Mister Francis Anthony Iero, Junior, 2 страница

James bowed his head and took his leave back down stairs.

Gerard opened the door across from the staircase, entering the library. His younger brother, Michael, was reclining on the chaise longue, a thick book in his lap. Gerard sat on the couch opposite him and picked up his current book from the end table. The fire crackled softly, warming the room and adding more light.

“Why must you choose men, brother?” Michael asked, eyes never leaving his book. They’ve had this discussion before and the answer never changes.

“Because it’s harder for a man to fake an orgasm like a woman can so I know when I’m doing something right,” Gerard replied automatically. “Besides, I like the feeling of them coming against my stomach.”

“Gross,” Michael said.

Gerard ignored the comment and opened his book, picking up where he left off. The two remained in silence, only the fire making any noise.

“You know sodomy is considered illegal in this country, as well as most countries around the world,” Michael said. “And you still refuse to kill your meals,” he added quietly.

“You know I can’t kill them, Michael,” Gerard glared, setting his book on the couch. “I could never kill them, even when we were young! We used to be human too! Don’t forget that!” he shouted.

Michael looked up at him. His eyes were sad and knowing and Gerard hated it. “I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Gerard took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before speaking again. “I’m going to bed.” Frank would be gone by now. Robert will be taking him home, making sure he’s put in bed and any traces of Gerard are gone from his apartment. Gerard will never see him again. He frowned as he left the library, walking the short distance to his room. He locked the door behind him, stripped off his robe and crawled under the warm covers. His pillows still smelled like Frank.

~

“Francis?” Linda called, unlocking the door with her spare key. “Francis, are you ill?” she asked into the silent room. The sun was just turning the sky pink but the curtains were drawn and the room dark. She huffed out and made her way to her son’s bed.

He was curled under the covers, head peeking out. Linda sat on the edge of the bed and shook his shoulder.

“Francis, wake up, mio figlio,” she said softly.

Frank groan, curling up tighter. His lower back felt like it was on fire and his head was surely stuffed with cotton fluff. “Mama,” he whimpered and clutched at his covers.

Linda placed her hand on Frank’s forehead and then his cheeks. She frowned when she felt how warm and clammy his skin was. “Oh dear, you’re burning up. You stay in bed and I shall bring up some soup in a short while,” she said, standing and walking over to the dresser.

She poured some water into the basin and grabbed a cloth, wetting and wringing it out. Moving back over to her son, she wiped at his face, cleaning it of the sweat.

“Thank you, mama,” Frank said, curling back under his cover.

“Rest up, mio figlio,” she smiled, walking to the door. She shut it quietly, leaving Frank in darkness.

He whimpered again, resting his palm on his lower back. A flash of dark hair and sparkling eyes flitted through his mind and his eyes snapped open. Who was that? He racked his brain, trying to find more details for this mysterious person. He came up empty. Only the dark hair and sparkling eyes.

They were brown, no. Hazel. With hints of green and gold. It felt like he went into a trance when he pictured them.

Frank rubbed at his back, massaging the muscles before pulling the covers back and sitting up slowly. He slid off the bed, wincing and gripping the headboard tightly. He didn’t remember hurting his back yesterday. In fact, he didn’t remember much of yesterday, except that he was getting ill again and was sent upstairs by his mom.

Taking a deep breath, Frank shuffled his way over to the dresser and pulled off his under shirt. He looked in the mirror hanging on the wall and frowned. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, his hair was flat on his head and his eyes had dark circles under them.

I look like shit, he thought dejectedly, picking up the cloth his mother left. He sloshed it around the water, lathered it with soap and started washing his face, neck and chest.

A shock of pain went up his spine and he let out a sharp whine, grasping the dresser tight. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, exhaling through his nose until the pain subsided.

The door clicked open and Frank looked up. His mom came in, balancing a plate on top of a bowl in one hand and a small jug of water in the other.

“Ah, Francis. You’re awake,” she smiled, setting the jug on the table and grabbing the plate before its contents spilled. “How are you feeling?”

Frank thought for a moment, watching his mother prepare his breakfast. “Weak,” he said, “and my back hurts. Did I injure myself yesterday?” He moved over to the table and sat in the chair.

Linda slid the bowl of warm soup in front of Frank. “I do not think so,” she said, thinking. She hummed softly, cutting a few slices of bread and cheese. “No, I don’t remember you injuring yourself, just that you had a cough. How is your cough, mio figlio?”

“Fine, mama,” Frank replied, eating a spoonful of soup. “I haven’t coughed since I woke up.”

“And your fever?” she asked, pouring him a glass of water. She checked his temperature and frowned. “Siete ancora molto caldo.”

“Mama, we are in England, not Italy,” Frank said. He dipped his bread into his soup, soaking it thoroughly before taking a bite.

“Forgive me, bambino, for speaking the language I was born with,” she said, standing with her hands on her hips. She smiled, ruffling Frank’s hair and kissed his forehead. “Eat up and get some more rest.”

“Yes, mama,” Frank said, lifting his bowl and drinking some soup. Linda left the room, shutting the door behind her and Frank continued to slowly eat his meal.

He piled the dishes on top of each other and pushed them to the center of the table when he was done. Frank stood up slowly and made his way back to bed where he crawled under the now cool sheets. It was a pleasant feeling on his flushed skin. He flipped the pillow over and settled down under the cover.

~

“Pa, do you know a Way?” Frank asked, pulling a tray of rolls out of the oven. “I mean anyone with the last name Way?” It had been two months after he woke up in his bed with no memory of the night before. He still had flashes of bright and hypnotic hazel eyes but recently, the name Way came to his mind. Maybe the eyes belonged to a man or woman named Way.

Frank Sr. frowned, thinking as he kneaded the dough for the next batch. “Can’t say that I do, son. Why?” he asked, dropping the dough into a bread pan.

Frank shrugged, moving the rolls to a cooling rack. “No reason, I guess.” He grabbed a basket of cool rolls and walked to the front of the bakery, smiling at his mother.

“Thank you, Francis,” she said, handing a customer his change. “Have a nice day.”

Frank set the basket on the back counter, nodding to another customer who walked in. He drummed his fingers on the wooden counter, waiting for his mother to finish serving the customer. “Mama, do you know anyone with the last name Way?” he asked, picking at his nail beds.

“Hmm?” she hummed, dusting her hands on her apron. “No, mio figlio. I do not think so.” She looked at the clock next to the register. “Come, dear, it’s almost lunch time. Put the sign up, will you?”

“Yes, mama,” Frank said, walking to the door. He closed the door, locking it and turning the sign in the window to read closed for lunch.

~

Frank wrapped his scarf closer to his neck and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. He might have been in Southern Italy but the weather was reminding him of a London winter. Rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking him to the bone as he entered the bar.

He sighed at the warmth, hanging his coat on the rack along with his scarf. He warmed his hands by the fire before heading up to the bar, ordering a strong drink.

It’s been two years since he left England. He wanted to live on his own and Italy was the perfect place. It was, after all, his birth place. Sorrento, a small village by the sea. A sea which was currently pummelling the shore with a ferocity the likes of which he’d never seen. He smiled to the barkeep, a pretty woman with nice curves and a tender smile, as he sipped his drink.

Over the last three years, he had been remembering small details about the mysterious person with the last name Way. He still did not know if they were a man or a woman, but he did know more of their features.

Ebony hair that brushed their shoulders. Bright hazel eyes that sparkled with flecks of green and gold. Alabaster skin. A voice that sent chills through Frank’s body. He had been searching for the person since he first met them, All Hallows’ Eve three years ago. Frank didn’t know what had happened when they met, what they talked about or even where he was that night.

He finished the drink, signalling to the barkeep again.

She filled his glass with a smile, “Rough day, dear?”

“You could say that,” Frank chuckled. “Got caught in the rain on my way home.”

The soft chatter and clinking of glasses echoed through the room as the barkeep rested her forearms on the counter, bosoms on display. “I can tell something’s on your mind. Care to talk about it?” she asked.

Frank looked up from his drink and gave her a half smile. “I’ve been searching for someone I met a few years ago,” he started and she hummed. “I don’t know their first name or even if they’re a man or lady, but I just know I need to find them again. I don’t know why but I just do.” He frowned, finishing lamely.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” she giggled, light hitting her face and revealing her freckles. A guy down the bar tapped his glass on the counter and she nodded. “Be right back, dear,” she said to Frank, walking over to the other man.

He watched her fill his glass with beer, chatting to him and a few other men. The door opened, shutting with a soft thump seconds later, and Frank sipped at his drink.

Gerard removed his wet coat and scarf, hanging it with the other patrons. He was out hunting and a delicious scent brought him to the bar. A scent he knew but that was impossible. He hasn’t seen him for over three years. Mikey and he left England for their hometown of Sorrento two years ago, living in a manor they owned.

He looked around at the customers, all men not including the woman barkeep. Gerard knew her, a sweet young thing whose family owned the building, but he still had no taste for a lady’s blood.

A young man at the bar caught his eye. It was his scent that Gerard smelled. He watched him finish his glass before the barkeep, Jamia, hurried over, refilling it for him. The man smiled to her, getting a grin in return.

Gerard strode over, taking the seat next to the man. He smiled when he saw his face. It was him. The man whose blood Gerard never forgot and who could not be control. Frank Iero.

Jamia smiled to Gerard, moving in front of him. “Gerard, I haven’t seen you in months!” she beamed, reaching over and hugging him. He returned the hug, patting her back before sitting back. “What’ll it be?” she asked, hands on the counter.

“Whisky, please Jamia,” Gerard replied. “Thank you.”

She nodded, grabbing a glass and pouring the drink. Frank glanced at him, eyes wide with recognition. That wasn’t something Gerard had seen before. He sipped at the drink when it was handed to him.

“G-gerard Way?” he asked, turning slightly to face Gerard more.

“Yes,” Gerard said with a soft smile. He was cautious of Frank. No victim had ever remembered him. His toxin was to make sure of that.

Frank gaped at Gerard for a second, Jamia watching the two of them. “Do you know Gerard, dear?” she asked.

“Yes,” Frank said, not looking at her. “He’s the one I’ve been searching for.”

Searching? Gerard thought. He’s been searching for me? For how long?

“Well, talk about convenient,” Jamia chuckled. “And now you finally know the person is a man.”

Frank nodded, finishing his current drink. He made a face when the alcohol burned his throat, nodding when Jamia held up the bottle.

“I-No one had ever heard of a person named Way when I was in London,” he started, looking down at his drink.

Gerard watched him closely, noting how relaxed his body was. He wondered if he could take Frank home, maybe feed from him again. “I’m sorry, I can be kind of a recluse without realizing it. And I don’t think the English weather agreed with my health,” he said, finishing his first glass.

He pointed to the counter and Jamia nodded, setting the whisky bottle down. “I’ll check on you two in a bit,” she said, going back over to the group at the opposite end of the bar.

Gerard poured himself a new glass, topping off Frank’s before setting the bottle down. “How long had you been searching for me?” he asked.

Frank lifted his head, eyes already becoming glassy from the liquor. “Um, about three years now. I wanted to, uh, to ask you what happened that night?” Gerard tensed slightly, alcohol burning his throat. “I-I don’t remember anything. Just waking up in my apartment,” Frank said and Gerard relaxed.

“We talked,” Gerard said. “Nothing more.”

“But what did we talk about?” Frank asked, leaning over into Gerard space.

His glass was empty again and Gerard refilled it. He wasn’t a fan of intoxicated blood, but he needed to get Frank out of the bar soon. “Nothing important,” he said, drinking the whisky still in his glass as Frank down his own drink in one go. “Quite the impressive drinker,” he smiled. He could smell how drunk Frank already was but it wasn’t enough to coax him home.

“’M not corned,” he mumbled, eyes on the amber liquid filling his glass.

“I didn’t say you were,” Gerard said, shaking his head slightly.

“I know, but I’m not,” Frank smiled, leaning against the counter. “Yet,” he snickered, holding his glass up and swallowing the whisky. “More please!”

Gerard chuckled, refilling his glass once more. Frank seemed to be a happy drunk which would help his plan. “I think it’s about time for you to go home, Frank,” he said, voice stern.

Frank shook his head, pushing back from the counter. “No, ’m not done drinkin’,” he stated, words slurring. “An you haven’t told me what we talked about,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Gerard’s chest.

“The weather, the economy, my blood lust, the usual things men talk about over coffee,” Gerard said, hand waving in Frank’s direction. He watched Frank frown and poured him another drink.

“You’re tryin’ ta get me drunk so I’ll forget, but it won’ work,” Frank said. He gulped down the new drink, cringing at the burn and slammed the glass on the counter. His swaying told Gerard he was ready.

“C’mon,” Gerard said, standing. He grabbed Frank’s arm, helping him to his feet as Jamia came over.

“Oh dear, I think he’s had enough,” she gasped, shaking her head.

Gerard nodded, laughing softly as Frank gripped his shirt. “Yeah. I’ll take him home.” He pulled out his wallet, handing Jamia the money for the drinks and a tip. “Good night, Jamia,” he said, wrapping an arm around Frank’s waist.

“G’night Gerard,” she smiled, setting the now empty bottle under the counter and taking the money over to the register.

Frank shuffled over to the door, head spinning. He reached for his coat and scarf, fingers missing the clothing and hitting the wall.

Gerard sighed, grabbing the coat with Frank’s scent and slipping it on the drunk man’s body. He wrapped the scarf around Frank’s neck before bundling himself up. Robert was waiting outside with the carriage when he opened the door, exiting the bar back into the downpour.

“Find what you were looking for, sir?” he asked, opening the carriage door. He sniffed the air when Gerard helped Frank into the compartment. “Is that… You’ve never gone after one person twice.”

“I know,” Gerard replied, climbing in himself. The door shut with a snap and he slid his arm around Frank’s waist, holding him close. He buried his mouth and nose in the younger’s wet hair, savouring his scent as the carriage started moving.

Frank hummed softly. His head was on Gerard’s shoulder, bouncing from the carriage ride. His vision was blurry and his head was foggy. He didn’t know how long the ride was but the carriage soon came to a stop, jogging his head and making him groan.

“Shh, we’re here,” Gerard said, sliding away and pulling Frank’s waist with him. Robert helped them both out of the carriage, holding the umbrella overhead. Gerard nodded to him, taking the umbrella and walking to the front door.

It opened as he reached it, James holding his hand out for the umbrella with a smile. “Welcome back, Master Way.”

“Thank you, James,” Gerard said, hiking Frank’s slumping body up.

Frank went limp almost immediately and Gerard lifted him into his arms. He’d passed out. Gerard sighed and carried him upstairs to his bedroom, James trailing behind. Gerard set Frank’s feet on the floor and held him up as James unbuttoned his coat, taking it and his scarf off his wet body. “I assume you’ll be waiting until tomorrow to feed, sir?”

“Yes,” Gerard said, setting Frank on the covers. He removed his coat and scarf, handing the items to James, who left with a nod.

The door was shut with a soft click and Gerard moved over to Frank. His clothes were still damp, sticking to his skin. He removed his shoes and socks, setting them at the floor near the foot of the bed. He lifted the unconscious man, holding him in a sitting position as he unbuttoned his shirt and trousers. Removing the garments, he tossed them onto the floor along with Frank’s undershirt. He left the younger man’s nether garments on and lifted his body off the bed once more, pulling back the covers and sliding him between the sheets.

He then turned to his dresser, opening the drawer and grabbing out his pajamas. Changing into the clothes, Gerard walked around to the opposite side of the bed, slipping under the covers. He wrapped his arm around Frank’s cold body, pulling him close and snuffed out the lamp.

~

Frank groaned, snuggling down into the covers. His head was pounding and he cried out when he opened his eyes. “Fuck! What the devil? How much did I fucking drink?”

He rubbed his face, sitting up and looking around the room. It was completely unfamiliar. He was in a stranger’s house. Someone must have gotten him drunk and taken him home. But who? He blinked, rubbing his eyes again. He remembered meeting someone. He remembered meeting him. Gerard Way. The man he had been looking for.

But. Was he in Gerard’s house? Or someone else’s?

At the foot of the large bed was a set of folded clothes. His clothes. His eyes went wide, glancing down to his body. He sighed when he saw he was not naked, as he had feared.

Another look around the room revealed all the drapes were drawn, letting no light in. Frank didn’t know what time it was, there was no clock to be found. He crawled out of the bed; the plush rug underneath his feet was warm and soft. He grabbed his clothes, quickly redressing himself and moving to the dresser. He poured water into the basin on top, washing his face and neck. He swayed on his feet, head still pounding, as he made his way to the door. Opening it and peeking out into the hall, he saw no one. The house was silent.

Frank slowly opened the door fully, cautiously walking out into the hall. The house was large and warm, oil lamps burning bright on the walls. He listened at the next door, ear pressed firm, but heard nothing.

Maybe everyone was out for the day?

He walked down the stairs into the main hall and jumped when a voice spoke.

“Ah, Mr. Iero. Good morning.”

Frank turned, hand over his heart, and stared at the older man. He looked familiar.

“You may call me James,” he said, bowing slightly. “I am Master Way’s butler. Would you care for lunch?”

Frank nodded dumbly. So, I am in Gerard’s house, he thought, following James.

“Um,” he started, wincing when his head throbbed again. “Wh-where is Gerard?”

“He is… resting at the moment,” James replied, holding his arm out when they reached the table.

Frank sat, feeling awkward with all the luxuries around him. His mother may have come from the upper society but he still felt uncomfortable. He took the room in, the lush rug under the table, the fine cloth draped over the wood, the expensive cutlery in front of him. He jumped when two dishes were set down, the bowl full of vegetable soup sloshing but not spilling over the rim. A small plate with two soft rolls was behind the bowl and a glass of wine was poured for him.

“T-thank you,” he mumbled, looking up at James.

“It is my pleasure, sir,” James bowed. “Master Gerard was clear when he informed me that you do not partake of meat.”

Frank nodded, picking up the spoon when James left him alone in the room. He wondered where Gerard might be in the house. If he was in the house. He didn’t believe James when he said the man was resting.

He also wondered why Gerard brought him here, to Gerard’s house. But then he remembered that Gerard wouldn’t know where Frank was staying while in Sorrento. He tore a roll in half, dipping one side into his soup before taking a bite.

After he finished his lunch, a young woman took the dishes away with a wink in Frank’s direction. He gave a nervous cough and decided to walk through the house.

All the curtains in the house seemed to be closed. A peek outside through the front reception room revealed a blue sky, sun high and bright. “Weird,” he said to himself. Why would they have the curtains closed on such a gorgeous day? He released the curtain, soft, navy velvet sliding out of his fingers, and wandered the rest of the manor.

The building was unlike any he’s ever seen, with its sprawling rooms and seemingly priceless furniture, but Frank only ran into two people while he was downstairs. James and the perky maid, who seemed to have her eye on Frank.

It wasn’t that he did not like women, because he did. Just most women tended to ignore him. They usually wanted a tall, handsome man who had more than enough money to buy them lavish jewelry and trinkets, and he was none of that.

He gave the girl a nervous smile and headed up the staircase. Even though it was in the dead of winter, the house remained warm. It reminded Frank of a warm summer’s day and he smiled.

There was a set of large double doors at the top of the staircase, heavy, dark wood hiding its interior. Frank grasped the glass knob, looking over his shoulder once, and turned it, pushing the door open.

The flickering light of a fire danced across the wide room. He slipped in, eyes wide and mouth open. Bookcases lined every wall, each completely filled, almost like one more book and they would burst at their seams. The large hearth was set between tall windows, both covered by the thick drapes. There were two plush sofas set in the center, facing each other, and one had a body resting with a book in hand.

The man turned the page in his book before stiffening, looking back towards the door. “Frank, you’re awake,” Gerard smiled, placing a ribbon between the pages and closing his book.

Frank watched, back to the door, as Gerard stood, setting the book on the sofa, and walked over to him. “I-I’m sorry I fell asleep, um, i-in your bed,” Frank stuttered, face flushing.

Gerard smiled, stopping a few feet from Frank. “That’s quite alright,” he said. “You had a lot of alcohol last night and could not answer when I enquired as to where you were staying, so I brought you to my home.” Frank nodded, still embarrassed. “Come,” Gerard said, extending his hand. “Sit with me, please.”

With another nod, Frank took his hand, warm and soft in his own, and was led over to the sofas. Gerard slid his book to the corner, sitting and patting the spot next to him. Frank sat, nervous and tense as Gerard relaxed back into the cushions.

“There is no need to be nervous, Frank,” Gerard cooed, voice soft as silk, but Frank did not relax.

He stayed perched on the end of the seat, hands gripping his knees. “We, uh,” he started, looking at his bare feet. “We didn’t do, um, anything, last night. Did we?” he asked, biting his lip.

“No,” Gerard replied, hand sliding across Frank’s shoulders, coming to rest in the center of his shoulder blades. “I would never take advantage of you while you are intoxicated.”

Frank nodded, still uneasy.

“Jamia said you had been searching for me,” he said and Frank looked up. “Might I ask why and how you knew I was in Sorrento?”

“I,” Frank started, swallowing and taking a breath. “I didn’t know. I came to Italy to visit my family,” he said, never breaking eye contact. The fire made Gerard’s eyes appear like they were on fire themselves, light and shadow weaving across them.

“I thought your family lived in London,” Gerard said, removing his hand and propping his arm over the back of the sofa.

Frank frowned, back suddenly cold. “My parents live in London, but their families are from Italy.” Gerard hummed, letting him continue. “My mother’s from a very high class family in Venice. She met my father, who was in the city for work and they married in secret. Her parents didn’t approve but they just, let it happen, I guess. I think it’s because they liked my father. After they were wed, they moved to Sorrento where my father’s family lives.”

Gerard nodded, taking the information in. “I did not know the Iero’s were from Sorrento. How long have they lived here?” he asked, curious to learn the answer. Sorrento was, and has been for over two thousand years, his hometown.

“Oh, they moved here from Sicily in the late fifteenth century,” Frank said.

Gerard went quiet, eyes flicking from side to side as he thought.

Frank felt uneasy again, thinking maybe he said something wrong. He shifted in his spot, feet rubbing against each other, and scratched at his stubble.

“Oh, yes,” Gerard finally said, eyes brightening. “Now I remember. They live just on the other side of town, no?”

“Um, yes. On the eastern side,” Frank supplied, fingers pushing his hair back. “I’m staying with my grandparents for a while. Before I go back to London.”

Gerard nodded. He knew the family, not well, but he had heard of them. Fairly poor and had always been. “So were you born in Sorrento?” he asked, moving his hand to Frank’s back again.

“I was,” Frank answered. “But we moved to London before I was two years. My mother’s family only saw me once before that, so, when I told my parents that I wanted to come to Italy, they both sent letters to their families. Both of which said they’d be happy to let me stay with them during my visit. My mother’s parents even insisted on paying for the journey.”

Gerard hummed again, palm sliding down Frank’s back.

“How long have you been in Sorrento?” Frank asked, relaxing against his hand.

“I was born in Sorrento a long time ago, as was my younger brother,” he said, scooting closer to Frank.

“You have a brother?”

Gerard nodded. “Yes, he’s asleep at the moment and will be until night fall. I, too, usually sleep until night fall, but I decided to wake early in case you needed me.”

Frank blinked, brow furrowed. “In case I needed you? But what would I need you for?” he asked. He was a grown man of twenty five. He did not know why he would need Gerard.

“It is not important. At the moment, I need you,” he said, eyes flicking down quickly before catching Frank’s gaze again.

“Me?”

Gerard hummed, leaning in close. Frank hadn’t realized how close the other man had moved. Their legs were pressed together, Gerard’s warm hand low on Frank’s back and his face nuzzling Frank’s neck. “I went out last night for a reason,” he said, warm breath sending a shiver down Frank’s body. “I would like to feed from you.”

“Feed?” Frank whispered. He gasped when Gerard’s lips skimmed up his neck, pressing a kiss just below his ear.

“Yes, feed. But only if you agree,” Gerard said, lips soft against Frank’s ear. “If you say no, I will take you home.”

Another kiss, this time to Frank’s cheek. He knew he should say no. His mind was screaming for him to push Gerard away before this went too far. He opened his mouth, every fiber of his being demanding him to say ‘no’. “Yes,” he whispered, turning his face to meet Gerard’s.

Their lips slid together and Gerard cupped Frank’s jaw, tilting his head up. Gerard tugged softly on Frank’s bottom lip, hearing a low whine before releasing it. He kissed Frank once more before pulling away. “Come,” he whispered. “To my bed chamber.”

Gerard stood, grabbing Frank’s hand and helping his to his feet. They walked out of the library, turning left and down to the end of the hall. Gerard opened the door to the room Frank had woken up in, letting the younger walk in first.

The door was closed, key clicking when Gerard locked it. He wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist, holding him from behind. “If you want to stop, just say so,” he whispered. “I will not force you into this.”

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04