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Weekend Pancake Report had just wrapped filming, and one Mr. Gerard Way had already gone back to his dressing room. One of the crew members for the shoot went to look for him and see if he needed anything, and so made their way to his dressing room as well.
Not thinking to knock, they swung the door open to lock eyes with Gerard himself, who was in the middle of shoving a fork of pancake into his mouth, an absolutely enormous stack of pancakes on a plate on his knees.
He gulped the pancake bite down and averted his eyes. He was still wearing the thick rimmed glasses from the segment. “Ah... I just thought, why let all of these pancakes go to waste? So I uh…” he nervously babbled out of his sideways little mouth, then trailed off.
He had gained a lot of weight lately. Probably in no small part to his recent pancake obsession. The crew member's eyes rested on his stomach, staring at the yellow plaid tie draped over it.
Yeah... this whole "pancakes all the time" thing's helping his figure, depending on who you asked. I mean, you can't deny that he looks good with a few extra lbs.
"Can... Can I stick around?" they asked. “I could help finish off some pancakes. I couldn’t help but get a craving for them working on the bit.”
“C'mon he scoffed, this doesn't disgust you?” It was clear he’d already had quite a few from the syrup on his white dress shirt and the empty plates lying around. “The amount of pancakes I can put away at one time?” The way he said it is surprisingly sarcastic, like he’s challenging them to criticize him just so he can pull his “I don’t give a damn” card. They know he’s full of shit, just bluffing the attitude. They rolled their eyes, ignoring the question.
“Then stay, it's not like I care,” he huffed, and resumed his feast. “Help yourself, there’s plenty.”
They couldn't help but watch in awe as he set to demolishing the stack of pancakes. They blushed and averted their eyes as he quietly burped and patted his stomach.
“You're awfully quiet,” he pointed out. “What's up? You’re not even having any pancakes. I thought you were just dying to have some,” he sassed.
They weren’t about to say they were too busy admiring him. So they just lied, “Oh, just don't have much on my mind today. I guess I wasn’t as hungry for pancakes as I thought either.”
“You're awfully stare-y too. Never seen anyone eat pancakes he was just slapped in the face with for a tv show?” he joked.
“Never seen someone eat so many pancakes,” they answered truthfully.
“If it bothers you so much, leave then.” He snarled up his nose adorably.
They bit their lip. “Actually, I was kind of enjoying the show,” they finally admitted, eyes settling on his straining buttons.
He blushed at their lip biting, it was just too cute. But wait, what are they on about? “You mean you like this?” He experimentally took a huge bite and then rubbed his stomach with a soft moan.
They squirmed in their seat, flustered at how direct he was. Yeah, they were into this in a big way.
“Oh wow. You're really into this, huh? What the hell? Ok, so what if I asked you to come over here and help me?”
Hand trembling slightly, they took the fork from him and got a large piece on the end of it, then brought it to his lips.
He took it into his mouth and chewed. “Mmm, this is so good. More, please.”
More, more. And more. He finished off the stack of pancakes.
The pinkness of his stomach’s skin was just visible as it pressed against the paper-thin material of his shirt, which was made even more translucent with a thin layer of sweat. They watched it move up and down with effort as he panted. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his pants to relieve some of the pressure.
Good gracious, boy. Eyes wide, they slowly reached out their hand. If this was a cartoon, they'd be drooling, with hearts in their eyes.
“You want to feel.” He smirked. “I guess I'll do you a favor and let you.” He shifted the way he was sitting so it poked out even further, legs set wide apart, arms leaning behind him. Go on, I won't bite~
They touched the taut abdomen, gently at first, then grabbed at the flesh, and Gerard winced slightly at the fullness. “Good boy,” they told him experimentally, and rubbed his head. His hair was damp with sweat. He leaned into their touch like an animal desperate for affection and attention.
They gripped his hair, careful not to pull too hard, and kissed him roughly, with tongue. His mouth tasted of sweet maple syrup as he kissed back.
When they finally pulled away, a string of spit on their lips, they stared into each other’s eyes, breathing hard.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “This isn’t where I was expecting any of this to go when you came in here.”
“Yeah… me neither.”
“But like, not in a bad way. Obviously.”
“Yeah.... same.”
They kissed again, and they knew it wasn’t the last time.