Anorex-a-Gogo

Your eyes sweep over my body. You look at me, and you see who I am. You see a thin boy. You see the sheen of sweat on his forehead. You see the lust glazing over his half-lidded eyes.

You see a boy who's so consumed by the flames of another boy's kiss that he isn't even aware that at least an hour has passed.

But you don't see a damaged boy. He looks just fine to you. Maybe a little bit ragged. Sure, he's been through a lot. But you don't see a broken boy. You see someone who's complete. So thoroughly complete.

For the past hour I've been thinking, this is it. Holy ravioli, this is it. But Gerard is kissing, only kissing. I've been thinking, fuck the rules. It's Tuesday, Christmas is only two days away. This could be an early present to myself. Santa Claus couldn't do it any better than Gerard.

But each time my hands drift a little too far downwards, Gerard guides them back up to his shoulders without so much as breaking the kiss. One of his hands rests on the bandage on my left side, gently protecting the wound. His other hand is curled almost possessively around the back of my neck, his thumb applying the slightest pressure and driving me crazy.

I turn my head as his lips move off of my own, seeking out my collar bone. My breath comes in deep and ragged, far away and underwater. My hands, they seek out the contours of his back. My eyes, they shudder closed.

"Gee," I breath, nudging him with my knee.

He lifts his head slightly, his eyes dragging up to meet mine. I whimper, silently pleading with him. Something like hesitation flashes through his eyes, then fades out like an ocean pulling back waves. He bites his lip, his eyes darting around. He's fighting something inside, a battle of morals against desire. Who would have ever guessed that Gerard Way had integrity?

Thank Karma he's not listening to morality right now.

Slowly, so slowly, the hand that was resting on my side begins to slide South. Down over my belly button. Across my hip bones. Fingers following the waistline of my jeans.

And this is it.

Fire explodes in my stomach and quickly catches, spreading through my every limb. Like I might just burn up and float off into the atmosphere. Like everything is detached, but I can still feel him. Gerard is everywhere as his fingers fumble with the button of my jeans, having lost my shirt somewhere between when he first kissed me over an hour ago and the time he straddled me. He is in the air. I breath him in and he swims around in my lungs, drowning me. He is in the fistfuls of hair I grab as his thumbs hook inside my jeans and begin to drag downwards. His breath is music in my ears as it becomes a little more labored with anticipation.

I realize that Gerard is undressing me. It seems so unbearably romantic that I simply want to bury myself inside of him so that I never have to lose this feeling again. It clogs my every pore, this overwhelmingly seductive moment. The unrealistic tenderness of it all leaves me breathless for a second.

And then his warm palm slides up my thigh, leaving me breathless for a whole other reason.

With each touch comes a new realization. Like some sort of hormone-induced orgasmic epiphany.

His fingers trace the inside of my thigh, the nearly-healed scabs.

I want him inside of me.

His lips press to the back of my knee.

This is what I've been waiting for all my life.

His hair tickles my chest as he kisses the spot just under my belly button.

I'm about to come alive.

His hot breath sends chills racing across my skin.

I don't just want him...

His face is framed by smooth golden light pouring in through the window. The last of the sunset before night takes us. It's...poetic.

...I simply need him.

And then I'm naked and he's still fully clothed and his body creates a shadow over mine. My face automatically blushes as I lay, already panting with anticipation, across my bed.

A small smile creeps across his face like a nightlight. It's my safeguard as the last of the light disappears behind the hazy Jersey skyline, but the night is no longer ominous. It is a mystery that I am finally ready to unveil, a secret that can no longer hurt me. Gerard is darkness, and I welcome him with a kiss.

"I will miss your pretty face," he whispers, lips fluttering across my heated face. He silently watches me, memorizing. Committing my vulnerability and helpless desire to memory. I subconsciously do the same.

The only thing I don't do is question his words. They mean almost nothing to me next to the expression on his face. The almost possessive glee, softened and toned-down by his smile. Words don't mean anything when he stares at me like that.

He carefully pulls me off of the bed and backs me up to the wall. I inhale sharply as his hands slide down to my hips, barely brushing the tip of my dick. His remedy is to simply smash his clothed body into mine, every curve molding perfectly with mine through shirt and pants as our lips collide again in a mash of teeth and tongues.

"Undress me," he softly commands. My eyes go wide and I begin my characteristic stammer, although no words are actually coming out of my mouth. He takes my hands in his and then presses one of mine to his crotch, the other to his heart. "I am yours, Frankie. All yours."

So I make him take a step back and then I slide my hands up under his shirt, slowly dragging it over his head. I figure that this may be the one time that he has the patience to let me take my time, so I'm going to take advantage of the moment. The worn tee-shirt drops to the floor like silk between us. I allow my fingers to map out his pale chest in almost absurd fascination. This is not the first time I've touched his skin. Not even the first time I've seen him half-naked. But now I'm seeing it in a different light because with each touch I find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him. I'm too far beneath the surface now to ever break away again, but I don't give a fuck.

Gerard has the patience of a saint. He simply stands still as a statue as I smooth my hands over his back, his stomach, the dark trail of hair that leads down into the waistline of his torn jeans. "You're beautiful to watch when you're concentrating," he tells me.

It's only when I move on to his jeans that his demeanor changes. I can feel his muscles quivering underneath his skin that burns, the only sign that he's at all having a hard time with this. For some reason this makes me swell up with pride that I can make such an amazing human feel so uncontrolled.

Instead of taking off his boxers, I press my naked body to his. I can feel his muscles tensing as his hands almost automatically curl around my waist. My lips press to his shoulder without me even thinking about it. My body's put my brain on the back-burner and has offered up any control I've ever had. My embarrassment is out the window, and all that is left is Frankie, raw and real.

He has a beautiful taste. Salty-sweet from the sweat and essence that exists solely on his skin and his skin alone. I taste him, sliding my lips across his chest, his collar bone, his neck.

Gerard shudders. "Tease," he manages, but he simply leans his head back a little to allow me access to the soft spot under his earlobe.

Here is the difference between fucking and making love. We're not just going to join bodies, we're going to trade hearts.

Two boys stand in the middle of a darkening room, one naked and more daring than he's ever been before, the other practicing the give part of their give-and-take relationship. Two hearts dance, steering their owners through something so beautiful it could break a heart.

It could simply break a heart.

A moan breaks through the silence that is thick with lust. I don't even know who it came from, my mouth or his, but it sort of brings everything back to a more realistic light. This is actually happening. Our hearts are out on the line and this is it.

"We can't have sex," Gerard whispers to me through a series of deep breaths. "Doctors orders, Frank."

I almost cry out in protest. My desperation makes itself known in the form of a low groan that leaks from the back of my throat. "Gerard," I beg, pulling my skin closer to his, as if to tempt him.

His smile is teasing, almost innocent. "No sex," he reminds me with a wag of his finger, as if I could have possibly forgotten in the last six seconds. "Don't you want to heal?"

"No," I cry, my chest heaving. What a fucking tease.

"What if I hurt you? If I fuck you, you'll probably go straight to Hell."

"I've been to Heaven already, it's not that nice." Oh Jeez, and now he's looking at me like maybe I'm not getting enough oxygen. "Hell can't be much worse. Now kiss me please."

His grin is distorted, half in amusement and half in worry. "I'm not sure I really want to corrupt you, Pansy."

I snort. "Yeah, right. You'd love to corrupt me. You are Gerard Way, right?"

He laughs, but he looks upset at the same time. Like maybe there was a little too much truth to my joke.

"Kidding, Gee. But seriously, I'm all for being corrupted," I say, raising my eyebrows at him.

"But if we have sex now, there won't be any more suspense."

Damn, now how am I supposed to reply to that?

Gerard sighs. "I'm just afraid I'll hurt you," he murmurs, brushing his fingers across my cheek. "I'll scare you."

I'm wondering it this is his way of telling me that he's really kinky and freaky in bed. But then I think about it, his fear of hurting me. And I am scared. Because for so long I have been numb. Who's to say I'll feel anything at all? For so long I felt nothing as Owen was inside of me, no pain or pleasure. Just cool numb, like he wasn't even there. What if it's not as simple as not feeling? What if it's that I can't feel? What if Gerard tries, and I still feel nothing? That would destroy us.

I realize that his eyes are darting back and forth from mine, searching for my reaction. I give him a sort of half grin that comes out all wrong. "I love you," I say, because it just seems like the right thing to say.

His hazel eyes go soft, crinkling at the edges as he grins my favorite crooked smile. "We still can't have sex," he says, "Your side isn't even close to being healed yet."

I pout as he then puts his hands on my shoulders and begins pushing me backwards to the bed, where I assume we'll kiss a little more and then watch television or something. I sit on the bed, frowning up at his sly-grinning face. "But you can't just--Oh fuck." My eyes nearly rip out of their sockets as his warm hand wraps around my cock. Insane pressure like nothing I've ever felt, and nothing I've ever wanted to stop feeling.

"Shh," he breathes as he wraps his thighs around my hips once again, pushing my shoulders back until the back of my head hits the pillows. "Is the door locked?"

I can barely keep my eyes focused, let alone understand the words spilling from his mouth. Still, I nod, pressing my cheek into my pillow. Oh Lord, I can feel that. There's this raw energy pulsating below my hips, gathering strength as his hand slides up and down. Fucking teasing me, testing me.

Keep your head on straight, I tell myself, then cringe at what my sub-conscience is implying.

I wish I could see his face. Oh, how I wish I could watch his expression above me. But my eyes are glued shut, watching the nauseating swirl of colors behind my eyelids. It's all fire, beautiful fire.

"Oh, Jeez," I gasp, my face screwing up as his fingers expertly glide up and down. Mass convulsions build up behind my skin and organs, roaring and boiling and ready to rip lose. I can only imagine myself, squirming around, my fingers wildly grasping at the sheets on my bed.

I nearly scream at him when he lets go, only to find the scream stuck in my throat as his mouth closes around me instead.

Murder murder intense pornado of pressure rising up in my blood Slick wet saliva tongue Trick of the mind Slip of the tongue Burning sensation moonlight twist High as a kit and just as Free when you Lay me down Kiss me Raw and fuck me tender Just. Don't. Let. Go.

My mind makes no sense at all with my thoughts all jumbled and mixed together like puzzle pieces in a box. I can't even begin to piece them together. All I can concentrate on is the wonderful swirl of his tongue and the heat of his mouth and the fistfuls of his hair between my fingers. My hips involuntarily buck upwards as the pounding pressure begins to build in me. Rising like lava and hot enough to scald.

"Gee....Gee.." I want to warn him but I'm too scattered to even form letters into words and words into sentences that would make sense. Buzzed on an electrical current that sends out shock-waves of pleasure and desire to every limb. I pull on his hair a little harder, but Karma knows I'm selfish. I feel like I'm leaking, a broken faucet dripping, but then there's this earthquake that shatters my insides like glass and I fucking explode. My hips jerk upwards and I can't even try to hold back the immense groan as all of the pressure releases in this fucking huge wave. My eyes slam shut as I find myself riding aftershock after aftershock of dizzying perfection like waves crashing on my insides. Beautiful warmth floods every nerve, lighting me up like a match.

My head feels heavy like lead, my limbs limp, and everything just a little foggy around the edges. My chest heaves as I clutch onto the bedspread, feeling warm and beautiful and content.

You gotta fucking love Karma.

I don't think either of us expected the door to slide open. Of course we didn't, I'm pretty sure I told him it was locked. Although, it's only now that I'm realizing that that was his question...

"Sweet Jesus," my mother gasps, covering her eyes with her hands. I bet she got a nice, Kama Sutra view of Gerard's mouth attached to my cock.

"Ma!" I cry, scrambling to shove him off of me and simultaneously pull my sheets up over my suddenly very naked and Gerard-less lower half.

The bottle she was carrying drops to the floor, scattering the painkillers I'm supposed to take every six hours across my carpet. "I...oh my God," she stammers.

Gerard, calm as hell, stands up in his rumpled boxers. He swallows, Oh Jesus, he swallows, and then he walks straight up to my mother. He bends over to pick up the twelve or so white pills on the floor, keeping two in the palm of his hand. "Could you please give us some privacy, Linda?" he asks, ever-so politely, "I'll make sure he takes these."

Mom glances, horror-struck, between Gerard and I. Like she wants to rub her eyes just to see if she really saw what she saw. Then she just mumbles, "I'm sorry," and she walks back down the hall.

Gerard shuts the door and slides the lock until it clicks, then saunters back over to the bed where I think my heart has just about stopped beating. "Take these," he tells me, climbing under the covers and digging through my nightstand drawer. He comes up with a remote, which he uses to flip on the television. Then he pulls a cigarette out of the box that fell out of his jeans, and being the romantic fuck he is, he lights it up and blows smoke out toward the ceiling where I think he's hoping it'll go out the window.

I hold the pills in my hand, wishing they were poison. I'm still panting and burning and sweating and convulsing, and he's so fucking indifferent. I think I died a little inside when that door opened, revealing my mother's horrified face. Hell, I didn't even hear the knock.

"How can you just sit there and...and watch television?" I ask in disbelief. "My mother just saw you sucking me off. Fuck, Karma's going to murder me for this."

He gives me this look like, what the fuck am I talking about? "Calm the fuck down, sugar," Gerard tells me in this rich, dark purr that makes me instantly want to calm the fuck down. He leans over and kisses my mouth with lips that are much more magical than I'd originally thought, and I can taste myself mixed with nicotine. His hand settles on my abdomen, fingers splayed out almost protectively on my stomach, and his eyes stray back to the television.

"Fucking spaz," he mutters.