I'll Keep Licking 'Till Your Flavour Is Gone

How is this supposed to begin? Our story starts way before you'd think or would like to think, for that matter, thus making the information hard to comprehend. A strong beginning. With every good beginning, comes a good middle, and an even better ending. But, however, there is an exception to every rule.

We shall start this with a boy named Gerard. I assume you are quite familiar with that name, correct? No? Then why are you here reading this twisted tragedy? Curiosity killed the cat, young kitten. Anywho, Gerard Way was about sixteen when he came face to face with his current master, but, at the time, he had no idea that this boy before him would ever come to abuse him. Gerard was a mischievous one, his coal black hair constantly hid the thoughtful glow of his eyes. The authority basically had his parents on speed dial. "Dear Mrs. Way," was a stamp on his principal's desk. He had been thrown into and out of a disciplinary school. This was all besides the point of how he met his lover. It was at a concert when they met. Both of them where smoking cigarettes (underaged) at the gates of the outside stage, Gerard combing his hair back with his fingers. The other boy before him was Frank. Gerard had thought nothing of people around him (especially the two people right next to him basically devouring each other's tongues), as he puffed on his clove cigarette. All he thought of was the red hair dye he had back home, and how it had his name all over it. He had been smoking for two months, now, and cloves were his favourite so far. Gerard was lost in the flavour of smoke and music, the gaze being shot his way meaning nothing to him. You see, Gerard never paid attention. At all. If knives where being glared into him, he wouldn't give a single fuck whatsoever. People disagreeed with his ways, and he couldn't care less. He adjusted his one size too big skinny jeans by pulling them up, putting out his clove by smashing it against the fence that supported his weight. That's when Gerard was caught in the middle of a stare off with a gentleman with hazel eyes and brown hair. Here, he met Frank Iero. Gerard, you see, normally would've shot a grimace back to the person boring their eyes into his soul, but that action seemed repulsive to Gerard, causing him to return the stare. Frank - the mysterious boy, as Gerard was thinking (at the time) - lost his straight face, a grin forming on his pale lips as he pulled out a Marlboro. In Frank's favour, Gerard smiled back and held his Zippo lighter out to the cigarette in his mouth. The grey smoke made Frank's pasty features look more sinister, the yellow light from the stage making his eyes shimmer when it caught his sight in the settling night. Gerard was quick with his action, taking every muscle in his body not to giggle. Nothing felt awkward as he pulled his lighter away, and Gerard assumed it was due to the nothing but breaths escaping their lips. Frank grabbed Gerard's wrist quickly, pulling it up to his eyes.

"Is that the Misfits symbol?" Frank questioned, holding his stress reliever in his teeth. Gerard thought the way his deep voice pierced through the loud music was extraordinary, in a sense. As a dead silence of words fell again, Frank raised an eyebrow and took the Zippo from Gerard, letting the boy about his heigt's wrist fall to their side. He flicked it open a few times, observing the blue flame. Frank then slipped it into his pocket. Wrong move on Frank's part. Gerard growled, stomping on the other boy's foot and snatching his lighter (whilst scratching Frank's thigh roughly as he grabbed it) all while Frank winced.

"Yes, it is," Gerard responded, turning to walk back into the gate, "and it's mine." He disappeared from sight, but not for long, however.

A bad introduction from me, your torture expert and story teller, and in which means I apologize. Now, let's move onto Frank Iero. I'm itching to tell you his thoughts.

You see, Frank has seen Gerard around for quite sometime. He's noticed Gerard's innocent features on such a sinister boy. The gray eyes that seemed to seize any negative reaction to the boy at first glance. Frank took interest in this. He wanted to see what he could do to Gerard that would make the mischievous boy bend and writhe into the innocence he displayed. Frank knew the right moves. As bad as it sounds, he truly did, and he wanted to test all of them onto Gerard. Frank cursed to himself every time he ruined his chance to talk with Gerard - in which, happened frequently. But, he had picked up notes on what to discuss. Music. Cigarettes - Frank specifically made note Gerard's favorites, clove. Gerard frequently discussed what he'd like to do with his life, so Frank thought that'd help, too. The list goes on and on. It's, truthfully and embarrassing as it sounds, had been a year that Frank took interest in Gerard. Frank knew where he lived, his schedule at school, etc. Now, they stood outside a Pantera concert, smoking a cigarette. Frank took spot next to a couple deep in each other's lips to the left of Gerard, not wanting to face him just yet. He watched from the break between the fence and the moaning mess next to him Gerard swoop his longish hair out of his face. The sight would've been remarkable if he hadn't caught glimpse of the couple beside him tugging at their shirts. He moved to across in an angle from Gerard in the smoking area, his gaze eyeing the beauty sideways in front of him. The lights from stage shined on Gerard as they circled, making his ghostly white skin glisten. Frank glared, and knew that Gerard would snarl when he noticed his crow on his shoulder as he turned. Frank was wrong. Gerard shot a stare back, a weird move. This was a success, Frank thought as he pulled a smirk and clenched a Marlboro in his teeth. In his head, it was almost a cheesy Halmark movie. Almost. Gerard must've known what Frank was thinking because he held a Zippo out to Frank. Frank had plans for Gerard, and it wasn't until the awkward wrist grab and Gerard walking away that he knew how to execute them.

Let's cut back to Gerard who had just got a beer from his group of older friends. His mind paced back to the boy that tried to take his absolute-fucking-favourite lighter in the world. Who the fuck does he think he is? Gerard hardly ever let's anyone touch his Misfits Zippo. If they do, they'll be bound and gagged, draped and displayed. The reference was, indeed, how Gerard felt about this. Gerard sipped on the beer, laughing as his brother, Mickey, tried to make a mosh pit. He failed, nether the less. Gerard was then handed a flask by one of his friends.

"What is this?" He questioned, sniffing the concoction. He grimaced at it, the alcoholic smell strong. He shrugged and took a sip, loosing his balance at the strong punch it gave. Needless to say, Gerard wouldn't remember the rest of that night.

Gerard still wonders what happened that night, although he has a good idea of it. He had awoken in his bed with three cuts on one shoulder and a busted lip. He didn't know what was in the drink. He never will. It was drugged. He can't be for sure who drugged it, but he can be almost certain it was Frank. In fact, although Gerard does not know this, yet, it was Frankie. Frank had been hanging out with Gerard's friend when they agreed on getting him drunk. Frank knew he could have his fun with this. He could finally make Gerard bend to his every move! He didn't that night, but he did have fun watching Gerard stammer down the streets in a drunken stupor. Frank was anxious but he had to befriend Gerard first, he knew.

Frank, during those teenage times, knew he wanted more than a relationship with Gerard. He wanted ruthless sex that would leave Gerard scattered. He didn't crave Gerard with the soul - but, he must admit, Gerard was very interesting - but with his body he craved touching and leaving that ghostily white skin bruised. He's almost eighteen and these where the things he planned and touched himself to. He knew Gerard's weak points. For example, bring up his artwork and he'd forget nearly everything. He knew what ticked Gerard off. For example, touching what was his (especially his Misfits Zippo). He knew Gerard's relationship status and sexuality. Straight and taken. He knew he'd have to change that. Frank loved how Gerard spoke, and how many shits he failed to give. Frank wanted Gerard. And Frank gets shat he wants. One way or another.

Well, here we are in the present. Two bodies lay under cum splattered satin, the dense air clogging the throat of the one with deep bruises. Oh? You thought I'd give away those dirtly, evil plans? Baby steps, young kitten.

Notes

Ello!!! Welllllll I don't know. My first MCR fan fiction so... Enjoy!

Chapter title - Scream by Avenged Sevenfold