Chapter Text
Frank sits up, languidly stretching out his limbs while smiling at the alleviating click his shoulder makes. He slides a cigarette from his carton, prepared to ask for a lighter, but several people rush to bring their flame to him.
He smiles in unexpected pleasure, eyes tracing between the eager faces behind the lights, and chooses the pink one that reminds him of his favorite belt that unfortunately withered away from overuse. The woman behind it, he hadn’t captured her name, melts like butter at his acceptance of her and giggles with a sort of softened innocence as if she isn’t naked as the day she was born.
One of the guys, Frank thinks his name is Geoff, makes use of his flame by lighting up his own cigarette and breathing deeply. “Remind me again why I haven’t seen you before?”
“It’s my birthday. I don’t tend to dabble in big ole’ celebrations like this one unless it’s a special occasion.” Frank’s lips quirk around his cigarette, and Geoff smiles back, quick and feline.
“For some of us, it’s just a random Tuesday.” The guy who Frank will forever recall as the one with the truly magical mouth crosses one ankle over the other on the sofa he’s stretched out on, legs resting over the laps of two women wrapped up in each other’s arms, high enough to count as residents of their own personal dimension.
“Happy birthday,” the girl from before coos and Frank thanks her, smiling and resting his hand on his stomach.
What Frank wouldn’t give to be allowed the freedom it takes to attend these parties on the regular— but realistically, with his schedule and tendency to settle in the inconvenience of gray days before deciding he needs to feel any kind of rush, it’s within his best interest to keep these visits rare. Maybe this will even be the first and last he attends, he hasn’t decided yet. He doesn’t focus on making a decision either, not when he’s sated and basking in the glow of it, comfortably leaning on a mattress laid out on the floor and blowing smoke rings to the ceiling.
Ordinarily, his birthday consists of slumping on the couch sofa with a bowl of Halloween candy and old tapes with Elvira introducing double feature horror movies. He enjoys the routine of knocking himself into a sugar high mixed with beer until he’s shouting at the television screen for the oblivious horny couple to turn the fuck around. Then he laughs maniacally until his stomach hurts when they’re slashed and cartoonish spurts of fake blood stain the pristine white sheets wrapped around the screaming nude couple. It’s a timeless tradition. It’s only fair to mention his second unfaltering tradition of going out and parking amongst rows of other vehicles to pop open his trunk overflowing with sweets, making a fashion show out of the children prancing up to his car in their costumes to ask for candy. They giggle at his cheesy attempts to make them laugh and leave beaming from his generous fistfuls of candy he dumps into their plastic pails.
This year, Frank wanted to do something completely out of the water. He’s constantly surrounded by people telling him to make the most out of his twenties as he cuts through the sturdy center and looms near the end of them. Frank hasn’t really lived— or so people say. After giving up on dreams better left to fantasy, things have been duller than he’s ever allowed them to become. He’s being swept up in the cycle of doom that consists of waking, working, eating, sleeping, and repeating. Hearing these words from friends struck a chord and Frank hated the sting of it. Nothing is worse than when a negative assumption hits too close to home. Just to disprove their accusations, Frank ruminated for weeks about the wildest possible thing he could do to celebrate his twenty-sixth birthday.
Orgies aren’t commonly found with a quick round of research. It’s a sketchy type of thing people look down on for obvious reasons and it’s more of a secret society you’d need to gain access to before hearing anything about, at least in this city. Frank heard a couple of whispers about it from a friend of his. Hardly a friend, really, more like someone sewn to one of his best friend’s sides at parties and gatherings, a rich sort of guy with flashy successes he tries his hardest not to brag about around others, but the show-and-tell is obvious in his array of rings and shiny silk handkerchiefs tucked into polo shirt pockets.
Apparently, his house is just as loaded as his pockets, and after a couple rounds of shots that nearly burned a hole through Frank’s throat, he blurted out his affinity for hosting orgies at his place. Followed by admitting he thinks Frank would be a hit there.
Frank took it as flattery. Drunken, sloppy flattery, but it was ego-boosting nonetheless. Not everyone would take kindly to being outwardly told they’re fuckable by near strangers, but it makes Frank’s hands twitch and his mouth curl in a smile like an instinct. His ears had perked like a fucking dog, his teeth digging into his lower lip, and the lightbulb flickered to life above Frank’s head as it dawned on him.
No one can say Frank is wasting his twenties now.
It isn’t all about proving himself. Frank’s been miserable enough with his current job and falling into the same daily routine his friends spoke of, it’s also become the cause of something of a dry spell. He’s had onlookers and almost-hook ups in the rare times he livened up enough to go out, making out hurriedly in bathroom stalls or while pressed against car hoods in empty parking lots, but they never quite hit the mark enough to soothe the urge, like an itch under his skin his nails can’t reach on the surface.
It’s not like Frank hasn’t ever been intrigued by the thought of an orgy. He’s dabbled in a couple videos online and couldn’t even properly get himself off working out the mechanics of it, wondering how he’d position himself and focus on multiple people if he were in that scenario. The psychics and science of an orgy, if you will. Not the most invigorating map for its complications. Then, he would successfully get off on the thought of multiple hands and eyes praising him at once.
Which brings him here, blissed out on the floor of a ginormous room of his friend’s friend’s mansion, at a masked orgy. He’s surrounded by a group of naked people, some of which he’s touched tonight. Frank thanks whatever mystical being that created him assigned his soul with bisexuality because the more the merrier, in his very personal opinion. He’ll one day be content to settle for one person and stick to whatever they may have, but for now, he indulges in both with a dopey smile and skilled hands that buy him dozens of compliments tonight. He forgets his own charms that go numb in prolonged periods of silence until the right people elicit that side of him and it’s like he gets to become acquainted with himself all over again.
He feels like he’s won the lottery.
Now, his eyelids droop in warning, contentment slowing his heartbeat in the way he finds familiar. He sits up with a sigh, finishing off his cigarette and grinding it down in the glass ashtray balanced on a pillow. “We’re free to be here all night, right?” Someone to his left confirms. “Is there anywhere I can go to take a cat nap? Sex makes me fucking sleepy.”
“Second floor, there’s two huge hallways. Just listen out for noises and knock before entering any room, most people don’t bother to lock the doors.” The magical mouth guy gives the impression he’s a frequent visitor with how he offhandedly gives directions without so much as glancing towards the stairs.
Frank shrugs, taking his cigarettes and finding his phone and clothes to fish out his lighter, but he doesn’t bother putting them back on when he’s observed people comfortably walking around naked. They won’t so much as glance at him unless it’s with interest if he does the same.
Frank walks up the steps, cursing under his breath at how out of shape he feels around his thighs once he’s at the top. His place certainly doesn’t have stairs, nor did his childhood home. When he was younger, he always assumed spacious houses built with a second floor are reserved for the wealthy, but as he grew older, he realized that wasn’t necessarily the whole truth, he just grew up a little more unfortunate than the others. He’s lucky to have what he does now with the money he collects from his job as an assistant in a high-end music studio, though he would argue with the millions they make, they could afford to be a bit less stingy with their pay.
Frank selects one of the hallways to wander down, minding the advice to listen out for sounds and knock on doors. There’s the unmistakable sound of fucking bleeding through the walls and Frank swings his arms at his sides with a grin, occasionally flinging one out to thump against the doors in something of a congratulatory thud.
Eventually, he finds an open door to a vacant room set up in case visitors happen upon it. It’s dressed like a tiny lounge, a sofa identical to the one downstairs and an ottoman with blankets draped across it, a television propped up on the wall over the ivory mouth of an unlit fireplace situated with wood in case anyone would like to have a go at it. Obviously prepared to see the mood given the bucket of champagne and the folded towels for free use amongst other handy items. The lighting is low and ambient, a tint of red worked into the glow credited to the red stained glass wall sconces. It has the vague likeliness of a darkroom, draining Frank’s skin of its usual color but making his tattoos stand out like black ink on white paper.
“Fancy,” Frank mutters as he comes across satin tasseled pillows that smell of potpourri— lemon, he thinks, wrinkling his nose. He detests lemon, it never fails to remind him of harsh cleaning products, the dreadful memory of sleepily stumbling out of his room on a Saturday morning only to have his mother sternly thrust a mop into his hands.
He tosses a pillow aside and stretches his naked body out on the sofa, sinking into it, legs comfortably resting on the ottoman that’s soft from the throw blankets unlike the leather beneath the majority of Frank’s skin. He rests his hands on his stomach with a long sigh, crossing his ankles, and completely melts into the furniture as if this were his own home.
He could get used to this. He finds the remote to the television with a quick pat around the side table, flicking it on, eyes widening to find an abundance of apps installed. He turns on some low music with a black screen and tosses the remote away from him, not caring where it lands. His lids instantly grow heavy at the flood of peace filling the room. Patting around for his cigarettes he tossed somewhere beside him, he lights one and inhales slow drags of it.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to crash here for the night. It’s not as if anyone would rush to kick him out, after all, it’s an open invitation that won’t expire until morning . . .
Frank’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He cocks his head, wondering if someone’s lost or simply looking to get lucky. Just as he begins to question it, someone passes by, briefly glancing in Frank’s direction and falling out of sight. Before Frank has the chance to dismiss it, that same person pauses their steps. They backtrack and their head comes into view first— a beautiful head, Frank has to admit, with a mane of wild black hair and a lacy half-mask to cover around a lipstick-stained inviting mouth curving into a crooked uncertain smile. Small red roses are sewn into the black fabric like droplets of blood making a contrast against pale skin, dimly reminding Frank of Snow White.
For a moment, they only stare at each other as if processing the other’s existence and appearance. More like reeling in Frank’s case. It’s been a slight chance at best that he would ever understand what it means to have his breath taken away by the way someone looks, but that small percentage must have had more strength than he was willing to give it credit for when his lungs suddenly feel empty and his chest flutters.
“Hi.” The stranger says to break the silence that’s built between them.
“Hi!” Frank replies a bit too enthusiastically. He stays put, eyes glued to this person’s top lip that’s a bit thin, but has the most endearing little curve he’s ever seen. “You lost?”
“Nope,” the person pops the ‘p’. “Just searching for company. Seems like everyone’s already got someone downstairs, I was curious if I’d have better luck up here.” Their voice is distinct. A bit on the higher side, but it swoops down lower on certain syllables, and Frank can’t tell if it’s intentional or not.
“Consider yourself lucky.” Frank smiles, all too welcoming if anything.
They walk into full view and reveal a long leather trench coat with fur trimmings around the neck and cuffs, stopping just short of their knees. What’s intriguing about the exposure is that it implies they either have something incredibly short on underneath, or nothing at all, and when Frank’s eyes practically bulge out at the sight of shapely pale legs standing supple and smooth, he can’t decide which is the better alternative.
“What are you doing all by yourself up here? Did the party get too rowdy?” The person asks, raising what looks like a Starbucks up to their mouth to take a sip. It’s a bit throwing when Frank has seen wine glasses and beer bottles all night. Their deep red lipstick leaves a ring around the lid.
“More like it died down a whole lot and I could go for a good power nap.”
“Oh, sorry. Do you want me to . . .?” They don’t complete their sentence, merely awkwardly darting a thumb over their shoulder in the direction of the door.
“No,” Frank decides, already feeling a smile sliding over his mouth. He looks between their black painted fingernails and equally dark heels with a feeling of admiration growing warm in the pit of his gut. “I like pretty company.”
If anyone else had appeared to disrupt Frank’s peace, he thinks he would’ve gone with their offer to leave him be, but he feels undeniably drawn to how this stranger’s black hair curls around their soft jaw and how the flare of faux fur from their coat contrasts with the paleness of their skin. Frank imagined he would be all out of steam by now, but he wouldn’t mind being proven wrong if this is the person who puts his stamina to work.
Their smile eliminates all traces of insecurity under Frank’s compliment. Frank watches appreciatively as they seem to blossom before his eyes like a fast-motion time lapse of a flower being propped on a sunny windowsill as opposed to a shadowy corner. They step into the room with calculated grace, a subtle swing to their hips. Setting down their cup, they undo the ties to their coat and flash the red fur lining before letting it fall open to reveal the silky slip dress underneath with a delicate lace trimming and deep neckline. The loosened coat slips over one milky white shoulder and it’s like the whole house is holding its breath along with Frank in that split second of exposure before they remove the coat entirely.
“Wow,” is all Frank can manage to choke out. Not his smoothest moment, but it seems to suffice as much as any other form of flattery when the stranger smiles with a tiny giggle, suddenly back to normal now that they’ve relished his reaction.
“Where’s your dress, princess?” They ask, eyebrow raised.
“Must’ve left it at home.”
“Hmm. I think I prefer you like this anyway.” They wink beneath their mask and Frank has to physically clench down his abdominal muscles against the way it makes his stomach flutter.
They saunter over and sink down beside him, not minding his nakedness.
In fact, their eyes shamelessly rake over him, settling around his tattooed hips. Those are popular with the crowds, Frank has noticed. He has never understood what it is about ink in these particular areas that drive people crazy, but he’s proud to flaunt it, even if it was without intention.
“What’s your name?” they ask.
Frank almost blurts out his real name, but he remembers one of the rules he was told at the beginning, the number one rule of preserving anonymity. He bites his lip to hold back a smile and says, “Alex.” He doesn’t have a particular reason to choose that name, it’s the first thing that pops into his mind, even if he feels it doesn’t quite suit him. Neither does Frank — but he doubts that suits anyone.
It’s not easy to see, but the person’s eyebrows go up under the lacy plaster of their mask that’s nearly identical to Frank’s. They’re dubious, but playful once they understand. They laugh, crossing one smooth leg over the other. “Alright, Alex. You can call me Gee.”
“And how do I refer to you?” Frank feels guilty about his confusion over their gender.
Gee shrugs, leaning their back on the sofa and rolling it to the side to peer at Frank under long lashes and shadows obscuring their eye color. “Anything you want. But, most people go with ‘he’, I’m chill with it. Knee-jerk reaction to seeing a dick even if there’s a dress above it.”
Frank can’t help sputtering out a laugh at that. Gee smirks like he’s aware of his comedic effect, almost arrogant with it. Frank has to look away from his face when it’s almost too much to look at them, especially with his body so close to his own. He eyes their abandoned coat and drink, connecting a few dots.
“Did you just get here? The party started two hours ago.”
Sheepishness overtakes the set of Gee’s shoulders. “I have the worst concept of time. Also, I didn’t think orgies would be a thing that expects you to be so damn punctual. I thought being late was the new fashion.”
“Maybe. It’s only cute when people like you do it.” Frank plucks a cigarette from his carton and lights it, smiling over the glow at Gee who turns to him curiously.
“And what am I?”
“Beautiful.” Frank holds their eyes as he blows out his smoke, savoring the tingle. His smile tugs into a grin, chin pointing towards their jacket. “Beautiful enough to pull off that pimp coat.”
“It’s designer!” They exclaim.
“Oof, a material girl.”
“Just how Madonna raised me.” Gee beams.
Frank can’t protest against those with exquisite taste. He plucks the cigarette from between his lips and holds it up in offering, arching an eyebrow. He can’t figure out if Gee smokes, all he smells on him is perfume much more appealing than the lemon scented pillows, the absence of ash permeated into his hands and hair creates doubt that he does. He earns his answer by Gee taking the cigarette and inhaling deep like it’s an instinct for him. Frank waits for the coughing and sputtering, wondering minutely if it’s a ploy, but he only abandons his question with surprise when he blows a series of smoke rings slowly disappearing in midair.
When Frank’s cigarette is returned to him, the stain of lipstick and the taste of Gee on it makes Frank’s skin feel hot and too tight.
“Have you been to one of these before?” Gee inquires.
“Uh, no. Tonight is my first time.” Frank tries not to dwell on the part of him that shies away from how amateur it sounds, but he cuts himself some credit for the fact that most people don’t make a habit of exploring like this.
“I figured I would’ve jumped on any chance to talk to you if I’d seen you around. I’m friends with the guy who owns this place, he says it’s like his summer vacation home or whatever. I guess it’s good for a designated orgy spot, too. Being hidden all the way in the fucking hills of the city is bound to cover up the sounds of moaning and yowling.” Gee’s mouth curves in the most peculiar way when he smiles, almost like he’s reluctant to show his small teeth despite not being able to help himself, and Frank is immediately drawn in by it.
“So you’ve been here before,” He picks at Gee’s incidental vagueness from a moment ago.
“Mhm.” Gee’s eyes track Frank’s hand guiding the cigarette back to his lips. “Call it an explanation for my carelessness with time. In my defense, punctuality has never been an issue until now. You must’ve been an eager and horny group of motherfuckers.”
Frank spits out a high giggle, smoke stammering out of his mouth. “You’d be the only one out of the both of us who could say if that’s for sure the case. I just came at the time that was texted to me and jumped in like it was a fucking community pool.”
“That’s the spirit. Good boy,” Gee teases, momentarily putting Frank at a loss for words. He clears out the thickness of cobwebs rapidly forming in his brain to avoid lapses of charm because he can’t afford to fuck this up, newly set in his resolve when Gee smiles with pleasure at his reaction, not oblivious to the ceasing of his motor functions.
Frank chuckles once, almost a nervous sound, shifting his thigh his soft dick is resting against, and watches Gee closely in the red-tinted low light.
“What’s the occasion?” Gee asks.
Frank raises his eyebrows. “What makes you think there’s an occasion?”
“Well, for one, you’ve got that special boy glow radiating off of you, so I’m supposing you got some equally special treatment for a damn good reason. Not just because you’re gorgeous.”
Clever observation. Frank wonders what he looks like illuminated by that glow being mentioned in the eyes of others, hoping to find it in Gee’s eyes, but they break eye contact when Gee glances down at Frank’s fingers languidly scratching at his belly in thought.
“It’s my birthday,” Frank smiles crookedly, “and from the looks of it, you forgot to bring me a gift.”
Gee snorts. “I’m the gift. Sorry, I don’t come with a receipt.”
He may be right about that. “I see how it is, not even gonna try to suck up a little and get me two gifts?”
“I’m perfectly adequate, don’t get greedy. I’m not opposed to sucking though.” Gee’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips.
Giddiness works its way up to Frank’s throat and he has to suppress the urge to giggle idiotically at the slight possibility of being spoiled further by Gee’s fleeting affections, the kind that leaves behind scalding marks that Frank dizzily thinks about for weeks after their encounter.
For a moment, the reminder that this chance meeting has to find its end at some point during the night triggers a flicker of thick disappointment in a way that’s difficult to adjust to. Frank’s never completely careless with one-night stands, but then again, none have been capable of charming Frank like this right off the bat.
“So, birthday boy, a moment ago . . .” Gee starts, turning his body towards Frank, the silk shifting like water over him. “Was that you’re way of telling me you’re all fucked out for the night?”
It rings with hope that Frank will have an opposing answer in store. Frank lets the hope linger, taking his time smoking, enjoying the rush he gets from feeling Gee’s impatience grow the longer he draws out the silence.
“For now,” Frank leaves it at that. Ambiguous for some, but clear in message for Gee who quickly licks his lips and processes that. Gee sits up after kicking off his shoes, swinging his legs up on the sofa to sit back on his heels. His dress slips further up his full thighs and Frank almost chokes on his smoke. God . That soft shaven skin extends further up than he anticipated and it leaves him wondering if everything is smooth. It can’t be the quick work of a razor, whatever Frank’s eyes catch on is deliriously soft like it’s accommodated to its hairless state for more than a day and the image of Gee taking wax strips to his legs is causing the strangest wave of arousal to seep through Frank’s insides. It’s interesting discovering what turns him on all depending on the person being presented to him.
“What’s your poison?” Gee steals the cigarette back during Frank’s moment of weakness with a knowing smile.
Frank clears his throat, finding his tongue that he seems to have swallowed. Once he has his cool back, he answers with, “I like everyone.”
“Not exactly what I meant.” Gee waggles his eyebrows until Frank understands.
“Whatever feels good and makes me feel pretty. I guess you could say I’m not the picky type.”
Gee hums, smiling almost softly. It highlights the roundness of his cheeks bringing together the circular shape of his face and Frank discovers this particular detail is one that contributes to his androgyny. “I bet it’s not hard to make you feel pretty. You already are. You must have the whole world on its knees.”
Frank’s heart bangs up furiously against his chest. He blushes — and it’s a difficult feat making him blush when he’s beyond the point of being modest and pure as the driven fucking snow.
Still, he manages, “I prefer being the one on my knees.”
Gee is taken by surprise this time, to Frank’s deep satisfaction. He watches his throat bob with a hard swallow and Frank is greedy for more, but this pace is a simmering heat he’s been dying to achieve for so long. He leans into it, playing with fire, but only tentatively. The tips of his fingers stroking flame.
“What are you here for, Gee? Just a taste? Or everything all at once?”
Gee inches closer, masking the intention of the movement by pretending it’s to push the cigarette back between Frank’s lips. He parts them, eyes locked on Gee as he leans forward and closes them around the tip. He peeks through his lashes as he inhales a lungful. Gee breathes out shakily through his nose.
“Well, ideally, I would’ve liked to watch the crowd before jumping in at just the right moment. I like when several people have me at once, and watching several others get off at the sight of it. Makes me feel like I’m the center of the universe and everyone else is revolving around me.”
Frank’s breath catches. It makes perfect sense he would enjoy being watched with the little show he put on with shedding his coat. If that was enough to spark Frank to life again, he can only imagine what theatrics Gee would pull out with a depraved audience hungry for the sight of his debauchery.
It’s a dangerous thought, because now Frank is picturing him naked, flushed and sweating, being worked to the limits but loving every moment of it. He’s devastated by the thought that the wildest part of the night has passed and he won’t be rewarded with that sight. Suddenly, he’s the unluckiest birthday boy that’s ever lived.
Gee giggles, a tiny sound at the back of his throat. He touches the underside of Frank’s chin, the heat of his hand flaring under Frank’s skin and settling in his gut. “Don’t look so pouty. One is enough sometimes. That’s if you’re willing to be the one.” He takes Frank’s cigarette when it’s all but ash and grinds it out on the bottom of his heel.
Frank finds the situation similar to the absurdity of someone asking a person whose dragged through the desert for several days if they would like water to soothe their parched tongue; the answer is so fucking obvious, yet Frank makes it clear with a humiliatingly desperate nod, parted lips and all.
Gee makes a small rumbling sound, like a quieted thoughtful hum or a sound of approval. His eyes track down to Frank’s mouth and his hand returns to the bottom of his chin, only to tilt his head back so their faces are at level with each other. “Yeah? Are you gonna be my special boy for the night?”
“I’ll be anything you fucking want.”
Gee’s eyes squint even if his lips remain sealed as he smiles. “You’re perfect just like this.”
Frank starts to shift, ready for that collision, but Gee puts a hand up to stop him. Frank stares with confusion. It deepens when Gee stands, shoving aside the ottoman to clear up the space. He bends slowly, arms bracketing either side of Frank, face so close Frank can smell the smoke and perfume combined in an intoxicating unique fragrance. He’s looming over Frank, appreciatively appraising him, and suddenly, Frank feels like prey to a feline, but oh god, he wants to be captured between his sharp teeth just to know what that pain feels like.
“Let’s take it slow, yeah? We’ve got all night, I wanna take my time with you,” Gee whispers, words a sweet breath across Frank’s mouth.
Now, Frank is into the whole submission thing, it’s an inclination and preference formed through earth-shaking experience, but he’s never felt this eager for it. He twitches, nodding dumbly again, not daring to breathe too hard. Gee smiles at him sweetly and pushes back to stand again.
He walks over to the basket of champagne, picking up the bottle and waving it. “You drink?”
“Yeah,” Frank answers with a scratchy voice.
Gee takes his time popping the cork and filling one of the flukes with the bubbling liquid. Frank assumes he’ll be pouring a second glass, but he arrives back with one hand empty. He holds the glass towards Frank, assumingly for him to grab it, but Frank stops short when Gee tsks at the first movement of his hand. He stares intently at Frank with a faint tilt to his red lips as he brings the rim of the glass to Frank’s mouth, the other hand braiding gently into his hair to guide his head back.
Feeding him the fucking champagne.
Frank gulps greedily, eyes huge and watering from the tingle of carbonation sliding down his throat, but Gee chuckles softly under his breath and pulls the glass back before he can consume all of it. A droplet trickles down his chin and his tongue swipes over his lips to gather the excess.
“That taste good?” Gee asks, voice soft as silk.
“Really fucking good,” Frank says tremulously.
“Finish it.”
Gee’s fingers tighten in Frank’s hair, bordering pain, but they move his head back again with a tenderness that keeps him dancing along that fine line. He feeds Frank the rest of the champagne, and when he pulls the glass back, he leans in and licks a stray drop from the corner of Frank’s mouth. Frank almost swears with frustration when Gee pulls away too abruptly to give Frank the chance to chase his mouth.
Gee discards the glass, eyes unwaveringly resting on Frank. He slowly walks back to stand mere inches away from him, hands smoothing over the slip dress embellishing him.
“Tell me what they did to you down there,” Gee requests. He pushes off one dress strap down his shoulder and stops. Waiting expectantly for Frank to start. Clearly, there’s a game he wants to play.
Frank unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth— has it always been this fat? He looks down at himself, the evidence of being touched, remembering how powerful he felt, and maybe Gee wants a small taste of that too even if he wants Frank to squirm for the most part.
Swallowing, he remembers himself. He slowly drags his fingers over his hip, right along the bird tattoo towards the right. Gee follows the movement with hungry eyes and yeah, Frank gets it now. He likes to be watched, but to watch as well.
“At first, it was just two people. Two guys. I’d been watching before I noticed them looking at me. They were already linked up, it went without discussion that they wanted to share me if I would give them the chance.” Frank scratches along his own skin over the fresh faint bruises. “They walked over and no one even spoke before starting. We were kissing. Dirty, like nothing I’ve ever done before. Have you ever gotten your tongue between two moving pairs of lips?”
“No,” Gee says, voice scratchy like an old record.
“You’d like it. It’s sloppy, and filthy, and so good.” Frank swallows hard, watching Gee’s flushing face and his hand twitching at his side.
“I’m sure you didn’t just kiss them.” Gee flicks the remaining dress strap down his arm. It goes down like a trickle of fluid. Frank feels his cock twitch excitedly between his legs.
“One of them went down on me. He had a perfect mouth, somehow he knew every sensitive spot, and he kept repeating his tricks over and over whenever he got a reaction out of me. The other kept kissing me, and he was touching himself. But I didn’t let him do all the work. I had him fuck my mouth while the other guy kept sucking me.”
“How’d he like that?” Gee’s eyes rest heavily on Frank’s lips.
“He fucking loved it. Wouldn’t stop telling me about how soft my lips were, how good my throat felt.”
“Was anyone watching?”
“Several people,” Frank licks his lips. He lowers his hand down so his fingertips graze the trail of sparse hairs just below his navel. “A couple of women, some guys. The others were too busy with each other to notice much. One of the girls felt brave and came over to help me suck the other guy off.”
“And did he get to come like that?” Gee pushes the dress down his body slowly, revealing more pale skin, a shaved chest and pink nipples. Frank’s mouth overflows with saliva.
“Yeah,” Frank croaks. “The guy— the one sucking me off, he wasn’t satisfied with just that. So he got me ready and fucked me face-down on the sofa. The girl that helped me jerked me off at the same time.”
“Fuck,” Gee whispers. He drops the dress and what’s underneath makes Frank dig his own nails painfully into his thigh.
Black panties, lacy like the trim of the slip dress. The best part of it is they’re so small that part of his cock is exposed, huge and half-hard, the pink tip poking out of the stretched waistband. It’s confirmed that he isn’t entirely shaven, but only a patch of hair grows around the root of his dick, trimmed and neat. Gee’s fingertips graze along the fabric, nails making the faintest scratch, palm closing over the crotch to adjust himself so it elicits the smallest sound of pleasure at the feeling no matter how transient it is. If Frank wasn’t drooling before, he sure fucking is now.
“Please,” Frank finds himself practically whining out his plea, “come here.”
Gee looks like he’s deeply moved by the temptation, but he’s intent on drawing it out, as if he wants more of Frank’s pleas to ring through his head like church bells. When he walks, it’s with the same measured grace he used when he first put on a show for Frank, only this time, there’s more heat behind it. There’s the faintest tremble to his fingertips exposing the width of his desire and Frank just wants him to dive entirely into it, give Gee all the reason to abandon his plans.
Frank bites the bullet. He finds himself reaching out for Gee, fingers digging into the softness of his hips sharply enough to bring a surprised gasp to the top of his throat. He tugs Gee forward, nearly making him stumble, but he holds him steadily enough to prevent the collapse. Then he’s there, face hungrily nuzzling against the scratch of hot lace, nose skimming across the pattern to deeply inhale the heady scent of Gee’s arousal until the tip of his nose feels raw from friction. This smell— he fucking loves it, as strange as it may seem to others. It gets him going, makes his mouth water. He gasps against the fabric, mouth skimming across the top, tongue licking along the waistband and finding smooth skin it digs into with its vice grip.
Gee moans out in surprise. “Jesus fucking christ.” His hand flies out, fingers curling so tight into Frank’s hair that it hurts. Frank drags his open mouth across the outline of Gee’s cock, greedily whining as he feels it twitching, filling out under his hot breath and his cheek eagerly pressing to it. He feels his own saliva pooling in his mouth and marking the lacy fabric, and what he wouldn’t give to just pull out Gee’s cock and spit , abandoning all form of chivalry and manners as he pries his own jaw open and forces his own head down the entirety of Gee’s dick. His fingers caress the silvery markings along Gee’s hips and thighs, like translucent ripples over a body of water, and wants to drink from him the way he would a freshwater lake.
“Fuck,” Gee hisses, yanking Frank’s head back in an abrupt motion. His eyes are dilated, still without a clear enough view for Frank to know their color, but he gazes up at them anyway. “Hold on, I need to get—” he huffs almost in annoyance, and for a moment Frank wonders with a small forming wound if it’s aimed towards him, but it becomes evident Gee is frustrated by the fact he has to pull away to retrieve something from the bottom shelf built into the side table.
It’s a basket Frank hadn’t spotted before. It overflows with products ranging from lube to protection, all forms he can possibly think of. He flushes to his hairline. He’d been stupid enough to neglect the importance of protection when getting with strangers, but in his defense, no stranger he’s been with has ever appeared to him in a slip dress and tight panties that barely contain his impressive junk. He thinks he can be pardoned for that alone.
“C’mon, put it on me,” Gee breathes, planting the condom into Frank’s hand. His skin feels overheated just like Frank’s. “Then you can choke on it, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Frank almost accidentally exclaims, but he isn’t so set on making himself appear like he’s only missing a fucking tail to wag.
Frank removes Gee’s cock from the snug confines of the panties, admiring the resilience of the fabric that he can tell is additionally being put to work around the back, but he hasn’t had the pleasure of getting a view of it yet. He swallows hard at the wet heat of Gee’s skin, the heaviness of his cock in his hand that feels small in comparison as he wraps his tattooed fingers around it to give a slow stroke. Gee’s breath hitches, hips pushing forward, and Frank can’t resist planting a kiss on his hip as if to thank him for the orgasmic sensation of his thick cock sliding through the circle Frank has created with his hand.
“It’s so fucking big,” Frank watches Gee slowly fucking his hand.
Gee snorts lightly. “You get that line from porn?”
Frank giggles. “I wouldn’t ever think of using it before now. I think it’s appropriate, isn’t it?”
“Alex,” Gee mutters impatiently, sliding through Frank’s hand until his cupped hand is ringing around the base and the tip nearly pokes Frank’s chin. Frank really wishes he had said fuck the rules just to hear his real name on Gee’s tongue. “Get your mouth on me.”
He tears open the condom packet with his teeth. His fervor blends with impatience in a lethal combination, but he doesn’t suddenly forget his skill while rolling the condom over Gee’s cock. He ensures it’s secure and a wave of relief overcomes him, so much so it sends him slumping forward, Gee’s cock laying against his cheek. Gee gasps, threading his fingers in Frank’s hair again, staring down at him with knitted eyebrows and parted red lips.
Frank hums, rubbing his cheek against his cock, wishing he could feel skin-on-skin, but this will have to do. He turns his open mouth and breathes all across it, finally sliding his tongue out and soaking it in a series of long licks. He tastes rubber and lube, but he pretends there’s something more potent underlying in hopes that he’ll convince himself enough to actually taste it.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” Gee whispers, taking control of the situation by guiding the tip of his cock to Frank’s parted lips and slowly sinking in. He groans, petting Frank’s cheek. “Those lips— you think you can take all of me, gorgeous? Because I really wanna see you do that.”
Frank whimpers, attempting to nod, but it’s difficult given the circumstance. He feels the immediate tingle and burn in his jaw, the tears springing and gathering in his eyes the deeper Gee ventures inside, but he continues going slowly so as to not choke Frank or quickly overwhelm him. Frank breathes shakily through his nose, for a split second thinking this may truly be too much for him to handle, but then, when Gee is down his throat, he stops.
Frank has taken all of him. Suddenly, all worries dissipate and he’s flooded with an almost pompous feeling of victory, telling himself he should’ve known better than to doubt what he’s renowned for. He blinks up through tears at Gee who gazes down at him with equal parts reverence and awe. Gee moans softly, a high sound fluttering like butterfly wings at the back of his throat. He strokes Frank’s hair with both hands, slowly thrusting, gasping at the soft choking noises Frank makes. His whole body clenches up in protest, but he forces himself to relax. It’s a ritual he knows well.
“Oh my god,” Gee whimpers. “No one’s ever been able to take all of me like that, fuck. You feel— you feel so good, I can’t believe—” He can’t finish his sentence. He tosses his head back when Frank’s tongue rubs along the underside of his cock, feeling the vein there, and Frank moans at the delivery of praise he receives.
“Imagine doing this without a condom?” Gee caresses around Frank’s jaw, inching towards his stretched glistening lips to trace along the curve of the reddened skin. “I’d be making such a mess, leaking down your throat the whole time. Getting you so fucking sloppy. I love mess. I love pulling out just when I’m about to come and watching myself spill all over someone’s tongue. You’d look so beautiful catching it all.”
Frank whimpers and eagerly bobs up and down with the encouragement of the pure filth Gee is speaking to him, swallowing and slurping, a disgusting mess of tears and spit streaking along his face.
It’s difficult, he can’t deny that— Gee’s cock is bruisingly hard and Frank’s entire jaw is trembling from the effort of forced relaxation while being pried open almost to the limit. But it’s so good when Gee takes the liberty of fucking Frank’s mouth, moaning with those soft delicate sounds each time he breaches Frank’s throat. Gee props his leg up on the sofa and tips Frank’s head back to get deeper and his throat feels sore and destroyed, but it’s too good to stop every time Gee slides back in and Frank’s muscles spasm around it. Frank can’t breathe, he can’t even think, overcome with an urge to taste like he never has before. The condom won’t allow it.
Without the willingness to deprive himself further, Frank frantically taps Gee’s thigh. Gee pulls out instantly and strokes Frank’s cheek with his thumb, the picture of worry.
“Sorry, I was cutting off your air, wasn’t I?” He winces.
“Well— yeah, but I love that,” Frank laughs breathlessly, his voice a wreck. “God, it’s just, it’s not that. I’m dying to taste you.”
“You know we can’t.”
“No, I mean, like— just turn around. Please?” Frank pleads, fingers damp and arms wrapping around Gee’s hips to cling. He stares up at him beseechingly, kissing his pale belly in a slow trail.
Gee strokes Frank’s cheek with the back of his hand, mesmerized by his show of unadulterated affection even within desire. He bites his lip and nods, but before he can utter a single word out, Frank is using his position to his advantage. He swings Gee around towards the couch, flipping him, and pushing him down so he’s bent over it.
Gee gasps, raising himself up on his arms and casting a bewildered yet amused look over his shoulder. “You’re so needy . I would tease you for it if it weren’t so fucking hot.”
Frank would say he has a perfect response for that, but if he’s being honest, he feels that mental disconnect once again. With Gee bent over, panties twisted around his thighs, Frank is left kneeling at eye-level with his ass. He all but falls over in his pursuit of it, hands caressing the soft pale skin, fingers digging into the plush skin and pulling apart his cheeks to get a glimpse of his pink hole. He moans, watching Gee part his thighs invitingly and arch his back. He jumps when Frank can’t help reeling his hand back and smacking the skin red, capturing a tiny breathless giggle like he can’t believe Frank’s shamelessness.
“You’re beautiful,” Frank whispers, fingers tracing along a shadowy mark on the inside of Gee’s thigh. It’s shaped curiously like a bat, he thinks, and he grins. “Your birthmark is cute.”
“Yeah?” Gee asks breathily, reaching underneath to brush his own fingers against it. “It’s kinda fitting, I have a bat belt buckle I wear all the time at home. I would’ve brought it if I’d worn pants, but where’s the fun in covering yourself up at an orgy?”
Frank’s overwhelmed with the desire to taste it. He thinks with a thrill he has every bit of permission to, so his mouth trails a scalding trail to the mark in question, his tongue dragging over it and teeth nipping until he feels a tremor run through Gee’s legs.
He brings a series of bites further up, lips grazing Gee’s cheek, before he spreads him apart and licks a long stripe up. Gee gasps, one hand falling back to hold himself open, fingers grasping so tightly at his own skin that a flush of red overtakes the fingerprint indentations in contrast to his fair skin. Frank moans at the sight, all but pressing his face in Gee’s ass, tongue eagerly lapping at his hole.
“Holy fuck,” Gee gasps. “That feels so fucking good. ”
Frank doesn’t do this often. He doesn’t want to do it with every person. Besides, it’s more of a habit to lay back and receive despite his talents for returning the favor, which he’s never protested to before, but he’s thanking his own self for following the path of his urges because the sounds Gee makes are doing it for him, paired with the feeling of Gee clenching around his tongue that shallowly fucks in and out of him once he’s wet enough with spit. He pants, alternating before plunging his tongue in and sweeping around the rim, lapping with a strong dripping tongue until Gee’s arms are trembling from the exertion of keeping himself up. Gee shoves his hips back, back arching into a perfect curve with urgency leading the frequency of his moans.
Frank reaches underneath, grasping Gee’s cock in his sweaty palm, stroking quick and hard. Gee gasps, fingernails raking desperately along the sofa. “Wait— fuck, wait.”
Frank immediately halts every motion with a sharp flash of alarm. “I’m sorry, did I do something?”
“Oh yeah. I’m seriously gonna fucking come if you keep doing that.” Gee laughs breathlessly, shakily hoisting himself up. He twists around, falling back on the sofa in a limp mass of pale limbs, face bright and flushed. “You didn't give me any warning about how good your tongue is.”
“I thought the blowjob would’ve been a good enough hint.” Frank tries not to be too cocky, instead bashfully bowing forward with a tiny smile and trailing small kisses up the side of Gee’s thigh. He tastes of sweat and something a touch silicone, floral, maybe lotion judging from the stickiness he encounters upon his cheek.
“Well, that was mostly the work of your throat at one point.”
“My magical throat.”
“You’re so full of yourself. Get up here.”
Frank can’t properly muffle the flurries of laughter that spring up in his throat like fireflies trapped in a jar. He scrambles up off his knees, meaning to stand and lean over as Gee had earlier, but he’s stunned to the point of laughter becoming strangled then cut off when strong hands are at his hips, guiding him onto the open space in Gee’s lap. He gasps, automatically planting his knees on the sofa on their side of Gee’s hips, balanced with his hands wrapping around his upper arms. Like this, they’re pressed together intimately, chest-to-chest, and even when Frank adjusts, he moans weakly feeling his cock dragging along Gee’s soft skin. God, he’s so fucking turned on that Gee could guide his dick in the inner crease of his elbow and Frank would unravel.
“You’re so pretty,” Gee says softly, almost too softly given their compromising position and the fact they’ve barely met, but it tugs at Frank’s chest and groin. A flicker of adoration blending with the arousal that comes with being admired like this, Gee’s hands stroking up his waist and pulling him impossibly closer, eyes boring into him.
“You think you got treated the way you deserve tonight?”
Frank shakes his head. “I deserve you.”
Gee chuckles deeply, kneading Frank’s hips until the bruises sting with a dull pain making Frank unthinkingly grind up against him. “Gonna fuck you just the way you want.”
“Please,” Frank whispers.
“Take off your mask?” Gee asks tentatively. More of a suggestion than a real question.
Frank wholly considers it. He touches the lace of his half-mask snug against him, thinking of how easy it would be to undo the ribbon bindings at the back and let it tumble free to reveal himself. But the thought occurs to him; what if keeping Gee waiting also keeps him eager? Eager for more, after all of this? He’d be baited by temptation and Frank won’t have to say goodbye forever, next time they could be within the confines of a more private place where their faces are laid bare to each other, hands wandering, and maybe, with a clear check-in so Frank won’t have to be so guarded when touching or tasting him.
Frank’s lips twist in a half-smile. His fingertips trace along the underside of Gee’s mask, feeling his flushed cheek. It obscures enough of his face that he can only see and touch part of it. He wanders down to the corner of his mouth, red lips done up in makeup, only inches from Frank’s. Those lips part at the arrival of his touch. Frank stains the pad of his thumb scarlet tracing the shape of his lower lip, his heart pounding. His throat twitches dryly and he can no longer keep his desires at bay.
Frank smears his lipstick-colored thumb across Gee’s chin as he leans in and kisses him hungrily. A distraction from his question, but also the white flag that can satiate the both of them and save them from disappointment. Frank moans at the subtle taste of hazelnut from what they’d been drinking combined with the bitter cigarette ash he’s so familiar with. It dances on his tongue as Gee moans into his mouth, tongue swiping in, running along the back of Frank’s teeth as he kisses back with a fervor that runs under Frank’s skin like a live wire.
They’re grasping at each other, moaning and sharing gasping breaths, hips rocking up towards each other so their cocks rub together, hot skin against rubber. Frank releases a tiny whine of frustration, eager for friction.
Gee’s teeth dig into Frank’s lower lip and bite down just enough for it to hurt, but not enough for it to bleed. Frank whimpers with need, rolling his hips towards Gee. Gee’s hands that feel like pure fire wander up Frank’s thighs and creep up, landing on Frank’s ass. He squeezes harshly, enough for Frank to toss his head back, yet he moves towards those insistent hands. Gee’s smeared red mouth travels to Frank’s neck to ravish it— right when he pulls Frank’s cheeks apart, fingers moving to the center to rub over his hole still stretched and wet from earlier.
“Fuck, I don’t even have to get you ready for me, do I? All wet and open already.” Gee licks up the side of Frank’s neck over his thrumming pulse. “Or maybe I do. You could barely take me down your throat.”
Frank wants to toss himself onto Gee’s cock and shout that he’s his, but he can only manage a head shake, a trembling moan when Gee’s finger circles around his asshole.
“I’m fine. Let me ride you, I’ll show you just how good I can take it,” Frank breathes.
Gee moans like the offer is irresistible, removing his hand. His eyes don’t leave Frank when he reaches for the lube and condoms, flinging a foil packet at Frank and impatiently flipping the cap to the lube. He unceremoniously drips it all over his cock while Frank shakily rolls the condom over his own dick. Gee rubs the lube in with his fist, lipstick smeared all over his mouth and chin, and it’s so fucking hot to Frank that he’s responsible that. He’s certain his mouth is in a similar state of ruin and it makes his cock jerk, his legs shaking as he bats Gee’s hand away, raising himself up, and dropping down.
Frank doesn’t hesitate to take Gee all at once. It only comes with a small tinge of protest and regret. Gee is larger than anyone he’s taken tonight— if he’s being honest, he thinks he might be bigger than anyone in this fucking house— so despite the fact he was stretched and lubricated, hot sparks fly up his lower back in the struggle to adjust. But Frank isn’t patient, has lost the complete definition of the word. He only takes the fuel that’s laced in Gee’s moan of surprise, teeth digging hard into his own lower lip as he starts rolling his hips in hopes that setting his body into motion will make it more accommodating to all he’s forcing it to take. Frank is a lost man if he has no persistence.
God— he feels good. Frank’s stretched to the limit and full in ways that are inexplicable, to the point where he almost feels Gee at the very back of his throat. He admires himself for being able to withstand it, whimpering and trembling as he guides his hips slowly over the cock inside him. His muscles flex, the innermost part of his thighs burning in the trial of setting up a slow rhythm at least have some mercy upon himself despite his greed, like a reward for the discomfort that comes first. It gets easier as he finds a pace and the lube is a phenomenal help, the slide wet and relaxant. Up, down, up, down . . .
Gee is nodding, small bobbing motions of his head as if to say he understands. He leans his forehead against Frank’s and his hands feel damp soothingly rubbing Frank’s tailbone to bring him into total relaxation. They slide further down, cupping Frank’s ass, roughly pulling his cheeks apart to shift his hips and sink deeper into him, if it’s possible. Frank breathes out heavily at the fullness and Gee almost seems to be trying to imitate the way his lips part with a moan, eyebrows knitting.
“You doing okay?” He asks.
“Fucking perfect,” Frank moans out. “C’mon, fuck me. I’m not gonna break.”
Gee takes a slippery hold of Frank’s hips. He tilts Frank towards him, shaping the arch of his back until he’s in the exact form he wishes to see him in, and takes it upon himself to thrust in deep and hard, directly striking Frank’s prostate. It’s a solid hit that zaps through Frank’s body like lightning and he can’t help but cry out at the bright spark of pleasure ringing through his insides. He does it again, slow and deep, eyes dark and unyielding while he watches Frank’s face contort into one of pure pleasure. He can’t reel from it, he isn’t given the chance before Gee is reverently wrapping his arms around Frank’s waist and repeating that same motion in a series that gradually develops into rapid fire. Truly seizing the very definition of fucking like he’s its brazen inventor.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Frank moans, slamming his hands against the sofa behind Gee’s head. “Don’t— don’t fucking stop, god.”
“Not gonna stop,” Gee breathes, fingers digging bruising into the side of Frank’s ass. “Think you can come just from this? Without touching yourself?”
Frank ordinarily can’t, but with this pace and pressure, he has no issue or concern that he won’t be able to. All he can manage is a jerky nod, his mouth agape, legs trembling as he fights to keep up with the pace. His arms grow weak supporting himself, body overwhelmed. He can’t remember the last time he was fucked this good, or figure out if he ever has been.
Sensing his struggle, Gee stops, to Frank’s brief despair. He shushes him, kissing him sloppily and deeply on his mouth, stroking his hair.
“Lay back, baby. I’ve got you.”
Gee guides Frank onto his back on the sofa with a hand cupped around the back of his head and his arm slung around his waist. The leather sticks to his damp skin, cool then searing hot against it, but it feels like it adjusts around the shape of his body and embraces his back.
Frank gasps as his legs are spread apart and bent back towards his chest so his knees are practically plastered against it. The burn in his thighs strains along his muscles, but Frank only whimpers and holds himself open with sweaty hands, begging for Gee to enter him again. Gee is staring at his hole that’s obscenely exposed at this angle. He works his cheeks and spits on it, a lingering thin string glistening at Gee’s chin.
“There we go, deep breath,” Gee all but purrs. Frank does as he says. Gee pushes into Frank again in another smooth fast stroke, filling him instantly, making that bit of air fly out of Frank’s lungs in a harsh moan.
“Yes, fuck —” Frank is truly beside himself. His toes curl up so hard they nearly cramp when Gee resumes his ruthless pace, only this time, the view is sending Frank hurling towards the edge. Gee’s thick cock plunging into him and glossed over in lube, hips slamming against Frank’s with an impact making Frank’s softer inner thighs shudder, his own cock jerking with almost every strike against his prostate. It’s an obscenity that overrules any other kind he experiences with others. He could’ve been fucked by dozens and none of it would match this.
“God, fuck, no one’s ever fucked me like this,” Frank whimpers out. “So god damn good, Gee.”
“I don’t know how anyone could not. Wish I could do this all night, you have no idea how good you feel or how pretty you look getting fucked hard,” Gee gasps, fingernails raking up the back of Frank’s thigh. He encounters Frank’s hand frantically grasping it to keep his legs from faltering out of their hold and it’s an oddly breathless romantic piece of contact, their eyes meeting within it. Fingertips delicately graze knuckle with a secret wish for the tangle of fingers.
They never quite reach that point seeing as Frank’s orgasm swells rapidly. One moment, he’s gasping for breath and moaning loud enough for it to surely soak through the walls of the mansion, and the next, as Gee pounds into him determinedly, Frank’s eyes are rolling back into his skull. The mind-meltingly good pressure against his prostate pushes him over the edge.
The condom works at containing the mess, though Frank yearns for it in the midst of his writhing. He can’t gather much of what Gee is saying, but correctly assumes it’s soothing words of saccharine praise guiding him through the rapid fire of waves surging through Frank’s body. He’s left whimpering, cock weakly twitching as Gee continues with his hard thrusts, chasing after the cresting wave of his own orgasm.
Frank sways his hips back towards him, spent as he is, but desperate to see Gee lose it. “Take it off. Want you to come all over me.”
Gee’s expression of ecstasy falters with surprise. “Are— are you sure? I don’t know if that’s safe, Alex—”
“I hope you wouldn’t come here if you weren’t clean.”
“I am, I just got tested—”
“Then do it,” Frank urges, chest rising and falling rapidly. He keeps his voice just as unwavering as the rest of him so Gee knows he’s entirely made up his mind about it.
Gee’s conflicted torment ceases. He swears under his breath, pulling out abruptly. He all but tears off the condom and uses the residual lube to jerk himself, his hand a pale blur over his cock, until he’s groaning and hunching forward, painting Frank’s hips and thighs. Frank moans greedily at the warmth and the sight of it splattering across his skin. It’s a small victory— no, a huge one to have been the reason this beautiful person is dizzily curled forward as if the force of his orgasm knocked the very air out of him. Frank knows the feeling as if it were held like a mirror to his own.
“Holy fuck,” Frank says after a moment of them struggling to catch their breath.
Gee hums, a raspy sound of agreement.
“Where did you learn to use it like that?” he asks in a dazed voice.
“Use what?”
“Your dick .”
“Oh,” Gee chuckles, cheek pinkening. “You learn a couple tricks through the years . . .” He sounds distracted. Frank quickly discovers why after investigation.
He’s fixated on the mess strewn across Frank’s skin. Without warning, he licks his lips, hands spreading out and over Frank’s hips to smear it. Frank gasps, unsure if it’s with arousal or disgust, but the answer becomes definitive when Gee murmurs, “Wish I could make you lick it all off my fingers.”
Frank swallows hard. “Let me, c’mon—”
“Not tonight,” Gee shakes his head, instead bringing his own fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. Frank’s pupils dilate at the sight of Gee’s ruined red mouth getting stained with his own come, glistening in the low lighting as if he’d sucked Frank off and the remnants of his orgasm drip from his lips. Frank breathes in shakily. His dick is in for a true challenge with this singular person he in no way could have anticipated.
Frank blinks when Gee stands and steps away from the couch. “What are you doing?” He tries not to sound panicked.
Gee only shoots a tiny smile over his shoulder as he crosses the room. He approaches the round table near the bookshelves, attaining a pack of wipes from the silver platter laid out atop of it and a folded towel. He returns and sits, gently helping Frank sit up with his unsullied hand before he begins wiping down the mess.
“If you think I’m good at fucking, just wait until you see how great I am at aftercare.”
He doesn’t say it for the sake of appearances; he cleans Frank up with a careful hand, helping him redress, even going as far as lighting a cigarette and positioning it between his lips for him once he has him comfortably wrapped in a blanket on the sofa. He steals a puff first, bringing his lips to Frank’s to exhale the smoke into his mouth before sealing their lips together in a soft kiss. Frank’s eyes flutter shut and he hums as he kisses back, lips staying puckered even after Gee pulls back.
“Do you trust I’ll come back for you?” Gee asks in a half meaningful, half teasing tone, bent over Frank and twisting a strand of his hair that curled up in a near coil now that his sweat has dried.
“Only if you trust I’ll hunt you down for breaking my back with your cock like that and abandoning me.” Frank arches a single brow that makes Gee burst into a fit of peculiar giggles.
“I’m so scared.” Gee stands upright with a smirk, dress straps askew and his panties balled up in his hand. He shoves them into Frank’s hand, securing it in a tight fist. “There. Can’t leave without those, can I?”
Frank stares at his terrifically lucky hand, speechless, and grieves the fact he misses out on the sight of Gee’s ass as he retreats and softly closes the door behind him.
—
Gee returns with four slices of pizza, bottled water, and two impressively large cupcakes. He claims it’s the best he could scrape up in between all of the comically luxurious platters of food he couldn’t recognize spread out on the lavish dining table. He also arrives back with red cheeks and news of another burst of energy surging through the crowd reaching for each other again in an act of pure desperation.
“Didn’t you wanna join them? You missed it the first time.” Frank gratefully grabs his plate, tongue parched and stomach rumbling.
Gee shrugs, sinking down on the sofa beside Frank with his legs folded underneath him. “I’d rather be here with you. The view’s a lot prettier.”
Frank’s stomach feels strange and warm at that. He hides the gratified smile that softly unfolds over his lips by taking a bite of pizza. He savors the taste even though it’s grown a bit cold from sitting out.
“You’ve, um . . . you said you’ve been here before a couple times, right?” Frank remembers and can’t contain his own curiosity.
“Mhm. Why?” Gerard tips his head to the side in question.
“What do you like about it? It doesn’t get old?”
Gerard rolls his lips into his mouth. He lowers his plate in thought, his mouth gradually folding into a honeyed smile. “Well, a big reason is one I already told you. I like to be watched. To me it’s kind of like— I’m not sure if you’ve ever been on a stage before, but in case you have, then you’d know it can be addictive being the center of everyone’s attention, that every move you make is noted.”
“Is that why you dress up? You’re putting on a show?”
“Exactly. I’ve always known I was made for performance of some kind. Sex is another performance, a chance to show off my talents.” Gee smooths out the edge of his slip dress. A tiny smug chuckle filters out from his nose. “It doesn’t hurt that I get to watch everyone else do the same here. Sometimes it pays off just sitting back and letting them take center stage sometimes. I’m not always up for hogging the spotlight the whole time as much as I love it.”
Apart from the charm and appeal his words possess, Frank feels a sprout of doubt emerging at the back of his mind. He resents feeling insecure and does everything to fight it, refusing to feel small. In the case Gee sought out more than company from Frank for the sake of absorbing all of his awe to boost his own ego, he lets the subject rest for a beat of a moment before putting his own doubts to the test.
“You think we put on a good show tonight?” Frank asks casually and lightly to bury any chance Gee can see through him and get why he’s asking. He would get a disingenuous answer and one thing Frank can’t tolerate from anyone is being lied to.
Gee cocks his head slightly. His eyes land on Frank, but not thoughtfully. There’s an almost tender way to it that makes Frank want to squirm and retract his question, but he boldly stands behind it.
“That wasn’t all a performance,” Gee admits softly.
Frank’s mind flickers all the possible meanings behind that. When it beams a light on the conclusion that it had been something far more real to Gee, he fights not to cast aside everything between them and slide into his lap again to breathlessly tangle him into another kiss. He restrains himself, but only barely. He picks up his food and takes a bite before he has a chance at betraying his own self-control.
“How old are you now?” Gee asks out of curiosity after a moment of eating in comfortable silence.
Frank snorts. “A little late for that question, don’t you think?”
Gee’s leg shoots out, bare toes poking hard at Frank’s calf. Frank giggles and pulls his leg away.
“Uh, twenty-seven. That’s kind of the whole reason why I’m here. I didn’t want to feel like my twenties were passing me by without making the most of them, so I looked for the craziest thing I could find.”
Gee’s eyebrows spring up. “Most people would go clubbing. Or take a spiritual month-long climb up a ginormous mountain.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“That’s what I would do if I wasn’t a slut.”
Frank nearly chokes on his laughter and the bite of pizza sliding down his throat. He swallows safely, grinning. “You do get it then. That’s why neither you or me are in a club or on top of fucking Mount Everest.”
Gee giggles and his eyes go warm. He takes a swig of water before speaking. “You know, people talk a lot about wasting your twenties. I don’t think anything you choose to do with your time is a waste as long as you’re happy.”
“I don’t really know if I’m unhappy or happy. Kind of an in-between with really great moments that keep me going,” Frank says thoughtfully, picking at his food. “I mean, I’m also not exactly where I always wanted to be, but it’s enough to get me by. It’s only— I don’t want to just get by forever. I feel like I’m looking for something. I don’t know where to find it.”
He should put the cap on his faucet of a mouth, but being vulnerable with a stranger is somehow the easiest thing he’s ever done. Not any stranger— this stranger, an enigmatic beauty with a filthy mouth and a gentle gaze that sweeps over Frank with a real interest no one has assessed him with in months, maybe years, maybe never.
Gee is quiet. Frank allows the silence to build, understanding it might be uncomfortable for Gee to absorb his intimate thoughts now that they’re barely still in the afterglow. He swallows thinking their moment may be done, that the fleeting nature of this encounter may be more rapid-paced than he initially worried it might be.
His thoughts flurry away like a passing icy breeze braided in snowflakes. Gee is swinging his legs up and stretching them over Frank’s lap, getting comfortable against a mound of pillows at his back. His smile comes slow and satisfied like a content house cat, especially when Frank’s hand instinctively comes to rest on his bare knee.
“As a peaceful thirty-one year old, I advise you not to get caught up in worrying about it too much. I mean, I never thought I’d end up . . . singing in lounges and making a name for myself by it. It just fell into my lap and I think that’s because I wasn’t actively looking for it.”
Frank strokes patterns along Gee’s knee. “You’re a singer?”
“A damn good one.”
Frank chuckles. He believes that.
“Anyway, the point is. You don’t find the thing, the thing finds you,” Gee says musingly. “God knows what it may be. I’m just as clueless as you most of the time. But I know what I was looking for tonight though. Looks like I found it.” He smiles soft and sincere until it curls up in Frank’s chest like a silk scarf and wraps its ties around the strings, eliciting a subtle content shiver from it.
“Yeah,” Frank agrees with a smile, trying and failing to ignore the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. “Me too.”
Gee watches him as if he’s considering something. Then he scoots closer, so much he’s practically sitting on Frank’s lap. He cups a hand around his jaw and brings him into a kiss. This one is softer than all the ones before. Slow and deep, a gradual tangle of tongues, a liquor-smooth dance of lips.
Frank wraps his arms around Gee’s waist, pulls him entirely into his lap, and kisses him until his mouth is numb from it and he feels his heart is hammering at the same pace as his own.
This is an infinitely better accomplishment than climbing to the top of Mount Everest.
—
Gerard has a crick in his neck when he opens his eyes next. He winces, lifting his head and rolling it towards the pain, shivering at the cracking sound it makes, but fuck him, it works wonders.
The pillow he’d wedged underneath his head has slipped out and fallen to the ground, leaving him to the useless support of the armrest. What use do silk pillows have anyway when the fabric is so slippery they can’t even sustain a person’s head position through the night? He grumbles, almost turning to his side, until he remembers.
The sleeping body curled up against his shoulder is undelicately snoring. His limp curls are like the silk cases on the pillows Gerard had just been cursing, lips pink and pouted, but only because he’s drooling. All over Gerard’s bare shoulder, he should note, but it hardly grosses him out when the vision overtakes the negative factors. It’s terrifying and unfair that anyone should be so beautiful, cheeks done with a rosy flush from sleep and lashes fanning out under eyelids twitching from dreams, but Gerard has done anything but cower away from it.
He’d been mesmerized ever since he saw Alex. Stretched out like a nude painting in a shameless but not quite ostentatious display with sleep clinging to the relaxed positioning of his limbs. Tattoos on soft skin, lips red and kissed, brown hair hanging in sweeping small waves around his smooth jaw. A plume of smoke treated him well when it filtered over the image of him like paint strokes and for a second, Gee stopped breathing entirely wondering if he was hallucinating, but it turned out he was just lucky enough to find the kind of beauty people rave about in lyrics and anything romantic.
He wasn’t oblivious to his own looks, he made that clear through the night, but Gerard has to wonder if he realizes just how powerful they are if it was enough to persuade Gerard to hole up in this room with him for the entire night instead of engaging in what he’d truly come here for. He didn’t even mind the chance he wouldn’t be getting laid, a true miracle for him. He imagines anybody else would’ve done the same, but he also likes to think Alex wouldn’t choose just anyone. That Gerard was special, chosen.
Alex isn’t his real name. Gerard knew, the rules at these parties have stuck in his brain, but still took the risk and gave out his nickname just so he would have an idea what at least part of the real thing would sound like coming from those lips. Lips Gerard had around his dick, fucking christ. Alex had been just as much of a good fuck as he’d been good company, it went beyond the chance Gerard would ever forget it. It says a lot; Gerard . . . gets around a bit.
A bit might be a small understatement.
It had been more than sex. More than Gerard setting the scene and the script with his little white lies because there was no controlling Alex in any way he didn’t ask to be controlled. They’d established a connection and that’s always shamefully difficult for Gerard in the aftermath. He doesn’t find politeness or grace in fucking and running, he hates the thought of not at least trying to make small talk in the morning, but it always winds up being an awkward ordeal because he’s no longer in character.
With Alex, the conversation never faltered, and in the small moments in-between, it had been comfortable. The kind he could peacefully rest in without being judged for soaking in its necessity or worrying if it’s clear he’s easily burnt out from social consistency as much as he enjoys it before the tiredness, before the real version of him comes out.
He’s thinking of leaning in and kissing Alex to wakefulness, maybe holding the smallest hope he can steal at least another hour with him, before a sudden touch of reality crashes through his daydreaming like a gallon of ice water.
Gerard frantically feels around for his phone. When he unlocks it to check the time, it takes every bit of his restraint not to girlishly scream. Oh, Mikey is going to positively murder him if he misses his rehearsal dinner. He’s already put off traveling for a couple of days due to sheer laziness. He swears under his breath, eyes wheeling around and landing on Alex who is comfortably slumbering partially on top of him. Gerard winces, praying to god he won’t startle him awake as he starts to shuffle out from underneath him.
He overestimates the depth of the couch and once part of his ass is hanging off the seat, the rest of him tilts and he dumps ungracefully onto the floor. He groans, then goes deathly still, waiting for the snoring pattern to break. He hears a soft sleepy sound, the rustle of movement, and to his luck, the snoring continues.
Gerard springs up once he’s breathing again and scrambles to put on his coat, doing up the ties and only feeling a little self-conscious about it now that the light brings some clarity. He pouts— it is not a pimp coat.
Fuck, he’s going to be so late. If he misses his flight, the chances of it being rescheduled at a decent time are harrowingly slight and Gerard would rather hurl himself out one of these posh mansion windows before he’s miserably slumped over in an airport cafe flicking through frivolous gossip magazines. He’s been there before, it does nothing but shoot his nerves that are already ground down to powder by the mere thought of being catapulted into the air by a hunk of metal and an engine that has a chance of failing at any moment.
Gerard grabs his things, about to sprint out the door, but he allows himself to linger back for three solid seconds. He sighs in deep disappointment— he doesn’t have the time to find a pen somewhere and leave his number, let alone find something to write it on. He glances at Alex who has substituted Gerard with a pillow, this time curling his arms around it with a faint smile on his face. Gerard wistfully takes a mental picture of that beautiful face he’ll never see the entirety of, the perfect way his hip curves, the slight tan on his tattooed forearms like he drives a lot and doesn’t bother to pull down his sleeves.
He leans down, pressing a soft parting kiss to Frank’s cheek just underneath his mask, and swallowing down the regret as he takes off running.
There’s people sleeping downstairs and others awake indulging in the breakfast bar laid out. Brian, the house’s owner and Gerard’s friend, waves enthusiastically at Gerard. “I’d recognize those legs anywhere! What’s your rush, peach, don’t you want to eat something before you twist your ankle running in those heels?”
“Sorry, gotta go, gonna miss my flight!” Gerard yells out in a single breath, not even sure if it’s intelligible. His mask that he’d taken the time to customize by hand, hanging by a mere thread, finally comes loose and slides to the floor like a wilted flower petal. Gerard dismisses it with an exasperated huff, scuttering out the door and not glancing back even as Brian calls after him again.
Gerard digs through his luggage stuffed in the trunk for a change of clothes, which he struggles to put on in the car, praying he isn’t so disheveled that it’s obvious what obscenities have gone on in the night. He checks his mirrors once, gasping for air, and pulls out of the driveway to head towards the freeway.
“Goodbye possible love of my life,” Gerard cries out to the rearview mirror. He lets out a tiny dry sob, because truly, fuck his life, and carries a grimace with him all the way to the flight gate.
—
Frank’s eyes crack open in the smallest slit. The room is bathed in darkness and red light still, though it isn’t quite as intense as it had been before he drifted off. He shuts his eyes again, intent on falling back asleep, but then his cheek rubs against something smooth and warm.
Recollection hits like a train and a smile of bliss curls the corners of his mouth. Gee’s silk slip dress under his cheek feels buttery smooth and it’s all Frank can do not to nuzzle his entire face into it. Eventually, he gives into temptation with a soft exhale and turns his head, nose tracing along the silk fabric and the body underneath it that feels . . . much softer than the night before, unless it’s always been this way. He even smells a bit lemony now.
Maybe it’s the morning-after euphoria or the fact that Frank is half asleep, but he finds himself grazing his lips upon the fabric, a slow back-and-forth motion. He kisses, leaving a trail up what he now assumes must be Gee’s torso, shifting further up . . .
Until he cracks his eyes fully open and realizes he’s making out with a pillow.
Frank squeaks, throwing it out from underneath him and flinging it across the room. He sits up abruptly, his arms empty and cold, eyes wheeling around. Gee seems to have vanished from the couch without him noticing. His tendency to sleep like the dead must’ve been used against him so Gee could safely wriggle out from underneath him to make his escape.
Frank swallows thickly, a twinge of rejection tasting bitter at the back of his throat. Maybe Gee escaped to grab food downstairs again, or to ask permission to hit the shower. There’s endless possibilities, yet Frank refuses to cling and go searching for him. Talk about desperate. If Frank is praying for a real shot with this person, the best thing to do is not suffocate him mere hours after the first hook-up.
Unless the morning brought clarity, which led to regret, and worse, to Gee sneaking out of the house, leaving Frank to find his absence with no explanation.
Frank doesn’t want to catastrophize. So he sits back with artificial patience to smooth down his internal panic, searching for his shirt to shrug it back over him when the morning chill makes goosebumps rise over his skin. He curls up on the sofa and watches the door like a puppy awaiting the return of their owner.
An hour passes with no signs of life aside from slamming doors and excited chatter outside. It seems like every door is being pried open aside from Frank’s. When the time on Frank’s phone hits eleven o’clock exactly, he feels his hope wither away in his chest, and the rejection flies in with full force.
He was under the impression the two of them made a connection. They spent hours lost in conversation last night, hours meaningless in comparison to the intimacy of small then huge conversation as they stayed physically connected in any way they could find an excuse for— brushing hair away from foreheads, asking about ring sizes to touch hands, Frank shifting his leg that had been ‘falling asleep’ and pressing it right up against Gee’s. He can’t help but question if it had all been to indulge some invisible plea in his eye to not be abandoned so quickly.
Or worst of all, Gee grew bored in the sobering chill of the morning and couldn’t be bothered resuming when all the fun had been had.
Frank searches the room in case Gee left anything behind in the possible case he unwillingly fled with someplace to be. He comes up with nothing but the empty Starbucks cup on the side table. No scraps of paper with a number, or notes of any kind.
He’s gone.
Frank’s lower lip feels permanently pushed out when he admits defeat. He slumps out of the room, shuffling miserably down the stairs to the bustling first floor, not looking up even when he’s recognized.
Near the entrance, his foot nearly catches on something dumped on the ground. He looks down, car keys in hand as he expects to dismiss this entirely, but he goes still with his hand tightening around his keys.
Frank slowly bends to retrieve it. He strokes the black lacy fabric, unfolding it in his hand so it’s spread out over his palm. He instantly finds them; the tiny red roses embroidered into the fabric, standing out against stark black with a recognizable quality. Unmistakably his, the one that got away. It’s impossible to tell if the token was his to find or if it had been purely accidental, but regardless, Frank treats it like an incident spawned by fate somehow as an apology for the sinking feeling in his gut.
He sighs sadly, gingerly folding and pocketing Gee’s mask, and walks out the door of the house he finally decides he won’t be returning to.