Plagiarism

Fic: Hot Metal (Frank/Gerard, dustverse)

Fic: Hot Metal (Frank/Gerard, dustverse)

So I wrote some Dustverse porn...

Fandom: Bandom - MCR

Title: Hot Metal

Rating/Pairing: NC-17, Frank/Gerard

Length: 3 688 words

Warning: Reference to off-screen character death

Summary: Desert Trans Am porn.

Author's Note: Follows on from This Might Get Messy, Kids, so it'll make more sense if you read that one first. Dustverse with a nod to some of the new Killjoys canon we got from Art Is A Weapon. Huge thanks to shiningartifact for the incredibly thorough beta.

Cover Art by the supremely talented aneas

Hot Metal

The steering wheel of the Trans Am vibrates under Gerard's fingers, wind rushing in from the open window whipping his hair into a frenzy, strands smacking over his face as he tears down the road. He's not looking at the dial, but they're going fast enough that everything outside is a blur. It's a rush but it's not enough.

Every atom of his body is still singing with adrenaline, still feeling the shouts of the crowd as the surging mass of bodies screamed up at him, not even knowing the words half the time but baying for more and he fucking gave it. He gave it all.

He hadn't forgotten what it felt like, not really, except he had, because fuck, it was amazing. Everything he's been missing, everything he's been aching for, throwing his voice out on the airwaves and getting nothing back. No, this rush, every cell of his body fizzing like It's gonna explode, it's too much for a memory, it's got to be experienced.

Frank's caught it too, he's been riding it since they left the venue, twitching and climbing on anyone and anything. He's got his head hung out the window now, hair whipping, howling into the wind like a dog, and Gerard can't help but laugh. Frank collapses back into the passenger seat, giggling, and Gerard tears his eyes from the road long enough to shoot him a wide smile. They're invincible like this - all of them. Nothing can stop the message now.

"Gee hold up." Frank shoots an arm up, pointing toward the horizon, and the flash of pink and blue is enough for Gerard to yank the steering wheel and hit the brake, spinning the Trans Am and taking them off the road. They're barely at a standstill when Frank tears the door open, climbing out, and Gerard rushes to follow him. By the time he's got the driver door closed, Mikey's roared up beside them, the engine of his motorcycle grumbling as it idles.

Mikey flips his helmet visor up, whites of his eyes flashing in the twilight. "Car trouble?"

"No, just sightseeing." Gerard answers, his voice light but strangely guilty.

Mikey just 'hmph''s, shooting a sideways glance at Frank, who's got his ass on the hood of the Trans Am, flipping off Ray as he glides by on his Yamaha.

There's a smile in Mikey's eyes that doesn't make it to his mouth as he glances between his brother and Frank. "Right." He revs his bike, engine growling. "Don't take too long. And watch your backs."

"We always do." Gerard responds, the words familiar on his tongue. He barely gets to see the quirk of Mikey's eyebrow before he's flipping his visor down, silver lettering flaring pink and blue from the sky. His back wheel slides across the dirt, kicking up a dustcloud before he tears off down the road.

Gerard walks through the dirty mist to join Frank, his eyes drinking up the sky. He drops his ass beside Frank's on the warm metal of the car hood.