A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Twenty Six - You Better Run Like The Devil

Gerard knew he'd just made a serious mistake in telling Frank.

He was making a lot of mistakes lately, and it was all Frank's fault. Gerard couldn't help it - that kid was distracting.

But it was fine, he kept telling himself, it was just him and Frank in that barn. Nobody else had heard what transpired save for a lonely corpse. And Frank would shut up about it - Gerard somehow knew he would, or at least thought he knew.

And concerning Frank...Gerard wasn't scared of what the other had told him, more curious and a little nervous (despite himself), because the hands which had castrated eight other men had quite frequently been very near to his own manhood. And he actually liked it and didn't particularly want the little punk to cut it off, because that would be very rude and probably extremely painful and he just needed to stop thinking about it.

Plus, that clued him into the fact that the sole survivor, Billie Joe, was missing something and that was probably why he had been so keen to kill Frank and carry out his revenge or what have you. Maybe Gerard should have let the convict stab Frank with that crowbar after all.

But then he looked over at the hotel bed, where Frank was curled up in a nest of blankets, head tucked close against the pillow, mocha skin and chocolate hair and ivory scars and plethora of tattoos, and Gerard knew he was wrong.

He stared at Frank for a while, before realizing that it was not only creepy; watching Frank sleep when he wasn't having a nightmare was extremely boring. And okay, maybe that was a little morbid. But Gerard was a morbid guy, and Frank apparently was, too. He'd understand, Gerard thought almost affectionately. And then, no.

Gerard was just considering joining Frank in bed and maybe even having some sleepy sex (because no matter what anybody else said, that was fucking awesome), when his phone took him by surprise and rang.

His eyes flew wide and he fished it out of the suitcase like it was a burning coal, glancing over at the bed where Frank was starting to stir, turning over and making faint sounds. Gerard frowned and quickly pressed the TALK button, even though he didn't recognize the number. Another mistake, but...he didn't want to wake Frank. Those dark bags under his eyes didn't look good at all.

He hurried into the bathroom so at least there'd be a wall in between his phone conversation and Frank, and held it to his ear. Gerard said in a hushed voice, "Hello?"

"Gerard. It's been a while."

Gerard stiffened. Fuck. Oh, fuck. How...? "Leto," he said out of gritted teeth.

"Jared; Gerard, really. I think we've long since passed the formal stage."

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you."

"It's past midnight."

"I'm well aware. It's a very pressing matter, I'm afraid." Jared gave a long-suffering sigh and a silence hung between them. "Well?" Jared asked again, but this time his tone was sharper and Gerard cringed.

"Where are you?"

Jared practically fucking purred. "There's a good boy. I'm at the Studio." Gerard gritted his teeth. Control yourself, he urged. Control.

"Fine."

"I'm very excited to see you." Jared's wolfish smile was somehow reflected in the words, and Gerard shivered as the phone went silent.

xoxoxo

Gerard hated the Studio.

It was an old ballet studio or something, with what seemed like hundreds of mirrors, all reflecting back at each other and making endless tunnels. The inside of the building was too bright, too white, and it always smelled like a mix of disinfectant and formaldehyde.

Oh, and Jared Leto was there, so he hated it even more.

The man was tall, lean, and tanned, with bright blue eyes and brown hair which was spiked up with gel in a way which made him almost look as big of a douche as he actually was. Equally brown stubble lined his jaw and chin, and Gerard thought it looked ugly, although honestly, it mostly just looked good. Which made him even angrier because he couldn't grow any facial hair at all, period.

Jared grinned at him as soon as he entered the Studio, shoulders thrown back and head held high. He was going to be professional about this, he decided, and that was that, end of story.

"Gerard," he crooned, extending a hand in greeting. More than anything, Gerard wanted to spit on it, or maybe stick it in a vat of corrosive acid, but he settled with gritting his teeth, setting his jaw, and shaking the thin hand, drawing back quickly.

"I'm pleased that the evacuation from the prison went smoothly," Jared said, crossing the room to where a small table was, and two wrought iron chairs. They looked extremely out of place. Gerard followed him and when the other gestured for him to take a seat, he did, gingerly.

"Yes," Gerard said vaguely. "It did."

"So smoothly, in fact, that you were able to bring along a little friend." Jared's eyes sparked. Gerard was a roiling sea of anger inside, but he kept his face a calm mask. "One Frank Iero, is that right?"

"He followed us out. It was too late to return him without suspicion."

Jared pursed his lips. "I'm sure. However, you do understand the utmost secrecy concerning this organization, do you not?"

"I do. I have not told him anything, do you take me for a fool?"

"And yet he accompanied you in your recovery of your brother, no?"

"That was a personal matter. I told Stump that."

"But Gerard," Jared said, rising to his feet in a sleek movement, "don't you understand? Come on now, you're a smart boy - dear Frank is involved now, and we can't have that."

Gerard's eyes were flat. "He knows nothing." So maybe he lied, but what else would he be expected to do around this bastard?

"And so you also took him with you to San Francisco, and he stills knows nothing?"

Gerard paused. "Excuse me?"

"You took him to San Francisco with you. You thought you weren't followed? Please. Gerard, I thought you knew better than that."

Gerard's mouth felt dry. "Seeing me make a kill still told him nothing."

Jared's expression was no longer simpering and mock-sympathetic. His eyes were steely and his voice cold as ice. "He knows, Gerard. Don't lie to me. And you know what we have to do about it."

"What I have to do about it," Gerard corrected dully.

"Yes." Jared smiled, real this time, and it made him shiver. "You know I like you, Gerard. You're very good at what you do, and I trust that it will be no different this time. Am I right?"

"You're always right," Gerard said, and the words felt bitter on his tongue.

"Excellent!" Jared exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You have three days." Gerard contained his shock. Fuck. "Be clean about it. I know you're very creative, Gerard, but it might be best if this one was kept nice and easy, no evidence behind. Do you understand?"

"Crystal clear." Gerard stood, too, sensing that this meeting was over.

"Excellent," Jared repeated, and he touched Gerard on the arm, making him flinch inwardly. "If you please, bring him here when you're done...I've heard so much about him, it would be lovely to finally meet him...even if he is, well...not quitethere."

xoxoxo

Gerard unlocked the hotel room door and slipped inside. It was still dark, and Frank was still sound asleep. He approached the bed, sitting on the edge, tilting his head down at him, staring at the pale flesh of his neck exposed between his hair and the sheet. It would be so simple to break the fragile bones, he thought, hear the snap and then, nothing. Frank probably wouldn't feel anything - it would be a good way to go.

Frank snuffled and sighed then, and his arms stretched out, hands feeling the bulk of Gerard and settling there, their owner curling closer as well. Gerard reached down and absently ruffled his hair, still wondering about the best way to go about this.

"G'rad?" Frank mumbled, his eyes opening sleepily. "Wassup?"

"Any dreams?" Gerard asked him, because that was really the only thing he could think of to say. Oh, nothing, I've just been considering how exactly I ought to kill you didn't exactly sound as good.

Frank smiled. "No." He blinked, still foggy-looking.

"Okay," Gerard said lamely, and then he climbed up on the bed next to Frank. Frank was warm. If he was dead, he wouldn't be warm anymore. He wouldn't be as pretty, either, Gerard thought, and he wouldn't be able to kiss him like this, so soft and long. Gerard didn't want Frank to not be able to do that. He didn't want Frank to die, not really.

It was an odd realization to him for some reason.

Frank, blissfully unaware of his thoughts, was still kissing him, moving slowly from the tiredness still in his body, but he was creeping closer anyway, seeking something like comfort, something which Gerard couldn't give him. This was wrong, so wrong, but he'd never had a good sense of self-control, so it wasn't hard for him to climb atop the other, going not for his mouth, but the neck he'd almost broken. It tasted like salt and cotton and something sweet, and Frank made a surprised noise, his hands moving to tangle in Gerard's hair as he recovered and warmed up to it.

Gerard knew what he wanted now, to taste, to feel the proof that Frank was still alive and warm and breathing right there on his tongue. Frank was still disoriented and sleepy, and that was just how Gerard wanted him.

"Gerard," Frank murmured again, a little clearer now, as the other mapped out his body with his mouth. Maybe, Gerard thought, he wanted to talk about what they'd argued about earlier. But Gerard didn't want to talk, not now, not ever. He just wanted this, and when he bit down on one of Frank's scars, running his tongue over the raised line, he knew Frank did too from his answering cry.

He trailed down, licking at the images on the skin and making them shine, rediscovering the injuries he'd caused, and several others which he hadn't noticed before - faded yellow bruises around his hips, a few tiny white marks where something, someone, must have hurt him before. How many people had Frank slept with, he wondered. How many people had he slept with against his will?

Maybe another time he would have asked, but still, he didn't want to talk. He was close now, breathing over Frank's tenting boxers, taking them off without further preamble, and hearing Frank's groan when he sucked the head into his mouth lightly, nuzzling at the shaft and touching his balls, and then, the skin behind them.

Frank let out a soft gasp when Gerard picked up his legs, hooking them over his shoulders and leaning down, holding his slim hips up with broad hands. Frank's eyes were wide and his mouth open somewhere in the blurry distance, but Gerard would not be distracted from the task he'd picked for himself.

He spread Frank's ass, which was pale once more - not red, but there would be time for that later. Yes. There would be a later for Frank, Gerard was sure of it. He wouldn't let Frank's time be cut to only now. But even still, now would be a good moment, and Gerard put the tip of his tongue inside the other, licking not too deeply, but all around, and Frank moaned deeply, twitching forwards against him and making broken sounds.

"Ah!" was all Gerard could really make out, interspersed with "fuck" and "god" and "Jesus Christ." Figuring that was the most encouragement he could hope for, he shrugged and dove back in, getting everything wet and messy. Frank was whining and shifting above him though, and as much as Gerard liked it like this, it wasn't going to work very well. He backed off and ignored Frank's pleading for him to continue, grabbing his waist again and this time flipping him over, spreading him again, and this time he was able to push his tongue in better, enough that Frank was shaking and panting against him. His jaw felt a little sore and his lips would probably be numb after this, but he could taste Frank, and it was dirtiest, filthiest, sexiest thing in the world and Gerard would never stop loving this.

"Gee," Frank begged, twisting against the sheets, pulsing against Gerard's mouth, "please, oh, please..."

Gerard knew what he wanted, and he slurped, inhaling Frank's heady musk once more before flipping him back over again, wrapping a hand around his throbbing cock. Frank moaned and thrust up, his eyelids fluttering and lips quivering as he came with barely a touch, shoulders trembling and making him look much more fragile than he really was.

Gerard kissed him, and made sure that Frank tasted himself, tasted Gerard's hard and satisfying work. It only took a few slides against Frank's sweaty belly before he was coming, too, humming his pleasure into Frank's mouth and the taste of sex between them.

He took a while to regain his bearings, draped on top of Frank with a sticky mess between them. Gerard had thought this would end with them both going to sleep, but Frank spoke before that could happen.

"Nobody's ever done that to me before," he said in a quiet, almost embarrassed voice.

"It's kind of gross," Gerard agreed easily enough.

Frank was silent. "Oh," he said. "Sorry. I guess."

Gerard opened his eyes lazily. "I meant in general."

"Oh."

"That was nice," Gerard mumbled, moving so that his weight wasn't crushing Frank quite so much. "Sort of gross, but. That's kind of a given."

Frank made a little sound which Gerard didn't know how to interpret, and then he said, "Thanks. I thought it was nice, too."

"I sort of figured," Gerard pointed out, and he kissed away the blush on Frank's face.

It was probably the stupidest decision of his life, but he wasn't going to let them find Frank, or him, not now, not ever.