commentfic again

[mwestbelle]

I claim this entry for Frank/Gerard/Mikey VAMPIRE PORNOGRAPHY IN THE COMMENTS.

Please sit back and enjoy as thelemic and I astound and amaze you with our insane love/lust for commentficcing.

Comments

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard looks into his eyes, shivering at the darkness in them. "I don't--I'd never, before, but." But he's heard things, heard his friends talking in hushed whispers about it, and while they weren't talking about two men (wives and maids and even if he tried not to listen because it was improper, he still did) but he supposes it can't be much different.

"I--if I, with my hand," he says, haltingly, fingers tracing over the laces on Mikey's breeches. He doesn't make a move to undo them, not yet, waiting for Mikey's permission before moving forward.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey's body makes his decision for him, hips practically leaping forward against Gerard's hand. It falters more than a little at the motion, and Mikey snakes his own hand down to clasp over the back of it and press it firmly against the laces, the span of his own fingers greater than Gerard's, so his fingertips brush the fabric even as his palm presses hard against the not-warm-enough back of Gerard's hand. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment at the intensity of it all, then brings his focus back to Gerard. "Do it."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard takes a deep breath, unwinding the laces as best as he can with shaking hands. Oh God, what am I doing? he thinks, faint, before sliding his hand inside Mikey's breeches, taking a moment to figure out what to do before wrapping a hand around Mikey's cock, moving slow. This, at least, is familiar enough--he's done it to himself, at any rate.

"Is this--is it okay, Mikey?" he asks, hesitant, biting his lip.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey could cry, is almost crying. It feels so good. He's never done this, anything like it, not even in the dark and still of his own room. And here, with Gerard making the bitten-lip face of intense concentration he'd seen while his brother painted or tried to tell a story after a few too many glasses of wine, it's more than anything he could have dreamed.

The burning is already starting low in his belly, and though he isn't precisely sure what it means yet, his hips move, helping to slide his cock through Gerard's hand, and he whines.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Encouraged by the noise, Gerard moves his hand faster, tightening his grip slightly. He tries to get Mikey to look at him again, trying to gauge if what he's doing is working. I don't know what I'm doing I wish you would tell me that I'm doing it right so I would know but he doesn't want to demand anything out of his brother, not like this.

His own hips move out of their own accord, brushing against the back of his hand, and he bites back a whimper at the feeling.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

It's all too much for Mikey, as new to this world as he is, and his hips stutter into Gerard's hand as he comes with a surprisingly soft groan. He goes a little limp and squeezes his eyes shut, just breathing. When he opens them again, he sees Gerard watching him, eyes wide and desperate, hips jerking minutely as though he can't help it.

"I want to try." Voice rough, Mikey reaches out to tug a little at the waist of Gerard's breeches, fingers tucked in to the first knuckle on either side of the lacing. "Let me."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

And all Gerard can do is nod helplessly, trying not to shift towards Mikey's fingers in the lacing of his breeches and failing, hips moving of their own accord. He lets out a desperate whine, eyes falling shut. "Oh God," he says, taking a deep breath, past the point of even caring about the sin of this. "Please, baby brother, I. Please. Go ahead."

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey slides his fingers over, feeling warm (but not properly warm) skin behind his knuckles, and runs his thumb down the laces, feeling the roughness of the leather and the firmness of the flesh beneath. His brother's flesh. Meticulously, he undoes the laces just far enough to fit his bony fingers in.

He takes Gerard in his hand and hesitates, just as concentrated as Gerard was (though instead of a bitten lip, his eyes get wider and darker still) or even more so. After all, he knows not even the feel of his own ready body, much less that of another man, an older man. His gaze moves sharply to Gerard's face, needing some kind of reaction to tell him it's all right. It's not all right, of course; it would be an affront to God were Gerard any man, but that Gerard shares his blood and flesh makes this an abomination. They are abominations.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard can feel Mikey's gaze on him even as he's looking away, and he meets his brother's eyes, gasping at the feel of Mikey's hand wrapped around him. How much penance, for this? How much time on our knees? he thinks, a brief, sharp pang of fear.

But he doesn't want Mikey to stop, doesn't think he's even physically capable of pulling away now, and his hand wraps around Mikey's wrist, gently, trying to urge him on.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Authoritative as he's become, Mikey is still desperate to do this right, desperate to bring his brother even a fraction of the pleasure Gerard had given him. So he doesn't argue when Gerard starts to guide him, and just lets Gerard set the pace, trying to being accustomed to the feel of him moving across his palm. It's nice--he feels more connected to Gerard this way, another spark of brotherly affection (though previous brotherly affection hadn't left him rapidly returning to readiness in his undone breeches).

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard half-muffles a moan, hand coming up from Mikey's wrist to cover his mouth (he may have assented to do this, but he still has no interest in waking the shopkeeper), hips pushing desperately into his brother's hand. He can't even think about how much better it feels, having Mikey's hand around him instead of his own. Mikey's movements are clumsy, unlearned, but it's still one of the best things he's ever felt.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Left on his own, Mikey tries to keep the rhythm Gerard had set for him. He knows he's not any good and it makes the inside of his chest burn to think that Gerard's responses--his hips and his sounds--are all just for Mikey's benefit, so his feelings aren't bruised by failure. Unconsciously, his grip tightens as he thinks.

He is hard again quickly, even for someone of his age, and if he had any faith in his abilities, he would try to use his other hand to quench his own desire. But he's sure that dividing his attention would ruin anything he might have managed to do for Gerard, so he ignores his own want.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard's noises are growing louder, less controlled, and his head goes back, unconsciously baring his neck, the marks from where Mikey bit him before still vivid. Mikey leans forward at the invitation, sinking his teeth into the soft white flesh, drinking, and Gerard can feel him lose some of the rhythm as he sucks, pressing closer with each passing second. It makes his head spin, his hips push up into Mikey's hand once more before he comes, failing to muffle a high whimper.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey makes a small harsh sound in response to Gerard, and sucks harder, determined to...to assert himself. He's not sure why, or how, but he knows that he won't be happy unless he can make Gerard listen and obey. He snaps once more at Gerard's neck before pulling back to kiss him, pushing blood into his mouth. His hips search a little for purchase, too desperate to feel ashamed for his obviously and wanton need.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard groans at the sensation of Mikey's teeth in his neck, sliding in deeper and then back out, and he gets a mouthful of his own blood. He has to pull away for a second to swallow it before catching Mikey's lips again, overwhelmed, and he can feel his brother's rock against him, just lightly. His hands go out to Mikey's hips again, thumbing over his hipbones but not dipping lower, not until Mikey tells him to. Because in this--whatever he chooses to call it--he can acknowledge that Mikey is the one in control, and he likes that.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Gerard's hand on his hips are torturous--so achingly close to what he wants, and yet so reminiscent of everytime Gerard grabbed him by the hips to help lift him onto the courtyard wall when he was too short to manage on his own (he's grown lanky in the past year or so, stretched out long like an uncoiled rope). Mikey's hips jerk forward again and he inhales deeply, whispering against Gerard's mouth: "Touch me."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard murmurs out a shaky "Okay," before slipping a hand down to wrap around Mikey again. It's awkward, and he has to shift his hand to get a better angle, but the reactionary noise that Mikey makes spurs him on, moving quick and tight with his lips against Mikey's. There's almost no space between them, pressed together nearly hip to hip, and Gerard can feel every quiver of Mikey's body as his hand moves.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey slides both hands through Gerard's hair--still hanging down and free afte his days on the sickbed (though now Mikey is wondering if Gerard was every truly ill or just different)--and pulls him closer, bumping their foreheads and noses together so his sharp gasps and erratic breathing is warm on Gerard's face. It's even better this time; he feels less like he's about to be incinerated from within at any second, and he's more able to appreciate the slip of skin against skin.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard's own breathing is shaky, eyes opening and closing because he can't decide whether to settle them on Mikey's face or not. He twists his wrist, experimental, trying to coax a more definite reaction out of his brother. He's still unsure that he's doing things right, nervous in a way he can't quite explain, because he wants to be good for Mikey.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey groans, low and rough, hips rolling a little more rapidly in response to Gerard's new attempt. "Yes, Gee, god." He tilts his head just a fraction forward so he can pull Gerard's lower lip into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue over the almost-broken skin (there's a definite crack running across it from all the time Gerard spends biting his lip). There's a shadow of the taste of blood and it makes his stomach lurch because he's hungry, and he knows that Gerard's blood won't fill him, not in that way.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard lets out a sharp noise of encouragement, still moving his hand but trying to press closer to Mikey at the same time, feeling the sharp trace of Mikey's teeth--fangs--on his lip. There's a pain, deep in his gut, reminiscent of the three days he spent trying not to drink from Mikey. They're both hungry by now, ravenously so.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Even though it won't slake his thirst, Gerard's blood is still a treat too precious to pass by. Mikey bites down hard, and the taste of blood springing into his mouth sends him quickly over the edge. Once the aftershocks have faded, Mikey pulls back, blood staining his teeth and staining a little at the corners of his mouth and pulls his lips back in a small snarl. "I'm hungry, Gee." He still expects his big brother to provide for him and care for him, even when everything else has changed.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard smiles reassuringly, reaching out with his thumb to wipe the blood from the corners of Mikey's mouth. "I know, Mikey. I--I am too." He doesn't know what to do with the information--what do they do? Do they have to find someone else (hunt them down, like they're animals now) and drink from them, too? He doesn't know how any of this is supposed to go. "We'll figure something out, I promise. Let's just get changed, okay?"

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey nods, feeling a little more settled when Gerard casually wipes away the blood just as easily as he would wipe away pasta sauce. They're still brothers, no matter what. Stripping off his shirt and breeches (and thinking mayhap they'd done this backward), he steps into new pair, soft and black, and pulls another loose white shirt over his head. He smoothes his hands down the fabric and laces up his breeches quick and neat.

((Gonna go hang with the fam, see you later!))

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard searches through the pile before stepping out of his own clothes (they're a mess, he notes distantly) and sliding into a deep red shirt and a pair of black breeches. He tries not to watch at all as Mikey changes, but ends up glancing out of the corner of his eye. "Do you want to go home?" he asks, hesitant.

((Seeya <3))