Should the World Fail To Fall Apart

Title: Should the World Fail To Fall Apart
Author: chemical_muse
Pairing: Gerard Way/Mikey Way
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Moonlight sonata.
Warnings: WAYCEST. Don't like it, don't read it.
Author's Notes: Gerard's POV again.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.


There's something about the night that's so soothing. Especially when you're all alone with the person you love most in the world. It's almost like you can blend into the quiet, become one with it. I don't get that feeling often, and when I find it I want to hold onto it with both hands, as long as I can.

Of course, the fact that my little brother is naked in my arms and I've just thoroughly fucked him up the ass is kind of destroying that illusion of peace.

Mikey leans back against me, turning his head and nuzzling his face into my neck. God, that does things to me. Just feeling him move against me is making my thoughts go somewhere they shouldn't. Didn't I read somewhere that as guys get older, their libidos slow down? Not true in my case. Christ, I'll get hard again if he keeps wriggling in front of me, pushing that gorgeous ass back against my crotch.

He finally seems to get comfortable and stops moving, one leg stretched out in front of him, one pulled up and his hands clasped around his knee. God, if he knew how sexy he looks in that position. But Mikey never has a clue how sexy he is, how much he turns me on with every little thing he does. If I told him, he'd just blush and be embarrassed.

I don't want to say anything. The silence between us isn't awkward, it's just .... peaceful. His free hand is linked with mine, our fingers intertwined. I look down at them, and I can't help thinking how they look right together.

Everything about us feels right. There's no way it can be wrong. It's society that's wrong, it's the people who don't understand what we are to each other who're wrong. This can't be wrong. Not this pure kind of love, this simple understand between two people that's so perfect it feels like I can communicate with Mikey with no words, just a touch and a look. That can't be wrong. It's wrong to say that kind of connection shouldn't be.

Why the fuck should I care what people think? Why can't I just break with convention, stand up to people and tell them what Mikey means to me? I don't care if he's my brother. I love him, and I'm in love with him. That should be the only thing to matter.

But it's not. There's so much more we have to think of. The band. Our careers. Our recording contract. Our fans, who'd be shocked to think I was fucking my baby brother. And last but not least, our parents. Our friends, the ones who don't already know.

I don't even want to imagine what people would think. It'd all be gone. Everything we've worked so hard for. It'd be like throwing the last four years of our lives away if we were honest about what we are to each other.

I don't care so much for me. I could always do something else. I've got my art, even though my reputation would be so black after those kinds of revelations that I'd probably have to beg anybody to give me a showing or pay for my work. But that's not important. I don't need the success. All I need is that creative outlet. Just being able to do it is good enough for me.

No, I care for Mikey. Because being a musician is all he's ever wanted to do with his life, ever since he was a little kid. Losing this would destroy a dream he's had for so damn long. I couldn't do that to him. I can't kill his dream, not even to be open and honest with the rest of the world about how much he means to me.

Even when he was working at Barnes & Noble, he'd always come home and put on music as soon as he got into his room. It's always been the focus of his life. He'd be a different person without that. He wouldn't be my Mikey at all any more.

Or would he? Would he change that much if we didn't have all this? Would I change? Or would I somehow subtly resent him, end up hating him because of what I'd given up?

I don't even want to think about that. I want to say that I'd never change, that my feelings for Mikey would never be any different no matter what. But I can't say that, because I don't know. I've never been in that postion, so I can't have any fucking clue what I'd do or how I'd feel. And I hope I'm never put in that position -- because I don't want to know how I'd react.

Mikey squirms in front of me again, bringing me away from my thoughts and back into the here and now. I can't help the thoughts racing through my head ... after all, this is a pretty romantic setting, and we're all alone.

I can't keep my hands off him. And his squirming around and getting me harder than Mount Everest isn't helping, either. He might already be sore from getting fucked tonight, but if he keeps it up, I'll have to be carrying him back to the bus because he won't be able to walk. Holy shit, does he know what he's doing to me when he moves like that?!

Fuck. This isn't about me and getting off. It's about being with Mikey, reassuring him and calming his fears. Quelling any doubts that he might have about him and me -- because if he's got those doubts, then it's harder for me not to have them. As long as I can keep him from doubting that we're right, that we're meant to be, then I can push those doubts away from my own mind. I can be as innocent and as trusting as he is -- as long as he trusts me.

I move one hand up Mikey's chest, circling one rosy nipple with my thumb. Damn, his nipples are already hard. It's not a cold night, there's just a little bit of a breeze but it's warm. It's not the air -- he's already turned on from all this. Mikey's never been the exhibitionistic type like I am, so it's probably a serious aphrodisiac for him to be naked in a semi-public place like this.

My other hand moves down between his legs, my fingers curling around his cock, thumb pressing against the sensitive tip. Mikey moans, his head falling back against my shoulder. His face when I look down at him is the perfect picture of surprised innocence -- well, I guess he didn' t expect me to touch him like this. But what can he expect, when he's so damn irresistible?

My eyes meet his, but I don't say anything. I just rub the pad of my thumb over his nipple, feeling the little bud stiffen under my touch. Then over to the other nipple, repeating the process. Damn, they're already hard pebbles and I've barely started touching him.

He's already moaning, making those soft little sounds that I love to hear. Nothing sounds sexier than Mikey when he's aroused and whimpering my name. Well .... okay, maybe when I'm inside him and he's moaning my name.

"You like this, Mikey?" I can't resist teasing him a little with my words. Of course I know he likes this. So do I. Touching him is like .... like touching the sky. Clouds. Sometimes when I touch him, I'm almost afraid he'll melt away, his skin is so soft.

"Y-yes ...." I love the way his voice sounds, a little unsteady, strained, trembling. The words falling from his lips like leaves falling off tree branches, making almost no sound as they hang in the still air. He pushes his hips up against my hand; I can tell he wants more. I move my hand leisurely down his shaft, then back up, flicking my thumb against the tip again.

"Gerard .... please ...." His voice is more desperate now, almost pleading.

I dig my thumbnail into the slit at the tip of his cock, my senses on fire from hearing his moan and feeling his thin body arch upwards helplessly. Instantly I feel ashamed, my face almost flushing with the enormity of my guilt. I don't want to hurt him. I don't know why I do things like that, without even thinking about it.

But at the same time, it's so fucking arousing. Knowing that I have my little brother literally in the palm of my hand, that I could do anything to him and he wouldn't stop me. That he'd beg for it. That he wants my touch so badly, craves it to the point where he'd let me do anything to him.

Maybe that's the "wrong" part of our relationship. That we're both so fucking addicted to each other, we couldn't stop it we wanted to.

Fuck it. I'm not going to think about it now. Not with Mikey pushing his hips against my hand, his cock so hard it feels like I have my fingers wrapped around a steel bar, his soft moans filling the air around us. And my own whimpers that I can't hold back. My obvious arousal at seeing him like this, completely abandoned to what I'm doing to him.

The hand not occupied with his cock his busy at his tender nipples, tweaking first one hardened bud, then the other. I don't think I ever appreciated how sensitive a guy's nipples were until I was with Mikey. I've made him come before just by sucking at his nipples, nibbling them, tonguing them. But then, his entire body is extraordinarily sensitive. It's like he's a violin, a Stradivarius, a rare musical instrument that only springs to life under my hands.

One more stroke down and back up, thumbing the tip of his dick again -- and that does it. With a cry, my name falling into the darkness like a summer shower of softly breathed syllables, Mikey comes into my hand, his body jerking, tensing and relaxing as his muscles contract. I let him lean back against me, one arm curling around his waist, the other brushing his damp hair back from his forehead.

I press a soft kiss against his hot cheek, marveling as always at the softness of his skin. How can a guy's skin be so damn silky? I swear, Mikey was meant to be a girl. I can't help smirking to myself at the thought. Most people would say that he is.

We still haven't talked yet, but I don't really feel like we need to. After his second orgasm of the night, Mikey's probably too damn tired to really register anything we'd say, anyway. I just want to sit here for a while, cradling him in my arms and enjoying the feel of being completely alone and free, the darkness closing in around us, cocooning us. It's like we're in our own private world, like nothing exists in this moment but the two of us. The rest of the world seems very far away.

He turns his head to look up at me, smiling at me again. My breath catches in my throat, and I can't look away.

How can one smile so completely and utterly capture my senses? How can anybody be so damn perfect that it makes my heart ache just to look at him?

How can I be so much in love, and still have the doubts that I do?

I don't say anything. I can't. All I can do is kiss him, and rest my cheek against his, both of us looking out at the calm surface of the lake, the moonlight glinting off the water. I can't help wondering if calmness isn't a metaphor for us, for our relationship. Calm on the outside, but with all these emotions roiling just underneath the surface, waiting to break free. It's only a matter of time before they do.

But right now, that doesn't matter. I'm here, with Mikey in my arms. The future can be pushed away, it can wait until tomorrow. Because all that matters is the here and now, and what I feel in this moment. It might not last for long, but I'm going to hang onto it with all my strength.

I don't know what I'll do if it somehow slips away from me.

Because I know that I can't let it go without breaking into a million pieces that can't ever be put back together again.