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“Oh, fuck you,” Gerard huffed, running his hands through his hair.
“Fuck you, too,” Mikey said flatly, pulling out another handful of movies and setting them on the floor between his crossed legs and the bookshelf. It was a fucking nightmare. The home of their collection of DVDs and tapes was a dust magnet, especially because Gerard insisted on leaving an ashtray and the incense they burned to hide the smell of weed on the top shelf with all the half-empty liquor bottles and weird knick-knacks .
“Not you,” Gerard murmured, swinging around in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. “I fucking smudged the shit out of it. Again. I'm done.”
Mikey snorted and shook his head, wiping down the cleared section of shelf quickly and tossing the paper towel into the plastic bag next to him. They were both kind of particular about the order – everything was organized by genre, subgenre, director, and then alphabetically. All the series and sequels were in order, the handful of special editions next to their standard copies. Their collection was about fifty-fifty, half of it old VHS tapes, half of it DVDs. Their bootlegs even had hand-drawn covers they'd both come up with while watching them, tucked into the clear plastic cases.
The basement might've originally been Gerard's room, but there was so much of both of them that it'd become theirs over the months since Mikey moved in, ever since they'd spent the first afternoon after their parents left for Florida dragging Mikey's bed downstairs. Not that Mikey often ended up in his own bed, or if he did, it was rarely alone.
Nobody thought it was weird, because it was just... them. And there was some credit to the excuse that the basement was a lot cooler to hang out in in the summer heat, even moreso if they jacked up the AC. Especially when they wound up with Frank or Ray – or both of them, a lot of the time – hanging around and shooting the shit or passed out wherever they happened to fall after a shared ride home from a house party.
At the end of the day, every day, their parents were gone, a thousand miles away. Gerard could still remember the spring evening and the smell of the warm rain outside when they'd told the brothers they were moving south over Sunday dinner. There'd been a fleeting but frantic moment of panic before their parents said they could pay rent on the house if they wanted to stay.
Living in the basement meant a lot of upstairs was largely unused nowadays, almost like a showroom, a ground-level facade of normalcy locked up above the basement they'd transformed into something beyond Gerard's bedroom, made into a space they both owned. They still cooked in the kitchen and sometimes hung out in the so-called living room watching the news while waiting for pizza deliveries, but for the most part, the basement was where they stayed.
Mikey yawned as he placed what was left on the floor before him back in order – the last half of the Romero section. “I wanna watch zombies tonight.”
Gerard shrugged, crossing the room to sit down heavily on his bed. Mikey heard him shuffling around in the nightstand, probably in search of his cigarettes. “I kinda felt like, I dunno. Quatermass or something.”
Mikey turned to look at him, drumming his fingers against the hand-drawn cover of Season of the Witch and rolling his eyes. “We can watch that after. You literally always fall asleep during that one, and it's only like, midnight.”
Gerard sighed, still rummaging through the mess that was his drawer. “But I'm tired.”
“But I sat here for the last hour and cleaned your shelf,” Mikey retorted, eyebrow raised. “And I feel like brain eaters. ”
“They're your movies too,” Gerard murmured, finally finding his cigarettes and sticking one in his mouth, patting around on the bed for a lighter. “It's our room now.”
“I can't be fucked with the bottom shelf, you can vacuum that one tomorrow,” Mikey yawned again, sliding the last few movies into their homes.
Gerard found a lighter under his pillow and flopped down on his Star Wars sheets, cigarette between his lips.
The basement had changed a lot over the summer, after they roped Frank and Ray into helping move Mikey's bed and all his shit down with the promise of free booze and pizza. The latest addition were four black cotton curtains hung up with thick cord and hooks, two separating the main area from the doors that lead to the bathroom and upstairs, and one each at the foot of their beds. The record store had started stocking tapestries, and they'd built up quite the collection over the last few months. They probably had a dozen thumbtacked to the ceiling, vibrant prints of album covers and movie posters on thin fabric. It was a lot nicer, a lot more soft and homey, with the sparing paper posters that were once there moved to the other side of the bathroom door. The basement kind of felt like an adult version of a blanket fort now, and tapestries also hid the nicotine stains better.
“I fucking hate vacuuming,” Gerard grumbled, blowing out a plume of smoke towards the fabric printed with the Dawn of the Dead poster art above his bed.
“You hate cleaning, period,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes again as he got up off the floor, cracking his neck as he rose. “I should smoke a bowl.”
Gerard took another drag off his cigarette. “I'll join you. Frank didn't finish before his dad called, there should be enough ready for two.”
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken by the background noise of late night psychic TV playing on the chunky screen. Mikey knelt down again to get into the small cupboard in the TV unit, where their stash lived. Gerard just idly smoked as he looked over the photos and sketchbook pages on the wall above his headboard.
Both of them had a collage of drawings and photos they'd amassed over time, stuck to the wall with sticky tape or more thumbtacks. Gerard's favorites were the Polaroids they'd taken of each other in various states of being dead, photoshoots they'd started on Halloween last year with Ray and Frank. They'd brainstormed countless murder scenes and freak accidents, so many that they got carried away and made it into a semi-regular thing, whipping up a batch of fake blood at least once a month. “Wannabe Savinis,” Ray called them. It wasn't an insult.
Mikey set the bong and the small, coffin shaped box that held whatever they had ground up on the coffee table. They'd found it last Halloween at one of the dollar stores, a small black coffin made of wood, with a swarm of hand-painted bats across the lid. The glass jars that held the rest, some empty, were painted with similar sorts of doodles. Even the bong itself had fallen prey to glass paint and Gerard's brush, covered in abstract blood splatters and drips in varying shades of red that stood out in stark contrast when it filled with smoke. He really did draw on almost fucking anything.
Not that Mikey could really fault his brother on it. He was talented, and it was kind of neat having even the most mundane of objects customized with Gerard's doodles. And if he was doing a movie case he'd always leave the pencilled-in writing on the back for Mikey to ink in fineliner pens, ever since they got the bright idea to start doing it.
He went back to the bookshelf, picking a random incense stick out of the chipped mug they kept them in and lighting it. It smelled vaguely like cinnamon and maybe apple, definitely one of the nicer ones. Gerard pulled himself to his feet and reached up above the dresser between their beds, standing on his toes to push the tiny basement window open to get some air flow going.
The pair settled on the couch in the middle of the room, Gerard taking another drag off his cigarette as he took his seat. Mikey pulled the bong across the coffee table towards him, the light from the TV reflecting off the glass between the red paint.
“I was gonna get you to grab Night of the Living Dead,” Mikey murmured, carefully packing his bowl over the upturned coffin lid.
Gerard groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I wanna watch Quatermass. 'M tired.”
Mikey shook his head, laughing softly. “I cleaned the fuckin' shelf, dude,” he reasoned, bringing the bong to his lips and waving his hand when Gerard opened his mouth to reply. He flicked the lighter to life, the bubbling sound and burn in his lungs familiar as he took the hit, clearing the bowl with a little struggle. Frank's chick had been getting some hella good shit in. It was harsh, the best kind of harsh, and he couldn't stop the coughing and spluttering that started on the exhale, his eyes watering behind his glasses as he held the bong out to his brother.
Gerard took it, watching with an amused smile as Mikey hacked up a lung. He started packing his own, sliding an almost-empty can of Dr Pepper across the table in Mikey's direction when it didn't let up after a couple moments.
“Please?” Gerard asked, pouting as Mikey drank down the spicy-sweet soda and moved his legs so his calves were resting across the older brother's thighs.
Mikey paused before swallowing the last mouthful, setting the empty can back down on the coffee table, and shook his head.
Gerard sighed heavily, dragging his eyes away from Mikey and focusing instead on the woman on TV. She was old, like the old crone in so many horror movies, her hands wrinkled and dotted with prominent veins and age spots, long fingernails like talons tapping against a crystal ball as the phone numbers scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Her makeup was heavy, winged eyeliner and lipstick the same dark red as her harpy's claws, a web of gold chain littered with moons, stars, and tiny crystals laid over the dark scarf that covered most of her hair. It was all so theatrical, her frail body clothed in layers of flowing fabric.
There was a brief pause as Gerard took his own hit, immediately reacting the same as his little brother. It always fucking hurt, the good shit. Burned like a motherfucker and left them all wheezing but it was worth it. Mikey returned the favor though, getting up after a few moments of Gerard coughing. He crossed to the mini-fridge they'd put in back in June, cracking another can of Dr Pepper and taking a swig before he walked back to the couch and handed it over.
“Don't die,” he said, his voice a little scratchy, flopping back down onto the couch and laying his legs back over Gerard's lap.
The older Way rolled his eyes as he sipped at the soda, his free hand settling over Mikey's shin, thumb running across the curve of his calf. “Frank's been fucking scoring lately,” he murmured, leaning forward to set the can down next to the one Mikey had finished.
A silence fell between them, the woman on the screen making some over-exaggerated spiel about spirits and forces.“Heed my call, and protect my beloved viewers. Til next time, my dearest audience, blessed be.” Commercial break – McDonald's, the local car yard that had a really fucking catchy jingle, Burger King. Advertisement for some kinda pill emblazoned with consult your doctor today! Gerard finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
“The following paid advertisements are intended for adult audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.”
Yeah, it was officially after midnight. The screen turned red, a pornographic moan from the speakers, a fade in to a woman in lingerie lounging on a leopard print covered bed as numbers scrolled across the bottom third of the screen. Phone sex ads. They were kind of amusing sometimes, the sultry voices encouraging to “Call now, indulge all your fantasies.”
The screen flickered with images of barely legal girls in pillow fights, skimpy swimsuits, slutty versions of every costume; older ladies dolled up like pinup models, in stockings and garter belts with their mouths perfectly lined in a hundred shades of red lipstick; women clad in black leather and metal as FETISH blasted across the screen accompanied by the twang of a generic glam rock riff.
“I'll make you a bet,” Mikey said, startling Gerard out of the daydream he'd fallen into and making him drag his eyes away from the TV.
“Do I wanna know?”
Mikey chuckled, bending one knee so he could nudge Gerard with his heel. “It's a good one. Winner picks the movie.”
Gerard shrugged, running a hand through his hair. He'd washed it last night, it was nice and soft. As much as he might have an aversion to showers from time to time, he couldn't deny his hair always felt extra nice after stealing Mikey's conditioner.
“What is it?”
“Whoever comes first, loses.”
Gerard was glad he'd waited til the Dr Pepper was out of his hands, because he choked on his own spit as soon as he heard it. “You're a fucking hoe, Mikes.”
Mikey rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh. “You just know I'd win.”
“Bullshit,” Gerard snorted, shoving at Mikey's legs and looking back at the TV. He paused for a moment, waiting for another smart-assed response, but there wasn't one.
Mikey was being serious. 'Jesus fucking Christ.'
“You're evil,” Gerard whined, letting his head fall back on the couch. He let his eyes fall closed, head swimming a little from the bong hit.
“If you think you'll lose...” Mikey started, trailing off like he anticipated an interruption as he moved his legs from across Gerard's thighs.
“Fuck you, you're on,” Gerard said, shoving at Mikey's knee again.
“'S what I thought, jerk. Go get on the bed.”
Gerard started to whine, earning himself a nudge in the ribs with a bony elbow. He stood up dramatically, stomping across the room and flopping flat on his back on Mikey's bed, swinging his feet up and making himself comfortable on the sheets covered in skulls.
“Do we even own a stopwatch?” he asked, one hand behind his head, staring at Mikey's Smashing Pumpkins tapestry. If Mikey's plan was jacking off, they would've stayed on the couch – obviously he had other ideas. Gerard could just hear the soft sound of his feet on the carpet as he crossed the room over the ridiculous sounds the TV continued to make.
“Why the fuck would we need a stopwatch?” Mikey came in to view and knelt down on the bed next to his brother.
“How else do we know who-”
The younger Way laughed again, pressing a kiss to Gerard's mouth, lingering just long enough to be a tease.
“Dumbass, I'm gonna suck your dick, while you're sucking my dick, and whoever comes first, loses,” he smiled, jabbing Gerard in the ribs again. “You win, it's Quatermass. If I win, zombies.”
“You watch too much fucking porn,” Gerard murmured, a laugh in his voice. “Deviant.”
“If this is deviant, I'd hate to know what the shit we did last night counts as,” Mikey chuckled, throwing one leg over so he was straddling Gerard's thighs, and flicked the pair of leather handcuffs still hanging from the bedhead. “I think that scores worse than sucking dick. And those were your idea, if I remember right.”
Gerard shrugged and reached up to grab at Mikey's shirt, pulling him down for another kiss. He couldn't bite back, because he knew his little brother was right. They were, really, just as bad as each other. Nothing was really normal about either of them by this point, and really it never had been.
When Mikey pulled away his glasses slipped, falling off his face and landing on the bridge of Gerard's nose. He flinched, then giggled as the younger Way pulled back and shut his eyes, letting him carefully push the frames back into place.
“Fucking nerd,” Gerard laughed softly, one hand settling on the back of Mikey's neck, soft brown hair tangled around his fingers. His other hand trailed down, tracing the lines of Mikey's ribs through his shirt before slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans.
Mikey just rolled his eyes and kissed Gerard again, more heated this time, all tongue and teeth and Gerard's grip on his hair pulling harder, his fingertips digging into his ass through the denim. Mikey would use the low moan the older Way tried to hide against him later, nudge him in the ribs in the middle of breakfast the next day and remind his brother of every needy little sound he made, the desperate things he said. Gerard would, without a doubt, return the favor.
Not that there was any room for the younger brother to talk too much shit, not when he mimicked that same sound as Gerard tried grinding their hips together, struggling against Mikey's weight across his thighs.
Gerard moved to sink his teeth into his brother's throat, perfect bite mark bruises he made over and over and always kissed after he created. The younger Way grabbed at his brother's hair, thin fingers tugging on the mess of soft, box-dyed strands.
“Rules,” Mikey breathed, faltering a little as he spoke, trying not to get distracted by Gerard practically attacking his neck. “Rules, Gee.”
“Mhm?” Gerard didn't stop, just pressed a kiss to the crook of Mikey's neck. He dragged his tongue and teeth across his brother's throat, slow and sloppy, just how he knew made him weak. Mikey just fucking melted for a moment, moaning, a shudder running down his spine making his hips buck and twitch.
“Fuck you,” Mikey groaned, and Gerard laughed before pressing another soft, quick kiss to his lips between words. “Rules are, blowjobs only. Otherwise you'd definitely lose-”
“Asshole,” Gerard murmured, his breath hot against Mikey's skin.
“Gotta have an even playing field,” Mikey said with a soft smirk on his lips. “Loser also makes the winner breakfast in the morning and if we somehow come at the same time, tie breaker's rock paper scissors.”
The older Way made some noise of agreement, biting softly at Mikey's earlobe. “Whatever you say, Mikeyboy,” Gerard whispered, mouthing along Mikey's jawline, leaving a faint wet trail until he kissed him again, dirty and needy, both of them tugging harshly at the locks of hair tangled around their fingers.
Mikey's hand slipped under Gerard's shirt, digging in his nails and raking them up Gerard's ribcage, taking his ratty old Exorcist shirt with him. It was a little awkward when Gerard rose from the bed just enough to let his brother pull the worn-thin fabric off over his head, his hand moving from Mikey's ass to drag his shirt up too and toss them both to the floor.
The TV screen made the room flash red again with another pornographic moan as Mikey scooted down Gerard's legs, thin fingers trailing across his soft, pale stomach before they started working on the button of his jeans.
“You're impatient,” Gerard said, his voice breathy as Mikey unzipped his fly. He got a shrug in response as his jeans were tugged halfway down his thighs and Mikey crawled back up.
“Shut up.”
“Never,” Gerard smiled, one hand finding it's way back to Mikey's hair, pulling his bangs out of his eyes a little. His other hand moved to his brother's side, fingers settling into the space between each rib. “You can try and make me, though.”
Mikey rolled his eyes. “There's definitely a joke there about talking with your mouth full, but I-”
Gerard pulled Mikey close and kissed him again, the TV emitting a loud whip-crack and another exaggerated moan, the room lighting up with the screen. He couldn't help but dig in his fingers as Mikey's tongue slipped into his mouth. Maybe in the morning there'd be tiny bruises in the shape of Gerard's fingerprints, they both bruised so fucking easily.
Without breaking the kiss Mikey rolled off Gerard's legs, settling awkwardly on the small bed between his brother and the postered wall. He started shoving and tugging at Gerard's jeans again, graceless in the dim light, whining into Gerard's mouth in frustration.
“Off,” Mikey breathed, the hand in Gerard's hair tugging at the soft black strands, blindly fumbling with his own fly with the other.
Gerard didn't hesitate, awkwardly pulling and kicking at his jeans until they were around his ankles.
“All of it, off,” Mikey said, and Gerard could hear that fucking edge to his voice, the edge that always sent shudders down his spine.
Gerard tugged down his underwear, and clumsily kicked them off with his jeans, sending them to the floor beside the bed. Mikey's wound up pooled at the end of the bed between both their feet before he kissed Gerard again, biting at his brother's lip and grabbing at his soft, pale ass, grinding their hips together.
Gerard gasped when their cocks brushed together, hot skin on hot skin. “Fuck.”
Mikey's hand snaked down between them, long fingers curling around Gerard's cock. A moan escaped the older Way's lips, a twitch of his hips as Mikey's hand started moving, slow and deliberate and not enough. Gerard's fingers made their way into Mikey's hair again, pulling him in for another bruising kiss.
When the younger Way pulled back, Gerard whimpered at the loss of contact, his fingers tightening their grip in Mikey's hair, trying to pull him back. “You're so gonna lose,” Mikey laughed as Gerard attacked his brother's neck again, trailing spit and sharp bites across the warm skin. “Y'know how I know?”
Gerard shook his head, another whine at the back of his throat as Mikey's hand slowed.
“Because I want you to lose, and I know more than anything... you wanna be fucking good for me.”
“Oh, fuck y-”
Mikey cut off Gerard's words with a kiss and a swipe of his thumb over the head of Gerard's cock. With soft nudges and Mikey's knee pressed against his thighs as some kind of silent hint, the older Way rolled onto his back again, hand still tightly tangled in mouse-brown hair as Mikey followed.
The TV was still casting a rainbow glow, flickering with reds and pinks and purples, a soundtrack of exaggerated, overplayed porno sounds falling into background noise against the sounds escaping the brothers' mouths.
Gerard's hips rolled desperately into Mikey's hand, the whine in his throat nearly pathetic. He needed more, needed Mikey's hand to be moving a lot faster than it was, or even better, get to the dick sucking.
“Please, Mikes,” he whispered, legs tensing as he bucked up into his brother's hand. He swallowed hard as Mikey hovered over him, and he could see enough in the technicolor glow to know the look on his face. The kinda look that nobody else ever got to see like this. Gerard's hand briefly disappeared from Mikey's hair to carefully push the too-fucking-cute glasses sliding off his nose back into place.
Mikey didn't answer, just slowly jerked Gerard's cock, both of them breathing heavy against the sounds from the TV. He didn't stutter when he sank his teeth into the pale flesh of Gerard's throat, all sharp teeth and no hesitation. They were both as fucking bad as each other, the way they'd unravel each other together, knowing precisely what buttons to push, every single weak point mapped and explored and exploited. Something something Way telepathy.
With a soft kiss pressed to the blooming bruise Mikey moved, biting instead at Gerard's collarbone, making him whine, all high-pitched and breathy and an almost-silent plea.
“Mikey, please.”
“You sound so damn good when you beg, Gee,” Mikey murmured, sitting back on Gerard's thighs. He dug his nails into his brother's sides, dragging them down his skin, faint pink-red trails left behind.
Gerard tensed under his brother's touch, squirming a little when Mikey's thin fingers tickled. The younger Way huffed out another little laugh, drumming his fingertips against Gerard's hips. Some days it felt like they could do this forever, and some nights that's precisely what they did. Not tonight though, not with the bet ticktickticking over in their heads.
“Don't be weird,” Mikey said, and Gerard couldn't stop the laugh even if he'd wanted to. The fucking shit they did together, every damn night... they were weird. The fucking definition of the word. Beyond weird, even, venturing deep into the realm of deviant and debauched. He knew what his brother meant though, he always fucking knew. Right now it translated to something like don't hide.
“Whatever you say, Mikeyboy.”
As Mikey rearranged himself, awkward limbs knocking into the wall as he turned around, Gerard shuffled down the bed a little further, head slipping off the pillows, breath catching in his throat.
It was graceless in the TV's glow, a mess of limbs and heavy breathing as Mikey got himself situated, knees near Gerard's shoulders, hands on his thighs. Gerard didn't wait for his brother to get comfortable, one hand wrapping around the base of Mikey's cock, and the angles were fucking awful in that moment but Gerard managed to take it into his mouth. The younger Way let out a sudden almost-yelp at the contact, fingers digging into the softness of Gerard's thighs, taken by surprise.
Gerard smiled around the cock in his mouth as his other hand found its way to Mikey's hipbone, his thumb running over the sharp angle. It was enough to make Mikey's hips twitch, bucking into Gerard's mouth, making him choke just a little. Gerard could feel the drool on his face already, cooling on his cheek, and a needy roll of those fucking pointy little hips was nothing.
Mikey took his time, hand on Gerard's cock, still jerking him off. He littered Gerard's hips and thighs with wet kisses and bruising bitemarks, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh and feeling Gerard tense underneath him. His whole fucking body, every nerve, was on fire.
Gerard hummed contentedly around Mikey's cock, rolling his hips in search of his brother's mouth. He could already feel his skin bruising between Mikey's teeth, dark and purple and framed with even darker crescents, maybe a little broken skin.
The older Way pressed his eyes shut because fuck, the image, the memory, of his blood smeared across his brother's mouth, hot and metallic and so fucking pretty was almost too perfect.
There wasn't a moment's pause as Mikey turned his attention from the softness of Gerard's thighs to his dick, taking it as far as he could into his mouth. Mikey's cock was halfway down Gerard's throat when his hips started moving just a little, just barely, bucks and twitches so small he probably didn't even know he was making them.
Gerard's rhythm completely fell apart when he felt his cock hit the back of Mikey's throat, a shameless moan as his hips bucked into his brother's mouth. It took a second for Gerard to get his brain straight as Mikey just kept going, relentless with his mouth and those stupid-pretty fingers, responding with his own moan when both Gerard's hands grabbed at his hipbones and dug in his nails.
Gerard drummed his fingers against Mikey's hips, squeezing gently as he pulled back for a moment. “Want. Fuck. Want you to f-fuck my throat.”
There was a pause, Mikey totally still with Gerard's cock in his mouth, like he was waiting for the end of a sentence, expected more.
“Please.” Gerard even sounded pathetic to himself. Pathetic and vulnerable and fucking desperate. His little brother wouldn't let him forget it later. “N-need it,” he stuttered, tongue darting out to lick the head of Mikey's cock and he felt the shudder it caused. “Need y-you, Mikey, please.”
It was a weakness they both exploited, and Gerard felt the shudder that coursed through Mikey with that final plea.
Gerard took Mikey's cock back into his mouth, letting a breath out through his nose and digging his fingers into those sharp, bony hips he loved so much. The younger Way gave in, snapping his hips forward, moaning around Gerard's cock as he forced his own head down.
One hand left Mikey's hip, the whine from the back of his throat drowned out by the sloppywetfilthy sounds of his cock hitting the back of Gerard's throat over and over, the noises he was making sending vibrations straight through Mikey and fuck. He was still pretty confident he'd win, but he couldn't deny how much he loved Gerard's mouth, his throat, the fucking things his older brother did with his tongue.
There was a stutter in Mikey's rhythm as Gerard's hand tangled in his hair again, tight enough to hurt just a little, just enough. Another obscene moan, sending shockwaves through the older Way. Mikey moved the hand on the base of Gerard's cock, lower, digging in his fingers when his brother pulled back again, a strangled groan as Mikey let Gerard set the pace while he played with his balls.
“Fuck you,” Gerard gasped, hips bucking into Mikey's mouth uncontrollably. The younger Way heard him take a slightly shaky breath before Gerard was back on his cock, fingers squeezing in a silent signal.
Mikey's hips started grinding of their own accord, needing more, and he dragged his nails across Gerard's thigh as he fucked his throat, felt him shudder. Mikey's eyes fluttered shut at the sounds he was dragging out of his brother, pure fucking sin, and he needed to win this.
Gerard was frantically working Mikey's cock with his tongue, the best he could as he tried to keep up with the increasing rhythm of Mikey's hips. He mimicked Mikey's action, moving the hand on Mikey's hip to his balls, awkward as hell from their current angle but it was enough to make Mikey pull off for a second, an obscene, strangled moan escaping his lips.
Fuckfuckfuck.
Mikey was back on Gerard's cock by the next heartbeat, briefly grabbing Gerard's wrist and squeezing, and the fingers in his hair pulled hard, hard enough it was tiptoeing the line of too much, the sounds drawn out of him sending shockwaves through the older Way.
He directed his full attention back to Gerard's cock, let his brother set the rhythm now, almost obedient with his hair pulled so hard. He could taste the precome in his mouth, slightly bitter against the taste of skin and sweat as he swirled his tongue around the tip. There was drool fucking everywhere, Gerard's thighs wet and shiny from the spit and sweat, probably all over Mikey's face, making him look like some kind of slut.
Well, for Gerard, he was, and Gerard was for him, so it was fitting. Both of them sucked dick sloppy, and Mikey could feel it running down his own thighs as Gerard's legs started tensing up.
Mikey paused, lips still brushing the head of Gerard's cock, his hand moving as fast as his mouth had been, a whine from Gerard's throat around his that made him shake. “You. Y'know what, Gee?”
Gerard didn't pause, didn't stop the relentless rhythm of Mikey's hips, the head of his cock hitting the back of Gerard's throat harder now, hard enough to leave his voice raspy in the morning.
“You're. You're s-such a good cocksucker for me, big brother.”
“Fuck!” Gerard's head rolled back onto the pillow, Mikey's cock slipping out of his mouth as he came. Mikey took Gerard into his mouth again, a line of jizz across his face, on his glasses, as he sucked his older brother dry, letting him ride out his orgasm.
Mikey didn't move as Gerard started sucking him again, knowing that after taking a load down his throat it was likely his little brother was close himself. Gerard's hips were still twitching as he took Mikey down his throat, humming around him and squeezing his balls gently, his other hand back on those pretty pointed hipbones, leaving more fingerprint bruises.
“Gee, fuck,” Mikey breathed, settling his forearms on Gerard's thighs and craning his neck to try and get a decent view, try and see his brother's sticky-wet mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, but the shadows cast by the TV's light made it just-too-dark. “I'm g-”
Mikey's words turned into something unintelligible as he came down Gerard's throat, feeling the hot air from his brother's breath. It made his hips twitch violently and his knees go weak as Gerard milked every drop of come from him, tongue fluttering over sensitive flesh as he swallowed.
They stayed like that for a little while, Mikey resting his head on Gerard's thigh, Gerard's cheek against Mikey's calf, both of them trying to catch their breath as the porno sounds and technicolor flashes filled their senses again.
It was Mikey who moved first, careful not to knee Gerard in the face as he awkwardly got up off the bed, turning to look at Gerard once he was on his feet. He opened his mouth to speak but the older Way grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down close.
“Fuck, you're perfect, Mikey,” Gerard whispered, reverent, reaching up to swipe the drying come on Mikey's face and glasses away with his thumb. The younger Way took it into his mouth, licking it clean. “So perfect.”
Mikey kissed his palm. “You want a drink?”
Gerard smiled softly and nodded, watching as Mikey turned and headed back over to the couch area. As Gerard got up and stretched out the knot in his neck, Mikey pulled on a pair of sweats from the back of the couch, plucked a movie off the bookshelf, and knelt down in front of the TV, busying himself with changing it over from the seemingly endless sex ads. Soon enough, the Night of the Living Dead menu was on the screen, all black and white and zombie green.
With a heavy sigh Gerard rose up off Mikey's bed, crossing to his own and pulling back the curtain at the foot of the bed, tucking it behind the bottom bedpost. If they tucked it in it gave them a clear view of the TV from the bed over the top of the couch. Gerard busied himself with getting his bed set up, throwing back his Star Wars duvet, fluffing up the pillows adorned with TIE Fighters and X-Wings.
Mikey came back to the bed, dropping the Dr Pepper can and the remote on the nightstand. “You wanna smoke before bed?”
Gerard shrugged and nodded, picking up the can and taking a gulp or two. He wasn't gonna say no if Mikey was offering. He picked up a random pair of sweatpants off the floor – whether they were his or Mikey's he didn’t know, nor care – and tugged them on before climbing in to bed under the covers.
Mikey crossed the room again, kneeling down in front of the TV and pulling out what they needed from the cupboard. He grabbed another can out of the mini fridge and finally settled on the side of Gerard's bed, setting down the bong and extra drink and quickly grinding up the weed.
When Mikey was ready he hit the play button, silently packing a bowl and handing the bloodstained bong to Gerard as he joined his brother in bed. Gerard smiled, kissing Mikey's cheek as he reached across to grab a lighter from the nightstand.
The green smoke was familiar and comforting as Gerard took his hit, holding his breath as he passed it back, blowing a thick cloud towards the ceiling as he burrowed down under the covers. He watched Mikey pack his own, far more interested in watching those hands – those talented fucking hands – go through the motions.
“I was almost expecting you to say loser makes breakfast naked,” Gerard chuckled as Mikey exhaled. “Porno boy.”
Mikey snorted, setting the bong and his glasses down gently on the nightstand. “And what, have you burn your dick making me waffles? I love you too much to put you through that.”
Gerard laughed, wrapping his arm around Mikey's waist and pulling them both together, getting comfortable as Barbara was running from the cemetery zombie. “I love you too.”
There was silence after that, a sleepy silence as Barbara's car went off the road. “Hey Gee?”
“Yeah?”
Mikey wrapped his arms around Gerard's, lacing their fingers together and bringing their hands up to his chest, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Your hair feels too nice, stop stealing my conditioner.”