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Fuck. Finally he's fucking gone.
Gerard has never been more thankful to have Frank go home and be left with an empty house. He leaned back against the front door, having just said bye to his friend, more like crush of the fucking century, and thought about how wrong it was to feel this way about a guy you've known since you were a kid. You probably shouldn't want to violently make out with but also cuddle your childhood best friend. But Gerard just can't help it, Frank got hot. Like, fucking hot.
And of course that brings us to our next problem. When Frank was over, he'd just been sitting there fucking around on an old guitar he found somewhere in the mess of Gerard room. He recalls it being a gift from his grandma. But, Frank sat there and tested out a few chords, plucking strings, made Gerard whip around when he played the intro to Today by Smashing Pumpkins, and that was Gerard's downfall. He watched Frank's fingers move on the fretboard. The longer he watched the harder it was to cover up his fucking dick that decided it was a good idea to throw a party just then. He's been hard for what feels like all fucking afternoon because of the way Frank looked when he was concentrating on playing, he bit his lower lip a bit and his - perfect - eyebrows went all scrunched.
Gerard couldn't stop thinking about it. He tilted his head up, still against the door, and tried to calm down. Which of course, wasn't working. He took a deep breath and pressed his palm over his attention demanding cock, almost mad because his hormones just decided to fuck with him. He sighed, and was again, thankful for an empty house.
He was gonna fucking need it.
--
Gerard stomped down the stairs to his room, wading through the dirty clothes and peculiar shit all over the floor. Once he got to his bed, he laid down and pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go to his ankles. He pushed his long hair back, and thought about how this was so fucking wrong, Frank is you're best friend, the fuck, before wrapping a tight hand around his painfully hard cock and going for it.
He built up a good pace, slow and steady at first, tight fisted, whimpering, and thought about how Frank's hand wrapped around the neck of the guitar, then progressing to fast and... Unsatisfactory.
Gerard was afraid of this happening. He's so fucking mad. He is angrily jerking off thinking about Frank fucking Iero.
Gerard slowed down in defeat, glaring up at the chipped paint on the ceiling of the basement. He sighed, considering his options. Which were probably do it or don't.
"Fucking hell." He groaned. Starting to think more on the side of don't and probably just watch porn later and mope around lamely, Gerard rested his hands on his clothed stomach. He turned his head to the side, ready to give up, when he saw his cluttered bedside table and fucking remembered.
He raised an eyebrow and sat up, reaching for the second drawer handle. When Gerard opened the drawer there, shoved to the back there was exactly what he was hoping for.
He doesn't exactly remember why he got the vibrator, but it was probably as a joke on a night he got drunk with Bert or something a while back and ordered it online. He doesn't recall ever using it, and frankly he doesn't even know why he thought of it being hidden there, but it must be a desperate measures thing.
Gerard took the bright box out of the drawer - so much for the discrete packaging bullshit - and looked it over. Deciding that there was no real harm in trying, he opened the box, not really surprised with the big orange dick-ish thing he was greeted with.
