Work Text:
I cannot hold it, I cannot control it
I’m a… slave for you
I won’t deny it, I’m not trying to fight it
Gerard finishes their number with a flare, mimicking Britney’s closing choreography as their chest heaves. They swipe up their stack of bills off the stage and strut back down the runway to the service hallway. A glance to their right shows them that Frank is still in his office, sitting at his desk. He looks just as zoned out as he did before Gerard hit the stage. If they had to guess, he hasn’t moved a muscle for the past three and a half minutes.
They’ve been trying to monitor his mental state ever since he admitted to having constant nightmares, and the results of their study have not exactly been… Positive.
The bags under his eyes haven’t lessened. He’s hardly getting enough rest, considering that every time Gerard wakes up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, Frank is seldom sleeping. At first, they would find him on the balcony, chain-smoking and reading his copy of Slaughterhouse Five. Then, Gerard caught him in the garage wrenching on his Nissan, even though they had given it an inspection pass two days before. It was a miracle they managed to fuck him until he got tired enough to sleep through the prior night with no further incident.
They decide to visit him before returning to the dressing room to freshen up for private dances, and he doesn’t even look up when they enter the room, which is a shame considering that he’d really like their outfit. He just keeps tapping his pen on the desk and seemingly rereading the same line over and over again on a spreadsheet.
“Hey,” Gerard says softly, pushing on the back of his desk chair to make room for themself in his lap. “How’s it going?”
“Fine, I’m just tired.” Frank sighs, leaning back and finally meeting their gaze when they caress his cheek and tip his chin up.
Gerard swears they could purr at the way he smooths a hand up the outside of their thigh and pulls them closer, and he at least gives them a once-over with dull but hungry eyes. They’re wearing a short, black pleated skirt with a skinny red belt, dark nylon tights, and a long-sleeved top made of chiffon and satin with a nice leopard print. Frank does, in fact, like it quite a lot.
“One more hour, then we get to go home.” They hum and press a chaste kiss to his lips. It still doesn’t seem like he’s all there, and Gerard is starting to grasp at straws to make him pay attention. They remove themself from his knee and run an affectionate hand through his hair, then very deliberately flatten the pleats of their skirt right in front of his face. It still doesn’t garner the reaction they were hoping for. “I’ll see you in a bit, I gotta go make up for a new set of tires before next week.”
Frank simply nods with that same distant look in his eyes, and Gerard twists their mouth into a worried pout. They don’t say anything else as they turn and head back down the hall to go to the main bar area.
Frank folds his arms on his desk and pushes his head into them, wishing for nothing more than to be at home in bed. He swears he’s developed late-onset dyslexia, and everything printed on his work papers just blurs into a confusing blob. He sighs so deeply his chest hurts. Every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is carnage. Telling Gerard did make him feel a modicum of relief, but it didn’t exactly reverse the damage that was already done to his psyche.
He stacks all his papers neatly and cuts his losses. He turns off his desk lamp and heads to the exit. Jamia gives him a weird look as he passes with his pack of cigarettes and pushes through the door. Gerard is sure to be finishing up their last private dance right about now, so he busies himself with his lighter and inhales smoke deeply while he sits on the low hood of the Lamborghini.
He’s in the middle of rubbing his eyes with his palm and shuffling his fingers through his bangs when he hears the click of Gerard’s heels on the concrete. The fresh air and nicotine give him enough awareness for him to snap to attention. Gerard smiles at him as he hops off the hood and opens their door for them.
The drive home is mostly silent, save for Gerard softly singing along to the radio. If Frank hadn’t snapped at least halfway back to reality in the parking lot, he would have had to ask them to drive. Luckily, the familiarity of shifting gears with the rev of the V12 behind him and the drive to Gerard’s shop served to keep him at least semi-present.
“Is everything okay?” Gerard asks as Frank seems to get stuck in the doorway to the bedroom, staring blankly again.
“I, uh— I dunno.” He says, barely above a mumble. Gerard just waits for him to speak again, hoping something is coming. “I feel… Weird. I don’t know, I probably just need sleep.”
“True. Are you feeling a little out of control?” They approach him, and confusion clouds his expression immediately.
“What? No, I’m fine.” He says, and it sounds too practiced to Gerard, like he didn’t think about what he was saying or whether it had any truth to it.
“…Do you want to feel out of control?” They try instead, and of course, they should have spoken more plainly, because the confusion turns to fear.
“Don’t you think that’s a little counterintuitive, given all my nightmares?” Frank’s brow furrows, and Gerard lets out a fond, yet exasperated huff.
“Aren’t you tired of that expectation? Maybe it’s getting to you. It can be nice to let someone else take over sometimes. You liked what I did last night, right?”
“Yeah.” Frank nods, eyes scanning the floor.
“So let me take care of you again. Let me do the thinking.” They suggest, and Frank’s gaze flicks back up to theirs, finally.
“Oh… Yeah, okay.” He breathes, like he’s still not sure if Gerard’s playing some sort of game with him. They can’t wait to prove him wrong.
“What are you most comfortable in?” Gerard asks, and Frank just stays still, standing in the doorway while they look at him.
“My house stuff. Pajamas, I guess. It’s only a little cold.”
“Go to my dresser and bring me a hoodie that you like, and a pair of boxers.” Gerard nods to the dresser and steps out of the way for Frank, who’s so out of it that he just stares with cloudy eyes until Gerard speaks again. “Go on.”
He brings them the clothes they asked for and watches blankly while they slide their hands under his blazer and shuffle it off his shoulders, and then they move to unbutton his dress shirt. He's mesmerized by their hands and how quickly they move their fingers, and the way their sleeves almost touch their knuckles. Gerard pulls Frank’s shirt down his arms and off, and tosses it over to the laundry bin with the blazer before tapping under Frank’s arms to get him to lift them so that they can take his tank top off, too. Frank obliges, and when he tries to help by unbuckling his pants, Gerard waves him off and does it themself.
Once they have him undressed, they hand him the boxers to change into and then tap under his arms again to start pulling the hoodie down over his torso. When his head pops out of the top, they flatten the hood and tenderly brush his hair out of his face and behind his ears, and lean closer to press a kiss to his forehead and each of his cheeks.
“Come here,” they sit on the bed and motion for him to follow, pointing to the floor in front of them. “Sit with me.”
Frank obeys and reaches for them the moment his knees touch the floor, but Gerard calmly lifts their leg and plants the toe of their high heel right in the center of his chest. Frank melts almost immediately. He expects them to direct him, but instead, they tug their panties down their thighs from under their skirt and leave them around their knees, one leg still outstretched to Frank’s chest. His two surviving brain cells snap together just enough that he realizes they had their thong on over their tights, and he feels something more finally start to stir between his hips. Almost like an activated sleeper agent, he gingerly takes the thong and slides it the rest of the way down their legs, taking Gerard’s heel from his chest and cradling it in his hand reverently as he sets the underwear to the side and moves to kiss their ankle.
“Good,” Gerard purrs. They reach out and card their fingers through Frank’s hair. “Thank you, angel.”
Frank doesn’t want to push his luck, but after a few quiet moments of him mouthing at their skin through the nylons, he hedges his bets and runs his hands up their calves. They don’t say anything, and their lips are still curled into an affectionate smile. He turns his head to kiss along the inside of their legs until he reaches the hem of their skirt, and only then does he glance back up, searching for disapproval and finding none.
Gerard nods and applies the slightest pressure to the back of Frank’s skull, coaxing him to keep going, so he nuzzles against their inner thigh and buries himself under their pleated skirt to nip at their hips and finally get his lips on their erection through their stockings. Gerard bites back a moan and instead runs their fingers through Frank’s hair again.
“That’s perfect,” they half-gasp, half-hum. “You’re so good to me, honey.”
Even from under their skirt, Gerard can feel Frank bristle at the praise. They’re sure he’s coming up with at least four ways to claim he doesn’t deserve it, but for the moment, he stays quiet except for the fact that his breathing is getting harder. Gerard almost worries it’s from fighting back tears, but if that happens, they’re more than prepared.
Frank parts his lips and bites at the fabric that’s pulled taut over Gerard’s cock before letting his tongue drag along their shaft until he can wrap his lips around the head and suck them off through the tights, his hands warm on their inner thighs. Gerard’s hips buck softly, involuntarily, and their fingers tighten in Frank’s hair in a way that makes him whine pitifully. They twist them tighter and give him some resistance as he keeps at it.
“Good boy,” Gerard mutters, looking down at the movement under their skirt. “Just like that. You’re doing so, so well.”
Frank whimpers, partially from the taste of precum and partially from the fact that he doesn’t know what to do with himself when Gerard just keeps praising him for almost nothing. His mind has been racing all day— all his life— with every reason that he doesn’t deserve anything about what he’s got now, and it’s almost impossible to believe that someone like them likes someone like him. When he could hurt them, kill them, which is all but exactly what he was originally sent here to do. And now they knew, and they were still sitting here with him, and it almost made him sick to his fucking stomach.
“Frank?” Gerard’s voice is more concerned than aroused, and Frank realizes all too quickly that he must have zoned out again. He pops up from under their skirt to say something, but he’s met with their hand quickly caressing his cheek instead. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to be okay. I want you to be doing what you want to be doing, and it’s always okay if that’s not me.”
In place of a reply, Frank feels his gut churn with want and dives back between Gerard’s legs with double the fervor of before, and they yelp pleasantly at the contact. He tugs the nylon tights to get more of their length in his mouth and laves around the head of their cock, tonguing the slit with a content hum as they writhe under his touch. He feels his brain start to silence a little bit more with every sound he pulls from them.
Gerard lies back to give Frank better access, and he indulges them immediately by sliding both hands under their ass to shove them farther up the mattress and then lies between their legs, one hand snaking its way around to hook a finger into their tights and tear a hole. Frank takes his mouth off of Gerard’s cock just long enough to drool all over his index and middle finger, and goes back to working his tongue over them as he slips both fingers into their hole slowly, his own hips lurching down into the bed at the slick, tight squeeze.
He twists his wrist until he hears the loud keen he’s expecting from Gerard, and then works his fingers in and out of them at the same pace that he licks along their cock through the stockings. Gerard babbles praises through their moans and tangles both hands in Frank’s hair, bucking their hips up against his mouth and back down on his fingers until they feel the fire spread up their stomach and chest from between their legs.
“Shit, good boy,” Gerard gasps, and when they yank back on Frank’s hair, he just doubles down. Before they can stop him, their eyes snap shut, and they spill onto his tongue through the tights. “Fuck, Frankie!”
Frank withdraws his fingers and doesn’t bother to wipe his mouth before he scrambles up the bed, and up Gerard, to kiss them roughly and grab their face in both hands. The apology they were about to stutter out is caught in their throat when Frank presses his tongue to their lips and then into their mouth to find their own, and they whine at the taste of their come in his mouth.
He lets go of Gerard’s face for all of four seconds to rocket his boxers off and get a spit-slick hand on his own cock before lining himself up and bringing his other hand down to grab the backs of Gerard’s thighs. Frank’s not saying anything, but Gerard’s fairly sure they’re flexible enough for whatever he plans to do, and they don’t dare break the focus that’s displayed on his face. He’s his usual whiny, pathetic, perfect self, but his brows are furrowed, and his pupils are blown wide with something extra swirling behind his eyes that Gerard is starting to be very curious about.
At the same time that he eases himself into them, Frank slides his hands up the backs of Gerard’s thighs and presses their legs to their chest by the backs of their knees. Their own eyes go wide at the stretch, in their hole and their muscles, and they whip their head back against the bed to bark out a deep moan. When Frank bottoms out, Gerard twists both hands into the bedding under them.
“You feel so good, pretty boy.” They purr, and fully expect Frank to blush, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head once and tries to push whatever thought that statement incurred out of his mind. Gerard sighs warmly and runs their hands up his back underneath his hoodie to pull him close and whisper right in his ear. “You can fight it all you want, but nothing will make me see you the way you’re afraid I will.”
Frank shudders at not just the tickle of Gerard’s lips against his ear, but the words. They feel his full body reaction and smirk, digging their nails into his skin as he fucks them torturously slow, their thighs burning from the press of his hands.
“You’re my pretty boy,” they continue. “You make me feel… So fucking safe; protected, owned, and I love it so much.”
Frank whines from far in the back of his throat, and his hips speed up, his cock throbbing inside them. Gerard was perfectly content to let him use them, but they feel like this position could easily get them off again at this rate. Frank dips his head to kiss their neck and leave soft marks along the bottom side of their jaw.
“You take such good care of me, and you make me feel so wanted,” Gerard tips their head back for Frank. “Needed. And the worst part is that I need you so much more than I thought I would. I fucking need you, Frank.”
Frank stifles his next moan by biting down on Gerard’s neck so hard that he sees stars, and he can vaguely hear them begging him not to stop, but the only thing he can really focus on is the sound of blood rushing through his head as he pummels into them. He has their legs pressed back so hard that he swears their knees are literally touching their chest, and before he fully feels it, Frank is filling them to the brim and freeing their neck from his teeth to gasp out an unmetered moan. His hips stutter, and he searches Gerard’s face worriedly until they nod to let him know they’re more than taken care of, too. He pulls out shakily and collapses against their heaving chest, melting into the feeling of them wrapping their arms around him.
Gerard’s eyes are just fluttering shut when they feel the slightest shake of Frank’s shoulders against them, and before they can ask what’s wrong, they feel him start to break down.
“I don’t. I don’t deserve it,” Frank’s voice rattles with a brittle sob. “I lied to you.”
“You were trying to keep me safe,” Gerard corrects, and they pull Frank tighter to their chest, protectively, although they can do nothing to protect him from his own thoughts. “You did keep me safe. Anyone else would’ve just taken us out without a second thought. Literally anyone else. I am so fucking lucky it was you.”
“How could you possibly say that, when I’ve literally done nothing to help? I haven’t helped any of this; all I’ve done is put a fucking target on every one of your heads. Your family.”
Gerard pushes the two of them up and rests on their elbow, urging Frank to turn and look up at them.
“Hey. Listen to me. You’re one of us, as far as I’m concerned. You’ve helped us more than you know. You’ve helped me so much more than you know. I’m not just sleeping with you for my health— but, I do probably get a crazy workout.” Gerard cracks a smile, but Frank isn’t entirely there yet. His eyes are red with tears, and Gerard just wants to make it all better. It’s been a week, and that’s all they can seem to think about. Frank. “And there’s nobody else I’d rather work out with.”
“Right now,” Frank dismisses. “That can change. That will change. I can’t just run away from this.”
“Then don’t.” Gerard deadpans, and neither of them really knows what they mean, but Frank seems to buy it due to their conviction in saying it in the first place. He buries his face in the chiffon fabric of their top and heaves out another soft sob, clinging to them in a way that makes Gerard’s chest ache from within. “Just don’t run from me, okay?”
Frank nods against their chest, and Gerard lays them both back down again, tracing lazy circles into Frank’s back over his hoodie. There’s nothing they can say to stop him from overthinking, and he’s not entirely dramatic for doing so, but they at least start to feel his breathing level out as he listens to their heartbeat, and Gerard figures that’s enough for now.