FicWad

Sunlight sprayed through the gauzy white lacey curtains and slowly woke me.
Groaning, I rolled over, throwing my arm out and accidently catching someone in the chest. Oh, shit.Cautiously, I cracked an eye. There was a pretty boy snoozing across from me. His eyeliner was smudged and his chin length,messy black hair was mussed all over my expensive white pillows. He was rather cute though. Sitting up slowly, a wave of nausea overcame me and I made it to the bathroom, hurling into the sink. Jesus, how drunk was I last night?
Scratching my head physically hurt. I could fucking hear the skin cells being scratched away by my blunt nails. Fighting through the alcohol induced fog, I struggled to remember last night. After about five minutes of intensive thought, it came back to me.
Oh Jesus, how pissed was I?! I laugh weakly at myself, remembering tables and brightly coloured drinks and sweat and a really hot guy. I vividly remember stealing Eyeliner Guy's smoke from him and attempting to chat him up, too drunk and turned on to wonder if he was straight and I was going to get my teeth broke. Rubbing my poor abused head, I reached into the drawer beside the sink for painkillers. I popped them dry, wincing at the bitter taste and turned back to the door. Dropping the pill bottle in surprise, I glanced at Eyeliner Guy who was standing in the door, and holding his temples as if he was afraid they were gonna explode. Looking rather bemused, he pointed at the pill bottle on the floor and asked hoarsely, "Can I have one of those?"
I reached down, only to be overcome with vertigo or something coz all of a sudden I was kissing the tiles. Eyeliner Guy reached out a hand and helped me up. Damn, I congratulated my drunk-ass self, but he was fine. And I only talk like a ghetto dude when I'm really impressed.
"Um, don't take offence or nothin', but what's your name again? Coz in my head I just keep calling you Short Hot Guy. And I'm fairly sure that's not your name." Oh, nice Eyeliner Guy. Ego boost of the century right there. I ignored my hypocritical self and stated-oh wait did I say stated? Coz I meant rasped; "Frank Iero." and then added like a hungover idiot; "Nice to meet you."
mentally slapping my self, I continued, "I mean...Again."
He was rather short. Near my height. And 'round these parts people call me the Jersey Elf. Anyways, he nodded at me, and held out a hand. "Bert. Bert McCracken."
Biting back James Bond jokes, I shook his hand and he asked me politely to excuse him, but he had to hurl. I vacated the bathroom and waited in the bedroom. Fuck, but I should never have one-night stands. I am incapable of waving people off afterward. I tend to accidently make friends with them. That's how I met Gerard.
And Bob. And Gerard's little brother Mikey. Damn, I mused, pulling on some clothes for the day, I am kind of a cockslut. Oh, and Synyster. Real name Brian. Now, there was a damn hot man if ever there was one. Oh, God, another memory of last night came back when I thought 'cockslut'. Bert underneath me and moaning something incoherently sexy into my ear and tracing his warm hand up my-
Damn. That was where the memory cut out. Zipping up my jeans, I ignored the sound of Bert hugging the toilet bowl and waited awkwardly. Shit, here was where I always fail, do I offer him breakfast? Do I offer him a cab? Do I offer him more sex? Um, no actually, I knew that was wrong. That's how I met Ray. Fuck, I mused, but he was unstoppable and mindblowing too. I should call him. The door opened and Bert hunched out. I can smell the minty mouthwash he borrowed. Well, he did let me fuck him, I suppose I can spare him some mouthwash. "Hi." I rasp, idiotically. "Um...You want some breakfast?"
Looking revolted, he shook his head quickly. "God no. But if wanna give me coffee I'd be happy."
I stare at him, hoping he gets the message and calls a cab so I can go wash my sheets. He stares right back.

Coffee it is.

In the kitchen I hand Bert a hot coffee, and get a flashback of handing him a condom.
"No, nooooo Frank shaddup for a second...What was I saying?"
I press closer to his heated body hopefully, as he recovers his train of thought. Or is it track of thought? Who the fuck cares? "Oh, yeah," He says, nodding wisely, "I was-hic-I was saying that we needed to use the lube coz if we don't then I'll hurt tomorrow Fwank."
"Dat sounds sho cute, Bewt say my name like dat again it's sexy."
"Why is you talking like an irish person?" Bert slurred, pouring some lubricant into his hand. He attempted to coat my dick in it and missed completely. By about a mile. He looked up at me, wounded, as if I had moved my dick from his reach. Oh, wait, I had. I was swaying rather dangerously on the bed. "Yeah, okay screw the lube." Bert moaned, pulling himself up to me and wrapping his legs around my waist. He leaned to my ear and positioned himself as he started whispering filthy-

Shit. I wish my memories wouldn't cut out like that.




I sip at my cup. Bert holds his carefully as if it was the Holy Grail and attempts to make conversation, ignoring the awkwardness. I was as bad at making small talk as Hot Topic models were at subtlety. Oooh, burn. "So, anyway. I should like...go. Right? So, " He says, putting his cup on the counter. "I'll see you."
Yeah, yeah, that was probably for the best. "Do you have all your stuff?" I asked, he nodded and I walked him out to the door.
He turned to face me and I wondered if I should give him my number. Nah, he knows where I live.
We look at each other for a second, then we're attached at the lips again and I'm shutting the door behind him, he's pressing me back against it and grinding his slim hips into mine. Shivering at the friction created, I put my hands on his ass and pull him even closer to me. My shoulders are getting slightly sore from pressing against the panels of the door and memories flood back.

I slam Bert hard against the wall and push him into it with my body, rubbing up and down on his crotch. Sweat glistens on his neck and I want it, licking at his collarbone and sucking, he arches his neck back, allowing me more access to his throat. I pull him into my bedroom, almost tripping in my haste.

I'm tugging down his black knee-length shorts and touching him, quickly, hard and needy.
He's not wearing underwear. Sweat collects around his collar bone and I watch it rise and fall with his quick breaths, I want to touch it but I forget eveything when he presses his dick against me.
I'm panting and telling him to forget lube, I don't need it because I want to feel him raw. He's shaking his head.
Bert's hands are everywhere and I'm losing control, I feel like jelly and I'm so hard and aching for his touch again. I shudder when the cool air hits my dick as he unzips my jeans and pushes them half down my legs, too eager to even pull them fully off.

He's so hard against my stomach and I want him so bad, so bad, I can taste it. I'm shivering and in too much pleasure to do anything but scream and jerk my hips into him to let him know how much he's giving me.

I open my mouth and he slides his warm fingers into it. I suck, swirling my tongue around them to coat them well. It's not enough to stop the pain when he quickly presses them into me, but I don't care. Hey, I'm kind of a masochist, sue me. He presses his pretty face into my neck and tells me to turn around. I do, eagerly and he touches my body, placing a hand on my right hip
and pulling my hips out and presses in slowly. I claw at the door, whimpering in pain and pleasure and crash my body back into his, sweat forming on the back of my neck, he kisses it and licks it away. I can feel every movement inside when he thrusts in so deep, and I'm panting and my heart is racing. I make small, muffled noises of pure pleasure and he rests his forehead on the base of my neck and slams his lower body into me. I can feel his heart pounding through his soft skin. His hand is moving my hips back and forward and his other hand is cupping my erection and jerking roughly in time with his thrusts and before I know it, warmth is building up through my whole body
and I explode in stars, shuddering and calling his name, panting when he finishes in me. I don't miss the fact that he moans my name when he orgasms and it sounds good, falling naturally from his lips.
Completely exhausted and spent, I fall agianst the abused door, sweating and trying to regain my breath. He pulls himself out, gently and leans against the wall, beside the door. Slowly he pulls up my jeans for me, and leaves them unzipped before redressing himself with, much less care.
"So," He grins, still breathing hard, a few minutes later. "I should actually leave this time."