FicWad

This was written, with permission, based on a "comic":http://archiveofourown.org/works/260296 drawn by the lovely partypoison on AO3

There was an amiable breeze crawling through the desert. It swirled Party Poison's hair around his face, the cherry red strands lashing his face and neck, though not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be detectable.

Party Poison closed his eyes, leaning back into the driver's door of the Trans Am. His head tilted back, exposing his face to the hot sun and dry desert air. It wasn't something he would do often, let himself enjoy the clement rays of the sun that is. This wasn't a trip to the beach on a warm summers day, where you could freely enjoy the warmth the sun radiated without worrying about any repercussions. This was California 2019, a new world, with new hazards. It was his life, and he wouldn't be so careless with it, he refused. Sometimes, he thought, living in this new world was a lot like being a vampire. The sun was poisonous and everyone was against you, bar everyone else like you (which in Poison's case was a very limited number of people.) It wasn't just him and his friends either, no, it was everyone on both sides. As far as Party Poison was concerned, there were no bad guys, and there were no good guys. There were just the killjoys, and Better Living Industries. Both as bad as each other.

The smell of cheap cigarette smoke brought Poison out of his thoughts, the musky scent invading his nostrils. Normally he would have drawn his ray gun, preparing to shoot down a draculoid. But he knew exactly who it was, he had been waiting for him, after all.

Poison didn't trust the man stood next to him, he had no reason to. He looked over the man with dark hair, cut short to conform to Better Living's standards. His uniform was a pristine white, not a wrinkle in sight, the only fault being his popped jacket collar. A rectangular BLI badge hung from his left coat pocket. FRANK IERO, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, it read. His cancer stick hung loosely from between his lips, Party Poison never wanted to be a cigarette more in his life.

"Right on schedule, killjoy." Gho- Frank. He was Frank now, and it would do Poison well to remember that. Frank took another drag from the cigarette.

Poison didn't like Frank too much. He was a pompous asshole, acted like he could walk on water or some shit. Poison hated it, hated him. He hated the way Frank could get under his skin with just a few simple words, or even just a simple look.

"Shut up." The words are being spat out of Poison's mouth like venom before he can even think. He regrets the words immediately. Frank was just looking to get a rise out of him, and that's exactly what Poison gave him. He needed to learn to control himself around Frank better.

"How's the family?" He asks, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and stubbing it out under the sole of his bulky brown boot.

"I said, shut up." He knew he was crossing a line there, and had absolutely no reservations about it. "You don't get to talk about them anymore, you lost that privilege. Talk smack to me all you want, but leave them out of this." Whatever this was.

"Or what? You'll ghost me?" An amused smirk pulled across Frank's face as he got closer, leaning in so his mouth was next to Poison's. He could feel Frank's warm breath ghosting across his face, his lips. Poison's eyes closed for a moment, remembering why they were here. "You wouldn't. You still love me too much." Frank's confidence in himself brought back the anger Poison had felt before. His eyes snapped open in a glare, pointed directly at Frank.

"Don't act so tough, Party Poison. We both know why you're here. With me." Frank continued to disregard the dirty looks Poison was shooting his way. "You couldn't stay away from me if you tried, could you? Otherwise you would be back with your pathetic little gang of killjoys, running around and pretending you mean something. Frank's words cut through Poison like knives and pins.

"Get naked." There was no emotion in Frank's voice as he turned from Party Poison, running his hands along the Trans Am, if Poison didn't know any better in a nostalgic manner, and looking off to the vacant horizon.

Poison carefully removed his clothes, starting with his black boots and moving up to his black shirt. Frank turned back around so he was facing Party Poison as soon as he was done.

"Arms back, killjoy." Poison did as he was told, moving his hands behind his back. Apparently not fast enough as Frank roughly jerked his arms back, holding his wrists together with one hand, the other reaching down to the pile of clothes Party Poison had discarded and retrieving his yellow bandana. Frank hastily tied the bright piece of fabric around Poison's wrists, wasting no time.

A sharp rush of air left Party Poison's lips when Frank's hands landed hard on his shoulders, driving the killjoy back onto a hard bed of desert sand. A flare of pain shot through Poison's arms when he landed on his back, and a small cry pressed passed his dry, cracked lips. It wasn't long before Frank followed the line of consecution he had set for Poison, straddling the older man's hips.

Poison groaned from the friction Frank's actions elicited, causing him to grow hard with want. Frank's lips found his collarbone, sucking and biting at the supple flesh. Frank's barrage continued down Poison's torso, drawing blood to the surface of his skin, leaving several arresting bruises. Each one a reminder that Poison was his, and a warning to anyone who decide to demur his claim.

Frank's mouth moved back up Poison's torso, to his right nipple. He took the small projection of skin in his mouth, and Poison's back arched up off the ground. a nearly silent moan passing from his parted lips.

Frank continued his attack on the rising flesh, sucking it in between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it while one of his hands moved to the other one. Nimble, tattooed fingers twisted the taut flesh to attention.

Poison was so distracted by what Frank's tongue was doing that he didn't pay any mind when his fingers left his other nipple.

A biting whimper left Poison's lips when Frank's mouth was replaced by the sharp clamp of his badge, the silver glinting in the afternoon sun like a shiny, new penny. Then Frank's blowing cool air onto the ridged skin, moist with his saliva, and a strangled moan is making its way up Poison's throat. By this point Poison's so hard he's leaking precum like a cataract. He suspects that Frank is too, but he's put that mask on again, the one that says 'I could do this all day and not feel a single thing'. He's perfected the guise, so no emotion shows through; he knows how it gets on Poison's nerves.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, would you like that?" Frank's voice is seductive, and clandestine, like a killer stalking his next victim, luring them to their demise. How fitting. Poison thinks briefly, the thought vanishing when he's turned onto his front.

Frank grips his hips in a vice and pulls up until his knees are firmly holding his ass in the air. Poison's shoulders and knees, which are still bruised from their last encounter in an abandoned gas station, burn against the gritty desert sand as Frank spreads his legs open as far as he can. Poison's legs end up in an awkward stance, one of them bent uncomfortably to the side at the knee, and his toes stretched, bent under his foot as a brace.

Poison doesn't get a chance to answer Frank's question, because in a flash Frank's unbuckling his belt and shoving his white pants, now riddled with dirt on the knees from where he had been kneeling over Poison, down around his thighs. Then he's thrusting into Poison to the hilt, not bothering to prep the killjoy.

Frank's pace is fast, brutal even, and it doesn't let up as he moves his hands from where they had been resting on Gerard's ass, spreading his cheeks open, to his forearms. With every thrust he pulls back on Poison's arms, bringing Poison's body back to meet his plunge, their bodies coming together in a dire union.

Poison had been trying his best to hold back his moans, to deny Frank the self assured pleasure he got from knowing he could make Poison crumble under his touch. He didn't last very long, however, a few minutes at most. When he finally broke down, and let the moans escape the confines of his throat, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the way the corners of Frank's mouth turned up into a smug simper.

"Missed me, huh?" Despite the questioning tone, Poison knows it wasn't a question at all, a statement actually. Frank knew, and Party Poison couldn't deny it, he had missed him.

"Yes." Came his reply in a heavy breath. Frank had hit that bundle of nerves buried deep within Party Poison, and it, for lack of a better phrase, took his breath away. He was gasping and panting, trying to regain the thing he needed so badly, the thing that had been stolen from him. Frank... please."

Frank's hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling Poison up against his chest, a much more desirable position from the previous one. Hands wandered back down his sides, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other going around to wrap around his painfully hard cock.

"Frank..." Poison screwed his eyes shut and leaned further into Frank, a support beam, as he felt his climax coming closer.

"That's it. Come on." Frank's hand sped up, along with his thrusts which were getting sloppier and sloppier by the second. Poison's orgasm came up on him like a train, speeding down the tracks and he exploded into Frank's hand, and on his stomach. It kind of derailed him, how fast, and unexpected it had come up on him. Frank followed seconds after, his seed filling Poison's ass, sticky and warm.

Both men were left panting, trying desperately to regain their breath. Frank was still holding Poison to him, his forehead resting on his bruised shoulder. Poison made a sound, somewhere in between a mewl and a pained whimper, Frank still gripping his oversensitive dick tightly in his fist, and then it was all over. The nice, gentle moment over in a flash.

Frank pushed Poison back down onto the bed of sand and pebbles, earning a grunt from Poison. He pulled up his pants, re-buckling his belt before untying Poison's hands.

Poison sat up, brushing the dirt off his skin as best he could while Frank went off and did whatever. He was more focused on his aching body.

He was cleaning the virtually microscopic pebbles that had embedded themselves into his stomach during their activities when he heard Frank's footsteps behind him. He carried on with his task, ignoring the painful jerk his heart gave when he thought about Frank. It was all fun and games until it was over. Once it was over there was no more pretending that he didn't love Frank, that he didn't need him. There was no more denying the ache that came with not being around Frank, not like he used to. They used to be inseparable. Now, they came, they fucked, and they left it at that.

Poison didn't bother looking up again until the heavy leather of his jacket was being placed around his shoulders, followed closely by a pair of tattooed arms. He leant back into the comforting embrace, his one last chance to enjoy being in Frank's company before they parted ways.

He had lit another cigarette, something he always did after they fucked. He held it up to Poison's lips, letting him take a drag before he let go all together, only keeping a hold on Poison's wrist, bruised from his bonds.

"Secret?" He asked, taking another drag off the cigarette. "Sometimes I miss you, too." Frank brought the back of Poison's hand up to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. The act made butterflies erupt into a frenzy in his stomach. It wasn't a Frank thing to do at all, if Poison didn't know better, he would say that Frank didn't have a kind bone in his body. It was just like Ghoul though, and that little thought brought hope back to him, hope that Ghoul was still somewhere in there.

"See you around, Gerard."