rivers_bend

Title: We can keep in time
Fandom/Pairing: Bandom Gerard/Mikey
Rating: NC17
Words: 3150
The Obvious: I do not know any of the people whose names and public personas are used in this story, and neither believe nor mean to imply this ever happened.
Summary: They’ve been on the road less than two weeks, but it’s been almost four since Mikey and Gerard did more than peck each other on the lips.




They’ve been on the road less than two weeks, but it’s been almost four since Mikey and Gerard did more than peck each other on the lips. Their mom was sick before they left, home all day and up half the night, asking them to watch TV with her because she was going to miss them when they were away, and there just wasn’t time. They’ve gone longer than that—three, four times as long—so it shouldn’t be that big a deal. Except when Gee was in school, they weren’t spending twenty-four hours a day together, living in a van. Gerard wasn’t screaming his heart out on stage every night, embodying the dream Mikey’s had since he could remember.

Tonight they’re at a party after the show, spending the night, because the girl whose house this is said they could sleep in her roommate’s bed since he’s out of town visiting his parents. He’s got a queen-size and a futon, though any of them would happily just take a scrap of floor to stretch out on after thirteen days of sleeping folded in half in the van if they slept at all. Right now though, the house is full of people drinking beer and cheap vodka, and no one’s ready for bed.

Mikey’s leaning against the living room wall, trying to figure out if he’s going to go join Ray and Frankie on the couch now that the girls he was talking to have gone to find more drinks, when Gerard appears from the kitchen.

“Mikey,” he says, reaching out to take Mikey’s arm. “Hey, Mikey.”

“Hey, Gee,” he answers, trying not to sound stupidly fond and probably totally failing. Gerard’s grip is sloppy tight, damp and cool where he’d been clinging to the sweaty beer cup now in his other hand.

“Mikey,” he says again. “Mikey, I—“ His grip loosens enough that his hand can slide down Mikey’s bare arm and up again, fingertips under the band of his sleeve. If Mikey looks at his brother, he’s going to give in and kiss him, and they can’t, not here, so he looks down, eyes on Gerard’s drink, as Gerard leans closer. “I wanna suck you,” Gerard says, soft enough not to carry, thank fuck, despite how drunk he is.

“Can’t,” Mikey says. He wishes— but they can’t.

“Gotta, Mikes. Please.”

The look on Gee’s face is Mikey’s kryptonite, probably because Gerard hasn’t figured out yet that it works every fucking time. “Where can we—“

Gerard leans even closer, shoulder pressed to Mikey’s sternum, cheek pressed to his cheek, and Mikey lets himself lean into it, lets his brother take just a little of his weight. “Otter’s hooked up,” Gerard whispers. “And Ray’s got Frank watching his favorite movie ever, and it just started, so we’ve got at least an hour or two with that dude’s room.”

Having witnessed some of Otter’s hookups, Mikey’s not sure they have more than fifteen minutes, but maybe. “What if,” he whispers back, liking the feel of his jaw working against Gerard’s soft skin and the tiny patch of stubble that contrasts with it.

“The door has a lock. I already checked.” Gerard backs up just enough to look Mikey in the face, spilling some beer on the hem of Mikey’s shirt as he does. “It’s been ages,” he says, eyes wide and pleading. “Just wanna taste you.”

Mikey’s knees go liquid, and he’s glad for the hand Gerard still has on his arm reminding him he can’t just drop to the floor right here and start pawing at his brother’s fly. “Gee,” he says, needing Gerard to stop saying things like that.

“You gotta let me, Mikey,” Gerard says, not getting it at all. He darts in so his lips are right by Mikey’s ear again. “Need to bite that scar right by your hipbone. Lick you all over ’til you’re begging me to put your dick in my mouth.”

Fuck the licking, Gerard’s gonna make him beg right here if he’s not careful. “Let’s go,” Mikey says. Like he was ever going to say anything else. The smile Gerard gives him is the sweetest, filthiest thing he’s ever seen.


The lock is pretty flimsy, a bathroom-door sort of thing you can pick with a paperclip and no skill, but it’s better than nothing, and Mikey’s a good two beers and three lines of dirty talk past the point of giving a shit right now, so he just thumbs the button and lets Gerard push him over to the bed.

“Fuck,” Gerard’s saying. “Fucking fuck, your jeans’r so tight. Dirty tight. Fucking impossible.”

They are tight, though not nearly as hard to get off as Gerard’s making it, so Mikey takes over, toeing off his shoes and using the carpet to get a start on his socks as he pushes the denim over his hips. Gee lets him get one leg out before he tackles him onto the bed, hands tugging Mikey’s hair into hopeless tangles, tongue reacquainting itself with every corner of Mikey’s mouth. He’s managed to get his own jeans open but no farther, and the zipper’s a spiky line against the scar Gerard promised to bite.

Gerard feels good, hot and hard and soft, pointy knees and sharp teeth, the give of his waist under Mikey’s palm, the damp wrap of his hair around Mikey’s fingers, and it’s so easy to grind against his thigh, pull him closer, wrap him up. Mikey wonders sometimes if he could still get off just like this—like when he was fifteen and rolling over to finish off his wet dreams against his brother’s hip, Gerard petting his back and murmuring soothing words against his lips—but these days Gerard’s eager to give Mikey his hand or his mouth in whatever snatched moments they can find, and Mikey hasn’t had to find out.

Tonight Gerard’s keen to make good on his promise of a blow job, kissing Mikey just long enough to make him groan and tug at Gerard’s hair, and then leaving him with a quick nip to remember him by before scooting down the bed, pushing at Mikey’s ribs and wrists in a way Mikey’s pretty sure means he’s supposed to get closer to the headboard instead of half hanging off the bed’s end like he is now. Mikey does it, giving his brother space to push his thighs apart, hoping maybe Gee will finish taking his jeans off, but not minding at all when he doesn’t, since he’s too focused on tracing the fading zipper imprints on Mikey’s hip with his tongue.

The first time Gerard sucked him off, Mikey thought all the nuzzling and sniffing and licking he did first was him chickening out—it had taken some doing to convince Gerard the world was not going to implode if they sucked each other’s dicks instead of just talking endlessly about it—but it turned out that Gerard just has a thing. A thing Mikey wouldn’t go so far as to say is better than having Gerard’s mouth hot and wet around his dick, but that is pretty awesome just the same.

Nights they have a whole house to themselves, Gerard can spend hours between Mikey’s thighs, head pillowed next to Mikey’s dick, drawing patterns with his fingertips, dropping kisses, pinching tiny folds of Mikey’s skin between his teeth to make him squeak on the end of a “Please, Gee, please just fucking suck me,” but if there’s a time constraint, he satisfies himself with making sure Mikey’s junk and every inch of skin between his belly button and the tops of his thighs receives at least a cursory lick before he gets him off.

“Why d’you always—fuck, yes—always—” he’d started to ask once, even as he was hoping Gerard wouldn’t actually stop what he was doing to answer, and Gerard hadn’t. But after Mikey’d come and forgotten his question entirely, Gerard nuzzled into his neck and said, “‘Cause I like how my spit smells on your skin. Smells like us.” Now Mikey likes to lick Gee’s arm, before sound check, or before they get in the van, Gee driving, Mikey sitting in the back, and he’ll watch Gerard lift his wrist, or the inside of his elbow, or wherever Mikey’s left a line of spit, and sniff it like he doesn’t know he’s doing it.

Tonight, Gerard plays with Mikey’s nuts while he licks, rubbing up behind them with a knuckle, tugging on them gently, thumbing the skin at the base of his dick, as Mikey pulls on his hair and nearly bites his lip in half trying not to make any noise. The room they’re in shares a wall with the living room, and too many people out there know he and Gee are brothers.

It’s totally not fair, because Gerard knows how much Mikey loves having his balls touched, and finally in desperation, Mikey pulls Gerard off the spot on his belly which apparently needs all the kisses, and all but shoves his dick in Gee’s mouth.

“Oh, okay,” Gerard says happily, but like he’s a little surprised Mikey wanted him to actually suck him at some point this evening, and then he wraps a hand and his mouth around Mikey’s dick and fucking, yesss.

When someone’s sucking him, Mikey’s pretty good about not bucking his hips, fucking his partner’s throat, even likes the part of getting head that’s him having to keep some control, but he likes that Gee enjoys having his hair pulled, especially when they’ve got to keep quiet. Tonight, he’s really into it, squeezing Mikey’s thigh, making soft hungry noises every time Mikey tugs. They get a rhythm going, Mikey pulling Gee off his dick every time his lips are about to meet his fingers, Gee straining to get a little farther down, and Mikey can’t keep watching and can’t look away. Gerard’s mouth’s stretched wide and red and slick, face flushed and sweaty like he’s on the last song of a set, and fuck, it’s gonna be a while before Mikey’s able to watch Gerard hold his mic without picturing this exact moment.

“Fuck,” he says, “Fuck,” trying to whisper, trying to not say anything at all. Gerard’s hand’s sped up in the way that means he knows Mikey’s about to come, doesn’t need a warning, and he’s gonna, gonna, “Gnnnngh,” he says—or maybe it’s Gerard, since he can feel it vibrating down to his balls—and fuck, fuck, fuck, Gerard’s pulling off, and Mikey’s still coming, getting it in Gee’s hair when Gee bites down on the tendon in Mikey’s groin to muffle the noises he’s making.

Mikey hooks his brother under the armpits and hauls him upwards, because, ow, and he should probably rub that in before there’s a Something about Mary moment, and he should maybe also return the favor, but when he gets Gerard up to kissing distance, instead of a hardon against his hip, there’s a wet spot.

Gee’s doing that thing where he’s trying to kiss Mikey and trying to split his face in half with a grin at the same time, and the grin’s winning, so Mikey reaches down to fit his palm over Gerard’s dick. “Really?” he asks, hitting somewhere between the incredulous he’s aiming for and the pleased as fuck he feels. He expects Gee to pull away, sensitive, but he pushes into Mikey’s touch instead. “Really?” Mikey says again, genuinely surprised this time.

“I don’t know,” Gerard answers, hand going to Mikey’s wrist like he’s gonna pull him off. Mikey flexes, presses down on Gee’s dick, making him twitch head to toe, shoulders hunching, ass clenching, knees knocking into Mikey’s thigh. “Too much,” Gerard murmurs, but he’s holding Mikey’s hand right where it is, so Mikey’s thinking too much might be a good thing.

“I can stop if you want,” Mikey says, rocking his palm experimentally, rubbing his fingertips along the line where Gerard’s fly cuts across his balls.

Gerard shakes his head where it’s pillowed on Mikey’s shoulder, just enough for Mikey to feel it. “Or not,” Mikey says.

The way Gerard’s clinging to him and still wearing too many clothes, Mikey doesn’t have much room to maneuver, but that’s kind of thrilling in its own way. Gerard’s boxers are worn near to gossamer and soaked through, and Mikey bets if he could see, he’d be able to distinguish the dark curls of Gee’s pubes, the red of his sac, the deeper color of his cockhead, but the angle’s wrong and his hand’s in the way, and the only light’s coming from the reading lamp on the desk, so he has to rely on his fingers and his imagination. “Good?” he asks, slicking the wet fabric across the base of Gerard’s dick.

“It’s like—“ Gee hauls in a gulp of air. “’S’like when you’ve gotta piss so bad that you can’t get started, and you’re holding your dick and you’re scared to move your fingers ‘cause you don’t know what’s gonna happen if you do, but you gotta move ‘em, gotta squeeze a little, see if you can get things going, y’know?”

Mikey can’t say this is something that’s ever happened to him, but he doesn’t tend to get as distracted as his brother, and when he needs to piss he fucking goes to take a piss. “If you say so,” he murmurs, rubbing again, touch a little firmer this time. “That a good thing?”

“Good when it’s you,” Gerard says, rocking into Mikey’s touch.

Twisting his wrist, Mikey gets his thumb up so he can rub Gee’s cockhead. That makes Gerard squeak a little, so he does it again, pushing the wet fabric in slow circles, slit to crown and back up, slit to crown again. The squeak turns to a barely audible whine, and Gee’s legs start pumping, feet sliding on the sheets, knees bumping Mikey’s legs, but his hips stay stock still like he’s afraid of Mikey losing contact with his dick. Mikey’s left hand fists tight in the back of Gerard’s shirt—he doesn’t want Gee going anywhere either.

In the background, the party noise is just enough for Mikey to be distantly aware of it, but his focus is completely on Gerard’s ragged breathing, hot and wet against his cheek. Every exhale catches in his throat, like he’s too strung out to remember how to do it, and it’s making Mikey want to pin him down and grind. Instead, he hooks an ankle over Gee’s restless legs and says, “Stay still.”

Gerard gasps, eyes going wide, and nods a little, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Mikey nods back and then starts circling again, thumb working the head of Gee’s dick while his fingers tease lightly at the shaft, taking advantage of the wet fabric and how sensitive Gerard is, needing almost no pressure to get a response.

Everything’s so hot, so intense, it’s hard for Mikey to keep still, and it must be almost impossible for Gerard, who’s trembling, still working his toes, though he’s being good and keeping his legs from kicking. Mikey can still see the indents from this teeth on his lip, even with his mouth dropped wide, shiny and pink and tempting. But Mikey doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t nuzzle at the hectic blotches on his cheeks, he just keeps his fingers moving and watches Gerard try to hold on.

Time spins out, goes hazy, and Mikey starts to count, swipes of his fingers, Gee’s breaths, his own choppy inhalations, all the numbers keeping their own rhythm like his bass against Frank and Ray’s guitars, and Mikey’s just gotta keep playing til he gets to the end of the song, only he has no fucking clue how this song even goes. Gerard’s not getting hard again, but his dick’s twitching like it is, and Gee’s making the little clicking sounds in the back of his throat like he’s getting close to coming, but can he even do that without getting hard?

Then Gee grabs Mikey’s hair and his forearm, and his hips jerk hard, and ow, Mikey’s wrist does not bend that way, and he starts shuddering, legs kicking free of Mikey’s restraint, and Mikey can’t do anything but take his hand off his brother’s dick and watch him.

“Fuuuuckkkk,” Gerard breathes finally, stilling, unwinding his fingers from Mikey’s hair and petting it clumsily like that will make up for the torn-out strands. “Fuck, Mikey. Fuck.”

“I, um, see that,” Mikey says, though he still isn’t actually sure what he did see.

“I think I just came like a girl,” Gerard says. “And man, I’m fucking jealous.”

Mikey laughs. “What does that even mean?”

“Like how they—“ Gerard blinks up at Mikey and starts laughing too. “I don’t have a fucking clue,” he says.

“Glad we cleared that up.”

“Whatever. That was freaky. And awesome.”

With fingers still damp from Gerard’s boxers, Mikey pushes Gerard’s hair out of his eyes. “Glad it was awesome,” he says.

“Yeah.” Gerard nuzzles Mikey’s hand and gives him his best heartbreaking smile. “Naptime now?”

“We should maybe get cleaned up before the other guys come in? My jeans are half off, and you’ve got jizz everywhere.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Gerard agrees, but his eyes are closed, and Mikey’s pretty sure it’s too late. He waits a minute until Gee starts snoring softly, and then eases out of bed. There’s a bathroom next door, he’s pretty sure, and he can at least clean himself up. It won’t be the first time Gerard’s gone to bed first and they’ve found him fast asleep with pants undone and shorts stiff with jizz.

The bathroom’s right where he thought and no one’s in it, and there’s even a roll of paper towels on the back of the toilet, so Mikey looks as presentable as he ever looks after a show when he heads back to the living room. Ray and Frank are still watching their movie. Frank catches Mikey’s eye and pats the sliver of cushion next to him, so Mikey goes and joins them.

“You find a girl?” Frank asks, fingering the wet fringe of hair over Mikey’s temple.

Mikey shrugs, gives Frank his best enigmatic smile.

“You ‘da man, Mikes,” Frank says, raising his hand for a fist bump.

“Shh. The good part’s coming up,” Ray hisses at them.

“You’ve said that like six times,” Frank argues.

“Well, there’s lots of good parts.”

Frank pats Ray’s thigh, and then leans into Mikey, pulling Mikey’s arm around his shoulders.

“It’s all good parts,” Mikey says. Ray beams at him, and Frank nudges an elbow into his side. Mikey can’t tell what they’re watching, but it doesn’t matter. “It is,” he says, and they settle back to watch the rest of the movie, the party going on around them.