Poison (Frerard)

Backseats

It was another busy night at Inferno, and Gerard was kept busy serving drinks after he performed for the night. Frank almost missed his performance, the redhead performing extra well after he noticed the tattooed man's presence. They briefly spoke when Gerard delivered drinks to a nearby table, Frank slipping him a twenty for his performance and arranging for them to meet at their usual place. Gerard eagerly agreed, impatient for a good fuck after all the sub-par clients he'd been with since their last night together.

"What's this guy's name anyways?" Ray asked him when he returned to the bar, the stripper drifting behind the counter and pretending to work so he wouldn't get chastised by Pete for slacking off again.

"Frank," Gerard replied simply, helping the bartender mix drinks.

"No last name?" Ray asked amusedly, prying for information.

"If you must know, it's Iero," Gerard sighed dramatically, grinning at his wild-haired friend.

"Is he some type of businessman or something?" Ray continued his inquiry, genuinely curious.

"He works for a record label," Gerard replied off-handedly, paying more attention to the cocktail he was making. "Where'd this sudden interest come from, anyways?"

"He's become a regular client of yours; you know I always get nosy about your regulars," Ray said, filling up a server's tray with drinks and sending him on his way.

"I haven't had a regular in a long time," Gerard said absentmindedly, not directly talking to Ray. "It's kind of nice knowing what to expect."

Ray chuckled at him, crouching down to get more glasses from the chilled shelves. "Hey, you don't know what it's like sleeping with strangers every night who all have different preferences and mannerisms," Gerard chided, his tone lighthearted.

"How different can they really be?" Ray asked skeptically, shrugging his shoulders. "And what makes this Frank guy so special?"

"Trust me, Ray, there are all types of clients out there. Some are a pain in the ass--literally--and others are just dull," Gerard replied, continuing to speak as he filled a server's order. "Frank's just different; he pays really well, and he's actually good in bed."

"How do you manage, man? I don't think I could stand all the sleazy guys and horrible sex, no matter how much you paid me," Ray chuckled, Gerard amusedly shaking his head at him.

"It's not as bad as I make it out to be. I'd still prefer it to some office job where I'm stuck in a cubicle for tens hours a day," Gerard replied, sipping vodka straight from the bottle.

"The only problem with actually having a good client is I sometimes expect the others to be more like him and end up disappointing myself," he added, slightly annoyed with himself at this new habit.

"Shit, here comes Pete," Ray said quickly, deciding it better to warn the redhead than respond to his statement about comparing clients. Gerard rushed out from behind the counter. "Maybe you should get back to serving." Gerard nodded and picked up his tray, heading out into the crowd of people.

-----

"Hey, dollface," a man lustfully said as Gerard passed, smacking the redhead's ass.

"What can I do for ya, sugar?" Gerard replied sultrily, pushing away his slight disgust for the man's casual classification of him as nothing more than a sex object.

"I'm up for a good fuck," the man replied with a smirk, his brashness surprising the redhead a little.

"Then I'm the one you're looking for," Gerard whispered in his ear, briefly sucking on his neck before standing back up.

"I know we can't in the club, follow me to my car," the man said, awkwardly standing to his feet. He walked slowly and with wide knees, probably due to the bulge in his pants.

'Really? In his fucking car?' Gerard thought annoyedly, barely maintaining the facade that he actually wanted to fuck this stranger in the back of his car.

The man climbed into the backseat and dropped his pants, opting to keep the rest of his clothes on. Gerard followed suit, slipping his lacy panties down his legs. "Do you have a name, sugar?" Gerard asked as the man searched his glove compartment, pulling out a condom and a bottle of cherry lube.

"Quinn," he replied quickly, squirting lube onto his fingers. He prepped the redhead for barely more than thirty seconds before he was thrusting in, the stripper biting his lip and hissing in pain. The sting faded soon enough, the client not even noticing Gerard's discomfort, or not caring at all if he did.

Gerard faked moans, the sounds exaggerated like in porno movies and nothing genuine about them. He gasped the man's name, knowing from past experience that most clients tended to love that. Quinn was soon grunting and finishing, pulling out of the redhead with an exhausted sigh. Gerard pulled his underwear back on almost immediately, Quinn catching his breath before pulling his pants back up. He pulled his wallet from his pocket and gave the stripper the $150 he owed him.

"Thanks, sugar. I hope you come around again soon," Gerard purred before stepping out of the vehicle, walking quickly through the parking lot. The cool night air made goosebumps on his skin, his skimpy clothes definitely not enough to keep him warm in this chilly weather.

Ray gave him a questioning look when he returned, wondering where is friend had disappeared to. "Pete was looking for you earlier," he said, warning the redhead of his possible future scolding.

"What'd he want?" Gerard asked, deciding he would definitely take a shower before he met Frank--the scent of Quinn's cheap cologne still clung to his body.

"Something about scheduling for next week. I think he just wanted to plan when you'll be performing," Ray replied, wanting to ask about his brief disappearance but not wanting to pry.

"I'll go find him myself. If I'm not back within a half hour, you can assume I'm getting another lecture about not working hard enough," the redhead said lightheartedly, making Ray laugh.

He weaved his way between tables, doing his best to avoid needy customers. He slipped up the stairs next to the stage and disappeared behind the curtains, making sure to knock before he entered his boss's office.

"I heard you were looking for me," he said calmly, though his hands shook from nervousness and the low dose of drugs still in his system.

"I wanted to schedule your performances next week, but apparently, you had other things more important than your job," Pete said, frowning angrily.

"I was with a customer. You know we can't actually fuck in the building or the police will come after you with prostitution charges again..." Gerard appealed, Pete's expression softening a little. "Here, this is your cut of it." He placed a wrinkled fifty on the desk, Pete looking at it for some time before waving his hand dismissively.

"What the hell, just keep it," he replied, an apologetic smile on his face. "You know I have to assume the worst, especially since Brendon is always slacking off or quitting early."

"It's fine, Pete. I'd probably do the same if I were in your shoes. You're a great boss, honestly," Gerard said gently, retrieving the money from his desk.

"Thanks, G. Now let's just get this schedule out of the way, and you can get back to work," Pete said, grabbing his clipboard and listing off available shows.

Gerard sighed and helped him make the schedule, watching the clock out of the corner of his eye and anxiously waiting for his shift to be over.

~~~~~~

Ayy I don't really know what happened with this chapter. I originally had a plan, and now it's this but whatever I still like it. Also, sorry it's kinda short and disjointed, I wrote this all at once in less than an hour...

Thanks for reading!

-Bren

*the character Quinn is Quinn Allman of The Used, just fyi*
*next chapter will be pretty long and it'll probably be up tomorrow*