mwestbelle | commentfic again

Gerard can feel the way Mikey is twisting, trying to keep his hips still, and he pulls off for a moment to gasp out, "You can, if you want, I--" before going back down, sucking hard. He moves his hands so they're fisted into the sheets instead of resting on Mikey's hips, intent clear. Go ahead, I want you to.

Oh god, oh god. Mikey doesn't waste a second's thought before his hips thrust up. He should, really, because this is Gerard's first time at this and he was ever so gentlemanly to Mikey on his first try, but having felt how all-encompassingly good the heat of Gerard's mouth feels, he can't bring himself to second-guess.

And Gerard just takes it, groaning around Mikey's cock and letting his brother use his mouth as roughly as he wants, hips thrusting in. I shouldn't like this, he thinks, distantly, hands tightening in the sheets, but ohgod I do, I.

The way Gerard lets him do it, doesn't struggle or even make a sound of displeasure, makes Mikey need it even more, and he just gives himself full liberty, hips rocking up up up into the plush of Gerard's mouth. His hand snakes down to entwine in Gerard's hair and he pushes down, as much of a request as he can manage with the viciously hot blurring in his head.

Gerard goes down further, as far as he can without choking, breathing heavily through his nose and he can feel Mikey's body shaking when he's this close, the tension in his limbs. Mikey's hips rock up again and he makes another low sound, hand curling around Mikey's hip to urge him on, to keep going.

But Mikey can't keep going, it's entirely too much for his system--a mere glance down to see where his fingers are stark white against the dark of Gerard's hair and the obscene stretch of his lips, and his hand is clenching in Gerard's hair, holding him firmly in place, while his head tips back and he moans reedy and breathless when he comes.

Gerard pulls back, swallowing as best as he can. "Was that--good?" he asks, hesitant, looking up at Mikey with big eyes, and his voice is wrecked, rough-sounding. He almost doesn't recognize it for a moment.

The sound of Gerard's voice, so rough and unlike his normal higher-pitch, combined with the knowledge of how it got that way is almost enough to bring Mikey straight back to readiness. As it is, he cups Gerard's face in his hand and draws him up for a kiss, licking into Gerard's mouth to find where his own taste still lingers. "It was amazing."

Gerard sighs into the kiss, tasting himself and Mikey both, and he makes a mental note to thank the sailor who brought it up in the first place (for some other reason, he'd say, of course). "Good," he says, as they break apart, smiling, voice still raw. "Do you want to try anything else? I mean, since we have all night--" and who knows how long after that

Mikey strokes a little at Gerard's hip with his thumb, still not able to contain his smile. It's the happiest he's felt since the change, and he wants to just sink into these good feelings--morning, he knows, will come too soon. "That would be nice. Did you have anything particular in mind?"

Gerard thinks for a long moment, on the chatter with the sailors and then the hushed side-conversation two of the men were having. "I--did you hear the two who were talking about the man who--you know, with the--the fingers thing?" He looks away, cheeks pink. "I think I'd... want to try that?"

Mikey frowns a little, a little crease forming just above his nose. "I couldn't hear them very well, but if you want to try it, I will." He trusts Gerard to never suggest something he won't like, knows that Gerard will watch out for him that way, like he always has. Whether it's where they should go swimming or some mysterious thing with fingers, he'll trust Gerard's judgement.

"Do you want to try it on me first, so I'll know what I'm doing? I don't want to hurt you." Gerard himself isn't entirely sure of the mechanics behind the act, still trying to figure out how anything would (and he's embarrassed to think about it) go.

Mikey considers for barely a moment before he shakes his head. "No. You got to try mouthes first. It's my turn." He sinks back into the bed, flat on his back with arms above his head and thighs falling gently apart, and closes his eyes with a tiny smile. "Do what you will, Master Way. I am completely at your mercy."

Gerard smiles, still uncertain, and slides his fingers down to trace at the pale skin of Mikey's inner thighs. "From what they said, it sounded like it wasn't comfortable," he says, frowning. "But I was thinking--if we had something to make my fingers slicker, it would be easier, wouldn't it?" He knows Mikey tends to carry around all manners of lotions and oils, loves the smells of them, and he remembers Mikey buying some from another passenger on board, a salesman from the East on his way to new markets. "Where do you have the lotion you bought?"

Mikey hums at Gerard's fingers playing over his skin, and almost doesn't want him to go away, even for only a matter of seconds. It couldn't be so uncomfortable, could it? But he knows if Gerard thinks something will hurt him, he's not going to budge until he's take every cautionary measure possible. Mikey nods towards toward the chair. "There should be a bottle in my pocket, my hands were feeling rather dry earlier."

Gerard gets up and goes through Mikey's pocket, returning triumphant with the small bottle in the palm of his hand. He rubs some onto his fingers, making them slippery, before resting his hand between Mikey's legs, not pressing in, just waiting. "Do you want me to just go for it?" he asks, tracing sensitive skin with one slick finger.

"What is this supposed to...do?" Mikey feels a little awkward looking down at Gerard between his legs--usually he's so brilliantly lost in sensation that he can't even think, but Gerard isn't actually doing much yet. The too-slippery slide of his finger along skin is good, but too unfamiliar to be good.

Gerard bites his lip, looking undecided. "I don't know," he admits after a moment. "I suppose we just have to find out?" and then, whispered, "Relax." He presses one finger in, slow, watching Mikey's face for any sign of him being uncomfortable.

Mikey winces at the initial burn, then bites his lip, eyes closed. It's. It's a strange feeling, and he's not sure how exactly he feels about it. It's not unpleasant exactly, not after that first stinging sensation, but it's nothing for sailors to rave about. Unless he's wrong somehow. He makes the most encouraging noise he can, because he'll be damned if he allows Gerard to know that he's apparently defective in some way.

Gerard's finger keeps moving, exploring, and he doesn't add another, still watching Mikey's face. Mikey made an encouraging noise but Gerard can see the way he's fighting to keep himself from frowning (and maybe he's doing something wrong?) and he almost wants to stop, make sure Mikey's okay before doing anything else. I'm doing something wrong and I don't know what, he thinks, frustrated, curling his finger.

Oh god. Mikey jerks, almost sitting upright in the bed with the force of it all and whines high in his throat, not quite capable of speech. There was something there, and he thinks that maybe he knows why those sailors were so interested in this, even when they were forced to whisper apart from their comrades. "Gerard, oh god. Again, please."

"Okay." Gerard grins, pressing his finger against the spot again, slowly sliding in another finger alongside the first. This time, he can actually tell he's doing something right, grateful to the sailors again at the look on Mikey's face, strained and desperate.

Mikey groans--he'd be embarrassed at how easily Gerard draws these sounds from if he knew any better, but he doesn't, so he continues to let his vocalization of his pleasure run free--and squirms a little, trying to get Gerard's fingers deeper inside, making soft, breathless huffing sounds.

Gerard slides his fingers deeper, twisting them, and he leans up, kissing the hollows of Mikey's collarbones. "Are you good?" he asks, sliding in a third fingertip.

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