mwestbelle | commentfic again

Research is important--this is how they're supposed to learn how to touch, how to bring each other to greater heights.He shakes his head silently, fingers rubbing small circles on Gerard's inner thigh. If he can keep touching him, he should be all right. But Mikey flinches when one of the sailors knocks his knee against Gerard's on the other side, laughing raucously.

He should be able to manage this, he knows the sailors have no designs on Gerard. Except a few of them, lazy and expansive with drink, seem to be giving him more than speculative looks, taking in his aristocratically long hair and pale skin.

Gerard notices, to some extent, trying to appear indifferent to the staring of some of the sailors. He hopes they don't get the wrong impression, sitting back and listening to the conversation going on around them.

He tries to fight back the urge to think what they're saying is just--improper, which he knows is ridiculous. He isn't one to call things improper, not when being intimate with his little brother is becoming a normal fixture in his life.

Mikey's focusing on the rhythmic motion of his fingers on Gerard's leg, and only half-listening to the guffaws and shouts of the men surrounding them to keep himself sane. True, at the beginning of the evening, it was titillating to imagine reenacting their tales in the darkness and privacy of rented rooms. But so long listening without any pay-off has grown tiresome when he isn't involved in the conversation.

"How 'bout you, lad?" One of the eldest sailors grabs Gerard's shoulders with a grin. "Tell us some of yer own tales." It's a dangerous question--if Gerard claims innocence, Mikey has no doubt that the sailors will drag him off to a whore with no discussion.

"Well--" Gerard hesitates, looking at Mikey for help, before saying with a distinct glint in his eye, "I'm used to it not being proper to talk about, you know. But there was this chambermaid--h--she watched me while I was sick..." The tale is obviously edited, free of blood and he and brother, but it's clear to Mikey that Gerard is talking about him.

When Gerard gets to the part about climbing out the window, going into town with the "chambermaid" to hide what they'd been caught doing, the sex in the back room of the shop, one of the sailors laughs, loud, head hitting the table with a thunk. "You've gotten up ta stuff as good as any of us," he says, grinning, turning his head to the side to look at Gerard.

Mikey can't quite help but inch his hand higher up Gerard's thigh while he tells the story. Gerard has always had a flair for tales, with his expressive face and hands, and a voice filled with joy for the memory. And these memories...he has a lot of joy for them as well.

Hearing Gerard's (not quite so graphic as the sailor's, but still plenty filthy) story is making his insides curl in entirely pleasant ways, and he doesn't want to be sitting with all these old salts any longer. He squeezes at Gerard meaningfully, hand far too close for comfort in public.

Gerard breaks off mid-sentence, biting his lip to keep from gasping aloud. He fakes a cough and continues, but when he's done speaking he glances over to Mikey and says "Come on, let's get out of here, okay?" under his breath. A few of the sailors are already passed out in their chairs, and the rest haven't noticed that Gerard and Mikey never really drank much of anything, so they're not surprised when Gerard says that they're leaving to go to bed. One calls out, "I'll find ya a lady if ya want," eyes unfocused and raised hand swaying a little, and Gerard just shakes his head.

They'd gotten a room and a key from the man at the bar before the drinking started, so they need only head straight up the stairs and find their room. There are truly obscene noises coming from the first two, and a girl with a painted face emerges from the third, pulling her skirts back down over her waist. She grins at them when they pass, but her offer of "Need an extra pair of hands, lads?" goes unanswered.

The door securely closed and latched behind them, Mikey plucks at Gerard's waistcoat before starting in on his breeches with no pleasantries. "Take it off."

Gerard nods, unbuttoning his waistcoat and the shirt underneath as fast as he knows how, helping Mikey slide his breeches to the floor. He steps out of them and looks back up, feeling oddly exposed. He's entirely naked, clothes a pile on the floor, and Mikey is still fully dressed. "Do you want me to--?" and he reaches for the buttons of Mikey's coat hesitantly.

Mikey bats his hand away--there's time enough for that later, he's entirely more interested in testing some of their new knowledge on Gerard than his own needs--and directs him back to the bed. He does shrug off his waistcoat to prevent it from getting wrinkled and folds it over his arm, lying it carefully over a chair before coming to stand at the foot of the bed. He takes in the sight of Gerard: pale, naked, and breathless. Already, he can tell that this will be so much better than furtive touches in their cabin (right next door to the captain's, with walls warped and thin).

Gerard looks up at him, sucking in a sharp breath and stretching out onto the bed, waiting. "What do you want to try?" he asks, shifting. He thinks of the sailors and their talk--with no need to sleep, they could try out anything, everything.

Mikey frowns a little, considering, eyes raking over Gerard's body for inspiration, trying to remember everything the sailors told them (mostly the earlier parts, as the night went on they got a little more expansive and Mikey is rather dubious of some of their claims). "My mouth." He says decisively, licking his lips half-unconsciously.

Gerard's breath catches in his throat and he makes a strangled noise, staring up at Mikey. Then please, do it, come on. He can't even begin to think about what it'll feel like, remembering the sailor's enthusiastic babbling about it, about how good it was. "Okay," he manages, weak. "Okay."

Mikey nods once more, whether to himself, Gerard, or a different party all together, it can't be said. Carefully, he kneels on the bed and crawls forward until he's kneeling between Gerard's thighs, on face level with his cock (well, any cock) for the first time. He remembers how the sailor described it, the hotness and wetness, but he's still nervous, unsure. He leans forward instead, darting his tongue out to lick experimentally, a quick stripe along the underside.

Gerard's hips move without any input from him, bucking desperately upwards. "Oh God," he chokes out, eyes closed, overwhelmed by the feel of Mikey's tongue on him, even the light touch of it. "He wasn't kidding," he manages, trying to remember how to breathe. "It's good, I."

"Good." And Mikey's smile is entirely open and happy, almost like it used to be before. The already near-frantic quality of Gerard's voice and actions makes him ache in his breeches, but he's going to finish this before tending to himself. Pleased with the reaction, he licks once more before summoning the courage to wrap his lips lightly around the head.

Gerard lets out a high-pitched whine, trying to make himself hold still, straining with the effort. It's all hotwetheat and he thought the sailor might have been exaggerating, but--apparently not. He lets himself look down, watching Mikey do it, and it feels like he's gotten the wind knocked out of him at the image before him, Mikey's lips wrapped around him, an expression of concentration on his little brother's face.

Mikey's trying hard to keep in mind everything the sailor was so enthused about (hot lips, tongue, hollowed cheeks), but it's so difficult. As he slides further down, taking Gerard in as a hot, solid weight in his mouth, he can't think of anything beyond his hands where they're clenched in the sheets and Gerard filling all his senses to the brim until he's certain there's no room left.

Gerard tries to say something, to urge Mikey on or tell him how good it all is, oh god, but it comes out a stream of wordless babble, hand winding in Mikey's hair, the other tracing his jawline gently. He wants to move his hand up, shift and press against his cheek so that he can feel himself in Mikey's mouth, but he doesn't want Mikey to stop and he knows, somehow, that he's not allowed to push it that far.

Gerard's hands on him spur him forward, telling him on no uncertain terms that he's actually managing to do this properly, and he feels a swelling of pride (not the only thing swelling, not by a long shot, and he shifts his hips a little anxiously up into nothing). He brings his hands to cup Gerard's hips, and, considering himself properly adjusted to Gerard's cock in his mouth, he sucks a little, cautious.

Gerard groans brokenly, low in his throat, hips twitching minutely against Mikey's hands, and he lets himself trace a finger along the hollow of Mikey's cheek as he sucks, other fingers still cupping Mikey's jaw. "Mikey, I'm--" He knows he's not going to hold out much longer, not like this.

Mikey knows it's a warning, recognizes but the desperation in his hips from their earlier touchingg, but he just sucks harder. He's been fascinated by the complete undoing of Gerard as he comes since the start of this whole adventure, and he's looking forward to seeing it and feeling it on a much closer level.

Gerard's hips buck sharply against Mikey's hands, coming with a sharp noise--into Mikey's mouth. Oh God, did he want me to do that? Was it okay to do that? he thinks, frantically, looking down at his brother. "Are you--god, sorry, Mikey, I." And Mikey's mouth is still wrapped around him, almost to the base, and ohgod. It's too much to look.

Mikey blinks a few times, mouth still a little stretched even though Gerard has gone soft, the stickysalty of Gerard's come a definite presence at the back of his throat, even though he swallowed reflexively when he first started. He swallows again, as best he can, and slides off, Gerard's cock slipping from his mouth with a soft, wet sound. Still silent, he traces his thumb over his lower lip, eyes faraway.

Gerard looks down at Mikey, half-worried at his brother's silence. Was that not okay? Did I do something wrong? and then after another silence he finally asks. "Did I do something wrong? I--do you want me to do it to you, now?" He bites his lip, looking down. If Mikey wants him to, he will--and he wants Mikey to want him to.

Slowly, Mikey looks back at Gerard, eyes wide, until he can't hold it in any longer. A laughing-eyed, bitten lip smile, as bright as any he'd given Gerard when they curled up on the terrace to watch the sunset over the sea. He looks years younger, even though he's just fourteen, sweet and innocent and shy. The fact that this youthful renaissance was brought about by sucking his big brother's cock is better left unmentioned.

"I...would you?" He reaches up and cradles Gerard's jaw in his palm. "Would you, for me?"

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