ஜ Capricious & Evanescent ஜ Assorted and Mainly Frerard One-Shots ஜ

There's A Hole In My Chest, And I Don't Think It's Leaving Room For Anyone

Waking Up//PVRIS

tw//self hatred, smut

"I've had a lot of partners... I couldn't deal with the company of another bloodsucker forever. Not enough... feeling... or libido, actually, but I won't get into that now... and they're all so pretentious." Gerard leaned against the wall and looked up at the night sky through the window. The cold, eerie grasp of night leaked in through the window, and I shivered as its freezing hold washed over my body. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask Gerard a question about other people he'd fucked so soon after our own sex, and I was... feeling things.

"For example, Bert," Gerard drawled. His gaze traveled to my spot on the bed and raked down my body. I swallowed. "1960s. Cute. He was uncomfortable around me, but for some reason he stuck around. Died, of course—killed by some homophobes. Funny, usually I'm the dangerous one... Or at least the people after me are what end up killing my partners."

I shifted uncomfortably. Gerard turned back to the window, pallid white skin glistening in the pale moonlight. I knew why Bert stuck around. The same reason I did.

"Of course I didn't feel much for him, so it wasn't a big deal. Humans are disposable. Almost everything is." Gerard swallowed, looking at the floor. "I kinda wish it wasn't like that, sometimes." He turned his gaze towards me, taking a few steps forward and sitting down on the bed. As much as I always feared Gerard, as much as his lurid, slit eyes felt like they were boring into my very soul, I couldn't help but let him crawl on top of me... like always.

He pressed his lips against mine, soft and slow, unlike usual. Normally, he just took what he wanted from me as long as I didn't say no, which always made the prospect of things like blowjobs a little scary for me, even if he seemed conscious enough not to force me down on him. But nonetheless, now he was almost careful, treating me like I could break at any moment.

"Gee..." I whispered in a moment where I got air, tangling a hand in his long black hair. He made a little noise in response, but didn't acknowledge me fully. And maybe that was best. If he didn't acknowledge me, I didn't have to care about what he said about Bert, not about how he died.

It didn't matter, of course. I'd give myself to him, no matter what he said. I'd give myself to a murderer. I wouldn't care about anything he did to me—he could cage me like an animal, feed on me like a lot of other vamps did to people. Starve me. Kill me.

I wasn't worth enough to anyone else.

"Ngh..." Gerard mumbled. I turned him over, pinning him down against the bed, rolling my hips against him as I let go of his lips and trailed kisses down his neck. "Frank, you really wanna do this so soon?"

"Mmph..." I murmured, nodding into his neck. He didn't say anything as inched his legs apart, or as I ran my thumb over the head of his cock. He didn't say anything as I gently went up and down my length, or as I lubed myself up with the bottle still left on the nightstand. His mouth just fell slack, his face registering bliss with every pump of my hand. He only grunted a little bit when I pushed myself into his already prepped entrance, his tight walls making me shiver almost as much as the frost coming in through the window and dancing between our bodies.

I didn't mind his silence so much.

He didn't have to say anything. I knew how he felt.

I thrusted into him harder, eliciting a sharp gasp from the beautiful creature below me. He dug his fingernails into my back as if they were push pins in a cork board. It was better that he was speechless. If he didn't speak, he couldn't say anything about Bert. He couldn't say that he was murdered in that calm voice, without an inkling of sadness in his voice. He couldn't talk about how he didn't care about people.

Gerard moaned, a high pitched noise as he came for the second that night, the white liquid spilling all over my hand and onto his stomach.

If he was moaning, he couldn't talk about how he didn't care about me.