Oneshot. Just a concert with mucho Frerard. The rating is for language and not-so-implied sexual...ness.
I bang my head to the beat, chords blaring from my guitar, as the concert progresses. There are only two songs left, and there has been NO Frerard action. None. It’s quite upsetting. Though the backstage stuff is always better, considering we can be much more…intimate, what we do in front of the audience is still tons of fun. It’s playful and spontaneous and just, I dunno, awesome. And no one tells us to ‘quiet down’. Ever.
Alright. I have come to a decision. Gerard is going to be a part of something involving me whether he wants to or not. At the moment he’s strutting around the stage with a hot pink boa draped over his shoulders, the lyrics to ‘Guys Like Us’ pouring out of his mouth. He’s so fucking cute.
I’m sick of being ignored. I make my way to center stage. Gerard turns his head slightly in my direction as I approach, but doesn’t stop his act. He is currently pretending his boa is a rope with which he is being hanged for the line, “I’ll swing from a rope if you dare.” He raises his eyebrows, clearly a bit confused. I smirk. He turns back to the audience.
“Life is but a—” he stops singing abruptly as I grab his head and lick him up his jaw line, from his chin to his temple. He leans into the provocative touch for a moment, before playfully shoving me away and walking in the opposite direction. He commences singing.
“—I won’t go down by myself…”
I smile, satisfied, and amble over to my side of the stage.
But Gee’s not done with me.
I see him coming towards me out of the corner of my eye. He is clearly seeking revenge. I get down on my knees, lest he be considering tackling me. I already fell off Bob’s drums during “Helena”…possibly injuring myself again is not an appealing concept to me at the moment. But my new position doesn’t deter Gee; he just continues to close the gap between us. Once at my side, Gerard uses the hand that’s not clutching the mic and uses it to shove my face into his crotch. He’s already getting hard.
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t enjoy this immensely. But this is the worst form of torture for me, because I simply cannot deny Gerard what he wants. And, in addition to the sense of inferiority and need to serve that overcomes me when he acts this way, I lose all sensibility when I’m horny. And damn am I getting mad horny. But who can blame me? My boyfriend’s holding my face to his boner, with nothing separating my lips from it but a thin pair of black skinny jeans. How could you not be turned on by that? Well unless you’re a phobe, in which case get out. I don’t wanna hear it.
Just to review, my sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ is greatly altered when I’m in situations such as this. Therefore, I react to Gerard the only way my body currently knows how: I don’t let him leave. I stop playing just long enough to be able to put my guitar between his legs in an attempt to keep him where he is.
He ends the song with a, “whoa!” Somehow, the audience manages to scream louder than they were during the song. Fangirls never cease to impress me.
“NEW JERSEY!” he bellows into the mic, still holding my head to his rather stiff member. I squirm a bit—my own arousal is getting quite difficult to ignore—but he disregards this. “We’ve got one more song for you! And I think you motherfuckers are gonna like it!” Ray started playing “I’m Not Okay” to the great joy of the audience.
To both my relief and dismay, Gerard lifts the leg I’m holding up and out of my lock and walks away. Now I’ve got a bit of an issue. I can either remain on the ground for this song and avoid showing my painfully obvious erection to the audience, or I can get up and be photographed like nobody’s business. The problem with the first option, though, is that I’m not exactly a fan of holding still, and that would mean staying in the same position for several minutes.
Oh fuck it. I’m getting up. It’s not like the fans don’t know about our relationship. I stand and just rock the hell out. I run towards the back of the stage, flailing my guitar everywhere and getting way into it in an attempt to forget about my erection. After two or three minutes I realize I have to be at a mic. I run back to my place onstage and get there just in time, but end up screaming…well, certainly not ‘trust me’ into that mic:
“But you really need to listen to me…cuz I’m telling you the truth I mean it ever so much that I AM—”
“I’m not okay…”
Apparently, in the heat of the moment, the first thing that came to mind was…wow. I am so the bitch in this relationship. I look over at Gee. He’s grinning from ear to ear. As if he can sense my gaze, he turns his head towards me. Feeling very confident all of a sudden, I wink at him. His smile widens even further, and he begins once more to make his way over to me. He’s gonna fucking embarrass me. Once he was next to me again, he put an arm around my shoulders. The song was almost over.
“I’m not okayyy,” Gerard sang, ending the concert. He gives the audience a chance to die down, then screams, “How the fuck cute are me and Frankie! Are we not the fucking hottest couple you EVER SAW?!” The crowd’s roar is so loud I fear for my hearing. “Ooo, kinky,” Gee purrs in a response to the audience. His lips curl up into a coy smile and he licks my ear. “GOOD NIGHT NEW JERSEY! And remember: hugs not drugs, and always use a condom!” I laugh. Gerard could say anything, anything at all, and those kids would scream.
I sit on a table chugging a bottle of water. Somehow, I managed to be the first person off the stage. I was soon accompanied by Ray and Bob, who were talking, then Mikey, and last Gerard. He’s unwrapping his boa and using his arm to wipe his sweat-drenched forehead.
“Hey babe,” he murmurs, taking the water bottle from my mouth and replacing it with his lips. “That was fucking sexy,” he whispers into my mouth.
“Wha?” I cannot be counted on to form comprehensible phrases, nor to remember anything too far back when Gerard is acting like this. Especially since he’s now trailing his fingers across the denim covering my boner. I moan into his mouth.
I can feel him smirk. “You yelling my name. I’m kinda in the mood to hear it again…” I gasp as his words cause an intense clenching sensation in my lower stomach. He then gives my dick a quick squeeze through my jeans.
“Ahhh Gee…” My breathing quickens audibly. He chuckles.
“We’re going back to the bus, guys,” he announces to the rest of the band.
“Be decent in an hour,” Ray warned. “We’ll be leaving then.”
“Not making any promises.”