lizhanne | Keep it all going, Gerard/Frank, R

lizhanne

Title: Keep it all going
Rating: R
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Author’s notes Thanks, as always, to

restriction for the wonderful beta job, and to

sourcream_onion and

pettymoth for their invaluable help.
Disclaimer: Lie: an assertion of something known or believed by the speaker to be untrue with intent to deceive.

Even after washing, Gerard thinks he can still smell his scent on his hand. Biting an apple, droplets of juice trickle down his fingers and he licks them away, breathing in the musky scent mixed with the fresh, tangy one of the apple. He smiles.

*

Frank has freckles on his nose. They’ve probably been there for quite a long time, but Gerard notices them only now in the soft light of the room, early morning light, the white draperies on the hotel window taking the edge off it.

Gerard tries to count them, a futile exercise in devotion, while he waits for Frank to wake up. There are some on his neck, too. Gerard can see them peeking from under the clean sheets they welcomed as a blessing the night before, now tangled across their bodies.

They have - he has - been living for moments like this lately; rare pearls of quiet, a shared room, a quiet night, sleeping together chest to back, sharing warmth. They’re not enough, they never can be, but the memories make Gerard smile when he’s alone, and in the long days when they can touch but can’t have any peace.

Frank shifts next to him and Gerard curls up behind, one arm gently snaking across Frank’s chest. Up close, Gerard counts the freckles on Frank's neck until he falls asleep.

*

Lights, sweat and screams, Ray next to him, droplets of sweat flying from his hair. The shimmering lights turn them into diamonds.

Something soft and vibrant and damp against his leg; Frank is kneeling next to him, never missing a beat, as if his hands lived independently from his body. Frank’s mouth travels up his leg, sweat against sweat, and Gerard swallows as their eyes meet. The crowd roars for him, and – later, he thinks. Later. Hoping there will be white sheets again tonight.

A joke, screams fill the roof and Frank goes back to his corner, smirking.

*

Teeth, tongue and a tangle of limbs. Unable to believe their good luck in finding a decent motel for the night they stumble in the room, clothes still sticky with sweat, the high from the concert slowly edging out. They nearly fall on the bed, but from the corner of Gerard’s vision something flashes white, and he notices the sheets: clean, perfect, looking almost a bit starched.

Reaching under the hem of Frank’s t-shirt, damp and hot from his skin, he removes it in one fluid gesture, fingers brushing lightly against ink.

“Shower. Now.”

Frank, even as tired as he is, is not hard to convince and a minute later they’re both naked in the small shower stall, Gerard already on his knees, taking Frank in his mouth. Hot under cold water, Halloween splayed on the tiles, short hairs under Gerard’s slippery, wandering fingers.

Every sensation is eerily clear and whirling away in a hurry at the same time, and it could be seconds or hours later when they’re on the bed.

Frank under him, around him, curled up against him.

Hair still damp, Gerard wraps the both of them in the white sheets, hands snaking to rest on Frank’s belly, his nose buried in clean, cheap shampoo.

*

Gerard is tired and content, pleasantly exhausted. As he licks one more drop of apple juice from his hands, he looks up and catches Frank watching him, eyes fixed on his fingers, while the others chat and ask them where the fuck they had disappeared to right after the concert. No answer seems to be as good as any other reply to the guys, who roll their eyes and resume the chatter. Frank’s eyes are still on him. Gerard thinks of white sheets and side streets, and smiles.