FicWad

Frank excitedly pulled me to the front doorstep of Quinn’s house, his hand holding mine tightly. Once we were inside, we were ushered into the kitchen for drinks. We had to make our way over a throng of people to finally get them. Frank was sweet enough to get one for me.

“Great right?” he asked, smiling widely, managing to drain his in one gulp. “You’re a lightweight, so I wouldn’t drink too much.”

I would have not minded him stating this, if we weren’t surrounded by people. It might it seem like I was his kid brother more than his boyfriend. But I let it slide, letting him aimlessly introduce me to numerous people. I really didn't care and kept glancing at my watch. A hour. I could handle that, right? Neverminding the fact I hated being around people I didn't know. Gerard knew that, he would've known this is was a bad idea. But urgh, Frankie didn't know and he certainly wasn't my brother.

“That’s Bert—he’s a bit on the crazy side,” Frank told me before the tall, thin, dark haired wasted teen came up in front of us.

I’m pretty sure I could figure out he was a bit intoxicated, he nearly tripped on his own two feet to make his way over. Closer, I tell his pupils were dilated.

“Hey Frankie,” he said, swaying on his feet. “If you’re looking for Quinn—he’s out playing pool in the garage.”

“Oh ok,” said Frank, “Bert, this is Mikey, my boyfriend.”

I won’t lie; it was nice to hear him say it like that. Bert’s eyes lit up at the word ‘boyfriend’ and glanced at me. I couldn’t decide if it was a look of distaste, but it felt like that. I suddenly felt very foolish being next to Frank.

“Boyfriend, eh?” he said to Frank, raising a brow. Frank blushed, reaching for my hand and simply said, “Yeah.”

“Cute,” he said, scratching his head as if in confusion, before going into the kitchen.

“FRANKIE! Where have you been!” exclaimed a high-hitched voice, that belonged to the one and only---

“Quinn!” said Frank, walking over to embrace his friend in a hug, then stepping back, smiling. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he said, then pulled at Frank’s sleeve. “I’ve been waiting for you. The guys want to jam a bit. We have a spare guitar. Just like old times, eh?”

Frank shook his head, tilting his head in my direction. “I would but Mi—“

“Just go,” I said, feeling as if Quinn would throttle me if I kept Frank back. I didn’t want to be a nuisance. It was his birthday, after all. Besides, I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of Frank following me around like a puppy dog.

“You sure?” he asked, and Quinn sniggered.

“Dude, he said it was ok, hurry up, the guys are waiting,” huffed Quinn, leading Frank in the direction of the garage, and I could hear them talking animatedly down the hallway.

“So Mikey, what do you do for fun?” Bert asked me, coming out of the kitchen, another drink in his hand.

“I—err. Not much, really,” I replied honestly, wishing I could say I played the guitar like Frank, or skateboard like Quinn, but honestly I had no such talents.

“Well, my friends and I were playing a little game. Want to join?” he asked, leading me to the center of the living room where other teens were surrounding the coffee table, the table cluttered with half empty cups.

“Sure,” I said, figuring it wouldn’t hurt. I’ve drank before and knew most drinking games from my older brother, so I knew I wouldn’t look like a complete idiot.

“Kelsy, this is Mikey,” Bert said, introducing me to the brunette girl closest to us. “I don’t think he’s played this game before.”

He winked at her. I smiled sheepishly at her.

She smiled at me, and for some odd reason, it relieved me. She had a nice, friendly smile. “Then you should sit next to me, Mikey. I’ll quickly go over the rules with you.”

“Better her than me,” Bert laughed, sitting down next to the table.
**

By the third drink, I was definitely incoherent. I couldn’t see straight, but it didn’t matter. The feelings coursing through me overrode any worry. Frank had been gone for an hour now, but maybe this was a good thing.

“He’s totally gone,” Kelsy remarked, reaching up to brush the hair off my forehead. “It looks like he got the lucky drink.”

“Lucky bastard,” remarked Bert.

“I—I should—g-go—“ I stuttered, struggling to stand up, but my legs felt unusually heavy and collapsed over Kelsy and Bert.

“Whoa, you’re not going anywhere,” Bert told me calmly, sitting beside me and wrestling against me. “Just wait it out. First time, eh?”

“For what?” I asked, the prickling feeling now shooting up and down my legs. “W-what did you give me?”

Someone in the background chuckled, and I felt a cold hand run down my arm, making me shiver how unusually good it felt for someone to do something so mundane but cause so much nerve endings to erupt in pleasure.

I managed to push Bert’s hands off of me, wishing to be dunked in a stream of cold water. I felt unbearably warm. I yelped when Bert’s hand came in contact with my burning face. He chuckled, moving closer to examine me, and I was all aware of his proximity, but lacking the strength or desire to push him away.

“So Mikey, how do you feel?” he asked, and my breath hitched when his cheek came in contact with mine, his stubble scratching my face.

“Like I’m gonna puke,” I replied honestly, my voice hoarse.

He quickly pulled me off the couch, directing me to the bathroom. I gladly crawled my way to the toilet, opening the lid and heaving, but my stomach refused to let anything out. I felt as if I had to let something out in order to get rid of this sickly feeling. Bert crouched down, his face concerned.

“Calm down, Mikey, you’re panting,” he said, and I realized he was right. I was scared because I had no idea what my body was doing anymore.

He helped me up and got a washcloth, running it under the tap and handing it to me, and I put it on my forehead, sighing how good it felt. He chuckled. I smiled at him weakly, thanking him.

“W-what are you doing?” I weakly protested when his lips came in contact with mine, my hand fisting his shirt, unsure to push him away or pull him closer.

“Kissing you,” he answered, leaning back in, his hand reaching up to gently grasp my jaw, colliding our lips tightly against each other. I moaned how wonderful it felt. Bert had a different approach to kissing. He start out gentle and soft, playing the submissive role nicely, then morph into bruising and hard, his tongue seeking entrance into my mouth and dominating the kiss.

I gasped when he captured my lower lip between his teeth and bit down, and he chuckled against our pressed lips, his other hand resting on my hip, pressing me against the sink.

“Bert—-I-—“ I manage to get out, but fell silent when his hand reached under my shirt, and I eagerly bucked towards his wandering hand, my hands wrapping themselves shamelessly around him, giving in the pleasurable sensations and how everything seem to tenfold, probably due to the drug he gave me. Rationally, I knew I was drugged and heavily under the influence. But honestly, kissing and making out had never felt so good and pleasurable, that I couldn’t resist it. He was really a good kisser, and I told him so, giggling.

“You’re really an adorable drunk,” he told me.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt his hand tug at my belt, and I reached down quickly to do it myself, finding my hands shaking greatly, but managed to unbuckle and unzip them, and Bert crouched down to roll my pants and boxers down, coming back up and unclothing himself. I find myself assisting him, my hands greedy to feel his flesh under my fingertips, and I shamelessly groped every part of him I could, turning me on greatly when he moaned as my hand curled around his straining length.

“Mmm, you sure get to the point, Mikey,” he commented, his kisses moving up my neck and breathed into my ear hotly, “and I like that. A lot.”

“I aim to please,” I answered coyly, wondering where this newfound confidence had come from.

“Mmm, we really don’t have much time,” he said, panting heavily as my hand continued to pump him, and I find myself turned around, my hands flying to hold onto the edge of the sink, feeling him rummage through the cabinets and moving behind me, and I closed my eyes, picturing what was to come. I gasped out weakly when I felt something cold and slippery at my entrance, and one of his fingers slide inside me, and I huffed against the foreign intrusion.

“You gotta be quiet,” he rasped into my ear, adding a second finger, and I couldn’t help the moan that made its way out.

But the time he managed to fit three fingers inside, he covered my mouth with his other hand, muffling my screams. I shuddered when it brushed against a certain place inside of me.

“Ahh, god, please—“ I begged, bucking up against him, squeezing my eyes shut. It hurt, but at the same time, it felt unbelievably good, and I found myself questioning why I had always been so wary to try this with Frank. I felt a huge ache of guilt spill over me, remembering the promise I made to Frank months ago, and how I was about to break that sacred promise.

“Please what?” he asked, nibbling on my earlobe, removing his hand to my hip, joining the other he had placed on the other side.

“Fuck me,” I said quietly, bowing my head down in embarrassment how quickly he had me begging. How quickly he had managed to make me forget all about my morals. I could turn back now, but why? I had already cheated, and why not go all the way?

“What’s the magic word?” he toyed with me.

“Now! Fuck me now!” I nearly yelled, looking behind me and glaring. “Fucker.”

He gave a little joyful laugh and I grunted when he made our bodies connect, and soon my eyes were filled with unshed tears at the overwhelming pain the motion caused.

“Aah! God…Bert…please…” I groaned, now begging for me to stop the pain. It wasn’t supposed to feel this painful, or else all those pornos were nothing but fakes.

“It gets better,” he huffed, pulling my head back by the hair, colliding our lips together as he pushed back in, swallowing my small cry, my knuckles white from grasping the edges of the sink so hard.

I pulled away from the kiss, letting my head lay on my arms as he directed my body for his pleasure, and all I could do was hope to god I could manage to hold myself long enough for this torture to end.

But then he tightened his grip on my hips, hard enough to cause bruises, and I hissed when his fingernails dug into my flesh.

“Oh fuck! There!” I cried out in pleasure when one particular hard thrust found something inside of me that paralyzed all the pain and multiplied the burning hot coil inside me, still begging to be released.

“Shut up,” he demanded huffily, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, every time he pushed in, he hit the spot. “Fuck…you feel so good…”

“Right there! Please---“ I begged, bucking backwards towards him, moaning without a care when his thrusts had connected with that particular spot, shooting shivers up and down my body.

He must’ve grew tired of having to tell me to shut up, he simply covered my mouth his hand again, but I continued to shamelessly moan against the flesh of his hand, rambling for him to go harder and faster.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come,” he warned me, his thrusts soon become less coordinated and more frequent, his hand falling from my mouth and gripping my shoulder tightly, pushing me fully onto his cock.

“No! Don’t stop! Keep going…” I protested, not there yet and I wanted to finish before or with him. I grunted my teeth from the constant pain I felt on the front of my hips every time my body snapped into the sink, feeling as if my hipbones would break in half.

“I…don’t think I-I—can’t hold off—“ he panted heavily, his head falling onto the crook of my shoulder, his breath huffing against my over-sensitive neck.

“Oh fuck—“

Then he reached around my hip, curling a hand around my straining length and pumped me time with his hard thrusts, and I howled with pleasure. Surely everybody knew what we were doing outside by now. I prayed everybody was too wasted to really care.

Soon he erupted inside me, my own release dripping over his hand and onto the cold tile. We stayed there for a few moments, his entire weight on my back as he panted heavily, catching his breath. I winced when he pulled out, and I felt the substance run down my thighs, and I fell down to my knees, unable to support myself without his hands braced on my hips.

The euphoric feeling soon wore off when I felt the familiar sounds of buckling and zippers. He helped pull me back up, petting my hair and saying I was a nice fuck.

“Frank’s a lucky guy,” he said, and I felt so horrible I felt like I was going to puke again. “You like it a bit rough, eh?”

I swallowed the rising vomit, looking down.

But his hand tilted my head back up and I nearly did hurl when his lips touched mine. “Listen Mikey; don’t be afraid to come back.”

I wasn’t going to, I told myself firmly. But nor did I throw away the piece of paper he had quickly wrote his number on a piece of paper when I finally exited the bathroom after him.

**
I walked into the well-lit garage to hear Frank giggling over something. It seemed as if the guys were having a grand time as they played. I winced when I sat down on the steps, watching Frank play the guitar so well, his fingers easily finding the right chords. He spotted me and stopped, crouching down beside me.

“Hey, I’m sorry I took longer than I thought,” he said, referring to the time. How quickly time passed. It was nearly two am. He must’ve misunderstood my look of self-disgust and lack of self-respect for being upset with him for staying longer than we originally planned.

“I’m so sorry. You look miserable, want to go home?” he asked, concern etched clearly in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice still shaky and sore from all the moaning and screaming I had done not less than ten minutes ago.

All too soon I found myself hand in hand with him as we made the walk back to his house in silent. I felt so disgusted with myself; I couldn’t bear to look at him without wanting to confess what I had done. Or scared he would know just by looking at me. I must’ve sprayed myself with that stupid body spray I found in the restroom to get rid of Bert’s smell on me and the poignant smell of the sex. I still wasn't sure what I felt guilty about. Cheating on Frank or actually enjoying the sex? I felt guilty for not caring what I had done to him.

“Mikey…” came Frank’s soft voice, tugging me from my thoughts. I looked at him in question.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

No. “Yeah. Just tired, Frankie.”

“Oh, ok,” he said softly, unlocking his front door and we walked down the familiar hallway to his room. I gladly collapsed on his bed, hugging a pillow to me. He undressed silently and I scooted over to allow him room.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me to his chest.

“I’m sorry for dragging you to the party, it was a bad idea,” he apologized, “I had rather been at home with you all night than them. I guess tonight I realize how much more you mean to me than a bunch of guys who like to get high and drunk every night.”

“It’s ok,” I mumbled, wishing he was shut up, every word he said only me feel worse.

He hummed in the back of his throat. “I promise next Saturday night we’ll just stay in bed all day. My parents are gonna be out of night all next weekend.”

“That be really nice,” I said with disinterest.

“You can be as loud as you want,” he chuckled.

“Sounds like a plan,” I yawned, tu rning fully into the pillow. “Goodnight.”

“Night Mikey,” he said.

I didn't sleep one wink that night.

**
AN: Next chapter: Gerard! YaY. Older, protective brother. It's sweet. Some Bert/Mikey. Oh no. =/ It's all good.