Polaroids

“You haven’t put that thing down once since you unwrapped it,” Gerard says, grinning as Frank smiles at him from behind the camera. Frank had said, nearly five years ago when they first met, that one of his fondest childhood memories was off his family’s old polaroid camera, which was brought out once a year, explicitly for taking photos of Christmas presents. Gerard had tucked that memory aside, and waited for when he felt that they would start to need it.

Seeing as how Frank can’t keep a secret for the life of him, Gerard figured that when Frank proposed on Christmas would be a good time for said camera. Gerard has known about the ring since probably before Frank had even thought up the idea himself. And Gerard, being a giant marshmallow and a mess, has been over the moon ecstatic about it since Frank, in a very cliché way, confirmed his suspicions by the tree.

“What can I say?” Frank replies, “I love you in that dress.” Frank snaps another photo, taking it when it comes out and waving it off to speed up the development. He sets the polaroid down in the pile of probably about ten already on the duvet.

Gerard decided to get all dolled up for Frank, because what else is there to do on New Year’s Eve? Sure you can watch the ball drop or have a party or do something else as equally as fantastic, but Gerard has never much been fond of large crowds, and Frank doesn’t drag him anywhere he doesn’t want to be if he can help it. Frank’s sometimes too good of a person.

For Frank’s sacrifice, in return he gets the fishnet stockings that he’s been raving about seeing Gerard in for months. And the heels that could kill a man. And the cherry red lipstick like velvet, so deep and soft. And most especially the red dress that Frank worships so very much.

“What’re you gonna do with all those pictures?”

“Probably sell them to the Smithsonian,” Frank says, shrugging.

“You’re gonna sell pictures of me in a dress to the Smithsonian?”

“I’d pay big bucks for them,” Frank replies.

“You’re the only one.”

“I really doubt that,” Frank replies, turning to check the clock. They have twenty more minutes. Twenty minutes left of 2015.

Gerard thinks that he’s steadily been achieving more and more as the years go by. Six years ago, Gerard was moving along slower than he is now. Frank puts his life into a higher gear. Frank isn’t exactly essential to his life, Gerard knows he could live without the guy, he’d be depressed, but he could go on. But when Frank is there, it’s like everything Gerard does in life counts for more. It makes bigger waves. Frank makes his life more exciting. He makes it a million times better. And really, that’s enough of an achievement in Gerard’s eyes.

“Turn around,” Frank says.

“I’m not a model,” Gerard replies.

“You could try.”

Gerard looks at the impish look on Frank’s face and he can’t say no to him. He just can’t. Frank could ask him to help hide a body and Gerard would ask him if he needs to buy a new shovel.

“Ah fuck,” Frank sighs. “You really make that dress your bitch.”

“It’s all in the hips,” Gerard says, spinning back to face Frank, whose face is doing nothing to hide how this is getting to him. Frank, can occasionally be like a simple monkey. It’s just eat, sleep, sex. Occasionally, he can be more like a character from a George R. R. Martin novel. Just sex, sex, sex, murder, sex.

“You need to stop that,” Gerard says, the sound of the camera snapping following his words a second later.

“Stop what?”

“Drooling,” Gerard replies.

“Not possible.”

“Well how about you stop taking pictures then?” Gerard asks as Frank waits for the new one to develop in his hand.

“But I want to memorialize the moment.”

“You have a brain that is perfectly good at remembering things. What did you have for breakfast Frank?”

“Cereal.”

“There you go, remembered. You can remember this to.”

“Not the way a photo can,” Frank responds.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” Gerard says, “how about you stop taking pictures so that you can stop fantasizing what it’s gonna be like when you fuck me, and instead, you can actually do it.”

“This is a tempting proposition,” Frank says.

“Put the camera down then,” Gerard orders, and when your lips are as red as the blood of men, you have a way of getting people to do what you ask of them. Especially one who’s already starting to get lightheaded because his blood flow is directed in all ways south of his brain.

Frank, being the smart cookie he is, quickly gathers up the polaroids from the bedspread, and throws them on the bedside table, along with the camera.

“You always make the right decisions in the end,” Gerard smiles, walking over to the side of the bed, where Frank is too greedy, and thinks he gets to touch. “I don’t think so.”

“But-” Frank asks, taking his hand back, with those big brown eyes. Those eyes, holding galaxies and black holes, universes and lives, all wound in sin and guised by the dulcet color of amaretto.

“Here’s how things are gonna work,” Gerard says, “You do what I say. You touch when I say you get to touch. Got that?”

Frank nods, being the good listener that he is.

“Good,” Gerard replies, “after all, there’s no way I’m letting us go into the new year with you thinking you’re the boss. I may be the one in the dress, and in the stockings, and I know you’re thinking about what I’ve got underneath that, but don’t you think for one second that that means you’re in charge.”

“Fuck,” Frank whispers before Gerard grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him into a kiss. It’s one of those, hungry, out for blood, swallow your tongue kinds of kisses, the ones with little to no love behind them, replaced only by pure and unadulterated lust. It’s not the most elegant of kisses, but it’ll go down in history. Most of Gerard and Frank’s kisses do.

Gerard decides when to pull away, and he leaves Frank leaning forward, expecting more but not receiving. He’s got red stains on his mouth and on his chin, and Gerard probably has them too. Lipstick tends to do that. But Frank, kinky little Frank, he couldn’t be less opposed to it.

But oh how hard it is not to comply to every word, because from that man, Frank cannot refuse. To Frank, Gerard’s words are covered in syrup, delicate, honest, sweet, and most of all rich, unyielding.

Gerard puts a leg on the bedspread, at the wrong angle for Frank to look up his skirt, which is by design of course. Then, as if to torture Frank, he starts to pull the stocking down, and for some reason that’s sexier than anything else in the world. It’s slow, agonizingly slow, but Gerard pulls first one leg down as far as it’ll go, and then the next, kicking the heels off when he finally gets the stockings down and pulls them off.

“All you wanna know is what I’ve got under this dress,” Gerard says, words melting in Frank ears.

“Think silk,” Gerard’s voice drips, making Frank ache. Frank groans from the weight of it, making Gerard’s smile turn venomous.

“Black silk,” Gerard says, further sending Frank’s thoughts down below where even he can’t comprehend. His thoughts are in hell and so is his soul, but it is so damningly worth it. Literally.

Gerard, would it ever be demanded of him to describe that name in one sentence, would be one that no mix of words, in any order they may ever be thought to be placed, can accurately describe, Frank thinks. The only way to even come close is to say that Gerard is like warm cocoa by a fire. He is like that decadent, unholy slice of chocolate cake that you’ve been daydreaming about all day. He is the light from a firefly, blinking in your window as you’re drawn to sleep by the thought of summer. Gerard is all the things too good for words, he is all the simple things that make life worth living.

Gerard is the only one that can make Frank purr when all he really wants to do is tear Gerard to shreds, make him feel all there is to feel and more. Frank wants to put so much love and adoration and passion and all other good things into him that could allow Gerard to fly.

Gerard himself is black silk in all of its wonders. He’s mysterious and deep, like the color it holds. He’s soft and primp as its purpose. He’s dirty, almost pornographic in its design, and he’s hypnotic in its nature.

“But that’s for another time,” Gerard finishes, at last, getting his knees on the bed, almost as if to crawl to Frank, but he is far too good for that. Instead, all he needs is a finger, one long, pale, beckoning finger, and its Frank who comes crawling to him.

“You are so easy,” Gerard says, stopping Frank inches only away from his face, feeling the man panting on his chin, agonizing over want and need.

“Only for you,” Frank replies.

“Don’t I know it,” Gerard says, loving his absolute control. His hold on Frank is so strong, and Gerard doesn’t even need to lay a finger on him for that grip to be there. Gerard does however, grab his chin and pull him closer, needing to kiss him, greedy for it.

Gerard pushes him back, throws him against the bed with his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. Gerard gets a leg around him, and he can feel Frank practically poking a hole in his jeans. It’s actually verging on a point that seems like it would be painful.

“Horny and cute,” Gerard says, “that’s a great combination.”

“Sexy, pale, lipstick, panties,” Frank says, “that’s a combination that you really can’t beat either.”

“Mm, don’t forget pretty,” Gerard reminds him.

“So pretty. Almost too pretty to mention.”

“I never tire of hearing it.”

Frank puts his hands on Gerard’s hips, a move that Gerard immediately notices, and he recalls saying that Frank doesn’t get to touch without permission.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gerard asks, looking at the hand on his hip and frowning.

“Sorry, fuck,” Frank says, taking his hands back swiftly. Gerard makes a tisking sound and considers what he should do.

“Frank, you know better.”

“I just can’t help but put my hands all over my hot as fuck fiancé.”

“You’re going to have to try,” Gerard says, whispering into his ear, and making Frank turn a white color like he’s literally got no more blood in circulation. Gerard eyes him for a few seconds, thinking, imagining, wanting, and reading Frank’s mind through the expression on his face. He’s so easy to read when he’s got a boner. He’s like a children’s book, he’s all pictures, you don’t even need words to figure out the store.

“Shirt,” Gerard demands, and Frank needs no more information than that to take the shirt, off, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. Gerard loves Frank’s tattoos more than he could ever put into words. It’s like Frank’s his own museum, artwork on display, but only private showings are permitted, for Gerard alone. It makes him feel special, especially knowing that half of them were put there to impress him.

Frank loves to impress Gerard. It’s an addiction of his. He’s gone through so many sacks of flour just trying to impress Gerard with the ability to throw pizza dough in the air. Most of them ended disastrously, but Gerard was more amused by the time it landed directly on Frank’s head then the time he actually succeeded.

“What do you want to do to me right now?” Gerard prompts, Frank whining after him.

“Everything,” Frank replies.

“Why do you think you deserve it?”

“I don’t,” Frank says, “I’ll never deserve it. But I still want it.”

“Good answer,” Gerard nods, and reaches over to the nightstand. He does so love living with the person he has sex with because this way when you invite someone into your room to do the do and what not, they don’t judge you for your haphazard storage of the lube right on top of the nightstand, in plain sight. When you leave it next to your bed in college and your roommate comes in, things get a little awkward, but no, this is much easier. That and you also get to live with the person you want to have sex with all the time, and if you want to have sex with them that much, then you sure as hell are in love with them. Sex is fun and all but with the same person over and over, it can get tedious if you don’t love that person more than life itself.

Frank knows that Gerard is too good for him. And likewise, Gerard knows Frank is too good for him. One could question this as it seems impossible for two people to be too good for each other, as one would have to assume that one would have to at the end of the day be better than the other, but even despite that, the fact remains the same. They’re both too good for each other, which is not in fact an anomaly of reason but rather a testament to just how fucking perfect for each other they are.

“I love you to death you know,” Frank gasps as Gerard kisses him relentlessly.

“Good to know,” he replies, “take off your pants.”

Frank does so, kicking them off somehow even with Gerard straddling him, making the hard bulge in his underwear very clear.

“You wanna feel them don’t you, Frank?” Gerard whispers, “want to know what the silk feels like? Want to feel it between your fingers.”

“Oh god yes,” Frank says, practically dripping from sweat already, and they haven’t even done anything yet. He’s all worked up, practically cumming in his underwear and it’s all on the suspense of it all. Frank used to credit himself as a very well-contained, persistent man, but he is literally so easy with Gerard, half of the time he feels as though they don’t even need to do anything for it to be enough for Frank. Seriously, Frank didn’t even cum in his pants during high school, but Gerard has been able to change that record simply with his words.

“Touch me then, Frankie. Feel it. Find out if it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed,” Gerard murmurs and Frank is going to absolutely lose himself.

He gets his hand up the dress, feels Gerard’s thigh, perfect to him, and if Frank could see Gerard’s legs under that dress, he’d probably lose himself bruising those pristine white thighs he loves so much. And Gerard wasn’t kidding, Frank determines. The panties are silk, soft and smooth, the softest consistency in the world, aside maybe from Gerard’s hair, which is in all honesty, more fun to tug on. The fronts a bit damp from precum, and Frank is running out of ways to get more turned on. Soon he is going to up an implode on himself from how much he wants to fuck Gerard into the mattress.

Frank can’t even stop himself from biting right at the nape of Gerard’s neck, where it hurts, but the good way. The way that makes a quivering mess out of even the most composed. And oh does Gerard cry out at that, losing it for just a moment, as his hair falls into his face and he takes a sharp gasp, already choking on what to say next.

“Little fucker,” Gerard groans, “you don’t get to do that without asking.”

“May I?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank replies.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Gerard says, thinking quick. He scoots himself up Frank’s body, so that he’s now practically sitting on Frank’s chest, and pulls the dress up, thinking that if Frank is going to insist on breaking the rules, well then he’ll need to be punished for it. He pulls the panties to the side, not necessarily wanting to take them off yet, just wanting them to free him for now.

Frank can feel the clock counting down the new year slowly, as he anticipates what’s about to happen. His mouth is forced open and Gerard’s cock is slammed in, not that Frank would have argued. Or at least he wouldn’t have until it hits the back of his throat, nearly choking him, but Frank just can’t muster up the will to care, because honestly, what a way to go that would be. Death by cock, he’d be a legend.

Gerard’s not really thinking. His mind doesn’t really function when he’s got his dick in Frank’s mouth, and also, he’s not really used to being this dominant, especially not when he’s wearing a dress. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it, he’s just not totally sure what he’s doing.

When Frank looks like he might be choking though, Gerard shows restraint, tries to pull out, but Frank, well Frank just follows, doesn’t let Gerard get away. He continues to blow him until he starts to make Gerard moan, which is what he really wants anyway. Gerard’s one of those loud, make the neighbors hear sort of types, and he also has this really high pitched, girly sort of moan, so if you were to listen from the door, you would probably not be able to tell that there’s two dudes in there.

Gerard manages to pull Frank off, but not because Frank’s in any danger, but because Gerard’s too close to cumming.

“God you’re good at that,” Gerard groans, pulling his dress back down, which leaves a very suspicious looking bulge there that does make the dress look a little peculiar.

“I fucking love you,” Frank groans, looking at Gerard with complete adoration. He loves everything. He loves the hazel eyes with the pupils so blown they’re practically black. He loves the way Gerard’s hair gets in his own face, and how he doesn’t brush it away. He loves how hungry for it Gerard looks like he’s going to explode.

“Fuck off,” Gerard groans, grabbing the lube he’d set on the bedspread. He goes back to straddling Frank’s waist, refusing to make eye contact as his hands trace down from his neck down to his stomach and lower. Gerard doesn’t even bother to pull Frank’s boxers off, just pulls them down enough to expose his erection, pumping it a few times which makes Frank squeak.

“Easy,” Gerard says, teasing him.

“Fuck,” Frank closes his eyes tight, thinking that if he looks at Gerard one more time he’ll cum on the spot, and that would just make all this build up seem pointless. He hears the cap on the bottle open, and hears the squelching sound as Gerard pours some into his hand.

Frank sort of tunes out the way it feels as Gerard lathers his cock in the lube because honestly he needs his entire concentration not to explode. This isn’t going to last long and they both know it, but it’ll be good while it lasts at the very least.

Frank does however open his eyes to watch as Gerard slips a few fingers into himself, because honestly there’s nothing quite as attractive as that. It’s Gerard at his weakest, which still says nothing to how much Frank still complies. He’s vulnerable, and Frank could overpower him right now if he wanted, but he’s not going to do that. He doesn’t want to ruin the fun he’s having.

Gerard aligns himself over Frank, not even really all that intent on Frank, more focused on finally getting Frank inside him.

At last, Gerard sinks down onto Frank, desperate for it, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t just fuck Frank like there’s no tomorrow. And Frank is no idiot, he knows that even if he’s not the one bottoming, he’s still not in charge. Gerard knows how to take control, even in that red dress.

Gerard’s moan is long, sharp, and small, his voice barely there, and he’s not in control of the sound either. It’s one of those sounds that you can’t help, they just come from your mouth without you dictating them. Gerard’s head falls back too as he sinks down on Frank, his eyes closing, somewhere in his mind he’s lost on an island of bliss and ecstasy.

Frank whines, like a puppy waiting for food, he just can’t help how he feels for Gerard. It feels amazing, honestly, Gerard’s body feels warm and not as tight as he would’ve expected, but Gerard’s probably been thinking about this all day, all week maybe. Frank sounds so completely beaten, like the small noise is all he can muster. He is so absolutely fucked out already.

“God,” Gerard gasps, bottoming out. Gerard and Frank have done this probably somewhere getting into four digits and yet, it feels like it’ll never get old. It probably won’t. At least not for Frank, he’s a horny little fucker. Gerard would probably give up sex forever if he had to choose between sex and comic books. Actually, Gerard wouldn’t ‘probably’ give sex up in that situation, he would definitely give it up. Frank would give up food in a situation that came to sex or food.

That’s not to say that Gerard doesn’t adore being fucked senseless, because he absolutely does, but at the end of the day, as long as he has both Frank and the X-men, he couldn’t care less.

Gerard barely hesitates before he starts to fuck himself over Frank, hardly even needing any time to adjust before he’s already speeding up and making Frank feel as though he’s going to scream out.

There’s nothing, in Frank’s opinion, that looks more obscene than Gerard does right now. He looks absolutely amazing, but if he had his camera, this image would be too dirty for anyone. Gerard’s lipstick is smeared around his mouth, and sweat is sticking is hair to his forehead. He’s got black silk caught between his body and Frank’s, and his dress is pulled up and left carelessly dangling to reveal Gerard’s flush, leaking cock.

Frank makes a guttural, desperate plea, to Gerard, a small choked “please” which Gerard doesn’t really understand, but he doesn’t say no. Frank can’t help but grip Gerard’s hips though. He needs to. He needs to hold onto his hips, help Gerard keep his balance, because the hands splayed across Frank’s chest can’t provide much help. That, and he wants to leave little marks in the skin there, small enough that they’ll fade soon, but enough that Gerard will be able to feel Frank’s nails digging into the skin.

Gerard bends over, low enough for his forehead to fall against Frank’s. They’re both sweaty, and it’s an awkward angle, but Frank doesn’t care. Gerard’s eyes are closed delicately, but his moans are relentless, and when Frank can hear them from this up close and personal, he might die from it all. This is just too good. Too perfect, too celestial. Too sinful, too passionate. It’s all Frank wants, and when he’s here, looking at Gerard, he thinks that this is all he was ever destined for anyway. Just this animal like lust that’s driving him up the wall.

Frank steals a kiss or two from Gerard, removing one of his hands on Gerard’s hip to hold the back of his neck, pull him down. They’re quick and thoughtless kisses, but they’re as good as any others. Gerard’s lips were made for Frank to kiss.

Gerard’s isn’t much of a talker when he’s being fucked, so Frank isn’t all that surprised when all he really says are “god” and “Frank” a few times mixed in with some swears. Frank isn’t really aware of whether or not he himself is being loud at all, because he’s not in control of it if he is.

“Gonna,” Frank mutters, and that’s all he has the will to say. Gerard pulls off of him, mostly so that he can get a hand on Frank’s cock. He always cums faster that way, Gerard’s not sure why, but that’s just how Frank is. Gerard barely even has to do anything however before Frank releases, his back arching the slightest bit and his face tearing apart in ecstasy. Gerard jacks him through it before Frank starts whining from oversensitivity.

At that, Gerard grasps himself and Frank’s still coming down from his own orgasm to help, but it only takes a couple of seconds anyway. Gerard cums with a quiet little ‘ah’ that Frank is only barely aware of.

Gerard collapses, breathing heavily as he falls into the crook of Frank’s neck.

There they lie for maybe one minute or maybe ten. Time doesn’t exist anymore, it’s just them in all of the universe. Billions of people on the planet, and only Gerard and Frank exist. Just them panting, a muddled mess of limbs.

They’re kind of gross, sweat and cum sticking everywhere, and in ten minutes one of them will get up and they’ll tidy up but that’s not important now. What is important is that Frank finally recovers enough to look at Gerard, making eye contact full of love and contentment.

“Hey Frankie,” Gerard says, lifting his head up enough to look at the clock, and then adjusting his head to use Frank’s shoulder as a pillow, and making Frank feel as though he’s got everything in the world. In reality, he does. Gerard is his world, so he’s got everything he’ll ever need right here.

“What?” Frank asks, voice sounding small and worn out.

“Happy new year,” Gerard replies, and kisses him sweetly for only a second before putting his head back. Frank smiles gleefully, because this is really all he can ask for from the new year anyway.

Frank reaches over to the bed side table, and grabs his camera. Gerard doesn’t even get the opportunity to pause before Frank snaps a picture of him, messy haired, with lipstick everywhere with that peaceful look on his face, unaware that Frank was about to take a picture. Frank takes the photo and waits for it, grinning wildly when he sees Gerard’s face start to develop in the polaroid.

Maybe Gerard thinks he can remember everything, but memorializing this picture itself is a deed he’s going to thank himself for every year until he dies, he just knows. Gerard looks simply amazing, which is what Frank had expected, but he looks as though he was made to be photographed.

“Happy new year,” Frank replies finally, knowing with certainty that this year, like every other year spent with Gerard, will turn out to be the best year of his life.

Notes

Please leave a comment, it means a lot to me if you do! Happy new year to everyone, I hope 2016 is awesome!