When we get to my house, Mikey is lounged lazily across the leather couch; his sock covered feet up on the coffee table. He’s watching Race To Nowhere, as he repeatedly states how fucked America’s school system is.
“Hey, Gee,” he calls. He then looks over to see Frank, holding my hand. Mikey visibly tenses.
“It’s okay,” I assure. I squeeze Frank’s hand as I tell, “We made up.”
“Are you guys….” Mikey eyes our fingers, practically sewn together. “Are you… dating?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Mikey stutters out, “I… I didn’t know you were gay, Gerard.”
“Mikey, we’ll talk about it later,” I mumble. I lead Frank up the steps and into my room.
Frank stands in the doorway for a moment, asking, “That name… what was it, Gee? What’s that about?”
I blush slightly. It’s a dumb nickname Mikey has been saying since he was a baby and before he could say ‘Gerard’. Frank’s never heard it; as I threatened Mikey with death if he ever used the name in front of any of my friends. I guess I won’t hold up my end of the threat this time; after all; Mikey probably didn’t expect anyone to be with me, especially Frank.
“Just a pet name,” I answer.
“It’s cute,” Frank chirps.
“You’re cute,” I mutter.
Frank grins, and lays me down on the bed, tearing off my jacket and hurling it out of there. He leaves my shirt on, which is good, considering the cuts are still on my stomach, red and bulging. He unzips my pants, sliding his hand inside my jeans. He paws at my hard crotch, trying to grant access inside my underwear.
“I’m uh, I’m wearing briefs,” I inform.
Frank nods and undoes my button as well, wrestling my tight jeans down to my knees. He holds his gaze with mine as he pulls my grey briefs down as well, which I appreciate since he’s not staring at my almost painfully erect dick.
He does look at it as he places one hand on my foreskin, massaging it as he uses his other hand to grab just beneath the head of my cock. He moves his thumb up and down the shaft, bringing his pointer finger across the tip a few times as he works.
I gasp as my hips tremble forward, and moan out as Frank again drags his finger across the head. I tilt my head back as Frank works his hand deeper into my crotch, rubbing the area practically raw.
Frank, seeing that my neck is vulnerable, leans forward to plant a series of soft kisses against the skin. At the base, he drags his tongue down to my collarbone, nibbling at it gently. He’s forward so far that my dick is pressing into the bottom of his belly, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I grab Frank’s upper arm, alerting, “Frank! I’m, I feel like I’m going to… going to orgasm.”
“It’s okay,” Frank comforts. He enters his tongue inside my mouth, gripping the head of my cock tightly as a spurt of cum goes directly into his stomach, sticking to his shirt.
I turn red, apologizing, “I’m so sorry!”
Frank pulls off his shirt, assuring, “It’s okay.”
I stare at his bare torso, which is fucking perfect. His chest, perfectly outlined with muscles, hardly protrudes from his stomach. His black happy trail below his belly button leads to a small clump of dark pubic hair sticking out of his jeans and underwear, which are navy blue boxer briefs hanging out over his waistband. I’m impressed; being a fifteen year old with only about four faint pubic hairs. Even then, the coloring is too light to even see.
“That was really weird,” I admit.
Frank knits his brows. “Gerard? Haven’t you ever touched yourself?”
I shake my head. “Actually, no. Why, have you?”
“Well, duh,” Frank snorts. “I’m a horny, angst-ridden teenage boy.”
“That… that sounds like it would be awkward,” I mumble.
Frank laughs. “The shit that comes out of your naive little mouth.” He pecks me on the cheek before undoing his pants, sliding them down his long legs and then kicking them off to the side.
He curls up next to me, grabbing some nearby tissues to clean me off before pulling up my briefs and snuggling with me. I can’t complain; especially because his body is so warm that I’m convinced his body temperature is at least 4,000 degrees.
We end up falling asleep, and don’t awaken till almost five thirty.
I hear a car door slam, which indicates that my mom is home. I turn over to look at Frank, who is still sleeping; one arm sprawled across his body, his fingers resting daintily on his dominant ribcage.
I nudge him, feeling a little guilty for waking him when he looks so content. “Frankie,” I whisper. “Wake up.”
Frank’s wide eyes flutter open, and he smiles sleepily at me before pulling me into a hug, in which he places his jaw on my shoulder and digs his chin into the skin, sighing happily. I can tell, without even seeing, that he is grinning, just as I am.
“I’m so glad I have you,” Frank mumbles into my shoulder. “My life was such shit.”
I pet his hair, fingering a feather soft strand between my forefinger and thumb. “Don’t talk like that. I’m not the only good thing.”
“My family was shit, still is. Same with my grades, myself, all of it was- and still remains- trash. But now, I have you, and Mikey, and Jamia…” Frank starts to cry, his voice coming out high and broken.
I rub his bare back, as it quivers below me. Frank continues to sob, his cries echoing piteously in the high ceilinged room.
“Don’t call yourself shit,” I chide. “You’re so much more than that. You’re… you’re complex, you’re caring, you’re….” I break apart the hug so I can look Frank in the eyes. “You’re perfect, okay? And I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
Frank stops crying, the final tears spilling down his face. I hug him once more, and all I can think about as I do so is how the fuck can I tell him he’s not worthless when I feel the exact same way about myself.

Notes

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