A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Twenty Nine - In The Center Of A Restaurant

Frank goggled at him. "You what?"

Gerard rolled his eyes. "Do I have to repeat myself again?"

Frank blinked. "But....Gerard, seriously. You got us tickets to X Burlesque? A fucking cabaret show?!"

"They were on sale," Gerard muttered, "and they happen to perform, conveniently enough, in our hotel."

"Jesus," Frank said, falling back on the bed with a small thump, closing his eyes and then opening them and grinning at Gerard. "Are you saying you've got a little bit of heterosexuality in you yet?"

Gerard snorted. "Not a chance."

Frank giggled and then closed his eyes again, still grinning. "Boobs," he said happily, and Gerard huffed, putting away his jacket with a little more force than necessary.

xoxoxo

"Gentlemen, welcome to the seXiest show in Vegas - X Burlesque!"

Frank watched eagerly, just like everybody else in the room - everybody, that is, except Gerard.

Gerard had a very bored expression on his face, playing with a loose thread on his tie (they'd gotten suits for the occasion, and Frank had insisted that they get matching red ties) and tapping his fingers against the armrest impatiently. He ordered a drink when the waitress came by - apparently this place was also a sort of restaurant, though nobody seemed too concerned with eating. Frank stared at him for a minute, but his attention was drawn to the wraparound stage when the announcer's voice rang out again.

"We have a variety of things to offer - all erotic and artistic, suiting everybody's tastes!" (Gerard snorted at this; Frank ignored him.) "First, we'd like to introduce to you our girls - the first; Shakeera!"

A girl with curled brown hair and dark eyes stepped onto the stage, swaying her hips from side to side and teasingly running a hand over her front, which was covered in yellow lace. She wore red layers of taffeta as a kind of skirt which didn't really cover much, a red corset and a yellow garter complete with matching lace stockings and red shoes on her long legs.

"Jenny!"

An Asian girl with long, straight brown hair and even darker eyes joined the other, clad in white and blue. The two of them batted their eyelashes and were joined by Kim (shades of pink; blonde hair and green eyes), Meeka (black; black hair and brown eyes), Megan (shades of blue; brown hair and green eyes), Melania (red; red hair and blue eyes), Smithy (gray and gold; blonde hair and blue eyes), and Tara (green and silver; brown hair and blue eyes).

"And now....let the show begin!"

A Metallica song came on, and Frank didn't miss the way Gerard started, actually looking mildly interested....before going back to picking at his tie. Whatever. This was for Frank, wasn't it? Boobs, he told himself firmly, and nodded, looking back at the now dancing girls.

The lead girl - the one named Meeka, Frank thought - came to the very front of the stage and swept a hand over her breasts, which were covered still by black leather, as was the rest of her body. The music played as she teased them further, turning and slowly unzipping the back of her corset, exposing flawless cocoa skin. Frank was enjoying it, but he still couldn't help but compare it to Gerard's skin, so pale in comparison, dotted with small dark freckles here and there. He wanted to tell Gerard that personally, he liked his skin better than the girl's, but Gerard was very engrossed in his tie and Frank was very engrossed in the other skin being revealed, leaving her scantily clad in small amounts of black, lacy fabric. The music's tempo increased and the others followed suit. Frank could practically feel the tension from the other men in the room.

Meeka cocked her hip out to the side and circled the stage in an almost predatory way, the other women following her, eyes glittering and costumes clinging. Frank watched and took in the soft curves - female flesh was something he hadn't seen in what seemed like many years. Compared to males, they seemed almost like a different species, with their rounded chests and slender necks and widened hips, elegant legs. Men were all hard lines, square hips and muscled legs and chests, flat planes, strength, power. And women seemed so very unlike them, these women in particular, as they twirled and tossed their clothes away with a kind of confident carelessness.

Frank was supposed to be getting off from this, presumably, but mostly he was just fascinated. How, he wondered, did these women feel about doing this kind of work? Did they revel in the effect they had on people? Did it fill them with shame? What would they do instead of this, given the chance?

He focused hard on Melania, who was prancing across the floor to the smaller stage in the center of the room, heading towards the pole there with purpose. Frank tilted his head to the side, genuinely excited now - he'd never actually seen pole-dancing before; never had the money to get into the elite clubs where the good ones were, anyway. He kind of wondered about how exactly it worked, how they managed to get up there with those heels, but all thoughts of that disappeared from his mind when she actually slithered right up the shiny pole, curling around it and fucking undulating. Frank may have whimpered or made another equally embarrassing sound, and if he had bothered to look somewhere other than the pole, he would've seen Gerard watching him almost hungrily.

Another woman joined the first and they moved sinuously, like lacy, sequined snakes. Meanwhile on the main stage, Shakeera was shedding her taffeta and making her way towards a bathtub which seemed to have appeared on the stage (or maybe Frank just had not been paying very good attention). It was filled with water, and eventually he just fell into a sort of daze, watching the way it soaked her poor excuse for clothes and darkened her hair.

But his mind was somewhere else, back in the hot tub the previous night, Gerard's hands on his waist, buried deep inside of him as he was slammed back against the slick porcelain, the warm water splashing between them. He remembered the way Gerard's mouth slid against his as though from a dream, hard and insistent after Frank had asked for permission, almost like Gerard had been unable to show any kind of restraint. The familiar fingers stroking his prostate, the soft nips and bites over his neck, the droplets of water falling from Gerard's hair and lips...

Frank was letting out a soft gasp before he even realized it, and it wasn't because of the breasts and female bodies he was finally being able to see. Gerard looked up from his tie next to him, shooting him a curious glance, and Frank leaned forward, cupping the other's face in his hands and kissing him like he was dying of thirst and Gerard was the water which would save him. Nobody around them seemed to notice - everyone was loud, screaming and cheering at the women onstage, leaving no part of their attention on the two men kissing among them, Gerard's hand falling almost hesitantly against Frank's jeans, feeling the tenting fabric and drawing away from his mouth with a soft pop of sound.

"Really?" he hissed, looking annoyed. "Hard over girls and you want me to take care of it?"

Frank stared at him, and in the dark they seemed almost closer than they really were, the flashing strobe lights casting Gerard's face in shadow one moment and high definition the next. His throat felt dry. "Not because of them," Frank admitted, and Gerard sucked in a breath visibly, eyes widening.

"Frank..." Gerard whispered, almost unsure again, but Frank kept a hand on the other's face, almost petting his jaw and cheekbones, curling his fingers against the soft black hair which framed them.

"You're beautiful," Frank told him, and he didn't even know where that came from, but he knew it was true, and he meant it - he meant it more than he ever had before.

"I-"

"I want to try something," Frank said quietly, the dancers onstage changing costumes somewhere out of the corner of his eye. "Can we?"

Gerard swallowed. "What?"

In answer, Frank palmed Gerard through his jeans, and Gerard was unable to disguise the growing bulge in them. His eyes narrowed at Frank, catching his wrist and looking at him for a long while. Finally he said softly, "Here? Right in the middle of a fucking burlesque show?"

Frank smirked at him, white and bright. "Yes. Please. I want...I don't know, but...I just. God. I want you."

Gerard's hand slid down his shoulder and arm in a fluid, smooth motion, his expression serene now, eyes dark. It made Frank's blood run a little bit hotter at the possessiveness in his gaze. "Can't wait anymore, Frankie?"

Frank shook his head, nosing at Gerard's jaw a bit, nudging him. "No."

"I did keep you waiting quite a while, didn't I," Gerard mused, his palm settling on Frank's belly, which was sweaty under his suit. "Hmm. And you were so good...and you really do want this?"

Frank made a low whine in his throat, hidden by the pounding music and the screaming men. "Please."

"Consider this your reward," Gerard murmured, and then he leaned forward but didn't kiss him, breath feathering across his lips and making Frank break out in a sweat once more. Gerard's hands were tracing down Frank's belly, undoing his fly, pushing into his pants and taking hold of his swollen cock. Frank bit his lip, Gerard's face so close, looking at him intensely, tongue tracing his mouth and making it shine.

Gerard wasn't stupid, he didn't dare to take Frank's cock out, but the friction between Gerard's hand and the rough fabric made Frank moan nonetheless, leaking already. Onstage, the dancers were flipping themselves into the air and performing a series of insane acrobatics, but for all Frank cared, they didn't exist. There was only Gerard and himself, braced against each other, Gerard's hand working him steadily, twisting his hand and jerking him off faster.

Once, Frank thought a man saw them, knew what they were doing, and for some reason it made his cock twitch powerfully, encouraging Gerard, who took his hand away, licked it from fingertip to wrist, and wrapped it back around the hot skin. Frank moaned quietly, then louder when a guitar riff came on in the music. Gerard slid his thumb stiffly over the head, and Frank cursed and came, messy and sticky in his own pants. The sound of clicking high heels covered the noises he made.

Gerard was still hard against Frank's thigh, insistent and yet perfectly calm. Frank knew what he wanted to do, and he didn't want to do it here - it was clear that although Frank was loving the publicity, Gerard was jumpy and uncomfortable here, and Frank didn't want to run the actual risk of getting caught and kicked out.

"The room," Frank whispered, touching Gerard's wet lips with a finger; drawing back hastily. "Please. Let me?"

Gerard caught his drift and nodded, tangling their hands together, sweaty and messy as they were. They left in a hurry, and by the time they made it to their floor, they looked like teenagers unable to keep their hands off of each other. Frank wasn't known for his patience, and he just really, really, really wanted to touch Gerard's dick (Gerard had said he could touch it whenever he wanted).

Gerard did manage to fend him off long enough to get the room key into the slot, and then they were tumbling into the room, Gerard being the first to fall back onto the bed, Frank perched on his hips.

Gerard propped himself up with his elbows, looking at Frank on top of him quizzically as if to ask, Now, what do you think you're doing there? Frank blinked innocently back at him and stuck his hand into the waistband of Gerard's pants, forcing them down until Gerard could kick out of them. He should've looked ridiculous with no clothes on from the waist down and his suit jacket and tie still on (if a little rumpled), but really what he looked was fucking hot.

Frank wanted a taste.

He motioned for Gerard to take off his jacket, not caring about his shirt - the white fabric was sweaty enough that he could see the skin underneath, snowy and lean, but soft in places where Frank could touch, dig his fingers in and tug a little.

"Frank," Gerard said in a low, dangerous voice, "if you're not going to do something soon, I will."

Frank chuckled and took his dick in hand, squeezing, and Gerard let out an uneven breath. "Want to suck you off," Frank said, making it quite clear as to what he was going to do. "You gonna let me?"

It took Gerard a few seconds to respond before he finally croaked out, "Yeah," and Frank eagerly swallowed him down, choking a little before finding a comfortable position, steadying himself with his hands on Gerard's thighs. It was sort of awkward, all splayed out on the bed with his ass kind of in the air, but it seemed good for Gerard from the noises he was making, so Frank didn't pull off, just licked his tongue around and hummed contentedly. Gerard's cock stretched his lips almost to the point of pain, and he had to work to keep his teeth back behind his lips because when Gerard was hard, he was fucking big. As awesome as that was, it was also kind of a problem when Frank was trying to deepthroat him, but Frank wasn't known for having oral prowess for nothing. He'd never gotten any complaints in the past and he wasn't about to start now.

"Fuck," Gerard spat, hands like iron bands on his shoulders. His hips jerked up, and Frank loosened his throat, welcoming his thrusts. Gerard did it again, moaning in between loud pants, his whole body so tense. Frank rubbed at his thighs and sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks. Gerard wasn't being such a bastard these days, he thought, and for some reason it was a surprising revelation. People did change, he decided, making his way back up to the tip and concentrating just on the head of Gerard's cock, waiting for that salty taste to fill his mouth.

He was rewarded a few thrusts later, Gerard's mouth opening and eyes widening as he gasped and came. People looked vulnerable then, Frank thought, just as they did in sleep. Gerard looked vulnerable like everyone else, but somehow that made him look even more beautiful. Frank swallowed obediently, cleaning Gerard off with his tongue and kissing up the side, nuzzling his face against the soft rise and fall of Gerard's belly.

Gerard laughed lowly below him and shoved him playfully away. "Get out of your clothes," he said, and it wasn't really a suggestion, but the way he said it was affectionate. "You've ruined your pants."

"That," Frank pointed out, wriggling out of his suit, "was your fault. Technically."

Gerard growled in mock annoyance, unbuttoning his translucent shirt and undoing the tie, too, tossing them away before sliding under the covers. Frank joined him, inhaling the smell of clean sheets, sex, and Gerard, all familiar and satisfying.

"So," Gerard said after a long time just lying there, neither really very sleepy, "I don't suppose that show had a tremendous affect on you? Did I just waste my money?"

"You didn't waste your money," Frank told him seriously, pressing closer, kissing his chest even as Gerard wrinkled his nose. "I liked it. And it made me think about you. And what I want from you."

"Which is what?"

"Well," Frank said coyly, "I suppose we'll just have to figure that out."

"If figuring things out is like this," Gerard replied, lying back and closing his eyes, "then I am all for it."