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 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."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard inhales sharply, tense as he's pressed against the door. "Not my fault," he points out, but it comes out weak. And then, a split second later (before he can even process he's said such a thing), "It won't be long before I smell like you instead." He leans forward, face inches from Mikey's, practically daring his brother to close the gap between them.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

There's a quick spark of heat and amusement that slips up his spine, but Mikey doesn't let it show on his face. Instead, he ignores Gerard's invitation and releases him, stepping away. His eyes are dark and scorching when he leans back, crossing his arms in a pose of authority. "Get on the bed."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Though Mikey is different, changed, it's still rare enough to Gerard to hear him giving orders that he obeys without question, heat going through him at Mikey's tone. "What should I do?" he asks, sitting on the bed, feet dangling over the edge. He looks back at Mikey, curious and more than a little anticipatory.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey doesn't answer him, just walks over and pushes at him until he's lying on his back. He crawls up until his thighs are bracketing Gerard's, and pushes Gerard's shirt up, untucking it from his breeches, until it's rucked up under his arms. He traces his fingers, delicate and feather light, over Gerard's belly--just the slightest bit rounded and swollen from their earlyier meal--then buries his face in it, teeth scraping and snapping, definite without breaking the skin. It's a clearly animal display of dominance--he could rip the softness apart if he wanted. He won't, it's Gerard and he isn't really an animal, he won't. But he could. Gerard has to know he could.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard arches up into the touch desperately, letting out a low whine as Mikey's teeth scrape across his stomach, just high enough that it's only a tease. He knows--is fairly sure he knows--that Mikey won't hurt him, but in a position like this he could do it, easily. He wants to urge Mikey's mouth lower, a sharphot thought of maybe with his--on my-- but doesn't know how to ask for it, what to call it.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey looks up at him, chin resting on Gerard's stomach, and smiles slow and smooth at the need written all through his brother, from frame to face. There's a brief, sick feeling in his gut, and he frowns a little bit. "This is...if I wasn't here, you wouldn't..." He can't bring himself to say it, doesn't really know how--for all he heard Father rail about the lowlifes and whores and scum (until Mother would hush him) he isn't entirely sure what it entails. But he knows it's something hotgood like this, and he wants to know, be sure, that Gerard knows this is only for the two of them from now on.

(stealthing until I'm physically dragged away, which will probably be in about 5 minutes...)

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Mikey, I've never--" and Gerard has to blush as he admits it, admits to his own total inexperience, "you know, with anyone else, I mean. Not even kissing except for at--at my wedding. Of course I wouldn't." He wonders, distantly, if Mikey is still jealous of the way the wench fawned on him, that he's convinced his brother has somehow gotten ahead of him, done more in the ways of the pleasures of the flesh. "It's us, okay? You and me."

(eexcellent)

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

I know, Mikey wants to say. I know, but still. Still, you're older and even if you don't really know things, I'm afraid I'm not enough. But he just tilts his head down again, kissing the white-pale warmth and mumbles "Good" against him, lips sliding and breath warm against the sensitive skin. "I want that. I want...I want more." But I don't know how, I've spent so much time with my nose buried in the past, I don't have the faintest idea how to please you. And I want to.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"I don't know how to," Gerard says, biting his lip. "I don't know what more is, I." He doesn't know what to do, wants to be good but doesn't have the knowledge behind it--and none of his friends ever talked about what two men could do, not even when they told each other secrets. It's completely unexplored territory, for both of them. "I... maybe without-- without clothes?" he suggests haltingly.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey nods, and slides his hands up Gerard's sides to reach where he'd pushed his shirt up before. He helps Gerard pull it over his shoulders and head, then leans back and slips out of his own, hanging both carefully on one of the bedposts. Reaching down, he fits his hand over the laces of Gerard's breeches, letting it rest, fingers playing lightly over the scratchysoft leather and smiling.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard almost hisses at the intensity of being pressed skin-to-skin like they are, fingers moving to undo Mikey's laces with a smile. He's not going to lie and say he isn't scared out of his mind (he is, he's doing all of this blind so he figures he has a right to be nervous) but it's comfortable not having any worry of someone walking in on them.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey had half-hoped that once they rid themselves of their garments, some kind of divine inspiration may come to them. Well, considering that he's looking for help to seek pleasures of the flesh with his brother, perhaps "divine" inspiration is not the best option, but something. Unfortunately, he finds himself just as confused and frustrated as he was before, only bared to the distinct coolness of the air. He forces himself not to think of his gawky angles and instead focus on Gerard.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard slides out of the rest of his clothes and pulls Mikey closer, until every inch of them is pressed together. He still doesn't know what to do, even now, but he shifts upward experimentally, pressing his hips to Mikey's like they did back in his room.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey gasps, entire body faltering over Gerard's. For someone who knows practically as little as he does about the world of flesh, Gerard's instincts astound him. Like the first time, back in the sickbed, but skin on skin makes it so much better. Mikey bucks a little with his own hips in response, hoping it's good.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard whimpers, high in his throat, and pushes back against Mikey, hands winding around Mikey's back to pull them closer together as they move. The feeling is shocking in its intensity, even with little heat between the two of them.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

It's too much for both of them, spent from the change in the sickbed, their subsequent release at the tailor's and the feeding. It's more sensation than either have ever felt in their lives, and after they both come, they curl in around each other in the bed, arms and legs entwined, sharing the precious little warmth they have. Not sleeping--they don't seem to need it any longer--but still and quiet.

The sun returns quickly, and Mikey scowls when it touches his back. It doesn't burn, exactly, but it makes the space behind his eyes ache. He grumbles, but rises, because today they leave. The world lies out there, and he and his brother will finally see it.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard yawns and stretches, looking up at Mikey with bright eyes. "Good morning, I think," he says, leaning over the edge of the bed to see if he can find his breeches, finally snagging one leg of them and pulling them up to himself. "We should get going soon."

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Yes." Once he's dressed, shirt tucked in and breeches laced up tight, Mikey allows himself to lean over Gerard, burying his nose in his hair and closing his eyes. He's not ashamed of what they've done, what they are, but he knows all eyes will be on them when they leave, and here in the daylight, he's not sure how well he'll be able to restrain the vicious jealousy that seems to have taken hold of him. A scene in the middle of the cantina would be disastrous--they need to be as unobtrusive as possible if they want to be on the next ship from the harbor. "Tell me you're mine, Gee."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard leans against Mikey, body pressed against his brother's side. "When have I ever been anyone else's?" he asks, as though it's obvious. "Of course I'm yours." He reaches out and rubs the small of Mikey's back, moving his hand in comforting circles.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"I don't--" Mikey clenches his fist a little bit, exhaling heavily while he forces himself to speak. The movement of Gerard's hand is nice, but it can't unknot the tension curled heavy and unsettling in his gut. "I don't want them to look at you. I don't want any of them to see you and think that they could have you. I can't handle that." He doesn't know where the urge comes from, but it's there, hot and definite in every muscle. Gerard is his.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Hey." Gerard's hand stops its motion and he turns, looking at Mikey. "Mikey, look at me. Hey." He pauses, trying to gather his thoughts before saying, "They will not have me. They cannot have me. You can. Look at them and know that." He's afraid of the kind of jealousy he sees, afraid of what Mikey could do to all of those people if it gets overwhelming.