Yeah I'm pretty sure this isn't what you were looking for but *shrug*
Warnings: mild bondage, D/s
Gerard wakes up hard and panting. He stares down at his naked wrists, certain he can feel the phantom sensation of material wrapped tight around them. It was such an intense dream.
Red material, tied in a messy knot, holding his hands above his head. He's straining, sweating, his cock hard and leaking but he can't touch, can't do anything. His knees hurt from kneeling. He's begging... please, please, I need to come. The material pulls tighter around his wrists, and he fixates on the black pattern against the red fabric, his hips pushing forward against empty air.
When he's so desperate he can't see straight, he feels lips on the back of his neck, arms wrapping around him from behind, skilled fingers jerking his dick, giving him that release he craves. He comes, groaning, looking down to watch the hands as they bring him off, familiar tattoos blurring with motion.
Frank's hands.
Gerard shoves a hand down his pajama pants and brings himself off, quick and silent, before he can think about what it means.
*
He doesn't think about it again. Not until soundcheck, when Frank catches his arm, telling him something that Gerard doesn't absorb - because wrapped around Frank's wrist is the same red bandanna from his dream.
It's just a coincidence. Frank always wears a bandanna when he plays. It's just a freak accident that it's the same colour, the same pattern Gerard remembers.
The explanation doesn't stop the flush that creeps up his cheeks, or the heat that gathers in his groin.
He stutters out a nonsensical answer to whatever Frank says and excuses himself, racing for the bathroom.
*
The next morning he wakes up clutching at his throat.
This time, it's a belt. Gerard's belt, the one with the batman buckle, pulled firm around his throat. Frank's not touching him this time, but it's his hands that hold the belt tight around Gerard's neck as recites a steady stream of filth, hot into Gerard's ear.
"Yeah, that's it Gee. Touch yourself. Show me how you get yourself off. Do it right, or I'll..." the belt gets incrementally tighter and Gerard gasps, his hand moving faster on his own dick, bringing himself off at Frank's command.
"Yeah, do it."
Gerard can still hear Frank's voice in his head when he shoves his hand into his underwear and jerks off fast and rough. He claps a hand over his mouth, breathing hard through his nose, smelling his own sweat as he shudders and comes.
*
It isn't until their halfway through their first song at soundcheck when Gerard notices Frank is wearing the belt with the bat buckle. He drops half the chorus and barely keeps a hold of his mic. His pants are too fucking tight.
no subject
Warnings: mild bondage, D/s
Gerard wakes up hard and panting. He stares down at his naked wrists, certain he can feel the phantom sensation of material wrapped tight around them. It was such an intense dream.
Red material, tied in a messy knot, holding his hands above his head. He's straining, sweating, his cock hard and leaking but he can't touch, can't do anything. His knees hurt from kneeling. He's begging... please, please, I need to come. The material pulls tighter around his wrists, and he fixates on the black pattern against the red fabric, his hips pushing forward against empty air.
When he's so desperate he can't see straight, he feels lips on the back of his neck, arms wrapping around him from behind, skilled fingers jerking his dick, giving him that release he craves. He comes, groaning, looking down to watch the hands as they bring him off, familiar tattoos blurring with motion.
Frank's hands.
Gerard shoves a hand down his pajama pants and brings himself off, quick and silent, before he can think about what it means.
*
He doesn't think about it again. Not until soundcheck, when Frank catches his arm, telling him something that Gerard doesn't absorb - because wrapped around Frank's wrist is the same red bandanna from his dream.
It's just a coincidence. Frank always wears a bandanna when he plays. It's just a freak accident that it's the same colour, the same pattern Gerard remembers.
The explanation doesn't stop the flush that creeps up his cheeks, or the heat that gathers in his groin.
He stutters out a nonsensical answer to whatever Frank says and excuses himself, racing for the bathroom.
*
The next morning he wakes up clutching at his throat.
This time, it's a belt. Gerard's belt, the one with the batman buckle, pulled firm around his throat. Frank's not touching him this time, but it's his hands that hold the belt tight around Gerard's neck as recites a steady stream of filth, hot into Gerard's ear.
"Yeah, that's it Gee. Touch yourself. Show me how you get yourself off. Do it right, or I'll..." the belt gets incrementally tighter and Gerard gasps, his hand moving faster on his own dick, bringing himself off at Frank's command.
"Yeah, do it."
Gerard can still hear Frank's voice in his head when he shoves his hand into his underwear and jerks off fast and rough. He claps a hand over his mouth, breathing hard through his nose, smelling his own sweat as he shudders and comes.
*
It isn't until their halfway through their first song at soundcheck when Gerard notices Frank is wearing the belt with the bat buckle. He drops half the chorus and barely keeps a hold of his mic. His pants are too fucking tight.
*
(CONT)