rivers_bend

Title: Quiet Time
Fandom/Pairing: Bandom; Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC17
Words: 2500
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 any of this ever happened.
A/N: Set in the PWP AU where Frank and Gerard are married to each other.
Summary: …they are now on hour nine and coffee-pot five of Gerard and the castle backdrop that's half like the Palace at Versailles and half a Scottish ruin, and Frank needs it to stop for a while.



Gerard woke up this morning with ideas. And Frank is totally behind ideas. One hundred percent. But Los Angeles is doing that thing where it tries to fit its entire annual rainfall into one twenty-four hour period, so they can't leave the house—because Los Angelinos do not fucking know how to drive in the rain and Frank likes his life, thank you—and they are now on hour nine and coffee-pot five of Gerard and the castle backdrop that's half like the Palace at Versailles and half a Scottish ruin, and Frank needs it to stop for a while.

"Here's what's going to happen," he says, capturing Gerard's most wildly gesticulating hand between both his own. "We're going to sit over there on the couch, and we're going to watch some TV. And you're not going to say one single word until we turn the TV off again. Okay?"

"But—" Gerard says.

"An hour. One little hour. You followed me to the bathroom, Gee. To tell me about limestone boulders in a hedge maze. I need a break."

"I can go away." Gerard tries to tug his hand out of Frank's grip.

"Don't want you to go away. I want you to be quiet for a while. It'll be good for you. Come on. I won't even make you watch ESPN."

Gerard looks at him with narrowed eyes. "And none of that HGTV crap."

"Whatever you want, Gee. You can pick."

There's a Mythbusters marathon on, and that seems to appease the last of Gerard's grumbles, so they settle in to watch.

"He looks almost as happy about blowing shit up as Ray looked after Reading," Gerard says after a couple minutes of blissful silence.

"Not possible," Frank says. "Also, we're not talking, remember?"

"At all?" Gerard turns his whole body to look at him, like just using his neck muscles could not possibly convey the level of incredulity the conversation requires. "I thought you just meant no more talking about the video."

"No talking at all, Gee. You can do it. Only fifty-three more minutes."

"You're mean," Gerard mutters.

"The meanest." Frank's tried playing his guitar, reading, even calling his mom, but Gerard always had one more thing he wanted to tell him. Frank doesn't feel that mean. But now there's this big space along Gerard's side where his arm is up on the back of the couch, so Frank leans into it, because he knows how hard it is for Gerard to shut up when it's not his idea.

Gerard doesn't say anything, but his arm settles over Frank's shoulders.

Jamie's finished setting fire to a car in the middle of a parking lot, and Kari is building handgun suppressors with empty soda bottles and things you might find in your average hotel room, and Gerard's fingers have dipped below the stretched-out neck of Frank's shirt to trace the line of his collar bone. Frank's feeling pretty good about life.

He's also feeling pretty good about the heat of Gerard's thigh under his palm. He slides it up a little, settles his head more comfortably against Gerard's chest. It's weirdly mesmerizing watching Kari shred a towel with a steak knife. Though that could partly be the steady back and forth of Gerard's fingers on his ches— orrr on his nipple. Frank kinda wants to say something about how it would have been nice to know several hours ago that Gerard could have been distracted by sex, but he just shifts a little more to the left so Gerard doesn't have to bend his wrist quite so much.

Gerard stops stroking and presses, scratches a little with one ragged fingernail. And okay, if that's how they're playing this, Frank is on fucking board. His hand's an inch, maybe two, from the bump of Gerard's junk, soft bulge resting at the top of his thigh. Wiggling like he's just getting more comfortable, Frank edges closer. Close enough to tuck his pinky in the warm pocket of denim where Gee's jeans crease underneath it. That gets a pinch to his nipple and a quiet inhale from Gerard, and when Frank edges his ring finger in after his pinky, Gee spreads his knees. Not a lot. He probably thinks he's being subtle. The guy can be delusional like that sometimes.

The poorly muffled shot on the TV covers Frank's small huff of laughter. Continuing the subtle theme, Gee rolls Frank's nipple between two fingers, and Frank tests the heft of Gerard's dick with his knuckles. Stiffer than it was a second ago, he's pretty sure, though he hasn't got the best angle to tell. Slowly, while Kari explains to Grant how they need to set up the mics for the next round of tests, Frank moves his hand up until he's cupping Gerard's dick through his jeans, and oh, yeah. Definitely getting hard. Frank likes it here on Gee's chest where he can hear him breathing, the little break when Frank squeezes gently, the tiny sound when he does it again.

Usually Gee would be saying, yeah, yeah, or fuck, Frankie, don't tease, already, even though they've hardly started anything, but he's quiet. Doesn't even turn his head, just keeps his chin resting lightly on Frank's temple. But his ass tightens up—Frank can feel it against his hip, can tell from the quick press of Gerard's dick into his palm. And his whole hand's gripping Frank's pec now, fingertips digging in just a little.

Frank's getting hard himself, and his cock is not at a stiffy-friendly angle at all. Best cure for that is to hook his knee over Gerard's leg, shuffle up a little and then down. Jamie and Adam are back on the screen, but Frank can't tell what they're talking about, because his new position has prompted Gerard to reach over and slide his free hand down the front of Frank's jeans.

Practiced at getting a semi situated comfortably in too-constricting denim, Gerard makes quick work of shifting Frank's junk up against his belly, but then he just cups it, ignoring the awkward angle his arm has to maintain. Frank's angle is even worse, hampered now by Gerard's arm too, but Frank has never let awkward stop him before; he's certainly not going to let it keep him out of Gerard's pants.

He has to wiggle his fingers under Gerard's forearm to get at his button, and Gerard pretends he doesn't notice what Frank's up to, not helping at all, but once Frank’s got that open, the zipper is no problem. Which is just as well, because Gee didn't bother with underwear today, and Frank wasn't being careful not to catch any sensitive skin. Frank wraps his fingers around, thumb teasing Gee's nuts, and just holds, feels Gerard get harder in his hand, waits for him to make the next move.

His move involves using the arm he has around Frank's shoulder to lift him further into his lap, so Frank has to have his hand behind his back to keep it on Gerard's cock. But Frank has flexible wrists. He can haul a guitar around a stage all night, play it over his head with his legs in the air. Gerard's only used to prancing around with a mic, so Frank's cool with letting him have the optimal position. Especially if it means—jesus—Gerard's gonna get his hand in Frank's briefs and stop fucking around.

It's hard not to make a sound when Gerard starts jerking him, slow and tight and really fucking good, but Frank bites his lips, presses his head against Gerard's collar bone, arches his back, and stays quiet. Gerard doesn't do quite as well, lets a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan escape when Frank presses his thumb to the base of his cock, uses his wrist to push the head into the softness of Gerard's belly, and christ Gee is really fucking good with his fucking hands.

The fingers that were playing with Frank's nipple are down around his waist now, squeezing, digging in like Gee just really fucking likes Frank's skin, the muscles underneath, and Frank knows this because Gerard's usually whispering, Fuck. Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good, so soft and hard, the way you flex, the way you move— a constant narration, that Frank hardly notices anymore until it's replaced by a conversation about cars and net force and something whatever.

There isn't room in Frank's pants for Gerard to really do much more than he's doing, and great as it feels, Frank knows it's not gonna take him there, so he gets his own fly undone, nudges Gerard's spare hand into helping him push the fabric out of the way. That gets Gee's dick riding the skin of Frank's ass and the small of his back, and yeah, okay, that's much better.

Still staring at the TV, Frank licks his palm, gets his fingers wet with spit, and then reaches down again to give Gee some better friction. It's been—god—years now since they did this, back in the van days, when Gerard would pull Frank into his lap, shift and wiggle until he got Frank sitting between his thighs, and—somehow without any of the other guys noticing—get his dick out, rub off against Frank's spine up under his shirt. It was dirty, fucking gross except for how hot it was, but after the first time when Frank bitched for a week, Gee was pretty good about doing it only when there was the possibility of a shower in their near future. Gerard can't thrust like this, not with Frank actually sitting on him, but Frank can use his hand to make up for that, which is hot in its own way. Gerard's still jerking Frank tight and slow, still digging fingers into his hip to keep him still, so Frank doesn't work to get him off, just keeps him close with the curl of spit-damp fingers around his shaft, pretends they’re just chillin’, nuzzles his face into the side of Gerard's neck.

If they were kissing, or even looking at each other, things would have escalated a lot more quickly, but the episode they're watching ends and the next one starts and they're just starting to sweat where they're pressed together. Adam's in a fork lift and Jamie has a fire hose, and the spray looks refreshing. Better than the crappy hose showers on Warped, though Frank knows it would knock him off his feet. Frank's arm is starting to ache twisted back like this, but he reaches up a little more, palms the head of Gee's cock, feels for the slick at the end. That gets a breathy moan in his ear, Gerard's hand moving quicker on his dick. Not the quick twisting rhythm right up by the head that Frank likes best, but something enough like it that combined with the feel of Gerard's dick slipping in the damp heat against the curve of his ass cheek he might be able to come. Frank turns his head to steal a kiss off Gerard's jaw, lick at the stubble there, get the taste of him in his mouth, and he's so fucking instituting regular quiet time if this is what it leads to.

And then Gerard stops. Takes his hand off Frank's dick and pushes Frank over like he's going away, and what the fuck.

But Gerard's just lifting him enough to get one leg up on the couch, is pulling Frank down with the arm around his chest, and maybe he was thinking back to the van days too, because they end up with Gerard reclined against the arm of the sofa, Frank on top of him, trapping Gee's dick between his back and Gerard's belly, Gerard palming Frank's nuts. And that has the van days beat by a mile, because back then Frank had always had to slink off by himself afterwards, jerk it frantically, thinking about Gerard's dick hidden behind the wings of his greasy jeans jacket as he rubbed off on Frank's back. Gee doing anything about Frank's not-very-well-hidden-in-his-baggy-jeans dick would have been far too obvious to the other guys.

Now that Frank doesn't need his hands to keep his balance or keep Gerard's dick occupied, he rubs them on Gerard's thighs, pulls Gee's arm more tightly around his chest, guides his fingers back to Frank's nipple.

"Hmh," Gerard says, a small amused sound, but he doesn't talk, and Frank enjoys the thrill that gives him. He can almost hear Gee say, you're so easy for having your nipples played with, Frankie. Roll right over for me. It makes Frank want to say, I'd be even easier if you'd fucking get me off already, but he keeps quiet too.

Not, apparently, that he needed to say anything out loud, because like he heard him, Gerard slides his hand up, wraps around Frank's dick again and starts jerking him off like he means business. Slow, sweet, torturous business with a lot of humping Frank's spine, but business.

Time stretches out, the voices on the TV fading to a drone and Frank just holding on as Gerard does all the work. And that's even stranger than them doing this in silence, but Frank's pretty sure he's just as into it. He fights the urge to grab and grope and guide while he listens to the bitten-off sounds in Gerard's throat, and only lets his fingers tighten on Gee's knee when he's so close to coming he can't help it.

Like maybe that's what Gerard was waiting for, he tips over first, nearly strangling Frank's dick as he hauls Frank impossibly closer, bucking up against him.

"Fuck, Gerard!" Frank squawks, flinching, and Gee's fucking lucky Frank's back's all slick with jizz or he would be suffering twisted dick right now too.

Gee huffs another laugh and catches Frank's mouth in a kiss, releasing his stranglehold to give Frank just the strokes he needs.


Frank's still relishing the afterglow when Gerard starts wriggling and shifting under him, reaching for the coffee table.

"The fuck?" Frank mumbles.

Gerard just stretches further, but whatever he wants, he can't reach it with Frank collapsed on top of him.

"I was comfortable there," Frank complains.

"It's been an hour," Gerard says. "But you said no talking 'til you turned the TV off."

That makes Frank need to flop around until they're face to face so he can kiss Gerard properly. "New rule," he says, once Gerard has been thoroughly kissed and isn't trying for the remote anymore. "No talking until you get me off."

"'Kay," Gerard says, and pulls Frank more comfortably against his chest. "So I was thinking. The hedge maze—"

Frank covers Gerard's mouth with one hand, grinning at his look of surprise. "Changed my mind. Original rule stands."

Gerard bites his palm, but when Frank lets go he just smiles, and doesn't say another word.