mwestbelle | commentfic again

Frank's eyes widen and he lets go of Gerard's waist almost immediately, scuttling back into the house. "Sorry," he calls after him.

Gerard and Mikey leave, closing the door behind them with a snap, and Gerard turns to Mikey. "I know you don't like it, but--you kind of scared him, there." He sighs, leaning against one of the beams on the porch. "Do you want to go find someone and get a decent meal?"

"He should be scared," Mikey says mildly, picking an imaginary thread from his cuffs. It's true--Gerard is utterly and irrevocably his, and though he may feel bad killing an oblivious child for threatening his territory, it doesn't mean he won't do it. In a blink. He straightens his waistcoat then turns to Gerard with a cool smile, willing to make an effort but not yet willing to forgive. "Yes, please. I'm starved."

"Good, come on."

It doesn't take them long to find a place, the kind of seedy neighborhood that is their primary hunting ground. In places like these, people going missing is par for the course and finding the occasional dead body without its blood doesn't raise scandal. The blood doesn't always taste as good, with diseases running rampant and too many chemicals in some systems, but they make do.

It's pitch black, but there's a small shape moving, on its way home--appropriately enough, it's a small boy of maybe thirteen. Gerard offers him to Mikey first with a motion of his hand. Go ahead, it'll make up for not feeding off Frank. The resemblance is good, anyway.

Mikey considers being offended for a moment, that Gerard is pawning some little jade off on him like it will make anything better. But he's hungry, and he knows it's a sincere apology, even if it feels like another insult. Mikey stalks down the alley, quick as a shadow, and grabs the boy by the shoulder. He whips around, thinner and rougher-hewn than Frank is, but the resemblance is enough.

"What? You want something?" The boy sneers. "You ain't no older that I am, don't you be pushing me around. Unless you're willing to pay--"

Mikey cuts him off with a hand to his throat, close under the chin, effectively immobilizing his vocal cords. He squeezes a little, just enough to make the boy struggle and gasp, imagines Frank's delicate little neck in the place of this boy's dirty one. Just close enough, until the boy's eyes are rolling back, then he drops his hand.

Gasping, the boy manages to hiss "Hell do you think you're--" before Mikey snaps in a blink. It's not a neat bite like usual, it's savage and after several long messy swallows, sounds guttural and obscene, he pulls back with blood dribbling down his chin and eyes half-lidded. "Take the rest. There's not much in him anyway."

Gerard moves forward smoothly, wrapping his hand around the boy's thin neck and biting down with a wet sound, holding him in place. The boy doesn't have much fight left in him, not after losing so much blood, but Gerard doesn't want him to be able to pull away and run for help. He can imagine it's Frank easily, and he finds himself going more slowly, drinking carefully like it is.

In some way, he wants it to be; in his mind's eye Frank's arms are wrapped around his waist and he leans down just far enough to bite into Frank's neck. Frank struggles for a second, eyes wide, and Gerard can imagine the shocked little breathy noise he would make.

Mikey watches, slowly cleaning himself--wiping the blood away with long fingers and sucking contemplatively on them. The slow care that Gerard is using on this filthy urchin is more than obvious; Mikey feels his mood growing darker and darker with each gentle swallow Gerard makes, wonders if Gerard even notices the way his thumb sliding lovingly over the boy's neck.

He wants to thread his fingers through Gerard's hair and yank it back. Expose his neck and force him to his knees like prey, remind him who he belongs to. He might, if this continues. And he's still hungry.

Gerard finally pulls back, opening his eyes--and then the illusion is broken and he lets the boy slump carelessly to the ground, lifeless. He strides back to Mikey without a second's glance back, wiping the corner of his mouth. "Do you want to find someone else? He was--rather small, after all."

He looks around, into the thick darkness of the street (too smoggy here to even see the moon), trying to find another shape moving in the blackness. Even with the way their vision works at night, it's difficult.

Mikey catches movement at the end of the alley and he nudges Gerard and nods towards it. They move past the dirty stone walls, and as they draw nearer, it's clear that's it's a man, around Gerard's height, but very fat and very, very drunk. Neither of them take care to be quiet in their movement, and he turns to them with the roiling joviality and familiarity of the highly intoxicated.

"Say, you boys din't happen to see a pretty lil' thing jus' down this alley, eh?" He stumbles a bit, and Mikey uses this impaired balance as leverage to force him up against the wall. Unconcerned, he chuckles a little, though it turns into a gurgle when Mikey latches onto his neck, gesturing for Gerard to join him.

Gerard is far from gentle with this one, latching on savagely and nearly tearing the man's neck, hand over his mouth to muffle the howl of pain that rips out of him, surprisingly loud. Gerard isn't keen on drawing any more attention to them right now, not when he's fang-deep in the man's neck and can feel his pulse pounding.

He takes Mikey's hand, squeezing it as he swallows. They like eating together like this, sharing their food like they did when they were children. And right now, Gerard needs to reassure Mikey that things are still like they're supposed to be.

Mikey squeezes back and strokes a little at Gerard's palm with his fingertips, an acceptance of his apology (for now, anyway). Still, he drinks with long, needy pulls--he's not really hungry any more, having taken the edge off with the boy, but he want, needs to feel death on his tongue, no matter if it gives him the uncomfortable over-full feeling that makes his veins and insides heavy and distended.

Gerard pulls out of the man's neck with a slick sound, watching as Mikey finishes, drinking deeply. Eventually, the man starts to slump and Gerard catches him, holding him up so Mikey can keep drinking. "We should get back," Gerard says eventually, stroking Mikey's cheek.

He's keeping a close eye on their surroundings, listening with too-sharp ears for the sounds of someone else around, something other than the quiet slurping sounds from Mikey.

Mikey finally feels the man's heart stop, the blood start to stagnate and cool, and he pulls back wiping delicately at his mouth again. He does feel heavy, eyelids starting to droop, and he presses a hand against his stomach, softer than usual with the glut of blood. "Yes. Yes, before light."

The way back to their rooms is easy, though he feels sluggish and a little hazy, relying on Gerard to lead the way through the alleys and down streets.

Gerard leads Mikey as best as he can, grateful to the unnatural strength he acquired when he changed, because his brother is heavy and leaning on him more than a little. He gets them back to the rooms as quickly as he can, noting the traces of dawn as they reach their room.

"Mikey, are you all right?" Gerard asks, stroking his hand. He knows what it's like to take more blood than he can hold, the way the world is blurred, and he knows Mikey overdid it.

Mikey nods, a little slow because his head just feels a bit too heavy, an effort to move it up and down. He watches Gerard through heavy lidded eyes and smiles, slow, until his fangs start to peek out from behind his lips.

"You weren't very good today, Gerard." His voice is soft, a little slurred, but he's steady when he reaches out to cup the curve of Gerard's jaw in his hand, fingers light. "You upset me."

Gerard leans into the touch, eyes closing for a long moment. "So," he asks, opening them again and looking into Mikey's half-closed eyes. "What should I do, then? To make it up to you." He shifts closer, intent clear.

Mikey accepts his gentle advance with more lazy smiles before he gives in to the impulse that struck him in the alley and fists his hand in Gerard's hir and pushing him down, leaving no room for argument or resistance (not that he thinks Gerard would).

Gerard goes down without hesitation, dropping to his knees with a thunk against the hard wooden floor. His knees hurt, in a distant sort of way, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

"So..." he says, letting his voice trail off. If Mikey wants him to do something, he wants to be told to do it.

Mikey releases his hand in Gerard's hair to run his fingers through, gentle for a moment, but only until he reaches the back of his head. His nails dig in when he pushes Gerard's head forward until his nose is pressed against the soft leather of his breeches. He juts his hips forward, spine curved.

"Undo them." When Gerard starts to reach up, he scrapes his nails against the back of his skull. "No hands."

Gerard nods, nose brushing the front of Mikey's breeches, and he leans in, cautiously trying to untie them. After a long moment, he gets one string undone and pulls it free, and then goes after the other, pulling it with his teeth until they come undone, diving back in to loosen them further.

He looks up, more than a little smug. Now what, little brother?

Mikey lets his hand relax again, stroking through Gerard's hair with a little indulgent smile. "Very good, yes." He reaches down to thumb at the corner of Gerard's mouth, and then over his lower lip, rougher than usually acceptable. "Going to suck like I want you to, aren't you, going to be a good boy, right?"

"Yeah," Gerard breathes out, leaning forward to nuzzle against the front of Mikey's undone breeches. "I'll be good." He reaches up, sliding them down slowly, licking at the strip of exposed skin below Mikey's shirt, along one sharp hipbone.

Mikey shudders at Gerard's tongue on his flesh, then takes his cock in hand and nudges at Gerard's lips, "forcing" them open. He can't wait to see them bruised and shining, and he cups his other hand back around the nape of Gerard's neck so he can't pull away (not that he would, but Mikey likes to hold him in place).

Gerard doesn't need any more encouragement than that, and he takes Mikey into his mouth easily, sliding down as far as he can go. He knows Mikey likes him to do this, likes the illusion of forcing him to, and he sucks hard, keeping his hands down at the floor. As much as he'd like to be able to have one to wrap around himself as he does this, Mikey has to tell him (tell him that it's allowed) to before he will.

"Yes," Mikey talks a lot when he's like this, maye some part of his need for control. Little of it makes sense, just an endless litany under his breath. "Yes, Gerard. God. So good. Harder, god yes, my boy." He uses the hand on Gerard's neck to pull him closer, knowing it will press but not break Gerard's limits, loving the feeling of his own pull combined with the hotwetsuction from his mouth.

Gerard sucks harder, shifting forward with the motion of Mikey's hand on his neck, eyes closed. He likes when Mikey calls him that--he's the older one, but Mikey is the one who has more power in their relationship. He shifts forward on his own, encouraging Mikey to let his hips move forwards, move further into Gerard's mouth.

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