The Elite Club Of People Who've Seen Gerard Way Naked.

7: And Then What?;)

It wasn't a crush, per say, but Gerard had been forced into doing the washing up by his mother, and he was smiling - needless to say, he was thinking about Frank.

But it wasn't a crush, because he wasn't thinking about Frank smiling or being 'cute' or anything else sufficiently pathetic; Gerard was thinking about Frank Iero fucking coming all over himself while thinking of him.

It wasn't a crush.

It was an affliction, lust, or something, because those were the feelings Gerard had, and not, fucking pathetic ones.

He didn't even get all fucking gooey over Bert, or at least when they were dating, even with the four fucking year relationship, he could never quite achieve head over heels love, but there was no denying the fact that his heart was beating a little faster as he stood washing the plates.

However, he still wasn't entirely sure as to whether that was do with some bullshit lovey chemical in his brain, or just the extra blood needed in his dick right now, because fuck, Frank Iero coming was hot, and Gerard needed to finish the washing up right the fuck now so he could go and jack off for at least twelve years, which was a great idea in Gerard's mind, after all, it wasn't the only amazing idea of Gerard's that lasted twelve years, was it?

The nineteen year old cursed his mother for not just buying a goddamn dishwasher, like he chimed in with a haven't you people ever heard of buying a goddamn dishwasher? However both Mikey and his mum were out, and that was exactly why he'd been lumped with dishwashing duty, so they didn't hear him, which was probably a good thing, but whatever.

Gerard finished a few more dishes, before going 'fuck it' because he was nineteen and super mature and why the fuck would his mum possibly insist that he actually helped around the house for once in his life? Like oh my god, so unfair! 

However, by the very moment he had his bedroom door locked behind him, Gerard was thinking about a whole lot more than the washing up and his mother, Jesus Christ he definitely was not thinking about his mother as he fell back against his bed and shrugged his jeans off, cursing them for being fucking skin tight, and then later cursing emo culture for making him even want to wear this shit, but he looked good in skinny jeans and everyone fucking knew it.

With the jeans off and lying in a heap on the floor, he soon had his right hand around his dick, already half hard, because insane thoughts of Frank Iero did that to a guy, fuck, he- Frank didn't even know what was happening right now as Gerard bucked his hips up into his head - so fucking close and he'd barely even started yet; he'd be ashamed, if he was anything but incredibly fucking turned on right now.

He let out a strained moan, fisting the sheets with his left hand as all kinds of thoughts flooded his head, and fuck, Frank, Frank needed to know he was thinking about him like this, because this wasn't something Gerard did for everyone, and goddamn, Gerard needed to fuck that guy and he needed to fuck him right now.

And that was exactly how Gerard found his cellphone on the pillow beside him, on speakerphone and dialling Frank, but never fast enough as Gerard attempted to slow the movement of his hand, just in the hopes of lasting long enough for Frank to at least pick up, because fuck- but fuck, he needed this, and he seriously reckoned he hadn't been this turned on in forever, and surely that meant something, but Gerard wasn't exactly in the position to contemplate the meaning of his entire fucking life right now.

"Hello? Gerard?" And that fucking voice. Fuck. Gerard found himself responding with nothing more than a choked, half muffled, desperate kind of moan. "Are you- okay? Ge- oh my god, you- you, you're not, I-"