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

[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))

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"I--" Mikey pauses to think for a moment. They could go back, call the maid hysterical (have her sent away) and go back to their normal lives. But all eyes would be on them; Gerard would be expected to marry again and in a few years he would need to find a bride as well. There would be no more of this shameful thing between them. And perhaps that's what he should want, but he imagines worlds beyond the walls of the estate and the streets of town and Gerard's heat close to him. "No. I don't want to go back there."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Then," Gerard hesitates, looking around the deserted square. "Where do we go?" They have little in the way of money with them and they're known by everyone in the town besides. Even if Mikey doesn't want to go back, he doesn't want to shame their family by sleeping on the streets.

Still, the thought of just leaving, traveling anywhere they want with no one to stop them sends a thrill through him. They could go anywhere.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Just," Mikey waves a hand expansively at the nght air. "Away." He snuggles close against Gerard, one hand at the small of his back and one pressing into the softness of his belly, uncaring that anyone emerging from a cantina or shop will see them and recognize him. "Somewhere new." His stomach lurches a little and he hisses at the feel of it, digging his fingers a little into Gerard's flesh as he winces. "But first, we need to eat."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard frowns, considering, trying to keep the pain of Mikey's nails in soft flesh hidden. "Who--where do we find to eat?" He doesn't know if they have to kill the person or not, hopes not--he's heard things about what's probably 'their kind', tales of people in villages in the mountains who went mad, biting each other and killing without regard, but they're not like that, not exactly. He doesn't know what to call what he and Mikey are, but he knows it's not 'mad'.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"I thought you would know." There's a stupid kind of hurt in Mikey's voice, because there's no reason Gerard would know anything more than he does (he's only been like this a few days longer and never even left his bed in all that time) but...Gerard is his brother and he's always trusted Gerard to know what to do. He notices the way his nails are digging in and relaxes his hand, stroking a little over where he may have hurt. "Perhaps, perhaps a drunkard?" Easy to lure and overcome, and he's surprised to be thinking such things, but there's no real horror. Only mild interest in the apparent switch in his mind.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard looks half-hurt at the tone of Mikey's voice, even though there's no way he would know any more than Mikey does. He has to smile at the suggestion, though, because as book-smart as Mikey is, of course he would find the logical solution. "That would do well, yes," he says, fond, ruffling Mikey's hair. "Would we find somewhere to take one or dine in the street, do you think?"

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey smiles and leans a little towards Gerard, puppyishly proud at his approval. "It would probably be safer to go somewhere." He bends a little and leans his cheek against Gerard's chest, noticing the absence of the pulsing thump that belongs there--he's not sure if it's an affect of the change or of the things he and Gerard have done to each other, but he feels needy and starved for physical contact. "We don't want to be spotted."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"No," Gerard agrees, arm wrapping around Mikey, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "We don't." They break apart--just a little, and Gerard keeps his arm around Mikey as they walk, not caring who sees. The hunt (and Gerard can't think of any other way to describe it, hunting) is on, and they look in dark alleys and hollows in buildings for a drunkard that looks fresh but not strong.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

It doesn't take long--it's late already and time for the cantinas to empty, men leaving the warmth of ale and a grinning wench to stumble home to their unhappy wives--and Mikey is surprised at how easy it is. The man isn't tall, walking (or stumbling, rather) alone, and it's so easy to take him gently by the elbow with a smile and lead him off of the deserted side road into one of the night-blackened alleys (Mikey and Gerard find that they can see perfectly well anyway).

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

The man stumbles and falls onto the hard stone of the alleyway as soon as they let him go, picking himself up just a little to lean against the back wall. "Wha--wh.. I uh... who?" he mumbles drunkenly, shaking his head to try to focus as they draw nearer. They can hear distant chatter, people walking home on the main streets, but they have the road and alleyway all to themselves. No one to interrupt, Gerard thinks gratefully, and he makes an inviting gesture to Mikey. You want the first bite? Go ahead.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey grins and moves forward, quick and sharp. He thinks about the caresses and licking with Gerard, and knows instinctively that this is something entirely different. He grabs the man's hair with no little force, and pulls his head to the side, biting into the stretched line of his neck with no pause. It tastes different than Gerard's, duller somehow (it will be years before Gerard and Mikey actually realize how much sweeter virgins taste), but still good. The man shakes and whines a little, but nothing loud enough to draw attention to them. After several greedy mouthfuls, Mikey pulls off and twists his hand in the man's hair, offering him to Gerard.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard barely needs an invitation before he bites down on the other side, sharp. He hasn't realised just how hungry he is until now, drinking greedily with his hand in the man's hair, covering Mikey's. It feels good to do it like this, sharing what they've found, and he bites in again, after a moment pulling off and giving Mikey a chance to drink more. He, after all, had Mikey's blood, but this is the first still-human blood that Mikey has ever had.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey starts to dip his head again, then reaches out with his free hand and rests it on Gerard's head. He pushes down a little, guiding Gerard with him, so they both latch onto one side of the drunk's neck, Mikey sucking loud and messy, Gerard with just a touch more decorum. Gerard has already experienced the spreading warmth of the blood, but Mikey thrills to the heat sliding through his body, filling him to the brim.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard loves the feel of it, drinking with Mikey's face so close, so much so that if he leans his head up their cheeks brush. He lets out a low sound, sucking harder, and the drunk groans in pain, a trickle of blood from the corners of their mouths trailing down his neck. Gerard swallows another mouthful, wondering dimly just how much blood the man has in him, because he could do this forever and be content. He reaches out, takes Mikey's hand in his and squeezes, affectionate.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

It's the second most amazing thing Mikey's ever felt, Gerard so close and blood hot and heavy and good in his belly and all through his body. He squeezes back on Gerard's hand, and swallows again, throat working and working to keep taking in the blood flowing. But too soon the drunk stops even his minute struggle, and the blood goes cool and stops. Mikey pulls back and presses a curious hand against first his belly, and then Gerard's, both a little bloated. He laughs, open and happy, and rubs a little at Gerard's belly, warm under his hand.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"You're warm," Gerard says, half-surprised, and he smiles at Mikey before miming wiping his mouth. "You've still got some--" and thinks better of it, leaning forward to lick the remnants of blood from Mikey's mouth and chin, and pulls back, cheeks tinged pink. He spares a glance at the man, slumped over, face chalk-white. "Is he--"

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Dead?" Mikey says without much inflection and glances down at the man. "Yes, I think so." Gerard doesn't have any blood around his mouth, obviously much more controlled and polite than Mikey is, but Mikey mimics him, licking around his mouth and finding a tiny bit of blood lingering on his lips. "Do we go now?" He thinks of the ships in the harbor--surely one of them will be setting out in the morning, willing to accept gold in exchange for passage to a world they'd never seen.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard nods, standing up and offering a hand to Mikey to do the same. "We can get money out of the family bank tomorrow and leave," he says, after some thought. The family that runs the banks know who he is, at least, and don't tend to ask questions when they see a familiar face. They can be gone by noonday, off to anyplace they want. "We don't--at least I haven't found I need to sleep," he mentions, looking around at the deserted street. "But... do you want to find a room to stay in until morning?"

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Yes, we shouldn't stay out. Especially not by that." He wrinkles his nose at the corpse and leads Gerard by the hand back to the main road. They have to be contented with walking side by side there, for there are still people about, even at this time of night.

There are rooms for rent above many of the cantinas, and Mikey selects the cleanest looking one. Though the wench there is sitting quietly at a table when they enter, she's soon smiling with too many teeth and fawning over Gerard (Mikey still looks too young for her services). But watching her pet at his chest and touch his hair, it's all Mikey can do not to snarl.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

On some level, Gerard can almost feel the disgust from Mikey at her actions, and he pulls away, shaking his head. "No thank you," he murmurs, still playing the gentleman. "I'm not interested." He motions to Mikey and they climb the stairs together, ignoring the wench's muttering (they're two men taking a room together and Gerard showed no interest in her, it doesn't take a scholar to figure out the gist of what she's saying) as they leave.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

As they climb the stairs, Gerard is thankful that Mother never permitted him to visit the cantinas, even when his friends spent all their nights there. The wench doesn't know him--her tale of the man who took a pretty young waif up to his room, which will doubtlessly spread through the town (as these things do), will not have his name attached to it. He and Mikey could laugh at her assumption a few days ago, but now...now it's true.

For his part, Mikey can hardly contain the seething jealousy coursing under his skin, and the door is barely closed when he's grabbing fistfuls of Gerard's shirt and slamming him against it. He leans in and inhales deeply, growling low in his throat. "You smell like whore."