mwestbelle | commentfic again

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.

Mikey accepts the invitation, hips thrusting forward into the godwetgood of Gerard's mouth, still holding him steady with one hand--he other hand he brings down, possessive, to press against Gerard's cheek, feeling the slide of himself inside. "Oh, that's my boy, that's my good, good boy," he hisses, twisting his fingers through Gerard's hair.

Gerard groans softly, savoring the feel of Mikey's fingers twisted into his hair, the hand on his cheek. He knows Mikey knows how far to push him, how much he can take, and he relaxes, letting Mikey use his mouth like he did the first night they ever did this. He sucks harder, determined to make Mikey lose control entirely.

Mikey jerks, not even trying to control the aggressive roll of his hips. He's close, so close, because this kind of mood always brings him right up to the edge in a moment's notice. The slow pull from Gerard fuels the burning in the pit of his stomach, on and on until he can feel it cresting. Gerard's only warning is a tightening of Mikey's hand in his hair, before he's jerked back and Mikey comes hot and slick across his face with a harsh gasp.

Gerard takes a breath, harsh and ragged, wiping Mikey's come off his face with his fingers and sucking them clean contemplatively. When he's done, he looks back up at Mikey, waiting for his brother to say something, another command.

Mikey watches him while he cleans his face, wipes away the clear marking of his ownership, eyes sharp and clearer than they had been. "Stand up." His voice is lower than usual and rough, as though he was the one who just had his mouth violated. "Take off your clothes and go lie down on the bed." He steps out of his own breeches and kicks them to the side.

Gerard nods again, not saying anything, and he picks himself up from the floor, wincing at the protestation in his knees as he does. He unbuttons his shirt as quickly as he can, tossing it aside, and then unlaces his breeches. Once all of his clothes are off, he slides onto the bed, on his side, watching Mikey.

Mikey follows him to the bed, shirt still brushing against the tops of his thighs, watching the movement of Gerard's muscles under bare skin. He stands at the edge, looking down at Gerard looking back up at him. There's no worry or hesitation in his voice, not even anger. Just strict calm, icy in its completeness. "I'm not going to touch you, Gerard. Do you know why?"

Gerard's eyes widen a fraction, and he fights back the urge to say anything about how that isn't fair, looking up at Mikey with big eyes. He shakes his head. "No, I--I don't. Why?" He wants Mikey to, shifting desperately to try to find some sort of relief.

"You hurt me." His tone is matter-of-fact but his eyes are alight with a vicious kind of fury, the same that he's fought back all through the evening. A small smile curls one side of his mouth. "I don't think you deserve to be touched tonight."

At that, Gerard knows exactly what he's talking about. It's Frank--the way Gerard was acting around Frank, and while he can understand why Mikey was jealous, he wants to get him to stop it already. "Mikey, please," Gerard says faintly, trying to fight the slide of his own hand lower, to give himself some kind of relief. "Please."

Mikey shifts his weight, one hip jutted out, and rubs a little at his still-overfilled stomach, playing bored. "Why should I? Convince me, Gerard, why should I let you come at all?" He catches the slight twitch of Gerard's hand and narrows his eyes. "Don't you dare. Don't touch yourself."

Gerard shifts again, forcing his hand away from his body. "I won't, I. I'll let you do anything you want, make it up to you. Anything at all." He doesn't often put the offer up that open-endedly, but he's so hard it's painful and Mikey is acting like he's not going to do anything and just leave Gerard to suffer.

"Anything?" Mikey drums his fingers contemplatively against his lower belly and traces a few small circles. "That's quite an offer. I'll hold you to that, Gerard." He reaches out and traces just the tip of his middle finger along Gerard's cock and smiles. "Are you sure? You won't tell me you didn't mean it later?"

Gerard shifts forward, pushing against Mikey's finger, and even that little contact is enough to make him let out a breathy whimper, looking up at his brother desperately. "I'm sure, and I meant it. Anything you want to do." He has no idea what Mikey is thinking of, what he wants to do, but it doesn't matter. He trusts Mikey.

"Don't move." Mikey kneels on the edge of the bed, shirt rucking up around his hips, and takes Gerard in his hand. It's too dry, too rough, but he strokes loose (but not loose enough to not feel the burn) until Gerard's body makes the way slicker and easier for him. He spiders his other hand up Gerard's belly and chest to play at a pale nipple.

Gerard tries not to push into Mikey's hand, but his expression is grateful, a rough noise escaping from his (used) throat as Mikey's hands slide up his chest, playing with sensitive flesh. Some part of him wants to know what he's just committed to, agreed to do in exchange for this, but for now he can't gather the thoughts to consider it properly.

Mikey twists his hand on Gerard's cock as he moves down--the way he's learned Gerard likes it, after over a century of touching and teasing and discovering--at the same time as he tweaks hard at the flesh between his fingertips. He leans down so he can whisper in Gerard's ear, breath not hot enough against his skin. "I'm going to bite you while you come, and I'll taste it."

Gerard groans, low and rough, trying to force himself not to move--it's a struggle, and his hips twitch minutely as Mikey's hand moves over him, at the vicious twist of pleasurepain that shoots through him. "Want you to," he gasps out, eyes meeting Mikey's for a brief moment. He knows this isn't what Mikey is asking for, but he can still appreciate it, the way Mikey's fangs are going to sink in, slow, through the delicate flesh in his neck.

Mikey moves his hand faster, still leaning close, waiting for the tell-tale signs, the catch in Gerard's breathing that lets him know the end is near at hand, the groans that signal the final crescendo. He mouths at Gerard's neck just lightly, a bare scrape of lips against sensitive skin, waiting and ready to slide into soft flesh. He's certainly not hungry--Gerard's blood serves not as nourishment, but as a sharing of power.

Gerard's breath stutters, catching in his throat, and he shifts into Mikey's hand just slightly, arching his neck at the feel of Mikey's teeth scraping over it. He's close--after getting himself this worked up (he still doesn't know why doing that (he still doesn't have a real term for it) to Mikey does it to him, but it does, ever time) he feels like he should have come ages ago. "Mikey, Mikey, can I--" and all he needs is one word from Mikey and he'll be there.

Just one hissed "Yes" and Mikey bites down on his neck. Gerard's blood has always tasted different from everyone elses. All kinds of blood have their own flavors (the sweetness of virgins to the bitterness of the elderly) but Gerard's is different in a way that's, well, different from the others. It's completely unique, and instead of filling his belly it feels like his heart is filling and warming.

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