Summertime (Frerard)

48: We'll Betray The Ones We Care About

"Frank, fuck..." The words trailed from his lips like intoxication in purest most explicit form as his back arched up from mattress: skin sheening in sweat, and hair pushed back in an explosion of the most vibrant red as everything seemed to fall apart at the same time, and I let out a string of moans at such a high pitch I really dare not recall, perhaps just for the arrogant sake of my dignity.

"Oh my god, Gee, I-" The words fell from my lips only to be cut off as he lips connected with mine and our bodies shifted, causing his hips to jerk as I accidentally slammed at just the right spot, but I held him up against my lips, taking control as my boyfriend seem to be overwhelmed in exhaustion and the need to just fucking come everywhere, and really, I had absolutely no problem regarding his desires, as I'd be a liar if I didn't say that we shared them.

"Fuck, Frankie, please, I'm so fucking close, just so, ah, fuck, I..." I only smirked as he fell back against the bed in a heap - a mess of overstimulation and pure lust. Fucking beautiful. "Please, Frankie, I just, I need, I need you. Fuck me harder, please, Frank."

"You don't even have to ask, looking like that." I moaned, slamming down into him, let him writhe as his hips bucked against his mattress. "You're so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, and all for me, oh my, Gerard, it'd be an ask to get me not to fuck you like this." And with that I thrusted into his already overstimulated body for what was rendered the last time as he threw his head back against the pillow as he came all over his chest, leaving me to come in succession, just from the sight of him, and just how tight he still felt around me.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Gerard." I exclaimed as I pulled myself out of him and threw the condom into the trash can, watching as my boyfriend amused himself with the ceiling and the lamp on the other side of the room: he was always a little dopey, like he was almost unnaturally peaceful after he'd just came, and really, when he looked as beautiful as he did, I really had no right to complain. "You're fucking perfect, you know, fucking beautiful, and fucking mine."

He chuckled a little in response, not bothering to sit up in recognition of our conversation: I knew him well enough to know he was listening anyway. "Yours, huh? Fancy that." He mused, eyes all wide as his brain still was only half functioning.

"Yeah," I added, pulling my boxers, and a pair of jeans that looked like they were Gerard's, on. "Mine." I repeated, grinning to myself as Gerard chose now that I was pulling tight jeans over my ass to sit up and stare.

"Don't put a shirt on, please." He moaned out, still somehow horny as ever, despite the fact that minutes ago, I was fucking him right through that shitty little mattress of his. "You should always just be shirtless, you're so fucking, ughh..."

"How old are you? Fifteen? You literally just came, and you've barely even recovered from that yet, fuck off." I rolled my eyes, yet obliged to his wishes, leaving myself shirtless and joining him on the bed.

"I liked you better when you were naked, to be honest, and when you didn't care that I want you to fuck me." Gerard commented, eyes wide and glassy as he simply tried to postpone the inevitability of just what would come of him and of us when he really did have to think about and possibly even accept what he'd done.

"Gerard..." I shook my head as he continued, his phone vibrating against the pillow where he'd left it, and much to his anger, I made a grab for it first - we both knew who it was anyway, and we were both fucking right. "Why don't you just fucking block the number?"

"Maybe I want to find out what the fuck's going on? Ever thought of that, Frank? Or do you have to paint me as the villain every time, huh?" Gerard snapped back, his tone changing within an instant, and I couldn't help but fall into the trap of rolling my eyes at just how defensive he'd gotten within mere seconds.