Gerard's moaning during concerts is posing a bit of a problem. :Frerard:
The moaning has got to stop.
That is, word for word, what Frank thought as he strummed the chords for their bands newest song. Had anyone been looking at him and not the moaning vocalist, they would have seen that he had rolled his eyes somewhere between three and five times, shook his head in disapproval between four and six times, and, for around twenty-five seconds, had not taken his gaze off of Gerard.
There was no moaning in this song. Frank knew. He had helped write the lyrics. He did not recall writing down, /Do you have the key to the hotel? Because I'm gonna strike this mother fucker on fire-/[Moan like a porn star]/FIRE!/. No. Definetely not. So why Gerard had started groaning into the microphone like a cheap hooker during their lead guitarist's solo, he wasn't quite sure.
And it wasn't the whole moaning thing that Frank was feeling weird about. It was the fact that...well,...in a way, those were his noises. He had been the soul recipiant of those low groans of pleasure every night for the pat two and a half or so years. Fuck, he had been the cause of those fucking noises and now everyone was going to hear them and that meant they were less special and Gerard was being and asshole, and God damn it, it JUST WASN'T FAIR!
At first, he hadn't even really noticed that Gerard was making those noises. He was so engulfed in his guitar playing that he was oblvious to the things around him. It was as though everything had gone black. He could feel the strings on his fingers, the pick in his hand, the guitar tugging at the strap over his shoulder. Nothing else mattered. But then the sound started to bleed into his brain. His thoughts, which had been as clear and clean as river water, were now permeated with this tiny sound. It was a sound he knew far too well. It started off quietly, as one long, drawn-out note, escaping the vocalists lips as if by accident.
Frank continued to play, banging his head to the music, letting the sound of drums and guitars consume him.
He looked up now to see Gerard with his lips almos pressed against the metal of the microphone. His eyes were half-lidded and he was doing his usual rhythmic bounce to the beat of the music. Frank watched as the vocalist opened his mouth again, this time the moan more high-pitched, shorter in length.
Frank couldn't believe what he was hearing. That...that sound should only be heard by his ears! That was something he looked foreward to on a daily basis! He had to work God damn hard to get that man to make that noise and he was just giving it out for free?!
Oh, even the pattern was the same. The moans were getting shorter in length, louder, high-pitched. Frank became aware of the crowd. Fans were screaming, most of them probably girls who were about to have their first orgasm of their post-adolescent life. Now the sounds were getting quicker, more urgent. Had they not been in the middle of a concert, Frank would have thought that Gerard would have stopped and just finished right there.
"AUUUGH! UUUGHH! UGGH!! UGGHHH!!"
Oh, that little shit is going DOWN. Frank thought. If he hadn't been so fucking turned on he would have gone over there and pushed Gerard right off the stage. Frank listened, pouting discreetly and hoping no one could see, as Gerard made the noises he usually made when they...well...you get the point. The last four or five seconds consisted of nothing but loud, sharp, impatient groans. Frank expected to hear one final AUGH! before the vocalist continued singing. He didn't. Instead he heard something much better.
Or worse. It depends on who you ask.
"AGH!AUGH! AUUGHH! AUUGH!!- FRANK!!"
The guitarst's head turned sharply to Gerard who kept on singing as though he didn't notice that he'd just screamed out his partner's name in the middle of their concert. Girl's screamed. Guy's screamed. Frank let out an involuntary, "Oh, shit." Part of him was still pissed. Part of him was relieved. Part of him was turned on as fuck.
He played the rest of the concert with a smile on his face.
- - - -
"Jesus Christ, Gerard," Ray laughed backstage, placing his guitar on the floor. "You forget where you were?" Mikey was almost rolling around on the floor in hysterics. There were tears rolling down his cheeks. Gerard blink and smiled out of confusion.
"What?" He was oblivious. He was actually oblivious. No freaking way. This only made Mikey laugh harder.
"Dude!" He choked out, clutching his ribs. "You like, had a fucking /orgasm/! Then you just like, screamed Frank's name!! Oh my GOD, I will never fucking recover!!" Gerard's face fell and his already ghost white skin paled.
"Are you serious?" The vocalist asked. Mikey cried out, "YES!!" while Ray and Bob nodded. Gerard stood there for a moment, embaressed, bewildered, shocked, and still slightly turned on all at the same time. There really is no other feeling like it. He had to get away from Mikey's laughter. Without a word, he left the room and began walking down the hall that lead outside to the bus. He had made it several yards down the hall when a door in just behind him flung open. A hand reached out, grabbed him by the colar, and pulled him inside the closet.
Gerard opened his mouth to talk but was cut off by another mouth on his. He pulled away after a moment.
"Frank!" He exclaimed. "What the hell?!" The guiatist smirked and played with Gerard's colar.
"I didn't realized you liked me that much..." Frank teased. Gerard pursed his lips and swallowed.
"Yeah, I didn't even realize I had said your fucking name until Mikey nearly passed out from laughing."
Frank let out a small, dry laugh.
"Why were you moaning in the first place?" he asked. He started to untie Gerard's sanguine tie. The vocalist shrugged.
"I dunno," he replied. "Music is a lot like sex, I guess." Frank stood on his tiptoes and kissed Gerard on the cheek.
"That's kinky," he whispered. "You must have been thinking about something good. It sounded like you jizzed your pants out there." He felt Gerard's lips turn up in a smirk.
"You know what's kinkier?" Gerard whispered back. Frank asked what. The vocalist leaned into his ear.
"My pants are wet."