A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Thirty Four - The Pages Are All Torn And Frayed

Frank turned to Gerard, folding his arms on the table and furrowing his brow. "You really thought that taking me to a gay bar in Vegas would be romantic?"

Gerard blinked at him from over his Coke. "It is what it is," he said equivocally, shrugging and returning to his drink.

"That doesn't answer my question," Frank huffed, gulping down some beer and narrowing his eyes. "In fact, you never answer any of my questions about yourself."

Gerard stayed silent, sipping the Coke and avoiding Frank's gaze.

"Why don't you ever drink alcohol?"

Gerard stared at the dark liquid. "I do."

"No," Frank disagreed. "You don't. I mean, you drink a little wine and I've seen you drink beer a few times, but you never get refills and you never drink it in your free time. You never just drink and enjoy yourself. Why?"

"I just don't," Gerard muttered, digging his nail against a dent in the tabletop.

"And when you took me out to that sushi place, and I tried to kiss you when I was drunk - you wouldn't let me. Was it because I tasted like liquor?"

Gerard's hand curled into a loose fist. "I wasn't in the mood."

Frank snorted. "Obviously."

Gerard sighed and fell silent.

"We should play a game," Frank said, leaning forwards and looking at Gerard with glittering eyes.

"I don't really like games," Gerard told him.

Frank ignored him. "Here's how it works - you tell me why you don't drink, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Gerard hesitated. "You go first, then."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Promise you'll tell me after."

Gerard weighed his options, then shrugged. "Yes, fine. I promise."

"Okay," Frank said, smiling easily and cocking his head at him. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"How did you end up alone and on the streets?"

Frank's grin vanished. "Oh. I...okay. Well." He took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. "My dad left my mom and I when I was nine. She struggled to keep the apartment for around a year, but...she couldn't find jobs which paid well enough, and we were evicted a week before my tenth birthday." He chewed on his lip. "It was okay at first, I guess. We got by. And then when I was twelve, this man came and...he...hurt her, really badly. He didn't see me because I was hiding, but she lost too much blood and she died in the morning." Frank dropped his head, fingers curling towards and away from his palms rhythmically. "After that, it was just me. There were some other men like that one, but I got away, usually. I got a job when I was sixteen and it was pretty shitty, but I ended up with my first girlfriend, who was older and had an apartment and let me move in for a while, until I saved up enough for my own place...and then I realized I was also into guys, and you know the rest."

Gerard looked at him for a long while, and then he nodded. "Okay."

Frank's forehead creased. "Okay? It's not o-fucking-kay."

"Well," Gerard pointed out, "in the big scheme of things, you're okay now, right?"

"Probably not by other people's standards but...yeah, sure." Frank eyed him curiously.

"Well, there's that. I'm glad you're okay. Sort of."

Frank nodded, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "So," he said, "what about you? Why don't you drink?"

Gerard's shoulders slumped. "I used to be an alcoholic."

Frank waited, prompting for him to continue, but he didn't. "Fucking hell," he said, frowning furiously. "That's all you're going to tell me?"

"What more is there to tell?" Gerard asked dully. "I was going through a lot of shit at the time. I started drinking. It didn't agree with me, it sucked, I sucked, I stopped."

Frank regarded him with frustration. "What shit were you going through?"

Gerard stiffened like Frank had just insulted him. "A bad relationship," he said shortly. "Among other things."

"Like, an abusive boyfriend?" Frank asked, eyes wide.

Gerard cringed. "I never said it was that kind of relationship." Inside, he was panicking. Frank couldn't know. Nobody could ever know what had happened.

"Were there problems between you and Mikey?"

Gerard looked at him accusingly. "No! Mikey has nothing to do with it."

"So it's still happening?"

"No." Gerard glared at him. "Nothing's wrong."

Frank looked unconvinced. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Does it have to do with the current topic?" Gerard hedged warily. Frank shook his head and he relaxed a little. "Fine. Ask away."

"Are you an artist?"

Gerard choked on his Coke, setting it down unsteadily and coughing. Frank's face was earnest, though his eyes were laughing at him a little. "What?" he asked.

"You said you wanted to draw me. Do you draw a lot? Why didn't you tell me?"

Gerard looked down. "I'm not very good," he said uncertainly.

"I won't know if you are or not unless you show me," Frank pointed out. Gerard shook his head, hunching in on himself a little. He didn't...he didn't show his drawings to anyone anymore. "Cmon," Frank said, reaching out and touching his hand, tangling their fingers. "Please? You said you'd draw me. And it's nighttime, and there's moonlight." He sounded hopeful.

Gerard raised his head slowly, peering at Frank from under his messy hair. Frank's green eyes blinked owlishly and he bit his lip, tapping his Halloween fingers on the table. Frank could be an asshole and annoying and even a little mean at times, but...he wanted Gerard to draw him, that much was clear. And a small, selfish part of Gerard wanted to do it to impress him, although there wasn't anything very impressive about his art. Frank squeezed his hand and tilted his head. "Please?"

Gerard relented. "Alright," he murmured, and took out some bills to pay for the drinks, handing them to the waitress as she passed by. Frank stood up, gleefully bouncing on his heels, and Gerard rolled his eyes. "Let's get back to the hotel room, Mr. Eager."

Frank stuck his tongue out at him, rubbing up against his side and making a man who Gerard had noticed watching them frown. The man had oily looking hair and sunglasses, and his expression was almost a pout when Gerard wrapped an arm around Frank's slight shoulders and kissed him firmly. It was an obvious gesture of ownership, and the man got it, redirecting his attention to some other unfortunate soul.

Frank hadn't seen the man and responded eagerly, pushing his tongue against Gerard's, and Gerard chuckled and pulled away, tossing his head. "Let's get to the car first," he suggested.

xoxoxo

They got to the hotel room in a fairly dignified manner, actually, and Gerard was able to lock the door without Frank assaulting him before he could do it. Instead, Frank had settled down on the bed, swinging his legs and watching Gerard, sort of waiting.

Gerard turned back to him, suddenly nervous - though he didn't show it.

Frank asked quietly, "Do you have a sketchbook?"

Gerard blinked, and then nodded a little belatedly, pushing hair out of his face. "Uh. Yes."

"Could I look at it?"

Gerard was taken aback by the directness of the question. His immediate instinct was to snap that no, no he could not see it, because it was his and it was personal. It was very personal - a look inside his head that nobody should have, nobody could have. But maybe, when Frank looked through it and realized what a terrible artist he actually was, he'd have the sense to just laugh it off and not make Gerard draw him. Gerard wanted to - he did - but at the same time, it made him more anxious than he'd been in years. Anxious for approval, acceptance, awe, adoration....anxious that, in the more likely event, he wouldn't get any of those things.

Gerard swallowed. He went over to his bag, tossed haphazardly in the corner. He bent down and unzipped a side pocket in the inside, mostly hidden, and took a worn leather journal, with coffee stains on the dark tan cover and fingerprints on the latch which tied it closed. He handed it over to Frank and tried not to feel like he was selling half of his soul.

Frank took it carefully in his hands. Gerard was a little touched by how gently he held it - it was obvious that the book was old, and that it was important to Gerard. Frank glanced at him for consent before opening it gingerly, the soft leather cover falling back and revealing the first of many ink and pencil covered pages.

The first page had Gerard's name scrawled onto it in haphazard script. He'd written it there...god, at least ten years ago. Probably even longer. The letters were faded, and Frank ran his fingertip over them before peering at the other things on the page. They were mostly scribbles - the vague suggestion of a face, a tangle of ballpoint pen dragons and a border of roughly sketched monsters and doodles from comic book panels. The color rose in Gerard's cheeks as Frank flipped the page, revealing anatomy studies mostly made up of shapes, all angles and sharpness. Gerard had written in the margins, too, though his handwriting was basically illegible.

Frank kept turning pages, which were covered in character designs, sketches of people on subways, and grotesque, leering faces concocted during chemical romance. Frank got to cleaner page, on which there was only one sketch. It was a man, his face turned away, his bare torso visible from where he was sitting up. The rest of him was covered by messily rendered sheets, and the man's short hair was ruffled, leading to slight stubble on his jaw. What could be seen of his profile was soft, curving.

Frank studied that drawing longer than the others, and flipped the page, only to find many more. They were all of different men - all different shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and all in different poses - though most of them were in bed, and many of their faces were hidden or shadowed. Gerard watched his reaction - but Frank's eyes gave nothing away. He just kept gazing at the drawings, until he got to the last of them.

It was a man's profile, but nothing was hidden in the sharp and angry lines of his face. Gerard remembered what it had felt like to make that drawing - his pen furious across the paper as he captured the image of the man he hated so much. His lips were pulled up in a sadistic sneer, eyebrow raised mockingly. The coldness of his eyes was portrayed even through Gerard's limited skill, his hair messy and stubble rampant along his jaw. It was nothing like the previous sketches, which had been so soft and lazy - Gerard had done this one with anger pumping through him, and it showed.

Frank spoke then. "Did you sleep with all of these guys?"

Gerard let out a shuttered breath. "Yes. For a night."

Frank paused, and pointed at the terrible man. "What about him?"

"Yes." Gerard said nothing more.

Frank closed the sketchbook and Gerard felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Of course Frank didn't want to see any more - it was all foolish, angsty doodles.

But Frank curled against his side, warm and solid, and whispered, "Those are amazing." He slipped the sketchbook into Gerard's lap and nuzzled at his neck. "Really. It's like...a cross between comic book and classical art....I mean, I'm not a fuckin' art critic or anything, but what I saw was...really good. You're talented."

Gerard's fingers wrapped around the spine of the sketchbook almost timidly. "You're just saying that."

"No," Frank mumbled, shoving him a little. "You idiot. They're incredible, and so are you. Fucked up, but incredible."

Gerard's brow furrowed. He didn't know what to say to that.

"I still want you to draw me," Frank said, soft and persuasive. "Like you drew the others...but you should draw my face." He kissed Gerard's jaw, the sensitive spot just below his ear, and Gerard shivered. "Draw me like you said you would...moonlight, all my tattoos."

"There's no moonlight," Gerard replied.

"Turn the lights off," Frank shot back, moving away from him to sprawl across the bed, struggling out of his shirt and jeans. Gerard watched him with large eyes before stumbling towards the light switch. He flicked it...and when he turned back, Frank had pushed open the balcony curtains and taken off his boxers. He was lying with his eyes shut on the bed, and silver light came from the night sky outside and painted him with an ethereal glow.

Frank cracked an eye open and raised his eyebrows. "So are you gonna draw me, or not?"

Gerard's mouth felt dry. Fuck, Frank was beautiful. With shaky hands, he got pencils and charcoal from his bag - Frank would look so good in the smoky grays and blacks. He almost forgot his eraser, clutching it in his sweaty palm, and got onto the bed, next to Frank.

Frank looked at him questioningly, rolling towards him, onto his side. "You're gonna draw me from there?"

Gerard took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming himself. He waited until the familiar wave of detached aloofness overcame his mind - he could hide what he truly felt, then, as he did whenever he hurt Frank or anyone else for that matter. It was better when he couldn't feel...better when he could just submit to his own anger and bitterness. When he looked back at Frank, the anxiety in his face was gone, replaced by a smooth mask of cool apathy. "Get on your back."

Frank stilled, recognizing his words as a command. He paused, and Gerard knew he was weighing his options mentally - disobey and be punished or comply and get what he wanted. It only took a few seconds before Frank sighed softly and moved so that he was on his back again.

"Turn your head to the side...yes, on the pillow. Like that." Frank hummed and rubbed his cheek against the fabric. "Keep your eyes open," Gerard warned him. He reached down and pushed some of Frank's curling black hair away from his face, tucking the grown-out fauxhawk behind his ear. Frank shifted and Gerard took his hand away, admiring Frank's pose. "Spread your legs...a little wider than that, Frank, really." Frank chuckled darkly and flexed his toes, nudging Gerard's ankle. "Keep your left arm at your side...other arm can go across your body - no, Frank, your hand does not go there." Frank whined in annoyance and, at Gerard's direction, splayed his hand across his own hip instead.

"Happy?" Frank huffed, glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

"Not quite," Gerard said, something occurring to him as he rose from the bed and rifled through his bag again. When he took out the thin leather collar, Frank's sharp intake of breath was obvious and expected. Gerard, unruffled, went to him and leaned down, pleased when Frank lifted his head up a little, allowing him to latch the collar around his neck. Frank made a low noise and Gerard kissed the skin just above the leather before pulling back and moving to the end of the bed, where he could see Frank in his entirety.

Frank opened his mouth like he was going to make a smartass remark, but closed it as soon as Gerard opened the sketchbook and turned to a fresh page. Frank began to take shape on the paper, a jumble of curves and harsh lines making the sketch look like a patchwork creature. Gerard fell into a kind of daze as he drew, and as he refined the messy lines and replaced them with the perfect ones that formed Frank, he formed another fantasy in his mind.

He'd wanted to go to art school...if he'd gone to art school, he would've drawn nude models eventually. He would just be in his Human Anatomy Studies class, waiting for another middle-aged model, and Frank would walk into the classroom, amid stares from everyone, including Gerard. And Frank would just smirk and strip and Gerard would draw him - just like he was doing now. And Frank would see his drawing and somehow, Frank would like it enough to say yes when Gerard asked him on a date. And then Gerard would drive him to a movie and they'd both be teasing during the whole thing, so that when Gerard finally took him home, they'd just fuck on the couch and kiss like they were dying for it. And Frank would be his boyfriend - not a wanted criminal, just his boyfriend. Gerard would take Frank to meet his parents, and he'd meet Frank's parents - nude model Frank would have parents, and he would have a good life. And Gerard would just be Gerard - not the broken, twisted version of himself that he was now.

Frank's soft sound jerked him from his stupor, and he started, making a smudgy line run from Frank's collar bone down to his stomach. The drawing stared back at him with sleepy, glittering eyes, mouth slightly open and fingers curling on his lower belly. The shape of his legs was still rough, but it was there, and his tattoos were only shadowy sketches. Gerard could fill them in later.

He closed the sketchbook and set it down on the nightstand, along with the messy charcoal and pencils. Frank appeared to be asleep, his chest rising and falling lightly. Gerard crawled over him and peered down - only to find that Frank's eyes were still partly open. Was he....was he in subspace? Gerard blinked and touched his face, and Frank only moved up into it, stretching and purring appreciatively. He closed his eyes then and Gerard murmured, "Frank? Are you alright?"

Frank tilted his head and kissed Gerard's palm, which was streaked with black from the charcoal. It made his pale skin look striped. "All good," he slurred, and Gerard stroked his hair. Frank blinked as he did so, seeming a little confused, and then relaxed again, yawning and guiding Gerard down to him for a kiss. The moonlight and the colors of the city cast across them, creating an effect not unlike stained glass.

"Did you finish the drawing?" Frank mumbled against his neck when they broke apart, Gerard still sitting almost on his chest. Gerard shook his head and Frank yawned again. "Well, if you draw me more tonight, I'll probably be asleep...heads up."

"No," Gerard sighed, "I'm pretty tired anyway."

"Show me what you have so far in the morning?" Frank asked him, carding his hands through Gerard's hair. Gerard closed his eyes. That felt so good.

"Mhm," Gerard replied, distracted, before he started to unbutton his shirt, still on top of Frank. Frank watched him languidly. Gerard tossed the fabric onto the ground and rolled off of Frank, wriggling out of his jeans and adding them to the rumpled pile that was his shirt. When he turned back onto his side, he was surprised to have Frank suddenly right there, all in his face. His eyes were heavy, but they were also eager, and Gerard was puzzled to find a tattooed hand on his chest.

"Can we?" Frank asked, licking his lips sluggishly but deliberately.

Gerard knew what he was talking about and startled back in surprise - the nervousness was back, no matter how much he tried to tamper it down. He didn't want to hurt Frank again - not like he had, anyway. Frank read his expression and shook his head, smiling tiredly. "Gerard....it's okay. Really, I promise it is. I'm fine now, and I'll tell you if anything hurts." Gerard still hesitated, and Frank whined, kissing him sloppily. His hands fumbled for the waistband of Gerard's boxers, and Gerard made a sound of dissent, pulling them down himself and kicking them away.

"Mmm," Frank moaned, rubbing his face against Gerard's shoulder and pushing closer. "C'mon, fucking fuck me already."

"I thought you were sleepy?" Gerard asked breathlessly.

"I am," he muttered, "that's the whole point."

"You want me to rim you again?" Gerard asked, remembering the last time Frank was half-awake and they had sex.

"Nooo," Frank grumbled, "I want your dick in my ass, please, Gerard."

"Jesus!" Gerard exclaimed breathily, shaking his head. "Fucking impatient."

"A fucking week, Gerard," Frank said pitifully, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes as Gerard slid off the bed to get lube.

"Tiny violins," he snapped, popping off the cap and slicking up two fingers.

"It's small violins, idiot, nobody even says - oh, god, yes," Frank gasped, bucking his hips and closing his eyes.

"On your stomach, c'mon," Gerard urged him, pulling his fingers out after Frank had adjusted.

"On my back, on my stomach, make up your mind," Frank muttered, but he complied and shoved his face against the pillow happily, lifting his ass and encouraging the slide of Gerard's hands on it. Gerard lined himself up when he was absolutely sure Frank wasn't in pain - the happy noises he made when Gerard got three fingers inside of him were proof of that.

He pushed in slowly but without pause, and they moaned in tandem when he was fully inside of Frank. Frank was breathing hard and sweating already, but there was also a laxness to his muscles as though this was calming for him. Gerard pulled out and thrust all the way back in, and Frank moaned loudly in response. Gerard flattened himself across Frank's back, their skin sticking together, and bit at the leather around Frank's neck. "You're still wearing your collar," Gerard informed him, and Frank just nodded furiously and shoved his hips back.

Gerard was startled into moving again, setting up a rhythm, and Frank was groaning and making snuffly, sleepy noises at the same time, whimpering at every hot press of Gerard's lips on his neck and around the collar; mewing at the slide of Gerard's hands up his side and eventually under his body, to his cock.

Frank cried out when Gerard finally managed to hit the right place inside of him, constantly coming into contact with it and making him shudder and beg. Gerard finally gave in and moved his fingers on Frank's belly onto the base of his cock, where it was hardest and thickest, and Frank panted, tightening his muscles purposefully. Gerard moaned into his ear and felt his climax rising in his gut - he pulled out in time to splatter Frank's ass with come, which was really more satisfying than it had any right to be.

"Gerard, oh god, oh fuck, that feels so good, please," Frank babbled as Gerard flipped him onto his back, thumb skimming over the head of his cock and the rest of his hand squeezing and shifting up and down the length of it. Frank's cock jumped in his hand and his head fell back, his eyes closed and mouth open in wordless ecstasy.

Gerard smirked at his helpless state and circled his fingers around Frank's hard-on, easing them around tighter until Frank was cursing and squirming, leaking from the tip. "Gerard, please," he gasped, his cock twitching. "Need to...I need to come, god, fuck, please let me come." His skin was almost burning against Gerard's.

"Wait," Gerard said, struck by a random but fairly brilliant idea.

"What?!" Frank said, panicked, sitting up as Gerard got off of the bed and walked away. "No, come back, what're you-"

"Calm down," Gerard said, "and don't jerk off or come before I get back, or you get another week of no sex." Frank made a wretched noise and Gerard felt a little bad about it, actually, but Frank would like what he was going to do.

He put on a robe and went out into the hall, locking the door behind him and hearing Frank's frustrated moan.

xoxoxo

Gerard came back with a cup of something, and Frank bolted upright with wild eyes, still as hard as before. Gerard wanted to give him all the orgasms in the world and then some, just for that. "Gerard," Frank said, his voice wrecked with absolute need, and Gerard nodded and shushed him.

"Close your eyes," he told him, going to the bed again and putting the things in the cup into his palm. Frank did so, wriggling uncomfortably, and Gerard made a comforting sound again before wrapping his hand and the ice cubes within them around the bulge of Frank's cock.

Frank let out a gargled scream, hands flailing and eyes wide, and Gerard could feel how the ice was already melting from the heat of his skin, dripping freezing water onto Frank's taut stomach and leaving droplets on his tattoos. "FUCK!" he shouted, thrashing and staring at Gerard in utter shock. "Cocksucking mother of god, that feels - shit, Gerard, Gerard, what," he rambled, his voice a mess. Gerard put two new ice cubes in his mouth and then swallowed Frank down, and it was probably five seconds before Frank was speaking only in disjointed vowels and coming into the confusingly cold heat of Gerard's mouth. Gerard didn't have time to spit out the ice cubes and the remnants of Frank's seed before Frank was kissing him, both of their warm tongues turning the ice back to water.

Gerard grinned when he settled next to Frank, who was still trying to catch his breath. "Worth the wait?" he asked coyly.

"How did you even...I don't..."

"Your skin was warm," Gerard shrugged. "And I saw the ice machine, earlier."

Frank snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Insane," he finally said, "you are fucking insane."

"Still sleepy?" Gerard asked, glancing over at him. He could feel the weariness in his limbs as his post-lassitude state drained away.

"More like fucked out," Frank corrected, rolling his eyes and curling into a ball, face smushed into the pillow.

Gerard laughed at him, but was asleep in two minutes flat.