My Chemical Romance Fanfiction

subterfuge of tiny proportions (mcr)

Frerard, smut, short
By: soundslikej

It usually takes Gerard hours to wind down from a show. 

He has this crazy wired look in his eyes when they come offstage, all sweaty and flushed and jittery. He touches people more, talks a little louder, a little faster. Even now, even after all this time, it still gets to him. The nervous energy, the screams of the crowd, the music. 

Frank watches him every night, because when he is like that, he's beautiful. And because when the stage buzz wears off, he crashes, hard and fast.

Tonight it doesn't take long. They've been on the road for one too many days, and they're all starting to get a little twitchy, a little exhausted. They've barely gotten back on the bus when Gerard comes up and wraps himself around Frank from behind, arms tight across his chest. He just stands there for a few minutes, face buried in the back of Frank's neck, breathing warm against his shirt.

"Hey," Frank says, reaching up to rest his fingers against Gerard's wrist. "You should sleep."

Gerard laughs without sound. "It's only…" he almost lifts his head to look for a clock, then doesn't bother. "It's early," he says instead. 

"Yeah," Frank agrees. "And if you wear yourself out because you're too damn stubborn to go to bed, we're all out of a job." He wiggles out from Gerard's grip and steers him back towards his bunk. "I don't know about you, but I kinda likewhat we do."

"Me too," Mikey says from the couch, earning him a glare from Gerard.

"Careful," Gerard says. "You're turning into mom." Mikey just raises an eyebrow at him and puts his headphones back on.

"C'mon," Frank says just behind Gerard's ear, pressing a hand to his back and ushering him away from the others. "Put on something that isn't…" he waves his hands at Gerard's pants, which are just this side of obscenely tight. "You know. Something you can sleep in." He curls himself around the pillow in Gerard's bunk and almost doesn't watch as Gerard peels himself wearily out of his clothes.

Almost.

When Gerard climbs in to take the pillow's place, his eyeliner is smeared, and Frank reaches up to brush his thumb against it. "Hm," Gerard says, and stretches. "I should…" he waves a hand at his face, then towards the bathroom, but doesn't seem very inclined to do anything at all.

"Leave it," Frank tells him, resting his cheek against the soft fabric of Gerard's pajamas. Gerard's hand settles heavily on Frank's hair, playing with it, fingers slowing and then eventually stopping. Frank listens to the slow beat of Gerard's heart through the fabric, letting it guide him gently into dreams.

When he wakes, Gerard is naked.

He shifts a little, thinking that maybe he should escape before Gerard wakes up, but the arm around his waist tightens, keeping him where he is. "Mmmngh," Gerard tells him, stroking Frank's hipbone in a way he probably thinks is soothing, but is actually deeply hot.

"Lost your pajamas," Frank whispers, and he can feel Gerard smile against his throat. 

"Mm," he agrees. "Got too hot."

"So instead of kicking off the sheets like a normal person," Frank says, tipping his head to look at Gerard, "you strip down in the middle of the night?"

He feels Gerard's shrug all over. "Made sense at the time," he replies with a grin, then lowers his face to Frank's neck, kissing him there slowly, making him shiver. He licks up Frank's jaw to his ear, and when he sucks the earlobe into his mouth, Frank moans out loud.

Gerard pulls back a little. "Ssh," he whispers, fingers tightening against Frank's hip. "So," he continues sleepily, as if his hand wasn't dipping into the waistband of Frank's pants, "why do you do it?"

Frank closes his eyes and bites the inside of his lip until he's sure he can open his mouth without whimpering. "Do what?" he finally manages.

He can hear Gerard's smile in his voice, the sweet little one that twists Frank into hopeless knots. "Watch me. After shows."

"Mikey pays me."

Gerard thumbs open Frank's pants. "I don't think that's true," he says in what would be his serious voice, if he wasn't teasing Frank mercilessly with his fingers.

"No," Frank agrees, trying to move up into Gerard's hand. "It's not. Please. Gerard…"

"Ssh," Gerard whispers again, and wraps his hand around Frank's cock. "See, I think," he whispers against Frank's neck, "you do it for a reason. The kind of reason that has nothing to do with the band, or the money, or my brother." 

Frank's hips move smoothly into Gerard's hand, matching his rhythm, making Frank clutch at the sheets. "I…" he tries, then gives up, biting down on his lip, seeing flashes on his eyelids as Gerard twists his wrist.

Gerard shifts behind him, leans over him. "Look at me," he says, and Frank does. He opens his eyes to see Gerard's rumpled hair, his smudged makeup, his eyes looking dark and hot in the dim light. Frank opens his mouth, starting to say something—he's not even sure what—but Gerard's other hand comes up until his fingers are resting on Frank's lips. "I know," he says. He leans down and kisses Frank slowly, hand still moving in a maddening rhythm. "I know."

Then he's crawling down the bed to pull Frank's clothes off and coming back to swing a leg across Frank, pressing down against him, hot and hard. He moves his hips the way he does when he's onstage, when he's performing. But here there's no audience, just Frank, being slowly reduced to a writhing mess by the pressure of Gerard's cock against his own. Gerard braces one hand on the bed beside Frank's head, and with the other hand he slides his fingers into Frank's mouth, silencing him. Frank sucks on them, licks them, bites them desperately, his hands clutching at Gerard's back.

It isn't until Frank reaches between them and wraps his fingers around both of them that Gerard loses the last thin edge of his control. He lowers his head and thrusts into Frank's hand, fast and erratic. No rhythm now, just desperation, and it's seeing that need in his eyes that sends Frank over the edge. He comes with his mouth open in a silent cry around Gerard's fingers. Just a few thrusts later, Gerard follows, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

He leans down on shaky arms and buries his face against Frank's shoulder. Frank wraps his arms around Gerard's back, holding him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"How did you know?" he asks, and Gerard twists so that he's lying next to Frank, one leg flung across him.

"Hmm?" Gerard asks.

"That I watch."

Gerard smiles, sweet and young looking. "You stare," he says. 

"I don't," Frank tells him, pulling a corner of the sheet over to wipe them both clean. "I'm subtle. And sneaky."

"Yes. Like a spy," Gerard agrees sleepily. "A very bad spy," he adds after a pause.

"I hate you, you know," Frank tells him.

Gerard wraps an arm around his waist. "I know," he says. "And you know how I know? Because you're a bad spy." He curls himself tighter against Frank and falls back asleep with a smile on his face.