Broken Chains

A/N:
Okay so I may or may not have made Weight of a Rosary my entire personality trait, and I may or may not have started working on a sequel the day I posted it.

I give you, Broken Chains! Part 2 of the Choosing My Confessions series!

She is literally a piece of my soul, please be gentle with her. She's fragile.

a MASSIVE thanks to my beta readers. To Carley and Cher for screaming at me and sending me pictures of you crying hysterically. To Tiggy for being supportive in literally everything I do. To Jess for fueling me with far too many pictures of Frank Iero.

As always, I am also @pixie_revolver on twitter, and you are more than welcome to come yell at me <3

TRIGGER WARNING
In this fic, there is a specific instance describe of INTENSE homophobia including the F slur. Please enter this story with caution, and be kind to yourselves <3
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"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Frank, I'm sure."

"But like really sure? Really, really?"

"Frankie," Gerard looks over his shoulder at his boyfriend who's standing there looking lost, holding an all too familiar flogger. Gerard is the one usually holding it, and he has to admit that it looks a lot more intimidating when it's staring at him from someone else's hand.

"It's different." Frank says seriously, his fingers picking over the steel studs braided into the black leather of the falls. "Being on the receiving end."

If Gerard weren't currently bound by his wrists to a literal cross , he might pop a hip to the side, or even put his hands on both of his hips for full emphasis, but as it is, he settles for rolling his eyes. "I'm aware. In case you forgot, I whipped myself bloody with that thing."

"Okay, yeah, but that was you . This is me ," He says, and he's nearly whining. "It's different ," He insists again.

He's right, obviously. It's going to be different. But everything has been different since they've been together. Gerard let the man fuck him, for goodness sake. Many times since he'd casually moved in. Everything with Frank is different, and that's what Gerard loves about it. About him .

"I want it to be different, Frank, that's the point." He says, still craning his neck, but it's putting a strain on his muscles and he huffs a little now. "Either come over here so I'm not breaking myself to look at you, or get started."

Frank's hand grips around the handle of the flogger a bit tighter, but he steps forward and to the side until he's in Gerard's line of sight. Gerard is then able to rest his cheek against the cool wood of the cross, and he gives Frank a gentle smile for his efforts.

He sighs, reaching out a hand and caressing Gerard's cheek lightly. "Hurting you is fun," Frank starts, and Gerard has a brief second where he has to push down the laugh that threatens to break out of his mouth. "But I'm serious, Gee, this is different . It's different than hands, and it's a lot different when you're tied up, and it's different here , and–"

"If you don't want to do this," Gerard cuts him off before he can go off on an anxious ramble, "Then we don't have to. But I want this. It's going to hurt, and it's going to be different, and I know that, but it's you. You'll take care of me. You always take care of me."

Frank looks at him for a long moment and shakes his head, rolling his eyes and letting his lips curl into a grin, "Why do you have to make everything so sappy all the time?" He asks before he shifts his hand until it's ruffling Gerard's hair, and then he shoves it playfully, knocking the older man's head lightly into the wood.