Sense of Elation

Frank wakes up to a knockoff of a Flock of Seagulls haircut and a craving for coffee about as strong as the smell of his breath. Which is not dandy, in case you were wondering. He groans and looks up at the ceiling which is white and boring, unlike his dream which was weird and he’s already forgotten what the hell it was about.

Frank half stands, but mostly he just rolls out of the bed, and nearly flops onto the floor. He makes a small thud anyway, even though he doesn’t quite fall to the floor. Frank’s pretty groggy right now and he’s not going to start functioning properly until he has some caffeine. He’s like a cell phone, he needs to be charged or he doesn’t do shit and he beeps at you.

He makes his way to the bathroom, because he needs his coffee but he also needs to piss. Frank’s eyes are barely open, and honestly, he’s not sure why he’s awake right now. Really, he should’ve just gone back to bed, but he didn’t feel like it. He just decided it was better to wake up, and he’s not quite sure why that was what sounded easiest.

He must’ve turned into a zombie or something, because all Frank knows is that he’s standing in front of the coffeemaker and it’s making a whining sound like Chewbacca having an orgasm. Frank yells at it, because the most logical thing he can think to do is yell at the coffee maker.

Frank knows he’s forgetting something. Maybe he didn’t do this dishes last night, or he left the TV on. That doesn’t sound like it. He’s forgotten something, but he’ll just have to wait for whatever it is to come to him.

Eventually though, the darn thing starts to spurt out the coffee which tastes like dirt, and Frank really needs to replace this thing, because it’s insane how much shit he goes through because of his coffee addiction.

“Fucking nasty,” Frank mutters at it, and downs half his cup because it’s best to take this shit like medicine, and get it down as quickly as he can take it. This would all be so much easier if he didn’t depend on coffee to not fall asleep doing daily tasks such as breathing, and pumping blood.

“Morning,” someone says, wrapping his arms around Frank’s waist from behind him. Frank smiles, even though he feels sleepy and isn’t in the mood to socialize quite yet. Thing is, he’s never going to get used to that.

“Let me finish this,” Frank says, and he scrunches up his nose so that he can glug down the rest of the sludge.

“Coffee more important than me?”

Frank shrugs, “I can’t appreciate you if I’m about to fall asleep, Gerard.”

“I need coffee too,” Gerard says, “but that shit coffee isn’t worth it.”

“Don’t you insult the coffee maker, I found that thing for like ten bucks at a flea market.”

“Who buys appliances at a flea market?”

“Apparently I do,” Frank says.

“I should buy you a new one. Speaking of, merry Christmas.”

“Oh that’s what I was forgetting,” Frank says, feeling like a complete idiot, because no normal person forgets what holiday it is to the caliber of Christmas.

“Please don’t tell me you actually forgot about fucking Christmas,” Gerard says.

“Okay, I didn’t forget,” Frank says, “I just had a momentary lapse in memory.”

“So you forgot.”

“Alright maybe,” Frank says, and he turns around to look at Gerard whose hair can’t actually be that nice when he just woke up. There’s no way that’s natural. He’s just too perfect, it’s annoying. Gerard’s so perfect, if he bowls, the pins probably knock themselves down so as not to inconvenience him.

“You’re kind of a ditz, and I mean that in the nicest way possible, that’s also not in the nicest way possible. Whatever I have to say for you not to kick me.”

“Probably gonna kick you anyway,” Frank says, tiredly resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder. He smells like Gerard and also like Frank, which is kind of nice. Frank likes the way Gerard smells better though, but it’s nice that they spend enough time together that he sometimes does smell like Frank.

“Oh that’s great. Make it a tradition. This Christmas you kick me, last Christmas you threw a paperweight at me.”

“It’s not my fault you never told me you were as coordinated as a lobster with no eyes,” Frank laughs, putting both of his arms around Gerard’s neck. He got him once, Frank’s not going to let him go now, and if that means trapping Gerard there with his noodle arms, then so be it.

“I am not!” Gerard says, “Oh fucking hell, who am I kidding. I don’t even have that much coordination.”

“Yeah, well here’s a test for you,” Frank says, “Can you find my mouth?”

Gerard shrugs, and takes his hand, poking Frank’s mouth absent-mindedly and then smirking.

“Alright so you’ve mastered a really basic coordination. Now, can you get that target without your hand?”

“Well what else would I use?” Gerard asks.

“I fucking hate you,” Frank says, pulling Gerard down. So, maybe coffee isn’t the only thing that keeps him awake. Kissing Gerard does a damn good job of it too.

“Not a very festive thing to say.”

“Merry Christmas, asshole. Kiss me.”

Gerard grins into the kiss and bites down on the bottom of Frank’s lip, which is reason enough to let Gerard do anything. Want to rob a bank? Have Gerard kiss the security guard. Want to get out of a speeding ticket? Have Gerard kiss the cop. Want to murder your homophobic neighbors? Too bad, they’re stubborn and scarily persistent. Though, if you kiss Gerard, it’ll take your mind off of them.

“All I am to you is a pair of lips,” Gerard laughs.

“Not true! You’re a dick too,” Frank says, pushing Gerard backward, but still maintaining the hold he’s got around him.

Gerard mumbles something that gets lost somewhere between his mouth and Frank’s. He doesn’t even consider trying to say anything, because he hits the counter behind him a moment later. Gerard really wishes he wasn’t wearing pajama pants right now, because there is literally nothing he can do to hide a fucking thing. He’s been with Frank long enough that he’s not stupid enough not to know all of Gerard’s buttons, but still. He kind of wants coffee too, and it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. What the hell kind of Starbucks would be open right now anyway?

Frank tastes good right now. He tastes like gross coffee and toothpaste. He smells like, well he smells an awful lot like sex, but that’s mostly because he smells like their bed, and their bed smells like sex. That’s mostly because they have an awful lot of sex. Not always in the bed, there was the time in the lawn chair, several thousand times in the shower, the living room while their neighbors fucking watched, the hall closet, the entryway, the stairs, up against the window, the bedroom closet, the downstairs hallway, the upstairs hallway, the laundry room, and probably a few other places that have slipped Gerard’s mind because they do it a lot. Gerard’s kind of proud of that. Who wouldn’t be?

“You’re disrespecting Jesus,” Gerard says, as Frank paws at the incredibly loose fitting pajama bottoms.

“You are way too hot for me to worry about my eternal damnation,” Frank says, pressing against Gerard, who’s got a counter painfully nudged into his back, but honestly, he doesn’t mind it all that much, because Frank’s kisses are like heaven.

“God,” Gerard grumbles, and he tugs on the strands of Frank’s hair at the back of his head.

“Not quite, but I’ll take it as a compliment,” Frank snickers.

“You’re annoying.”

“Yeah?” Frank asks, pulling Gerard’s pants almost completely off, if not for the fact that his ankles get in the way of actually taking them off. Frank’s not a pajama kind of guy. Usually he just steals one of Gerard’s shirts and wears a pair of boxers. Today is one of those days.

Gerard steps out of his pants and wraps his arms around Frank’s waist, playing with the hem of his boxers, because right now, Gerard feels like Frank’s wearing way too many items of clothing. Actually, he’s certain of it.

Frank mouths at Gerard’s jaw for a moment, before he nips at the skin on his neck, which makes Gerard let out a frail little ‘ah’ sound which Frank can actually feel reverberating from his neck. It makes Gerard forget all about getting Frank naked though.

“Still think I’m annoying?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Gerard replies, grabbing the back of Frank’s head, and trying to subtly, but at the same time, forcefully, push him lower.

Frank giggles and presses his nose into Gerard’s shoulder, dipping his tongue into the collar bone. He runs a hand under Gerard’s ratty shirt, and Gerard’s hands are starting to go incredibly limp, because he can’t think of anything he could possibly do that’s better than this. Well, there’s a couple of things in fact, and this realization forces Gerard to push further on Frank, placing his hands on Frank’s shoulders now.

Frank’s rucked Gerard’s shirt up so far it’s almost a scarf, but it’s still totally getting in the way so he takes his mouth away from Gerard for a moment and pulls it over his head. He takes this moment to also get his own up and over his head, throwing it across the kitchen and out of his mind for the time being.

With the shirts gone, Frank goes back to kiss Gerard again, and Gerard doesn’t even have the will to complain that he’d had other ideas, but before the kiss even starts, it’s ending. Frank makes his way back down Gerard’s body, trailing kisses on every part of the skin he comes to. There’s no need for Gerard to do any coaxing at this point, as Frank’s got it all covered.

He comes to a stop, after having dropped to his knees, and he’s looking up at Gerard through insanely long eyelashes, that are blinking far too innocently. Frank mouths at the outline of his cock through the thin fabric, and Gerard takes in a sharp breath that he’s unable to let go.

“Frank!” Gerard mutters, and Frank grins, looking up at him.

Frank’s really just not patient either. Sometimes, a lot of times, most of the time when he’s with Gerard, he just has an odd craving, if that’s even the right word, to suck him off. That’s one of Frank’s favorite pastimes actually. After fucking his brains out, and having Gerard fuck his brains out, there are few things better than blowing Gerard.

He runs a hand along Gerard’s leg for a moment, before his hands hook themselves under the hems of his underwear. Frank looks up at Gerard with his big doe eyes, but Gerard’s head has fallen back, with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” he whispers when the cool air hits him more rapidly now that he’s completely naked in their kitchen. This seems to happen way too often for it to be considered normal, but he’s never once complained about it. It’s also never gotten old. No number of times he fucks Frank in the kitchen will ever be old or boring. Ever.

Frank kisses Gerard’s thighs lightly, biting enough to leave marks. There the good kind of marks though, because Frank’s not as much into the whole neck ones. Everyone can see those, and that’s fine or whatever, but when he leaves little bruises on Gerard’s thighs, then it’s just for the two of them. They’re still marking Gerard to be with him, and only him, but they also remind Gerard of Frank whenever he feels them, brushes them, sees them. That’s what Frank likes about kissing Gerard’s thighs. He likes the little purple blotches, and if ever a day comes where the skin there is white and unblemished, than Frank has had a tragic accident, because they’re never not there.

“Please,” Gerard whispers, so quiet the sound of the house breathing around them almost drowns it out, “Frankie. Please?”

“All you had to do was ask,” Frank says, cheekily. That’s about as much forewarning as Gerard gets before Frank’s taking as much of him into his mouth as he can bear.

Gerard’s sound is not human, but it goes straight to Frank’s cock anyway. Gerard’s fingers, which are resting on the countertop, dig into the fake granite hard, and it would hurt if he had any feeling whatsoever in his fingers right now.

Frank’s mouth is making some obscene sounds, which Gerard doesn’t care to try to describe. He doesn’t know why he would even focus on that when Frank’s mouth is on his dick. There’s just so many other things on his mind. Like that, mainly.

Frank’s hand holds the base of his cock as he bobs his head, mostly because he needs to hear an encore of that fucking moaning sound Gerard is making right now. You could sell that sound and win a Grammy, he’s absolutely beautiful.

Gerard threads his hands in Frank’s hair, who immediately gets the message, because Frank’s pretty practiced in this, even if he likes to pretend he never met anyone before Gerard. Nevertheless, he slacks his mouth, and just lets Gerard drive, because he’s the expert on what it is that he wants right now. He puts one careful hand on Gerard’s hip, and then Frank lets him use his mouth anyway he wants.

Frank’s hand goes down to get a hold on his own hard-on, which is yelling at him for being recklessly abandoned. He never understands the way his brain works, because he’s way too turned on to be the one giving the blow job, rather than the one getting the blow job. He was probably hardwired for sex or something.

Gerard is having trouble breathing, because every time he tries to, his own moan cuts the air off. Sooner or later, he’s going to get so lightheaded he’s just going to fucking pass out, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Frank’s mouth is sinful, and his hair is so easy to tug on, and he’s so willing, and god does Gerard love him to death.

“Ah, fuck!” Gerard says, caught off guard by his own climax, because he honestly hadn’t known that was about to happen. He mostly just got caught up though, in the way Frank’s mouth is so wet, which is a pretty basic adjective to describe a mouth, but it’s not like it’s untrue. Frank didn’t stuff a bunch of saltine crackers in his mouth before giving head, that would be silly.

Frank’s still slowly jerking himself off in his boxers when Gerard cums down his throat, and he makes a face, but he’s a trooper, and he swallows. Frank rises to his feet, almost at once, wanting to kiss Gerard like there’s no tomorrow.

Gerard’s still kind of caught up in the orgasm, because he barely kisses Frank back at first, trying to regain his breath. It’s lazy, and Frank’s the only one putting effort into the kiss, but he needs it anyway he can get it right now. Gerard ends up trying to get in some air through his nose, which leaves Frank to kiss him even harder.

He comes back to earth quick enough to remember that Frank needs to get off too, and he hurriedly reaches down to find Frank already on it. Gerard rolls his eyes, and pulls the garment off, though Frank’s not in the state of mind to step out of his boxers. Gerard swipes his hand away, and takes control, making Frank moan obscenities into his mouth. He’s not even trying to form words, he’s just making sounds.

Gerard refuses to let the kiss stop, and his free hand pins Frank to him by the back of his neck. Frank’s skin’s gone all sensitive with goose bumps. All at once it feels like his skin is on fire, but it also feels like it’s freezing.

“So close,” he whispers when Gerard bites down on his lower lip and tugs it slightly. Once, again, Frank could be convinced to anything if Gerard did that. Need someone to help you hide a body? Just get Gerard to kiss them. Frank’s eyes are practically glued shut, and his hands don’t know where to settle. They’re on Gerard’s shoulders, but they’re manically roaming around the top of his forearms.

“Gerard,” he says, ripping his mouth away from Gerard at last, and letting his forehead clash against Gerard’s as he releases. He cums onto Gerard’s hand and his stomach, with a quiet yelp that tears through him, and almost makes him fall down.

Gerard notices how lucky he is to have the counter behind him so he hadn’t fallen when he came, but Frank’s not so lucky, and his knees get all weak, forcing Gerard to have to grab him. He makes sure Frank doesn’t hit the floor though, and just allows Frank to pant against his face.

“Frankie,” Gerard mumbles, poking him in the temple after a minute or two.

“What?” Frank groans, because he’s sleepy again, and he kind of just wants to go back to bed.

“Merry Christmas,” Gerard says, smiling. Frank shakes his head, and beams back at Gerard, because there’s not a moment that goes by where he doesn’t remember how lucky he is. Especially to get to spend Christmas with his favorite person in the world.

“Merry Christmas, dork.”

“I’m the dork?” Gerard asks, and his eyes glance sideways at the boxers Frank had been wearing, which, okay, may or may not have The Flash symbol printed all over them.

“I hate you,” Frank says.

Gerard raises and eyebrow, and moves his head to bite down on Frank’s ear. Frank whines slightly, because Gerard is perfect and he knows all of Frank’s little spots, and Gerard knows that he knows all those spots too, so he’s somewhat cocky about it.

Gerard says, real sultry, and quietly into Frank’s ear, “Then why’d you marry me?”