. Frank's got him bailed up in the fucking dressing room how could he not have seen it coming? But there's no time. They have to perform soon. They need to be gone and now.
Gerard's heart is beating fit to burst, panic rising up inside him. His first instinct is to run, get away from Frank and his mad dangerous schemes, get to the fucking green room before Brian comes looking for them.
But the offer. Oh fuck the offer is so good. One strike per compliment for the entire after party. It would take all the hell out of the after party for him, erase so much dread from the night to come.
Frank's whispering in his ear, voice a steady stream of wickedness and Gerard's starting to cave, heat in his cock fighting to overrule his mind, turning down the volume on the screaming panic.
"It's a good offer. You should take it. Just imagine how much less your ass will be hurting when I fuck you tonight." Gerard's eyes roll back at this, mouth falling slack, Frank's voice just undoing him. "And I will fuck you tonight. Your ass will be red and raw and hot to touch when I'm fucking it, still stinging when I'm ramming inside you and you'll fucking take it and you'll fucking love it."
"Oh fuck Frank..." Gerard's voice is pained, he's struggling with so much. Struggling to stay upright, to keep his head on, to achieve some semblance of professionalism for the band at one of the biggest awards nights they've been nominated at. He's trying, so hard, to remember why they shouldn't do this here. Now.
But in the end Frank wins. Frank always wins.
Gerard's admission of defeat is a spin on his feet to face Frank, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss, pushing him back against the closed door. Gerard's reaching to flip the lock on the door when Frank grabs his arm, breaking the kiss to admonish him.
"No locking the door." The hard command in Frank's voice just turns Gerard on more, even as a voice in his brain screams at him about getting busted, barely registering above the surging roar of desire.
Gerard just slams his lips on Frank's again, turning their bodies so it's his back against the door. Not much of a defence if someone really wants to get in (there is no keeping Brian out when he's pissed off) but it would buy him a few seconds and give him something to hide behind if it came to that.
Sucking on Frank's tongue, his hands scrabble for his belt. His cock is pressing insistently at his fly now, rigid from Frank's wicked diatribe. He fumbles his button open and the zip scrapes down then he's pushing the way-too-tight pants down his thighs distractedly, underwear too, releasing his pale cock to the air-conditioned cool air. He's so hard he's amazed there's any blood left in his brain to work his hand as he grabs his dick and squeezes. He has to break the kiss with Frank to sigh out his pleasure. He's not jerking just yet, not straight away, he's just holding himself firmly, revelling in his own tight grip.
"You gonna jerk that?" Frank whispers heatedly, leaning back from Gerard to take in the view. Gerard's leaning back on the wall, fist around his cock, clothing covering him from neck to feet except for the expanse of white skin from his hips to his thighs. Frank reaches up to tuck Gerard's front shirttails up under his bulletproof vest, clearing a free path to Gerard's cock for his hungry eyes.
Gerard nods distractedly in answer to Frank's question, rubbing his hand over his cock, polishing the tip. He's leaking precome, which he spreads around, loving the way it makes his hand slide over the soft taut skin of his erection. His head is lolling back with the pleasure of it all, eyes half closed and unfocused.
"Oh fuck yeah." Frank growls appreciatively, pulling a chair over and dropping down into it, leaning forward on his knees and just watching intently, eyes roving over Gerard, devouring the view. "That's right stroke it. Fuck how good does that feel?"
"So good. So fucking good." Gerard's gasping out, eyes fluttering closed. His whole body is swaying as he milks himself, his breath coming in gasps.
"Look at me. I wanna see your eyes. This is my fucking show, slut." Gerard's eyes snap open at Frank's order, locking onto Frank and jesus, he could come from that look. Frank's so hungry, possessive, so ridiculously turned on. Every inch of Gerard's exposed skin is zinging with sensation, like Frank's gaze is a physical caress. He jerks faster, tightening his grip, moaning as he does, thankful for the solidity of the door behind him or he'd be on the floor by now.
Footsteps in the hall outside and his heartbeat spikes. His hand pumps harder, faster, worrying it's Brian come looking for them, fuck could he get off now, right now, before Brian gets the door open? He doesn't think so but he's gonna try, his strokes amping up faster, breath stuttering, hand a blur of movement.
He hears the voices outside that match the footsteps. Female. Thank fuck for that.
The panic's done nothing but feed his desire and when he drags his eyes back to Frank his breath hitches. Frank's staring at him greedily, his hands gripping his knees, gnawing on his lip, expression of pure want on his face. Gerard's hips arch up off the wall, humping his hand as he strokes his cock, biting his lip and swallowing moans. He's on fire, his whole existence fixated on his throbbing cock, Frank's gaze eating up the sight of him. He's humping and rolling and bucking in his hand, not sure how this could get any hotter when Frank opens his mouth and it does.
"That's right baby, that's fucking right. Jerk it. Come on milk it for me. You look so fucking hot right now. So gorgeous you can't even keep your hands to yourself. Such a slut. Such a pretty slut."
Gerard has to slap his free hand over his mouth to contain keening moans. He's pumping his cock now, the building throb in his groin alerting him that he's close, so close to completion. Frank's voice is rolling over him in a steady stream, drawing him over the line.
"Oh fuck you're nearly there aren't you? Come on, fucking come for me you greedy slut. Just let go. Just fucking lose it."
It's Frank's voice that undoes him. He's pounding his hips, frantically pulling at his length, moaning and panting and then FUCK. It's upon him, he's coming, hips jerking up, biting back a scream and shooting cream onto the too-fucking-white carpet.
Gerard collapses forward, leaning on his knees and panting as Frank approaches. Frank plants his feet on Gerard's spatter and grinds it into the carpet with his chucks. He tugs a woozy Gerard upright, grabbing his hands and raising them to his face. Slowly, so slowly, he licks Gerard's palms and fingers, cleaning off the last of the spunk, the taste of Gerard heavy in his mouth.
"That was so. Fucking. Hot." He states between licks. Gerard snorts, still flying high from his orgasm, feeling flushed and mussed and oh so buzzed. He's grinning madly at Frank, not quite back on the ground yet. Frank just wants to fuck him through the door, but a glance at the TV in the corner tells him they're way overdue so he helps Gerard dress instead, trying not to touch him too much, resisting the urge to stroke that heated skin that's screaming for his attention.
A rapid loud knock and suddenly the door is opening. Gerard leans back against it in a panic, scrabbling to get his zip done up and his belt buckled as Brian's annoyed yell fires in from outside.
"Do you want us to perform without a vocalist and rhythm guitarist? GET THE FUCK OUT!"
Frank holds the door closed for the extra ten seconds it takes Gerard to get his belt done up, trying to soothe Brian out there on the other side.
"Just a fucking minute alright?"
Gerard nods at him that he's okay to go now. Frank's eyes give him a once over, he can't see anything out of place (well aside from the heightened colour in Gerard's cheeks and the slightly sweaty mussed look to his hair, which he'll get away with). He returns Gerard's nod, but doesn't open the door until after he's delivered his lover with one brief possessive kiss, communicating all his pent up desire and making so many promises about where the night will end.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight." He states hungrily, turning away to open the door before Gerard can respond. So quick, he doesn't get to see the look of utter want telegraphing from Gerard's face, in spite of his recent orgasm.
Then they're being bustled down the hall by a very put-out Brian and pushed into the green room (where they still have to wait another ten minutes anyway).
If anyone in the band notices that Gerard's voice is a bit hoarser, a bit throatier than usual when they perform "Helena", they don't say anything. That his movements are somehow a bit more fluid, a bit looser than normal doesn't rate a mention either. If it's possible, Frank is more amped he's ever been, vibrating energy, playing so hard his arms might fall off, jumping and bouncing off every surface.
If Ray, Mikey or Bob notice, they don't comment, and they certainly don't deign to think what it might mean.
Concluded in Part 3
"So I was thinking. About the after party." The tone of command in Frank's voice stills Gerard's feet immediately. Something warm twists low in his belly as he turns to face his bandmate, who's perched on the arm of one of the very clean dressing room couches. Frank's leaning comfortably, his tone for all intents and purposes casual, but that voice he's using... That's his game voice. Gerard knows that voice, he's heard it in many situations - shoved up against a wall - on his knees with a mouth full of dick - naked, flat on his back, cock deep inside him.
His legs start to feel liquid, heartbeat picking up pace. They're due in the green room right now and due on stage in less than half an hour. Surely Frank's not going to start something now? Even as the panicked thought flits through his mind he knows he's wrong. Of course Frank's going to start something now. He loves to catch Gerard off guard, pull something at the last minute that leaves them both gasping for air and running late.
"Get the door." Frank instructs simply, all traces of casual lost from his voice.
Absently, Gerard reaches behind him for the door, shoving it closed with a light slam.
"We're due in the green room now." Gerard's voice is low and soft, a gentle reminder, not an argument. His gaze has dropped to the ground in front of him, studying the too-white carpet in front of his chucks. He's fallen into a submissive posture without even really thinking, it's so automatic, triggering at Frank's authoritative tone.
Frank's red chucks appear, stepping into the patch of carpet Gerard's staring at. Frank's right in front of him now, giving him a noseful of his scent, a tangy aftershave with an underlying musk of sweat and heat. Frank runs hot all the time, thrumming and vibrating with an energy that he never seems to fully burn off. He'd be warm in that suit, that gorgeous three piece suit he's sporting with a casual grace so easy he could be wearing cutoffs. He'll only get warmer when they get on stage.
"I know that. Slut." Frank's voice is gravelly, brooking no argument. Heat uncoils in Gerard's belly as Frank stalks around him, drinking in the sight of him from every angle. At least he imagines that's what Frank's doing, Gerard's eyes are still trained on the floor.
"Are you in such a rush to go and sit on your ass in the green room?" There's a tease in Frank's voice now. "You just wanna enjoy some time sitting down before I spank your ass raw tonight, do you?" Frank's hands grip Gerard's ass and squeeze, trumpeting a reminder to Gerard of what he's yet to face tonight, of what his ass has yet to endure. His eyes fall shut, head dropping forward even further as a thick liquid heat courses through him.
Jesus fuck, he'd been doing so well. He'd made it through the awards ceremony so far without thinking too much about Frank's game. He'd even managed to enjoy himself for the most part, his mind only occasionally skittering across thoughts of what was to come at the end of the night. It didn't matter so much when those thoughts struck him in the low light of the theatre, the noise of the show and crowd covering his accelerated breathing, the heat in his cheeks.
Under the bright lights of the dressing room every symptom of his arousal was on show for Frank, from his sharp breaths to his pinkening cheeks, to his ever-tightening jeans.
Frank's feet still, settling in front of Gerard, back inside his patch of carpet. Two fingertips press under Gerard's chin and he looks up, vision full of Frank's face, his assessing eyes, the hard line of his mouth.
"How many?" Frank asks, the question now familiar, generating heat, spiking Gerard's heartbeat.
Gerard meets Frank's lidded gaze levelly. "Twenty seven." He struggles not to do the math as his lips form the number. He doesn't want to acknowledge that other, much higher number, just yet.
Frank raises an eyebrow, considering. "It's slowing down."
"With the awards, there's not much-" Gerard's rush to explain is cut short but firm grip of Frank's fingers on his jaw.
"Did I ask you a question, slut?" Frank's eyes are sparking fire as he spits out the words, authority in every line of him and Gerard's trembling from it. He loves Frank like this, all tough, hot attitude and tearing him down. Taking charge and pulling him in line.
Not willing to risk speaking out of turn, Gerard just shakes his head, slowly and gently, as Frank's still cupping his jaw.
"If I want an opinion I'll fucking ask for it." Frank retorts, all fired up and annoyed.
Gerard's watches him carefully. Frank's eyes keep dropping to Gerard's mouth. Frank's itching to kiss him, Gerard knows this. He also knows Frank wont, not now, it would be too much like a reward for talking back. Frank settles for just pressing his thumb on Gerard's lower lip, pulling it down slightly, toying with the plump flesh.
Without really thinking about it, Gerard's tongue slips out, brushing across Frank's thumb, tasting salt. Frank's eyes flutter and soften a little, emboldening Gerard to shift forward and suck Frank's thumb into his mouth, bathing it with his tongue, lightly scraping it with his teeth. Frank's swaying a little on his feet in response, eyes sliding shut, breathing picking up, loud and audible in the quiet room. Frank's lost his train of thought completely now, hijacked by sensation. Gerard pushes it further, sucking right down to the base of Frank's thumb, nuzzling at his hand. Frank's free hand comes to rest on Gerard's hip, tightening his fingers to grip on as Frank tries to keep his balance.
Gerard can tell it's taking everything Frank has not to just throw him up against the wall and ravish him right now. He's not entirely sure why he's doing this, it's never a good idea to undermine Frank when he's in game mode, but he can't help it. Frank's just too fucking delicious not to taste.
A sharp intake of breath from Frank and a jerk of head upright signals his return to form. He pulls his thumb from Gerard's mouth, swiping the wet tip across those sinful lips.
"You just can't help yourself can you?" Gerard doesn't answer. He knows he's not supposed to. "I was going to make you an offer. But I'm not sure if you deserve it. You're not being very well behaved."
Gerard's eyes fall to the floor again, head bowing automatically, trying belatedly to earn his way back into Frank's good graces. Another offer could make a big difference to his total, hopefully he hasn't blown it.
"Now what was I saying before you started mouth-fucking my hand?" It's a hypothetical question really, but Gerard answers it anyway, trying to be so helpful.
"The after party. You've been thinking about it."
A wicked grin lights Frank's face as he remembers. Gerard can't see it, but he can hear it in Frank's voice when he says,
"Right. The after party." Frank's in motion then, stalking around Gerard as he speaks. "There's gonna be a lot people there. Drunk people. Horny people." He stops to stand behind Gerard, hands resting on Gerard's shoulders, leaning in to speak near his ear. "They're gonna want you. Be checking you out. Hitting on you. Telling you how pretty you are."
He's so fucking right. Gerard's been avoiding thinking about the after party. He knows he's gonna earn more points in ten minutes than he has the whole night and he's not looking forward to it. So far he's been dealing with it by not dealing with it, but Frank's solution will probably be better. Though it'll come at a cost.
Gerard's breath is hissing through his teeth. He's waiting for Frank to continue. The weight of Frank's hands on his shoulders is sending heat down his body. His eyes flicker up from the floor for a moment, catching briefly on the television in the corner, muted, showing the awards broadcast. Reminding him how little time they have, they should be in the green room right now, Brian will be flipping. But Gerard's not moving, not a fucking chance. He's got to hear this.
Frank takes a breath before he continues, his words puffing warm air on the back of Gerard's neck.
"I'm willing to adjust our counting system. I'm thinking that compliments at the after party shouldn't be worth five strikes." A warm hand on Gerard's ass now as Frank continues to speak. "I think they should just be worth one. Does that sound fair?" He asks innocently.
Gerard's eyes spark open. His mind leaps excitedly. Hell yeah, that sounds fucking fair. It sounds better than fair. He stumbles over himself to answer,
"Yeah - yes. It sounds fair. Yes. Yes, I agree." Trying to keep his voice level, not show his excitement.
Frank's body presses closer behind him, leaning in to whisper in his ear and Gerard can hear the smirking smile in his voice.
"Aren't we quick to agree? But you haven't heard it all yet."
Gerard’s stomach sinks. Of course there is more. This generosity wont come without a price.
"I'd be doing you a big fucking favour if grant you this. I expect a favour in return." So much heat in Frank's voice, right in Gerard's ear. Frank's arms slide around to hold Gerard, gripping across his chest and hips tightly and possessively.
"What favour?" Gerard's voice is shaky, with nerves but also with lust. The way Frank's pressing into him is setting off every pleasure sensor in his body, he's very quickly liquefying under Frank's touch.
"I want to see you come. Before we go on stage. You gotta come for me." Gerard nearly crumbles in Frank's arms, the words striking him in two directions, sending a bolt of heat straight to his cock even as his brain starts freaking out at the very idea of taking up Frank's offer. Fuck. He should've seen this coming. Frank's got him bailed up in the fucking dressing room how could he not have seen it coming? But there's no time. They have to perform soon. They need to be gone and now.
Gerard's heart is beating fit to burst, panic rising up inside him. His first instinct is to run, get away from Frank and his mad dangerous schemes, get to the fucking green room before Brian comes looking for them.
But the offer. Oh fuck the offer is so good. One strike per compliment for the entire after party. It would take all the hell out of the after party for him, erase so much dread from the night to come.
Frank's whispering in his ear, voice a steady stream of wickedness and Gerard's starting to cave, heat in his cock fighting to overrule his mind, turning down the volume on the screaming panic.
"It's a good offer. You should take it. Just imagine how much less your ass will be hurting when I fuck you tonight." Gerard's eyes roll back at this, mouth falling slack, Frank's voice just undoing him. "And I will fuck you tonight. Your ass will be red and raw and hot to touch when I'm fucking it, still stinging when I'm ramming inside you and you'll fucking take it and you'll fucking love it."
"Oh fuck Frank..." Gerard's voice is pained, he's struggling with so much. Struggling to stay upright, to keep his head on, to achieve some semblance of professionalism for the band at one of the biggest awards nights they've been nominated at. He's trying, so hard, to remember why they shouldn't do this here. Now.
But in the end Frank wins. Frank always wins.
Gerard's admission of defeat is a spin on his feet to face Frank, capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss, pushing him back against the closed door. Gerard's reaching to flip the lock on the door when Frank grabs his arm, breaking the kiss to admonish him.
"No locking the door." The hard command in Frank's voice just turns Gerard on more, even as a voice in his brain screams at him about getting busted, barely registering above the surging roar of desire.
Gerard just slams his lips on Frank's again, turning their bodies so it's his back against the door. Not much of a defence if someone really wants to get in (there is no keeping Brian out when he's pissed off) but it would buy him a few seconds and give him something to hide behind if it came to that.
Sucking on Frank's tongue, his hands scrabble for his belt. His cock is pressing insistently at his fly now, rigid from Frank's wicked diatribe. He fumbles his button open and the zip scrapes down then he's pushing the way-too-tight pants down his thighs distractedly, underwear too, releasing his pale cock to the air-conditioned cool air. He's so hard he's amazed there's any blood left in his brain to work his hand as he grabs his dick and squeezes. He has to break the kiss with Frank to sigh out his pleasure. He's not jerking just yet, not straight away, he's just holding himself firmly, revelling in his own tight grip.
"You gonna jerk that?" Frank whispers heatedly, leaning back from Gerard to take in the view. Gerard's leaning back on the wall, fist around his cock, clothing covering him from neck to feet except for the expanse of white skin from his hips to his thighs. Frank reaches up to tuck Gerard's front shirttails up under his bulletproof vest, clearing a free path to Gerard's cock for his hungry eyes.
Gerard nods distractedly in answer to Frank's question, rubbing his hand over his cock, polishing the tip. He's leaking precome, which he spreads around, loving the way it makes his hand slide over the soft taut skin of his erection. His head is lolling back with the pleasure of it all, eyes half closed and unfocused.
"Oh fuck yeah." Frank growls appreciatively, pulling a chair over and dropping down into it, leaning forward on his knees and just watching intently, eyes roving over Gerard, devouring the view. "That's right stroke it. Fuck how good does that feel?"
"So good. So fucking good." Gerard's gasping out, eyes fluttering closed. His whole body is swaying as he milks himself, his breath coming in gasps.
"Look at me. I wanna see your eyes. This is my fucking show, slut." Gerard's eyes snap open at Frank's order, locking onto Frank and jesus, he could come from that look. Frank's so hungry, possessive, so ridiculously turned on. Every inch of Gerard's exposed skin is zinging with sensation, like Frank's gaze is a physical caress. He jerks faster, tightening his grip, moaning as he does, thankful for the solidity of the door behind him or he'd be on the floor by now.
Footsteps in the hall outside and his heartbeat spikes. His hand pumps harder, faster, worrying it's Brian come looking for them, fuck could he get off now, right now, before Brian gets the door open? He doesn't think so but he's gonna try, his strokes amping up faster, breath stuttering, hand a blur of movement.
He hears the voices outside that match the footsteps. Female. Thank fuck for that.
The panic's done nothing but feed his desire and when he drags his eyes back to Frank his breath hitches. Frank's staring at him greedily, his hands gripping his knees, gnawing on his lip, expression of pure want on his face. Gerard's hips arch up off the wall, humping his hand as he strokes his cock, biting his lip and swallowing moans. He's on fire, his whole existence fixated on his throbbing cock, Frank's gaze eating up the sight of him. He's humping and rolling and bucking in his hand, not sure how this could get any hotter when Frank opens his mouth and it does.
"That's right baby, that's fucking right. Jerk it. Come on milk it for me. You look so fucking hot right now. So gorgeous you can't even keep your hands to yourself. Such a slut. Such a pretty slut."
Gerard has to slap his free hand over his mouth to contain keening moans. He's pumping his cock now, the building throb in his groin alerting him that he's close, so close to completion. Frank's voice is rolling over him in a steady stream, drawing him over the line.
"Oh fuck you're nearly there aren't you? Come on, fucking come for me you greedy slut. Just let go. Just fucking lose it."
It's Frank's voice that undoes him. He's pounding his hips, frantically pulling at his length, moaning and panting and then FUCK. It's upon him, he's coming, hips jerking up, biting back a scream and shooting cream onto the too-fucking-white carpet.
Gerard collapses forward, leaning on his knees and panting as Frank approaches. Frank plants his feet on Gerard's spatter and grinds it into the carpet with his chucks. He tugs a woozy Gerard upright, grabbing his hands and raising them to his face. Slowly, so slowly, he licks Gerard's palms and fingers, cleaning off the last of the spunk, the taste of Gerard heavy in his mouth.
"That was so. Fucking. Hot." He states between licks. Gerard snorts, still flying high from his orgasm, feeling flushed and mussed and oh so buzzed. He's grinning madly at Frank, not quite back on the ground yet. Frank just wants to fuck him through the door, but a glance at the TV in the corner tells him they're way overdue so he helps Gerard dress instead, trying not to touch him too much, resisting the urge to stroke that heated skin that's screaming for his attention.
A rapid loud knock and suddenly the door is opening. Gerard leans back against it in a panic, scrabbling to get his zip done up and his belt buckled as Brian's annoyed yell fires in from outside.
"Do you want us to perform without a vocalist and rhythm guitarist? GET THE FUCK OUT!"
Frank holds the door closed for the extra ten seconds it takes Gerard to get his belt done up, trying to soothe Brian out there on the other side.
"Just a fucking minute alright?"
Gerard nods at him that he's okay to go now. Frank's eyes give him a once over, he can't see anything out of place (well aside from the heightened colour in Gerard's cheeks and the slightly sweaty mussed look to his hair, which he'll get away with). He returns Gerard's nod, but doesn't open the door until after he's delivered his lover with one brief possessive kiss, communicating all his pent up desire and making so many promises about where the night will end.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight." He states hungrily, turning away to open the door before Gerard can respond. So quick, he doesn't get to see the look of utter want telegraphing from Gerard's face, in spite of his recent orgasm.
Then they're being bustled down the hall by a very put-out Brian and pushed into the green room (where they still have to wait another ten minutes anyway).
If anyone in the band notices that Gerard's voice is a bit hoarser, a bit throatier than usual when they perform "Helena", they don't say anything. That his movements are somehow a bit more fluid, a bit looser than normal doesn't rate a mention either. If it's possible, Frank is more amped he's ever been, vibrating energy, playing so hard his arms might fall off, jumping and bouncing off every surface.
If Ray, Mikey or Bob notice, they don't comment, and they certainly don't deign to think what it might mean.
Concluded in Part 3
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Yeah and we'll totally need the armies of Frank's to keep the slaves in line. But who will keep the Franks in line? Bears pondering.
But anyway! *smishes you* I am rambling because I am just a big pile of happy right now. xD