FicWad

Hey lads!
So,here we are,seventh chapter,woo! Not a lot of sexiness in this, but some kinda romance and a bit of touchy-feely stuff. Oh yeah, and I involved the song because it's from one of my favourite books ever.
xo lorna


First Of The Gang To Die
Sette
Piccadilly Palare





Frank sat on the edge of Gerard's bed.

He had only just realized where he was as his sense of sight and touch had ultimately been eliminated from his abilities. He had been sitting here, for, say, about two hours with a blindfold covering his eyes and leather straps clasping his wrists together behind his back. He had tried, without much success, to untie them. His muscles had begun to spasm slightly from lack of usage.

With nothing to amuse him for the time being, Frank chose to review the day.

After attending the meeting between the IRA and the Way family, he was escorted to the Church and had sat through forty-five minutes of Italian prayer and sanctimony. It was, like Church prodominantly is, boring and tedious, but Frank had strongly enjoyed listening to Gerard recite the content in his deep, husky drawl that carried the words up into the roof dome and back down again. Professional singers on the radio, in the boy's own opinion, couldn't hold a candle to an Italian-American mafioso carrying out a rousing rendition of Veni Creator Spiritus.

Following Mass, Gerard and himself had returned to the house to meet fellow gangsters and associates. None of the thirty seven felons he had met had been allowed to kiss his knuckles or his cheek-handshakes and brief mutters of greetings were only permitted. If the gesture was too intense or prolonged, Gerard would squeeze the beholder's shoulder.

What had surprised Frank immensely was the charm and friendliness accompanying the gangsters and their wives. They had joked and talked with him as if they had known him for years, as if they were old friends instead of cold killers.

What had also taken Frank's interest was their knowledge and wisdom; they knew everybody and everyone, be they criminals or harmless civilians-which, it seemed to Frank, there didn't seem to be a lot of in downtown LA. He was told of surrounding gangs and syndicates in both Downtown and Upper; the Playboys, the Lazyboys, the Blue Bloods and the West Side Gang. None, Frank was told firmly by many members, were as infamous or as powerful as the Way family, the presiding set in the American crime family, towering over the prestigious Five Families in New York.

After the little meet and greet, Frank had been allowed to do whatsoever he pleased back at the immence, luxurious black manor. Gerard would be running so-called "errands" for some time and would not return apparently for several hours. During that time, Frank had fallen asleep, and here was the smoking gun of his current situation.

He knew for a fact that darkness had fallen an indefinite age ago. His eyelids were sticky with sleep and he was beginning to fabricate things in the darkness.

Frank's ears pricked up when the click of the door came from a distance. He smiled when he heard the Don's distinct murmur.

"Frank." It was him. The boy's muscles sank into comfortable relief. "Hello."

Frank let out a small mewl of want,which earned a chuckle from the other.He heard a soft thump and some clicks; setting down and unloading his gun.

"You look slightly put out, babe," came his voice again. "Somethin the matter?"

Frank noticed that Gerard sounded tired, an unusual trait for the Don; his voice was cracked and beaten, and the lack of the last consonant in 'something' proved his exhaustion.

Gerard sighed heavily and kneeled before Frank, settling on the wooden floor.

"You miss me?"

Frank nodded, trying to tug at his restraints. "So much."

"Don't," Gerard instructed, referring to the straps. "I'll do it."

"Where did you go?" The fear in his voice was inadmissible. The boy was shivering with fear.

"Drug raid. We busted a meth gang in Downtown with the Bloods." He yawned, squeaking as he stifled it. "Ugh. People shot. Andy was killed."

Frank was taken aback. He had met the man not even seven hours before. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Gerard replied,"ain't your fault." He trailed a hand on Frank's leg. His warm, calloused fingertips caused bolts of rapid, hot exitement to sizzle along his skin. "How did you get yourself into this, honey?"

"I don't know," Frank admitted, gasping when Gerard's fingers moved up further, teasing the boy. "I just woke up here."

"Mmmm," Gerard breathed, beginning to unravel the fold, letting it fall from Frank's eyes, revealing himself to his lover.

Frank whimpered. After being romantically involved with a gangster for six years, he always dreaded the late-night returns from gangland invasions.

Gerard looked like someone had used him for punching practice. Dried blood spilled down his nose and fed into his mouth. His eye was blackened, with flecks of yellow and red staining the deep hole. Deep gashes and wounds scraped his forehead, and his shirt was splashed with scarlet. Still, he smiled ruefully at Frank.

"Hello beautiful," he purred, pressing his chapped,cut lips to Frank's flocculent one's.

"Gerard," he said quietly, pressing his hand to the criminal's swollen, apple-red cheek. "What happened to you?"

"Beaten," he replied simply, stroking the side of Frank's face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," he mumbled, his mouth pulling in at the corners in a small smile. His following statement spilled from his mouth like liquid, pushed past his lips witout stagnation. "I love you, Frankie."

This was new to Frank. Anew confession from the steady mystery that was Gerard Way. The boss himself also looked shocked, alarmed even. His eyes widened and his mouth fell slack as he tried to stutter an excuse. Frank's own lips had parted considerably.

"I'm sorry," Gerard apologized quickly in a low voice. "I didn't mean that."

"You didn't?"

Gerard opened his mouth to speak, but it closed as soon as he had opened it. His vibrant eyes looked helpless, vulnerable. He had exposed his true feelings for one of the first time in his life.

Instead of answering Frank's question, Gerard pressed his lips to his in a brief moment of tenderness between the two, moving one hand to carefully pry the leather straps apart and the other to lie in Frank's lap.

The straps fell apart and onto the bed, and Gerard pressed his two fingers into the soft of Frank's thigh, the slightest of pressure shaking through Frank, causing him to gasp into Gerard's mouth and his stomach to twitch and twist. His recently freed hands raised tentatively to brush through the boss's thick locks.

Gerard pushed Frank's chest gently, making him fall back unto the bed with a soft thump onto the (black) sheets. The kiss remained soft and sweet, the gentle sound of their mouths working against each other. Gerard licked Frank's bottom lip, and the latter granted him entrance,letting Way to explore his mouth while he unbuttoned Frank's shirt and encircling his chest with nimble fingers.

"You don't-" Frank gasped as Gerard bit down on his lip,"-you don't love me?"

"I love you," Gerard moaned into his open mouth, working his hips against Frank's. "I love you so goddamn much." He stopped,pressing his forehead to the boy's, both panting slightly. Bulging emerald globes, so gorgeous Frank felt he could do nothing but stare into them. "Do you love me?"

The eyes glistened in the dim.

"Of course." Way's fingers brushed against Frank's conspicuous collar bone. The boy grasped in the dark and locked their fingers together. "I'm yours. I belong to you."

Those two words flushed Gerard full of joy and fruition, forcing him to plant a light kiss on Frank's forehead. He noticed Frank squirmed beneath him uncomfortably.

"What's wrong, sugar?"

"Your gun..." he said, giggling, It was adorable; his nose crinkled and the gangster wore his lopsided grin. "It's kinda...sticking into me."

"Sorry," he said, scrabbling to discard it. "Let me-"

"No,no," the boy lisped. "I'll do it."

Gerard felt a rush of blood flood south as he felt Frank begin to unstrap and unbuckle his holster from under him, his hips collapsing and rocking from the tugging. Frank blushed slightly as he saw the bulge bulking in the older man's trousers. When he was finally done Gerard sat back on his heels, wearing that signature lop-sided smirk, trapping Frank underneath him.

"Lift up your shirt, baby," Gerard instructed softly, tracing a spot on Frank's thigh. Thw young one bit his lip and nodded compliantly. "Lemme see how hurt you are, sugar."

Frank did as he was told, unbuttoning until he reached his waistline. Gerard stared at the purple and yellow swimming below him, absorbing the sight. His hands balled into fists as he saw how much agony the poor boy had been subjected to over the years.

"Gerard?" Frank, startled, sensed something was up. "Is something the matter?"

Gerard continued to glare at the injuries beneath him, tracing the curves and swirls of the bruises, his light touch making Frank flinch. The previously tranquil green marbles were churning and burning with fire.

"Is something the matter?" Gerard repeated in a low baritone. Fuck, the kid's chest was so bad his stomach arched upward in a swollen arc. Apart from that, the rabbit was as thin as a twig. "Frankie, he destroyed you. Some of these may never heal." He lowered his voice still and tutted. "Personification of evil. Poor baby angel."

Gerard's bloody fingers rolled over the fall and rise of the ridge of his ribs, as Frank sucked in a shaky breath. His small hands clutched the gangster's.

"It's okay now, though," he whispered. "Because I'm with you." He suckled his lip as Gerard continued to gently pass his hands to the boy's chest. The mafia boss had seen injuries of severity in his time; but never such brutal abuse to someone poised to be a loved one. "Gerard?"

"Baby?"

"Why did you..." he licked his lips and tried again. "Why did you fall in love with me?"

Gerard breathed in deeply and then pulled Frank up, so that that they weren't quite face-to-face, but more lips-to-forehead. The Don hadn't quite registered how small the boy was; he couldn't be any less than eight inches shorter than Gerard...perhaps five foot three at the most.

"First, I guess, it was just to piss off James. To irritate him, to taunt him. But then...your innocence and your vulnerability...they interested me, I suppose."

"But you were still married, weren't you?" asked Frank. He let his hand drift up and rested on the criminal's thigh. "You said that you had a husband."

"We were...having troubles," he muttered back, tensing up. He had never shared his feelings on his estranged husband. "He...cheated on...me."

Frank gasped. He hadn't expected this.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quickly, nudging his head under Way's chin and wrapping his arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Gerard."

"I thought you were just too good for James." Gerard continued, facing downward, consumed in great thought. "Your skin too soft, your mindset too innocent, your persona too pure." He smiled. "Like a little rabbit. And when we...decided to storm the house, I took a leaf out of the PIRA's book. You know they have the some of the most excruciating torture techniques in the world?"

"Really?" He paused. "You didn't hurt me, though. You were nice to me."

"I wouldn't say nice, baby," was the answer. "One of the techniques they use is to strap a guy to a chair and rape his wife in front of him." He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't rape you, but I...I did things I shouldn't have."

"I enjoyed it," Frank told Gerard's shoulder. He blushed and smiled sheepishly. "You're a good kisser."

"Well, thank you," he replied, nibbling at the cartlage of the boy's ear. "I didn't actually think you'd be that willing. I was only going to do it and then leave." A pause. "But when I saw he had hurt you..." his tone darkened considerably, "...I guess I lost my temper."

"So that's why," Gerard muttered. "That's why I love you. And I could never stand it if you got hurt." He curved his hand around Frank's middle. "I hate seeing those bruises on you."

"But you get hurt all the time," the twenty two year old petitioned. "You got shot on Sunday, and beaten up tonight." His lip trembled. "What if you get hurt?"

"I'm the leader of a heavy-weight blood gang. I have forty nine people who would put their lives on the line for me."

"But there's forty more who want to kill you."

"Well, thirty six now."

"Thirty six, then." He frowned. "What if you die?"

"I won't, baby, I'm made of fucking steel. Imma take a bath now," he kissed Frank on the cheek, "and get cleaned up. See you in a little bit."

Frank sat on the bed, still slightly scared about the situation at hand. If Gerard was killed,h ow would Frank go on? He didn't have anything else. He realized now, this sudden revelation, that he loved this man, that he felt such tremendous, heart-wrenching, emotional attatchment to this gangster. If Gerard died...Frank would find himself helpless, like a sitting duck in the crosshairs of the Romano family.

His thoughts were interrupted by the running gush of water and the disembodied voice of Gerard's rang through the house;

"Gin a body meet a body comin' through the rye..."

Frank marveled at how nice his voice sounded,echoing through the room and the en suite.

"Yet all the lads they smile on me, when comin' thro' the rye..."