It would always start with a simple whimper from the lips of a sleeping Frank. It didn’t matter where he was sleeping. He could be in a bunk, a motel, on a couch, and he would whimper. It was somewhat of an indistinct whimper, one that could be confused with a painful or sorrowful sound. Therefore, it was almost impossible for Gerard to discern the true nature of the sound.
That is, it was impossible until the whimper was followed by a quiet moan, a moan that was accompanied by one whispered word, “Gee….”
At this point, Gerard would look over with a glint in his eyes. His gaze would be met with a sight he was very much expecting. Frank would usually be sprawled out on whatever surface he happened to be lying on. What caught the attention of the onlooker however, was the quite noticeable bulge in his very tight jeans. A bulge that a subconscious image of the singer had put there.
At that point, Gerard would begin to be tempted. He would want to reach out and touch the short guitarist. The thought of it would begin the process of Gerard’s pants attempting to match Frank’s. Images would flash through Gerard’s head of what wonderfully terrible things he could do with the object of his desire in such a vulnerable state. He would not act on these, though, because he tried to be as civil as he could, and he did not want to take advantage of his best friend.
The temptation would become very great, however, and Gerard would give in in just the smallest way. He would creep silently across the space between them. Once he arrived over the tiny frame of the other man, he would reach out a shaky hand. That hand would land gently on top of the bulge. Ever so lightly, it would stroke downward.
Frank’s lips would then open, and he would utter something along the lines of, “Gee, don’t tease me.”
Overcome by his lust at this point, and wanting to have a bit of fun, Gerard would speak back in a manner such as, “What do you want, Frankie?” After this statement, his palm would press just a bit harder into Frank’s crotch.
Frank would let out either another whimper or a moan. He would pant a little before replying with a request which was most often, “Please, fuck me.”
It would probably be good at this time to clear up a common misconception. Do not be deceived by the wonderfully angelic face of Gerard Way. That man is a kinky bastard. He is a kinky bastard with terrible habits, which is why he would reply with a dirty order like, “Say you’re my bitch. Then maybe you’ll get what you want.”
The sleeping one would then whimper long and loud, “Why? I don’t want to.”
Gerard would smirk a bit, knowing his victim wouldn’t last in his refusal, “But Frankie, I can’t fuck you if you don’t tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re my bitch. Tell me you want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk. And tell me that’s all you want from me.”
Frank would at that point fall silent. He would remain in that silent state for some time before opening his mouth to speak, saying the only words that stayed consistent throughout every occurrence, “But, Gee, I don’t just want you for sex, I love you.”
The words would put a stutter in Gerard’s heartbeat. He would ignore that, though. He just wanted to have fun with his toy, not develop true feelings for him. Therefore, he would tap Frank’s cheek, knowing the other man would register it in his dream as quite a hard slap.
He would clench his teeth before spitting words similar to, “Did I tell you to love me? Frankie, you’re confused. Your ass is all I want and I know you feel the same about my dick. Now tell me what I want to hear.”
Frank would make silent sobs before repeating Gerard’s earlier words. Gerard would sometimes feel sorry for him. In the event of that happening, h e would shake the feeling quickly. He had no time for that. Instead, he would lick his lips and say something vulgar. Perhaps it would be, “Moan for me Frankie. Moan when I fill you.”
Frank would then moan loudly. He would become lost in fake sex noises. He would order Gerard to do things the man had no real control over. Gerard would watch in amusement for a second before unbuttoning his pants and slipping a hand into his boxers. He would pull out his throbbing erection and pump in time to Frank’s moans. His eyes would flutter shut as he envisioned being surrounded by the tight walls of the other man.
If it was a good day, Frank would sometimes call out like, “Oh, god, Gee, fuck right there!”
Gerard had no idea how Frank could envision his prostate being hit without it actually happening, but he wouldn’t dwell on that fact. Instead, he would wait, moaning along with Frank until he felt his climax approaching. At this point he would gasp, “Frankie, come with me.”
Frank, the ever obedient, sleeping man slut that he was, would oblige completely. As Gerard rode out his orgasm, he would watch Frank’s crotch grow dark with his seed. He would then allow himself one final, kinky indulgence. Gently, he would slip a finger into the guitarist’s boxers. He would get just a few drops of the nectar that was filling the space on his finger. He would then bring the digit to his mouth, licking off the salty liquid.
With his work done, Gerard would begin to clean up the mess he had made. During this, he would always wonder what would happen if Frank awoke during his routine….

Notes

Yeah, don't judge me my mind is a freaky place. I'm thinking of a possible follow up chapter in which Gerard goes overboard and Frank wakes up ? Tell me if you want that, or if you don't, or if you hated this and think I should never write again. You know, whatever, just say something so I know someone actually read this!