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's rhythm stutters and he thrusts in once more before coming, staring at the look on Mikey's face because god his face is practically sin personified and it looks amazing.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey grabs Gerard by the back of the head and pulls him down to kiss him, stroking through his hair. He holds Gerard's body tight and sweatslick against his own; even though Gerard has gone soft inside him and it's more interesting than good, he's not quite ready to let him pull away.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard kisses back gently, hand coming up to cup the side of Mikey's face. "Are you--should I?" He doesn't want to move, not yet, but if it's uncomfortable for Mikey then he'll do it in a heartbeat.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine." Mikey wraps his arms around Gerard's waist, feel the bit of heat they'd created fading, holding him close, holding him in. He wiggles his hips a little, just to enjoy the feeling, and cranes his neck up to press his face into Gerard's shoulder. "Don't leave."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard nods, fingers running through Mikey's hair gently. "I won't," he promises, smiling down at his brother. "Have you thought about where you want to go? After here, I mean," he asks, quiet. "I think we can go as far as we like, but..." And then, because it's occurred to him only lately and it's been bothering him:

"And... Mikey. You were growing really fast, before. You haven't--since you changed, have you?" The unspoken does this mean we don't get older? hangs in the air between them.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Spain, maybe. I don't care." Mikey arches his back and resesttles a little on the matress to get more comfortable. He frowns at Gerard's questions--it's true, the aches he'd been having in his bones disappeared that night, and he still fits perfectly into the new clothes they bought when they left. Considering that he'd been going through breeches like the Saportas go through chambermaids...yes, something has definitely changed. "I haven't, no."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"I was thinking," Gerard explains after a pause, finger drawing spirals on Mikey's bare back, "that maybe whatever happened means we don't grow anymore. We might not even get older." We might not die. He's glad that he's older, that he can take on a position of authority, because if it's true then Mikey will be fourteen forever.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"It's so strange," Mikey murmurs, letting the rhythymic motion of Gerard's fingers soothe him, even as their conversation turns to strange, dark, and doubtlessly heretical things. "I didn't think such things were possible." That he would be fourteen for as long as he lived, forever gawky, forever on the cusp of true manhood.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Neither did I, until I thought about it, about what happened to us," Gerard admits, soft. He breathes deeply, trying not to let the thoughts that are going through his head overwhelm him--excitement and regret (regret that Mikey will have to be fourteen forever, when he doubtless wanted to grow at least enough to be an adult). "I'm sorry," he says finally.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Don't." Mikey shuts his eyes and lets his head fall to the side, bumping against Gerard's arm. He doesn't want to be fourteen forever, but he can think of far worse fates--losing Gerard chief among them. "It's not your fault, there's nothing for you to be sorry for."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Except that it was," Gerard says, looking pained. "If I hadn't bitten you, I. You wouldn't be like this." He bites his lip, hard enough to bleed, looking down at his brother. "It was my fault." And as much as he likes how they are now, the way Mikey can't stay in the sun anymore, won't ever grow taller--it hurts.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"But you didn't ask to be made like this." Mikey reaches over to tuck a long strand of hair behind Gerard's ear, then cups his jaw, thumb stroking gently over his cheekbone. "It wasn't your choice, and you, you couldn't help it. I don't blame you, Gee. I would never blame you." He plants a chaste kiss on Gerard's lips, coming away with a hint of blood on his own. "And I would rather spend forever like this with you than any day you could name without you."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard smiles despite himself, fingers tracing their way from Mikey's back to where he has a drop of blood on his lip, wiping it away and kissing where it had been. "Thank you, I. I'm glad we get to."

They pass the rest of the night in relative silence, curled up in each other, only making a move to untangle limbs when Gerard begins to feel the first rays of sunlight stinging against his back.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Their lives become a series of ships and stories. Travels (as much in the night as possible) to France, Spain, Britain, even down to the wilds of Africa. They learn, moving through the world with a practiced grace, never truly connecting, always sliding along. There's always another ship, another crew, another ocean breeze to take them somewhere they've never seen. But after nearly a century of travel, their hearts yearn once more for the sunny countryside of Italy.

Mikey stands on the deck of the ship, near the prow. The moon is bright above them, and the wind ruffles through his hair. One hundred years of travel, and he is still a youth of fourteen. The only thing that's aged are his eyes, though he sometimes hides those behind spectacle frames (these, he knows, are what he needed as a human child, and it gives him some strange comfort to wear them now). He remembers Milan, if only vaguely. He was very young when the family stopped here, to dine with friends and attend the parties that must be attended, and that was over a century ago. All of it--family, friends, and parties--have turned to dust by now. He thumbs his spectacles up his nose, mildly worried that they'll slide off and into the night-black ocean.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard comes up to stand beside him, entwining his hand with his brother's as they watch the moon. It has become a regular fixture in their lives, traveling and staying out until the dawn begins to hurt them. Gerard has seen more moons than he can count.

They don't do anything else, not in public, because they learned quickly that even a head on a shoulder could be dangerous, with the right people. The two stand in silence, looking out over the ocean. Milan is within their grasp, less than a day's journey away.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey squeezes his hand, and sighs, flicking a bit of wood off of the rail. "Soon we'll be off this godforsaken boat." The crew on this vessel was quietly (and sometimes not very quietly) unimpressed with the Way brothers--after all these years, they still held themselves with the bearings and standards of aristocrats, and sailors seemed to either be amused and consider it their duty to teach them the ways of the world, or take exception to their "airs." The latter feeling was in action on this voyage, and Mikey was sick of silently acceptin bitter looks and drunken rumblings from men he could be rid of easily.

He pretends to be peering over the edge, and bumps his hip affectionately against Gerard's. "What's Milan like?"

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard smiles, looking out into the dark waters. The far-off shape of the coastline is almost in view, flickering lights in the distance. "I haven't been there in years, neither of us have, and I'm sure it's different now. But--it's alive. That's always been the sense I've gotten," he says, darting a look around to make sure no one is watching before leaning in to kiss Mikey's neck. "I think we'll like it here."

He remembers going to Milan maybe twice, with their mother and father (long dead now, and they even chanced going to the funeral), a whole ship to just their family. The streets were a constant flurry of noise and movement, children running and adults chattering by their shops. I missed it, when we left.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey nods and exhales, melancholy from the long voyage. Even before, weeks on ships bored him immensely, and now that he's seen the world, there's little that interests him about the same people, the same water-stained wood, the same rolling waves for days on end. He's more than ready to be on land, any land, and to be back in Italy after so long will be wonderful. Familiar, somehow, even though anyone they knew is dead and their home is no longer theirs.

"I'm excited." He doesn't sound it, but it's true. He smiles a little, tired, and wishes he could wrap his arms around Gerard. This whole voyage, they've been forced to keep hands to themselves, and allowed each other nothing interesting even in the privacy of their cabin. They don't want to be keelhauled, but soon they'll be off and can do whatever they wish.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

"Good," Gerard says quietly, looking up at the dark sky. The sun is beginning to rise, dim light on the horizon, and his hand tightens in Mikey's. "We should go back to our cabin. They asked enough questions when they found us the first time." The crew have said more than a few choice words whispered between them (not knowing how sharp the hearing of either brother was) about how the Ways never come out during the daylight hours, never mind what they said when they found the two on the deck at midnight.

By noontide they'll be to Milan, he supposes, and then they can travel when they please. Freedom again.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

"Yes, you're right." Mikey gives a last wistful look to the moon, then he and Gerard retreat as silently as possible (which, for them, is a little more silent than a human could manage) back to their cabin.

They remain there until the sun is above and the sounds of the sailors' voices has faded to a vague buzz, the shouts of docking gone (A few times they had made the mistake of emerging when the boat first stopped, and were forced to wait in the blaze of the sun while ropes were tied and gangplanks laid in order to avoid arousing suspicion. Both of their skin turned angry red later, and had to be soothed with one of Mikey's myriad oils). Slipping belowdecks to the hold to retrieve their things, it should be an easy departure, until when starting back up the ladder, Gerard is bowled over by a tiny someone.

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

The tiny someone is about to make a move to keep running (and whoever it is, it moves so fast it's almost a blur) but Gerard grabs its arm before it can leave.

It's a boy, maybe twelve, with a mop of messy black hair and shining eyes. His clothes are almost immaculate except for smudges of dirt and dust along the bottoms, fancy even. He looks downright panicked, eyes darting around, trying to pull himself free from Gerard's tight grip. "I, um. I. Sorry!" Great, I'm caught.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Gerard looks somewhat amused, a almost smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, and Mikey eyes the boy, nose wrinkled a little. He's so small, even for a child, and the last vestiges of babyfat are still visible on his face. "And what are you doing here?"

He blinks, still wriggling desperately to get away from Gerard (who holds on much tighter than one would expect, based on his soft pale hands). "I'm, I. I'm just...looking for my parents." His eyes widen and spark even a little brighter with his obvious lie. "We're taking this ship, and I don't. I'm just looking for them. You can let me go now."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard nearly laughs outright. "No you're not." He's known enough--seen enough--to have a sense of when someone's lying, and the boy is a terrible liar besides, far too expressive in his face. "Either you're sneaking off the ship, and I don't think so, since we would have noticed, or you're sneaking on."

The boy's eyes widen and he stops wriggling, abruptly. "Please don't get me in trouble," he says, pleading, and Gerard isn't sure if he wants to release him or take him to some secluded corner and drink from his pretty little neck.

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

Mikey watches Gerard's face, can see the hunger there plain as day. It's not unusual, Gerard is often drawn to the small and delicate to assuage his thirst, but for some reason, the way Gerard is looking at this boy makes his jealousy flare hot and bitter. He's a little surprised; there's no reason for him to be jealous of the food. There's something about the way Gerard's hand is clenched around this soft, pretty little boy's arm makes his lip twitch, moving towards a snarl.

"Come here." He snatches the child's arm away from Gerard in the space of a blink. "We're taking you home."

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

Gerard tries to shake off the feeling, because it sounds from Mikey's tone that they're actually taking the boy home rather than using it as an excuse to find a secluded place. He isn't sure what it is, exactly, about this particular boy that makes the hunger (or something else, he wants him either way) flare up like this.

"What's your name?" he asks, trying to keep the darkness out of his tone as they lead the boy out of the ship, Mikey's hand tight on his arm.