needles • frerard

fourty three

three weeks later

I rock my hips back onto his fingers, whining softly. "Good boy, Frankie, makin' your pretty little noises for me." He praises. I gasp, my legs tightening around his. My teeth sink into the skin connecting his neck and shoulder as I fall apart in his lap.

Frank doesn't usually remember dreams so clearly. The occasional nightmare will stick around, just not dreams. But this one, he remembers. And it refuses to leave his mind.

He thinks about it while he gets up out of bed. Gerard is already at work, which might be a good thing, because if Frank saw him he'd probably melt into a little puddle of lust.

He thinks about it while having his morning coffee.

He thinks about it during his dentist appointment.

He thinks about it as he enters a certain store in a certain strip mall.

He thinks about it while doing the dishes.

He thinks about it as he showers and prepares himself.

He thinks about it all day until Gerard gets home at 4 and he can finally fucking do something about it. 

The poor guy can barely even get a word in before Frank is loosely wrapping his arms around Gerard's neck and standing up on his tippy toes to kiss the taller one deeply.

"I missed you." Frank says.

"Aw, I missed you too." Gerard smiles, kissing him once more. Frank doesn't let him go, however, cupping his face and kissing him harder. Both of his hands are free; the brace is off on doctors orders and the multitude of cuts from the mirror are long gone. "Been th-thinkin' about you all f-fuckin' day." Frank mumbles.

"Oh?" Gerard raises an eyebrow.

"I wanna d-d-do things with you." The shorter one lets his teeth close around Gerard's bottom lip ever so gently, lightly biting before kissing him again.

"I just got home, lemme- lemme rinse off first, I'm covered in tattoo grime."

Frank licks up the side of Gerard's neck. "I like the t-tattoo grime."

"So, when your therapists said your sex drive would come back pretty strong once you started getting more comfortable... guess they were right."

"Guess th-they were. Now hurry the fuck up, p-please."

"Patience is a virtue, my dear."

Frank rolls his eyes and places another kiss on Gerard's soft lips before retiring to their bedroom. The artist follows, grabbing some clothes before heading to the bathroom. Frank hears the water a few moments after. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He picks up a few stray items of clothing and puts them in the hamper. He paces the room. He straightens out the new mirror that's in the place of the old one. He lays back with his knees bent over the edge of the bed, and lazily air-guitars a Black Flag song. After ten minutes that feel like hours, the water shuts off. Frank sits up so fast he gets lightheaded. He only has to wait a minute or so before Gerard walks in. Immediately, Frank is blushing, since the taller one is only in his boxers and a tank top. "I didn't know what level of clothing you wanted me in, so..."

"Mm, it's n-n-not gonna be staying on for long. Besides, you l-l-look hot in anything."

Gerard giggles softly. "Thanks." His hair is slightly damp, from the mist of the shower and from running wet hands through it. It's just a little bit slicked back, and shiny from the water. A couple extra droplets decorate his neck and arms.