Learning to Communicate

[A/N: Thank you again for all of your support for this fic. My apologies on the slow updates.
Finally, what you have all waited for. I hope you enjoy. As always, reviews are love.]

Ch. 6 - A Definition of Needy

"Gerard?"

"Later!" I called, by passing my boss in a hurry. No weekend work. No way. Not this weekend. No. All I wanted to do was get home to Frankie. I shoved my stuff into the car and grabbed my keys from my pocket, jamming them into the ignition. I peeled out into the Friday afternoon traffic, still optimistic. I cruised through it easily, not even flicking off anyone for a change.

I stumbled out of the car in a hurry, leaving my breifcase in the backseat and my jacket crumpled up in the passenger side. I ran around the corner, dodging a skateboard. I was panting slightly. Here was my door. I stood there, running my fingers through my hair again and again. I fixed my tie, and straightened all of my clothes twice. It's amazing how all day I think about him. I get anxious waiting to come home to something other than my loneliness. Yet when I get there, I act as cool as ever, like he was still nothing more than a passing thought. I fumbled for my keys and jammed them in the door.

It swung open. And all the cool collective goes out of my system just as quickly.

"Hey."

He was standing there like always, smiling. I smiled back. We stood there like idiots like everyday until he finally takes me by the wrist and drags me inside my own apartment, me kicking the door shut. We sit on the couch and he lays his head in my lap like everyday. I tell him everything I did. He nods a lot, though he understands nothing of what I'm saying. I've grown accostumed to threading my fingers through his hair. Today is no different, except for the plate of cookies and the glass of cold coffee (he hasn't really grasped the concept that I only drink it when it's hot and hasn't sat in the pot all day).

"How was your day?" I said. He only smiled, flicking his ears. "That good, huh?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Catch anything worth while on TV?" I grabbed the television guide, glancing over it. He handed me the remote, and I flipped it on. At least reruns were always on right before primetime. He settled into me again and there we stayed until dinner. He didn't eat much really, jusy kind of picked at it. I looked over. "What's wrong? Is it your food?" I asked. He didn't look at me. "What's the matter?" I leaned closer. He gave me one of the looks I was getting used to by now. Something between shyness and seduction. I assure you, he was not very good at the latter.

Despite the openess I tried to give to him now, I still managed to keep his attempts at bay. Frank's, er, romantic stylings were a class of their own, to be sure. In the time he had started his full swing rush of hormones, he had moaned, groaned, and cried himself around most of the apartment. He was always shoving himself against things and rubbing, or touching himself with or without me around. Then, he had started his more direct approach. Kissing the back of my neck while I was on the computer. Pulling my arms around himself. And my favourite by far, waiting outside of my shower after hiding my towel. I could never stay very mad though. He thought he was positively sneaky, and his face showed it. He was always looked like he was being clever, smiling and making little pouty faces. Sometimes I wondered if he watched women's television shows during the day.

I only smirked and turned back to the TV. "Frank, I know what you're doing. I know I might just seem like a stupid human to you, but believe me, I do know. I also know I've been gay before you even realized you had a dick. So whatever you're planning in that little brain of yours, you better just stop." He was leaning on me by the time I finished talking. I allowed it, nudging him with my elbow. He squealed. "Loudmouth...."

After dinner, Frank dissapeared. I washed the dishes and went out to check the mail. When I came back, I fished my stuff from work out of the car at last and locked up for bed. We were supposed to go see Mikey and Anna tomorrow. Anna was due in the next two weeks. We had spend almost every spare moment running about, fixing the room that was to be the nursery. Mikey and I had spend the better part of an afternoon putting together a crib. He explained to me that babies couldn't sleep in one for awhile though. They had to sleep in small baskets in their parents' rooms. He had gone out to find another screwdriver. I remember running my fingers over the box. There was a couple gazing down at their baby in the crib. I used to think that was what I really wanted, just like Mikey. Something normal and All-American, so to speak. I had looked over at Frank sleeping in the corner. He was curled around a stuffed bear. Frank didn't fit into the picture on the box. But he seemed to fit me fairly well. He was not going anywhere when it came to me.

I finally shuffled into my bedroom. There were a few scratching noises coming from Frankie's den. Must have been hiding away. I ambled into the bathroom and ran a comb through my hair a few times, washing my face and scrubbing my teeth a few dozen times. I honestly did not have great personal hygenine. Lately, it had been improving. Frank actually used a toothbrush. I had never even known. Except he had been using mine. I bought him his own. I looked at it while I was standing there, the two of them together in a holder. His was blue. Mine was red. In the shower, my shampoo sat next to the wash I had gotten for him. And two towels hung on the rack instead of one. All around my apartment, signs of another life had come to my attention.

I crashed into the bed. I left Frankie where he was, knowing more than likely he would make an appearance sooner or later. I switched off my lamp, letting streetlight filter into my blinds and wash out my bedroom in sick yellow light.

As suspected, Frankie crawled out of his den. I watched, my cheek pressed into the pillow. He crawled into his side of the bed. "Hi," I said. He only shifted around. I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming. I felt him cuddle into my back. I had stopped fighting it. My guilt had ended after a few weeks of this. No one had to know what I did. So I felt no guilt letting him come so close, touch me, play with my hair at night. His fingers would crawl down my spine and poke my sides. If he knew I wasn't sleeping, he would run his fingers just under the hem of my shirt and try to tickle me. I couldn't help giggling, even if I didn't want to at all.

I rolled over. He moved, surprised. "What do you want?" I whispered. I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair. He tilted his head into my hand, closing his eyes. My fingers hit one of his ears. He moved it. I gingerly ran my fingers against it. I tried to avoid touching his...weird parts. It made me uncomfortable. Fur just shouldn't be on a human. They were soft. His ears. I kind of smiled. He flicked them a few times, and I wondered if I was just irratating them. I stopped. He growled. I started again. He moved his body closer, and I felt my ears turn a light shade of red in the darkness. Sometimes, I thought maybe this was my fault. In a way, I led him on sometimes. I would scoot closer before scooting away, or maybe I would smile before telling him to stop. I was a regular chick when it came to mixed signals. Maybe that was driving Frank crazy.

For awhile, he lay still and I continued running my hand through his hair. I thought maybe he had fallen asleep, but he stirred again, moving closer. He lifted his face out of my shoulder and his lips found mine. I was so surprised I hadn't moved, not that it hadn't happened so quickly. I started to say something, to move away, but his hands came up and placed themselves on my face, his body leaning over mine. His eyes were closed tightly. I felt my heart banging away at my ribs like it could escape the cage of bone it was in. His own was pounding right against my chest, and I could hear him trying to breath through his nose with his lips so fiercely crushed against mine. "Frankie," I managed to mumble. He didn't move though, and he didn't let me go. "Frankie, stop." He only moved closer, pushing my back into the mattress. I didn't know what to think. Finally, I pushed my hands between us and pushed against his chest. He struggled, trying to keep me where I was. "Frank!"

He whined, coming off at last. He was sitting next to me, his desperation dragging him half ontop of me. I sat up on my elbows, taking a giant breath and staring at him. He looked wild, his eyes wide and his shoulders moving with his heavy breathing. "Godamnit...fuckin' crazy ass...fucker," I spat out. My vocabulary was failing me. He reached out. I knocked both of his hands away and sat up, lunging for him. We both toppled over towards the foot of the bed. "Stop it!" I exclaimed. "You can't do that!" He craned his neck up again, trying to kiss me. He didn't get it. He thought I was just playing back now. He grinned crazily from underneath me. I sighed and let him up. "You don't know what you're doing. You probably don't even know what you want, do you?" I asked, feeling my voice hitch as I spoke. I didn't bother to knock him away as he came over again and put his arms around me, nuzzling his face into my shoulder. I sighed, letting my eyes wander towards the ceiling. "Frankie," I mumbled. He leaned in, trying to listen to me. His lips roamed over my neck and I felt flushed. I...I...I couldn't help it.

Before I could stop myself, I turned my body in his arms and caught his face in my hands. "You don't know what you're doing," I murmured, my lips touching his. I pressed them against mine, and ran my thumb along his jawline. He sat instantly still, his arms slipping off my waist. I think I surprised him for a change. I pulled his chin down gently with my thumb, and his lips parted for mine. I tilted his head with my hands, and let my tongue run out to touch against the tip of his. He let me continue, and we sat in the silence. I listened to the soft sound my mouth was making against his, and waited. Finally, I got what I was waiting for. His fingers brushed against my cheek, one hand and then the other. They mirrored my own, mapping out the curves of my face while his eyes remained closed, those eyelashes sitting like fine threads on his cheeks. His tongue moved at last, carefully brushing against mine. So very, very long ago I had done this with another boy, sitting in Frank's position and having my first french kiss. I had always thought something was wrong with me until I discovered other people out in the world. Other homosexuals. And even though I had sex with women sometimes, I had never considered myself straight. My thoughts scattered as Frankie put his body against mine. He was shivering. It wasn't cold. He was just frustated.

"Shhh," I whispered against his lips. He wasn't talking. I just didn't know what else to say. I let my hands run over his shoulders. He was so thin. He was. Beautiful. It occured to me that I thought he was beautiful. I had always thought so, even when he was nothing more than a hopeful face pressed against cagebars, chewing his nails. God. Was this wrong or what? I wondered how dirty I would feel in the morning. I pulled him into my lap and my hands stayed there on his narrow hips. My thumbs ran back and forth, touching his skin under his shirt. He whimpered. "That bad, huh?" I asked him. My hands sank down. I sucked in a breath of air at the same time as he did. Yeah, it was that bad. I found my hand pressed between his thighs. It was hot, and he moved himself against my palm. I clenched my eyes shut.

Somewhere between being so lonely and living so much on your own, you learned a whole new definition of needy. Desperation became something so familiar, you let it take a place in your body to stay permanately.

I let him push my back against the mattress again. Everything was going so fast, it felt like slow motion. I let my eyes close as I felt his knee slid against my own erection. I had never even felt it happening. I clutched his shoulders, and his teeth found my neck. I hissed, and he growled. His hands slid under my shirt, crawling up my chest. I sucked in my stomach instictively. His curiousity flowed through his hands as they moved over me, touching, his fingers streching out flat against the surface of my skin. My breathing had grown heavy and laboured, matching his perfectly. I couldn't.....

I could apparently. I flung off my shirt, practically tearing it off. Watching me, Frank did the same, even throwing it to the same spot on the floor. Stop. I did the same, pushing him off me, with my pants. And he copied. I froze just a bit, seeing him sitting there naked. Stop. His body was small, but not where it counted. I ran my eyes over him, lingering on his shaft. Stop. I felt too excited to stop. I hadn't had sexual contact in a long time. And Frank? Well, Frank looked like he would explode if he got nothing from all of this. He pounced on me. I guess I was taking too long. His teeth found my shoulder and dug in, and his hands pushing me down. I crashed into the headboard and yelled. He growled, his body forcing mine down. I was completely shocked by how aggressive he had suddenly turned. For such a small guy, he had a positive death grip on me by now, his teeth baring down on my shoulderblade again and again.

"Frankie," I gasped, my voice broken up. He only answered in a moan. My body burst into goosebumps. It was the creepiest sound I had ever heard. Somewhere I had read that foxes sounded like babies crying. It was highly eerie, and he wouldn't stop now. I ignored it. The thin walls of my room pushed our sounds back to us, and I wondered if anyone could hear. My shoulder had gone numb. His hands were crushing my hipbones. I moved, trying to at least get up to my knees. I managed to push up under him and I felt him press against my backside. I groaned. So much blood had run down past my waist it was a wonder there was any left for cognitive thought. One of his hands came around, touching me roughly. I cried out, shoving my face into the pillow. He didn't know what he was doing, but he continued, his fingers stroking me oddly for such a thing. It felt good to me though, no matter how strange the motion was. His hips moved. He tore his mouth from me and I felt him slither down across my back. I didn't move, blinking stupidly into the dark. I waited, my breath the only thing I heard. "Frankie....No wait," I said, moments after I should have.

I felt him press against my entrance and I yelped. Oh god! It fucking hurt. No lubrication, no preparation, and no warning, he was pushing himself into me roughly. His nails were digging into my legs, anchoring himself against me. His teeth found the back of my neck and crunched down. "Ow!" My eyes watered sharply. As much as this hurt, the pleasure it was giving me was almost overwhelming. I moved, adjusting, trying to help the process along. He pulled back and tried thrusting himself back in again. I yelled. He yelled. We carried on until it became a fluid motion. He pulled my hips back and forth, and he thrust himself in deeply without regard to anything I was doing. So I enjoyed it for what it was worth. One of the hardest fucks I'd ever gotten. His teeth stayed in my neck with such viciousness it really made me think about the animal half that seemed to lay so dormant in him usually. His saliva dribbed down his teeth and along my neck.

This was hot and gross and I needed it more than I thought I did. Unfortunately, it was over quickly. I felt him shaking over me, his body trembling with what I could only apply to as impending release. I couldn't blame him. He needed an off so badly. I had been paralized during this whole thing, captivated by the force, the feeling. I moved, groaning. I reached up, finding the back of his head. I stroked up one of his ears. He whimpered. Bingo. I did it again, slower. He thrust himself in and stayed. I did it again, faster. He panted and gasped and I felt the product of all his hormones burst out inside my body. It was a delicious thrill, feeling the hot spurt of cum buried inside of you. My body tingled again. Frank didn't move. We stayed there for so long, it hurt when he slid out of me. He literally collapsed next to me, his body spent. He was already asleep, his mouth hanging open. It was red. I pulled myself up and my hand flew to the back of my neck. He had bit straight through my skin with his fangs. There was all kinds of spit and blood mixed together, some of my hair falling into it.

I sat there, stunned, sweaty, and so tired. I knew my body was rocking slightly from the lack of oxygen I was giving myself. I was losing my hard-on. I did not have any energy to finish myself off. I had sex with Francis, my pet. I looked at him. He looked like he always did, except naked. His body curled innocently around the pillow, and his ears drooped in the mess of brunette hair. Deep in his chest, a noise vibrated. I guess it was purring. My eyes were getting heavy. I felt like I really wanted a cigarette.

I feel asleep propped against the headboard, my chin dropped into my chest, the last words on my lips being "Goodnight...." and the last thought in my head the completely unashamed feeling coursing through my viens.