Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Rope Burn
Friday came, Gerard went out, Mikey stayed in.
Gerard left with tight leather trousers, perfectly sprayed hair, and an anticipating smile on his face. Mikey resigned himself to the couch and the Syfy channel with a defeated expression on his face. It didn't take long sitting on his own watching low budget films about megalodons to realise that, contrary to what he predicted the day before, he did feel like drinking. He felt like drinking a lot. He pushed himself up off the couch and retrieved a beer from the fridge, cracking off the top. As the first long sip slid down his throat, Mikey exhaled contentedly, walking back into the lounge and collapsing onto the seat, putting his feet up on the armrest.
By the time Gerard arrived home, Mikey was drunk - enough so that he was smiling, and he was horny. He'd taken a couple of painkillers to prevent the inevitable, and they gave his body a wonderful light feeling, like his limbs were warm and cleansed and his veins were full of helium. He felt an assurance of possibility, that he could go jogging and be able to sing while doing so, that any endeavour he took on would doubtless succeed. But for the meantime, he sat on his couch and watched Jersey Shore reruns.
Mikey couldn't wait to see his brother, every second felt like a minute, his nails were itching and his knee bounced restlessly. He pictured Gerard's face in his head and grinned widely - he was so pretty. Especially when he smiled. Mikey loved it when he smiled.
The clock ticked sluggishly past midnight and Mikey took to clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and dividing the letters of DVD titles on the shelves into threes. A little OCD, but it kept his mind busy. He didn't expect Gerard to be home any time soon, but at the same time he expected that if he moved from his seat for one minute Gerard would come and go and he'd miss him.
One o'clock hit and Mikey flicked over to Syfy to watch the latter half of X-Men. This at least held his attention.
His senses were heightened and at the same time numbed, he felt alert yet also slightly hazy. His memory didn't stretch to things over two minutes before - he was very much living in the present, in a way that only alcohol can induce.
As he stared with wide-eyed interest at the screen, something softly collided with the front door, creating a thick thud, followed by a muttered voice and a jangling of keys. Mikey's eyes stayed on the television but his attention had moved to the noise - reasoning reduced by alcohol, he hadn't figured out what it was. With a sticky push, the door jolted open and Gerard stumbled in after it, surprised at the suddenness of his own entry. Mikey turned off the television to concentrate and looked over the back of the couch. 'Lit up' is not a powerful enough description for the change in Mikey's eyes when he saw his brother - his whole being came alive.
"Gee!" he beamed uninhibitantly, running over to the doorway.
"Mikey!" Gerard grinned back, his eyes slightly bleary and his arms outstretched either side of him, genuinely ecstatic to see his brother. "Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey!" he chanted, almost bouncing on the spot as he pulled Mikey into his arms and squeezed him like his favourite childhood toy. Mikey wrapped his arms around Gerard's back and held onto him as if to make up for every minute that he hadn't, nuzzling his grin into Gerard's neck.
"Mikey, I missed you Mikey." Gerard whined, partially slurred, pouting, and loosened his arms slightly to allow his lips access to Mikey's face. He kissed his cheek repeatedly, covering every inch of his profile in wet, tender kisses. "I had fun Mikey but it would have been better with you, it's ALWAYS better with you. You're the bestest." he rambled, muffled by Mikey's skin.
Mikey's grin rounded the apples of his cheeks and brought a deep pink blush under the skin. Gerard found the sight enticing and attached his lips to the apple of Mikey's cheekbone and sucked gently on it, tongue flicking against the skin and making Mikey's eyelids flutter and his legs lose all their weight. Mikey's throat constricted and a quiet, trembling moan left his lips. Immediately, in reply, Gerard moved his hands to Mikey's backside and slammed their hips together, earning a deeper moan from each of them.
Gerard turned his attention to kissing frantically down Mikey's jaw and neck, dragging his tongue over untouched and moist with sweat skin, whilst Mikey took advantage of Gerard's lowered head and buried his face in his hair, kissing Gerard's temple - a weak spot of his - and letting his hands cover all of Gerard's ribs and stroke down to his waist.
Familiarly and expertly, Gerard found Mikey's pulse and gave it a rough wet suck. Mikey's back arched and his head fell back, mouth open, his loud moan turning into a gasp and then disintegrating into ragged breathing and fractured sounds.
Gerard purred in the back of his throat, so low and raw it was almost a growl, and licked a line from Mikey's collarbone to his chin, Mikey's knees quivering and his chest heaving. Drawing his nose over Mikey's cheek, Gerard reached his ear and murmured in it sensually, voice dripping with unadulterated want, "It kills me when you moan, babe. Do it more for me."
Mikey turned his head to face his brother, locking his off-focus, lust-clouded eyes with a matching pair. "Make me." he whispered simply. It was at once a question, a demand and a plea.
Face crumpling with desire, Gerard wasted no time in hitching Mikey's thighs around his waist and carrying him to the nearest bedroom, watching Mikey pull off and discard his shirt somewhere on the way, before Gerard threw him down on the bed and sat on his hips, quickly removing his own shirt.
Routine is a comforting yet destroying thing.
Gerard left with tight leather trousers, perfectly sprayed hair, and an anticipating smile on his face. Mikey resigned himself to the couch and the Syfy channel with a defeated expression on his face. It didn't take long sitting on his own watching low budget films about megalodons to realise that, contrary to what he predicted the day before, he did feel like drinking. He felt like drinking a lot. He pushed himself up off the couch and retrieved a beer from the fridge, cracking off the top. As the first long sip slid down his throat, Mikey exhaled contentedly, walking back into the lounge and collapsing onto the seat, putting his feet up on the armrest.
By the time Gerard arrived home, Mikey was drunk - enough so that he was smiling, and he was horny. He'd taken a couple of painkillers to prevent the inevitable, and they gave his body a wonderful light feeling, like his limbs were warm and cleansed and his veins were full of helium. He felt an assurance of possibility, that he could go jogging and be able to sing while doing so, that any endeavour he took on would doubtless succeed. But for the meantime, he sat on his couch and watched Jersey Shore reruns.
Mikey couldn't wait to see his brother, every second felt like a minute, his nails were itching and his knee bounced restlessly. He pictured Gerard's face in his head and grinned widely - he was so pretty. Especially when he smiled. Mikey loved it when he smiled.
The clock ticked sluggishly past midnight and Mikey took to clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and dividing the letters of DVD titles on the shelves into threes. A little OCD, but it kept his mind busy. He didn't expect Gerard to be home any time soon, but at the same time he expected that if he moved from his seat for one minute Gerard would come and go and he'd miss him.
One o'clock hit and Mikey flicked over to Syfy to watch the latter half of X-Men. This at least held his attention.
His senses were heightened and at the same time numbed, he felt alert yet also slightly hazy. His memory didn't stretch to things over two minutes before - he was very much living in the present, in a way that only alcohol can induce.
As he stared with wide-eyed interest at the screen, something softly collided with the front door, creating a thick thud, followed by a muttered voice and a jangling of keys. Mikey's eyes stayed on the television but his attention had moved to the noise - reasoning reduced by alcohol, he hadn't figured out what it was. With a sticky push, the door jolted open and Gerard stumbled in after it, surprised at the suddenness of his own entry. Mikey turned off the television to concentrate and looked over the back of the couch. 'Lit up' is not a powerful enough description for the change in Mikey's eyes when he saw his brother - his whole being came alive.
"Gee!" he beamed uninhibitantly, running over to the doorway.
"Mikey!" Gerard grinned back, his eyes slightly bleary and his arms outstretched either side of him, genuinely ecstatic to see his brother. "Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey!" he chanted, almost bouncing on the spot as he pulled Mikey into his arms and squeezed him like his favourite childhood toy. Mikey wrapped his arms around Gerard's back and held onto him as if to make up for every minute that he hadn't, nuzzling his grin into Gerard's neck.
"Mikey, I missed you Mikey." Gerard whined, partially slurred, pouting, and loosened his arms slightly to allow his lips access to Mikey's face. He kissed his cheek repeatedly, covering every inch of his profile in wet, tender kisses. "I had fun Mikey but it would have been better with you, it's ALWAYS better with you. You're the bestest." he rambled, muffled by Mikey's skin.
Mikey's grin rounded the apples of his cheeks and brought a deep pink blush under the skin. Gerard found the sight enticing and attached his lips to the apple of Mikey's cheekbone and sucked gently on it, tongue flicking against the skin and making Mikey's eyelids flutter and his legs lose all their weight. Mikey's throat constricted and a quiet, trembling moan left his lips. Immediately, in reply, Gerard moved his hands to Mikey's backside and slammed their hips together, earning a deeper moan from each of them.
Gerard turned his attention to kissing frantically down Mikey's jaw and neck, dragging his tongue over untouched and moist with sweat skin, whilst Mikey took advantage of Gerard's lowered head and buried his face in his hair, kissing Gerard's temple - a weak spot of his - and letting his hands cover all of Gerard's ribs and stroke down to his waist.
Familiarly and expertly, Gerard found Mikey's pulse and gave it a rough wet suck. Mikey's back arched and his head fell back, mouth open, his loud moan turning into a gasp and then disintegrating into ragged breathing and fractured sounds.
Gerard purred in the back of his throat, so low and raw it was almost a growl, and licked a line from Mikey's collarbone to his chin, Mikey's knees quivering and his chest heaving. Drawing his nose over Mikey's cheek, Gerard reached his ear and murmured in it sensually, voice dripping with unadulterated want, "It kills me when you moan, babe. Do it more for me."
Mikey turned his head to face his brother, locking his off-focus, lust-clouded eyes with a matching pair. "Make me." he whispered simply. It was at once a question, a demand and a plea.
Face crumpling with desire, Gerard wasted no time in hitching Mikey's thighs around his waist and carrying him to the nearest bedroom, watching Mikey pull off and discard his shirt somewhere on the way, before Gerard threw him down on the bed and sat on his hips, quickly removing his own shirt.
Routine is a comforting yet destroying thing.
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