mwestbelle

"I don't--" Mikey clenches his fist a little bit, exhaling heavily while he forces himself to speak. The movement of Gerard's hand is nice, but it can't unknot the tension curled heavy and unsettling in his gut. "I don't want them to look at you. I don't want any of them to see you and think that they could have you. I can't handle that." He doesn't know where the urge comes from, but it's there, hot and definite in every muscle. Gerard is his.