It was gentle and sweet. Gerard held his breath. He'd wanted Frank to kiss him all evening, all afternoon, all week; he was still remembering the taste of the kisses in the equipment room before things had turned shitty, and he wanted it, but he was also suddenly feeling self-conscious. They'd already had sex, but this was different. That sex hadn't been planned; this sex was planned, or it felt planned. He took a shaky breath.
"Okay?" Frank breathed. He sounded concerned, but he was also kind of pushing Gerard down against the pillows. "Are you too sore or can you do stuff?"
"I'm not too sore," Gerard said with a bit too much haste.
Frank grinned. "No? Not too sore to put your dick in my mouth? Are you sure?" He pressed Gerard's hands to the mattress.
"No, no," Gerard said, blushing. "I mean - I'll blow you too."
"Yeah." Frank laughed. "Me first though." He kissed Gerard again, dirtier and less careful this time.
It was barely 7 pm and Frank was about to go down on him. Gerard didn't know what to do. He'd thought a lot about it, but mostly about all the problems, like what if Frank didn't like it, or what if he didn't like it, or what if he tried to put on a condom and wasn't able to. He knew he had to keep quiet, and he had to lift his hips a little so that Frank could get his underwear down.
There was music coming from Mikey's room and voices from the television drifting up from downstairs, and as he gripped the pillow next to his head he was aware that the door was unlocked and that everyone was home. He knew he was breathing too harshly in the quiet room, and he closed his eyes and held his breath and realized that he didn't even know if Frank was hard yet, which seemed really important, as Frank rearranged their limbs so he could lean forward comfortably and slide Gerard's dick into his mouth.
At first, Gerard felt nothing. He was so tense, he could hardly breathe, and he wasn't really concentrating on what was going on, all he could think about was what would happen if Frank suddenly said, "actually I don't really like this, sorry" or if someone walked in on them, but then Frank rubbed a hand over his stomach and thighs and Gerard tried to relax, exhaled, and suddenly he felt it, how Frank's mouth was sliding wetly up and down his dick. He breathed out with a groan. It was sort of incredible. There was suddenly nothing but his dick and Frank's hot mouth and the sparks shooting up his spine.
He made a sound of protest when Frank's mouth slipped off him.
"What about, like, a sixty-nine," Frank mumbled and Gerard noticed that he was rubbing his hand over his own erection, and he looked a little desperate.
"Okay. Uh," Gerard said, but then neither of them moved.
"You should," Frank said, gesturing, "Like, if you turn around and sit up here – "
Gerard wasn't sure if he could really bring himself to kneel over Frank and push his dick into his face, so instead he sat up and pushed Frank onto his back. "No, this is fine," he said. Clumsily, he pulled Frank's pants down and it wasn't exactly a surprise that Frank was hard, but he was still relieved.
Frank groaned when the elastic caught and snapped. "You - You sure you want to - " Frank gave him a hazy look. His dick was lying against his stomach and Gerard didn't have any qualms exactly; he knew he wanted to, had wanted to since he was 15, and lately specifically to Frank. He closed his eyes and slid his tongue over the head of Frank's dick, and Frank arched and swore.
All in all it went pretty well, Gerard thought. He knew he wasn't fantastic or anything, but he got braver when Frank's hand slid into his hair. He swirled his tongue and used his hand at the same time, and Frank raised a leg then lowered it again.
He thought maybe he should ask, and not just assume. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah, fuck," Frank said. He glanced down at Gerard through heavy-lidded eyes, then he touched Gerard's cheek gently, "Hey, you wanna come up here for a minute."
Gerard frowned. "Why?"
"To cuddle."
"But I was just going to – " Gerard gestured slightly.
"I was going to go first though."
"I thought that's what - "
"Just come here," Frank said and pulled him up.
Gerard was painfully turned on, but he crawled up Frank's body so they were face to face again. They kissed, and Gerard's mouth felt a little used and really good. Frank pushed his pants and underwear down further, but they both still had their shirts on, which was good, as Gerard didn't want to get more naked right then, and the way Frank's dick rubbed against his and the waistband of his pants were rough against Gerard's thigh felt really sexy. Then they were clasping each other tighter, rubbing a bit more frenetically, the bed creaked, and Gerard thought, shit, but didn't stop.
Frank bit Gerard's shoulder when he came. Gerard felt hot, wet spurts between them and thought it was a little anti-climactic, because he hadn't actually done anything to get Frank off, he'd just laid there. But he needed to come really badly, so he started thrusting against Frank's thigh and Frank said, "Hey, I'll - " and wriggled free to scoot down so he could take Gerard's dick in his hand and lean over him, and Gerard came before Frank got his mouth on him.
"Shit," he heard Frank mumble. "Okay."
When he looked down, Frank had cum on his cheek and over his chin, and he looked so much like what the lacrosse team had said would get them both killed that Gerard burst out in a quick, stuttered laugh that caught in his throat and choked him a little.
"You came on my face," Frank said, sounding a little indignant.
"Sorry," Gerard said, "I didn't know you were going to do that."
Frank flopped down on the bed and made a big scene of wiping his face clean on the sheets. Then he curled up next to Gerard, rubbing somewhat stickily against him, and pulled a blanket over them. "Mmm, I'm not going to move for a while," Frank said.
"We're all gross," Gerard mumbled.
"Whatever," Frank said. "I'm too fucked to shower."
They giggled. The room was warm and dark and they were sharing a blanket, and Gerard didn't want to move either.
--
"Jesus Christ," Pete said, looking at the wall. "He's - he's having sex with someone in there."
Mikey was sitting at the other end of the bed. He had his gaze firmly in the book. "No," he said, but he had a pillow around his head, the corners stuffed into his ears.
Pete grinned. "Who is he with?" he asked, curiously.
"No one," Mikey mumbled.
"It's Iero, isn't it?" It had suddenly dawned on him. Of course it was Frank Iero. "Holy shit." Mikey didn't say anything and Pete nudged him lightly with is foot. "So I guess it's true what they say, that the croquet team get together and have orgies on the field."
Mikey gave him a look.
"I never believed it," Pete said with a grin. He rubbed his foot against Mikey's leg, and Mikey blushed.
The noises from the other room had quieted down and he was curious about what had been going on; it had been the kind of steady beat of the headboard that could mean jerking off together, no touching, but could also mean hardcore, slippery, legs-spread-wide fucking. He wasn't completely comfortable thinking about Gerard and Frank Iero doing that, but listening to people having sex through the wall was always perverted fun. And, whatever, it wasn't like it was his brother.
"So they're gay?" he asked.
Mikey didn't answer. He had a kind of quiet, stubborn gallantry when it came to Gerard, which Pete thought was sweet.
"You can kind of tell with your brother," he continued anyway, "And a bit with Frank, at least when they're together."
Mikey got up and went to the bathroom.
When he came back, Pete said, "Do you think people can tell with us?"
Mikey sat down on the bed again and looked at Pete, his eyes went a little wide. "Um, what?"
"You know." Pete was still a little turned on from the rhythmic creaking that had been going on and the images it conjured, but he kept his hands to himself, and decided not to push it. He lay down on the bed and stretched out, putting his hands under his head. "Have you ever had sex with a girl?" he asked instead.
Mikey went a little red. "No," he said.
"Well, I have – wait," Pete took a quick breath, "And you haven't done it with a guy either, right?" He realized he had only assumed that this was Mikey's first time fooling around with a guy. There was a surprising, sharp pang of jealousy in his chest at the thought that there was some other guy Mikey liked or had liked. Mikey was just fifteen, but who knew; one of the guys on the message board Pete frequented was only fourteen and he was writing about handjobs and what to do and not to do.
"No," Mikey said. "No. You?"
"I've done it with a girl." Pete lifted his head to look at him. He hoped that Mikey felt hurt and jealous, the way Pete would have. It wasn't insecurity; he knew that Mikey liked him, he could tell, because he was finely tuned to reading other people's feelings about him, but he wanted to know more, he wanted to know how he made Mikey feel. When Mikey didn't say anything, he continued, "It was just once. I didn't do it just so people would think I'm straight, I really thought I'd like it. I mean, I did, in a way, but not like – "
Not like with you, he almost said, but then he bit his lip. They hadn't actually done anything yet, they were just testing it out, but it was still far better than going all the way with Annie. He was glad he had done it, though; it was another experience, a notch on his bedpost. He had been early, almost the first one of his friends, but people were starting to do it now, as if he'd set off a chain reaction. She was dating a Senior now - or so Pete had heard. They didn't really give a shit about each other.
Mikey looked down at his hands. There was a silence between them and it was getting a bit dangerous lying on the bed with Mikey not doing anything, even though he liked stretching out a moment like this. Pete liked not knowing what would happen or if he even really wanted it to happen. He wasn't sure if he was gay or if Mikey was gay or if this was anything or whether he would survive with his heart intact, but the blackness broke slightly and everything shone when he was inside these moments.
He nudged Mikey with his foot. "We could get out of here, if you want."
Mikey frowned. "Where do you want to go?"
"Let's do something fun." Pete reached for the magazine that he'd grabbed from Mikey's floor, because earlier something in it had caught his eye. It was a local music zine and it had some listings of shows in the area. "There's a gig here with good bands. Look. It's, like, an hour's drive. We can get there in time." He showed Mikey the page.
"Hmm," Mikey said. "I'll be grounded again."
"If they catch us." Pete thought that Mikey's parents must be deaf, because no one had come running at the sound of one of their sons clearly getting lucky, even though the fucking banging had made the windows rattle.
He wasn't sure if his parents knew that he wasn't in his rom. He'd snuck out at soon as he heard the first of the guests arrive and he had specifically chosen that day because his dad had parked his car further down on the street so their friends could park in the driveway. He hadn't planned on staying out too long, but now suddenly all he wanted to do was go to the next county over and watch these bands. He looked at Mikey. Mikey had seemed happy when Pete had told him he could come and spend the evening with him in his room.
"We'll be back before they notice," he said. "It'll be fun." He calculated that they'd be back before 1 am. If he dropped Mikey off, he could probably still be in his room before the guests left.
Mikey took the magazine and studied the ad Pete had showed him. "I'm not sure we'd get in."
"We'll just have to look the part."
Mikey hesitated for maybe a few seconds. "How are we going to get there?"
"My car. I'll drop you off when we come back." Pete got up and went over to Mikey's dresser, peering at himself in the mirror. He totally looked older than sixteen.
Behind him he could see Mikey get up too and pull his t-shirt over his head, and as Pete watched, Mikey grabbed a black t-shirt, put it on, then pulled a hand through his messy hair and caught Pete staring.
Pete didn't need to change. He'd dressed up to go see Mikey; he'd put on a tight t-shirt and dark jeans and he'd washed his hair, used products. Man, he thought wryly, I have it bad.
He smiled at Mikey in the mirror. "Do you have any eyeliner?" he asked.
Mikey blinked. "No," he said. Then, "Yeah, wait."
He left and came back with a black eyeliner pen, muttering "Mom's," when Pete raised an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to do you?" Pete asked when he had taken the pen.
Mikey shrugged. "Okay," he said and Pete pulled him closer and put a hand on his face, and Mikey closed his eyes. He drew thick lines across the top of Mikey's eyelids and smudged them with his fingers then said, "Here, open your eyes and look up," as he started drawing across the lower lashes as well. When he took a step back and Mikey blinked a little, Pete thought he was fucking pretty. His eyes were suddenly huge and deep and sexy. "Cool," Mikey said.
"We have to hurry," Pete mumbled, "It starts at 10."
They got their stuff and Mikey rubbed his eyes, smiling a little nervously at Pete. Pete did his own eye makeup in the car.
--
His car felt like a refuge, warm and dark inside. Mikey was sitting in the passenger seat in his black t-shirt and painted eyes, watching the cars passing and drumming his fingers to the low beat of the radio. Not like the last time he'd been in Pete's car, this was so much better; it felt like they were between time and place and no one could get them there. Pete felt elated and a little bit in love, with the highway and himself as much as with Mikey.
"This is a good song," Mikey said.
Pete nodded. "Yeah." He pulled a hand through his hair and threw a quick look in the rear view mirror.
It took about an hour to drive there. Then they waited in line outside the venue for maybe half an hour, standing huddled together, sharing a cigarette even though Pete didn't really smoke. He could tell they were both equally nervous. They were clearly outsiders, and he was just glad he wasn't there alone.
They were both surprised when they were let inside, but Pete quickly noticed some other kids in there who couldn't be much older than them and he relaxed some. The club was small and the walls wallpapered with posters for bands and gigs and the music was loud and aggressive. The place was boiling and he took off his hoodie almost immediately. Then they stood against the wall and Mikey's naked arm was pressed against his as they watched the crowd as much as the band.
"You wanna get in there?" Pete asked, nodding at the moving mass of bodies in front of the stage.
Mikey shook his head. "Not really. You?"
Pete thought about it. "Not right now."
He scanned the room. He wished he could have a drink, because he was a little nervous still, but he was thrilled at the same time, because this was pretty cool. He liked the atmosphere and the way he just melted into the wall once he got over the initial feeling of unease. No one was looking at them. People had their shirts off, making out, shoving each other, there were piercings and tattoos, and Pete wanted to take his shirt off too to show off his tattoo and his body. He glanced over at Mikey.
Mikey's face was flushed from the heat in the place and just as Pete looked over he pushed his glasses up on his nose. His hair was lying plastered to his face like always, but for the first time Pete thought, wow, I really love his look. He'd never seen Mikey in eyeliner before. He wondered if it was the first time Mikey ever wore any. It probably was; Pete would bet good money the make-up was Gerard's.
He nudged Mikey's side. "Thanks for coming with me," he said.
Mikey shook his head, "What?"
Pete leaned close, grabbed Mikey's neck and pressed his mouth to his ear, "Thanks," he repeated, louder.
Mikey smiled as he pulled back. "No problem," he mouthed back.
They stayed for two hours. Pete got them cokes from the bar and they stuck together the whole time. When they walked out into the cool night air, Pete's hair was plastered to his forehead and he was sticky and sweaty, as if he had played a match. It was the same kind of tired happy feeling too.
The car clock said 11.55 pm when Pete pulled out of the parking lot and Mikey turned on the radio. Mikey looked tired too. His eyeliner was smeared under his eyes and he was red and flustered. He cracked the window open a bit and Pete realised he had lost his sweatshirt. "Fuck," he muttered. But it was okay. He was still hot all over. His ears felt like they were full of cotton and he couldn't hear the car engine properly. "That was really good," he said as they turned onto the highway again.
Mikey's voice sounded distant when he said, "Yeah. Great. My ears are ringing, though."
"Mine too."
They had driven for maybe 20 minutes when the tire blew. Pete swore and veered, tried to keep going for a bit, but then there was suddenly smoke and lights started blinking on the dashboard and he had to pull over on to the curb. "Shit," he said. Then realized what had actually happened and what it meant. " Shit. "
The highway was dark; they were in between towns in the middle of the night, he didn't have a spare tire in the trunk, it was full of kneepads, boots and junk.
Mikey was staring at him, holding on to the door. "What, um. What happened?"
"I don't know," Pete said. "I – fuck." He leaned his head back and covered his face with both hands, breathed in, " Fuck!"
When he took his hands away again, Mikey was looking nervously around; there was just darkness outside. "What should we, um – What do we do?"
Pete wiped his hand over his eyes. "We have to call someone."
Mikey nodded. "Okay." He bit his lip. "I could call Gerard," he said after a while.
"Your brother doesn't have a car."
"He can take mom's. He won't say anything to them."
Pete thought about it. It would be nice to say yes and have Mikey's brother come pick them up and not have to deal with this shit right now. But he knew he would still have to get up tomorrow and explain to his parents why his car wasn't where they had left it last night but was instead sitting on the side of the highway. The difference was a few hours. He pulled a hand through his hair and sighed. "No," he said, as Mikey had already hauled out his cell phone. "I'll call dad."
His dad didn't say much on the phone. He could hear the faint laughter and chatter in the background so some of the guests were still there, or maybe were just leaving, as Pete explained where they were and his dad told him he'd be there in 45 minutes. Pete said, thank you and hung up.
"What – what did he say?" Mikey asked when Pete had put the cell on the dashboard.
"Not much he can say." Pete shrugged. He knew it wouldn't blow up until he was safely at home. He wondered what it would be like, probably worse than anything before.
"I'm sorry," Mikey said.
Pete shook his head. "Don't be. Not your fault."
"You know what you said before. They're – they're not really sending you to a, uh, detention camp or anything, are they?" Mikey asked, looking nervous.
Pete grimaced, but shook his head. "Not technically, but whatever." He kicked a little at a plastic McDonalds cup by his feet, and didn't try to keep the venom out of his voice, "It's a camp for guys like me to learn about the outdoors and get some good routines."
Mikey looked at him, frowning. "That sucks."
"Yeah."
Pete leaned his head back against the headrest and for a while the only thing that filled the car was the sound of the radio. When he looked over at Mikey again, Mikey was biting his lip and looking out of the window. "It was worth it," he said. Mikey turned to look at him, surprised. Pete smiled weakly. "This, and, like, being with you. Totally."
Mikey went a little red, but he looked happy. He leaned over and put a hand on Pete's arm and found his mouth on the second try, kissing him. Pete was surprised, but he kissed Mikey back and pulled away only when he ran out of air.
"Oh," he said, breathlessly. "Thanks."
Mikey nodded, but he didn't pull away. He kissed Pete again, longer this time with his mouth opened and just quick brushes of tongue, which was sexier somehow, even though Pete couldn't put his finger on exactly how.
He felt light-headed and happy and sucked on Mikey's tongue every time Mikey dipped it into his mouth, and when Mikey's hand slid up over Pete's zipper, he gasped, "Mikey," and broke the kiss, looking down at where Mikey's hand was between his legs. "Uh, we don't have to – I'm not sure - "
Mikey nodded. "Okay, he said, "Okay, but we could. I dunno. If you want."
He moved his hand slightly and Pete squirmed. He was both hot and uncomfortable and his dick stiffened, but almost in spite of his feelings; he wasn't sure about this and when Mikey's hand started pulling his jeans open, Pete grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "What if someone sees us?"
Mikey looked around. The stretch of the highway they were stranded on was completely empty and the only light inside the car was from the radio. He met Pete's eyes, then said, "Okay," and pulled his hand away from Pete's zipper.
"I. Maybe. We." Pete's heart was beating fast, a jackhammer in his chest, "I wanna kiss you though." He really wanted to make out with Mikey, because he wasn't sure when he would ever be alone with him again.
Mikey nodded and they found a position that was comfortable and worked in the small front seat; Mikey was still on Pete's side, straddling his thighs, but their hips were not pressed together and they kept the touching to above the waist. Pete loved the way their mouths were crashing together almost painfully, then sliding soft and slow, as if healing the bruises. He knew that Mikey was turned on, because it was pretty difficult to hide even if he couldn't feel his hard-on directly. He could tell from the way Mikey was panting into his mouth and shuffling uncomfortably on Pete's lap. His knee kept nudging between Pete's legs accidentally and Pete was so hot, he felt like he was running a fever.
They both watched as Mikey's hand returned to Pete's zipper and this time Pete didn't say no, even though he wasn't sure if he wanted it to happen right there and then. Mikey seemed a bit apprehensive too and once he'd gotten Pete's dick out, he just held it for a while without doing anything. Then Pete pushed up and Mikey moved his hand instinctively.
It was pretty good after that. Pete thought it was different from when he did it to himself. Mikey was looking down as if he wanted to study what he was doing, and Pete realized that Mikey probably hadn't touched someone else's dick before, but Pete was a virgin too when it came to guys and he wasn't sure if Mikey remembered that. He squirmed in the seat and Mikey looked up.
"You're staring like it's some kind of freak show," Pete said.
Mikey smiled a little and slid his thumb over the head of Pete's dick, which was slicker now. "Sorry," he said.
"Fuck." Pete braced his arms against the seat.
They didn't speak after that, but their foreheads brushed as they watched Pete's dick slip in and out of Mikey's fist. The radio was still playing and the sky outside was full of stars, as was Pete's head. His dad was on the way, but right now that didn't matter, all that mattered was what they were doing and how crazy good it felt, and how scary and stupid it was, and the sweet build up. Mikey steadied himself against the seat to get a better grip and when he exhaled, Pete could feel his hot breath across his mouth; they were that close. He was really close.
He was going to come right there in the front seat and Mikey was going to watch him; Pete felt his heart lurch and his stomach knot at the thought. There wasn't enough air and he gasped, turned his head to the side, into the seat. He'd been turned on since they were on the bed, since the heat and naked skin and deafening music reverberating in the club, even the car breaking down and the fucking storm of trouble he was about to walk into at home was part of the sparks shooting through his body as Mikey jacked him faster and Pete's hips jerked. He closed his eyes as he came; all there was was Mikey's hand.
When he had his breath back and could open his eyes again, Mikey's expression was pretty priceless.
"You okay?" Pete asked, biting his lip.
Mikey nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"I'm fine." He laughed. His jeans were still open, and he was sweaty and breathing fast.
Mikey smiled a little embarrassed as he wiped his hand with his other sleeve. He was still straddling Pete's lap. Pete pushed him over so he was sprawled across the seat, then tugged at Mikey's jeans.
"I'm going to blow you."
When Mikey squirmed a little in protest, Pete bit his stomach lightly and Mikey sputtered. He tugged Mikey's jeans down and pushed his black t-shirt up over his stomach, then there was a few seconds of co-ordination problems, but he got a hand on the seat, a hand on Mikey's hip and pressed his mouth wetly to the side of Mikey's dick, trying not to think too much about it.
He didn't go straight for it; he wanted a second to test the water, to see what someone's hard-on felt like against his mouth, so he just carefully licked a up the side then swirled his tongue, and then he dipped his head lower to take as much of it as he could.
Mikey made a sound. Pete hadn't expected him to make any sounds at all if he could help it, and for some reason it made it very real; he couldn't pretend he wasn't doing exactly what he was doing. He had a moment of heart-lurching panic when he imagined what the guys on the team would do if they saw him like that, going down on Mikey Way and liking it. But it was only because he had his eyes closed. When he opened them the car was quiet and dark and there was only him and Mikey again.
Mikey was braced on his elbows and he looked scared and tense and flustered. It was Mikey's first time, but it was new for both of them and Pete sort of wished Mikey wasn't looking. He felt a bit exposed with mouth on Mikey's dick like that, and the way he must look hot and turned on and a bit stupid. He lowered his mouth again, thought, fuck it, and stopped feeling self-conscious. He even moaned around Mikey's dick. It was fucking hot, giving head. When Mikey's hips started moving in short, sharp, uncontrolled thrusts, Pete said, "Come in my mouth."
Mikey gasped. "What? No," he said, and when Pete looked up, Mikey's eyes were wide. "No."
Pete's cell phone rang, making them both jump and then there was the sound of a car further up along the highway coming closer, bright headlight appearing around the bend. Pete quickly sat up and Mikey scrambled back, pulling his jeans and underwear up, haphazardly doing up the zipper.
"Peter, I'm here," his dad said when Pete answered the phone.
"Okay, we can see you," Pete said. After he hung up, he wiped a hand over his mouth and looked over at Mikey. "Sorry," he said.
Mikey shook his head. "No, no." He licked his lips, "I just didn't want to – "
"I know." Pete pulled a hand through his hair.
His dad's car pulled up next to them and stopped. When he opened the door, the small area was flooded by light.
"What happened?" his dad asked, when Pete opened the door and got out too.
"A tire blew, I think," Pete mumbled. "And then the engine. There was smoke and shi – stuff."
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