KISS ME YOU ANIMAL-Frerard one shots

An Addict

A/N woaaah, angry, angsty, without much explanation. Smut. Wanna hear your plot theories!

I cried, shoving him away. "You fucking piece of shit, get the fuck out of my house!"

The cars were racing down the street making obnoxious noises.

Frank stumbled, like a weak child, smearing the tears with his broken hand. "But Gerard, no, you fool, listen to me."

I looked at him with pure contempt, tears stinging like flames of angry fire. "You are dead to me."

He put a foot between the door and the wall, stopping me from shutting him out. I got scared, he looked high, or drunk, or plain stupid with rage and sorrow.

Frank pushed me to the wall, his hands gripping my shoulders, he kept mumbling 'no'. I tried, god knows I tried to push him off me. I was throwing insults in his face, trying to set myself free.

But there he was, seizing into my underwear, pushing one finger inside of me. I was getting aggressive, but he also was right there and none has touched me in weeks.

"Any last words," I smiled and before I managed to pull a swiss knife out of my pocket. I pressed the blade into his neck.

"I love you," he cried passionately, pushing himself into the cold metal.

He never said it before. Said he couldn't. Said it was against his beliefs. Well, it was fine with me, like I needed to hear him say it. Like he had any sort of power over me. Manipulative son of a bitch. But life, feelings don't work that way.

It was an instinct. I dropped the knife and kissed him, smashing my lips into his, devouring his taste, his smell, him.

"Make love to me," he kept rambling on, nonsense. But my head echoed with the previous words. I cried harder whilst rubbing my tongue against his, he circled mine before pulling away slightly to leave a trail of hickeys on my neck.

"Mine, mine, mine..." 

Tears weld up in my throat. Dusty and old. Deriving from pain stuck in memory.

But he kissed like there was no tomorrow and before I realized where I was, my body lay safe in the mattress and my clothes were on the floor.

He pressed his bare chest onto mine and rolled down his hips on my crotch. I moaned and knotted my legs over his back, pushing him closer. With a finger he brushed my lips, smiling down at me, tears all dried up. 

We lay like that for a while, admiring each other's eyes. But then the familiar jolt of pain shook my stomach and I urged him to continue. Pressing soft bites along his jaw. "Come inside of me, Frank."

He shivered at my words and put on a condom. I used to like the sting, now I hated it. I hated all of it.

"How could you," I cried while he tried to push inside of me. 

"Shh, Gee, you're too tense, relax."

"I trusted you," I screamed into his face. 

But he was already on my neck, kneading with his fingers, massaging me. He moved down to my shoulders, muttering how tense I was. But then he gave me the look and I pulled his face down with both hands, kissing him, first with short cut-off pecks, then open-mouthed, wet, ardently.

He pushed in this time, it felt like he was so deep, deeper than anyone before, and it felt wrong but also felt right. Cathartic. 

He steadied himself and then began thrusting with low grunts, accompanying each slam. The slapping sounds mixing with our whines could be heard outside the cracked window. It was a hot summer night.

His hips were moving rhythmically, but his hands moved with scattered desperate motions. Rubbing my chest, my neck, pulling my hair, brushing it, brushing my lips, caressing my cheeks, my forehead, I moaned when I felt the good feeling vibrate through me.

The movements were completely in sync, me rolling my hips, his meeting my ass cheeks, it was all perfect. Except for the insides that stung with betrayal and loss.

"I'm so sorry," he started again, his tears like drops of rain falling down my face. 

It only made him go faster, the bed was moving violently, the headboard slamming into the wall. 

Sure, now he was sorry. It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I bit my lip and started pumping myself, Frank propped on his outstretched arms. 

Frank's eyes rolled back and he almost screamed, with cut-off movement, I felt warmness, and he came. I almost forgot how beautiful he looked like that. His eyes squinted, his lips pressed together tightly, his body shivering-

and then I came, fast, hard, finally.

He pulled out and collapsed next to me, smudging my come all over himself.

It lasted only seconds before he raised back up and kissed me, laying on his side, his fingers tracing my lines. "I love you, so so much," he said with each small peck. 

"I know," I sighed, "but I can't love you anymore."

He looked so broken, "why?"

"Because you ruin everything you touch, don't you see, you're like a drug. And you are well aware I'm an addict."

"Well, you can always quit later."

"See, that's why you're toxic."

"How many one last shots will you give me?"

I thought for a sec. I did love him. But I also loved alcohol and cocaine. Used to, anyway.

We went to sleep, I curled up into him, Frank's face buried in my hair. I woke up at night from a feracious dream. 

"Shhh, Gee, it's only me. Sleep, my love."

He was mumbling half asleep.

I thought that must have come from his heart. Only, I'll never really know. How can I know after what he's done to me? Over and over.

But that I knew was love. And I cried myself back to sleep, listening to his heartbeat, holding on to him like he was my own life.

"I'm a wreck without you," I whispered into his ear.

Soulmates, that I knew we were. Both impulsive, self-destructive, too passionate, hot-tempered. Bad combination. 

I dressed quietly, he was snoring soundly. The city was asleep. My life was asleep. 

I looked at the door. Pain.

What now?

Should I stay or should I go?

Goes along the question, 'who I loved more, him or myself?'