Fic: The Things You Say (Frank/Gerard - Dom!Frankie 'verse)

[ladyfoxxx]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY bebunny! I am sort-of but not really on time. Here is your birthday porn. I know, I know I'm getting terribly predictable in my gift choices. /o\ Happy day, harlot! All my hugs are belong to you.

Fandom: Bandom - MCR
Title: The Things You Say
Pairings: Frank/Gerard (Allusions to Gerard/Ray, Gerard/Bob, Gerard/Mikey)
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for D/s, dirty talk, incestuous references, phone sex, masturbation and semi-public sex
Length: 3.5k
Author's Note: Cranked out in a rush, unbetaed and the last part was written after a few glasses of wine. (Yes, I am FULL of excuses today). Happy birthday bebunny.

Summary: Bathroom jerk-off porn. Set in the Dom!Frankie 'verse.


The Things You Say

Gerard's in the bathroom when he gets the message. He's washing his hands after a post-show piss and the buzz of his phone in his back pocket makes his ass vibrate as it echoes loudly off the tiled walls. He doesn't even remember pocketing his phone. His hands are dripping and he swears, flicking water off his fingers and wiping them off on his jeans before groping for his phone.

The message is from Frank, which isn't a surprise. The contents are another matter.

I want you to jerk off. Right now.

Gerard stares at the words on the screen. Blood drains from his face, rushing to his groin so fast he feels dizzy. He'd pretty much calmed all the way down, post-show adrenaline abated, but now his heart is beating fast and strong, thumping in his ears. His breaths quicken as he glances around the empty bathroom. The crappy venue bathroom which is nothing but three graffiti-covered stalls, two urinals, a sink and the mirror he's standing in front of.

Now? Right now? The words are panicked, even in his head.

Frank's just messing around, right? But no, Frank doesn't mess around with this stuff.

Gerard's fingers hover over the keypad, ready to type out a reply - an excuse, a refusal. Because he can't, not here, and why? Frank isn't even here, it's not fair. It's a waste.

The phone buzzes in his hand before he gets his fingers on the keys. It's another message from Frank.

I said now

He can hear Frank in his head, saying just that, in the low demanding voice that turns Gerard's knees to water. The words blur as he closes his eyes and he has to reach forward and hold on to the sink to steady himself. Because fuck. Fuck.

He glances up from the phone to find his own shocked reflection in the mirror staring back at him. His face is still sweat-damp from the show and his hair is clumped in messy locks around his face. Spots of colour burn in his cheeks. He ditched the bulletproof vest not long after he got off stage, and there are sweatmarks from it across the chest of the black shirt he's wearing, the cotton stuck fast to his skin. His jeans are clinging to his legs, damp with sweat, and his tie's all fucked up. He looks messy and wrecked. Just the way Frank likes him.

He peels his hand off the sink, and his fingers are cool when they grip the back of his neck. He stares himself down in the reflection of the mirror and considers. Really considers.

Without really making a decision, his hand slides down his neck, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt, palm skimming over his chest and belly until his fingers hit his belt. He drops his hand lower, until his hand is over his groin, and he squeezes. He's not fully hard, not yet, but he's definitely on the way. It won't take much.

He chokes back a noise in his throat, eyes darting towards the door. He should take this into a stall, if he's going to do it, he's still not sure he is. But he doesn't move his feet, he's too transfixed by his own reflection. He bites his lip and squeezes himself through his jeans again. His hips rock forwards into his hand, jeans tightening as his cock swells.

"Fuck." He mutters, low and bitten off. He hits a few buttons on his phone, sending Frank a one handed "ok", before shoving it back in his pocket. Then he works his belt open and the hiss of his zipper coming down is too loud in the quiet bathroom. He gets a hand into his underwear and yeah. Fuck yeah. His eyes fall shut as he shapes himself. He's fully hard now, hard and straining. His own fingers are familiar as he grips his cock, giving it a slow stroke.

It's too dry, so he lifts his hand to his face, eyes catching on his reflection in the mirror as he licks his palm. He makes a show of slicking his palm with his tongue, even though he's the only one looking, eyes hot on his image in the mirror. He looks needy. Slutty. Frank would like that. He'd want to see that. His hand tastes of soap and sweat and his dick. He pushes it back into his pants and strokes again, the spit lending more slide to his hand and yeah. Jesus. He's really fucking doing this. His eyes slide shut as he strokes again, a throaty noise leaking out of his mouth, lips falling slack.

He peels his eyes open again, peering at his reflection through the damp locks of hair that sway in front of his face. His jeans have slipped low, showing a band of pale flesh at his waist. His cock looks obscene slipping out from between his fingers, red and hard and the dark thatch of hair at his crotch stands out starkly against his white skin. He lips pull into an almost-snarl as his eyes dance over his reflection, catching on every glimpse of bare flesh and devouring it.

It's not enough skin, he wants more. He's unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand, movements awkward and stuttering because it's not the right hand. No, that hand's still stroking his dick, slow and firm, drawing it out. Slower than he should be going, since he's out in the open in the unlocked bathroom, ass bare to the air, jeans around his thighs, damp shirt hanging open to the mirror.

His skin is pale and shiny with sweat, red marks across his chest from the bulletproof vest because he wears it tight. He likes the constriction. One day he'll try a corset, see how it feels to be held tight all around his torso, see the red marks on his back from the lacings. Fuck. Frank would like that too.

Another low noise escapes his mouth and he leans his palm on the mirror, pressing hard to keep himself upright. His eyes land on his face again in the mirror and he's torn between arousal and shame. His mouth is slack and open, eyes shot, cheeks stained red. He can almost hear Frank's voice in his ears, calling him a needy slut, asking how much he wants it. And suddenly he needs to hear Frank's voice.

He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, hitting Frank's number on speed dial and pressing it to his ear. His other hand keeps working his cock the whole time, still slower than he really wants to go, but he's not ready to speed up just yet. He can't come, not yet, not without permission.

The phone only rings once before Frank picks up. "You're doing it, aren't you?" His voice is deep and throaty - his game voice.

Gerard bites his lip, stopping his hand for a moment to just hold his cock tight. Fuck, so close already. "Yeah." He pants the word out. "Yeah, I'm doing it."

"Fuck, you're so fucking good." Frank says, and Gerard can hear the smile in his voice. It's ridiculous just how much he gets out the smallest amount of praise from Frank.

He can hear muffled background noises, like Frank's out somewhere public, like there's people around him. It's typical Frank to do that, put himself in a situation where he can't act, where he has to lower his voice, watch his words.

Gerard's hand starts moving again without any thought from him. He needs to hear Frank speak, to be told what to do, fuck he's so turned on he's a little desperate. "Frank, I just- I need-"

"Hey, hey, I'm here." Frank's voice takes on a calming tone, and the background noise on the line gets a little softer, like he's found a quiet corner. "It's okay, just keep going. Let me hear you."

Gerard's already breathing hard and he knows Frank can hear it, but he lets himself vocalize too, little whimpers sliding into his breaths as he moves his hand.

Frank hums, his voice getting impossibly deeper. He sounds really turned on. "Yeah, Gee, keep going. Jerk it for me."

Gerard groans, too loud, and it echoes back at him off the tiles. This is such a fucking bad idea to be out in the open like this, his cock out and his open jeans hanging low on his hips, but at the same time it's such a fucking turn-on. He speeds his hand a little.

"Frankie," his voice is shot and needy, "I want- I want-" The words are broken with little hiccupping breaths. His own grip isn't enough, he wants more, Frank's hand, Frank's mouth, Frank's fingers inside him – god.

"I want that too." Frank's voice is throaty, staticky where he's breathing into the mouthpiece.

Shit, Gerard didn't even realize he was speaking aloud. He's so turned on he feels heady, nearly weightless. His cock is leaking in his hand... throbbing. He starts swiping his thumb over the head on the upstroke, groaning breathily down the phone because, fuck, it feels so fucking good.

"Frank. God. Frankie, I want to come." The words hiss out between clenched teeth. He has to slow his strokes, he's right on the edge. "Please, can I come?" He leans heavily on the sink, glancing up into the mirror to see his reflection – all damp hair, bitten lips and a desperate gaze. He's gripping his cock tight, moving so slow now, keeping himself near the edge and trying not to tip over. "Please, Frank?"

Frank chuckles low and wicked, and the bottom drops out of Gerard's stomach. "Do you, now?"

Gerard slows his hand even more, but still chokes on his breath as he struggles to answer. "Yes. Please. Please."

"What are you gonna do for me?" Frank asks, mischief in his tone and Gerard keens in frustration. He doesn't want to play now. He wants to fucking come, already.

But he has to play. That's how it works.

"What do you want?" He pants, knowing it's a mistake to make the question so open-ended but fuck, he can't think right now, he just needs to get there.

Frank hums, amused and wicked, a soft chuckle dropping from his lips before he speaks. "Oh I want lots of things. But let's start with a blow job."

Gerard sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay, just come in here, I'll-"

"No, I don't want one now. I want it tonight." Franks says quickly, and fuck him for being so contrary.

"But it's not a hotel night." Gerard says it without thinking. Shit, he's not supposed to argue. He holds his breath, biting his lip nervously as he waits for Frank to tell him off.

He doesn't. Not yet. "So what? I want one anyway." Frank's voice drops about an octave, sounding like porn, "We'll just have to be real quiet. And you'll never know who's listening. Maybe Bob. Or Ray. Or even Mikey."

Gerard chokes a little, his face burning. Frank knows him too well, is far too familiar with the catalog of his fantasies - even the ones he's never spoken about - and it's not fucking fair. It's not fair for Frank to talk like this if Gerard's not allowed to come.

He has to still his hand, hold his dick tight and low, grunting. "Frank. Frank, please-"

Frank just barrels on, "They'll hear what a slut you are. How good you are with your mouth. How much you love it. Maybe they'll want one too."

"Frank-" Gerard pants the words desperately, leaning hard on the sink. Every inch of his skin is burning with heat and fuck Frank knows his buttons, every one of them. He's not even moving his hand and his dick is throbbing. He can't breathe. "Frank. God. Please."

"Would you do it, if I asked you to? Would you suck off your band for me, Gee? Give them that gorgeous mouth of yours? I know they'd like it. Would you do it?"

Gerard can't breathe. When he glances at himself in the mirror his face and chest are stained red. His mouth is hanging open, lips wet and shiny. He looks desperate and wanton. He can't think, he just says the first answer that comes to him. "Yes."

"Yes?" Frank throws it back at him.

Gerard closes his eyes, leaning his head forward until his forehead touches the cool glass of the mirror. Without any real intention, his hand starts to move on his dick again – slow, so slow. God, he just wants to get there. "Yeah. I would, Frankie. If you asked me to, I would."

Gerard can hear the long breath Frank releases down the phone, staticky in his ear. The silence drags for an endless moment and a curl of panic twists in Gerard's belly. Fuck. Maybe he's taken it too far. Maybe he's scared Frank off. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Jesus, Gee." Frank's voice is impossibly low now, almost a growl. "That's so fucking hot."

Gerard lets out the breath he's been holding on a rush of air that bounces off the mouthpiece. He can't stay still anymore, he has to move his hand now. He's desperate. "Frankie, can I? Please?" He's begging and he knows it. He doesn't even care.

"Can you what?" Frank asks, the words twisted with a smirk. "Suck off your band? Don't let me stop you. I'll be front fucking row."

"No, not that-" Gerard pants, his hand already starting to quicken again, fuck it feels good. His palm is slick with precome.

"But you just said you would." Frank interrupts. "And now I want to see it. Fuck, can you imagine? You know Ray's gonna be huge, but I bet he's really gentle..."

Gerard chokes out a moan, because he can't help it, he is imagining it, and it's mortifying but it's turning him on even more. He can imagine Ray's big hands in his hair, not pulling or forcing, just holding his head, fingers gentle. He can see Ray biting down on those wide, plump lips of his, his eyes dark with want. He can feel the stretch of his own lips around what they all know would be a sizeable dick. It's frightening how much the thought turns him on.

Gerard scrunches his eyes shut, pressing his forehead hard against the mirror, sucking in quick breaths. "Frank don't-"

"I bet Bob's a hair-puller. He'd know what he wants. He'd show you how to do it."

Whether he wants it or not the image is immediately in Gerard's mind. His own lips around Bob's dick, gripping Bob's hips and trying not to choke as Bob guides his head, firm and forceful. Gerard's lips would be pulled tight around his dick, getting spit everywhere as he tries to keep pace, to keep moving, keep breathing, keep sucking - and loving every moment.

Gerard groans, his hand moving faster now, he can't help it. It's too much. "Frank. Fuck." He bites his lip, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and crawling his hand across his chest to pinch his nipple as he beats off. He's so fucking close. "Please. Frank. Please." He needs to come.

"You want me to keep going? There's still one more band member, babe." Frank's voice is teasing, but he's asking - giving Gerard the option - so he knows it's serious. Gerard can't breathe. He needs to come so fucking bad, but Frank's talking about going somewhere they've never gone before, even just in fantasy. It's a wild, scary, incredibly arousing thought.

"Babe?" Frank prompts and Gerard realizes he hasn't spoken any real words, just kept panting down the phone. "You still with me?"

Now or never. Gerard's thrumming with arousal, his whole body is on fire. He knows if he says no, Frank won't push it, probably won't ever bring it up again, and yet... Gerard's surprised to find he doesn't want to cross it off the list. Not yet.

"Yeah. Yeah fuck, Frank, can I... Can I-?"

"You can come." Frank says, in his game voice, the words hard and firm. "But you have to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Fuck. Please. Please." Gerard's shaking now, his hand speeding up, chasing his orgasm.

Frank keeps talking sin in his ear. "Good." He purrs, "Because you and I both know Mikey wouldn't be gentle. You know he'd just grab your head and fuck your mouth."

Gerard whimpers, leaning against the glass, hand moving in a blur, his own breaths loud in his ears, hanging on every word Frank utters down the line.

"You know when he comes he'd make you take it." Frank says, sounding sure."Take it all."

And that's it for Gerard. He whimpers into the phone, twisting his fist just right and then he's coming, hot over his hand and onto the sink, moaning loud down the phone and not even caring who hears. He gets stuck like that, leaning hard against the mirror and sink, cool glass and porcelain against his overheated skin, just panting, his heart racing, his head whirling.

"Fuck me." The voice doesn't come from down the phone this time. It's accompanied by the squeak of a door and Gerard blinks his eyes open to find Frank stalking into the dirty bathroom, his eyes hot all over Gerard, taking him in. Gerard knows he's a wreck, his hair soaked with sweat, come smeared on his hand and stomach, his clothes hanging off him. He doesn't care.

Frank steps in front of Gerard, taking his phone and putting it carefully in his pocket before sliding his hands into Gerard's hair and pulling him close, until their lips are a breath apart. "That was fucking insane." He whispers, kissing Gerard hard, all teeth and tongue and nipping lips. "You're amazing. You're fucking amazing." He murmurs between kisses that Gerard's returning, slow and wet.

Gerard feels broken - far too exhausted to even think about what just happened. It's too much to process. He just kisses Frank back, clinging to Frank's shirt with his clean hand. He knows they pushed it, so much further than they ever have before, but he's not scared. Not with Frank.

"Fuck Gee, you blew me away. The way you just fucking went with that, god." He covers Gerard's hand with his own, guiding it from his chest down to his crotch, pressing their joined fingers over his hard dick through his jeans. "See what you're doing to me." He covers Gerard's mouth with his, kissing him hard and breathless.

When their lips separate Frank's eyes are hot on Gerard's face, his fingers feathering through his sweaty hair. He grins, shaking his head a little, looking awed.

Gerard smiles a tiny smile back, and shifts his hand on Frank's crotch, looking for his zip. Frank catches his hand. "Not yet."

Gerard whines, "Why not?"

Frank just settles a hand, warm and firm, on the back of Gerard's neck, a reminder of who's in charge. "Since when do you ask questions?"

"Sorry, sorry." Gerard's head drops forward a little, slipping easily into sub mode.

"Come on, get cleaned up, we're gonna miss bus call." Frank says softly, stroking his thumb across the back of Gerard's neck a few times before withdrawing his hand. Gerard nearly whimpers at the loss, but does as he's told, washing up and straightening up his clothes as best he can.

When he turns back to Frank, slightly more presentable, Frank catches him by the shirt collar and kisses him soft, like he's something fragile, something precious.

He pulls back, stroking Gerard's messy hair back from his face. "Hey, you okay?"

Gerard nods, still a little spaced-out, but feeling content. "Yeah. I'm okay."

A slow smile tugs at Frank's mouth. "Good. You've got promises to keep."


(end)