Art Project

Everything became a hundred shades of awkward when Gerard's hands lingered on the end of the boxers before slipping beneath and bunching the material up. Frank made a very effeminate, undignified squeak, eyes flying open as he stared incredulously at Gerard. "What are you doing?" he asked and though his voice was carefully controlled, his heart was beating faster and faster. There was a moment of silence in which the both of them simply stared at each other, wide-eyed and motionless.

"Getting the paint on your legs," Gerard finally replied and he honestly looked a little hurt and worried and anxious, so much so that Frank grabbed his hands and placed them on his thighs again.

"Well then get back to it," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes again, trying hard to regulate every organ so he wouldn't seem so freaked out by the entire ordeal. He wasn't even freaked out at all; it was just something so strange to him, he didn't know how he could possibly respond to everything. He remained rigid as Gerard slipped his hands up again, bunching up the fabric so that every bit of painted skin was exposed but just shy of baring anything else. He was much gentler in this area, nails moving lightly over the skin, trying even harder to not pull too much even though, yeah, it did hurt and yeah, it still made Frank wince and hiss and make all these little sounds of suppressed pain every time Gerard encountered a spot that had adhered itself firmly to his thigh.

Once that was done, he had the sense to pull down the material he had ridden up, patting his friend's thighs gently, as if to signal he was done and could he please roll over? Somehow understanding the obscure signal, Frank turned over, settling himself on the couch some more, burying his face into a cushion. The process began again until Gerard was satisfied with the state of Frank's skin and Frank had somehow fallen straight to sleep on the couch, breathing a little heavy and muffled due to the cushion. With a grin, Gerard simply stared at his sleeping friend, a smile curving his lips and his hands moving in a rhythmic soothing motion over his back, keeping his fingers busy still.

After a while, a mischievous look came into his eyes and he decided that was a very good time to put that baby oil to an actual good use. He carefully maneuvered himself out from underneath Frank's legs, managing to not disrupt him from his sleep before clambering over his back, straddling his body and pinning him in place with his thighs. He slathered baby oil over his friend's already-shining back before beginning to work his hands into it, massaging his back and shoulders and loosening every little knot in his back with careful hand motions and wandering fingers. The silence around them was shattered when Frank shifted, opened his eyes a little and positively moaned. There was a moment of awkward, humiliating silence in which both of them stilled and went rigid and then Gerard was laughing and working his hands into Frank's back again and everything was soon put away and forgotten.

However, Frank wasn't quite certain it was all that right because he had just moaned and Gerard's hands were doing wonders on his back and yeah, that had to be Gerard's dick pressing into the small of his back and he couldn't help but think that that was the way he wanted to wake up every single day. "You've got fucking magical fingers," he managed to say, a little choked up because really, he had no idea what he was thinking with Gerard's warm weight pressed down on top of him. He merely chuckled, his hands swooping lower and lower, pressing down on the areas that needed attention and smoothing them away.

"I figure this way I won't owe you anything at all anymore," he said as he shifted down so he could continue working on his lower back. Frank could barely respond because yeah, Gerard's dick was pressing against his ass and fuck, he could barely think straight at all. He was trying hard to appear normal, to not shiver when Gerard pressed down on a particularly sensitive area or to do anything else inappropriate that would just give away the fact that he was enjoying the massage a hell of a lot more than he should. After a few more minutes in which Gerard had angled himself to get his legs too, he motioned Frank to turn over, something that made him utter the same mortifying yelp and bury his face in the cushion insisting that no, it was fine, he didn't need anything more; the debt was paid. However, Gerard insisted and it was with a great talking down in his own head that Frank finally rolled over and allowed him to work on the rest of his body.

The hands started at his shoulders and worked their way down to the point where Frank had to constantly think of disgusting, wrong thoughts just so he wouldn't get too excited about his massage. He thought of animals being murdered, his grandmother, his grandfather, anything at all that would ruin the moment so he wouldn't have to think of Gerard's fingers circling lower and lower on his abdomen and yeah, the fact that his crotch was directly on his, moving and shifting every single time he went for a different area on Frank's body. Honestly, did he have to move around so much? Then suddenly his hands were gone from his hips and just as the sigh of relief passed his laps, his hands were on his feet and he was tense again. "Just relax, Frankie," Gerard said, fingers working on his toes and how exactly was he supposed to relax when no matter what, all he could really think about was the warm weight above his, the fact that he hadn't gotten laid at all in much too long and how those magical fingers were removing all the stress from his muscles, no matter how rigid he became?

It was made worse when they began to creep up again, trailing up onto his thighs and slipping under his boxers and Jesus Christ, how was he not supposed to have really dirty thoughts about the entire ordeal? It didn't help matters either when Gerard pulled away with this dirty, dirty smirk on his face, patting Frank's hip lightly and informing him that he was done. With a muffled little sound, Frank rolled over again, pressing his head into the cushion and just praying that nothing would betray just how much he had really enjoyed that massage. For a long time, there was simply silence, Gerard's body still pressed atop his, periodically shifting his hips in a way that made him grind against Frank slightly, something that Frank didn't really need.

"Want something to eat?" Gerard asked after the pregnant pause, hands moving absentmindedly down over Frank's back, just trailing over his skin lightly. Frank was rendered unable to respond for a while until he mumbled a muffled "yes" and nodded his head, hands gripping the cushion tightly. When his friend returned with two plates of vegetarian meals, Frank had managed to talk himself down and was sitting on the couch, watching television blankly. They ate in silence, casting furtive glances at each other but never once mentioning them. "Enjoyed the massage?" Gerard finally asked after they had eaten and were sitting there contentedly in a sort of nice silence and fuck, how was Frank supposed to answer him: 'Yeah, I did; I nearly got a boner off of it, it was so good'? Since that obviously wasn't the proper answer, he simply made this little shrug and nod and gave a nervous little smile that Gerard completely and totally just misunderstood. He made a little "oh" sound, frowned and resolutely looked away, arms crossed over his bare chest and shoulders hunched and fuck, Frank was pretty certain that he had took it the wrong way.

"No, really; it was great," he tried to rectify, reaching out a hand to pat Gerard's shoulder but he turned away and yeah, that hurt, a lot, more than he even wanted to admit. "I mean it, Gee; stop being an idiot. It was great; I enjoyed it; don't worry about it." But he wasn't having any of that, convinced as he was that he had done a horrible job and that it had just been terrible and that he officially could never give anyone a massage ever again in his life. "Oh, come on," he groaned out, shifting on the couch and pulling Gerard in for a hug because he just really looked like he needed one at the moment. And he just hugged him and held him and whispered, "I love your massages," until Gerard could finally bring himself to look up at him and whisper a small, "Really?" and Frank smiled and nodded and hugged him a little tighter, just because.

And then everything was fine as it always became and Gerard was smiling and talking about something or other and all Frank could do was stare at him and smile and laugh in the appropriate places because his friend was so adamant about the entire topic. Frank decided that he could easily spend the rest of his life like that, sitting there on the couch with his arms loosely wrapped around his best friend, listening to him ramble on and on about whatever came to his head. Shortly after the thought formed, however, he suddenly tensed and became frightened because, shit, he was thinking about spending his life with his best male friend, holding him and listening to him and god, there was no way he could be thinking that about Gerard. And of course, because fate was obviously working against him that day, Gerard noticed how tense he had become and he had shut his stupidly pretty face and was staring at him all concerned and how could Frank possibly explain that he had just been imagining a life with his best friend?

In light of the situation, he just made up an excuse that he had thought he had seen a spider on the far wall and could Gerard please, please check it out? When his lie became a reality, however, and his friend did in fact find a small spider nestled beneath one of the portraits on the wall, Frank became a nervous wreck, shaking his head furiously and warning "do not dare get that thing near me. Just kill it, damn it." And then the spider was dead, a mangled corpse after Gerard smashed his hand down on it and he had shown Frank, he calmed down a little but was still pressed up against the far side of the couch, hugging his legs to his chest and just generally still panicking because what if there was another spider and he got pissed because his buddy got killed?

By that time, Gerard was holding him near-after, of course, wiping away the offending spider and hiding it in a napkin-and whispering that it was all okay and that there was no hoard of spiders waiting to ambush him and that it was all going to be perfectly fine. Finally, the embarrassing episode was over and Frank could smile sheepishly and thank Gerard and call him his savior and hug him tightly with a copious amount of "you're my hero" to the point where it just made him feel even more ashamed about the entire ordeal. Then, suddenly, it was ten shades of awkward again with Frank clinging to him and it was all silent abruptly and it was just so weird. Gerard was simply staring at him and they were still hugging and his gaze was flicking to his best friend's lips and then to his eyes and then to his lips and they just looked so pretty and pink and inviting and god, what he wouldn't give to kiss them.

But when he took a deep breath and leaned in slightly, Gerard pulled away with a hurried excuse of washing the dishes even though they had used plastic plates and he raced off into the kitchen without a glance back. Frank was simply left there feeling confused, with his eyes still half-closed and his lips still puckered for that kiss he never got to give and it was now made a hundred times worse, even after that stupid moan he had made during the massage. He got to his feet and started searching for Gerard and, no actually, he wasn't in the kitchen at all and Frank just got more confused by the second with every empty room he searched. Finally, though, fucking finally he found Gerard in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror and just looking generally melancholy. And of fucking course, it was Frank's job to hug him and ask him what was wrong and assure him that nothing bad had happened.

And sure, then Gerard just had to go and kiss his cheek lightly and tell him to not worry, he was fine, even though it was certain that he wasn't. Frank was just fed up by that time, what with the massage and the awkward silence and that almost-kiss. Without thinking twice about what he was doing, he growled a, "Shut up you dumb ass," and forced their lips together with bruising force without any warning at all. It wasn't romantic or fireworks-worthy. It wasn't a cheesy Hollywood kiss with the chorus of angels and the flying doves. It was awkward, sloppy, with teeth-clashing and lips hurting and hands fumbling when they couldn't even figure out where to put them. Frank pulled away with a shove and a frown that was threatening to turn into a smile, arms crossing over his chest. "Stop being so dramatic all the time," was the first thing he uttered, laughing at Gerard's surprised expression when he couldn't control himself anymore.

There wasn't any moment of clarity; there wasn't some sudden intelligibility of thought in which both of them suddenly decided they were going to live together forever or some shit like that. It wasn't some overtly-clichéd, movie-style moment where they looked into each other's eyes and fell so deep into the depths with dreamy smiles on their faces as they contemplated a future together. It was none of those things and they absolutely loved that, because it wasn't a scene out a movie: it was reality. It wasn't wishful thinking or any fantasy indulged in the dead of night. It was real, all of it: their warm lips and wet tongues and hurt mouths and grins and wandering hands. It was all real, actually real and it was amazing, even though their lips were probably bruised and their teeth were aching and they were smiling so much, it seemed their faces would just split in half, crack and splinter, but it wasn't going to happen because this was reality.

The second time was a lot more hesitant and both of them were afraid to get harmed again but the temptation was too great and the opportunity was right there. It was exploration, a careful study of each other's lips and tongue and teeth and the roof of their mouths and it just felt real nice to do something without hurry, without the rush of having to get it done soon or having to go anywhere. It was calm and gentle, with soft breaths and closed eyes because really, they just wanted to focus on the feel, memorize it and store it in their brains for as long as they possibly could. There were no cameras to capture their moment, no fans to cheer them on. It was just them, no one else, and perhaps that was what made it so different. It wasn't any performance: it was just raw emotion and they reveled in that.

Little moans and groans filled the air and they had passed the point of exploration and were now seeking out the most pleasurable way to kiss each other. It almost asphyxiated them until Frank finally had the common sense to pull away, out of precious oxygen and cursing the years of cigarette smoking that had caused his shortness of breath. And then they just stared at each other a little awkwardly because, fuck, this really wasn't like the movies and them getting together wasn't going to just be the culmination of a period of longing; it wasn't going to be the happy ending to it all. It could just completely screw with everything they'd built so far: with their friendship, with the band, with their family and friends. It could just destroy it all in one fell swoop but then again, the contact of their skin touching and the moments they spent together seemed to be worth much more than the destruction of all that, even if it was all their lives were built on.

With that in mind, there was little hesitation when they looked at each other once again and decided that fuck it, they were going to bask in it for as long as they could. Even it destroyed their entire lives, they weren't going to suddenly stop and pretend none of that had just happened. If they did, that would mean a lifetime of what-ifs and neither of them wanted that. Fuck the consequences; the contact was too good to give up after just having found it. Frank leaned in first, hands still gripping the strands of ink-black hair he could grasp between his fingers, using the hold as leverage so he could pull down Gerard and properly kiss him for the third time. There was nothing involved in any of it: no drugs, no alcohol, and no adrenaline. It was pure, innocent and that was what made it absolutely beautiful.

Their hands were groping each other, trying to reach every square inch of skin they hadn't yet had the privilege to touch. There was no waiting, no delay, no hesitation. They had waited far too long for this kind of contact and god damn it, they were not going to simply not take advantage of the situation. Gerard was the first to take the initiative, scrambling to get out of the bathroom and making sure that Frank came along with him. He was out of air, gasping, but his hands were still roaming, keeping his best friend pressed up close to him as he tried to continue kissing him despite the lack of oxygen. Frank couldn't think straight at all, not with Gerard's hands slipping just under the waistband of his boxers and with his warm body grinding against him and those pretty, inviting lips attached to his. He couldn't form any coherent thought as he was forcibly maneuvered throughout the house, to where, he didn't know.

And then suddenly he was pressed down against a bed and Gerard's body was pressing down atop his and he couldn't speak at all, not with his lips currently busy and wandering hands slipping down into his boxers, into the territory that had been left unexplored. He was panting, thrusting desperately into the hand pressed down over him, his own hands busy trying to find purchase on any surface he could find. And then suddenly he reversed the roles and Gerard was the one pressed beneath him, all rosy cheeks and open mouth and damp black hair and sweaty forehead. Frank wanted nothing more than to just fuck him right then and there into the bed, to hear him moan and to see his face when he climaxed with those pretty pink lips and stupid small teeth. He was greedy and he wanted it all and he wasted no time in asking if he could please, please do so. There was no hesitation as Gerard immediately nodded and brought Frank down to kiss him and grind against him and fuck, it was just a sensory overload.

All of a sudden, they were naked, just there and feeling so self-conscious it wasn't even funny. They were just exchanging these shy little glances, fingers moving tenderly, slowly, against each other's skin, just soaking it all in, kind of hunching in towards themselves because fuck, this was a hell of a lot more awkward than they made it out to be in the movies. And then a scene unfolded in which they joined together and it wasn't some magical moment at all; it had a lot of fumbling and curses and awkward moments like when the bottle of lube just fell to the floor and those kind of moans you never mean to utter but that end up sounding way too loudly anyway. The bed sheets stuck to their skin and their hair fell into their eyes periodically, obscuring their view of each other and the bed was creaking obscenely and there were way too many apologies in there for sex. It culminated way too quickly and there were more frantic apologies even as they settled beside each other, sweat still glistening on their tired bodies, aches forming in their muscles from their movements.

They were satisfied, though, both of them sighing softly and huddling close because the contact was much nicer than the cold air breathing over them. Gerard was the first to break the silence, all nervous again as he rambled on and on about something or other, without any real aim, just talking. Frank didn't even try to silence him, allowing him to talk out his anxiety, trying to work the sheets out from under them as Gerard didn't even try to cooperate. There were more awkward moments until the sheets were finally over their waists and Gerard's words just kind of faded out and there was an awkward silence hanging over them again. At least that didn't last much as they turned to each other and began to drift off to sleep, feeling sticky and all-around unpleasant but feeling way to tired to even try to get up from the soiled bed.

Things would be really awkward in the morning, Frank was sure of it. He was sure that there was going to be a lot of weird silences and abrupt conversations and nervous giggles and a scramble to fetch their clothes and get clean. He knew they were going to have to face the rest of the band and own up to what they had done and what they were planning to do. He knew all that but before he could even worry about it, he just wanted to revel in the fact that Gerard had asked him to help him out in that art project of his. If he hadn't there wouldn't be an awkward morning, that was for sure, but if he hadn't there wouldn't be this post-orgasmic bliss either and he figured that hey, art was worth suffering for, right?