Demolition Lovers (Frerard)

11: Look There's A Vague Notion Of Plot In This Chapter!

And maybe that was just how it had to be: the artist pressed down against his bed as the whole world faded away, because if Frank Iero was good at anything, it was fucking problems away, and really, it seemed to be a communal effect.

Also, well it was sex with an attractive guy - it wasn't like Gerard was having a bad time here: any way you looked at it.

"Don't fucking move." Frank's tone was rough, and as was the grip on Gerard's hips with which he held the twenty eight year old down against the bed. "You hear me, you fucking slut?" And dear god, Gerard did, but it took everything just to obey him: his senses in overlord, as he was driving himself crazy here.

"Y-yeah, fuck, F-Frank..." His voice was strained out and muffled slightly, yet still, he forced his gaze into Frank's, nodding at the twenty four year old: he was okay, and he certainly wasn't going to give in just yet.

"Yeah, that's right, baby, I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to be a good slut and shut the fuck up, yeah?" And just like that, Frank was pulling Gerard's thighs apart like they were nothing, and the artist melted into nothing at his touch: this was Frank's kind of art, and this time he'd not be the artist, but the subject.

"Yeah." Gerard sighed out, throwing his arms back against the mattress as Frank rolled on a condom and lubed himself up, and really, Gerard couldn't help but be a little on edge: sure, this had happened before, but fuck, this was Frank, and somehow Frank just made everything so much more important than it really was, not that Gerard complained, for the most part, at least.

"God, how are you always so fucking tight, Jesus fucking Christ, I fucking prepped you and everything, god- ah..." Frank moaned out, hands moving down from Gerard's hips to his thighs - spreading them apart and keeping Gerard open.

"Fuck..." Gerard moaned out, wincing a little at first from the stretch, but god, this was Frank, and it wasn't like Gerard hadn't had things up his ass before.

"You want me to fuck you harder, do you?" Frank smirked a little, watching the artist's face: sheen with sweat and his lips completing in with a perfect little explicit 'o' shape, and really, like that, Gerard looked like the whore here, and not Frank.

"Yes-" Gerard began, only for Frank to cut him off, pushing himself further into the artist, and releasing nothing short of the dirtiest moan he'd ever heard from the older of the two.

"Yes what? Manners, you fucking whore - don't forget them." Frank smirked, grabbing Gerard's wrists and pinning them up against the mattress, and leaning over the artist, pressing him down further, and fuck, Gerard would be a liar if he said that he didn't absolute fucking love being dominated like this, even if only by a certain Frank Iero.

"Yes... yes please." Gerard sighed out, groaning as Frank thrust into him with everything he had, and of course, hitting his prostate at the same time, pulling nothing short of a scream from the artist's lips. 

"Good boy- fuck..." Frank sighed out, panting a little: he too was fucking hard and over sensitive beyond belief, but he'd put up with the ache and need just to tease and fuck his slut for a few more minutes: Gerard was everything to him, even if he struggled to admit as such. "Such a fucking good boy, I'm so fucking hard for you... I fucking want you... I need you-"

"Then take me." Gerard stuttered out, shaking as Frank continued to thrust into him: sloppier than before, and with only a vague notion of rhythm, but fuck, he didn't care: it felt too good for him to even consider caring. "Take me, Frank."

"I'm tempted, fuck, I'm tempted, but you're not begging enough, are you?" Frank grinned at that, thrusting forward again, and nearly letting go in the process, because fuck, Gerard was one tight slut, but not one that deserved it, at least not yet anyway.