A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Thirteen - Give Them All That They Can Drink/It Will Never Be Enough

Frank knew that Gerard was pretty neurotic, but it still took him by surprise when, the following morning, he woke up with Gerard hovering over him, eyes bright. The first words out of his mouth were,

"You're getting a haircut today."

Frank furrowed his brow. "I'm good, thanks."

Gerard's hand caught his jaw and Frank swallowed. "It's not up for discussion."

"Why?"

"We should be...careful. Different hair means different face to a lot of people."

"So you're getting your hair cut, too?" Frank unconsciously reached up and tugged lightly on Gerard's hair. Gerard closed his eyes and smiled slightly.

"I was considering it, but now I don't think so."

"Why?" Frank asked again, eyes glittering as he yanked harder. Gerard's mouth opened the smallest bit, eyes still screwed shut. "Do you like that? D'you like hair-pulling?"

Gerard's eyes flashed open instantly, narrow and dark. "Careful," he breathed, but Frank moved sharply, dragging Gerard's hair to the side and making him moan before glaring at Frank.

"Fuck yeah, you do," Frank giggled, but it was cut short when Gerard kissed him, or, well, bit him, more like. Frank tightened his fingers in Gerard's hair, liking the reaction his action was producing. Gerard forced his mouth open, teeth catching on the softness of his lower lip and making Frank gasp in reflex.

"You're one to talk," Gerard hissed, twisting himself down on Frank, and fuck, was he hard just from the hair pulling? "You little whore."

Frank growled in disagreement. "I am not a fucking whore," he spat, eyes watering when Gerard, not too gently, grabbed a fistful of his hair. Frank was still halfway under the sheets, though at the rate Gerard was kicking and squirming on top of him, they probably wouldn't be soon enough.

"Yeah," Gerard chuckled, sending shivers down Frank's spine when he licked a broad, wet stripe up Frank's exposed throat, "you're a whore. You're my puttana piccolo."

"Fuck," Frank whined, tossing his head back. He couldn't really argue that, especially when it was in Italian. Then something clicked. "Holy shit," he gasped, staring at Gerard with wide eyes, "are you in the fucking mafia?" Gerard blinked and tilted his head at him, and then he started to laugh. Not like, creepy laughter, either, but genuine, amused laughter. Frank huffed, put out. "Well? Are you?"

"The mafia," Gerard giggled hysterically, rocking a little and pausing to catch his breath, "that's the best you've got?"

"Yes?"

"No, I'm not in the...oh my god, the mafia. No. I'm not in the mafia, Frank," he said, a smile twitching at his lips. "I just like saying certain...phrases in Italian."

Frank swallowed, mouth dry and skin hot all over again. Gerard had stopped laughing, and his eyes were hot and smoky, hair sticking up everywhere, looking for all the world like a cat about to pounce, which totally should not have turned Frank on as much as it did.

"I'm going to suck you off, puttana piccolo." Gerard licked his lips, and Frank got chills all over.

"Uhm. Okay?" How was one really supposed to respond to this situation?

Gerard grinned. "Good. Although I wasn't asking for consent, but that works, too." Frank stared at him, at the unconcerned and almost casual way he slipped down Frank's boxers and tossed them aside carelessly, running his hands up Frank's thighs and exhaling hot air over the head of his cock, taking the shaft in hand and laying his arm across Frank's hips when he tried to buck up. "None of that," Gerard warned, and Frank just whined helplessly, waiting. Gerard seemed satisfied with that reaction, and Frank's eyes opened in shock when, for the second time in his life, he felt Gerard's mouth on his cock.