ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

24: I'm Vastly Aware of the Situation, Thanks

Frank awoke the next morning in unfamiliar sheets, his legs wrapped up and his face buried in a feather pillow that wasn't his, the linen smelling of a subtle citrus spray that was both refreshing and homely. He pressed his face deeper into the cushion before opening a bleary eye and looking around. He was greeted by beige walls and a four-poster bed in light wood, the white sheets embroidered with small little flowers and swirls.

He frowned, not quite yet realizing where he was until his ass gave a dull throb, making him jerk; the night before came screaming back to him and his face flooded with color. He rolled over, looking over to see the other side of the bed in disarray, the pillow with an obvious head indent. Gerard. Frank smiled proudly to himself at the realization that he had bedded his boss, remembering how they had been entwined in this very bed, these very sheets, his very self.

But the boss in question was not where Frank had wanted, not in the bed with him, and judging by the temperature of the sheets themselves, he had been gone for a while. And that's when the panic set in, the realization that not only did he have sex with his boss, he had sex with his married boss, in their house, with his wife somewhere nearby. Frank felt the well of guilt suddenly break in his stomach and he felt sick, he felt nauseated as the back of his skull began to prickle and tingle like it did when he was in trouble as a child.

Frank then thought it best that now was the time to leave, that he should get the hell out of Dodge before Lindsey saw him. Hell, he didn't even know what time it was. Frank sat up, stretching and yawning involuntarily as he searched and scanned the floor for his clothes, coming up empty. The only thing he had found was the pajama shorts Gerard had brought him the night before; a simple pair of navy blue cotton boxers that Frank reckoned belonged to Gerard. Even better- this small thought was both sarcasm and not.

Frank slipped out of the bed and grabbed the shorts, tugging them on and up with a snap of elastic on his waist. He cautiously snuck out of the room and walked down the hall- to find Gerard and his elusive clothing- taking everything in around him from the feel of the off-white carpet under his feet to the beige walls with the photos of Gerard and Lindsey that adorned the walls, the two of them at different ages and stages in their life. It was intriguing to see Gerard when he was younger; a brilliantly shocking white-platinum crop of hair, the same confident and charming smile on his face. The change in hair color in the next photo grew to a tousle of black hair with Gerard looking a hell of a lot younger than the other two, possibly in high school. Frank chuckled then, smiling at the photo before he descended the wooden stairs into the main part of the house. The open plan living room and kitchen that sprawled out larger than he remembered; everything in whites and beiges with splashes of color here and there.

Frank walked into the kitchen where he found Gerard perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, and undoubtedly a coffee, as he read through the paper in his hands. Frank looked at Gerard's hands and swallowed, also taking in just how gorgeous he looked with morning sex-hair and an oversized white Bowie t-shirt.

"Good morning, Frank." Gerard broke the silence first as he turned a page in the newspaper, taking a sip of coffee, "I trust you slept well."

"Yeah, thanks..." Frank replied awkwardly, "A little worse for wear, not gonna lie."

"Undeniably." Gerard commented, "How are you feeling overall?"

"I'm..." Frank trailed off, thinking of how he wanted to answer, "I'm okay for now, I guess."

"That's good. I'm glad." Gerard nodded, still reading before he glanced up, "And that face?"

Frank realized he had been grimacing, the pain in his ass was now starting to wake up as he did, and it was becoming more noticeable to the rest of him- especially considering he had never bottomed before. He tried to hide the chagrin from the dulled ache, "I- Well, I'm kinda sore."