Caffeine and Smoke -frerard-

Chapter 27

The house was fucking packed.

Probably our biggest crowd yet. And what was I gonna do? Some weird ass 'romantic shit'. Now that I think about it this was a bad idea.

My dick thought otherwise.

"Frank! Sound check!" Gerard screamed into the mic.

The crowd cheered violently.

I was about to throw up violently.

Just as I was about to ditch completely, I got my queue and the show started. As soon I got into it, I didn't even feel anything. It was just adrenaline and pure passion. I glanced at Ray a few times, making sure he was doing okay, along with Mikey, Gerard, and Bob, the new drummer. They all seemed fine. Gerard winked at me once or twice and for those who caught it, squealed.

I eventually made my way to Gerard, still doing my part. I put my head on his shoulder, mouth open, sweat dripping. The crowd got louder. Gerard patted my head, smiling, singing still. I turned around, putting the back of my head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, his hand sliding gently into my shirt. His fingers dug in a little, making what people have referred to as my 'porn mouth'. I thrust forward out of Gerard's grasp, blowing a kiss at him. Holding up his hand as if to catch it, he smirked.

I went deaf from all the screaming.

...

"And that's what you call romantic, Frankie? Might've just sucked my dick on stage..." He purred.

"I was trying to keep it PG-13, Gee." I purred back at him.

"Oh shut it you too. You can fuck later. Help us pack up, would you?" Bob teased, shoving his kit into some boxes.

"I still don't get why we have to help with the crew..." Mikey mumbled.

"Cause," Gerard started, "they work so hard, we should at least help with our stuff."

Mikey sighed, rolling his eyes at his role model of a brother. I say this because, well, Gerard's drinking is back. Now that he's legal, he drinks what he can get his hands on. He yells at Mikey when he finds drugs on him, but he should really practice what he preaches. His coping methods include drinking too much cough medicine, drinking in general, smoking, and the occasional hardcore drug.

It broke my heart.

I understand maybe having a fun night with the boys or something and getting drunk, but doing it almost every night? Even he's said he won't make it to 25.

"On a scale of shitfaced to sober, how drunk are you?" I asked Gerard.

"Eh, a little more than buzzed. Wearing off." He said, handing a microphone to a sound guy.

"Good that means I can fuck you with good morals," I whispered in his ear.

He shuddered, "I love it when you talk good to me."

"Okay, boys! You're good! Head out!" Someone called out to the lot of us.

Gerard grabbed my hand and led me to the tour bus. The boys were gonna go out and get Chinese food, so that gave us time to...well.... you know....

Before I knew what hit me, as soon as Gerard and I entered that damn bus, he pushed me against the wall hard. He crashed his lips against mine, moaning already. I gripped the hair on the back of his head, pulling gently. One of his hands was palming me through my jeans. I grew hard. I could feel Gerard's on me, because he was practically humping me.

I pulled away, "Let's do something different. Let's get...rough."

He squirmed.

I pinned him against the wall, biting and sucking at his neck, making him moan extremely loud. I found his sweet spot after a minute of searching and sucked until it bruised. I smiled, a trail of spit connecting my mouth and his neck.