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]

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.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"I need." He bites his lip, still a little unsure about asking, what his boundaries are in the harsh light of the sun. "I want to touch you. While we go out there. So I know." He knows it's a terrible thing to ask of Gerard, that all the hateful smirking eyes will turn on him, the dark names and gossip will be about the handsy dark-haired man, not the wide-eyed young thing (what a shame, what a shame, filthy the perversions his type get up to).

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Touch me? You mean, like--how?" Gerard can barely think back to the last time he asked such a thing without his head spinning. Do you mean like that? Is that really something that it's okay to do in public? He blushes faintly at the thought, half-wondering if maybe he's just reading the situation wrong and Mikey means something else entirely (an arm around his waist, maybe)

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"I don't care." Mikey presses against Gerard, molding himself against the line of his body. He doesn't know how long it will be before he can do this, and more, do what he really wants to. He frowns, hand fiddling absently with the back of Gerard's breeches. "I just need to feel you."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard shifts toward Mikey, pressed against him, and takes a deep, shaky breath before nodding. "Okay, I. We can do that." He takes Mikey's hand, winding it around his waist so they're pressed side to side. "Is like this good?"

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey flexes his hand a little, digging his fingers a little into the softness at Gerard's side. He nods, slow. It will have to do. He craves something more drastic, an inescapable sign that Gerard is no one else's, but it's not practical. Dressed and ready to face the world, they leave the room and start down the stairs.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

As they descend the stairs, they can practically feel all of the eyes on them--hushed whispers among the men and women at the tables, furtive glances in their direction, and the cantina is abuzz with noise. Gerard keeps his eyes trained to Mikey instead, not wanting to see the disapproving looks and the gossips looking for scandal.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey refuses to look around, because he'd only snarl at the whisperers (sinful, horror, filthy, boy-lover) and that would get them nowhere. The tale will be bandied all throughout town by noontide, he's sure, and he can only pray that most of the patrons here (low class, working class) don't recognize them--excited as he is to get away, he would like to spare Mother that one last indignity. He leads them out and into the bright light--it's almost too much, and his hand turns to a claw in Gerard's side, as he winces at the heat of the sun on his face.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard winces as well, sharp pain going through him at the brightness of it, and he covers Mikey's hand on his waist with his own, squeezing. "We need to get inside soon," he says, urgent. "I don't think this can kill us but it hurts." Fortunately, they're close enough to the bank that it won't take them long to get there. "Hurry."

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey nods, and the walk to the bank is quick but painful. The sun makes him feel like the inside of his head is coming apart, but as soon as they're into the cooler shadows of the bank, he feels calmer and better. He waits near the entrance while Gerard goes to retrieve their funds--both of them together could be suspicious, especially if Mother has sent servants asking after them.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard strides up to a familiar worker, confident. He doubts that Mother has sent anyone yet, it's still early in the morning and they only left the previous night, so he's not surprised when his request for money is met with no opposition and a single nod.

Five minutes later, he walks back to Mikey, grinning, holding a bulging bag of coins. "We'll be fine," he says, bright, and then, a little lower, "Let's go find a ship and get on, before they start leaving." He doesn't want to give any information that others can hear, assuming (and rightly so) that they'll be asked about, and soon.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey nods briefly and they're off again--the walk down to the harbor is harder. It's a longer distance, and though they try to stick to the shadows of buildings as much as possible, there are still long painful patches of sunlight. But still, passing the houses and shops they've seen every summer growing up, the reality that they'll be leaving it all behind is both thrilling and strange.

It's not difficult to tell which ship is leaving--it's abuzz with sailors, scurrying around on ropes and rolling barrels. Mikey lets Gerard lead him aboard--after all, he's still fourteen, no matter how old he suddenly feels, and no one is about to take him seriously.