Molest

Disclaimer: I live in a fictional fantasy world. This is the result.


Gerard is spinning. Spinning from the alcohol and the smoke, the heat of the surrounding bodies and the constant drum of the baseline pulsing against his temples, through his chest. Everything is blistering hands slipping just past hems, grazing sharp, smooth bones as two pairs of hips move as one to the music pounding through them. It’s free, unbridled…scorching. Its pure sex, and they both know it.

Gerard knows he should take a break. His hair is plastered to his head and sweat drips down the small of his back, over his chest, down his sides. But how can he leave when Mikey is pressing back so hungrily against him, practically panting as his usually awkward body flows seamlessly with the ridiculously fast music. Gerard has one hand up the front of Mikey’s tight t-shirt, tracing patters across his torturously smooth abdomen while his other hand dips dangerously lower with each beat. When Mikey turns his head, wrapping an arm around Gerard’s shoulder as he breathes a ‘yes’ into his ear and licks the sweat from his neck, he knows the only way he’d be leaving this dance floor would be in a body bag.

Or like this, he thinks as he feels himself being pulled from the dance floor, his wrist caught in a painful grip as Mikey leads him to the back of the club, to the bathroom.

Its dirty. The whole room smells of sweat and piss, stale alcohol and stale sex. Its disgusting, but Gerard has no time to think about it as before his head slams sharply into the wall behind him. His mind is screaming in protest, but his body screams louder as Mikey pins him there , one had on either side of his head, eyes closed as he attacks his mouth ferociously. Gerard moans as Mikey sucks in his bottom lip as he pulls back, biting down so hard he can taste the metallic tang of blood.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” Mikey spits at Gerard before diving back in, sucking on Gerard’s neck as his hands work furiously at his belt. Gerard wants to reply, wants to stop this sickness before is goes further, but then Mikey is on his knees in front of him, tracing his tongue slowly up the underside of his cock and Gerard’s thoughts fly out the grimy, cracked window. The sound Gerard emits can only be described as a growl as Mikey engulfs him in one fluid movement. Gerard moans uncontrollably, his eyes squeezed shut as he rolls his head from side to side against the wall behind him and grabs a fistful of Mikey’s hair. He starts to thrust into that beautiful, hot, wet mouth and Mikey moans around him, sending maddening vibrations straight up his length, up his spine. He opens his eyes to see Mikey stroking himself furiously in time with his hips. The sight is all it takes, and Gerard cums down Mikey's throat, screaming his brother’s name. Mikey follows seconds later, spilling across his hand and Gerard’s feet.

Gerard’s fist is still entwined in Mikey’s hair, and he jerks him to his feet with it, pulling him into a short, bruising kiss.

“You’re sicker,” Gerard replies, releasing Mikey’s hair roughly as he zips up his pants.

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