Random tongue snacking, brain meltdowns, and hidden kneecap vendettas...NEW CHAPTER, GUYS- PLEASE R&R! :D :D
Okay, so putting the most mouth-watering, swelteringly hot guy in the whole of creation, the most disastrously clumsy moron in the universe, and a pot of bright red, toxic hair dye in one steamy, locked bathroom? A good plan? Oh, not forgetting there’s a bunch of hyperactive, squealy, pink-knicker wearing and extraordinarily sick minded brain cells stuck in there too.
So, yeah…sound like a good mix? I somehow think perhaps not.
In fact, I think giving Hitler world power would be less dangerous. Seriously, it couldn’t be much worse right now.
Actually, it could. Jamie could be here.
And she could therefore be seeing me and my retarded little brain cells metaphorically (and occasionally literally) drooling over her mind-blowingly sexy boyfriend, who’s currently got his back to me, bending over the sink as he mixes the blood red hair dye.
Yeah. And those jeans really emphasise certain assets. Like his ass.
Oh, shut up, brain.
God am I glad he’s not facing me right now, or he could see my totally vacant, hormonally crazed, insane expression and slightly open mouth. And the drool running down my chin.
Oh shit, I really am drooling.
I use possibly all my will power to blink, look away and wipe the little trail of spittle from my chin, while simultaneously trying not to suddenly fling myself across the bathroom from where I’m sitting on the tiled floor with my back against the bath to where Frank’s bending over the basin, humming softly as he gets the dye ready.
Words cannot express how beyond grateful I am that Jamie isn’t here right now, or I would actually be dead. As in, very unpleasantly dead from being forced down the plughole with a pair of spotty pink eyelash curlers. Ouch.
But hey, that’s just how sadistic, plastic bitches like her roll. Well, not literally- they’re on so many stupid diets they’re like fucking anorexic stick insects. Which, in my experience, do not roll.
True, I’ve only met one, which was Mikey’s pet a few years back and was named Eric, but that little munchkin was as less likely to roll as a moose is to fly.
Yeah, anyway, I just somehow think Jamie might mind the fact I’m staring unblinkingly at her boyfriend in pure, hormone-struck awe while all my brain cells are mentally removing his clothes like the helpful little fuckfaces they are.
Actually…maybe she wouldn’t mind as much as I thought before- she’s probably still licking her way down my traitor, cat-snogging best friend’s gullet with her lying, cheating, repulsive tongue.
Oooh, this means I can mentally undress Frank without getting murdered!
No you can’t, fuckface. Shut up.
Yes I can. And you can’t stop me.
Yes I can- I am you.
Yes, but I’m you too.
I think you’re crazy.
That figures, asswipe.
Can’t we just lick him?
No! stop being so sick minded!
Dude, you fantasise about his six dicks.
So do you, idiot!
“Shut up! Shut up all of you!!” I yell in desperate attempt to silence my hormone-crazed inner voices.
Then I realise. My INNER voices. Meaning no one outside my deranged skull can hear them. Hence the term, inner voices.
Okay, and I just tried silencing them with my outer voice. The one everyone can hear. And it was all pointless anyway, because they’re all still squealing and skipping and bleating on and on and on about multiple-dicked sex gods and banana skin thongs and meese.
Oh, and Frank’s looking round at me as if it’s time to call out the trained medics with the large nets and long white coats.
Perhaps it is.
And all my infuriating little brain cells are STILL MENTALLY UNDRESSING HIM LIKE THE LITTLE SICKOS THEY ARE. Will they never stop torturing me like this?!?!
Before my own brain spontaneously combusts from inner voices, stress, and just pure insanity relating to the sex god with possible multiple genitalia looking at me as if I’ve finally lost the non-existent plot, someone speaks, saving me from a mental breakdown.
“Gerard?” Frank’s eyeing me slightly worriedly, fingertips stained red from the hair-dye he’s just been mixing in the sink.
“Um,” I manage, blushing furiously and studying the tiled floor as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Are you okay?” Frank narrows his eyes, approaching me.
If insane is okay, then yes, yes I am.
“Ummm…y-yeah,” I stammer, trying to ignore the fact that the only thing sexier than sex itself is getting closer and closer and I can’t really move any far backwards. Because there might just be a wall behind me.
And I might be strange, but I’m not so strange that I can walk through walls. Well, not yet anyway.
Perhaps I’ll be able to in my next life as a snail…who knows?
“Really?” Frank’s looking at me with those devastatingly russet eyes and I have to grapple for the wall behind me as my knees take an abrupt departure from life.
“Uhohgosinhdhswhetwpet,” I say intelligently, breathing unevenly and feeling slightly dizzy while willing all my crazed little brain cells not to lose the plot entirely and fling themselves at him. Cause seeing as they’re inside me, I’d get flung at Frank too. And things might just get a little sticky.
In a totally non-perverted, un-sick minded way, of course.
Oh god, I need professional help.
Frank chuckles softly and puts his finger under my chin, lifting my head up so as I have to gaze into his beyond gorgeous eyes. If he doesn’t let me look away soon, I will not be responsible for my own actions. Or my brain cells’.
“You’re so cute when you blush,” He smirks, and then he’s kissing my nose softly, smirking slightly.
And suddenly, I am in the bath.
I’m not entirely sure how I arrived to be sprawled here; all I remember is Frank’s lips on the tip of my nose, a lot of arm-flailing, the death of my already dead knees, melting brain cells, and my abrupt departure from all co-ordination.
“Gerard?!” Frank’s peering over the edge of the bath where I’m lying in a dazed heap, heart pounding, brain totally and utterly melted. Oh, I also seem to have brought down a whole shelf of toiletries with me, probably due to the manic arm flailing.
“Um…hi,” I say dazedly from where I’m lying in the ceramic bathtub, blinking blankly up at Frank, who’s leaning over the edge, looking worried, which may or may not have something to do with the fact I look like a mentally incompetent baby vampire hamster who’s lying amongst bottles of shower gel, deodorant, toothpaste and hairspray.
Wow, I must look so attractive right now.
“You’re not concussed, are you?” Frank frowns, running a hand over my forehead.
Do I look that vacant and glazed?
Actually, don’t answer that.
Yes, yes you do.
Do you ever listen to anything I say?!
My inner voices are thankfully interrupted as my mobile starts to ring.
“Um…hello?” I mumble, slurring slightly as I press the ‘accept call’ button.
Oh. It’s Ray. My supposed best friend who was letting Satan stroke his ‘fro and tongue him within an inch of his life in the park less than an hour ago, despite the fact he knows she’s dating the most gorgeous, perfect sex god in existence.
“You traitor,” I spit with such uncharacteristic venom that Frank looks down at me in surprise.
“What?” Ray sounds perplexed. “What are you on about, Geefreak? Where are you?”
“In the bath.”
“You heard me, cock sucker.”
“Um, you’re the cock sucker, actually,” Ray points out.
“Fuck you, Toro,” I growl.
“Jeez, what’s got your frilly little homosexual knickers in a twist?”
“YOU, YOU CHEATING TRAITOR!” I yell, standing up so fast I stumble slightly.
“You alright there, Tumbles?” Frank asks, looking amused but also utterly bewildered.
“Um, Gerard?” Ray’s voice crackles worriedly over the receiver as Frank steadies me with his hand and I want to fling myself into the depths of the bath with a splat once more.
“Yes?” I say with slightly less anger. Hey, it’s not my fault- it’s hard to sound like you want to strangle someone with their own intestines when you’re melting in a fuzzy pool of hormones, and the hottest sex god in the whole of creation just happens to be holding your hand.
“If you’re in the bath, then why is Frank there?”
“He’s not. Fuck you,” I growl half-heartedly, just as Frank oh-so-conveniently says “Say hi to Ray from me.”
Little is the possibly multiple-dicked sex god aware that he’s sending greetings to the puff-headed fuckface that was playing a repulsive game of tonsil tennis with his girlfriend earlier.
“Um, Gee…I can kinda hear him.” Ray says.
“That’s not him.”
“Yeah, and I’m not your best, and probably only friend.”
“What? Gee, what’s going on?”
“Really? I’d never have guessed.”
“Don’t pretend to be clever.”
“I’m not- I am clever. I got an A* in science.”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”
“You were the one who got an F.”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT EITHER!”
“What is the point, then?” Ray sounds utterly baffled.
“I’m actually not sure now. You’ve confused me!! But I do know that you deserve to get absorbed by your own ‘fro.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, Gee? And is there something you want to tell me about why Frank is with you while you’re in the bath?”
“No. I think there’s something YOU want to tell me, about a certain satanic relation of mine and yourself! YOU DISGUST ME, RAYMOND TORO. I HOPE YOU GET EATEN BY YOUR OWN CAT!!”
And on that inventive insult, I punch the ‘end call’ button.
Frank looks utterly perplexed. Oh, and he’s still holding my hand, which is actually a good thing; I think if he lets go, I will actually just fall over.
He raises his eyebrows questioningly at me as I pocket my phone with trembling fingers.
“Um, long story,” I say brightly, getting out of the bath slightly unsteadily.
“Okay,” Frank looks amused as he gently disentangles his hand from mine and goes back over to the sink, collects the little pot of dye, and grins devilishly at me.
Okay, seriously, does this dude have absolutely NO mercy on my poor little kneecaps?!
“Um, okay?” I say shakily, hastily sitting down so as I don’t collapse.
Frank grins that wonderful, devastating, devilish grin again.
Okay, it’s official; the guy must have some kind of fucked up, hidden vendetta against kneecaps.
“Ready to dye my hair?”
Oh dear moose shittings. This is it. This is the end.
Okay, this whole dying-Frank’s-hair thing is actually EVEN WORSE than I thought it would be. And seriously, that’s saying something; I envisaged spontaneous combustion and rape. And hair dye like, everywhere.
Well, no one’s actually spontaneously combusted yet.
Or been the victim of my perverted little brain cells sex-crazed lunacy.
And there’s only a little bit of hair dye spattered on the white ceramic inside of the bath so far.
But I’m sitting, cross-legged, literally two inches away from Frank in a small bathtub, stroking bright red hair dye onto the sides of his shaved hair with trembling hands and squealing, melting brain cells.
I wish he was one of those people who look nice from a distance, but when you actually get close to, they look like a repulsive, slime-eating satanic, wrinkled Grinch. Sadly, he is not one of those people.
From afar, he looks like a knee-meltingly sexy god from a world of gorgeousness, but when you get closer, he’s mouth-wateringly sexy, utterly deliciously gorgeous and lethally alluring.
Seriously, if I get out of this bathroom alive, and without being a rapist, I will be extremely surprised and very proud of my little brain cells.
Why does he have to smell of mangoes and sunshine and tobacco? And actually, why is that so attractively tempting?
I am one fucked up little fuckface.
“So…how was your day?” Frank smiles at me as I dip my hand back into the pot of dye, trying to hide behind my hair and not look at him so as it doesn’t look as if I’m tempted to sexually assault him.
“Um, fine thanks,” I mumble, not looking up. I may have just failed to mention the fact I found my best friend’s tongue down his girlfriend’s throat. Well, not just my best friend’s tongue- he was there too. It would have been pretty weird if it had just been his tongue.
But I wouldn’t put random tongue snacking past my satanic stepsister.
“Why do you keep hiding behind you your hair?” Frank smirks, and I feel him shift a few centimetres closer, so as his legs are either side of me, thighs pressing against my hips.
“Goteejtwoihppestjpieeeeeeng,” I melt, trying to calm my overly excited little brain cells.
“Hey?” Frank grins, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and sending shivers all down the back of my neck as his warm, lethally alluring breath brushes my lips, making my brain cells go just about crazy.
Down, you pink knicker-wearing little freaks, down.
And put your eager little tongues away.
Frank’s laughing softly now, probably because I’m blushing pinker than my evil brain cell’s frilly knickers. Why can’t the universe stop conspiring against me and just kill me and put me out of my misery already? Haven’t I been tortured enough already?!
“Um,” I stammer, swiping my fingers round the tub and tentatively smearing more dye on his hair with shaky hands. “Um, because…I…um…have sunburn.”
Oh, nice excuse, moron. That’s SO believable.
Frank laughs harder, shaking his head so as I accidentally smudge the dye across his cheek in a wet read smear. Oops.
“Oops,” I say, eyes wide in horror.
“What?” Frank stops laughing.
“Um…nothing?” I mumble, shaking my hair back across my burning face. See, it is burnt. Just um, not from the sun.
“Okay…” Frank smirks. “So, you were telling me about your sunburn?” He asks softly, sounding amused. He also seems to have edged subtly closer still.
“Oh…um…yeah. I have…sunburn,” I mentally facepalm. I actually think it is not possible for me to get any more retarded. But hey, I thought that a week or so back, and then Frank arrived.
“Lets see,” and before I have time to react, he’s pushed my hair back, away from my face with gentle fingers.
“Funny sort of sunburn,” He smirks, tracing my burning cheeks with a warm, callused finger and making me with I could just be absorbed by the plughole in the bath behind me. I’m also suddenly extremely goose-bumpy.
“Um. Yeah. It’s…an….allergy,” I burble dazedly, and then wish I had a chainsaw to remove my own brain.
“To what?” Frank sounds like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.
I concentrate all my fucked-up little brain cells on not looking up at him, which is extremely difficult when he’s sitting with his lips like, an inch away from mine, warm, tantalizingly potent breath tickling my lips, is legs pressed against my sides.
If I look up, I think I might just die.
Of course, trying not to look up while dying someone’s hair isn’t really a good plan, especially when you lack co-ordination as much as I do. I think all of Frank’s face might be covered in the dye by now. But hey, he’s hot enough to pull anything off- even a face smothered in red hair dye.
Okay, please just kill me now. Or at least those evil, sex crazed little lunatics that live inside my head.
Frank laughs softly, still tracing his fingers across my face lightly and tantalizingly, giving me funny little goose bumps all over.
“You’re adorable,” he whispers, still laughing softly as his fingers trail across my lips, the result in me jumping wildly, and smearing dye all the way across his face with my trembling fingers as sparks shoot through me and butterflies rampage in my stomach.
Despite my best efforts, I can’t help looking up. And consequently melting at the speed of light.
How is it possible for one guy to be so incredibly alluring?!
He’s got these smiling russet, scarlet-rimmed eyes and smooth, ivory skin, wide, smirking lips and a silver lip ring, reckless hair and ohmygodI’mgunnacombustIcan’ttakethissexinessanylongerhe’ssocloseand….just… gah.
My brain cells are squealing obscenities.
And every hormone in my body seems to have been released at once, which in itself is difficult to deal with, let alone when you’re burningly hot stepsister’s boyfriend seems to be edging closer and closer, sitting with his thighs either side of my hips.
Oh, and I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from the person sitting so close in front of me with smiling, dusty-cherry lips, warm, tickly breath and teasing fingertips.
He’s like a magnet to all my deranged little brain cells, who are all moaning in a disturbingly sexual way and flattening themselves against the front of my brain, trying to edge me closer to Frank so their eager little pink tongues can lick him mercilessly for all eternity.
Oh meesefuck, I think I’m loosing control over them- their hormone crazed desire is getting far too strong.
And Frank is really not helping by being just so god damn gorgeous.
Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to lick something so much.
Not even one of those amazing cookie dough ice creams Ray used to buy me.
Fuck, this guy is better than a whole moose pooping vat of cookie dough ice cream. And if he does not stop being so close and stroking my face, bad things are seriously going to happen to the dude.
I really don’t think my brain cells can take much more.
“Has anyone told you what a cute nose you have?” Frank murmurs suddenly, tracing his fingers down my jaw line.
Oh, what’s this?
My tongue seems to be attached to something. Something smooth and warm and mango flavoured.
Oh. meesefucking reincarnated snails. It’s his nose.
Frank Iero’s nose.
And my tongue’s on it.
Heehehe, little bit of a cliffhanger there xD Anyway, what did you think? Please let me know, and which bit (if any) was your favourite. Hope you all had a lovely Christmas- you guys certainly deserved it! So…yeah. Will update soon- R&R if you want to find out what happens with Gee’s tongue and Franks nose :P
[*Thanks for reading, love you all!