Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Karma Police
I love making Gerard such a perv in my stories.
L.N.I.
Bohemian
"Gerard, could you pass me the salt, please?"
Way looks up to his mother, eyes blood-shot and fearing. In the last hour he had been visited by a spirit of a dead sixteen-year-old boy who would 'protect him from the evils of the world'...or something. Who would make Gerard a better person. A better person...with a perfect soul.
Yeah. Good luck, angel boy.
Now, at the dinner-table, the bully is going slightly insane. He glared up at his mother with a mixture of surprise and resentment. He had been focusing on staring intently into his plate of dinner, scowing, brown knitted together. Over his mother's shoulder, the family kitchen radio switched on magically. By itself.
And it's that same fucking song. That same, goddamned, motherfucking song. Karma. Fucking. Police. God, Gerard feels like his head's gonna explode. That low guitar strumming, the chopped piano, the lazy crooning, the fucking lyrics.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"Honey?" Gerard looks up at her again. "Did you hear me? I asked for the salt, sugarmuffin." Donna catches sight of her son's red eyes, his sharp glare, his quiet growl. She laughs nervously and looks to the younger brother.
"Never mind, mom! I got it!" Mikey reassured happily, passing the salt container to his mother. The older brother turned and bared his teeth at the fourteen-year-old, punching him so hard he fell off the seat. Gerard barked a harsh laugh as Missus Way helped Mikey up.
"Gerard, sweetie, is something wrong?" Donna askedightly, sprinkling salt over mashed potatoes. "You look very upset." She cooed softly and wore a sympathetic expression. "Did you have a fight with Bert again, honey?"
Fucking cunt, Gerard thought. Fucking shit-face asshole-
There was then a jab in the bully's side. He looked to his right, and saw his father's chair, but due to his father being away on business, the seat was now occupied by someone else. A boy with soft hazel eyes and ripped jeans. Gerard's mouth fell open and he gasped. He waited for his mother's scream and Mikey's faint at seeing Frank.
Nothing happened.
"Gee?" Mikey leaned across the table and nudged his brother warily, not wanting to anger the older Way. "Gee? What are you looking at?"
"Answer them," was the whisper Gerard heard right in his ear. Frank was talking at a normal sound, but the bully only heard a soft murmuring. His mother and younger brother, meanwhile, just watched on as Gerard gaped at an unseen force. "Don't be rude anymore, Gerard. Tell your mother you had a fight with your boyfriend and that you wish to go to bed early." His eyes softened and his hand rested lightly on the other boy's leg. Suprisingly, Way didn't push it away. "Say sorry to your brother and make conversation with them."
"They can fucking-"
"No swearing, please." The song in the background grew louder again. "Please, Gerard. I don't like being mean to you."
The bully turned to his mother again and sighed. She could only stare at him.
"Uh, yeah...sorry, mom. Fought with Bert. Shi-er, crappy day. People suck. Teachers suck. School definitely sucks." He remained just picking at his food, seperating the potatoes from the bacon from the vegetables. Vegetables, ugh. The anus of the food world. "Oh yeah. Sorry for pushing you off your chair, Mikey."
There was a small silence, the only sound the quiet hums of the radio. The Oasis song-or Radiohead, whatfuckingever- had dumbed down considerably, and for this the oldest kid was extremely grateful. Donna eventually managed to smile a little uncertainly and nodded.
"Well, alright, darling." Her smile wavered just a little. "Are you sick, baby? You're not eating much." She gestured to both her and Mikey's plates; empty. Well, Mikey's still retained carrots, but the kid hated the things with a passion. "I made streaky bacon. Your favourite."
Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard saw Frank recoil a little. Must be a veggie, the bully figured.
"Yeah...just not hungry, I guess," he mumbled, and pushed the plate away. "Feel shi-crappy today. Headache or...yeah, headache." His brow furrowed and he glared at the seat next to him. "Stupid song," Donna heard him mutter.
"Anyone else cold?" Mikey suddenly asks, looking around the room. It was a comfortable August evening, and the breeze was easy; and yet the kitchen was as cold as the nearby freezer. "I swear, this real cold breeze just came in. Look at Bunny."
Eight eyes turned to the Way family cat. She was cowering in the corner of the room, yellow pupils wide and wary. She looked like she was in a trance, in some form of hypnotism. Just gazing mysteriously at a certain spot, mouth open a fraction...and that spot was Frank.
Gerard raised his vision to Frank, preparing such a haughty glare, which turned to variable sympathy when he saw the boy. The ghost was looking into his own lap, sucking his bottom lip, his hazel eyes nearly bright yellow now. They were damp and glistening; an audible sniff exited him. Way suddenly felt indescribable, unbearable sadness. This creature...this...dead spirit...was so beautiful. So...tragically beautiful.
And then Frank was gone. Suddenly and without warning.
"Well, that's better," Donna said happily, looking at her eldest son, who was now pale and shivering. "Gee, honey, are you really alright? You look awful sick."
"Mmm, yeah, guess so," Gerard replied dully, desperately, for some reason, wanting to find Frank. Wanting to do things...he shouldn't. Images of kissing and touching the ghost was not an option...Wolverine tits, Gerard, it's not even alive. It's some weird little guardian angel thing that tortures you with mid-90's crappy indie music. You shouldn't want to be with that. Anyway, you gotta boyfriend. A shitty boyfriend, but..."I think I'm gonna go to bed."
"It's eight o' clock," Mikey pointed out, showing his brother his watch. "I was gonna ask you if you'd help me with my French homework. Since you're so good at it and all."
Gerard nearly snapped-I know what fucking time it is, and fuck no I ain't gonna help you with no French homework, you know I fail every goddamn day-and then the radio turned up louder, the song playing louder than ever. Frank's whisper scorched his ear-'don't be rude. Answer them. No swearing. Please, Gerard.' He caught sight of his plate; the potatoes had magically formed into two letters.
Uh huh, you guessed it. KP.
"Uh..." he stalled for a minute and then swallowed his swears and spits. "I'll do it with ya, tomorrow, 'kay, Mikes? Promise. Just...uh...I wanna get to bed early tonight."
"Alright, honey," Donna declared. "This is very unlike you, sweetie. Do you want me to bring you up anything? Hot chocolate, some toast, some meds?" She pressed a hand to his forehead. "You don't seem feverish."
"Mom, I ain't got AIDS or some shit." That was horrible. Disgusting. Apologize right now, Gerard. "Umm...sorry, no...no...I'm fine, honest. Just...want a good night's sleep." He managed a smile; Donna nearly shrieked at the sight-her son never smiled. "Night, mom. Mikes."
Gerard left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.
"You wanna tell what that was all about?" The bully demanded the minute he reached his bedroom. Frank was sitting on the windowsill, staring out the pane of glass. "You wana tell me why you freaked out the fucking cat and shitted up our radio with that fucking song and then you fucking-"
THIS IS WHAT YOU GET-
Gerard let out a scream as the song exploded from his nearby phone. That wasn't his ring-tone; he didn't even have that fucking song on it. He glared angrily at the dead boy, who was pouting now, crossing his arms, eyes flashing and bright.
"Answer the phone," he instructed through gritted teeth. "It's your boyfriend."
Gerard scowled and glanced at the legend; Bert calling. He slowly raised his head, tipping his fringe out of the way, to stare at the mysterious being. Frank remained steady, just regarding Gerard. Way snapped the phone open and barked into it.
"Yeah, what?"
"G-Gerard?" Bert's unmistakable slur sent angry shivers down the bully's spine. For some reason, he felt angry at Frank, so he turned away with a flourish, snarling. "Y-yo, baby! Didin I tell ya about the-" hiccup. Gerard could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. "The paaaaaaaaar-ty? It's rad. Reeeal fucking rad. M-met these sw-swell dudes here, real good..."
Way was now shaking with anger. He then had to bite back a shriek as Frank was suddenly sitting on his bed, looking up at the bad boy, eyes now softer. He'd even changed clothes into a white shirt and plain black skinny jeans. God, he looked so...so flawless. So perfect. That was the only word Gerard could think of. Even in his toxic cloud of rage, his heart rate quickened considerably when he looked at the ghost.
"What should I..." Way cleared his throat. "What should I say?" He whispered into the room, available to any willing supplier.
"Tell him you're hurt," was a bare murmur. "Tell him you'd be really appreciative if he didn't sleep with anyone tonight. That you love-you don't love him, do you?" Frank said quietly, and the only sound in the room was drunken singing and shouting over the phone. "Oh no, Gerard," Frank lisped, standing up, running his hands through his hair. "Oh no, Gerard, that is awful. Don't think that." He turned to Way, honeyduke eyes filled with tears. "You have to love the person you're with. Oh no, oh no, this is so wrong...I can't...no..."
"G-Gerald?" Bert blurted out on the phone. "Oh-oh, Gerard! O-oh yeaaaah...uh...I'll see you Monday...oh babe yeah do it-"
Gerard closed the phone and dropped it on the floor. He walked over to Frankie, who was pressed up against his wardrobe, lip quivering. The ghost closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"Oh, Gerard, no...that is so bad..." he rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't-please stop thinking those things. Oh no, I'm in so much trouble...."
"What?" The bully demanded. "Tell me what you're spazzing over."
The younger one shook a little, biting his lip, not meeting Gerard's gaze, eyes filled with crystal tears. To his horror, when the water trickled down Frank's cheek, it was not water but blood. Red, thick, metallic blood. Gerard watched as the fluid ran down the ghost's ample cheeks. It would start off as tears and slink into blood once it exited his eyes.
"Frankie?" Gerard purred, pressing up against him. He'd never really thought he'd ever be coming onto some dead sixteen year old kid who happened to be his karma police officer. Well, there's a first for eveything, I guess. "Tell me what's wrong with you, baby."
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"B-b-baby?" Frank rasped, and then flushed bright pink. "Don't-don't do that-stop. Stop, you shouldn't-Gerard." He glared at him suddenly. "You can't kiss me, Gerard. Don't think about it because you can't do it. You can't."
"Why not?" Gerard breathed, wearing a satisfied smirk. He slipped his hands under the belt of the ghost and Frank gasped quietly. Gerard leaned in to him and took in a great sniff of his scent; so gorgeous...like honey. Then his tongue slipped from his mouth and licked a stripe along the officer's neck.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
Oh, Gerard. Some people just don't learn.
Suddenly the bully found himself on his bed, stapped down to the mattress. Blue binds secured him to the bed and tugged at his wrists and his ankles. The eighteen-year-old pulled at the rope but nothing happened. Frank was standing, back to him, wisps of black smoke rifting from his hair. Gerard looked again, carefully; there was actually smoke coming from the boy.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"Say sorry," the dead boy snuffled. He was crying. For some reason, Gerard felt utterly disgusting for making such an innocent thing cry. Not to mention fucking feeling him up just a minute ago. But God, his skin was so soft and so warm, and he smelled so good, and these only aided the police officer's aesthetic qualities. "Say sorry for doing that." A deep sniff. "Say sorry for your impure thoughts and touching me in bad ways. Do it now or your punishment will be worse."
Frankie's tone was so sad and hurt that the bully stumbled over his words to apologize. He lifted his head and attempted to talk to his back.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"I'm...I'm sorry," he said clearly, nodding to show he was sincere. "I...I'm real sorry, Frankie. For...thinking bad things and doing stuff to you you didn't like. I'm sorry." He shuffled a little and the binds seemed a little more brittle now. "I just...Bert's cheating on me and I don't love him, I'm just there for the sex, and you...you're so gorgeous, Frankie. I just wanted to kiss you, not rape you or anything."
Frank's shoulders shifted a little and then the ropes fell from his limbs. Gerard pushed himself off the bed and approached the dead thing slowly, carefully. He didn't want Iero to freak out again.
"Yes... but...you're not...you're not allowed. Even if I wanted to-but I don't! And you can't...and I won't...oh no. Please stop thinking those things. I-oh my Lord, Gerard, what was that?"
Gerard shrugged. He had been thinking of...doing something to Frank he had done so many times before. He imagined that the boy would be so thin, but so soft and so goddamn good. Frank would obviosly be bottom, Gerard was the top all the time-
"Top? Bottom?" The karma police officer said quietly, cocking his head to the side. "What are you talking about? Bunk beds or something?"
Way's mouth nearly touched the ground as he watched the confusion flicker across Frankie's face. He honestly had no idea what Gerard was thinking about. The bully smirked wide, but then foregoed his smile. He didn't want to freak out the kid, ruin his perfection as it were.
"Frankie..." he breathed in his ear. The dead boy shivered...his hand even brushed against Gerard's chest. "You never...ah...you a virgin?"
Frankie looked at him cautiously.
"What do you mean?"
Gerard smirked.
"You never had sex before, precious," Way purred sinfully, sliding his hand down his ass. Frank gasped again, red flushing his cheeks. "No one's ever taken you before." He chuckled darkly. "I could help you with that..."
There was a quick whooshing sound and Gerard found himself in the bed again, simpering devilishly. Frank was sitting on the windowledge, tutting and shaking his head.
"Oh Gerard," he murmured. "I have a lot of work to do."
L.N.I.
Bohemian
"Gerard, could you pass me the salt, please?"
Way looks up to his mother, eyes blood-shot and fearing. In the last hour he had been visited by a spirit of a dead sixteen-year-old boy who would 'protect him from the evils of the world'...or something. Who would make Gerard a better person. A better person...with a perfect soul.
Yeah. Good luck, angel boy.
Now, at the dinner-table, the bully is going slightly insane. He glared up at his mother with a mixture of surprise and resentment. He had been focusing on staring intently into his plate of dinner, scowing, brown knitted together. Over his mother's shoulder, the family kitchen radio switched on magically. By itself.
And it's that same fucking song. That same, goddamned, motherfucking song. Karma. Fucking. Police. God, Gerard feels like his head's gonna explode. That low guitar strumming, the chopped piano, the lazy crooning, the fucking lyrics.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"Honey?" Gerard looks up at her again. "Did you hear me? I asked for the salt, sugarmuffin." Donna catches sight of her son's red eyes, his sharp glare, his quiet growl. She laughs nervously and looks to the younger brother.
"Never mind, mom! I got it!" Mikey reassured happily, passing the salt container to his mother. The older brother turned and bared his teeth at the fourteen-year-old, punching him so hard he fell off the seat. Gerard barked a harsh laugh as Missus Way helped Mikey up.
"Gerard, sweetie, is something wrong?" Donna askedightly, sprinkling salt over mashed potatoes. "You look very upset." She cooed softly and wore a sympathetic expression. "Did you have a fight with Bert again, honey?"
Fucking cunt, Gerard thought. Fucking shit-face asshole-
There was then a jab in the bully's side. He looked to his right, and saw his father's chair, but due to his father being away on business, the seat was now occupied by someone else. A boy with soft hazel eyes and ripped jeans. Gerard's mouth fell open and he gasped. He waited for his mother's scream and Mikey's faint at seeing Frank.
Nothing happened.
"Gee?" Mikey leaned across the table and nudged his brother warily, not wanting to anger the older Way. "Gee? What are you looking at?"
"Answer them," was the whisper Gerard heard right in his ear. Frank was talking at a normal sound, but the bully only heard a soft murmuring. His mother and younger brother, meanwhile, just watched on as Gerard gaped at an unseen force. "Don't be rude anymore, Gerard. Tell your mother you had a fight with your boyfriend and that you wish to go to bed early." His eyes softened and his hand rested lightly on the other boy's leg. Suprisingly, Way didn't push it away. "Say sorry to your brother and make conversation with them."
"They can fucking-"
"No swearing, please." The song in the background grew louder again. "Please, Gerard. I don't like being mean to you."
The bully turned to his mother again and sighed. She could only stare at him.
"Uh, yeah...sorry, mom. Fought with Bert. Shi-er, crappy day. People suck. Teachers suck. School definitely sucks." He remained just picking at his food, seperating the potatoes from the bacon from the vegetables. Vegetables, ugh. The anus of the food world. "Oh yeah. Sorry for pushing you off your chair, Mikey."
There was a small silence, the only sound the quiet hums of the radio. The Oasis song-or Radiohead, whatfuckingever- had dumbed down considerably, and for this the oldest kid was extremely grateful. Donna eventually managed to smile a little uncertainly and nodded.
"Well, alright, darling." Her smile wavered just a little. "Are you sick, baby? You're not eating much." She gestured to both her and Mikey's plates; empty. Well, Mikey's still retained carrots, but the kid hated the things with a passion. "I made streaky bacon. Your favourite."
Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard saw Frank recoil a little. Must be a veggie, the bully figured.
"Yeah...just not hungry, I guess," he mumbled, and pushed the plate away. "Feel shi-crappy today. Headache or...yeah, headache." His brow furrowed and he glared at the seat next to him. "Stupid song," Donna heard him mutter.
"Anyone else cold?" Mikey suddenly asks, looking around the room. It was a comfortable August evening, and the breeze was easy; and yet the kitchen was as cold as the nearby freezer. "I swear, this real cold breeze just came in. Look at Bunny."
Eight eyes turned to the Way family cat. She was cowering in the corner of the room, yellow pupils wide and wary. She looked like she was in a trance, in some form of hypnotism. Just gazing mysteriously at a certain spot, mouth open a fraction...and that spot was Frank.
Gerard raised his vision to Frank, preparing such a haughty glare, which turned to variable sympathy when he saw the boy. The ghost was looking into his own lap, sucking his bottom lip, his hazel eyes nearly bright yellow now. They were damp and glistening; an audible sniff exited him. Way suddenly felt indescribable, unbearable sadness. This creature...this...dead spirit...was so beautiful. So...tragically beautiful.
And then Frank was gone. Suddenly and without warning.
"Well, that's better," Donna said happily, looking at her eldest son, who was now pale and shivering. "Gee, honey, are you really alright? You look awful sick."
"Mmm, yeah, guess so," Gerard replied dully, desperately, for some reason, wanting to find Frank. Wanting to do things...he shouldn't. Images of kissing and touching the ghost was not an option...Wolverine tits, Gerard, it's not even alive. It's some weird little guardian angel thing that tortures you with mid-90's crappy indie music. You shouldn't want to be with that. Anyway, you gotta boyfriend. A shitty boyfriend, but..."I think I'm gonna go to bed."
"It's eight o' clock," Mikey pointed out, showing his brother his watch. "I was gonna ask you if you'd help me with my French homework. Since you're so good at it and all."
Gerard nearly snapped-I know what fucking time it is, and fuck no I ain't gonna help you with no French homework, you know I fail every goddamn day-and then the radio turned up louder, the song playing louder than ever. Frank's whisper scorched his ear-'don't be rude. Answer them. No swearing. Please, Gerard.' He caught sight of his plate; the potatoes had magically formed into two letters.
Uh huh, you guessed it. KP.
"Uh..." he stalled for a minute and then swallowed his swears and spits. "I'll do it with ya, tomorrow, 'kay, Mikes? Promise. Just...uh...I wanna get to bed early tonight."
"Alright, honey," Donna declared. "This is very unlike you, sweetie. Do you want me to bring you up anything? Hot chocolate, some toast, some meds?" She pressed a hand to his forehead. "You don't seem feverish."
"Mom, I ain't got AIDS or some shit." That was horrible. Disgusting. Apologize right now, Gerard. "Umm...sorry, no...no...I'm fine, honest. Just...want a good night's sleep." He managed a smile; Donna nearly shrieked at the sight-her son never smiled. "Night, mom. Mikes."
Gerard left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.
"You wanna tell what that was all about?" The bully demanded the minute he reached his bedroom. Frank was sitting on the windowsill, staring out the pane of glass. "You wana tell me why you freaked out the fucking cat and shitted up our radio with that fucking song and then you fucking-"
THIS IS WHAT YOU GET-
Gerard let out a scream as the song exploded from his nearby phone. That wasn't his ring-tone; he didn't even have that fucking song on it. He glared angrily at the dead boy, who was pouting now, crossing his arms, eyes flashing and bright.
"Answer the phone," he instructed through gritted teeth. "It's your boyfriend."
Gerard scowled and glanced at the legend; Bert calling. He slowly raised his head, tipping his fringe out of the way, to stare at the mysterious being. Frank remained steady, just regarding Gerard. Way snapped the phone open and barked into it.
"Yeah, what?"
"G-Gerard?" Bert's unmistakable slur sent angry shivers down the bully's spine. For some reason, he felt angry at Frank, so he turned away with a flourish, snarling. "Y-yo, baby! Didin I tell ya about the-" hiccup. Gerard could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. "The paaaaaaaaar-ty? It's rad. Reeeal fucking rad. M-met these sw-swell dudes here, real good..."
Way was now shaking with anger. He then had to bite back a shriek as Frank was suddenly sitting on his bed, looking up at the bad boy, eyes now softer. He'd even changed clothes into a white shirt and plain black skinny jeans. God, he looked so...so flawless. So perfect. That was the only word Gerard could think of. Even in his toxic cloud of rage, his heart rate quickened considerably when he looked at the ghost.
"What should I..." Way cleared his throat. "What should I say?" He whispered into the room, available to any willing supplier.
"Tell him you're hurt," was a bare murmur. "Tell him you'd be really appreciative if he didn't sleep with anyone tonight. That you love-you don't love him, do you?" Frank said quietly, and the only sound in the room was drunken singing and shouting over the phone. "Oh no, Gerard," Frank lisped, standing up, running his hands through his hair. "Oh no, Gerard, that is awful. Don't think that." He turned to Way, honeyduke eyes filled with tears. "You have to love the person you're with. Oh no, oh no, this is so wrong...I can't...no..."
"G-Gerald?" Bert blurted out on the phone. "Oh-oh, Gerard! O-oh yeaaaah...uh...I'll see you Monday...oh babe yeah do it-"
Gerard closed the phone and dropped it on the floor. He walked over to Frankie, who was pressed up against his wardrobe, lip quivering. The ghost closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"Oh, Gerard, no...that is so bad..." he rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't-please stop thinking those things. Oh no, I'm in so much trouble...."
"What?" The bully demanded. "Tell me what you're spazzing over."
The younger one shook a little, biting his lip, not meeting Gerard's gaze, eyes filled with crystal tears. To his horror, when the water trickled down Frank's cheek, it was not water but blood. Red, thick, metallic blood. Gerard watched as the fluid ran down the ghost's ample cheeks. It would start off as tears and slink into blood once it exited his eyes.
"Frankie?" Gerard purred, pressing up against him. He'd never really thought he'd ever be coming onto some dead sixteen year old kid who happened to be his karma police officer. Well, there's a first for eveything, I guess. "Tell me what's wrong with you, baby."
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"B-b-baby?" Frank rasped, and then flushed bright pink. "Don't-don't do that-stop. Stop, you shouldn't-Gerard." He glared at him suddenly. "You can't kiss me, Gerard. Don't think about it because you can't do it. You can't."
"Why not?" Gerard breathed, wearing a satisfied smirk. He slipped his hands under the belt of the ghost and Frank gasped quietly. Gerard leaned in to him and took in a great sniff of his scent; so gorgeous...like honey. Then his tongue slipped from his mouth and licked a stripe along the officer's neck.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
Oh, Gerard. Some people just don't learn.
Suddenly the bully found himself on his bed, stapped down to the mattress. Blue binds secured him to the bed and tugged at his wrists and his ankles. The eighteen-year-old pulled at the rope but nothing happened. Frank was standing, back to him, wisps of black smoke rifting from his hair. Gerard looked again, carefully; there was actually smoke coming from the boy.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"Say sorry," the dead boy snuffled. He was crying. For some reason, Gerard felt utterly disgusting for making such an innocent thing cry. Not to mention fucking feeling him up just a minute ago. But God, his skin was so soft and so warm, and he smelled so good, and these only aided the police officer's aesthetic qualities. "Say sorry for doing that." A deep sniff. "Say sorry for your impure thoughts and touching me in bad ways. Do it now or your punishment will be worse."
Frankie's tone was so sad and hurt that the bully stumbled over his words to apologize. He lifted his head and attempted to talk to his back.
This is what you get when you mess with us...
"I'm...I'm sorry," he said clearly, nodding to show he was sincere. "I...I'm real sorry, Frankie. For...thinking bad things and doing stuff to you you didn't like. I'm sorry." He shuffled a little and the binds seemed a little more brittle now. "I just...Bert's cheating on me and I don't love him, I'm just there for the sex, and you...you're so gorgeous, Frankie. I just wanted to kiss you, not rape you or anything."
Frank's shoulders shifted a little and then the ropes fell from his limbs. Gerard pushed himself off the bed and approached the dead thing slowly, carefully. He didn't want Iero to freak out again.
"Yes... but...you're not...you're not allowed. Even if I wanted to-but I don't! And you can't...and I won't...oh no. Please stop thinking those things. I-oh my Lord, Gerard, what was that?"
Gerard shrugged. He had been thinking of...doing something to Frank he had done so many times before. He imagined that the boy would be so thin, but so soft and so goddamn good. Frank would obviosly be bottom, Gerard was the top all the time-
"Top? Bottom?" The karma police officer said quietly, cocking his head to the side. "What are you talking about? Bunk beds or something?"
Way's mouth nearly touched the ground as he watched the confusion flicker across Frankie's face. He honestly had no idea what Gerard was thinking about. The bully smirked wide, but then foregoed his smile. He didn't want to freak out the kid, ruin his perfection as it were.
"Frankie..." he breathed in his ear. The dead boy shivered...his hand even brushed against Gerard's chest. "You never...ah...you a virgin?"
Frankie looked at him cautiously.
"What do you mean?"
Gerard smirked.
"You never had sex before, precious," Way purred sinfully, sliding his hand down his ass. Frank gasped again, red flushing his cheeks. "No one's ever taken you before." He chuckled darkly. "I could help you with that..."
There was a quick whooshing sound and Gerard found himself in the bed again, simpering devilishly. Frank was sitting on the windowledge, tutting and shaking his head.
"Oh Gerard," he murmured. "I have a lot of work to do."
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