You Can't Stop It Screaming Out

Technically no one can really prove that it was Frank who dug a hole in their backyard. No one actually saw him doing said digging, so it’s absolutely plausible that it was a fox, or a dog or something. You can’t prove it was him, so he’s basically in the clear.

Another thing they can’t prove is that Frank put sugar on the sides of their house. Maybe the ants are just really attracted to Mrs. Sinclair’s perfume. There’s no way for you to effectively blame Frank for any ants that may have crawled in through the nooks and crannies. That’s just faulty insulation.

He’ll own up to the loud sex at all hours of the day. That’s all on Frank, he’ll take the responsibility for that one. Well, he’s going to share the blame with Gerard, but he isn’t going to deny that one. Partly because no human in their right mind would ever deny having a boyfriend as attractive as Gerard, and also when the noises are distinctly coming from your bedroom window, there’s nowhere to hide.

The fact of the matter is, if the Sinclair’s file a harassment case, Frank can just as easily file a no trespassing order. It’s more fun to piss them off though. If it ultimately comes down to it, he will do that, but seeing as he’s finally fighting back, he’s in no rush. Frank fights dirty, and that’s what’ll get to the Sinclair’s.

Both parties no who’s responsible, but they both know that both parties are equally as annoying.

In actuality, Gerard helped dig the hole. Apparently it would’ve taken Frank too long on his own, and they might have woken up the neighbors. Frank didn’t say no, because he kind of wanted to see how dirty he could get Gerard so that they’d be forced to shower. Let the record show that it took the amount of time also referred to as ‘the water turned to polar temperature,’ though some of that time can be accounted to the shower sex. Subtlety is for morons. Frank fucked Gerard in the shower. Deal with it.

It’s not like they can’t keep their hands off each other or anything, but, well actually no, they can’t keep their hands off each other. It is neither Frank’s nor Gerard’s fault that they both find each other insatiably attractive.

Frank’s kind of a small guy. He’s short, and he’s been called midget enough times in his life to know it. Usually it’s not meant as an insult, but you get asked to sing the lollipop guild song enough, and it starts to really get on your nerves. He may be small but he’s got one hell of a right hook. Piss him off and you’ll get to be well acquainted with his painfully hard knuckles.

The most painful thing about getting punched out by Frank is the ring on his finger. No, it’s not a wedding ring, nor even an engagement ring. Frank might be a recovering sex enthusiast, but he’s not that rehabilitated. Yet. It’s just a promise ring, but that’s more than he ever thought he’d have with anyone. Honestly, if you’d have asked the Frank of ten years ago he’d have had you committed. The only thing he’s ever had an unholy passion for is the game show network.

That was until this stupid fucking vibrant redhead entered his life.

He has, as one would guess by the description, vibrant red hair, and oh boy does it suit him. Though honestly, he could wear a garbage bag tunic with a colander on his head and Frank would still think of Gerard Way as being synonymous with Adonis.

Frank loves him too much, and he knows that. It’s all been kind of a whirlwind for him. He’d never intended to fall in love with the guy, he’d never intended to do anything with the guy. He’s glad he did, but it went against every single one of his principles. It’s not that Frank has a problem with monogamy, that’s not even kind of it at all, he’s just never been in a relationship. He’s never been in a monogamous, polyamorous or fucking tyrannosaurus relationship. That last one isn’t actually a thing, but Frank wants people to think he’s manly sometimes. He’s not really, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try to get you to think it.

The point is that Frank had never been in a relationship. When he met Gerard he died a little bit inside, because he’s, like, perfect.

He’s not, but Frank thinks so.

The thing that sold him on Gerard was most definitely when he answered the door that one time. That made Frank’s whole body convulse with pure admiration. He’d never known what it was like to be in love, but Gerard explained it to him in that moment.

Love is opening the door to tell nosy neighbors to fuck off.

Love is giving up your expensive guitar because of a vibrant redhead.

Frank loves Gerard, and he’s okay with that.

“Frank!” Gerard screams, closing the front door, and peeking into the living room.

Frank is in the kitchen, trying to put away the groceries, and he answers back, in a quieter voice, “what?”

“Oh, you’re in here,” Gerard says, stepping into the room, “I thought you were upstairs.”

“Well now you know that I’m not,” Frank answers.

“Very true,” Gerard says, and he shuffles a pile of letters in his hand, sorting through them with a lazy expression. “Guess what we got in the mail today?”

Frank’s heart stutters a bit, because yeah, he said ‘we.’ Their mail. Not Frank’s mail. Their mail. Having a live-in boyfriend can make the world a very bright place.

“Um, a watermelon?”

“No, guess again,” Gerard says, smiling at him.

“A dog?”

“Don’t you think there’s enough of those in here, you don’t need a mail order puppy,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes.

“You’re right, the flat rate for that would be totally unreasonable.”

“Because it’s totally legal to ship animals through UPS,” Gerard replies sarcastically.

“Oh shut up, what did we get?”

“We got a wedding invitation,” Gerard says, holding up the small beige envelope.

“But I already knew that was coming!” Frank says, moping because he’d hoped it would be something at least a little more exciting.

“You’re best friend sends you a wedding invitation and all you can think is ‘but I already knew about it’?”

“Well I did. I was the first one he fucking called!” Frank says, snatching the envelope from Gerard, and tearing the side off.

“But invitations are pretty,” Gerard says, leaning over the counter to try to look at it in Frank’s hand.

“Knowing Brendon, I’m surprised he didn’t use comic sans or clipart for this thing,” Frank says, looking at the flimsy paper critically.

“Knowing Ryan, I’m not surprised he talked Brendon out of doing exactly that,” Gerard replies.

Frank shrugs, “true, I guess, but really, wouldn’t it have been great if it was just construction paper with a really badly photo shopped picture of the Royal Wedding with Ryan’s face on Prince William, and Brendon’s face on Kate Middleton?”

“Oh god, you’re the strangest person I know,” Gerard shakes his head absently.

“But that’s what makes me so fantastic!”

“Remind me again why I agreed to move in with you?” Gerard teases.

“Because you have a really intimate connection to my next door neighbors,” Frank replies.

“I actually like them to be honest. I mean that in a, ‘fucking hell they’re the worst people I know’ way, but if you follow the train of events, it’s because of them that we’re together.”

“And also because of them I fucked you on a lawn chair,” Frank says offhandedly as he looks over the invitation again.

“That too. No, but seriously. If it hadn’t been for them you’d have never complained to Brendon, and if you’d never complained to Brendon then you wouldn’t have made that bet, and you wouldn’t have found me. I’m charming as hell, so obviously you’d fall in love with me.”

Frank grins, throwing the invitation back on the counter. He walks around the kitchen island to where Gerard is, and wraps his arms around the taller man. It’s not saying much that he’s taller. The only grown man that Frank is taller than is Prince or The Artist Formally Known As.

Gerard’s used to it though, used to Frank getting on his tip toes and kissing him at any and every hour of the day. One time he was trying to cook dinner and Frank started making out with him. They ended up completely burning dinner. It was worth it.

It’s like he has a checklist for making out with Gerard at least once for every minute of the day, and he’s slowly winding his way down. He really does mean every minute. Frank is a determined little bastard.

Gerard’s also fairly certain that he has a checklist for having sex in every room of the house. Closets count as rooms.

The doorbell rings just after Frank gets his tongue in Gerard’s mouth, and he makes an inhuman sound.

“I’m going to fuck them up,” Gerard says.

“You’d do that for me?” Frank asks mockingly.

“I’d do it for both of us,” Gerard says, “because of you, they’re my neighbors too.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

“I like everything but them,” Gerard clarifies, pulling himself up straight. He looks down at Frank sadly, because he doesn’t want to go answer the door.

“You know, we could always give them a show,” Frank says.

“A show?”

“Well yeah, it’s a nice day out so I drew the curtains in the living room earlier,” Frank states, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Oh you did now?” Gerard asks, trying not to laugh at how adorable and stupid Frank looks when he does that thing with his eyes. “Did you crack a window?”

“I did indeed,” Frank answers.

“Excellent.”

Before he met Frank, Gerard was a lot more vanilla than he is now. Frank has a way of bringing out the kinky side of him that he didn’t even know he had.

“What do you say?”

“I say hell yeah,” Gerard replies, and he pulls Frank’s arm. Gerard’s the one who drags Frank into the living room, not the other way around, and Frank can’t complain.

“The scene starts on a pleasant spring day with a gorgeous as fuck guy with his mediocre looking boyfriend,” Gerard says grinning, “The boyfriend, I like to call Frankie.”

“Hey!”

“Opening number is the sound of Frankie with a tongue in his mouth,” Gerard says, and like that he’s got his mouth on Frank’s.

Frank doesn’t have time to look at the window to see if the Sinclair’s have moved to looking in yet, but he’s sure they will soon if they haven’t already. They’re pretty awful that way. The record time for how long they’ve knocked on the door was almost forty five minutes, and Frank’s pretty sure that it gave them bruises on their knuckles. That was a long time ago, but it still happens occasionally.

They both instinctively close their eyes as the kiss deepens, and Frank tries to take in the way Gerard smells, and tastes. He’s always got this amazing smell on him like the combination of acrylic paints, coffee, and girly shampoo. He uses girly shampoo because “it works better for dyed hair,” but Frank knows that he just likes smelling like flowers.

Frank hears a tapping on the window, and flutters one eye open to see Mr. Sinclair drumming against his window. He’s trying to look anywhere but at the two boys making out in Frank’s living room, but Frank can tell it’s hard to miss.

They’re standing in front of the couch, with their sides turned to the window. Frank closes his eyes and grabs Gerard’s head, forcing him to kiss harder. It’s rather sloppy, but neither of them really minds it all that much.

“Shirt,” Gerard grumbles into Frank’s mouth. Frank raises both his arms like a kid in grade school who knows the answer to a question. Gerard snorts at him when he pulls away vaguely, but he reaches to the hem of Frank’s shirt, and pulls it over the man’s head. He tosses it at the floor, and places his hands on Frank’s hips, nearly inside his back pockets.

Gerard’s shirt comes next so that they don’t have to worry about pulling apart again for clothing purposes. Frank runs his hand all down Gerard’s chest, loving the softness of the others skin, and the way he can feel goose bumps erupting along his body. Gerard always gets goose bumps when Frank kisses him. He can’t help it. Frank fucking loves it.

Gerard not-so-gracefully pushes Frank back onto the couch behind him, and then climbs on top of him in a straddle position.

“You know it’s technically illegal... fuck,” Frank starts when Gerard attacks his neck, “to have sex with your windows open when someone might be watching, because it’s considered public.”

“No judge in the world would fine me. They’d give me a high-five for snagging such a gorgeous boyfriend. Plus the director loves it when his two lovers make a tangible and realistic connection.”

“You sure about that?” Frank giggles, allowing Gerard to unzip the front of his pants which are becoming a major hassle.

“Absolutely,” Gerard grins at him, “we’re going to get great reviews. We need to do something about the wardrobe though.”

He shoves Frank’s pants down around his thighs, but he goes back to kissing Frank before the underwear comes off. Frank’s eyes close instinctively to boost the sensation of his other senses, and he forgets all about the neighbors at the window for a long moment.

His hands fumble at the clasp of Gerard’s jeans, and he’s trying to remember how to undo the fucking pants, but his mind is racing. Gerard has a mind-numbing tongue, always making him forget everything. He’s always forgetting things when Gerard is kissing him. He forgot the plot to The Great Gatsby once. That was an experience. He had to look it up on Wikipedia to remember the book he’d spent two months in ninth grade on. Once again, it was totally worth it.

“Oh fuck,” Frank says when Gerard rubs down on Frank’s crotch. Even through his unfortunately still present jeans it sends Frank wild.

“They still there?” Gerard asks referring to the Sinclair’s, nibbling at Frank’s earlobe.

“Fuck them, I don’t care,” Frank replies. He’s trying to, once again, get Gerard’s pants off, but he’s really not very good at it right now. His brain is all muddled from the wedding invitation, and the groceries he left on the counter, and that time when Gerard fucked him into the mattress. That was only last night, but it’s still on the brain.

Unlike every single one of Frank’s other sexual partners, Gerard is memorable. For one thing, he’s one of the only guys Frank’s slept with more than once, and for another, he’s fantastic. Maybe Frank only thinks that because he’s in love with the guy, but he does really put those other guys to shame. Except Brad. Yeah, Brad was good. Gerard is better.

Evidently the Sinclair’s are still there, because Frank hears the words, “we know you’re home and would much appreciate it if you didn’t do that right now.”

Frank only barely hears them though because of the blood rushing in his ears. Eventually Gerard gives up on Frank’s pants-undoing-ability and gets it himself. Not that hard, but Frank’s an idiot sometimes.

He gets the zipper down, and then supports himself over Frank with a hand on the back of the couch to actually pull the garment off. Frank looks up to him, a light shade of red from the heat of Gerard’s body pressed against him. Or maybe it’s just the way Gerard looks at him that sends the scarlet to his cheeks.

Gerard looks at him like he’s the answer to the universe, or like he’s seeing the most beautiful painting in the world. Frank is blown away by how Gerard looks at him. Doesn’t believe it almost.

He gets the pants off, and then returns to his position on top of Frank. He kisses him much more aggressively, like he’s run out of air and Frank is his only source. Frank kisses back, wishing only that he could put into words the way he feels when Gerard is so close to him.

“Excuse me,” a tap at the window followed by Mrs. Sinclair saying, “would you stop, uh, that?”

“Lay it on heavier, Gerard,” Frank says. If they’re going to put on a show, they’re going to put on a show. This is going to be the show-stopping number that they’re never going to forget.

Now, if it were anyone but Gerard, Frank might play up the moans and what not for dramatic effect, but given that it is Gerard, he doesn’t need to. He’s already embarrassingly loud as it is, so there’s really no way he can get louder. Maybe a microphone, but that’s really impractical with the giant fucking boner tented in his boxers.

Gerard makes Frank swear into his jaw when he gets a hand in Frank’s underwear. Frank feels like passing the fuck out, because Gerard is sending him spinning into ecstasy.

“You’re so easy,” Gerard giggles against Frank’s gaping mouth, which is trying to splutter up some assortment of syllables. He’s forgotten what vowels and what consonants are though.

Frank feels Gerard’s hand on his face, warm and kind of sweaty, forcing him into a kiss that he wouldn’t have said no to in the first place. He feels Gerard’s other hand wrapped around his cock, and it’s making his knowledge of another literary classic fall into oblivion. One of these days Frank is going to completely lose every classic novel to Gerard’s fucking tongue, and he’s not even going to care.

“Please, we’d like to have a few words with you!” Mr. Sinclair says.

“The crowd has such a poignant reaction, and the show has barely begun,” Gerard says.

“Fuck!” Frank calls when Gerard starts tonguing his collar bone, and then further down his chest. Frank’s trying to reason with himself that he’s not into exhibitionism, but right now he wants to fucking show the Sinclair’s what love is. He wants to be a porn star, owning the stage, and this is his time to shine. He wants to permanently scar them with his gay fucking, and he doesn’t care. He’s not modest, Gerard is hot and has absolutely no reason to be shy either, so he’s totally turned on by it all.

Were it anyone but the Sinclair’s he’d consider drawing the curtains, or going upstairs, but this performance is dedicated to them specifically.

“You sure about this?” Gerard asks, and Frank becomes aware of the fact that he’s on his knees on the floor between Frank’s legs. He’s right there, with his hands playing at the hem of Frank’s boxers, and he’s looking at Frank with those gorgeous hazel eyes that are probably made from the essence of stars. The pillarbox hair which is all messy and forgotten framing his face, is making a strict contrast to his sea-foam skin, and his dark, nearly triangular eyebrows.

Frank bites his lip, spares a glance at the window, where he sees Mrs. Sinclair giving him the snake eye with her hand over Mr. Sinclair’s eyes.

“Fuck yeah.”

Gerard grins at him, and then slowly pulls Frank’s boxers down. He has to lift his hips up off the couch to help Gerard out, but they’re gone in a matter of seconds. Frank peers over at the window, sees Mrs. Sinclair horrorstruck, and winks.

“You’re loving this,” Gerard snickers, and Frank is about to respond before he forgets how.

See, Gerard may not have been with a lot of guys, but he learned quite a bit from the ones he was with. Basically, the guy can give head.

“I-” Frank starts, but then he moans into the air, and his toes curl together. His body is placed precariously on the couch, with his feet placed on the cold hardwood floor. He pulls his legs together slightly and feels Gerard’s body between them.

All he feels is Gerard. He feels Gerard’s hand on his thigh, and he feels his other hand tracing circles over the ink on his stomach. Mostly he feels Gerard’s mouth. It’s cliché and outdated to say that Gerard’s mouth is warm and wet, but really, what the fuck else would it be? It is warm. It is wet. His tongue is majestic, and illegal in twelve countries.

“Is that entirely necessary?” Mrs. Sinclair squeaks, and Gerard laughs. Frank is pretty sure he’s never had an experience quite like the one of having someone giggle on his dick whilst giving a blowjob, but he’s fairly sure that it’s one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Move over Great Pyramid of Giza, Frank’s found a replacement, and it is ten times more exhilarating. Also there’s less sand. No one likes sand. Sand, fuck off mate. You know what people do like though? Gerard fucking Way’s fucking mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Frank manages to enunciate, before his head falls against the couch, when Gerard’s hand goes to hold the base of his cock. Frank is losing his mind, he’s going to scream if Gerard gets any better at this.

Frank’s fairly sure that there’s no step above perfection. If there is though, Gerard will surely find it, and he will make the word perfection feel bad about itself.

“You’re gonna have to stop if you wanna make it to act two,” Frank says, incredulous.

Gerard pulls off Frank’s cock, with that cheeky grin of his that has given many a fairy their wings. Frank fucking believes in those fairies right now. Gerard does J.M. Barrie proud. He’s got pixie dust just in his eyes and smile alone.

There’s a trail of spit connecting Gerard’s mouth to Frank’s dick, and his stomach does a summersault because that might be the dirtiest and most fucking gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

“Alright, we’re leaving now,” Mrs. Sinclair says meagerly, and Frank snorts. He watches lazily as the two of them make their departure and then turns to look at Gerard who’s climbing back onto the couch. He’s forcing Frank to fall down against the armrest, until he’s completely lying down with Gerard on top of him. Frank is angry with the fact that Gerard still has underwear, because he wants them off, like, ten minutes ago.

“Well now that they’re gone...?” Gerard starts.

“Hey,” Frank stops him, “the show must go on.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more if I tried,” Gerard says and kisses Frank furiously again. Frank doesn’t get in a breath before his lips are being attacked, and he tries to get enough air in through his nose, which causes him to smell that amazing Gerard smell. He decides he’s not going to get enough air so he just relaxes into the back of the couch and goes with it. Gerard is a relentless kisser, so there’s no chance he’ll be getting any oxygen for at least another minute.

Frank pushes him away, firmly though begrudgingly, “I am small, and cute, and I also need to fucking breathe.”

“You’re an idiot,” Gerard rolls his eyes.

“Are you going to let me fuck you or what?” Frank asks, getting his hands around Gerard’s hips.

“Pushy,” Gerard says mockingly. Frank bats his eyelashes, then gets a hand on Gerard’s shoulders and pushes him up further. It only takes a moment before Frank manages to get Gerard onto the other side of the couch, and he’s tugging his last item of clothing down.

Gerard’s already painfully hard, and Frank would give anything to touch him first, but he doesn’t have enough time. He needs to just feel Gerard, and have Gerard feel him.

Frank looks at Gerard in awe for a moment, “my parents always said the choreography was the most important part.”

“Well we want to give the crowd what they paid for, so make sure you’re on point.”

Frank grins, and then looks down at Gerard, hardly believing his luck that this gorgeous man with his cartoonish red hair is here with him.

Gerard makes a giggling sound, and makes himself comfortable in the armrest of the couch, “you’re pretty.”

“I don’t have any-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gerard says, grabbing Frank’s hand and putting it on his side.

“It’s upstairs,” Frank tries to say.

“Doesn’t matter!” Gerard repeats.

“But-”

“We fucked this morning, it’s fine,” Gerard says determinately, and Frank creases his eyebrows skeptically.

Frank pulls Gerard’s legs apart lightly, without protest, and prods his entrance carefully. He’s tight in any case, so Frank’s a bit hesitant, but Gerard’s got this look in his eyes. The look that says ‘do as I say or I will rip you’re nose off and then put it back upside down.’

“Gerard-”

“Oh for god’s sake,” he says, then sucks on two of his fingers. Before Frank can even process it, Gerard’s sticking two fingers into his hole, and his head falls back. Frank wouldn’t be surprised if the Sinclair’s could hear that moan from inside their house in their panic room. Frank assumes they have a panic room with the label ‘Breakdown over the Reality of Gay Sex’ on the door.

“You’re, like, super hot right now,” Frank says with his mouth half open.

“As opposed to the rest of the time where I’m hideous?” Gerard replies with his eyes closed, and his tongue poking out of his mouth.

Frank can only croak in response, because he could get off by just watching Gerard fuck himself on his own fingers. His brain is failing him, but he’s got no blood left to spare on menial things like thinking.

Gerard chuckles, and pulls his fingers out, then looks at Frank proudly. He’s got that crooked smart-ass grin plastered onto his face, with a glint in his eye that says so vehemently, ‘I told you so.’

“Is that good enough?”

“I... mhm,” Frank says, pressing his body down against Gerard’s. He forgets momentarily what was going on and just kisses him, hungrily. He’s not sure what it is he’s trying to achieve by attacking Gerard’s mouth other than getting some spit on his chin, but he’s so gone right now.

“Ugh, Frank,” Gerard complains, “Hurry up, I need you!”

Frank bites his lip and suppresses a grin when Gerard says that he needs him. He finds it hard to believe anyone would need him, but he’s not going to argue.

Frank just pulls Gerard’s legs further apart, until Gerard wraps them around his waist. He’s got a firm grip around Frank and he’s glaring up at Frank daringly. His pupils are blown, dramatically overtaking the light of his irises, and his hair is thrown back chaotically. Frank can see the brown roots of his hair in the corner of his temple next to his ears, and the sweat matting the tips of it to his forehead. Frank could go insane just from the sight of his beauty.

Gerard wouldn’t like that though, so finally he grabs his cock, and aligns himself with Gerard’s entrance, cautiously.

“You okay?” Frank asks, before he even begins pushing in.

“I won’t be if you keep stalling.”

Frank nods, and then ever-so-carefully pushes in. Gerard makes a content sound, but Frank watches him, analyzing his features meticulously. If Gerard so much as winces he’s going to stop and wait for a say so, but Gerard’s aware of that. Because of this, he discards any such emotion, and only allows Frank to see his want and his need.

There is a panging of pain, but he breathes it away, and closes his eyes. Gerard grabs Frank by the back of the neck, and pulls him down until their chests touch. Frank bottoms out, and Gerard makes a whining sound, which causes Frank to freeze and look at Gerard.

“P-please,” Gerard says direly, and Frank buries his head into Gerard’s shoulder. He’d probably never admit it, but the space between Gerard’s neck and shoulder is Frank’s favorite part of him. It’s his most sensitive spot, the most prone to hickeys and the most comfortable place in the entire fucking world for him to put his head. That nook right there near Gerard’s clavicle trumps any pillow in the world.

Also it smells like Gerard. Like it really really smells like Gerard. It doesn’t smell like coffee or paint or flowers, it smells like him without the covering up. Frank loves it, as much as he likes the cocktail of other smells, Gerard’s got this natural scent that drives Frank off the wall.

“Frankie,” Gerard begs, “I want...”

“Yeah, sorry,” Frank says, lifting his head the smallest bit to look at Gerard’s face. He’s got a remarkable face. He’s got this small aquiline nose, and a warm touch of rouge color in his cheeks, especially at the base of his cheekbones. He’s mesmerized by how gorgeous Gerard is, his delicately lidded eyes, and his crooked mouthed o-face.

Frank thrusts further into Gerard making the man let out the smallest noise, but it’s music to Frank’s ears. There isn’t a song nor ballad in the world as beautiful as the sound of Gerard Way getting fucked.

“Louder, Gerard,” Frank commands, pressing his face back into Gerard’s neck. He tries to stop himself from moaning at the way Gerard feels around him, but it’s pretty hard. He’s about three hundred percent certain that he and Gerard fit perfectly together. They’re more perfect than a jigsaw puzzle, it’s unbelievable.

If Frank can say, with the number of guys he’s slept with, that Gerard is the best fuck he’s ever had, then it is saying something.

Frank pushes back in, harder this time, trying to find enough stability to do this right. His feet were knocked out from under him though, metaphorically, so he’s having trouble finding his way back onto firm ground.

Gerard’s cock lies between them, and Frank grabs onto it, wanting more than anything to hear Gerard say his name. He wants the Sinclair’s to know, without a hint of a doubt, that Gerard is with Frank, and that he fucking loves it. He wants everyone on the block to know.

Frank knows that he’s found Gerard’s prostate after he makes a half-shriek and half-whimpering sound. Gerard’s mouth is right next to Frank’s ear so he hears everything from his small noises to his inhales. He tries to yank on Frank’s hair, but his arms are too weak and give in a moment later.

“Oh god,” Gerard splutters, his hands scrambling at Frank’s back. His hands are slippery with perspiration so he has a hard time keeping them in one place, but he manages to get a grasp on the bones in Frank’s shoulder. He holds on for dear life, as Frank slams back into him, harder, and normalizes his pace. There is no rhythm, and the sporadic nature of it is what gives it a certain cadence. Frank can’t find the will to care about meter in a time like this, because all he cares about is making Gerard scream.

“God, Gerard,” Frank says, biting down on the soft skin of his shoulder causing him to moan louder.

“Frankie, I can’t,” Gerard tries to say, “god I-”

“Go on then,” Frank manages to say, though to be honest he doesn’t know who’s going to climax first. There’s a clenching in his stomach, and his pace is getting even messier, so it’s only a matter of time.

To his surprise however, Gerard cums seconds later with the loudest scream yet, syllables that sound kind of like Frank, but also sound like gibberish. Gerard’s head falls back like a brick as he goes, spilling over Frank’s fingers and both of their stomachs.

Frank doesn’t care, barely even realizes what’s happened before he’s right there with Gerard. He loses sight of everything all over again, forgets the plot of Catcher in the Rye, and feels his whole body turn to jelly. It feels kind of like he’s chilling on a surf board over an active volcano, but it also kind of feels like he’s getting acupuncture. Both of those sensations sound horrific, but it’s actually quite a pleasant combination. There’s a warm feeling washing over him, and his body also feels prickly with hypersensitivity.

When Frank gets passed his momentary lapse he returns to earth, with his head still buried against Gerard. His temple has dug itself into the back of Gerard’s head, against his red hair, and he takes a deep breath.

Frank blinks his eyes, which feel like they’ve crusted shut, but they do still open through more effort than he’d like. He lifts his head up to see Gerard’s cheek against the pillow looking the other way. When he feels Frank move, Gerard turns his head to look at him, and gives Frank a contented smile. He grabs Frank by the back of his head and kisses his forehead sweetly.

“The critics can eat their hearts out. Five stars,” Gerard mumbles, and lets his head fall back on the armrest languidly.

Frank snorts, “think we’ll win a tony?”

"I don’t think the world is really ready for us yet,” Gerard says, eyes closed, and voice soft.

“We did put on a good show,” Frank says, “maybe an encore after a brief intermission?”

Gerard rolls his eyes, and wraps an arm around Frank who settles himself into the more comfortable position between the back of the couch and Gerard’s body. He reaches for a blanket hanging over the side, and throws it over the both of them. Frank tucks his head into Gerard’s embrace, letting his head rest on Gerard’s chest.

“I hope they move soon,” Gerard says, pushing hair out of his face.

“If that’s what we’re going to do to try to get rid of them,” Frank starts, “then I don’t.”

“I don’t need a fucking audience every time, you kinky fuck! Just say the word, and I am down to go down.”

Frank snorts, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say!”

“Yeah, but admit it, you think I’m adorable.”

Frank rolls his eyes, “yeah alright.”

“I am adorable,” Gerard huffs, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Frank looks at him, nudging his nose against, “About Brendon and Ryan’s wedding...”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks.

“When would it be too soon to have another wedding without stealing attention from theirs?”