Cinderella, she seems so easy ~waycest~

drugs, idk

A/N

Reaction videos are fucking cancerous, no offense

Words: 494

~ENJOY~

***

Mikey gets home with no recollection how. The car keys are cutting a serrated line into his palm, so he must have driven, but he can’t remember it. His mind is full of Gerard’s voice, Gerard’s mouth stretched over the microphone, Gerard’s hands travelling down his body, white against the black material of his clothes.

Mikey makes it inside the front door before he pushes his jeans down, wrapping a sweaty hand around his cock. He stuffs his other wrist between his teeth, bites down hard to stop himself from screaming. Inside his eyelids Gerard is walking towards him, his fingers curling into Mikey’s shirt, pulling him closer as he wipes a thumb over Mikey’s mouth, smearing waxy red lipstick everywhere and—

Inside Mikey’s mind Gerard is smiling, wild and dangerous like he did barely an hour ago on the stage. “Pretty,” he says. “Aren’t you a pretty little girl?” And Mikey curls over himself, his fist a blur between his legs, his bare ass pressed against the door, and yes, yes, he is, for Gerard, god.

Afterwards, Mikey kneels in the shower, letting the hot water pound his back raw.

He leans on his forearms, absently soothing his tongue over the bite marks on his wrist. His skin tastes salty, like relief and fear and anticipation all rolled up in one.

He doesn’t get out of the shower until he hears the front door slam, announcing Gerard’s return.

***

The next day Mikey digs out his makeup and old clothes, everything he used to wear back when the clubs meant more than the music, when everything he was could be summed up in black eyeliner and tight jeans.

He’s more than that now, knows it with bone-deep certainty, which is probably why donning the costume of his former self would be easy.

He doesn’t though. Instead Mikey stuffs everything inside large bin bags, dumping them at the curb on his way out.

It’s time the outfit is defined by him wearing it and not the other way around.

So Mikey goes shopping. He buys makeup: heavy kohl and mascara and lipsticks in different colours; pale pink and faded red of old roses and dirty rust of blood. He buys clothes: tees and delicate button-downs, girl-jeans and girl-belts and a velvet choker. Finally, breathless and turned on, he buys a dress, short-sleeved and almost severe with its faint pin-stripes. He doesn’t quite believe he’ll ever wear it, but just knowing that he could makes his hands shake as he hands over his credit card at the till.

It’s raining when he walks out of the shop. Mikey stands in the middle of the street and tilts his head up, letting the water sluice down his face, autumn trickling inside his collar in cold droplets.

Third time's the charm, he thinks. Third time's the charm.

***

A/N

Xoxo