mwestbelle | commentfic again

And Mikey could offer advice, whisper soft in Frank's ear just how to leave Gerard wanting and breathless, but he doesn't. He just strokes his fingers absentmindedly over Frank's tummy and watches the clean slide of his brother's body flushed with stolen blood through Frank's stubby little fingers. Frank is surprised to catch slickness when his thumb slips over the head and he blinks up at Gerard. Is that supposed to happen?

Gerard catches Frank's confused look and nods, smiling reassuringly and intending to say as much, but he gasps instead, pushing up into Frank's hand. "It's good," he manages after a moment, and Frank twists his hand experimentally, looking down at his hand with a thoughtful expression.

Frank tries to remember what felt good when Mikey did it to him, but that was with his breeches still on and still a haze of hotyes to him. He bites his lip, twisting his hand again on the upstroke when Gerard's hips stutter. He smiles, childishly pleased at his discovery. Mikey laughs a little, lips pressed against the top of Frank's head, feeling warm in a way different from desperate heat in your stomach at the sight of the boys, his boys.

"Frank, I'm going to come," Gerard says weakly after a moment, hips pushing up desperately one last time. But Frank doesn't know what he means exactly, and so he doesn't know to pull away when Gerard does (after what seems like years of buildup) and he stares, fascinated. "Did I do that?"

"Mmm." Mikey hums his assent, since Gerard looks more than a little dazed from waiting for his end, and drops his head to kiss softly at Frank's neck, where the bitemarks have already disappeared. He licks a little under Frank's ear, petting through his hair with his free hand. "Good boy."

Frank grins sunnily at the endearment, stretching his neck to the side to give Mikey more room to lick (or to bite down again, like he did before) and he grabs Gerard's hand, trying to pull him into a hug from the other side. He wants to have the comfort of both of their notwarmth on either side of him, sandwiching him.

Mikey takes the invitation, licking and sucking hard so that the blood Frank took from Gerard and him rises to the surface. Frank shifts a little, already feeling warmth pooling in his stomach, especially once Gerard obeys, snuggling in tight against the both of them. Mikey continues to pet at Frank's tummy with the hand wrapped around him, fingers tracing the soft underside, and the other he uses to stroke the curve of Gerard's hip, thigh to side round and supple under his careful hand.

After a moment Gerard shifts the three of them so they're lying on the bed, Frank on the middle on his back and Mikey and Gerard on either side. At this angle, he can see Mikey's face, look to his brother for input of what they should do next. What do you want to try?

Mikey hums a little under his breath. He has so many ideas, beautiful pictures in his mind of how he can shape Frank and Gerard, and no idea where to start. He smiles when Frank leans his head against his chest, pulling one of Gerard's arms across his stomach. "Tired, Frankie? Or do you want to try more?"

"More," Frank says insistently, pouting. "I'm not tired." He doesn't feel tired in the slightest, not in the way of wanting to go to sleep anyway and he wants to try everything that they do.

Mikey runs his hand down to Frank's thigh. He's been moving rapidly towards readiness since he nested Frank between his legs, and he knows that Gerard will be ready soon--Frank, of course, needs next to no time with his youth and enthusiasm. "I think I'll take Gerard, and Frank, what would you like? A mouth again, or something new?"

Frank takes no time at all to decide, as eager as he is to figure out everything there is to know about this new world he's been introduced to. "Something new? If that's okay," he says, shifting towards Mikey's hand.

Mikey smiles at Frank's enthusiasm--the boyish energy that had annoyed him so much now seems tremendously useful--and reaches over to cup him gently, fingers barely ghosting over his flesh. "Would you like to get Gerard ready for me? Make him open and wanting?"

Frank doesn't know what Mikey means by that, arching up against the light touch of Mikey's fingers, but whatever it is it sounds positive. It sounds like it's something they do a lot, and he doesn't want to mess it up but he wants to try it. "Yeah," he says, quickly, in case Mikey might change his mind.

Mikey guides him upright to a sitting position and grins over at Gerard, leaning close to speak against his jaw, curled around Frank's back, low enough that Frank can barely hear. "Is that alright, Gerard? He's going to take you, but you won't come until I do, because you're still mine."

Frank frowns, trying to lean closer and hear what they're saying, see why Gerard flushes before closing his eyes and nodding, biting his lip. "Okay," Gerard says, and that he could hear properly. Whatever it is that Mikey wants him to do, Gerard is okay with it.

"Frank, there's a bottle in the pocket of my satchel. Would you bring it here?" Frank doesn't want to leave the bed, feels like getting out might break whatever spell has made this night so amazing (it's still his birthday, still the same night that he hugged all his relatives goodbye for the last time, though they didn't know it), but he knows that it's not really a question, and he doesn't want to make Mikey angry.

He scurries off as quick as he can, wanting to get back to bed where it doesn't seem to strange for him to be half-bare in this rented room. He hands the bottle to Mikey, but after unscrewing it, Mikey takes Frank's hand and pours a fresh-smelling oil over his fingers.

Frank blinks at it, confused, and tests the slippery slide of his fingers against each other. "What's this for?" he asks, sniffing at the oil curiously. He can't pinpoint what the smell is past that it's good.

He looks up at Mikey, not wanting to rest his slippery fingers against his body, holding his hand slightly in the air. If this is part of what Mikey wants him to do to Gerard--he doesn't know how it would be and he frowns at the thought.

Mikey nudges Gerard, who rolls obediently on to his stomach, trembling a little. "You're going to use your fingers to stretch Gerard, Frankie. Don't worry, I'll help." He takes Frank's wrist and coaxes him until he extends two fingers--his hands are so small, and Gerard is used to Mikey being far rougher with him that this--slipping them down to the swell where Gerard's back gives way to his legs. Mikey uses his other hand to tap the inside of Gerard's thighs until he spreads them further. "Here we are Frankie, no need to worry, it'll all be so good."

Frank frowns further at Mikey's words, and he has to bite back the exclamation of I'm not a baby. Mikey is only a year older than him, after all, even if he's been that age for a hundred years. "So I--" and at the very least he is glad of Mikey here, for knowing what to do, and with Mikey's help he presses two fingers into Gerard, slow. "Doesn't that hurt?" he asks, giving Mikey a worried glance.

"He's fine," Mikey croons a little, speeding up the movement of Frank's hand with his own, gripping tight around his wrist with long fingers. He wants this control, because if Frank isn't imprinted with that central concept in Mikey and Gerard's life (Mikey is in charge), the three of them will never fit together. "He's used to worse. Curl your fingers a little."

Frank's eyes widen at that, worse? what does that even mean? but he obeys, because from the time that he's spent with the Ways he's seen Gerard's quiet assent to everything Mikey does, the submissive "Whatever you want" attitude. He curls his fingers experimentally, moving them, and he thinks he's doing something wrong except that when he shifts at a certain angle Gerard gasps, body jerking. He blinks, staring.

Mikey smiles at Frank's surprised fascination with his effect on Gerard. "I think he's ready." After all, Frank is young and proportionate. Gerard can handle it; Gerard can handle anything Mikey gives him. Frank turns a little to look up at him, confused, but Mikey just reopens the oil and pours some over his own hand, and fists almost-roughly over Frank's cock, to his gasp. He taps Frank's hip, lining him up. "Go on, there we are."

Frank stares, because he understands, basically, what Mikey is telling him to do and can I really do that? But Gerard already said it was okay, he heard Gerard say it, so he grips Gerard's hips for dear life and pushes in, almost wanting to cry at the intensity of it. There was something that felt like this and no one ever told me?

Gerard arches his back, because, god, when he was watching Frank, thinking of taking him in his hands, he never pictured them like this, Frank's fingers digging bruises smaller than the ones Mikey leaves on his hip. And Mikey is watching, eyes lidded, hand just resting on Frank's back, feeling his muscles tense as he moves.

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