Work Text:
“Amazing performance tonight, Gerard.”
“I’m sorry?” The words were abruptly dragged away from the roar of the glowing city they were spoken towards as Gerard turned his head, eyebrows already knitting together in confusion at the comment before he could find out who it belonged to. He felt an initial wave of shock spread across his chest at the sound of his name, the two syllables being able to slide so comfortably out the mouth of an unknown person feeling alien to him. Maybe they had actually bothered to read the playbill offered at the auditorium doors, the ones that most people picked up just to have a souvenir to take home, the ones that almost always ended up decorating the aisles, rows, and trash bins by the end of the night.
With his head turned, Gerard was able to see who had spoken to him. Before him was a short man with a camera hanging around his neck, a playbill in his tattooed hands, and a crisp, tailored suit hugging his frame. He turned his body to be angled towards the man slightly, the crash bar of the open door he was leaning on creaking under him as he moved, and offered a soft smile.
“Oh, thank you so much,” he said, “sorry, I'm not used to people knowing my name.” He traded his weight between his feet as he felt the air around him grow tense, encircling him from head to toe and leaving his limbs cold and damp. Normally, Gerard held himself up with confidence and grace when he was approached by audience members after his shows, carrying with him the attitude he flaunted under the shine and heat of the stage lights. Before he could open his mouth to explain that to the man and most likely make himself out to be even more of a fool, his plan was interrupted.
“Don't worry about it, I understand.” The man gave a smile of his own and began to fiddle with the paper in his hands. “I just loved your performance, I knew I had to get your name and find you the moment you left the stage.” Gerard gave a quiet hum in response to the compliment, the same reaction he always gave to cover up the way he worked to shove down the warmth that would threaten to spider its way up his neck and face. He turned his gaze down past his ornate golden vest and snow white tights and put his attention briefly to his slippers, pretending that they were unbelievably interesting for a few long, awkward seconds before meeting the gaze of the man with the camera once more.
As if realizing he'd forgotten something, the man spoke again. “I’m a reviewer, a photographer; I'm here tonight on commission. The auditorium told me this was the biggest performance of the year, one with only the best dancers, the best vocalists. Triple-threats all down the bill to make sure this feat could be pulled off. They were right, but they never told me about you specifically,” Gerard could feel a pair of intense eyes slowly raking over him, “you captivated me… you seemed to hold the attention of my camera without my conscious input. I've never seen a man move with such elegance and fluidity, and I've never heard one sing with such haunting beauty. It's no wonder they put you front and center.”
Gerard stood in silence then, his jaw slack and lips parted slightly in disbelief at the man’s words. He cleared his throat and pushed his hair behind his ear while he steeped in everything he'd just been told, now suddenly falling back on himself to remember exactly how the performance had gone, searching for what possibly could have prompted a description like that. His thoughts were backed up by the sound of the man removing and reattaching the lens cover of his camera, his playbill now tucked safely and securely under one arm.
Finally, he found the words he needed. “Wow, um, thank you again. No one’s ever described me like that before. I've poured my whole heart and soul and then some into my skills, you have no idea how wonderful it feels to know I’m being seen the way I strive to be.”
He clasped his hands together at his front and glanced out towards the sparkling lights and skyscrapers that seemed to reach out all the way to Heaven, then threw a grin towards the sea of cars that churned at eye level. He'd been expecting people to be eager to congratulate the entire cast tonight, having already spoken to several audience members before he was approached by the man with the camera. Tonight’s performance was the first in the auditorium’s history that featured singing ballet dancers, and it was touted as a showcase of grace, control, and strength. He remembered making it through the auditions months before, how excited, nervous, and proud he had been after ending the acceptance call with the judges. Now, it was over, and he had pulled it off, even under the pressure of having his name showcased in bold letters at the very top of the bill, alongside two female dancers to make up what their instructor had dubbed “the magic trio”.
“How long have you been performing?” The man dropped his camera and let it hang from its neck strap again. “What made you decide this is what you wanted to do?”
Gerard shrugged, then spent a few seconds in thought before answering. “Well, I've always been drawn to the stage. My grandmother taught me how to sing and play piano when I was a kid, and she enrolled me into dance classes when I was six after I begged her for almost a year. I was also a choral singer, but in my sophomore year of high school, I found my passion for art and focused on that instead. I wanted to become a cartoonist. But, even when I was just drawing, I still did ballet. I never told anyone at school what I did, and every other day, my grandmother would pick me up and take me to lessons instead of me going home on the bus. I treated dance like a fun activity, something I would drop and use as a good conversation starter while I went through life as an artist.
“I don't know why, but one day during my senior year, something clicked, shifted. I realized that, while I still loved creating art, I wanted to be on stage more than anything. When I would stand under those lights and sing for choral concerts and dance for recitals, I felt like I was untouchable. I knew I wanted to feel like that for the rest of my life.
“After I graduated, I started attending more rigorous ballet lessons, I started going to vocal lessons to get back into singing, and I started to look into auditions so I could get on stage again. Eventually, I managed to find a place in this auditorium’s ballet program, which made dancing my job. I slowly worked my way up the ladder in terms of skill, and even though it wasn't required, I still took vocal lessons during my free time. I started getting roles in bigger and bigger performances, I was getting placed in smaller and smaller groups, my name was climbing up the bill.
“When my instructor announced that we'd be singing during a performance, I was thrilled and terrified at the same time. I knew I had the skills, but I didn't know if I could pull off something as big as this, with an audience all expecting to be treated to a once-in-a-lifetime show. I almost didn't audition. I thought that it was just a little too far from my reach. I still found myself showing up the day of auditions, though, with the idea in my head that I was just doing this to get rejected, to get put in my place, to give myself a sort of reality check. Obviously, that's not what happened.
“But, um, to condense all of that: I've been dancing for almost sixteen years, and singing for around the same amount of time, give or take a few years since I stopped for a while.” He told the floor, the tips of his ears burning as he heard each word leave his mouth.
“You're twenty-two?”
Gerard looked back up. “In three weeks, yes. Why?”
“Twenty-one… oh, nothing, I just didn't expect you to be as young as you looked.” The man looked Gerard over again, almost like he was trying to confirm the ideas he had of him. “Most of the dancers I meet tell me they're in their late twenties, some even in their thirties. I knew I was dealing with serious talent when I was making my way over to you, but I didn't know that talent would be prodigious.”
Gerard rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as the man complimented him again, feeling flustered over it all. He didn't realize he'd be met with so much praise, especially praise that wasn't exclusively aimed towards his performance, but he wasn't complaining about it. Even if it did expose the awkwardness he always tried so hard to push away from his public image, he still enjoyed what was happening. “Ah, you flatter me, sir. I wouldn't say I'm a prodigy, not by any means. I just try my best.”
The man acted almost taken aback by Gerard's dismissal. “Don't go around downplaying your own talent. You're your own worst critic, you know.”
“I know, I just-”
“Just nothing! I’d like to see you wear my words as well as you wear that costume. They're tailored the same way. Don't let your modesty become you.” Gerard swore he saw the man give him a wink. Instead of arguing, he only crossed his arms over his chest and put his attention on the floor, swallowing the words that had found themselves waiting on the tip of his tongue.
Seeming to notice Gerard’s tension, or trying to save the conversation, the man spoke again. “The contrast between your stage presence and how you’re acting now is quite surprising. It's endearing, though, if I’m to be totally honest. Does that untouchable feeling you get when you perform cover up all that timidness?”
Gerard worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, trying to shrink away from the pair of eyes that seemed to be able to read him like an open book. “I… yeah, it does,” he confirmed, “but it’s not every day that I get to be in the presence of such charm and charisma, so maybe that's affecting me as well.”
The corners of the man’s mouth twitched upwards. “And it’s not every day that I get to be in the presence of such beauty and allure, but I sure wish it was.” He reached down for his camera and adjusted the clamp he had his playbill in between his arm and rib cage. “Sorry about changing the subject so abruptly, but I can't ignore this itch any longer. Would you be a doll and let me get a photo of you while the city looks this gorgeous? The gold of your vest has been reflecting the lights this entire time, I haven't been able to tear my eyes away.”
“Oh, um-” Gerard turned around towards the lights, cars, and buildings, then towards the darkening sky, its purples and blues giving way to pure black as the minutes wore on. “Sure, just tell me what you want me to do, where you want me to go, anything.” He turned back to the man, his arms dropping so that they were limp at his sides.
Without a word, the man led Gerard out onto the sidewalk, guiding him by his shoulders to the curb and adjusting his arms and legs until he was standing how he wanted him to be. He took steps backwards until his back met the brick that made up the outer wall of the auditorium, then corrected his position so he wasn't leaning against it. Gerard watched the man remove the cover from his camera’s lens, eyeing the way it briefly swung back and forth from the cord that kept it attached to the camera. The man then crouched down, appearing not to care about his suit pants becoming dirty as he lowered one knee onto the ground for stability. After some adjustments with the lens and the settings of the camera, the man finally lifted it to his face and angled it towards Gerard, one hand raised to count down from three.
“Okay, there’ll be a flash, so if you want, you can keep your eyes closed until I hit ‘one’. When you open them, look towards me. Got it?” After receiving a thumbs up, the man smiled behind the camera and lifted three fingers on his raised hand. He counted down as each finger lowered, face scrunched in concentration as he pressed down on the shutter button for the first photo, following quickly with a second and third while Gerard’s eyes were still open and on him.
After the last flash faded and Gerard blinked the haze from his eyes, he relaxed his body and took a tentative step forward, hands meeting at his chest to wring each other. The man was still on the ground, his face buried in the little screen of his camera while he clicked through the photos he'd taken. Following each click through to the next photo, he would let out a quiet hum, then linger on it for a minute before moving on to the next.
The curiosity and nervousness clawed through Gerard's stomach while he waited for the man to look up at him or show him the photos, and he began to rock back and forth on his feet to control himself. He hoped he looked alright; he knew he probably didn't look as fresh-faced as he did at the beginning of his performance, but the man had had nothing but positive things to say about him so far, so he couldn't look too terrible. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.
“Gerard? Come take a look at these.” The man got to his feet and brushed off the pant leg that had been on the ground, then gestured towards his camera with his head, the satisfaction dancing around in his eyes. Gerard took the last few steps he needed to be right next to him, peering down at the camera screen that was being tilted towards him.
The man he saw when he looked at the screen didn't appear to be him, and yet, it was. He looked nothing short of ethereal surrounded by the sparkling lights, a rainbow of colors dotting around him and kissing his golden vest. The white of his tights and dress shirt stood out boldly against the noisiness behind him, and the contrast of his dark hair and his porcelain skin made him appear doll-like and enigmatic. Did he really look like this?
“Well?”
Gerard closed his mouth once he realized he'd let it fall open while he was staring. “I look… wow.”
The man nodded. “The epitome of elegance, radiance, poise… I could go on. Not even my camera does you your due justice.” He hooked a finger under Gerard's jaw and turned his head for him, taking in every last detail of his face before letting go, leaving Gerard with his eyes wide and his body stiff. In the time that it took the dancer to gather himself enough to be able to speak, the man reattached the cover onto his camera’s lens and began to walk back inside, gesturing for Gerard to follow.
Once inside the now near-empty concourse, Gerard looked towards the large clock that decorated the intricately sculpted wall in front of him, gasping at the time. “I am so, so sorry, but I really have to go get changed out of this.” He looked down towards his outfit. “Thank you for the wonderful conversation, and for the photos. I hope I see you again someday.”
“No need to apologize to me, I know I've kept you for far too long,” the man gave the dancer a fond smile, “it’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you.”
Gerard gave a short nod at the words. “The pleasure’s all mine. Goodnight, um…”
“Frank.”
“Right, goodnight, Frank.” With that, Gerard turned on his heel and made his way into the theatre, striding down the aisles until he reached backstage, where he pushed through the door that led to his dressing room. As expected, it was empty when he entered, the rest of the dancers probably already halfway to their houses and apartments by now. Instead of thinking too much about how late it would be when he got home, he started slipping out of the increasingly uncomfortable outfit, sighing in relief as each article was removed.
The process of getting out of his performance attire and into his comfortable street clothes didn't take but fifteen minutes, and Gerard had even spent some of that time relaxing and massaging his muscles, which had started to ache. Loosely lacing his tennis shoes and hauling his bag of ballet gear up over his shoulder, he gave himself a long look in the mirror the room had. He gave his reflection a ridiculous grin of teeth and gums, finally being hit with the sense of pride and accomplishment from tonight’s show. But, he wasn't going to waste his time being proud of himself here. That was something that could be done — and would be done — at home, in bed, in pajamas.
Gerard listened to his muted footsteps strain to echo in the empty performance hall as he ascended towards the doors, the sprawling room making a ghost of every single noise that came from inside it. While he walked, he took a brief glance over his shoulder at the stage he'd been on just a short time ago, feeling his heart flit around in his chest at the sight of it. He contained his giddiness for a second time once he reached one of the several sets of doors that opened into the concourse, pushing the crash bar with his elbow and stepping through.
The dancer jumped and put a hand over his chest. “Oh! Hello again, I didn't think you'd still be here when I left.”
“I figured it would be alright if I stuck around,” Frank looked up from the bench he was sitting on, “if you still have time to talk.”
Gerard ran a hand through his hair and twisted himself around towards the clock, lips pursed in consideration. “I don't have anything or anyone to get back to, so I suppose I do… we’re going to have to make this brief or find another place to talk, though. Auditorium closes soon.” He nodded towards the janitor who also occupied the room, eyes following the repetitive back and forth motion of their broom.
Frank made a low humming sound in understanding but made no move to stand, patting the empty space beside him and scooting towards one armrest to give Gerard room to sit. The dancer took the hint and joined Frank on the bench, keeping a small, but socially acceptable distance between them. He craned his neck to try to see the screen of the camera Frank had his attention on, just barely being able to make out the colors of his own outfit.
“I’m trying to pick out the best photos from tonight to submit to webzines and the management here,” Frank explained when he noticed Gerard trying to check out what he was doing, not taking his eyes away from the screen, “but it’s so difficult to pick out just a few. It always is, no matter who I’m photographing, but this is an entirely new level of challenging for me.”
Gerard moved his bag into his lap and wrapped his arms around it. “Do you always hide your flirting behind all this reviewer lingo?”
Frank’s eyes went wide at the blatant accusation, head shooting up and whipping to the side to face Gerard. He made quick work of composing himself, settling on giving the dancer a smirk and a shake of his head. “Not always,” he answered, turning back to his camera, “only when I want to impress, to flatter, to… well, seduce would be a poor choice of words for a man like you, so let's say… win over.”
“So you think I’m pretty, sir?”
“Among other things, yes.”
Gerard leaned in so that the janitor in the room couldn't hear him, his lips brushing over the shell of Frank’s ear when he spoke, his voice a barely audible whisper. “How am I supposed to make sure those photos you have won't be used for…” he breathed in slowly, “other things, once you get back home?”
Frank stayed almost entirely still, hands falling away from the camera and into his lap. “If you come home with me, you can make sure.” He stated, as if it was a no-brainer, glancing at Gerard from the corners of his eyes as his hands spread out across his thighs and ran down to his knees.
“Feeling brave tonight, aren't you?”
“Maybe. Is it too brazen for me to hope that such a breathtaking person would accept an offer like that from me?” Frank asked.
In response, Gerard reached down, finding one of Frank’s hands and resting his own over top of it. He then responded with, “mm, no, but now I wonder if these intentions were brewing away in that mind of yours this entire night. If they've gotten in the way of your job, that is, if you're even a reviewer at all.”
“I can assure you, I really am a reviewer. But, in tandem, I was hopelessly given to let my mind wander at the sight of you.” Frank sighed and swallowed. “Forgive me if you find me too forward, we can always end the conversation here, and I can be on my way.”
Gerard ran his thumb over the inked skin of Frank’s hand. “Don't get assumptive on me now. You haven't heard what I think of your offer.”
Frank waited with bated breath.
“You had me at 'amazing performance tonight’.”
The camera was turned off. “Perfect.” Those were the words that trailed behind Frank as he stood, lacing his fingers with Gerard’s and pulling him to his feet. Two pairs of footsteps pattered hastily over the carpeted floor, the sound of the door opening following them as they pushed out onto the street, which was now slightly less busy and loud.
The walk to Frank’s car was blanketed by a silence so thick and tense that it could be cut with a knife. Gerard kept his hands stuffed deep in the pouch-pocket of the hoodie he was wearing, his hands clasped together tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. His heart had found a steady pace to drum along at, rising into his throat and ears and managing to drown out much of the droning city around him. On the other hand, Frank appeared just as calm and collected as he had when he'd first approached him, but maybe he was just as talented in acting as he was in photography. Gerard secretly hoped that that was the case.
Gerard heard the honk of a car and a brief flash of taillights, turning to see Frank with his key fob in one hand, pointed towards an unassuming grey hatchback. He slowed his steps to loop around the car and get to the passenger side, making sure there were no cars in the lane closest to the door before stepping into the road. He listened for the turning of the locks on the doors, one hand falling onto the handle and his eyes locking onto Frank’s from the other side of the car. His entire body felt weak.
The drive to Frank’s house was mostly quiet, but halfway through, Gerard had something to ask. “How is this going to affect your review of the show?”
Frank kept his eyes on the road. “Hopefully, none. I like to pride myself on my ability to remain unpersuaded by overly friendly dancers and instructors. Of course, I've never ended up taking one home with me until now, so who knows?”
“You've never taken a dancer home? Really?”
“I'm a professional man, Gerard, this is far removed from my usual demeanor.”
The soft ticking of the turn signal filled the car as Frank merged into an exit lane.
“And what's so different now?”
A tattooed hand found its way onto Gerard's thigh, giving a firm squeeze, almost like a form of pacification. “You.”
After Frank’s answer faded away, the pair fell silent once more, Gerard staring at the hand the photographer had on his thigh and doing his best to ignore the warmth that was now radiating through his jeans. He managed to tear his eyes away when he felt the car slow significantly, finding that they had pulled into a rather luxurious apartment complex and were now crawling through the parking lot to find an empty space. When Frank found a spot, Gerard's seatbelt was unbuckled, and he leaned forward to pick his bag out of the footwell he had placed it in for the ride over.
The heat from Frank's hand lingered after he'd taken it off of Gerard's thigh to get out, and that alone was enough to make the dancer feel lightheaded. He held himself together, though, climbing out of the now parked vehicle and starting to make his way towards the building closest to him. When Frank joined the taller man at his side, he wrapped a strong arm around his waist, holding him close as he led him up the flights of stairs it took to reach his apartment. Gerard pretended not to be fazed.
The sound of Frank’s apartment door closing was joined by the thud of Gerard being pushed up against it and the muffled noise of surprise that came from the back of his throat when he was suddenly captured in a rough, almost impatient kiss. He reciprocated as fast as he could, letting his bag slip out of his hands and drop at his feet as he reached up to drape his arms around Frank’s neck, one hand weaving into the hair on the back of his head. He could feel pressure on his biceps as they were squeezed and held up firmly against the door, keeping him in place as one of Frank’s knees slotted between his legs and pushed upwards.
At the first whimper Gerard gave, Frank pulled back, his breath ghosting over the dancer’s lips and their noses brushing one another. “This is fine, yeah?” He asked, thumbs making mirrored movements over the fabric of Gerard's hoodie.
“Yeah, yeah this is good. I'll let you know if something’s not right.” Gerard assured, letting his head loll until it made contact with the door, exposing his throat and the muscles that made themselves visible. “Oh, and please don't leave any marks, they're a real bitch to cover.”
Frank nodded in acknowledgement, then took the opportunity presented before him without having to be asked, leaning down to press his lips right under Gerard’s jaw and slowly making a wet trail as he made his way to his pulse point. Gerard shivered when the cool air of the apartment caught the moisture on his skin, but the sensation was quickly placed in the background when he felt Frank’s teeth graze over his pulse, his breath hitching and his grip tightening in Frank’s hair.
When Frank pushed his knee up for a second time, Gerard moved his hips forward in an attempt to chase the friction he was craving. Instead of giving him what he wanted, Frank retraced along the same kisses he’d just left, this time continuing until he reached his ear. Biting and tugging gently at the lobe, he whispered into Gerard's ear, “You want more, angel? Say please.”
“Ah- what?”
“I didn't stutter, did I?”
Gerard paused for a second to swallow through a dry mouth. “No sir.” He sighed, feeling blood rush up from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears, turning his face a nice and obvious tint of red as he processed what he was going to have to do if he was going to get what he wanted. While he hadn't expected this in the first place, what he felt was even more surprising was the fact that he liked it.
To his detriment, Frank seemed perfectly content to wait for him to find the words he was looking for, staying right up against him to trap in the nearly dizzying warmth between them and keeping his face tucked away by Gerard's ear, waiting, listening. Gerard felt like he'd forgotten every word he'd ever been taught, and was now left with his lips parted and his chest heaving. He watched the backs of his eyelids and listened to his own breathing, trying not to flinch at the feeling of Frank’s lips exploring the skin directly under his ear.
After what felt like an eternity, Gerard finally managed a nearly inaudible, “please?”
“Speak up, I can't hear you.” Frank’s voice was almost condescending, and it made Gerard’s heart stumble.
“Please.” He repeated, this time louder.
“Good boy.” For his efforts, he was rewarded with more movement from Frank’s knee, causing him to whine and drop his hands down to Frank’s shoulders so he could have more support while he worked to find a gentle pace to rock his hips down at. The longer he stayed pinned between Frank and the door, the hotter the room felt. Combined with the friction, he could feel himself growing weak in his knees. The photographer holding him was the only reason he was able to remain upright.
Frank took notice of this and pulled his knee from between Gerard’s legs, and Gerard could almost hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, once again in a whisper. “Falling apart so soon?”
When he answered with a nod, Frank moved away from Gerard’s ear, the dancer watching him through half-lidded eyes as he took his sweet time to just stare at him.
“Look at you,” Frank murmured, “I haven't even touched you.”
Gerard squared his jaw and lifted his head off the door to lock eyes with Frank. “Do it, touch me.”
Frank raised an eyebrow, then reached up to run a curled finger down Gerard’s jawline. “Oh, you want to play like that?” He asked, pressing a thumb against his bottom lip as he appeared to become lost in thought, his eyes still trained on Gerard’s.
Just as Gerard started to shift from impatience, Frank pulled him away from the door by his arms and walked him backwards further into the apartment, letting, “alright, we can do that,” trail behind them. While Gerard mainly focused on not tripping over his own feet, he was able to get a glimpse of the place as they passed through. Everything had a refined air to it; it was all clean and thoughtfully picked to fit the preexisting neutral colors that covered the walls, but it all felt like it was well loved and lived in at the same time. Nothing was perfect, but everything looked like it belonged where it was.
After a trip through a hallway, Gerard was led through a doorway and into what he figured was Frank’s room. His legs eventually hit the bed, and he was sent onto his back, where he was then hauled upwards until his head was resting atop a nest of pillows and his body floating in a sea of blankets. Instead of climbing on top of him right away, Frank turned on a single lamp to light up the room and started to rummage through his drawers, most likely to find lube and condoms.
Gerard took the time he was given to shuck off his hoodie and the shirt underneath, the clothes creating a sauna behind their woven fabrics and leaving his skin feeling hot and damp with sweat. He let the articles drop to the floor beside him, figuring Frank wasn't going to mind all that much, especially not right now. He propped himself up on his elbows then to watch the photographer, but found that he was already staring at him through the mirror attached to his dresser. Looking down slightly, he could see the bottle of lube and unopened condom packet in one hand, the other hand being balled up in a fist on the mahogany wood of the dresser top.
“You like what you see?” Gerard asked quietly, meeting Frank’s gaze through the mirror.
Frank stayed facing the mirror. “You're something else, I hope you know that.” He answered, completely clearing past the question as he broke eye contact and turned around, tossing the contents in his hands at the empty space beside Gerard.
The action prompted Gerard to get up onto his knees and make his way down to the foot of the bed, the mattress submitting beneath his weight a little too well and making the task a bit of a struggle. When he made it, he was able to reach out and pull Frank in by his tie, bringing him crashing down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue.
Gerard's heart was beating a million miles a minute, but it did nothing to falter him as he kept Frank pulled in long past the moment he'd lost his last bit of breath. His lungs burned and cried out for him to just move away, but he refused, even longed for the pain. It wasn't until Frank grabbed him and all but threw him back into his position at the top of the bed that he finally got to breathe again. It was a momentary relief, though, because as soon as he'd started to gasp and let the air flood in, a heavy hand fell over his throat, pressing down on his windpipe and restricting him again.
His attempts to get in even the slightest bit of air through Frank’s hold were feeble and fruitless, and only hastened the pace at which he felt the lightheadedness and haze creeping into the edges of his consciousness. The sensation made his entire body feel as if it were on fire, burning all the way to the bone with need and desire. When Frank let off the pressure and the haze faded, the oxygen only fueled the flames that lapped under his skin.
Gerard reached up to pull Frank in by the back of his head for another kiss, but he was intercepted by the photographer’s free hand, which gathered both of his wrists together and pinned them up over his head, leaving him unable to touch him or try to get him to do anything.
“Frank,” he started, his voice thin and desperate, “please.”
The hand around his throat gave an experimental squeeze. “Please what, gorgeous?”
Gerard mouthed uselessly for what he wanted to say, unable to get out what he was trying to ask for. His face darkened with embarrassment when the thought that followed the short squeeze was ‘more’ .
“Please what? You won't get shit if you don't use your words.” Frank’s words passed through bared teeth.
“Choke me- fuck!” The moment the request left Gerard’s lips, Frank gave him what he wanted. His head dropped back against the pillows as his eyes rolled and his jaw fell slack, allowing for a soft moan to escape into the quiet room. Frank’s grip tightened around his wrists as well, and the pressure increased momentarily as he got himself into a more comfortable position on top of him.
Frank let go of Gerard's throat and wrists entirely, throwing him a look that read as, “stay still,” before ducking his head and starting to roam over the dancer’s exposed skin. Gerard lifted his head to watch Frank, feeling a spark of electricity race up his spine when kisses were left down his sternum, just as warm and wet as the ones on his neck had been back by the front door. He stayed put in a mesmerized silence as Frank worked his way down, letting each new rush of heat spread across his body like water.
He only made a sound when Frank reached the space right above the waistband of his jeans, his abdominal muscles contracting and his hands shooting down to grab tightly onto the photographer’s hair. When he was met with a questioning look and calloused fingers reaching for his wrists, he looked away for a second.
“Sorry,” he let go of Frank’s hair, “kinda sensitive there.”
“Hey, don't apologize. Would you like me to stop?”
Gerard smiled fondly at Frank’s concern, but shook his head. “No, it's alright. Just wanted to explain myself.”
Frank dropped his hands back down to Gerard’s waist and nodded slightly, his nose brushing over Gerard's skin. “Let me know if it gets to be too much.” He said, then lifted his head away and changed his position again to be in between the dancer's legs, pulling him closer by his thighs until the crotch of his jeans met his suit. Now satisfied with how he was sitting, he let his hands do all of the exploring. Gerard put his own hands over his face and tried to stay still while Frank’s fingers skated over his stomach and chest, touch almost feather-light. It was if he was being treated like the finest china to ever exist, able to shatter at the slightest mishandle.
When Frank reached Gerard's racing heart, he spread his fingers flat out over his skin to touch as much of it as he could. “You're acting so calm,” he pointed out, “and yet your body gives you away.” Gerard gasped when his hands were taken away from his face and put back over his head, now unable to hide himself from the gaze that seemed to be able to look through him and see every single thought he had.
“And it makes me wonder…” Frank trailed off, and before Gerard could open his mouth to ask him what he wondered, his cock was being grabbed through his jeans and his hips were snapping upwards. He gave a miserable groan when Frank pushed him back down to lie against the mattress with the same free hand he had used to grope him, dropping his head to the side and trying not to move again when the photographer started to stroke him the rest of the way to hardness through the denim. When Gerard could feel and see his jeans begin to strain and tent to the point of discomfort, he started to whimper and moan as each new rush of pleasure through him only led to more pain; it really was a double-edged sword.
Frank ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “I bet I could make you cum in your jeans.” He guessed, moving until he was hovering over Gerard and using his hold on his wrists to keep himself up. “But we can't have that, can we?”
Gerard stared up at him wordlessly.
“Can we?” Frank repeated, his voice more firm and his free hand moving to hold Gerard's jaw.
“No, we can't have that.”
“That's right.” Frank chased his words down with a kiss, this one less frantic than the one before it. Gerard melted into the feeling of Frank's lips on his, his eyelids fluttering shut and his shoulders dropping. He only opened them slightly when Frank broke the kiss, enough to see him sit up as he let go of his jaw and moved his hand back down to his waistband.
When Frank popped the button of Gerard's jeans, the dancer gave a relieved sigh and seemed to sink further into the mattress. At the same time, the zipper came down on its own from the pressure that had built up, letting go of even more of the ache. Frank wasted no time pushing the jeans down past Gerard’s hips, letting go of his wrists so he could use both hands. Briefly, he scooted himself back to be able to pull them down further, pushing Gerard's legs so that they bent at the knees so he could get them the rest of the way off.
Now in nothing but his boxers, Gerard felt awfully vulnerable, squirming under Frank’s gaze as he was being stared at. In contrast, the man sitting further down the bed was still fully clothed, skin hidden away by layer after layer. Normally, he would complain about his partner still being dressed while he was nearly naked, but something about the fact that Frank was in a suit and not street clothes sent him reeling. He was certain that if he were standing right now, he'd immediately crumble to his knees.
Finally, Frank shook his head. “You're heartstopping,” he said, “absolutely fucking stunning.” He ran his hands over Gerard’s thighs, slipping his fingertips under the fabric of his boxers for a second before moving his hands up to hold his hips, thumbs rubbing across the bones. Gerard swallowed hard and kept his eyes trained downwards, admiring the contrast between his own blank skin in comparison to Frank’s tattoos, his mind wandering at the idea of him having more under all those clothes.
“You know, I’m told I’m even prettier after I’m fucked,” Gerard stated, “but you won't get to find that out if you do nothing but stare at me.”
Frank’s eyes flickered up to Gerard’s, gaze intense and burning. “Yeah? Well, I guess you're right.” He hummed, leaning back over Gerard and picking up the lube and condom packet, putting them closer to himself. Then, he reached down with one hand to pull Gerard's boxers down in a single swift motion, tossing them haphazardly to the floor, leaving the other entirely exposed. He used his other hand to press two fingers against Gerard’s lips, instructing, “open up, sweetheart.”
Without question or hesitation, Gerard opened his mouth and let Frank slip his fingers inside, closing his lips right before he reached the bottom knuckles. He held eye contact as he took hold of Frank’s wrist and started to move his fingers in and out, coating them in saliva as he went. Even after he knew they were wet enough from how easily they slid past his lips, he kept going, only stopping when Frank pulled his hand away himself.
“Such a good boy, you're so good at that.” The photographer praised, readjusting the way he was sitting before bending Gerard's legs at the knees again and slowly letting his hand disappear between his thighs. He made sure to avoid his cock — even though it was enticingly red and throbbing — on his way down, stopping once he reached what he was looking for.
Gerard gasped when he felt Frank’s wet and cold finger circling around his hole, fighting the initial urge to close his legs. Instead of pushing in, though, Frank paused to pour a generous amount of lube on his fingers, much to Gerard’s relief. That same finger went circling again, this time pushing in, moving at a pace that almost felt stationary to get past the first ring of muscles while inflicting the least amount of pain as he could. Despite the lube and saliva soaking Frank’s fingers, Gerard still felt the sting ebb through him, which only increased as Frank pushed in further.
When he scrunched his face up and hissed in pain, Frank stopped in his tracks. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, just- just keep going.” Gerard's request was heeded, and Frank resumed his actions, gaze swapping between Gerard’s face and his hand, watching for any sign to stop.
Eventually, the pain did go away, having faded once Frank had gotten the first finger inside him and had gone still in waiting. He gave a smile and a nod, encouraging the other to move. Slowly, Frank’s finger came out, each knuckle passing by the now loosened muscles until only the tip of it remained inside Gerard. Then, he pushed it back in, speed slightly increased. He repeated this several times, getting faster as he moved on, until he made up a steady rhythm. Gerard had gradually started to moan at the feeling, discomfort being replaced by pleasure over time.
Frank waited until he had Gerard fucking himself on his finger before speaking. “You're going to tell me exactly what you want from me. If you break up the pacing of your words, you'll start your sentence all over again, no matter how far along you were. Got that?”
Gerard nodded fast. “Got it.”
“Got it… what?”
“Sir. Got it, sir.”
“There you go… and to make it that much more challenging:” Frank reached up with his free hand and wrapped it around Gerard’s throat, squeezing hard. Gerard’s head dropped back and he let out a whine, closing his eyes and letting his mouth hang open.
Frank slowed down to add in a second finger, pushing in and out of Gerard once as a sort of test run. “Go on, then.”
“I want you to — fuck! — I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name.” Gerard’s voice shook as he tried his hardest not to react to the way Frank’s fingers had started to move again. “And I want you to pin me down a-and ch- ahh… ” his eyes rolled back when Frank crooked his fingers and brushed over his prostate, “and I want you to pin me down and choke me.” He rushed out, speaking almost too quickly to be understood.
“What was that? Couldn't understand you.” Frank’s tone was nothing short of mocking, and it made Gerard cover his face with his arms again.
Gerard took the deepest breath he could around Frank’s hold before he resumed speaking, this time much slower. “I-I, oh my god, and…”
“Arms down. Let me see you.”
He put his arms down at his sides, now fisting at the sheets. “...and I want you to pin me down and choke me.” He managed, feeling as though he'd just completed some massive feat, even though it was just a few words.
Frank hummed in approval. “See, that wasn't so hard, was it? What else?” As he spoke, he added a third finger, convincing Gerard that no, he wasn't going to make it through this one.
“I want you to keep going even after I cum.” Gerard continued, words strained and weak. He could feel his cock leaking and quivering as it stood untouched, but he pushed on past that to get out his last sentence. “And I want you to be — shit, Frankie — and I want… and I want y-you to be as rough as you want with me.”
Gerard whimpered when Frank let go of his throat and removed his fingers, suddenly feeling empty. He shivered a little as the sweat that had formed in a sheen across his chest caught the air, his body still feeling like it was burning up. He moved his hands down towards his cock when he noticed Frank occupying himself with the belt of his pants, wrapping a hand around the base and biting down harshly on his bottom lip from the pleasure.
“What are you- stop that!” Frank swatted Gerard’s hand away immediately, looking directly into the dancer’s eyes as a sort of warning. Gerard chewed on the inside of his cheek then, just watching as Frank unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and shimmied his pants and boxers down just enough for his own angry cock to spring out.
“Oh fuck me.” He whispered to himself, continuing to stare as Frank ripped open the condom wrapper, took it out, and rolled it down over his cock. By the time Frank started to lube up the condom, Gerard felt like he was in a trance, eyes mindlessly following Frank’s hand as he stroked himself.
Frank chuckled a little when he put his attention back on Gerard, noticing what he was doing. “You're adorable.” He said, then started to push the other’s legs back towards his chest. “Hook your arms under your knees for me — no, right — yes, just like that. Thank you, darling.”
Gerard was almost buzzing with anticipation as Frank got back in between his legs and started to line himself up, readjusting his hold on his thighs as he continued to hold them back. When he felt Frank place a steadying hand on one of his calves, he put his gaze up towards the ceiling and waited, having to gulp down his excitement.
“You good?” Frank asked, pressing his tip against Gerard's hole and making the taller man squirm.
“Mhmm.”
“‘kay, let me know if you need a break.” With that final reminder, Frank carefully started to push into Gerard, a heavy breath tumbling past his lips at the feeling. At the top of the bed, Gerard had his face screwed up in discomfort, muttering profanities to himself as the burn and stretch started to take over his senses. Even after all the prep and lube, he still felt like he was being split in half, but he didn't ask for a break. He knew he'd be able to tough it out; it wasn't like he was going through this for the first time.
“You're doing so well, sweetheart, just a bit more.” Frank soothed, reaching down and taking hold of Gerard's hips to change the angle he was at in an attempt to make the last few inches as easy for him to take as possible. The dancer had let go of his thighs to reach backwards and hold onto the pillow under his head, waiting to feel Frank’s hips meet his.
Bottoming out, Frank bent over and kissed Gerard, slow and gentle and soft, cupping his jaw in his hands. He didn't say anything, leaning back after a few seconds and letting his hands slide up and down Gerard's sides. After a minute of Gerard just breathing, adjusting to the fullness he felt, and trying and failing to wrap his legs around Frank’s waist, he started reaching for the photographer, only to have his wrists swiftly pinned back up over his head.
“Did I say you could touch me?” Frank asked.
Gerard ignored the question. “Move, Frankie- shit.”
The photographer wrapped his other hand tightly around Gerard’s throat, his thumb and forefinger also holding onto his jaw with a near-vice-like grip. “That's not what I asked you. Answer the question if you want a chance to get anything.”
When Gerard stayed quiet, Frank spoke again. “You want to be difficult? You know, I can be difficult too. How does a cock ring sound, angel?”
“What? No, no, please don't.” Gerard begged, struggling to breathe and making a harsh, pained gasp as he tried his best to get in air. Frank released some of the pressure so the other wouldn't pass out, delighting in the way his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open.
“Then answer the question,” Frank said simply, “did I say you could touch me?”
Gerard shook his head frantically.
“Words.”
“No… you didn't.”
Frank nodded in satisfaction at Gerard’s answer, weakening his hold around his neck a little bit more as a reward. “Exactly.”
“Sir, please move. I’ll be good, I swear.” Gerard whined, having to use every single fiber of his being to not force his hips down towards Frank’s, knowing that the action would only keep him from what he was after.
“And why should I believe you?”
Gerard nearly started crying, feeling like he wouldn't be able to handle the stillness for much longer. “You have no reason to, but I — oh God — I can't take it anymore. I need you so bad, Frankie.” He blinked away the tears that had started to form and blur his vision, staring up at Frank and giving him his best puppy eyes in a last ditch effort to get him to fuck him already.
The few seconds that Frank spent thinking felt like Hell to Gerard. “Aww, you're such a pretty little thing, looking all desperate for me, begging and pleading.” He purred, letting go of the dancer’s throat entirely to reach up and pull at the knot of his tie. He carefully untied it, taking the tail out of each loop until the silk fell limply into his waiting hand.
“I'll fuck you, but on one condition:” Frank took hold of each end of the tie with both hands, wrapping it around Gerard’s crossed wrists and securing it tightly enough to stay even if Gerard pulled at it, but loosely enough to be easily undone when needed. “You can't touch me at all.”
Gerard frowned deeply. “No! Wh-”
“Do you want to be fucked or not?”
“I do…” The dancer mumbled after a pause.
Frank grabbed Gerard's jaw again and leaned in close enough for their lips to brush when he spoke. “Then quit complaining.” With that, he adjusted his position and took his time staring at the man in front of him, admiring every bit of him he could see from where he was. He found it hard to believe that he had the dancer in his bed, laying under him and pleading for him, saying his name, having his wrists bound with his tie. It felt surreal.
To prove that what was happening wasn't just some dream, Frank picked up Gerard’s hips and inched his way back out of him, a happy sigh coming from Gerard when he felt him start to move. When he was left with only his head inside, he pushed back in slightly, then back out, setting up a pattern to help Gerard ease into everything. Each time, he increased the amount he pushed in, every added inch becoming more and more difficult to keep slow with.
Gerard closed his eyes and breathed in and out through his nose as he laid there, his lips parted slightly to let his sighs of, “oh God”, “ Frankie”, and “Jesus Christ” slip out effortlessly. He didn’t know if he was feeling everything more intensely after the recent dry spell he'd had with sex, or if it was just that Frank was some sort of gift from Heaven, but in any case, he was already enjoying himself much more than he usually would.
He balled his hands into fists and cried out when Frank found a starting rhythm to rock his hips into him at, taking another shot at getting his thighs braced around the photographer’s middle so he could get him deeper, and once again failing. Accepting defeat for the time being, he settled on just hoping that Frank would eventually work towards a rougher pace. He was sure it would happen, but he wasn't sure if he had the patience to wait for Frank to build up to it on his own time.
Almost as soon as the thought of Frank being rougher crossed his mind, Gerard gave a startled yelp when the pace was changed from slow and steady to impatient and relentless.
“Why’re you so surprised, doll?” Frank asked, his huffed words hanging heavily in the air. “You wanted rough, I’m giving you rough.”
Instead of words, Gerard responded with high, blissful moans that jumped in time with Frank’s thrusts, the silken tie around his wrists being pulled taut as he tugged at it. If it weren't for the bruising grip Frank had on his hips to pull him down to meet each and every movement he made, he was sure he'd be forced back and make contact with the headboard.
“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” Frank groaned, his head hanging as the dancer’s voice joined in song with the sound of skin against skin. He knew he had neighbors, ones that wouldn't be too happy with him if they ran into him in the halls tomorrow, but he didn't care. If they heard him — which he was sure they would; Gerard was being the farthest from quiet — all they'd know was that his night was going better than theirs. Motivated by the prospect, he picked up his pace, feeling his suit being flooded with sweat from the exertion.
Gerard’s entire body felt overwhelmed with the hum and buzz of pleasure that was taking up residence under his skin, and he was slowly losing the ability to think about anything other than the man slamming into him like it was his last day on earth. His back arched off the bed when Frank drove right into his prostate at full force and he let out a loud whine. “Right there, right there,” he gasped, “Frankie, you feel so good.”
Frank found room between his own low noises to get out a short laugh at Gerard’s words, copying the thrust and basking in the beautiful noises and reactions he was earning from him. “Like that, love?”
The dancer nearly felt dizzy. “Ah! Yes, yes, Frankie… don't you dare stop.”
The photographer nodded along, letting go of one of his hips while still attempting to keep up the same pace and wrapping a hand back around Gerard’s throat, finding both pulse points and pressing down hard on them, feeling them speeding along at a blinding pace under his fingertips. One look at the dancer told him that he was in Heaven like this, and it got him wondering how such a sophisticated and quiet exterior could hide all of this away and leave everyone none the wiser to everything he was getting to find out now. He felt like he was being let in on some sort of insane secret, and it was enough for him to decide that he would continue to persue Gerard even after he went back home.
Gerard’s moan was coupled with a sharp gasp when Frank decreased the pressure around his neck, his sounds becoming wrecked and shallow as he struggled to breathe again. If he had the words to do so, he would tell Frank how good he was at choking him, but he tucked the compliment away for later so he could focus on the fact that suddenly, the unyielding speed he was being fucked at had been dampened and both of Frank’s hands had disappeared from his skin.
“Frankie, faster.” He whimpered, starting to move his hips down to try to work the rhythm back up.
“Patience, baby.”
“Sir.”
Frank took hold of Gerard’s jaw and shut his mouth for him. “I said patience.”
Gerard gulped and fell silent as he looked up at Frank after he was let go of, trying to figure out why exactly he had slowed down. To tease him? Maybe, it wasn't far-fetched by any stretch of the imagination. For a minute, he let his eyes fall shut again and focused on the pace he still had, which was obviously far better than nothing. Even then, it still wouldn't be enough to make him cum, at least, if Frank didn't have any other tricks up his sleeves.
When he opened his eyes again, he finally noticed why Frank had slowed down. The sight he was met with was nothing short of magical: the photographer had slowed down so he could unbutton the front of his dress shirt, revealing an expanse of ink and art that covered his skin, colors shining in the dim light from the sweat that had formed. The entire time, Frank hadn't stopped his movements, and the muscles in his abdomen could be seen moving slightly as he kept up the rhythm for Gerard.
His staring was put on pause when Frank leaned down and kissed him, keeping it short and sweet before pulling back just enough to still have his breath fan over his lips when he spoke. “Thank you for waiting,” he whispered, “don't you think you deserve a reward for being so patient?”
“Do I?” Gerard asked quietly, not wanting to ruin his chances at getting whatever reward Frank had in mind by agreeing.
“I think you do.” Frank answered, reaching up over Gerard’s head and giving the tie around his wrists a tug to undo the knot.
The dancer bit his lip. “Really?”
“Mhm,” Frank hummed, unwinding the silk until he could set it aside, “really.” He ran a hand over the red marks that had been left behind on Gerard's skin, soothing the area for a second before sitting up straight and readjusting Gerard’s hips and his own angle so he could be more comfortable after being bent over.
Hesitantly, Gerard reached out and ran his fingers gingerly over the tattoos on Frank’s chest, tracing over the ink and trying to remember every little detail that he could. The artist in him itched for a sketch pad now; Frank’s skin was a work of art all on its own, at least in his opinion. He was in awe of him, truly, and the list of reasons why continued to grow as his time with him wore on.
“Satisfied?” Frank asked.
When Gerard nodded, he smiled. “Good.” He said, then let his head drop forward again as he started to work back up to the implacable force he'd had going before he'd unbuttoned his shirt. The difference with his shirt being opened was worlds better than when it was closed, and it made him wish he had undone it earlier. And, of course, that look of pure admiration from Gerard was one that made him feel lightheaded. How could someone like him think he was worth that?
Gerard’s sounds started to increase in volume once again while Frank was getting back to pounding him into the mattress, and with his now freed hands, he covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle himself. Frank hadn't told him to be quiet, but he still felt like he needed to be for the sake of Frank’s neighbors.
Frank took his hands away from his mouth. “No, angel, let them hear you.” Following his request, Frank reached down and wrapped a hand around Gerard’s cock, using his precum to slick him up. “Let them hear you.” He repeated, squeezing Gerard and causing him to force his hips up towards his hand and let out a wail.
After a few minutes, through listening to Gerard’s voice and feeling his hands grip onto his suit-coat, Frank managed to find an angle and force that would get him to hit Gerard’s prostate with nearly every thrust he made. Gerard had started to thrash and squirm under him, and while he allowed it for a little bit, he eventually took hold of one of his biceps like he had when they'd been at the front door and held him down. A mostly still Gerard made it easier for him to fuck him, able to keep the same pattern without having to correct himself for Gerard’s movements.
Gerard had gone back to hiding his face away in his arms, now reduced to nothing but a whining, moaning, trembling mess, feeling so close to cumming and yet so desperate to hold off to keep the pleasure coming. His chest and face had started to bloom with red and his muscles had started to contract, but he still tried his hardest to hold back even with the stimulation from Frank both burying himself into his prostate and jerking him off.
“I know you're close,” Frank stated, running his thumb over Gerard’s slit and making him cry out and arch his back again, “you can let go, it's okay.” He reminded him, as if Gerard thought he wasn't allowed to cum. It wasn't that, no, and Frank knew that. Frank knew he would be overstimulating Gerard after he came, and he had a pretty good feeling that that was what the dancer was trying to avoid, even if he liked it.
When waiting to see if Gerard would finally give in didn't work and he still held on, Frank reached down for the final time to choke him. Gerard took hold of Frank’s wrist with both hands and dug his nails into his skin, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt rush after rush and wave after wave of heat and pleasure rock through him. His heartbeat roared in his ears like a storm, and now he was certain that this was it for him.
Finally, with a scream of Frank’s name, Gerard came harder than he ever had in his life. His orgasm seemed to rip through him and he swore he saw white for a minute, his body tensing up and twitching as he made a mess of his chest and Frank’s suit-coat. The photographer didn't mind, though, too busy staring in disbelief at the dancer, unable to comprehend how such a beautiful man could exist. Even if he wasn't the first person to see this sight, he still felt indescribably lucky to get to experience it himself. The feeling of Gerard pulling him in and making it hard for him to thrust made a shiver run up his spine, and he had to work even harder to keep up the pace.
Gerard, now spent and exhausted, collapsed back into the waiting arms of the blankets and pillows, chest heaving and heart thumping in his mouth. Instead of getting to rest, though, he was met with more stimulation than his body wanted while Frank followed along with his request to have him keep going after he came. He was sensitive and everything felt so overwhelming to him now, and all he could do was hold back tears.
On the flip side, Frank was now the one with rolled back eyes and a slack jaw as he continued to fuck up into Gerard, ignoring the ache he felt in his muscles from the constant movement. When he looked at Gerard and saw him with his face screwed up in pain and the corners of his eyes pricked with moisture, he slowed down, but was met with a weak, “don't stop,” from the other in return, getting him to speed right back up.
Frank held onto Gerard’s hips once again and got him to move down in time to meet his skin halfway, trying to jerk his head to flip his hair out of his face so he could keep his eyes on the dancer beneath him.
“You're incredible, Gerard, holy shit.” He breathed, giving a stupid grin when he was met with a tight-lipped smile from the other in response. He couldn't help but frown when he saw Gerard reach up and wipe the tears from his eyes with a curled finger, but kept going after telling himself that Gerard would tell him if something was wrong or if he needed him to stop. He trusted the other to let him know immediately.
Under his hands, Frank could feel Gerard’s body trembling from the overstimulation, and when he listened past the sound of his own soft noises and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, he could hear Gerard’s ragged breathing as it skipped and cracked like an old vinyl record from a mix of his thrusts and the tears that slid down the back of his throat. Even though he was worn out and sweaty, Frank still thought Gerard was the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in his life. He had to concede, too, to the fact that Gerard had been right about him being prettier after he was fucked. The afterglow draped over him like fine silks and linens, and if it wasn't weird, Frank would've snapped a photo just to be able to have the sight of him like this forever.
Frank’s rhythm faltered when he felt the first bit of heat begin to build up in the pit of his stomach, and he struggled to get it back as the sensation started to grow and become harder to ignore. Gerard lifted his head when he noticed and blinked back the wet from his eyes, keeping them open the best he could so he could watch what he knew was about to happen. Frank’s suit was no longer crisp and clean, the fabrics now rumpled and dampened through with sweat. His hair was no better, plastered to his forehead and yet also disheveled and sticking up haphazardly. Still, he was a sight to behold and cherish, and Gerard hoped that he would get to see the reviewer like this again someday, preferably sooner rather than later.
Gerard watched, enthralled, as Frank became more frantic and unorganized with his movements as his form continued to curl over, feeling his hold on his hips become more desperate as he got closer and closer to the edge. As if on cue, Frank stiffened and let out a cry of his own, cum spilling into the condom and cock twitching inside Gerard. The dancer felt a secondary rush of pleasure run through him while Frank’s face contorted into one he was sure he'd see in his dreams at night, a shiver chasing after it.
When Frank had ridden out every last second of his orgasm, he reluctantly pulled out of Gerard and pulled the condom off of himself, tying it off at the end and tossing it into the trash can that sat at his bedside. In a daze, he took a minute to catch his breath and stare at Gerard, then finally snapped out of it and tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up.
Climbing off the bed, Frank took a few slow steps and gathered the box of tissues on his dresser before walking them over to Gerard without a word. He took a couple out, setting one aside and using the other to dry the tears that stained Gerard’s eyes and cheeks. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before pulling back to clean his chest.
“Thank you.” Gerard murmured, his voice hushed.
“No need to thank me… I should be the one thanking you for agreeing to come home with me.” Frank laughed, tossing the dirty tissues away once he was sure Gerard was nice and clean, albeit sweaty. That was okay; he was sweaty too.
Gerard rolled his eyes and draped his arms over his chest when it was clean. “How could I say no to someone like you?” He propped himself up on his elbows and looked Frank right in his eyes. “It's a mystery to me how you don't spend your days dealing with a line of people just waiting to experience what I just did.”
“Who’s the flatterer now?” Frank joked as he slid out of his suit-coat and dress-shirt, sighing as the air caught his clammy skin.
“I'm not fighting for your title, don't worry.”
“Even if you were, I'd win it back.”
“Oh, I'm sure.” Gerard crossed his arms and turned his nose up at Frank.
Humming along in agreement, Frank leaned against his dresser and looked Gerard over casually. “Would you like me to take you home?” He asked.
Gerard thought about it for a second, then shook his head. “If you don't mind, could I stay here for the night? It's way too late to waste time driving all the way to my place and back.”
The photographer gave a nod. “Of course, you can stay, that’ll be alright. And if you're up for it, could I take you out for coffee in the morning?”
The dancer smiled from ear to ear, nodding fast. “I'd love that.”
“Perfect; it's a date, then.”