I Think I Like It

“You’re crazy, Gerard Way, you know that? Fuckin’ crazy.” I chuckled. He rolled his eyes and pushed me down onto the bed.
“I don’t care. I wanna do it.”
“You’ve drawn me a thousand times before – why do we have to make a big thing out of it?” I sighed. He smiled gently, running a finger down my cheek.
“This time is special. I’m gonna sell this one, I think.” He grinned proudly.
“Who’d buy my face?” I laughed. He brought my face up to his and kissed me hungrily.
“I’d buy it. I’d fuck it. I’d marry it. Your damn face is so beautiful, and someone is gonna look at this painting and fall in love with you.” He growled, kissing my forehead before retreating.
“And you’re okay with that?” I laughed, pressing my thighs together as he set up his easel and paints. He chuckled, shoving the end of a paintbrush between his lips.
“Yeah, I’m okay with that. They’re not gonna be able to look at the real thing, are they? You’re all mine, darling.” He grinned. I pursed my lips.
“What do you even want me to do?” I sighed. Gerard slid his glasses onto his face and nodded.
“Okay, so if you sort of sit up on your knees, but not in a slutty way, like, in a ‘I’m waiting for my dorky boyfriend to be done painting me so I can cuddle him’ kind of way” he grinned.
“Right, I think I’ve got that.” I chuckled. He nodded appreciatively.
“Right, now I want you to put one hand behind your neck like – yeah, like that. Good. Okay, now put the other hand in your waistband, like, with your thumbs in the loops. Yeah, perfect. Perfect.” He sighed, looking at me adoringly. I blushed under his praise.
“Okay you dork, now what?”
“Right, so now I want you to smile for me.” He said. I did, and he frowned, shaking his head.
“No, baby, don’t fake it. Think about me. Think about how we made love on a roof, or about how I’m gonna marry you, and about how much I love you. Yeah, that’s it. Look at me like you’re in love with me.” He smiled. I bit my lip and he chuckled.
“Even better. You think you can stay still for me, sweetheart?”
“For how long?” I sighed. He pursed his lips.
“Maybe…I don’t know. Not long. I just have to get the outlines done, and I can probably do the details myself. I nodded and got back into position. He gave me a wide smile, and grabbed his pencil. The only thing that could be heard for a long time was the gentle scratching of his pencil against the paper, and his occasional hum of approval, or a sigh of annoyance. His eyes were narrowed, focused on the canvas in front of him. He grinned, grabbing a paintbrush – finally – and dipping it into black paint. He looked up at me and smiled a little.
“Do you want to stay like that, or do you want a break?”
“I can stay.” I said. He grinned and started moving his brush in long, heavy strokes against the paper, the paint flicking out and hitting his cheeks and glasses. Despite this, though, he just kept painting, his eyes moving impossibly quickly between me and his work. He abandoned the brush with the black paint on it, his hand reaching desperately for another one and slathering red paint onto it, before stroking it along the paper. His breath was coming hard and heavy, his lips parted and dry as his eyes flicked up to mine. The way it looked, this was just going to be a red and black mess. I knew Gerard, though. It’d be perfect.
“Moan for me.” He whispered suddenly, his voice hoarse.
“What?” I laughed. He looked up at me, his eyes serious.
“Moan. Loud. Let me hear you moan.”
“Why?”
“Because I need you to so I can finish this. I need to draw your moan into it.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Moan or I’ll make you.” He breathed, not looking at me. I let a soft whimper escape my lips, followed by a loud moan. He nodded, as if I should continue, and turned his attention back to the drawing. I moaned again.
“Keep going. I’m…almost done.” He panted. I moaned loudly, my voice desperate and loud, despite faking it.
“Okay. Okay, it’s fine. You can stop.” He breathed. I nodded and closed my mouth, dropping my pose. He pulled the brush across the page a few more times before dropping it down next to the black one. His eyes wandered across his work, and a small smile slipped across his lips.
“Mm. Yeah. That’s real good.” He murmured. He rose from his chair and walked slowly towards me, his paint-covered hand cupping my cheek, his thumb sliding across my lips.
“You were so good for me. Thank you.” He murmured. I leaned my head into his touch.
“Mm, anything for you, honey.” I sighed, wrapping a hand around his wrist, pulling him closer to me. He hummed happily and slid into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck.
“I love you so much. You’re everything.”
“You’re everything to me too.” I smiled.
“I’d be dead without you.” He murmured suddenly. I gaped at him.
“Wh-what?” I stammered. He shrugged, nonchalantly.
“I don’t think I’d be alive if you didn’t love me.I need you.” He said, pressing a kiss to my jaw. I held him tightly, burying my face in his shoulder.
“Hey, don’t talk like that. I love you, okay? I’m always gonna love you.”
“I hope so, sweetheart.” He sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear. I gave him a weak smile.
“So, when am I gonna see your masterpiece?” I laughed. He pushed me backwards onto the bed, climbing on top of me.
“I think I wanna make out with you for a bit first, then you can see it.” He grinned. I laughed and pulled him down to me, pressing our lips together. He sighed and ran his tongue along my bottom lip, angling his head to deepen the kiss. His hands rested softly on my hips, his nails digging into my skin slightly.
“Holy shit.” I breathed, feeling suddenly overwhelmed as I looked at the man on top of me. He was fuck, twice my age? He was my teacher? He was in love with me? What the fuck?
Gerard slid off, his eyes wide.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck I’m dating my teacher.” I gasped, putting my hands in my hair. He just stared at me like I was crazy.
“Um. Yes. You have been for a little while.” He chuckled.
“That’s so weird, right? Like, you’re my teacher. That’s such a weird thing!” I laughed. He just furrowed his eyebrows.
“Frank, are you okay?” he asked slowly. I laughed and kissed him.
“Yeah, I’m good. It’s just…that’s so fucking cool. I’m so cool. I managed to pull my teacher. I’m like, a fuckin’ sex god, right?” I laughed, elated.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy.” He smiled, pulling me on top of him. My lips melted against his, his hands coming up to slide under my shirt.
“Gee.” I laughed, wiggling as he tried to lift my shirt up.
“What?” he pouted.
“Painting. Show me.” I said. He sighed and pecked me softly on the mouth.
“Okay!” he laughed, pushing me off of him and grabbing my hand, pulling me up. He put his hands softly over my eyes and kissed my neck as he walked me over to the canvas.
“Ready, sweetheart? Ready to see how I see you?” he murmured. My heart raced in my throat.
“Definitely. Show me.” I whispered. He took a breath before moving his hands.
“Oh…Gee.” I breathed. The actual drawing of me was beautiful. Instead of being detailed and perfect like his other drawings, it was drawn in a loose-hand almost comic-book style, with rough lines and edges that were too dark. It was organized chaos on the page, and it was definitely, undeniably me. He’d left my skin uncoloured, still white from the netural colour of the canvas, but he’d scribbled in my lips in red, lined my eyes in black, and had even included the scorpion on my neck. My clothing was completely black, and harsh red lines were emitting from my form, like an aura. Streaks of black and red seemed to run at each other seemingly randomly, colliding around me and encasing me in a blood red and coal black bubble. It was beautiful.
“Is this what I look like to you?” I giggled. He kissed below my ear.
“Yeah. This is what I see when I see you. Black and red.”
“Kinda sad colours, aren’t they?” I murmured. He grinned against my skin.
“No. I see red, like passion, like love. I see red in your mouth and in your eyes and in your touch, or the way you feel against me and…and inside me. Your touch is red.”
“And the black?” I whispered.
“Black is everything else. Black is everything that isn’t you. I see black as a reminder of what I’d be without you.” He said, his arms tightening around me. I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Why do I feel like my face is the least important part of this?” I giggled.
“On the contrary, my little miracle, your face is the most important. See how it’s the center of the whole page? It’s all about you; this piece of art, all the colours, my whole life. It’s just you. Only you.” He sighed, rocking his body up into me, sensually, rather than sexually.
“Do you draw all the guys you fuck?” I teased. He laughed and spun me around so I was facing him.
“Only the ones I plan on making mine for the rest of my life.”
“Is that a lot?”
“Oh yeah, almost every single one.” He joked, kissing the bridge of my nose softly.
“I’m so lucky.” I murmured. His smile faltered.
“No…you’re not. I’m lucky. I just wish I could be better for you.” He whispered, almost sadly.
“What are you talking about? You’re perfect.” I said, covering his hand with mine. He sighed, looking like he was debating something, before giving me a weak smile.
“I guess so, love.” He murmured.

Somehow - I couldn’t remember if he started it or I had - we ended up lying next to each other, holding eachother tightly, wearing nothing but our boxers. My cock was soft and uninterested in my underwear, and a quick glance told me that his was the same. This wasn’t about sex.
“I think I like your lips the best.” Gerard murmured, running his fingertips along my mouth, which I parted under his touch.
“Yeah?” I smiled. He kissed me, his lips barely brushing mine.
“Yeah, angel. They’re gorgeous.” He sighed. I brushed his cheekbone, just under his eye.
“Your eyes.”
“What about them?” he asked softly, smiling.
“They’re my favourite. They’re so beautiful and…expressive. You’re such an open book, and I love you for it.” I murmured. He shifted.
“Can you tell how I feel right now?” he asked softly, seeming nervous.
“Mhm. You’re…happy. You love me. I think you feel loved, but you’re kinda sad. Why are you sad?” I frowned.
“You’re good.” He smiled softly.
“Baby?”
“I just am. I’m always sort of sad. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, baby. I don’t want you to be sad or sorry.”
“I’m no good for you, Frankie.” He sighed, running his fingertips along my collarbone.
“Yeah you are. Gerard, I want you forever.” I said, feeling desperation building up in the back of my throat. He pulled me closer, and I saw tears shining in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t. You should want someone who can be the best for you. You shouldn’t have to settle for some broken old man.” He said weakly. I kissed him hard, trying to chase the sadness away.
“Never say that. I need you…” I breathed. He kissed my forehead.
“Mm. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“It’s fine, I’m not sad. I’m with you, so I’m happy.” I smiled. He ran a hand through my hair, just staring into my eyes.
“Where’s all this coming from, anyway? Is your therapy not working?” I asked softly. His breath hitched and he looked down.
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” I rolled us over so I was on top of him, my hands framing his face. I smirked.
“You’re too beautiful for words. I just…I look at you, and I can’t even contain how beautiful you are. I can’t believe I ever lived without you.” I sighed. He kissed my wrist softly.
“You didn’t always want me.” He murmured against my skin.
“I know. It’s crazy. I can’t think of a world where I could look at you and not…want you. I want you so much.”
“I want you too. Always.” He smiled. I chewed my lip, rolling onto my back.
“Hey, Gerard?”
“Yeah, angel?”
“Show me how to paint?” I murmured gently. He raised his eyebrows.
“You wanna paint?” he chuckled. I pouted.
“Why is that so weird to consider?” I said.
“Because I’ve seen your art. You’re shit.” He laughed. I sat up and turned away, pretending to be hurt, but he just dragged me back into his arms, holding me close to his chest.
“Sorry. I’ll show you, honey. Grab me a paint brush and a pot of red ink.” He said. I was suspicious, but did as he said. He showed me how to hold the brush, then closed his fingers over mine, bringing the pain close to him.
“I’ll be your canvas, okay? Just draw what you feel.” He murmured softly. I chuckled.
“Seriously? You want me to paint on you?” I said incredulously. He just nodded, his lips parting, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Paint.” He murmured. I brought the brush down onto his pale skin, and he flinched a little as the cold paint made contact with his warm skin.
“I can’t draw.” I murmured. A light smile made it’s way across his mouth.
“You don’t have to draw. Just paint.” He sighed. I let the brush move up his body, watching the way the harsh red stood out against the pure white. I flicked my wrist and the line curved around his chest, some of the paint splattering his neck, joining the splashes of black that had already claimed the skin there. I curved the brush down, sliding over his nipple. He whimpered and arched his back when I did that, his teeth sliding across his lip. I brought the brush down, making swirly patterns with the paint, watching as it decorated his skin.
“Can I use other colours?” I asked softly. He smiled.
“Of course.” He murmured. I reached for his paints, dipping the brush into some water before dipping it into the gold paint. This looked even better on his skin than the red had, shining slightly where the warm, June sun was hitting it.
“That feels good.” He giggled, his eyes still closed. I ran the brush up the length of his chest, bringing it up to his collarbones, and painting all the way up to his jaw, following its sharp curve with the gold.
“Can I… is this toxic?” I asked hesitantly. He laughed.
“Not unless I drink it.” He smiled. I brought the brush across his face, coating his bottom lip in gold, bringing the brush back down and drawing a large, ornate ‘F’ above his heart. I leaned back to admire my creation, and he smiled.
“I feel like a mess.” He said, looking down.
“You look beautiful.” I murmured. He looked up at me, pulling me into his arms.
“I’m gonna get messy.” I laughed, wiggling away from him. He held me hard.
“No, baby. This is how you make art.” He whispered, his voice hoarse, as he kissed me. I could taste the bitter, metallic taste of the paint in my mouth, but I let him kiss me anyway, feeling the paint smearing on my body where his was rubbing against mine.
“One sec.” he breathed. He reached back and grabbed the pot of blue paint, squirting it on my hands.
“What the fu-“
“Lather it.” He commanded, squirting a generous helping of green paint onto his hands. Sighing, I did as he said. He grinned.
“Now come here.” He said, pulling me forward by my arms. I realized quickly why he wanted to do this, when I saw his handprints left on my skin.
“Jesus, Gerard.” I laughed airily. He cupped my face, his hand sliding down my body, leaving a trail of green. I held onto his hips, almost smiling at the blue handmarks that were left behind. He pushed me down, leaving prints on my chest, and tangled his hands in my hair. I grinned
“It’s not gonna come out.” I sighed. He smirked.
“Good.” He whispered, pressing his skin against mine. I raked my hands down his back and he arched up into the touch, his hand resting heavily against my chest. I slid my hand down his side and into his boxers, rubbing his heavy, leaking cock gently. He whimpered and bucked up into me, leaning his head down to lick softly at my nipple. I gasped and arched up, watching the green handprints that were being left on my thighs. He bit down gently and I cried out, the hand on his forearm tightening.
“Gerard, I love you.” I whispered. He put his hands on either side of my face and kissed me deeply, smearing gold across my cheeks.
“Love me, Frank. Love me forever.” He gasped, rolling so I was on top of him. The bedsheets were absolutely covered in paint, but he didn’t seem to care as he arched up into my touch, turning his head away from me so I could press kisses to his neck.
“Cum on me.” He whispered.
“Oh, okay.” I gasped.
“Paint me, honey.” He smirked lightly. I let out a nervous chuckle as I stroked myself lazily, looking down at him. He was a mess of colours swirling across his pale skin, moulding into each other to create new colours entirely. There wasn’t an inch of his skin, except, perhaps, his face, that wasn’t completely covered in paint. His hands ran up my thighs as I fucked myself lazily into my fist, getting off on the way he writhed underneath me, his body marked by my hands. I whispered a curse as I came, the liquid shooting out onto the bundle of colours on his glowing white chest. He moaned softly, arching up to make sure it all hit him, and looking up at me through hooded eyes.
“You look gorgeous.” I whispered, watching as my cum slid down his chest and into the hollow of his pelvis. He laughed.
“You’re art, Frank. You’re so…” he just shook his head. I leaned down to kiss him, stroking his cheek.
“I guess I’m sort of an artist now, right?” I winked. He laughed.
“Yeah, baby. You probably wouldn’t get much money for me though.” He giggled. I raised my eyebrows and kissed his forehead.
“You, my love, aren’t for sale. You’re mine.” I smiled.
“Works for me, sugar.” He sighed contentedly.
“Do you want me to-“ I said, reaching for his dick, straining against his boxers. He shook his head, pulling me into his arms.
“No, I just wanna hold you. Is that alright, honey?” he murmured, kissing my head. I chuckled.
“More than okay. It’s perfect.” I sighed. He giggled, wiggling against me.
“We’re so gross. This was such a sexy idea, and now we’re just sticky and colourful and gross.” He sighed.
“We can get a shower in a minute.” I murmured sleepily into his shoulder.
“I like how you said that casually, and you’re actually really excited about it.” He teased. I peered up at him.
“You mean you’ll do it?” I breathed. He kissed me.
“Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, angel.” He sighed, stroking my cheek.
“I want you.”
“You got it, honey.” He smirked.

He helped me into the shower like I’d never been in one before.
“Damn, Gee, I know how to take a shower.” I grumbled. He laughed, wrapping his arms around me.
“I just don’t want you to fall.” He murmured, pulling us both under the warm spray. Almost immediately, the colours dripped off of us, staining the water different colours. We watched as they ran down the sink, and I was almost sad to see them go. He tangled his hands in my hair, rubbing it and coaxing the colours out, watching as they slid down my skin.
“You’re breathtaking.” He smiled. I leaned forward and kissed him, watching out of the corner of my eye as our colours slid down the drain. It was probably symbolic in some way, but I was too busy kissing the love of my life to notice.
“Might dye my hair again.” He laughed, kissing my jaw.
“Yeah? What colour?”
“Like, blonde. I’ll just cut it all off and dye it blonde.” He giggled. I smiled, brushing his wet hair back from his face.
“If you wanna. I’d think you were beautiful no matter what.” I said. He wrapped his arms around my waist and sighed happily.
“I want you to be proud of me, Frankie. I want you to look at me and say “hey, that’s my husband.”” He murmured against my skin. Then he froze.
“Husband?” I said, grinning slowly.
“I…it just came out.” He said, blushing. I bit my lip and laughed.
“You said husband.” I repeated.
“Let it go.” He groaned.
“Say it again.” I urged him.
“W-what? That I want you to marry me, so I can come home every day and kiss my husband on the fucking mouth to shut him up because he’s an asshole?” he said sweetly. I giggled.
“Yeah, that.” I sighed, resting my head on his chest.
“Hmm. Okay.” He chuckled.
“When you gonna ask me to marry you for real?” I asked, suddenly brave. He sighed, cupping my cheek.
“Not in the shower, that’s for sure. I’m gonna do it, I promise. I just want it to be the right time, okay?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to change your mind.” I murmured. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I won’t. I couldn’t.” he vowed. He seemed slightly on-edge about something.
“What’s wrong, Gerard? There’s something you’re not telling me.” I breathed. He took a deep breath.
“Frank…I didn’t want to tell you this, because I thought things were gonna be better, but they’re not. I’ve been too scared to tell you until now, but, I-“
He was cut off by Mikey banging on the bathroom door, demanding that we get out. Gerard cursed under his breath and slid out of the shower before I had time to ask him to continue.

For the rest of the night, if I asked him what he was going to say, he dismissed it, smiling, and changed the topic. Even Mikey was starting to get suspicious, but he didn’t cut in at all.
“Gerard, you can’t keep hiding things from me.” I sighed as he pulled up outside my house. He leaned in and kissed me softly, his hand caressing my cheek.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, and I wasn’t. I’ll tell you when I…can.” He sighed.
“Is it bad?” I asked slowly. He just pursed his lips, looking away from me. I held his hand and kissed him again.
“I trust you, and I love you. Goodnight, Gerard.” I sighed against his mouth. He leaned in to deepen the kiss, but I was already sliding out of the car, my heart hammering in my chest, and dread settling in my bones.

Notes

Did someone order cute artist fluff/smut with a side of gross forshadowing? <3