Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > So Sick
AN: This is the long awaited chapter. Basically, by the end of this chapter, you'll know why I named it this title. Plenty of angst. Semi-non-con.
**
Bert seemed to think he fucking owned me or something. Whenever the opportunity arose, he’d call me up, telling me he was going to pick me up. I really had no objections, because getting high was pretty much all I lived for. But I wished Bert wouldn’t call the house phone so much, because Gerard was getting suspicious. More suspicious about where I was going all the time.
I should’ve known you can’t fool an ex-drug addict. Gerard went through a bad stage of becoming heavily addicted to his Ambien pills, but ecstasy had a different effect than sleeping pills.
But still, I’m not sure what tipped him off.
I had just hung up the phone when Gerard appeared beside me, a look on his face that I knew all too well.
“So, I couldn’t help but overhear, you’re going somewhere?” he asked, looking at me curiously, “I thought today we could hang out together. Go to the mall or something. It seems nowadays I never see you. You’re always gone on the weekends.”
Good one, Gerard, use the fucking guilt trip. A few months ago, I would’ve gladly jumped up in down in excitement for a chance to hang out with my older brother. But he no longer had that control over me; I wouldn’t let him get me over like that.
“I really can’t,” I lied; it came so much easier nowadays. “I promised a friend I help him with a project.”
“Oh, which one? Frank? Ray?” he questioned, raising a brow.
What the fuck was this, 20/20?
“Just some guy from my history class,” I mumbled, wishing he would leave me the fuck alone. I normally would’ve, but I’ve never once raised my voice to him, he knew that. He was testing me.
Fuck, I loved him so much to see the disappointment in his eyes. It would kill me.
“Just a friend,” I answered nonchalantly, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket. Bert always called my cell when he arrived.
“Okay Mikey, alright,” Gerard sighed, allowing me room to sit up and get my jacket off the rack, watching me with intensity. I felt my hands shake as I zipped up my jacket. I was so pathetic.
Please, Gerard, can’t you see how fucked up I am, right now? Please save me, fuck, can’t you tell what the fuck I’m doing to myself? You’re supposed to know me better than everybody else.
I felt myself stiffened when I felt Gerard reach over and straightened out my jacket, and I blushed, reminded of the days where Gerard would always dress me when we’re little. He always made sure I had on my gloves and jacket, telling me Mom would kill him if I walked out without my winter garb. Gerard wordlessly handed me my gloves, and I was painfully aware of his proximity as he leaned over and tucked in the loose hair behind my ear.
“Just be careful, Mikey,” he said softly and for a millimeter second, I thought he was going to close in the gap between us and kiss me.
I was too confused to know what he was really trying to say. He wasn’t stopping me, but he definitely knew something was up.
Yet he wasn’t stopping me.
**
Bert took me to the lake. It was sort of romantic, but Bert was the most un-romantic person I knew, so I knew that would never be his intention.
Part of me wondered if he was going to murder me and throw my dead body in the lake or something. I wasn’t sure if my thoughts were inaccurate.
Besides, I think Bert just wanted to be risqué for once. He quickly directed me into the back seat, hungrily crushing our lips together. It was sloppy and dirty, and I immediately felt myself grow hard, feeling his tongue slip in and out of my mouth, his teeth nipping my lips, his hands unzipping my jacket, I just continued to kiss him, my hands buried in his black hair, closing my eyes and shuddering.
“Mikey, you’re such a whore,” he murmured against my lips, pulling away, his eyes glowed with delight.
I purposely rubbed up against him, wanting him to know how hard I was already. “Your whore.”
His eyes lit up, and his hand tugged painfully at my arm, pulling me closer, forcing our eyes to meet. “Promise me, Mikey? You’re my whore and I can do whatever I want with you.”
The thought of ownership, of someone having power of me in such a way was so overwhelming I couldn’t help but nod eagerly.
“Yes, yes, please. Fuck me,” I begged, tugging at his belt buckle, but he batted my hands away, grasping my chin in his hand, staring hard into my eyes.
“Patience,” he whispered to me, releasing his hold on me, leaning down to undo his fly, directing me on my back. "I want to hear you say it, Mikey. Look at me."
I stared into his eyes and whispered. "I'm your whore and you can do whatever you want with me."
He hovered over me, his hands gliding over my clothed body, tugging at my jeans, rolling them down along with my underwear and I bucked up against him when his hand met my bare cock, mewling.
He chuckled at me, watching me as I moaned with abandonment, his pace alternating from fast to slow, slow to fast. Oh fuck.
“Can I fuck you?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “I think you can take it dry, Mikey.”
My eyes widened in shock, terror overcoming me. “What? Bert--no—“
He cut off my sentence with his lips, opening my legs wider and I complied, lying compliant underneath him as he covered my screams with his mouth as he pushed his way into me, unprepared. I let out shuddering breaths against our lips, feeling as if I was going to die. It fucking hurt and I knew he had torn something, feeling the blood ooze out of me. But Bert continued to pump my softening cock, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace.
I just turned my head to the side, biting my lip with such thrust inside me, thinking of some place else where no pain existed. I couldn’t help but be turned on by his grunts and moans, and I gasped when his cock nudged my prostate dead-on, my stomach fluttering.
“Oh…fuck, Bert, yess…right there,” I moaned out, looking up at him, my arms reaching up to grip his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin to make half-crescent marks, directing him to angle upwards, and he did, and I moaned in pleasure as he repeatedly hit the spot inside me that made me completely forget about the pain.
“Ah, fuck, Mikey, you’re such a whore,” Bert muttered against my lips, his sentence turning me on more than it should, his pace increasing, his breathing quickening in short pants, he moaned, “/You’remyfuckingwhoreMikey/…”
He pumped my length until I reached my climax, sobbing out to him, my essence spilling over his hand and he gripped both my hips, drilling into me now, and I just relaxed, closing my eyes and hoping he would finish soon.
“Oh fuck, Mikey,” he moaned out, clenching his eyes tightly, “I’m gonna come.”
I encircled my arms around his neck, whispering breathlessly in his ear, “Come inside, please.”
With a groan, he did, filling me completely and pulled out, collapsing beside me, breathing heavily against the back of my neck, his hand still on my hip, rubbing my reddening skin from his nails digging in too deep. I knew I was going to have bruises and had to made sure Frank never saw them, but I decided not to think about that right now.
Just think about how much more amazing sex with Bert was. He knew all the right things to do to turn me on. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe I had this side to me all along.
Bert pushed me away from him, pulling up his jeans and buckling himself. I rolled my pants back up, still sore. He looked at me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear; I looked at him in surprise.
“Come over?” he asked, smiling, curling his hand around my neck and pushing my mouth to meet his, pushing me away a second later.
“Ok.”
**
I was surprised to find Jepha sitting idly in Bert’s living room, playing the bass. He smiled when we walked in, Bert tugged me closer, grasping my hand and directed me to sit across from his friend. I had only met Jepha once, when he came over to collect more drugs from Bert. He had said to hi to me and left, Bert told me Jepha had been his every first customer.
It seemed a bit bizarre to me that Jepha had a key to Bert’s place, but I shook those thoughts away.
“So Mikey, do you play any instruments?” Jepha asked me, putting down his instrument.
I blushed. “No. I’m not really good at anything.”
“Oh, he’s being modest,” Bert said beside me, reaching for my wrist, squeezing. “He’s a good fuck, aren’t you, Mikey?”
I sputtered at him, recoiling from him but he had a firm grip, his eyes glowered at me. Jepha let out a little laugh, and I could feel his gaze on me.
“Mikey, why are you being so distant? Don’t mind Jepha, just pretend he doesn’t exist,” Bert murmured to me, leaning over to kiss me violently, laughing as I struggled, pushing him away.
Bert turned to his friend. “He’s not normally like this. He begged me to fuck him earlier, didn’t you, Mikey? Called himself a whore.”
Jepha howled with laughter, darting his eyes between Bert and I in excitement.
“Yeah, you’re a kinky bitch, aren’t you?” Jepha sneered at me, standing up beside Bert. I could feel my heart in my chest, threatening to burst open. Fuck.
Bert looked up at his friend, smiling, turning to me with a lewd expression. “He’s a right slut. I bet you love to have us both, huh?”
I gawked at him. “What? No!”
He glared me, “Really? How disappointing. I always wanted to try. I bet you look so pretty being fucked from both ends.”
I felt the bile rise in my throat, struggling to sit up but now Bert had a firm grip on both my hands, forcing me back down.
“Bert, please!”
Bert blew hot air into my face, crawling on top of me, pushing me underneath him, holding my arms in his palms. He grinded against my hip, letting me know he was hard.
“Mikey, don’t be scared. I promise it will be pleasurable,” he whispered to me, turning his gaze to Jepha. “Go get the handcuffs; I have a feeling he’s not going to make this easy.”
I watched in fear as Jepha did as he was told, and Bert forced me up, pulling me to the confines of his bedroom, ordering me to strip.
“Slowly,” he said, licking his lips.
By the time I had taken off my boxers, Jepha walked in the room with the handcuffs, Bert pushed me down on the bed, ordering me to lie down. I felt ashamed and my face was red. But I did so, lying on my stomach.
“Oh, no,” Bert said to me, his voice smooth. “I want to see your face when I do this. I want to see how much you fucking hate this. No hiding, Mikey.”
I think this time I was crying, feeling hot tears cascade down my face as I faced them both. Feeling Jepha take my hands and handcuff me to the bed post like Bert had done so many times. Bert smiled at me, petting my face, telling me how pretty I looked in this, and how I was made for this. I turned my face to the side, shuddering.
“Don’t cry, it only makes me harder,” Bert said to me, wiping the wetness off my cheeks, tugging his clothes off, forcing my legs open with his knee. I let out labored breaths, closing my eyes.
“Oh baby, I promise I’ll make it good for you,” he continued to tell me, reaching down to caress my hair, my cheek, my lips, running his fingertips gently down my torso. “As long as you cooperate, we can all benefit from this.”
“Ok,” I breathed, blinking my eyes open, watching Jepha taking off his clothes, revealing his multiple tattoos adorning his body.
I let out a shaky breath as Bert, without warning or preparing, shoved inside me, just like he did earlier, so it didn’t hurt so much this time around. He wound my legs around his waist, thrusting into me, leaning down and whispering obscene things into my ear.
“You like it when I fuck you, Mikey? I’m so good to you, aren’t I? I give you all the drugs you want and fuck you raw. And you love it, don’t you?” he rasped to me, moving faster inside me, and I let out a moan when he hit my spot.
“I—oh fuck, please, right there,” I whispered to him, clenching my eyes shut.
“Fuck his mouth,” Bert barked to Jepha, drilling into me faster, purposely hitting that spot inside me, and I moaned. Moaned. “He wants it, don’t you?”
He jabbed into to me hard, and I let out a squeak, “Yes.”
Bert swore, smiling. “Fuck his mouth, Jepha. He’s so good at it.”
Jepha leaned over me, his cock in his hand and I looked up. He reached down with his other hand, lifting my neck up and guiding my mouth to his cock, and I let him, opening my mouth wider, engulfing the head, sucking him, paying special attention to the slit. Bert thrusted into me harder and I moaned around him.
Jepha swore, both his hands buried in my hair, assisting in keeping my head up, and I was glad, because it was straining to keep my head up to suck him off.
Soon both men’s moans floated around me, and I closed my eyes, concentrating on making Jepha come as fast as possible, remembering al the techniques that would work on Frank and Bert. Jepha gasped, thrusting his hips more into my face, forcing me to take more. Bert continued to move inside me, calling me names.
“Fuck Mikey, I wish you could see this. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said to me, pounding into me, the headboard hit the wall with each thrust. I was in complete ecstasy, letting Jepha fall from my mouth, sobbing out for release.
“Fuck! Oh please, fuckrighthere!”
I was too lost in the pleasure to notice the door opening, and apparently so was Bert. I knew something was up when I felt Jepha move around me, swearing.
“Mikey?” came a soft, scared voice form the doorway and I let out a curse, instantly knowing who it was. Oh fuck. Bert smiled evilly down at me, continuing to fuck me so perfectly, I bucked my hips up, silently begging for more.
“Fuck Frankie,” he said loudly, continuing to fuck me as my boyfriend stood motionless in the doorway, a pained, heartbroken look on his face. I closed my eyes, wishing I could fucking die. “He’s so tight, Frankie. But I’m sure you know that. Do you hear him moaning for me? He’s such a fucking slut and he loves it. Loves it when I fuck him.”
He pushed into me hard, hitting my spot dead-on and I let out a wail, sobbing, “Bert.”
I heard Frank leave, watching over Bert’s shoulder as he fled, and Quinn called after him. I sobbed, in pleasure or in emotional pain, I wasn’t sure which. Maybe it was a bit of both.
For the second time that night, Bert came inside me, muffling my cries of climax with his mouth in a choppy, uncoordinated kiss.
“I hate you, I hate you,” I told him, crying. “I fucking hate you.”
“I hope so,” he whispered to me, looking smug. “You dirty, filthy slut. You finally got what you deserved.”
**
I was unsuccessful in getting ahold of Frank. Called his home phone, and his mother told me he was out with Quinn. Dammit.
Called his cell. He had turned it off. I was so scared. I wish I knew where he was, I had no clue where he was at or how he was dealing with this betrayal. Did he hate me? I hope so. I deserved it.
I did the only thing I could think of, the only rational part. I wanted to hurl myself off the bridge. I wanted to, I had to—but I wanted to be saved. I was too much of a fucking coward to make the plunge.
I called my brother.
He must’ve been sleeping because he answered the phone with a groggy, “Hello?”
I was hysterical. Sobbing and practically screaming into the phone.
“Gerard! I—I fucking need you. I’m so fucked up right now, I…Frankie’s…he knows…and Bert and Jepha…they…” I broke off into sobs, heaving.
He cut me off, his voice firm and hard, “Mikey, where the fuck are you? Calm down, I can't understand a word you're saying. Where are you?"
I wiped my tears away, glancing at my surroundings. I was outside. I had fled Bert’s house without even looking where I was going. I knew I was a good two blocks away from his house. Thank God. I noticed a street sign.
“I’m on Westchester Street, across from house number 5218,” I blurted out to him, my breathing irregular, the familiar stitch in my chest. Oh fuck. “Gerard, please. Hurry. I…bring my inhaler. I…forgot it.”
I hung up.
**
When my brother finally arrived, I was a total mess. I’m sure I reeked of sex. And come. I’m sure he could instantly tell what I had been doing. He said no judgmental words, he grasped me gently by the shoulders, helping me stand up and I cried out in relief, wrapping my arms around him, soaking his shirt with my tears. My savior, my big brother, he was here. I was fucking saved.
“Shh, baby, it’s ok, shh,” he whispered into my ear, holding me tightly, petting my dishelmed hair. “It’s ok, Michael. Calm down.”
He pulled away, taking out my inhaler and helping me breathe, petting my hair and whispering comforting words and he worked the contraption for me, because my hands were too shaky to do it myself.
After that, he directed me to the passenger seat, buckling me up as if I were a child again, petting my face, kissing my cheek. His eyes looked sad, but he still didn’t question me. He got into the driver’s seat and started the car, pulling out and onto the familiar streets of New Jersey.
Once we were home, he opened the door and pulled me out, letting me lean on him, taking me down stairs to the basement where his room was. I gratefully collapsed on his bed, breathing his familiar scent on the sheets. I stiffened in fear when I felt his hands tugging the button of my jeans, and he whispered,
“It’s ok, Michael, I gotta get you out of these jeans,” he told me, and I nodded, numbly letting him roll down my jeans, past my knees and off my legs, letting him move me under the covers, tugging off my shirt and throwing it to the side.
I shivered, my entire body shaking. I wasn’t sure why. But I couldn’t stop. Gerard undressed himself quietly, down to his boxers and a t-shirt before climbing into bed with me, engulfing me into his arms, letting me shake against his frame, whispering incoherent things.
“I’m so sick, I’m so sick, Gerard, so fucking sick,” I told him, gasping and crying, “so sick. So sick.”
I sobbed out in pain. “I’m sick, Gerard! I’m fucking sick and you can’t save me. Please just let me go. Let me go! I'm not worth it...”
I continued to whisper these two words.
I was sick. Fucking sick.
“Mikey!” he shook me, telling me to open my eyes. “Baby, please. Stop saying that. You’re scaring me.”
I bite my tongue. “Why? It’s the truth.”
“Oh baby,” he said sadly, petting my cheek and I flinched. “You’re not sick. You’re not. You’re my beautiful baby brother.”
**
AN: You know, I suck at writing emotional scenes. I hate OVERLY emotional scenes, but then I feel like there isn't ENOUGH emotion. =/ I just like to write sex. lmao. nervous thoughts? Man. I really wanna hear you guys have to say about this one.
xoxoxo
**
Bert seemed to think he fucking owned me or something. Whenever the opportunity arose, he’d call me up, telling me he was going to pick me up. I really had no objections, because getting high was pretty much all I lived for. But I wished Bert wouldn’t call the house phone so much, because Gerard was getting suspicious. More suspicious about where I was going all the time.
I should’ve known you can’t fool an ex-drug addict. Gerard went through a bad stage of becoming heavily addicted to his Ambien pills, but ecstasy had a different effect than sleeping pills.
But still, I’m not sure what tipped him off.
I had just hung up the phone when Gerard appeared beside me, a look on his face that I knew all too well.
“So, I couldn’t help but overhear, you’re going somewhere?” he asked, looking at me curiously, “I thought today we could hang out together. Go to the mall or something. It seems nowadays I never see you. You’re always gone on the weekends.”
Good one, Gerard, use the fucking guilt trip. A few months ago, I would’ve gladly jumped up in down in excitement for a chance to hang out with my older brother. But he no longer had that control over me; I wouldn’t let him get me over like that.
“I really can’t,” I lied; it came so much easier nowadays. “I promised a friend I help him with a project.”
“Oh, which one? Frank? Ray?” he questioned, raising a brow.
What the fuck was this, 20/20?
“Just some guy from my history class,” I mumbled, wishing he would leave me the fuck alone. I normally would’ve, but I’ve never once raised my voice to him, he knew that. He was testing me.
Fuck, I loved him so much to see the disappointment in his eyes. It would kill me.
“Just a friend,” I answered nonchalantly, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket. Bert always called my cell when he arrived.
“Okay Mikey, alright,” Gerard sighed, allowing me room to sit up and get my jacket off the rack, watching me with intensity. I felt my hands shake as I zipped up my jacket. I was so pathetic.
Please, Gerard, can’t you see how fucked up I am, right now? Please save me, fuck, can’t you tell what the fuck I’m doing to myself? You’re supposed to know me better than everybody else.
I felt myself stiffened when I felt Gerard reach over and straightened out my jacket, and I blushed, reminded of the days where Gerard would always dress me when we’re little. He always made sure I had on my gloves and jacket, telling me Mom would kill him if I walked out without my winter garb. Gerard wordlessly handed me my gloves, and I was painfully aware of his proximity as he leaned over and tucked in the loose hair behind my ear.
“Just be careful, Mikey,” he said softly and for a millimeter second, I thought he was going to close in the gap between us and kiss me.
I was too confused to know what he was really trying to say. He wasn’t stopping me, but he definitely knew something was up.
Yet he wasn’t stopping me.
**
Bert took me to the lake. It was sort of romantic, but Bert was the most un-romantic person I knew, so I knew that would never be his intention.
Part of me wondered if he was going to murder me and throw my dead body in the lake or something. I wasn’t sure if my thoughts were inaccurate.
Besides, I think Bert just wanted to be risqué for once. He quickly directed me into the back seat, hungrily crushing our lips together. It was sloppy and dirty, and I immediately felt myself grow hard, feeling his tongue slip in and out of my mouth, his teeth nipping my lips, his hands unzipping my jacket, I just continued to kiss him, my hands buried in his black hair, closing my eyes and shuddering.
“Mikey, you’re such a whore,” he murmured against my lips, pulling away, his eyes glowed with delight.
I purposely rubbed up against him, wanting him to know how hard I was already. “Your whore.”
His eyes lit up, and his hand tugged painfully at my arm, pulling me closer, forcing our eyes to meet. “Promise me, Mikey? You’re my whore and I can do whatever I want with you.”
The thought of ownership, of someone having power of me in such a way was so overwhelming I couldn’t help but nod eagerly.
“Yes, yes, please. Fuck me,” I begged, tugging at his belt buckle, but he batted my hands away, grasping my chin in his hand, staring hard into my eyes.
“Patience,” he whispered to me, releasing his hold on me, leaning down to undo his fly, directing me on my back. "I want to hear you say it, Mikey. Look at me."
I stared into his eyes and whispered. "I'm your whore and you can do whatever you want with me."
He hovered over me, his hands gliding over my clothed body, tugging at my jeans, rolling them down along with my underwear and I bucked up against him when his hand met my bare cock, mewling.
He chuckled at me, watching me as I moaned with abandonment, his pace alternating from fast to slow, slow to fast. Oh fuck.
“Can I fuck you?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “I think you can take it dry, Mikey.”
My eyes widened in shock, terror overcoming me. “What? Bert--no—“
He cut off my sentence with his lips, opening my legs wider and I complied, lying compliant underneath him as he covered my screams with his mouth as he pushed his way into me, unprepared. I let out shuddering breaths against our lips, feeling as if I was going to die. It fucking hurt and I knew he had torn something, feeling the blood ooze out of me. But Bert continued to pump my softening cock, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace.
I just turned my head to the side, biting my lip with such thrust inside me, thinking of some place else where no pain existed. I couldn’t help but be turned on by his grunts and moans, and I gasped when his cock nudged my prostate dead-on, my stomach fluttering.
“Oh…fuck, Bert, yess…right there,” I moaned out, looking up at him, my arms reaching up to grip his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin to make half-crescent marks, directing him to angle upwards, and he did, and I moaned in pleasure as he repeatedly hit the spot inside me that made me completely forget about the pain.
“Ah, fuck, Mikey, you’re such a whore,” Bert muttered against my lips, his sentence turning me on more than it should, his pace increasing, his breathing quickening in short pants, he moaned, “/You’remyfuckingwhoreMikey/…”
He pumped my length until I reached my climax, sobbing out to him, my essence spilling over his hand and he gripped both my hips, drilling into me now, and I just relaxed, closing my eyes and hoping he would finish soon.
“Oh fuck, Mikey,” he moaned out, clenching his eyes tightly, “I’m gonna come.”
I encircled my arms around his neck, whispering breathlessly in his ear, “Come inside, please.”
With a groan, he did, filling me completely and pulled out, collapsing beside me, breathing heavily against the back of my neck, his hand still on my hip, rubbing my reddening skin from his nails digging in too deep. I knew I was going to have bruises and had to made sure Frank never saw them, but I decided not to think about that right now.
Just think about how much more amazing sex with Bert was. He knew all the right things to do to turn me on. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe I had this side to me all along.
Bert pushed me away from him, pulling up his jeans and buckling himself. I rolled my pants back up, still sore. He looked at me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear; I looked at him in surprise.
“Come over?” he asked, smiling, curling his hand around my neck and pushing my mouth to meet his, pushing me away a second later.
“Ok.”
**
I was surprised to find Jepha sitting idly in Bert’s living room, playing the bass. He smiled when we walked in, Bert tugged me closer, grasping my hand and directed me to sit across from his friend. I had only met Jepha once, when he came over to collect more drugs from Bert. He had said to hi to me and left, Bert told me Jepha had been his every first customer.
It seemed a bit bizarre to me that Jepha had a key to Bert’s place, but I shook those thoughts away.
“So Mikey, do you play any instruments?” Jepha asked me, putting down his instrument.
I blushed. “No. I’m not really good at anything.”
“Oh, he’s being modest,” Bert said beside me, reaching for my wrist, squeezing. “He’s a good fuck, aren’t you, Mikey?”
I sputtered at him, recoiling from him but he had a firm grip, his eyes glowered at me. Jepha let out a little laugh, and I could feel his gaze on me.
“Mikey, why are you being so distant? Don’t mind Jepha, just pretend he doesn’t exist,” Bert murmured to me, leaning over to kiss me violently, laughing as I struggled, pushing him away.
Bert turned to his friend. “He’s not normally like this. He begged me to fuck him earlier, didn’t you, Mikey? Called himself a whore.”
Jepha howled with laughter, darting his eyes between Bert and I in excitement.
“Yeah, you’re a kinky bitch, aren’t you?” Jepha sneered at me, standing up beside Bert. I could feel my heart in my chest, threatening to burst open. Fuck.
Bert looked up at his friend, smiling, turning to me with a lewd expression. “He’s a right slut. I bet you love to have us both, huh?”
I gawked at him. “What? No!”
He glared me, “Really? How disappointing. I always wanted to try. I bet you look so pretty being fucked from both ends.”
I felt the bile rise in my throat, struggling to sit up but now Bert had a firm grip on both my hands, forcing me back down.
“Bert, please!”
Bert blew hot air into my face, crawling on top of me, pushing me underneath him, holding my arms in his palms. He grinded against my hip, letting me know he was hard.
“Mikey, don’t be scared. I promise it will be pleasurable,” he whispered to me, turning his gaze to Jepha. “Go get the handcuffs; I have a feeling he’s not going to make this easy.”
I watched in fear as Jepha did as he was told, and Bert forced me up, pulling me to the confines of his bedroom, ordering me to strip.
“Slowly,” he said, licking his lips.
By the time I had taken off my boxers, Jepha walked in the room with the handcuffs, Bert pushed me down on the bed, ordering me to lie down. I felt ashamed and my face was red. But I did so, lying on my stomach.
“Oh, no,” Bert said to me, his voice smooth. “I want to see your face when I do this. I want to see how much you fucking hate this. No hiding, Mikey.”
I think this time I was crying, feeling hot tears cascade down my face as I faced them both. Feeling Jepha take my hands and handcuff me to the bed post like Bert had done so many times. Bert smiled at me, petting my face, telling me how pretty I looked in this, and how I was made for this. I turned my face to the side, shuddering.
“Don’t cry, it only makes me harder,” Bert said to me, wiping the wetness off my cheeks, tugging his clothes off, forcing my legs open with his knee. I let out labored breaths, closing my eyes.
“Oh baby, I promise I’ll make it good for you,” he continued to tell me, reaching down to caress my hair, my cheek, my lips, running his fingertips gently down my torso. “As long as you cooperate, we can all benefit from this.”
“Ok,” I breathed, blinking my eyes open, watching Jepha taking off his clothes, revealing his multiple tattoos adorning his body.
I let out a shaky breath as Bert, without warning or preparing, shoved inside me, just like he did earlier, so it didn’t hurt so much this time around. He wound my legs around his waist, thrusting into me, leaning down and whispering obscene things into my ear.
“You like it when I fuck you, Mikey? I’m so good to you, aren’t I? I give you all the drugs you want and fuck you raw. And you love it, don’t you?” he rasped to me, moving faster inside me, and I let out a moan when he hit my spot.
“I—oh fuck, please, right there,” I whispered to him, clenching my eyes shut.
“Fuck his mouth,” Bert barked to Jepha, drilling into me faster, purposely hitting that spot inside me, and I moaned. Moaned. “He wants it, don’t you?”
He jabbed into to me hard, and I let out a squeak, “Yes.”
Bert swore, smiling. “Fuck his mouth, Jepha. He’s so good at it.”
Jepha leaned over me, his cock in his hand and I looked up. He reached down with his other hand, lifting my neck up and guiding my mouth to his cock, and I let him, opening my mouth wider, engulfing the head, sucking him, paying special attention to the slit. Bert thrusted into me harder and I moaned around him.
Jepha swore, both his hands buried in my hair, assisting in keeping my head up, and I was glad, because it was straining to keep my head up to suck him off.
Soon both men’s moans floated around me, and I closed my eyes, concentrating on making Jepha come as fast as possible, remembering al the techniques that would work on Frank and Bert. Jepha gasped, thrusting his hips more into my face, forcing me to take more. Bert continued to move inside me, calling me names.
“Fuck Mikey, I wish you could see this. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said to me, pounding into me, the headboard hit the wall with each thrust. I was in complete ecstasy, letting Jepha fall from my mouth, sobbing out for release.
“Fuck! Oh please, fuckrighthere!”
I was too lost in the pleasure to notice the door opening, and apparently so was Bert. I knew something was up when I felt Jepha move around me, swearing.
“Mikey?” came a soft, scared voice form the doorway and I let out a curse, instantly knowing who it was. Oh fuck. Bert smiled evilly down at me, continuing to fuck me so perfectly, I bucked my hips up, silently begging for more.
“Fuck Frankie,” he said loudly, continuing to fuck me as my boyfriend stood motionless in the doorway, a pained, heartbroken look on his face. I closed my eyes, wishing I could fucking die. “He’s so tight, Frankie. But I’m sure you know that. Do you hear him moaning for me? He’s such a fucking slut and he loves it. Loves it when I fuck him.”
He pushed into me hard, hitting my spot dead-on and I let out a wail, sobbing, “Bert.”
I heard Frank leave, watching over Bert’s shoulder as he fled, and Quinn called after him. I sobbed, in pleasure or in emotional pain, I wasn’t sure which. Maybe it was a bit of both.
For the second time that night, Bert came inside me, muffling my cries of climax with his mouth in a choppy, uncoordinated kiss.
“I hate you, I hate you,” I told him, crying. “I fucking hate you.”
“I hope so,” he whispered to me, looking smug. “You dirty, filthy slut. You finally got what you deserved.”
**
I was unsuccessful in getting ahold of Frank. Called his home phone, and his mother told me he was out with Quinn. Dammit.
Called his cell. He had turned it off. I was so scared. I wish I knew where he was, I had no clue where he was at or how he was dealing with this betrayal. Did he hate me? I hope so. I deserved it.
I did the only thing I could think of, the only rational part. I wanted to hurl myself off the bridge. I wanted to, I had to—but I wanted to be saved. I was too much of a fucking coward to make the plunge.
I called my brother.
He must’ve been sleeping because he answered the phone with a groggy, “Hello?”
I was hysterical. Sobbing and practically screaming into the phone.
“Gerard! I—I fucking need you. I’m so fucked up right now, I…Frankie’s…he knows…and Bert and Jepha…they…” I broke off into sobs, heaving.
He cut me off, his voice firm and hard, “Mikey, where the fuck are you? Calm down, I can't understand a word you're saying. Where are you?"
I wiped my tears away, glancing at my surroundings. I was outside. I had fled Bert’s house without even looking where I was going. I knew I was a good two blocks away from his house. Thank God. I noticed a street sign.
“I’m on Westchester Street, across from house number 5218,” I blurted out to him, my breathing irregular, the familiar stitch in my chest. Oh fuck. “Gerard, please. Hurry. I…bring my inhaler. I…forgot it.”
I hung up.
**
When my brother finally arrived, I was a total mess. I’m sure I reeked of sex. And come. I’m sure he could instantly tell what I had been doing. He said no judgmental words, he grasped me gently by the shoulders, helping me stand up and I cried out in relief, wrapping my arms around him, soaking his shirt with my tears. My savior, my big brother, he was here. I was fucking saved.
“Shh, baby, it’s ok, shh,” he whispered into my ear, holding me tightly, petting my dishelmed hair. “It’s ok, Michael. Calm down.”
He pulled away, taking out my inhaler and helping me breathe, petting my hair and whispering comforting words and he worked the contraption for me, because my hands were too shaky to do it myself.
After that, he directed me to the passenger seat, buckling me up as if I were a child again, petting my face, kissing my cheek. His eyes looked sad, but he still didn’t question me. He got into the driver’s seat and started the car, pulling out and onto the familiar streets of New Jersey.
Once we were home, he opened the door and pulled me out, letting me lean on him, taking me down stairs to the basement where his room was. I gratefully collapsed on his bed, breathing his familiar scent on the sheets. I stiffened in fear when I felt his hands tugging the button of my jeans, and he whispered,
“It’s ok, Michael, I gotta get you out of these jeans,” he told me, and I nodded, numbly letting him roll down my jeans, past my knees and off my legs, letting him move me under the covers, tugging off my shirt and throwing it to the side.
I shivered, my entire body shaking. I wasn’t sure why. But I couldn’t stop. Gerard undressed himself quietly, down to his boxers and a t-shirt before climbing into bed with me, engulfing me into his arms, letting me shake against his frame, whispering incoherent things.
“I’m so sick, I’m so sick, Gerard, so fucking sick,” I told him, gasping and crying, “so sick. So sick.”
I sobbed out in pain. “I’m sick, Gerard! I’m fucking sick and you can’t save me. Please just let me go. Let me go! I'm not worth it...”
I continued to whisper these two words.
I was sick. Fucking sick.
“Mikey!” he shook me, telling me to open my eyes. “Baby, please. Stop saying that. You’re scaring me.”
I bite my tongue. “Why? It’s the truth.”
“Oh baby,” he said sadly, petting my cheek and I flinched. “You’re not sick. You’re not. You’re my beautiful baby brother.”
**
AN: You know, I suck at writing emotional scenes. I hate OVERLY emotional scenes, but then I feel like there isn't ENOUGH emotion. =/ I just like to write sex. lmao. nervous thoughts? Man. I really wanna hear you guys have to say about this one.
xoxoxo
Sign up to rate and review this story