Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > So Sick
01
Falling in love with your brother is one thing, but involving other people is a worse idea. Mikey Way should’ve known better. Or at least known how to get out of this predicament.
?Blocked
Pairings: [in order as they happen] Mikey/Frank, Mikey/Bert, Jepha/Mikey/Bert, and of course, Gerard/Mikey
Rating: NC-17
POV: Mikey's
Disclaimer: If owned these boys in real life, I would not be writing this. I probably be getting drunk and high with them. Or at least with Bert.
**
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? It’s a sin, and that thought alone should be enough to stop these thoughts—but if anything—it increases the intensity of it. Why did he provoke such unwanted feelings from me? Feelings un-brotherly and wrong on so many levels. Fuck, I’m so sick. I need fucking help.
He doesn’t notice anything anew. He treats me the same, with affectionate embraces and easy conversations that we’ve always shared as children. It’s always been easy to talk to him about anything and everything, even the conversations most people would properly not feel comfortable conveying to others. Although there is a three years difference between us, there isn’t anything I would keep from him.
Except this.
Sometimes I wish he would really see the real me. The real and disgusting me, who’s tainted with selfish thoughts and sinful wants. I wish he would look at me with hate and disgust, and not love or affection. I don’t deserve his love or his affection.
All these depressing, original thoughts led me to my first mistake.
Frank Iero. The boy who I knew felt crazy about me. Ray, my best friend since grade school, relied this information to me. At first I didn’t think much of it, instantly knowing I was no mood or desires to start any type of relationship with the boy. But as my feelings for my brother increased, I saw no other outlet to stop these destructive thoughts and consented to Frank’s proposal on dating.
I never meant for it to get this far. I swear I didn’t. I never meant…to hurt him. That had never been my intention.
Or maybe it was, maybe, deep down, I wanted him to hurt and feel the pain I was feeling, unable to tell the person I loved most on this earth how I felt. Maybe subconsciously I wanted him to find out I didn’t return his lovesick feelings one day and be torn apart about it. It’s so sick, it’s so wrong, but hey, at least it’s not illegal, right? But it is still immoral.
I knew I had led him too far one day as we lied comfortably on my bed, watching a horror flick after making out, and he said very softly against my neck, “I love you.”
And I froze with fright, instantly wishing he had never said those three words to me. I didn’t deserve them, and most of all, I didn’t want them.
And being the utter bastard I was all I could say was--
“I love you, too.”
His eyes sparkled with light and happiness, increasing my guilt. I wanted to throw up, but managed to contain it, especially since he closed the distance between us and pressed our lips hotly together. I moaned weakly into the kiss, unable to deny the fact I did love the way he made me feel. He made me feel wanted and loved, I’ve always had low-esteem as a child, with my dorky glasses and attraction to all the school bullies. But with Frank, he made it seem as if I were the most desirable person on the earth.
“Mmm,” he hummed in the back of his throat, breaking our heated kiss, his hand trailing softly along my shirt. My shirt was thin enough for me to feel the heat radiating off of him and I shivered at the contact. “You taste like vanilla frosting.”
I blushed, remembering we had cupcakes an hour ago. My mother loved to bake and today she had made vanilla cupcakes. Half of them were gone by the time Frank and I exited the kitchen to my room.
“You do, too,” I replied weakly, pushing him gently down on the bed, burying my face in his neck, moaning in content when his hands slide under my shirt, and back to my hair, gripping my scalp tightly as our kissing progressed to groping, to clothes slowly being peeled away.
“F-frank,” I stuttered when his hand worked the buttons of my jeans, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Shh, baby, I just want to make you feel good,” he said, petting my cheek affectionately, his lips lingering on my jaw. “Just let me do this, ok?”
“Alright,” I replied stiffly, closing my eyes and letting Frank’s trembling hands undo my fly, biting my lip to hold back my gasp when his hand curled around my straining erection.
It never occurred to me someone else’s hand would feel ten times better than my own. Oh fuck, it felt so deliciously good. I bucked my hips upwards, my breath hitching when he gave me a sudden squeeze.
“Shh, Mikey,” he whispered in my ear, and it took me awhile to realize the moans were erupting from my mouth, and I blushed red in embarrassment. He gave a light chuckle, leaning down and pecking my lips softly, his hand managing to keep up with his tantalizing slow pace.
“You’re so adorable,” he teased, his tongue licking the side of my mouth, and I moaned into his open mouth as his pace sped up a bit, arching up to him for more friction.
“Ahh, Frank…” I gasped out, closing my eyes through the onslaught of pleasure coursing through me.
“Shh babe, don’t want your brother to hear,” he said quietly, increasing his pace, swallowing my pitiful cries with his mouth, biting gently on my bottom lip, fucking hurling me to orgasm.
Oh God, Gerard. My brother was in his fucking room, and I knew these walls weren’t thick enough to drown out my whorish moans. I immediately felt disgusted with myself, even more disgusted when I came into Frank’s hand, my cry muffled by his lips on mine, whispering phrases of adoration to me.
“You’re so beautiful,” Frank breathed, reaching for the nearby towel on my bed and wiping his hand clean while I controlled my breathing, wanting to crawl under a rock and die.
“I—“ I faltered. I wanted to return the favor, to make him feel just as amazing as I did, if not better. But mostly because I felt it would help diminish some of the guilt I was feeling.
I playfully pulled him back towards me, my hands eagerly reaching for his fly, but he batted my hands away and I looked at him, hurt. Did he think I wasn’t capable for giving pleasure? Sure, I had never given a hand-job before, but it couldn’t be any different than masturbating…
“No babe, it’s not that,” Frank said firmly, as if reading my mind, “I just want today to be about you. We’ll have plenty of time for me.”
I kissed him softly for being so sweet. Frank was really such a sweet, considerate boyfriend. I’m sure plenty of other boys and girls would’ve died to have him as their boyfriend.
I felt so ungrateful.
**
“Frank is really crazy about you,” stated Ray off-handily as we played Guitar Hero in his room.
I felt that sudden, sick rush of guilt fill me at those words. I missed a chord, too.
“Oh?”
“I mean, Frank has always been smiley and happy, but lately…it’s starting to bug me,” Ray continued, laughing. “I’m expecting an engagement party any day now.”
I felt my heart clench in fear. God, please tell me Frank wasn’t that into it…
“Don’t be silly, it’s just high school,” I said, hoping to god Frank wasn’t thinking along those same lines.
I’m such a fucking bastard if Frank honestly believed we had a chance in hell to spend the rest of our lives together. It would be the worst lie I ever told in my entire life.
“Probably,” Ray said, then said seriously, “I mean…can you see yourself with him in another year?”
“Ray, that's really too soon, and I--"
Too early to start thinking about forever, is it? I wanted to desperately say, but I knew Frank had probably talked to Ray about this. Ray and Frank were close friends, too. And unfortunately, this complicated things. Everything I say could probably get back to Frank in some way or another.
“I mean, sure, Frank is a great guy and I…care about him, but I dunno, Ray,” I answered honestly.
“Ok,” Ray said simply and we continued our aimless game.
I guess had I been smart, this would’ve been a good tip off to end my relationship with Frank.
Unfortunately, it got even worse.
Rating: NC-17
POV: Mikey's
Disclaimer: If owned these boys in real life, I would not be writing this. I probably be getting drunk and high with them. Or at least with Bert.
**
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? It’s a sin, and that thought alone should be enough to stop these thoughts—but if anything—it increases the intensity of it. Why did he provoke such unwanted feelings from me? Feelings un-brotherly and wrong on so many levels. Fuck, I’m so sick. I need fucking help.
He doesn’t notice anything anew. He treats me the same, with affectionate embraces and easy conversations that we’ve always shared as children. It’s always been easy to talk to him about anything and everything, even the conversations most people would properly not feel comfortable conveying to others. Although there is a three years difference between us, there isn’t anything I would keep from him.
Except this.
Sometimes I wish he would really see the real me. The real and disgusting me, who’s tainted with selfish thoughts and sinful wants. I wish he would look at me with hate and disgust, and not love or affection. I don’t deserve his love or his affection.
All these depressing, original thoughts led me to my first mistake.
Frank Iero. The boy who I knew felt crazy about me. Ray, my best friend since grade school, relied this information to me. At first I didn’t think much of it, instantly knowing I was no mood or desires to start any type of relationship with the boy. But as my feelings for my brother increased, I saw no other outlet to stop these destructive thoughts and consented to Frank’s proposal on dating.
I never meant for it to get this far. I swear I didn’t. I never meant…to hurt him. That had never been my intention.
Or maybe it was, maybe, deep down, I wanted him to hurt and feel the pain I was feeling, unable to tell the person I loved most on this earth how I felt. Maybe subconsciously I wanted him to find out I didn’t return his lovesick feelings one day and be torn apart about it. It’s so sick, it’s so wrong, but hey, at least it’s not illegal, right? But it is still immoral.
I knew I had led him too far one day as we lied comfortably on my bed, watching a horror flick after making out, and he said very softly against my neck, “I love you.”
And I froze with fright, instantly wishing he had never said those three words to me. I didn’t deserve them, and most of all, I didn’t want them.
And being the utter bastard I was all I could say was--
“I love you, too.”
His eyes sparkled with light and happiness, increasing my guilt. I wanted to throw up, but managed to contain it, especially since he closed the distance between us and pressed our lips hotly together. I moaned weakly into the kiss, unable to deny the fact I did love the way he made me feel. He made me feel wanted and loved, I’ve always had low-esteem as a child, with my dorky glasses and attraction to all the school bullies. But with Frank, he made it seem as if I were the most desirable person on the earth.
“Mmm,” he hummed in the back of his throat, breaking our heated kiss, his hand trailing softly along my shirt. My shirt was thin enough for me to feel the heat radiating off of him and I shivered at the contact. “You taste like vanilla frosting.”
I blushed, remembering we had cupcakes an hour ago. My mother loved to bake and today she had made vanilla cupcakes. Half of them were gone by the time Frank and I exited the kitchen to my room.
“You do, too,” I replied weakly, pushing him gently down on the bed, burying my face in his neck, moaning in content when his hands slide under my shirt, and back to my hair, gripping my scalp tightly as our kissing progressed to groping, to clothes slowly being peeled away.
“F-frank,” I stuttered when his hand worked the buttons of my jeans, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Shh, baby, I just want to make you feel good,” he said, petting my cheek affectionately, his lips lingering on my jaw. “Just let me do this, ok?”
“Alright,” I replied stiffly, closing my eyes and letting Frank’s trembling hands undo my fly, biting my lip to hold back my gasp when his hand curled around my straining erection.
It never occurred to me someone else’s hand would feel ten times better than my own. Oh fuck, it felt so deliciously good. I bucked my hips upwards, my breath hitching when he gave me a sudden squeeze.
“Shh, Mikey,” he whispered in my ear, and it took me awhile to realize the moans were erupting from my mouth, and I blushed red in embarrassment. He gave a light chuckle, leaning down and pecking my lips softly, his hand managing to keep up with his tantalizing slow pace.
“You’re so adorable,” he teased, his tongue licking the side of my mouth, and I moaned into his open mouth as his pace sped up a bit, arching up to him for more friction.
“Ahh, Frank…” I gasped out, closing my eyes through the onslaught of pleasure coursing through me.
“Shh babe, don’t want your brother to hear,” he said quietly, increasing his pace, swallowing my pitiful cries with his mouth, biting gently on my bottom lip, fucking hurling me to orgasm.
Oh God, Gerard. My brother was in his fucking room, and I knew these walls weren’t thick enough to drown out my whorish moans. I immediately felt disgusted with myself, even more disgusted when I came into Frank’s hand, my cry muffled by his lips on mine, whispering phrases of adoration to me.
“You’re so beautiful,” Frank breathed, reaching for the nearby towel on my bed and wiping his hand clean while I controlled my breathing, wanting to crawl under a rock and die.
“I—“ I faltered. I wanted to return the favor, to make him feel just as amazing as I did, if not better. But mostly because I felt it would help diminish some of the guilt I was feeling.
I playfully pulled him back towards me, my hands eagerly reaching for his fly, but he batted my hands away and I looked at him, hurt. Did he think I wasn’t capable for giving pleasure? Sure, I had never given a hand-job before, but it couldn’t be any different than masturbating…
“No babe, it’s not that,” Frank said firmly, as if reading my mind, “I just want today to be about you. We’ll have plenty of time for me.”
I kissed him softly for being so sweet. Frank was really such a sweet, considerate boyfriend. I’m sure plenty of other boys and girls would’ve died to have him as their boyfriend.
I felt so ungrateful.
**
“Frank is really crazy about you,” stated Ray off-handily as we played Guitar Hero in his room.
I felt that sudden, sick rush of guilt fill me at those words. I missed a chord, too.
“Oh?”
“I mean, Frank has always been smiley and happy, but lately…it’s starting to bug me,” Ray continued, laughing. “I’m expecting an engagement party any day now.”
I felt my heart clench in fear. God, please tell me Frank wasn’t that into it…
“Don’t be silly, it’s just high school,” I said, hoping to god Frank wasn’t thinking along those same lines.
I’m such a fucking bastard if Frank honestly believed we had a chance in hell to spend the rest of our lives together. It would be the worst lie I ever told in my entire life.
“Probably,” Ray said, then said seriously, “I mean…can you see yourself with him in another year?”
“Ray, that's really too soon, and I--"
Too early to start thinking about forever, is it? I wanted to desperately say, but I knew Frank had probably talked to Ray about this. Ray and Frank were close friends, too. And unfortunately, this complicated things. Everything I say could probably get back to Frank in some way or another.
“I mean, sure, Frank is a great guy and I…care about him, but I dunno, Ray,” I answered honestly.
“Ok,” Ray said simply and we continued our aimless game.
I guess had I been smart, this would’ve been a good tip off to end my relationship with Frank.
Unfortunately, it got even worse.
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