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Gerard's nervous.
They've put on, and taken off, and put back on the outfit several times now. It's beautiful, there's no denying that much. It had been custom-made solely for them, something that once hung on the rack at a thrift store being reworked by careful, skilled hands to fit their frame. They watch in the vanity mirror as they swish from side to side, skirt following their motions. It reveals a huge expanse of thighs as they move. Something uncomfortable settles in their bones.
They're about to reach for the hem, remove the item yet again, when a knock sounds on the other side of the green room door. "Gee?" Frank's voice rings out. "Ray said you were having some trouble with your outfit. Can I come in?"
Gerard sighs. They drop the edge of the skirt, hands smoothing it over down their thighs. "Yeah," they call out despite still being apprehensive. Their stomach flips. "Just you?"
"Just me, baby," Frank reassures. "I'm coming in, okay?"
They turn around just in time to see Frank emerging through the doorway. His jaw drops immediately, eyes practically popping out of his head as he takes in the sight of Gerard. "Fucking hell," he swears. "Have you had that this whole time? Jesus Christ,"
"I...yeah," Gerard nods. They can't meet Frank's eyes, too scrutinized by his stare. Their gaze finds their white tennis shoes instead, fidgeting on the tile floor.
"Okay, what's the matter with it?" Frank asks, moving closer to Gerard. "Doesn't fit right? Stuck zipper? What do you need from me?"
They swallow. "I'm not...I'm not sure I like it."
Frank freezes, his gradual steps forward halted. "You're fucking with me," he says. It's a statement, not a question.
"I-"
"Gee," Frank says. His voice has dropped, settled deep in his chest. His eyes trail over Gerard's body, hesitating on their thighs. "You can't be serious."
"I don't know." Gerard grimaces. "It's...it's a lot of skin, you know?"
"Yeah, and you're fucking killing it." Frank insists. Another step forward has him practically chest-to-chest with Gerard. Bony, tattooed hands come to rest on their waist. Gerard can't look at him in the face. His eyes are full of love and lust, and it makes them feel a sickly sweet sort of turned on. Their teeth sink into their bottom lip. "I haven't seen you this torn up over an outfit in years. What's got you worried?"
"What if it's too much?" they sigh.
Frank raises an eyebrow. "Too much?"
Gerard squirms, trying to get away from Frank's grasp. His hold tightens, and they're forced to accept it. "I've never really worn anything like this before. Not...not on stage anyway. I don't mind wearing skirts and dresses around the house, but there's...there's a lot of people who are going to be seeing this. It's different when it's just us. I know I could never disappoint you. I don't...what if I'm not ready? What if they're not ready?"
"First of all, you know the fans will love whatever you come out in," Frank says. His hands move inward, grasping Gerard by the back of their thighs and lifting them up onto the vanity behind them. "Second of all, we've got to get you a pair of shorts. Because if I want to eat you alive in this, I can't imagine what they'll think."
"Frank," Gerard sighs, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "I...I honestly thought I'd feel prettier in this."
Frank tenses and Gerard opens their mouth to backtrack, but doesn't get a word out before Frank says "Are you joking? Baby, I don't think you've ever looked hotter. If you want me to compliment you, all you have to do is ask, fuck." Frank's eyes flicker over Gerard's face, taking in lines etched in worry and bitten lips. Realization dawns on him. "Fuck...you're serious, aren't you?"
"I, yeah, it's just...I thought it would like click for me, and it didn't. I don't know, it's dumb. We can...we can forget this ever happened."
"Abso-fucking-lutely not." Frank rebuts. It's taking all of his energy not to laugh in Gerard's face because he doesn't know what they're missing. His heart is practically threatening to jump out of his chest with how fast it is beating. Of all the outfits Gerard has pulled out on this tour thus far, this is his favorite, and it isn't even close. He wants to tear it off of them, he wants to make them keep it safe so they can wear it around the house, he wants Gerard to see what he sees.
He drops to his knees, parting Gerard's legs and settling between them. A hand immediately fists in his hair. Gerard had requested he leave it long, and he was initially reluctant, but now he's grateful because it leads to moments like this. "Don't," they say, the word falling softly from swollen, parted lips.
"Let me," Frank says. He looks up, meeting his partner's eyes. They still look nervous, unsure. "Gee, let me, please."
With a sigh, Gerard's grip on Frank's hair loosens. It's not a formal scene, Gerard's allowed to pull on Frank's hair as much as they please. But Frank doesn't tell them as much, just pushes their skirt up their thighs and leans in to sink their teeth into the flesh. His tongue runs over stretch marks, sucking a darkening hickey onto Gerard's upper thigh. He follows his hands, pushing and pulling at Gerard's thighs, with an open, wet mouth. By the time he reaches their boxers, several rounded bruises are already blooming on their skin. Frank digs his thumb into one, just to draw a high-pitched squeal out of Gerard.
Whining, Gerard lifts their hips, practically begging Frank to get his hand around them. He ignores it for now. Frank's a longtime believer in the fact that waiting for sex makes it better—Gerard has been adamantly disagreeing for years. However, as the edge of Gerard's skirt falls down over his head, he loses what's left of his patience. He can't see their face, clouded by green cotton fabric, but as he pulls their boxers down and locks his lips around the head of their cock, he knows their head is tipped back, eyes closed in bliss. They let out a deep moan, fingers tightening in Frank's hair as he begins bobbing his head.
"Fuck," they curse. "Shit, Frankie, this never gets old."
Frank desperately pushes their skirt out of the way, bunching the fabric around their hips. He looks up, doe-eyed and stupid as their eyes meet. He can't help but moan around Gerard's cock, simply enamored by the person before him. He can't believe he's lucky enough to call Gerard his. It's that thought that spurs him forward, bottoming out and blinking away tears when they arise. He doesn't want to miss a single second of this.
Unfortunately, he can't stay with his nose pressed into Gerard's pubes for long. He pulls off with a gasp, fingertips pressing bruises into Gerard's hipbones. "Fuck," they curse. "You're fucking beautiful, baby, oh my God. I can't get over it. I can't get over you."
"Frank, stop," Gerard whines. They hide blushed cheeks behind delicate hands.
Frank doesn't stop. He knows Gerard doesn't truly want him to anyway. "Lube?" he checks.
Gerard shakes their head. "My bag's in your green room."
And fuck that, because Frank is not leaving to get it right now. The angle's a little awkward, but he manages to get two fingers in Gerard's mouth as he sinks back down on their dick. Gerard moans around the digits, tongue running over inked knuckles. Spit dribbles down their chin, threatening to soak the collar of their dress. They sound, and look, downright whorish. Frank has to use his other hand to adjust himself in his pants.
Frank pulls off after feeling Gerard twitch against his tongue. He's not ready for this to be over. "Shit, baby," he says, breathless. "Look at you. Pretty girl, aren't you?"
Gerard groans. They spit Frank's fingers out. "Fucking...say that again, please."
"What?" Frank gets to his feet. "You like that? Like being my pretty little girl?"
"Fuck, yeah I do." Gerard nods. Frank surges forward, kissing them hot and heavy. Gerard's hand slides down to hold Frank by the back of his neck, pressing them closer together. Their tongues meet as Gerard licks excitedly into Frank's mouth. "Frank," they gasp against his lips. "Touch me, please, I can't."
"You can," Frank corrects. His spit-slick fingers meet Gerard's hole. His index slides in easily. It's been less than twelve hours since they've done this, pressed against one another the night before in the bus bathroom. That had gotten a hell of a complaint from Mikey and a new rule of No Sex On The Bus, something they hadn't had to specify in over fifteen years. It was impossible to keep their hands off each other in these circumstances—close quarters, minimal clothing, Gerard looking like that. Who could blame Frank for wanting to take advantage of what was finally his?
"That's a good girl." Frank praises. He thrusts his finger in and out, feeling Gerard open up around him. A second wet finger follows easily. Gerard whines, grasping desperately onto Frank's bicep. "I know you can wait, come on, be good for me."
"I can wait, but that doesn't mean I want to." they complain. "Come on, Frankie, please."
"I'm not trying to hurt you." Frank shakes his head. His fingers crook upward and Gerard immediately forgets anything they were complaining about. Their legs lift to wrap around Frank's waist, pulling him closer and silently begging him to do that again. He does, rubbing gently over their prostate and soaking in the moans they let out. Maybe it's in his subconscious, but he swears there's an air of femininity about the sounds, about Gerard in general now, that was not there before. Pulling back, he lets a line of spit fall from his mouth to Gerard's hole, aiding the glide as he works in a third finger.
Gerard shakes their head. "Don't need it." they insist.
Frank tuts. "Yes, you do. Just relax, okay? I'm gonna fuck you, I promise."
"Fuck me faster." Gerard groans. Frank rolls his eyes, leaning forward to kiss Gerard as he scissors his fingers inside. It keeps them quiet for a moment, a warm pair of lips and tongue on theirs distraction enough for Frank to continue working them open. He's not that well-endowed, could probably fuck Gerard after two and be fine, but it's not a risk he's willing to take. He knows their tolerance for pain is pretty damn high, that they like it even, but he's always worried about doing some sort of damage he can't take back. Having to abstain from sex with Gerard as a result sounds undesirable, so he takes time to carefully prep them to avoid that.
It doesn't last long. Gerard forces their mouths apart, whining desperately and bucking his hips back onto Frank's fingers. "Please, I'm ready, I promise. Need you so bad, please, Frankie."
"Sh, baby doll," Frank shushes, kissing the corner of their mouth as they pull out. "I'm gonna fuck you, it's okay. Hop down for me." Frank's hands pull at Gerard's hips until their feet hit the floor. He turns them around, pushing their chest down flat against the vanity and meeting their eyes in the mirror. "I want you to see how beautiful you look getting fucked. Fucking stunning, God."
"Shit, Frank." Gerard curses. "That's fucking hot as shit. Fuck me, please, wanna watch."
"Better keep those eyes open," Frank says. It's the only warning Gerard gets before Frank spits into his hand, slicks himself up, and pushes into them. They're somehow still tight after all this time, and it makes Frank groan. "Fuck," he curses. "You feel so good, baby."
Gerard's eyes close as soon as Frank bottoms out. They can't help it. It feels too good, the pleasure all-consuming. The numerous emotions swirling through them are too much to keep up with, and they need to reduce some of the stimuli. As soon as their lids flutter shut, Frank fists a hand in their hair, forcing their head upward. Gerard's eyes fly open, meeting Frank's in the mirror. "I thought I told you to watch." he chides, disappointed.
"Fuck, sorry, sir," Gerard says, the title slipping out unintentionally. Frank doesn't comment on it, simply uses the rush of horniness it gives him to drive his hips forward into a steady rhythm. Gerard curses. They watch in the mirror as their skirt flares around their body. With every snap of Frank's hips, the fabric jostles, a rush of air sliding over their ass. Their gaze is transfixed on the point where their bodies touch, watching as muscular thighs tense with each drive forward into their body.
"What a pretty girl you are." Frank praises. "Love this fucking dress on you, fuck. You're gonna have to wear this more often. Makes me want to fucking rip it off of you."
"Don't do that," Gerard shakes their head. "No, this was expensive. I have cheaper ones you can tear up, just not this one."
Frank rolls his eyes. Gerard's ability to form coherent sentences means they're not fully gone, and therefore, means he's not doing his job. He readjusts his grip on their hips, surely leaving behind bruises to match those on their thighs. A slight shift in angle gives him additional leverage as he increases his speed. Gerard's lips fall apart, whiny, girlish moans escaping.
"Shit," they gasp. "Frankie, fuck."
Their hand scrambles for leverage on the vanity. Frank removes one of his from Gerard's waist to lace their fingers together. Gerard's squeeze is instantaneous, and it makes him smile. "You see yourself, baby girl?" he hums. "So gorgeous for me, aren't you?"
There's a slight grimace on Gerard's face, but it quickly fades when they actually look themselves over in the mirror. Frank's right, they do look good. Their hair is disheveled, falling over their eyes. Parted lips, red from their own teeth and Frank's tongue, look feminine to their own eyes. Combined with the way the dress accentuates their curves and Frank's grip on their hip, it's easy to believe they are a girl. A pretty girl, just as Frank had said.
"Yeah," Gerard nods. "Fuck, I look good."
"Damn right, you do." Frank enthusiastically agrees. "You fucking feel good, too, shit." He lets go of their hip, reaching around to start pumping their dick in time with his thrusts instead. Gerard cries out. Their eyes plead to squeeze shut, but they resist, meeting Frank's gaze in the mirror.
"I'm not gonna last," they warn.
"You cum for me whenever you're ready, pretty girl." he smiles, eyes locked in the reflection. "I've got you, princess. Don't you worry about a thing, okay? I've got you."
A few more hard thrusts into Gerard's prostate and Frank's thumb pressing into the sensitive spot under their tip is all it takes. He has half a mind to move the skirt fabric out of the way, and barely manages to wrangle it up under Gerard's stomach before they're cumming. A cry echoes off the walls, rattling around in Frank's head as he drives his hips forward like a madman. Three pulsing squeezes around his cock and Gerard's own twitching in his hand send him over the edge. He collapses against them, teeth in their neck as he spills deep inside.
Gerard is squirming when Frank comes back to his senses. Writhing with oversensitivity, they push gently at Frank's hip in an attempt to get away. Frank kisses their neck, soothing over the new hickey he's just made, and squeezes their hand in sympathy as he slides out. "Sorry, baby," he murmurs.
"Fucking don't be." Gerard shakes their head. "That was incredible, oh my God."
Frank smiles. Carefully, he spins Gerard around, leaning them back against the vanity so they can face each other. "You feel better about it yet? Or do I need to prove it to you again?"
"God, no." they giggle. "You're right, I look fucking hot."
He leans down, placing a chaste kiss on their cheek. "My gorgeous girl," he compliments. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and find you some shorts. The fans are going to absolutely lose their minds over this one."
Gerard giggles. "Round two after the show please?"
Frank rolls his eyes. "Only if you're good," he says.