ladyrocketdale | [ 11 reasons...: Hands' temperature ]

[mood|

scared]
[music| Headfirst for Halos ~ My Chemical Romance]

Pairing: Frank/Gerard.
For the: “11 Reasons why Frank and Gerard always are left alone.”
Table One: Human Anatomy Prompt: 07. hands
Also for the may 08 07 prompt at

we_are_cities.
Rated: NC-17, for boysex.
Word Count: 2.480.-
Beta: The queen of awesomess -

vamplover82.
Summary: Frank decides to make a move after Gerard’s years of doing nothing. Things go better than planned for both.
Disclaimer: Honestly I don’t own MCR ~~we’re not saying that they don’t own me~~. Actually I just own a small teddy bear called Mikey that says ‘I love you’ and a little guy dressed like the black parade that it’s called Ray.
Dedication: This was written 100% for

thetwistedstar, cause she needed to be cheered up – and this is my humble attempt to do that. Hope you’re better darling.
(also, as usual, for Lau, James, Em & Dani.)

.hands' temperature.
also know as 'let's make some smut for

thetwistedstar'

When Frank puts his hands to either side of Gerard’s head, he feels the cold glass of the tour bus left window. Outside it’s raining, and it’s very cold – “Poor guys and their idea of going for a few drinks,” Frank had thought briefly a few minutes ago – in contrast with the warm environment generated inside of the bus. Caused surely by male bodies being around the whole time, and the closed door and maybe, just maybe, the small oven wannabe that is turned on and off frequently in the small kitchenette.

There are also lights outside, from other busses and from the street itself. All that distracts Frank for a moment; that and the fact that his hand, which was warmer a moment ago, is losing heat because of the bus’ window, the one that now has Frank’s fingertips all over it, and Brian – who is a maniac about those small things – is totally capable of taking everyone’s fingerprints until he finds the person that made his tour bus dirty.

It’s the brief wave of air that hits his face that brings Frank back to reality. It’s Gerard’s breathing so close to him that reminds him what he was doing – pinning down the front man against the closest wall.

“What are you doing?” Gerard hisses to him, and Frank is not sure if he is really mad or if the cold of the window also got to him and is bothering the singer.

There is that old saying that goes something like actions speak louder than words. And in this moment, even the buzz of a mosquito would be louder than Frank’s voice, mostly because the guitarist seems not able to get anything out of his throat. With the saying in mind, he leans forward, presses against more into Gerard, and pushes his fingers harder against the cold window until his lips are against the other pair of lips and – Oh fucking God, he’s kissing Gerard.

In some part of Frank’s mind, he’s debating what shocks him the most. The fact that he worked up the courage to kiss Gerard or that the older man is kissing back without any resistance, and as soon as Frank’s tongue licks Gerard’s bottom lip, he’s parting his lips for the guitarist and suddenly the calm moving of their mouths turns into a battle of tongues exploring and trying to take the dominance that each believes they deserve.

He tears one of his hands away from the cold window to settle it on Gerard’s waist; he just needs to touch the other man to keep making sure that he’s here. Gerard’s response is better than what Frank had expected because he suddenly feels a hand gripping onto his neck and long, semi-chubby fingers twining in his longish black hair.

Frank doesn’t pay attention to Gerard’s other hand until he feels something pushing on his chest and prying his other hand away from the window. Gerard is pushing him away, but he’s going with him, as if he just wanted to move from the spot they are in.

“What – where -?” Frank tries to speak, tries to remember that this was his idea and Gerard should be the submissive one, the one following directions.

“Bunks, couch, I don’t care,” Gerard responds, his breathing hard and his movements a bit erratic. Maybe he’s not as much in control as Frank first thought he was; maybe he’s just as desperate as him.

They really, really, try to make it to the couch, and somehow they do. If the floor in front of it counts.

‘At least it’s not cold like the window,’ Franks thinks while he pushes Gerard down, congratulating himself for rolling over with so much grace that the singer didn’t notice he ended up against something else until he opened his eyes and looked up at Frank.

“Don’t get too comfortable, guitar boy.” He smiles.

“I wasn’t,” Frank says and rolls his hips, pressing them down against Gerard’s, making their fully-clothed erections push against each other, and making the older man let out a choked off moan. “Now I am.”

Franks knows that Gerard likes this; not only the dominance in Frank’s voice and actions, but also that the whole thing had started as a joke. Gerard had been doing that to Frank since they met years ago – he had always challenged the younger man. Looking at him with defiant eyes and a predatory smirk, making Frank want to jump on him and do all those things Gerard said that the guitarist wasn’t able to do and more.

Of course, every time that Gerard made some comment or any kind of retort, it was in a room full of people, or at least with his band-mates, and Frank couldn’t do anything.

But this time, moments ago, even before Frank had started thinking about warm hands against cold glass, it had been just the two of them. And Frank knew that this was the time.

“You can stop me, you know?” Frank says, while his hands start to unbutton Gerard’s pants.

“Okay,” Gerard speaks softly, “Stop.”

Frank gives him a confused look; he can feel Gerard’s hard on, and he’s sure that he isn’t the only one needing this to happen. He…he wants to kill Gerard when a goofy smile appears on the singer’s face.

“Take your shirt off first.” Gerard says causally, as if the moments he was silent haven’t caused Frank more pain than all of his tattoos and piercings together – and that’s a lot, as you can imagine.

But Frank can’t really stay mad at Gerard; he’s still laying on the floor of the bus, panting slightly under Frank’s legs, and he still has that shine of lust in his eyes. So Frank complies, taking his shirt off and giving Gerard a meaningful look that clearly asks the singer to do the same.

While Gerard is taking his shirt off, Frank decides to help with the clothing, and when the piece of cloth passes over the singer’s head, Gerard is just right there, his pale skin and his black hair and his pretty, deep eyes and – and Frank can’t help it; while he discards the shirt, he kisses the other man and as soon as he can, he starts touching his chest.

Gerard’s pants are forgotten in Frank’s memory as he starts to kiss down the other’s neck. Wet, open-mouthed kisses that make a funny sound against Gerard’s pale skin. Frank stops once he has reached Gerard’s left nipple; it’s pinkish in the tip, a bit darker and what looks almost tanned in the rest, and it catches the attention of Frank’s eyes and then lips, because he really has to suck that nipple. And Gerard apparently likes that idea, because as soon as Frank’s wet lips are on it, he lets out a soft moan. The volume of which starts to increase while Frank’s sucks get deeper and harder until the last one turns into a bite.

Frank’s right hand, which was entertaining the other nipple, starts to wander down Gerard’s body while Frank’s mouth goes over the dry part of Gerard’s chest. The hand, anyway, comes to find the bottoms of Gerard’s black pants and starts to work on them, not wanting to hurry and doing a good job, while the singer keeps on moaning and panting and even squirming a little under Frank.

It’s not until Frank’s hand goes inside his jeans, touching Gerard’s erection only through his boxers, that the singer comes back from that Frank-full heaven he was in and starts to actually do something other than make pretty noises.

Gerard’s pale fingers travel around Frank’s colourful back – it would be a beautiful dissimilarity if someone could observe it - and make the younger one tremble a bit and hiss.

“My hands are cold?” Gerard asks, genuinely intrigued.

“No.” Frank says, trying to get Gerard’s jeans totally out of the way

They’re both in his boxers when Franks notices the look on Gerard’s face. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” The singer answers and tries to bring the other down to kiss him, but Frank stops, his black hair falling over his eyes. “What?” he insists.

Gerard sighs, “How are we gonna do this?”

“Well, Gee,” Frank starts with a smile, “You see, when two band mates really like each other and discover their hidden lust, they decide to act on it and – ”

“Fuck you.”

“Well, yes, that’s the whole point.” Frank’s smile is a grin that looks both amused and seductive.

“So, you’re gonna let me fuck you.”

“Yes.” Frank answers, giving Gerard a confused look, “I’ve even got the lube and the condoms somewhere in there.” He points to the jacket that’s been on the couch since earlier.

“I – well, with that whole let’s put Gerard against anything act you just did, I thought - well, you were pretty dominant.”

“Baby, you can fuck me, and I still can dominate you.” Frank says in a lust-filled voice, and he attacks Gerard’s lips before the singer can say anything else.

Frank is very proud of himself, not for the first time that evening, when he finally manages to get rid of the rest of the clothes without breaking the kiss.

But Gerard surprises him and throws to hell his all-composed attitude when he gets a hand between their bodies and squishes Frank’s dick a few times, until the soft pressing is like painfully slow strokes that make the guitarist arch and moan.

“Grab the things,” Gerard says in Frank’s ear, his hand never stopping, and it takes the younger one a bit more than a full minute to know what the fuck Gerard is talking about.

Frank gets distracted for a second when he notices that the rain outside is coming down harder; he really likes that because he knows that the guys aren’t going to come back until it lets up a little. Thinking nonsense honestly wasn’t Frank’s best idea, because the next thing he feels is Gerard’s cold fingertip ghosting over his asshole.

“Now your hands are cold.” He hisses.

“Relax,” Gerard smiles, and makes a motion to turn the over, but Frank stops him with both of his hands on his shoulder. He gets closer to the singer, until his rosy lips are next to the man’s ear and Gerard can feel hot air mixed with the coldness of Frank’s lip ring. “I wanna ride you.”

Even if Gerard wants to pretend that the comment didn’t affect him, Frank can feel his breathing grow even heavier than before, and he surely felt the older man’s cock twitch at the idea.

“You ok?” Gerard asks when the third finger inside Frank makes the younger man gasp in surprise.

“You do that again and I’ll be okay.” Frank says against Gerard’s neck. Gerard smiles and does it, which earns him a bite on the side of his neck that is surely going to end up being a hickey because Frank doesn’t stop sucking into it until Gerard has pulled his fingers out of the guitarist’s ass.

“Ready?” Frank ask; even though he knows the answer, he wants to show Gerard that he hasn’t lost the control he had. When the singer nods, Frank shifts in his position and gets a bit up, until he’s able to do what he has been waiting to do.

He goes down slowly, making this a bittersweet feeling for both of them, mixing the pleasure with the torture of how long it takes Frank to actually let Gerard’s cock slide inside him. They both moan when the closeness is even more than they expected, and they end up breathing the same air, face to face.

Franks takes a moment to adjust to the feeling of Gerard inside of him, and he also uses the opportunity to observe Gerard; he looks loosened up and ecstatic, similar to what he’s like on stage, but with less clothes and a more predatory expression. He starts moving a bit, making the singer open his eyes, and they stare at each other, not gazing at anything else in the room because there’s nothing more important than the other’s eyes, full with the confidence of years and the lust that now looks as if it has been there forever.

They’re breathing at the same level before Frank lifts up a bit and pushes down, making Gerard groan a mix of the guitarist’s name with a curse or two. He repeats the movement until they get into a steady rhythm; it takes a few more minutes until Frank feels confident enough to change the angle a bit and to lift up even more, but the effort is recompensed when he goes down and feels Gerard’s dick hit his prostate.

“Fuck, Gerard -” Frank’s labored breathing doesn’t let him finish the sentence, but somehow the other man gets it anyway, and his hands are again on Frank’s shaft, moving softly and trying to find a coordination with Frank’s moves.

Their moaning echoes around the bus, that and the sound of skin hitting skin; heavy breathing forced out of tongues with half words and names and insults – all forming something that doesn’t make much sense, but it’s enough to make Frank wonder if someone from the outside could hear.

Gerard’s strokes on Frank’s cock speed up a bit, and Frank feels the well-known feeling of his muscles tightening and his toes curling on the bus floor. He’s close, and he wants to warn Gerard, but the singer presses down on his erection in the same moment that his cock hits Frank’s prostate again, and it’s too much for him and he lets go.

It’s surely the sudden tightness of Frank’s ass that makes Gerard come so soon after the guitarist, and when Frank feels that his ass is even more full than before, he keeps riding Gerard as if they were just starting, so both can ride out their orgasms in continued pleasure.

He falls on the top of Gerard after that, breathing lazily and with the content grin of a job well done. Gerard is smiling back at him their bodies covered with fluids and sweat, smelling like sex, and making them still feel high and utterly exhilarated.

Frank wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist, and his hands end up pressed between Gerard’s balmy skin and the bus floor.

“What are you doing?” Gerard asks, and Frank thinks back for a second on the question that seems like it was asked ages ago. This time, though, he does have words to answer.

“My hands are cold.” He says.

“Well,” Gerard answers, hugging Frank back languidly, “We can’t have that, can we?”

Frank says no, moving his neck against Gerard, and ends up pressing his lips to the side of Gerard’s neck.

“I’ll be your hand-warmer anytime you want.”

~*~
{table with links to all fics}
yeah, writing is human and comments are divine – but really I need to be cheered up from a soon-to-be awful weekend with comments this time! ;]

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From:

starkdependant

RAWR. Just ... rawr!
:D

From:

dry your eyes, soulmate dry your eyes, 'cause soulmates never die

[ 11 reasons...: Hands' temperature ]

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