A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Seventeen - Like A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Frank stirred and awoke not in a freezing bathtub, but in a soft bed, warm but empty on Gerard's side. He blinked hazily, everything coming slowly into focus. Gerard wasn't in the room, and he could just make out a note on the bedside table.

Yawning, he started to sit up to reach for it, and that was when his body started screaming bloody murder.

"Ow, fuck, fuck!" he exclaimed, falling back down against the mattress. Shocks of pain rippled through his spine and eventually subsided to a persistent but dull ache. That was when he remembered last night, and collapsed even more, squeezing his eyes shut. "Goddammit."

This was Gerard's fault, then again, it was Frank who had initiated it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sex sore was good, but this wasn't sex sore, this was like sex dying. Gerard fucking broke his ass, Frank wouldn't have been surprised to find out he was bleeding there, too.

Fuck, bleeding.

He cautiously peeled the covers away and chanced a look at his chest. He blinked. It was a mess of bandages, with gauze and an ACE bandage plastered onto the stab mark above his hip. Frank couldn't remember anything after they'd been in the shower last night, so assumed he had fallen asleep, or maybe blacked out from exhaustion. This was Gerard's doing, then. Frank couldn't believe that, and skated his fingers over the bandages as though to check that they were real.

He looked back at the bedside table, where the note was, and, taking a deep breath, lunged at it again, this time succeeding in grabbing it, dissolving into a mess of curses and agony against the pillows. Jesus Christ.

The note, like Gerard, was short and to the point.

out. be back @ 10ish

xG

Frank made an annoyed sound that he'd gone to so much effort to get the note and this was all it said.

Then again, Gerard probably wouldn't have left a note normally. But last night hadn't really been normal, either.

Gerard wouldn't kill him.

Frank thought that sad that that comforted him, but it did. Even if Gerard had practically killed him with the hardcore sex last night, it wasn't like Frank had been protesting that. His heart twinged uncomfortably at the memory. He'd fucking begged, hadn't he? Fuck. He had to at least make an attempt to control himself, seriously. Gerard would just take advantage of it, asshole that he was.

And yet....

The door opened, a distant squeak of hinges, and Frank tensed, unsure if it was ten or not - there were no clocks handy. He lay there, basically helpless, breathing as softly as possible, and the bedroom door opened.

It was Gerard, thankfully. Or not so thankfully.

Gerard raised an eyebrow when he saw his guarded appearance. "You scared, princess?"

"Oh, shut up."

Gerard chuckled and went to the bed, handing him a coffee. Frank eyed it before carefully taking it from him, jerking away when their fingers brushed. Something flashed across Gerard's face - a shadow, a fleeting emotion, Frank didn't know, and he didn't care.

"You know, I think that's the issue here," Gerard remarked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs and sipping his own coffee. It was all ridiculously mundane.

Frank paused. "What?"

"We need to communicate," Gerard said, still not looking at Frank and drinking his coffee.

"What are you saying here?"

"I think you need a safeword," Gerard said, shooting him a sideways look.

Frank's response was immediate. "What?! I do not fucking need a fucking safeword!"

Gerard pointedly turned his gaze to Frank's bandaged chest. "I would have to disagree."

Frank glowered at him. "That wasn't even sex. That was just you being a sadist."

Gerard looked offended. "I am not...okay, fine. But still, if this is going to work, you need one."

Frank, despite the current searing pain in his abdomen and the protests of every other part of his body, sat up and said in a low voice, "You want to communicate? Then fucking listen to me, Gerard. I'm not going to be your stupid bottom or submissive or whatever the hell you're trying to make me. And you are not going to be my top. I don't roll like that."

Gerard was grinning, though. "Who fucks who, though?"

Frank glared at him. "That's not-"

"Who said he wasn't made of glass?" Gerard asked, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Who was the one who all but pleaded for me to go harder and touch him?"

Frank's brow lowered. "I'm not like that, though. I'm not into that sort of stuff."

Gerard had a truly evil look on his face now. "Really?" he asked, leaning closer so that his lips were touching Frank's ear. "You don't like the idea of me cuffing you to the bed, licking you everywhere....hitting you, biting you, taking you to the absolute limit?" Frank tried to twist away, but only succeeded in igniting the soreness again. "We'd have so much fun, sugar," Gerard hummed, nosing at his hair. "I know you like pain." Frank exhaled hard, turning his head away and in the process exposing his neck to the other. "I know you like control, too, but so do I, Frank. I like it much more than you do, and I know what to do with it." He was smiling when he said, "Besides, a little resistance just makes it better." He started sucking on Frank's neck and that was when he lost it, almost dropping the coffee and putting it on the bedside table so as not to jeopardize it any further.

"Fuck, okay, okay!" Gerard pulled away, looking utterly smug. But Frank's eyes were focused beyond him, looking at the small brown bird on the windowsill outside. "Doves."

"What?" Gerard blinked.

"That's the word. Doves. 'Cause they stand for peace and all that."

Gerard actually looked serious now. "You're sure? You wouldn't say that normally?"

Frank scoffed. "Why would I be talking about doves during sex? If anyone had to worry about using a specific word, it'd be you, you talk too fucking much about fucking everything."

"But you love it."

Frank huffed and turned over, hoping Gerard didn't catch his quiet groan of discomfort, though of course he did.

"Aww, did I hurt you?" Gerard asked, cooing and batting his eyelashes at him. He looked way too fucking happy, and Frank was sure he was going to regret the decision he'd just made.

"Go away," he muttered, burrowing down into the sheets. Gerard was undeterred, sliding under the sheets behind him and kissing at his neck. "No, seriously Gerard. I'm fucking tired."

Gerard nestled closer, and Frank held his breath, but he didn't do anything. Frank felt too exposed, too vulnerable, completely naked while Gerard was completely clothed, but eventually he relaxed enough to lean back against him. Gerard laughed, the sound making his chest vibrate and sending weird trickles of warmth through Frank, easing the pain, somehow.

"So, what are we now?" Frank asked after his heart had beat twenty times, and Gerard's fifteen.

"Well, I'm your t-"

"Don't even say it, fucker. No. I mean, what are we? What is this?"

Gerard was still. "A relationship."

"A fucked up relationship."

"Yes."

"A relationship relationship?"

"Are you asking if I'm your boyfriend?"

Frank's face flamed. "Maybe."

"With dates and movies and flowers and chocolates and all that that entails?"

"Sure."

"Why not," Gerard mused, lacing his fingers over Frank's belly. "Might as well reward you for being my puttana piccolo."

Frank was sure there was something wrong with him when that actually made him smile, just a little.