Work Text:
The energy is frantic as they travel back to the hotel. Everyone’s bouncing on their toes and jabbering away about tonight’s show, and did you see the fucking audience, and they loved it, they ate it up, and Ray, that solo at the end! They’re all a little loopy and out of their minds and punching each other on the shoulder and all that.
Once they’re back at the hotel, the energy dampens a little bit for Ray and Mikey, who both look exhausted as hell and announce that they’re going back to their room. Gerard bids them a cheery goodbye, and gives Frank one of those grins once the door is shut. Something flips in his stomach, and he can barely stay still as Gerard keys open the door and pushes it open.
Frank gets about a second of breathing room between the door shutting and him being shoved up against it and, oh, Gerard’s wasting no time here at all. Their crotch is right against his ass, grinding their whole body against Frank’s back.
“Fuck,” Gerard gasps. They moan as Frank feels their boner against his back, “Fuck! Fuck, we’re so back.”
“I know,” Frank responds. His hair is still crazy sweaty and he’s panting so hard from exhaustion but he’s crazy turned on, feeling the blood rush to his dick so fast he can barely breathe from how much blood isn’t in his head. Then, a hand on his waist roughly turns him around and his back slams into the door as Gerard plants their mouth on his and practically slobbers on him. There’s so much spit and tongue and it’s disgusting and Frank needs more.
“Fuck,” Gerard moans, and they nudge open Frank’s thighs with one of their own. “Grind on it, grind on it, you son of a bitch.”
Frank immediately obeys, humping Gerard’s thigh desperately. His face is hot and his whole body is tingly and he’s hard, he’s hard, Gerard all around him, tongue back on his, their spit in his mouth, them invading his senses. Gerard, Gerard. He pushes his hips down and lets his head roll back against the door. “Oh my god, Gee.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Gerard growls, grabbing Frank by the throat. “Fuck, you’re so hot. You were so hot.”
Frank nods in agreement. He’s not being choked, not in the slightest, but it’s hard to breathe. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, he thinks, but he takes the lack of air he’s getting as a good sign and pushes his hand down Gerard’s chest until he’s got their bulge and he palms them through their jeans.
“That’s good,” Gerard moans. “Fuck, I need you. Can I fuck you?”
“Yes, God, yes.” Frank gasps. He runs through a laundry list of things Gerard could do to him right now that he’d be okay with. He gets through stabbing him and fucking his open wounds, spitting in his mouth, making him hurl on their cock, and tying him up and fucking him senseless without any way to say no before his eyes are rolling back in his head and his vision is going white. “Oh, fuck.”
Gerard yanks him off the door and shoves him towards the bed with one hand, and their strength knocks all the wind out of Frank. He obediently falls down on the bed closest to the door and Gerard doesn’t even bother kicking off their boots before they slink onto the bed, eyes wide and feral and smile sick. “Obedient little thing. Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to do anything but be on your knees during tomorrow’s show.”
“Gee–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Gerard spits, their hand coming up to his face. They briefly pause, seeming to calm themself. “Can I slap you?”
“Please.”
Gerard smacks him hard across the face. “You son of a bitch,” they laugh. They’re cackling now, knee in his crotch and there’s so much heat and pressure encasing his cock and he dry sobs. “Oh, you needy little son of a bitch.”
They’re both panting as Gerard’s face comes into Frank’s neck and they desperately rut against him, and they’re so hard against Frank’s thigh and he threads his fingers through their hair, trying to hang on to anything.
“Pull it, pull it,” Gerard begs. “Pull my hair.”
So, Frank does. And Gerard moans, loud and aggressive and deep in their throat. They drop their forehead against Frank’s. “Oh, god.”
Frank can’t stand having clothes on anymore, so he pushes Gerard off of him and rips his own shirt off. Gerard follows suit, peeling out of their sweaty shirt and moving back to unzip their boots and kick them away. It’s this symbiosis of movement, like looking in a mirror, as they both get undressed in front of each other. Once they’re both down to boxers and socks, Frank is being tackled again, and he’s making out with Gerard, hands in their hair, pulling their hips down onto his.
It’s reminiscent of how this kind of thing used to happen, with pure electric energy, and it’s so good. Because the show was fucking incredible, and the audience ate the set list up, and Gerard’s so fucking hot on their knees and stabbing a man and humping his corpse and nearly fucking that speaker. It’s good, Frank needs more, and he needs Gerard on him, in him, right this fucking second.
“You have to fuck me,” Frank says, pulling back from Gerard’s mouth. He doesn’t bother wiping their drool off of his chin because it’s going to be back in a second anyway.
“You’re not in a place to be bossing me around,” Gerard snaps, and Frank angles his knee up to put pressure where it matters. Their whole body convulses around him. “Fuck, nevermind, I changed my mind. Oh, god, yeah, Frankie. Frankie, fuck, good boy.”
He pulls their hair and gets their mouth back on his, and there’s so much tongue and they'ree moaning like crazy into his mouth and Frank thinks he could get off just like this, with Gerard’s whole body responding to the pressure of his knee, them humping his thigh and cumming in their boxers prematurely. He groans, his head feeling so hot that it’s difficult to feel anything else.
“Back, head back,” Gerard commands him, and that’s the tell that they’re so horny they can barely see, when they’re reduced down to half-sentences and barely-there commands. Frank obeys. “Mouth open.” When he gets his mouth open, he automatically knows to stick his tongue out and he feels like Gerard sucking their cheeks in and then spitting in his mouth happens in slow motion. They’re immediately pushing his mouth shut. “Swallow it, swallow it.”
Frank should feel nauseous and freaked out but all he wants is Gerard’s cock inside him. It doesn’t even matter where. Gerard could do fucking anything to him at this point and he’d get off to it. “Please, please—”
Gerard pulls back. “On your stomach.” Frank can’t move fast enough, scrambling to be as vulnerable as possible for his Gerard. There’s a sharp smack on his ass and then Gerard’s weight and heat draped over his back, their voice in his ear. “Could do anything to you like this, huh? Fuck you any way I wanted? Ask you to do anything?”
“Yes, yes,” Frank replies without hesitation. “Please, fuck, I’m—”
“Hard as hell? Desperate? Yeah, I see that.” Frank can feel that smug ass look on Gerard’s face without even needing to see them. “Stupid fucking puppy.”
Frank’s boxers are ripped down and he watches them fly across the room out of the corner of his eyes. The thought of how rough Gerard could be with him right now, the welts and scratches and bruises they could leave him with. They could fuck him so bad he wouldn’t be able to move for days, rip him open, crawl inside him, stab him and fuck the wound, and— “Gee, please, I, I fuckin’ need you.”
“Need me?” Gerard coos, latching onto that show of desperation. “So desperate, gonna let me do anything to you, huh? Fuck you until you’re begging me to stop? Make you choke on my cock? Fit my whole fucking hand inside you?”
Frank writhes against the mattress, the drag of his cock against the bedsheets almost unbearable. “Gerard—”
“Write all over you in Sharpie…” Gerard pulls back and threads a hand in Frank’s hair, yanking as hard as they can. It hurts like fucking hell and Frank can’t help the strangled cry of pain that rises from his mouth. The pain is bright and he thinks Gerard ripped out a couple strands, but this show of strength is too much. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. “On your face, two arrows pointing towards your mouth. ‘Aim here.’ Let ‘em cum inside you over and over again, both holes, all plugged up, nothing gettin’ out.”
Gerard’s off their fucking rocker, and it makes Frank grind against the mattress, but the weight on top of him prevents him from getting too far.
“Or…” Gerard’s voice gets darker, and they take Frank’s chin in one of their hands, pulling it to the side as far as his head can comfortably go. Their face is suddenly in his, their eyes dark and hungry. They’re going to fucking devour him alive. “Just us. You bound and gagged and blindfolded. Me and Ray, same time, you can’t tell who’s who. Hours and hours and you can’t fucking take it. Can’t get away. Can’t say no.”
Frank’s gonna cum just from this, and he tries to tell Gerard, but all that comes out is this choked off moan, because he’s so tingly and hot and fuck, Gerard’s pinning him down and he has nowhere to go. He’s trapped, trapped, trapped.
“Fuckin’ puppy,” they pant. “My stupid, dirty fucking puppy. Thinking about your bandmates like that?”
Frank groans in agreement. “Yours, yours, your…”
“My fucking what?” They push down on the back of his head and pin his face in the pillows, making breathing even harder than it already was. “What are you, you fucking slut?”
“Your dumb puppy,” Frank gasps, trying to push himself up for just a breath of air, but Gerard’s so much stronger, so much stronger, so much stronger. He’s weak and powerless here and completely at their mercy. “Your…your slut, please, I can’t breathe.”
“Little fucktoy can’t breathe,” Gerard taunts, but they yank Frank back by the hair and he takes big breaths, in case Gerard’s about to start choking him or something. “Oh, god, fuck, you don’t deserve to breathe, you—”
Frank’s gonna cum. He’s gonna cum and then he’s gonna fucking die because it turns him on like fucking crazy when Gerard talks like this, when they’re mean and vulgar and talking out of their ass about all the different ways they’re gonna make Frank never forget them, their hands, their mouth, their cock. He never will. There’s nothing better than the feeling of getting fucked by Gerard, of being something that they play with, experiment on. “Shit, Gee–”
“Puppysluts don’t fucking speak without permission,” Gerard growls. “Don’t make me choke the disobedience out of you.”
Frank physically feels his cock twitch against the mattress. He waits for permission, because he knows how this one works.
“Speak, little bitch.” Gerard grabs his hip and rolls him over, and Frank watches the muscles in their biceps tense and untense and it’s so hot. “Bark for me, what’s my little puppy gonna yap about?”
“Please, please, need your cock so bad, gonna go fucking crazy, shit, baby, please, I need you so bad,” Frank babbles. He’s so out of his mind and frazzled and his wires are all crossed, turned on by the thought of Gerard stabbing him, stabbing him, stabbing him, beating the shit out of him, beating him into the ground and kicking permanent bruises into his ribs with those boots, those boots. “Gonna cum, wanna, wanna do it on your cock, please, please.”
“Good slut,” Gerard croons condescendingly. “Can my puppy tell me what he needs? Sure my cock’s all you want? Anything else going on in that fucked up little brain of yours?”
“When you—” Gerard slaps him across the face, but he knows he had permission to speak that time, so they’re just being mean. He bravely continues in the face of adversity. “When you…Charlie…when…”
“Go on,” Gerard says. They’re suddenly up and off the bed, and Frank follows them with his eyes as they retrieve strawberry lube and throw it down onto the bed. They push a thumb into the band of their boxers. “Tell me what’s turning you on.”
“When you…” The words are thick and heavy inside of Frank’s throat, and he has to swallow several times to get them out. “When you stabbed him. Straddled him. Took out…took out his intestines.”
“Yeah?” Gerard peels their boxers off agonizingly slow and Frank gets to watch the head of their cock peek out, a thread of pre-cum that looks so tantalizing that Frank would pay a million dollars to suck it away. “Turned you on when I killed a guy? Fucked his corpse? Did you wanna see me put it one of those stab wounds?”
Frank sobs against and nods, and he can feel tears building in his eyes. Gerard’s so mean and it’s so perfect and fuck, how is he so close already?
“Good boy can tell me what he needs,” Gerard coos. “What else he need? C’mon, c’mon, tell me.”
Frank blinks up at Gerard and wonders how he looks. If it’s anything like how they look, with their hair sweaty and sticking up and their eyes huge with horny desperation, he knows he’s a fucking treat. “I’m…”
“Out with it, you little bitch.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, please…” Frank pauses, collects himself. “Please. Fuck me. Need to cum. Gonna go crazy, Gerard, Gee, sir—”
“How’s my puppy want it?” they goad, still standing at the foot of the bed. They have the audacity to bring a leg up to rest on the bed like how they do on stage. “No prep? Rough and mean? Tearing you fucking apart?”
A bead of pre-cum bursts from the head of his cock and it’s humiliating. He hides his face in his hands and begins to genuinely cry, tears rolling down his cheeks. It’s hard, and it hurts, and he’s so vulnerable, so powerless, and he needs them, needs them, needs them.
“Hey, hey,” Gerard’s voice is suddenly soft and calm, and Frank feels them crawl up the bed, bracket his hips with their knees. “Talk to me.”
“You’re—” Frank chokes on what he’s trying to say. What’s he trying to say? His cock hurts. Everything is bright and loud and it’s too fucking good. “I…”
“Are you okay?” Gerard immediately asks. “We can stop.”
Frank vigorously shakes his head. “No, no, I’m okay. I’m just…You’re…”
Gerard places a hand on his hip and slowly thumbs circles into his skin. “I’ve got you.”
“Please, just, wanna cum,” Frank confesses desperately. As tantalizing as the idea of being fucked by Gerard is, he’s hard, and it…it really hurts, and he just wants skin on skin and he doesn’t want to deal with prep or anything. He…he needs instant gratification. “Just…now…please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, ‘m sorry.”
“Can you uncover your face for me?” Gerard’s voice is syrupy, and Frank leans into it so hard. He pulls his hands away. “Oh. Fuck. Fuck, Frank, you have no idea what you do to me. No idea at all.”
Considering that Frank’s harder than he’s ever been in his entire life and his cock is right up against Gerard’s, he thinks he does know, but he takes their word for it. “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Gerard hushes. “Let me handle this. My brainless little puppy doesn’t need to worry about a thing.”
Frank can only sob an agreement, and he wipes away his tear tracks because it’s fucking humiliating to be crying over this, but Gerard smacks his hands away. “No, leave them.” He nods desperately. “Sit up against the headboard, puppy.”
The positioning is slightly uncomfortable, but Frank gets the idea when Gerard shuffles forward, stretches their legs out in his direction and wraps them around his waist. Then the lube, and the sudden cold jolt on Frank’s cock. He steels himself and manages to not jump as Gerard slicks him and then himself up.
“Don’t be bad,” they command, wiping their hand on the bedsheets beneath them before putting a hand on Frank’s throat. “You’re gonna be good and take exactly what I give you.” Then, they have both their cocks in one hand and quickly starts to jerk them both off, and Frank is gone, up in the clouds, can’t see, speak, hear, can’t do jack shit. He’s too lost in the focused rhythm of Gerard’s hand as they work his cock and moan and groan and bite their lip and let their eyes roll back. The hand comes off Frank’s throat and they use it to pin themself up so they can fully throw their head back and Frank just watches, watches their Adam’s apple bob and the line of sweat that traces their jugular vein. They’re so beautiful, so beautiful. His beautiful girl.
“Gerard,” he moans. “Gee, I’m—”
“Not until I say,” Gerard grunts, thumbing over the head of Frank’s cock just to be an asshole. “Don’t be bad, you little bitch.”
Frank is trying. Frank’s trying so hard. He’s gonna fucking die he’s trying so hard not to cum. The overwhelm is so hot beneath his skin, a thrill that swamps him and elevates him to a new plane of existence. Too good. Too. Fucking. Good.
So, he holds back, even as Gerard is clearly getting close, pushing their hair out of their face and humping their own hand and gasping for air and grunting like they’re getting fucked up the ass.
He’s gonna be good. And he’s not gonna be bad. He cringes back from Gerard’s touch because he doesn’t know how much longer he can do it, and he’s always sucked at orgasm control, but Gerard’s suddenly so close, forehead on his, jerking them off like there’s no tomorrow.
“Tell me,” they pant. “Tell me where you want it, Frankie.”
All the possibilities run through Frank’s head, a mile a minute rememberings of how many times Gerard has cum on him or spit on him or bled on him. He gasps. “My mouth, please, in my mouth.”
Frank’s suddenly being half-dragged, half-pushed onto the floor, and then Gerard’s cock is in his mouth, overwhelming him with the stink of sweat and unwashed skin and musk and musk, and fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—
Frank can barely breathe, and he’s gagging around Gerard’s cock, and then they’re pulling back and they’re pulsing inside his mouth and he steels himself to swallow. It’s bitter and it’s gross, but Frank manages to capture all of it.
“Wait!” Gerard commands, and Frank immediately does. They slowly pull the tip of their cock from his lips. “Mouth open.”
Frank opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, letting Gerard see their work.
“Fucking slut,” they jeer. “My good, stupid slut. Swallow.”
Frank obeys, grimacing as their whole mouth is swamped in the acrid taste of Gerard’s cum.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Frank says.
“Good puppy,” they breathe. “Now, come up here for your reward.”
Frank’s up and in Gerard’s lap in an instant, and once he’s stable, they waste no time with jerking him off and making out with him, tongue feeling up the inside of his mouth.
“Gonna—” He drools against Gerard’s mouth. “Gonna cum, please, please, can I cum?”
“Good puppy, good puppy,” Gerard coos. “On my count, okay? One…”
Their pace is still agonizingly fast and Frank whimpers with the effort of holding on.
“Two…”
His stomach’s so tight. He’s gonna…he’s gonna…
“Three. Cum. Cum, Frankie.”
He explodes. He doesn’t…pass out exactly, but it’s intense, and he’s breathing all ragged and fucked up as he cums and cums and cums in Gerard’s hand and he convulses in their lap. He holds onto them for dear life, feeling his vision blur with funny shapes and his hearing muffle like his head’s been stuffed full of cotton.
Frank’s vaguely aware of being half-carried, half-dragged to the other bed, being laid against soft sheets. He’s so not in this world right now, still coming down from his aggressive orgasm. He feels a washcloth against his groin and flinches away so hard that it startles him.
“Hey, none of that,” Gerard demands. “Let me clean you up.”
Frank tries to breathe calmly because he’s so fucking sensitive, but Gerard’s also careful with him, only touching him when they absolutely have to. And Frank’s fallen asleep without cleaning up that strawberry lube before, and it fucking sucks, so he tries to cooperate as much as he can. Half-awake, he watches Gerard peel off their socks, grab a clean blanket from the closet, and collapse into bed next to him.
When they're both warmed and tucked in, Frank's head resting back against the pillow, he says: "Fuck."
"Yeah," they agree.
"This tour is gonna be great," Frank whispers.
"I know." Gerard curls into Frank's side. "We're killing it."
"We really are." Frank kisses Gerard's hair and reminds himself that they both need showers tomorrow. But there's time. There's always time.