mwestbelle | commentfic again

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.

"Yes, yes, god, yes," Mikey knows he's babbling ridiculously, but he can't stop. He also can't seem to stop fucking himself down on Gerard's fingers--there's still a slight burn when he adds a new one, but now that he's used to it, it's a sweet kind of burn, and the other fingers, oh god, the other fingers are definitely erasing any idea of pain. "I need more, Gerard, please."

Gerard sucks in a sharp breath, his own hips moving against air, and slides the third finger in fully, exploring. He lets himself look down for a second, and the visual of his fingers inside Mikey's body is--god. He knows from what little of the conversation he could listen in on what more is supposed to be, but he doesn't know how to ask if he can. "I, um, Mikey... I can, I just--"

"Do it." Mikey has no idea what Gerard is asking, can barely string together the words, but he trusts him, more than anything, and if Gerard has something that will finally fill him up like he craves, he's all for it. "Whatever it is, just do it, Gee. I want it."

"Alright, hold on--" and even though Gerard's mind is running through what's going to happen almost feverishly, he has the thought that if he had to slick up his fingers he's going to have to use more lotion to do this. He spreads it as quickly as possible, sliding his fingers out of Mikey's body. "I--oh God," and he's pushing in, slow.

Mikey's back arches off the bed and he chokes on his own moan. It hurts and it burns, but it's so good. He's filled, alright, filled to bursting, filled to overflow but there's nowhere for any extra to go so it'll all have to fit inside him. He winces at the pure force of the sensation, but when he feels Gerard hesitating, he pulls up a leg and knocks at Gerard's back with his heel. "Keep going, god in heaven, move."

Gerard slides forward until he's all the way in, eyes wide and stunned. Oh God oh God oh God. It's all too intense, and he's half-afraid he's going to come on the spot. He shifts forward slightly, rocking into Mikey, and he can't contain a helpless moan at the sensation.

Mikey gasps, wrapping his legs around Gerard's waist to pull him as far as he can go, tight against him for the fullest contact they can manage. He feels Gerard on top of him, moving inside him, and it's toomuchjustright. He rocks down again to meet Gerard, squeezing with his legs, hoping to encourage him. Please, do whatever you want, I need you to.

Gerard's hips snap in, harder, wrapped around Mikey as fully as he can. It's intense, all burning heat, and he barely even needs the encouragement from Mikey (Mikey who he's inside, oh God) to want to do more.

Mikey grunts with every slam of Gerard against him, into him. He's aching, pressed firm against his own belly, but his arms are made of jelly and he can't quite convince them to move. He rocks his hips up, tries to thrust a little against Gerard's belly, to get some kind of relief.

After a long moment Gerard catches the movement, what Mikey is trying to do, and he uncurls one hand from where they're in tight fists on the sheets and wraps it around Mikey, moving as he thrusts. "Ohgod," he chokes out, weak.

Mikey feels like he's being forced in every direction, trying to thrust back onto Gerard and up into his hand and it's all so right that he can't believe they've never done this before. He's being pulled apart and it's perfect. Trying to stave off his own completion, he unknowingly clenches down around Gerard.

Gerard lets out a strangled moan, entirely unselfconscious, hand tightening around Mikey reflexively as he moves. "Mikey, I. I--" and anything he meant to say (he's not even sure what it was anymore, his thoughts are so jumbled) comes out as a breath hissed through his teeth.

He can feel Gerard's breath hot and desperate on his face, and when Gerard's hand tightens like that in time with his movements, Mikey makes a last desperate keening sound when he comes over his belly and chest, possibly a little on Gerard's belly as well.

Gerard's rhythm stutters and he thrusts in once more before coming, staring at the look on Mikey's face because god his face is practically sin personified and it looks amazing.

Mikey grabs Gerard by the back of the head and pulls him down to kiss him, stroking through his hair. He holds Gerard's body tight and sweatslick against his own; even though Gerard has gone soft inside him and it's more interesting than good, he's not quite ready to let him pull away.

Gerard kisses back gently, hand coming up to cup the side of Mikey's face. "Are you--should I?" He doesn't want to move, not yet, but if it's uncomfortable for Mikey then he'll do it in a heartbeat.

"I'm fine." Mikey wraps his arms around Gerard's waist, feel the bit of heat they'd created fading, holding him close, holding him in. He wiggles his hips a little, just to enjoy the feeling, and cranes his neck up to press his face into Gerard's shoulder. "Don't leave."

Gerard nods, fingers running through Mikey's hair gently. "I won't," he promises, smiling down at his brother. "Have you thought about where you want to go? After here, I mean," he asks, quiet. "I think we can go as far as we like, but..." And then, because it's occurred to him only lately and it's been bothering him:

"And... Mikey. You were growing really fast, before. You haven't--since you changed, have you?" The unspoken does this mean we don't get older? hangs in the air between them.

"Spain, maybe. I don't care." Mikey arches his back and resesttles a little on the matress to get more comfortable. He frowns at Gerard's questions--it's true, the aches he'd been having in his bones disappeared that night, and he still fits perfectly into the new clothes they bought when they left. Considering that he'd been going through breeches like the Saportas go through chambermaids...yes, something has definitely changed. "I haven't, no."

"I was thinking," Gerard explains after a pause, finger drawing spirals on Mikey's bare back, "that maybe whatever happened means we don't grow anymore. We might not even get older." We might not die. He's glad that he's older, that he can take on a position of authority, because if it's true then Mikey will be fourteen forever.

"It's so strange," Mikey murmurs, letting the rhythymic motion of Gerard's fingers soothe him, even as their conversation turns to strange, dark, and doubtlessly heretical things. "I didn't think such things were possible." That he would be fourteen for as long as he lived, forever gawky, forever on the cusp of true manhood.

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