Just look over your shoulder

Chapter 10
I wake up to the feeling of someone’s stare burning into my scalp and when I peek one eye open, I see a grinning Gerard sitting cross-legged next to me. I smirk to myself in amusement over his excitement but pull the pillow over my head anyways in hopes to get a few more minutes of sleep. I worked till late at night yesterday to prepare the last things I need for today because today is a very big day for us.
A little while ago, Gerard brought up a topic that immediately caught my interest. As you know, I’m pretty into the idea that Gerard sometimes, in certain situations, looks and behaves a lot like a girl. One evening, he told me that he sometimes wondered how he might have looked like if he was born a girl, and that lead to me filing out a plan.
I told him that I had been working on new colors for him for a while now, and, sure, the actual use was for his drawings, but when I saw his eyes light up in understanding, I knew that we had the same thing in mind. Make-Up.
I started working on different colors and substances right after that to get the best possible product. Of course, I’m no specialist when it comes to this topic, but I remember that I often watched mother get ready in the mornings when she was getting ready for work or late in the evening, when Nanna came over to babysit me and Gerard when our parents went out for dinner, so I have a fair idea how some of the stuff looks like.
I used resin, grounded shells and coconut wax and oil for texture and dried seaweed and blossoms for color. It took a while, and I had a lot of the things hidden down in the basement so Gerard wouldn’t find them, but now I have a whole assembly of self-made white nail polish, red lipstick, and brown..eye powder, or whatever that stuff is called, bronze powder for the cheeks and even some black color for the eyelashes.
I hope it works out the way I want it to.
For clothing, I made a new top out of the brown leather rag that we had lying around for ages now and turned one of the white linen cloths into a wrap-skirt. The top has thin shoulder straps and ends just over the belly-button because A, there wasn’t enough leather left and B, I thought the look would suit him very much. The skirt is longer on one side and needs to be tied right over the left hip.
I also collected shells and flowers for new jewelry and even managed to make a hairband for a ponytail.
I showed all of this to my brother when I had it all done late last night and when he grinned sheepishly at me, I knew that he was just as excited about this as I was. And yeah, I know that we’re totally going after social standards and clichés for girls here, especially with the choice of make-up, and we’re both no big fans of that, but in this case, we can bend the rules.
“Come on Mikes, get up!” Gerard squeaks and tickles my shoulder when I burrow my face into the pillow.
How can I resist him when he’s so excited about something?
“I’m up, I’m up. Jesus,” I chuckle and sit up to stretch my arms and back. My foot is getting better every day and I’m in big hopes that in a few weeks, I can walk without the help of the crutches again. It’s been nearly two months since the accident after all.
When I look at Gerard after rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, my heart does a flip, just like it does most mornings when I wake up next to him. He sits there all casual in just underwear, long strands of dark hair an absolute mess and he’s chewing on his fingernails while he grins gorgeously at me.
“Hey,” I say quietly and stroke over his hair. In return, he stops the chewing and turns his head to give a quick peck on my wrist.
“Ready to make me pretty?” he asks and smiles hugely at me when I nod with an equally big smile.
“Not that it’s necessary, of course,” I say and sit back when he stops me from getting up. I look at him in question and then let my lips curl into an amused smirk when he says, “You know what? This isn’t thaaat important right now, I mean, we could smooch for a while now and then..-“
“First things first, Gee, c’mon we agreed on this,” I say and have to stifle a giggle when he pulls a face.
He lifts his hands over his head and says, “Fine, fine,” before sighing dramatically and getting up and then helping me get up as well.
I’m trying not to let it show as I get dressed, but on the inside, I’m beaming. I love how much he’s over me lately. He’s always around now, he lets me be close to him whenever he I feel like it and I do the same in return. Maybe it’s just because I still need a lot of help thanks to my broken foot, but I don’t think that’s just it. I think he really, truly enjoys it. And that makes me incredibly happy.
I also like that it brings him joy and apparently also pride when we’re ‘smooching’, as he just put it out there kindly. I know smooching is just a codeword for making out but it’s still cute. Most mornings, when we wake up at the same time and we’re too lazy to really do anything, we just grind lazily against each other until we both come. It’s a nice technique we figured out a couple of weeks ago and it’s a wonderful way to start the day if you ask me.
After getting dressed and eating a quick breakfast with Gerard on the beach, it’s finally time to get started.
We made ourselves comfortable outside next to the stairs where the sun is yet not reaching thanks to the early time of the day. I made him sit across from me and put the basket with everything I need next to me.
“Okay,” I say and take the hairbrush out of the basket. “Make-Up is first but let me just brush your hair back, yeah?”
He smiles and gives me thumbs up.
“Do you actually know how to do this?” he asks when I replace the brush with the first container of color in my hands.
“Nope, no idea,” I say and crawl closer to him until I’m sitting with my knees touched to his. Then I get up in a kneeling position and tip his head back a little so I have better access.
“Let’s just find out, shall we?” I say promising and tip the brush I made out of thin feathers, a stick and some yarn, into the dark brown powder that hopefully works as eyeshadow. Then I ask him to close his eyes and without even protesting or teasing me, he does. In fact, as soon as I touch the first light brush of the feathers to his eye, he seems like a completely different person. Throughout the entire process, if me applying the color to his eyes, he’s very still and even seems concentrated, like he’s soaking it all in so he can memorize the feeling of it to write about it later.
When I think I’m done with the eye powder, I lean back a little and ask Gerard to open his eyes, which he does immediately.
“How does it look?” he asks and makes grabby-hands for the mirror.
“Nu-uh, not until I’m all done!”
“Urgh, fine..at least tell me if I look ridiculous?”
“Actually..” I start but take a minute to consider how I like it. The color came out quite nicely, there are no thinner or thicker spots where I applied it all over the moving lid. The color definitely suits him, but I feel like there’s something still missing.
“Can you open your eyes wide and look up?” I ask him and after pulling a face because I won’t tell him what’s wrong, he does so.
And then, carefully so I won’t poke his eye out, I tip the very tip of my pointer finger into the powder and then brush over the thin line right under his eye. I start at the far end and work my way slowly to a spot a little over the middle of the line before doing the same on the other eye. Gerard isn’t moving an inch and I even have to wonder if he still breathes when I’m done.
When he carefully blinks his eyes a couple of times and looks up at me, I think I might be the one who’s not breathing. It’s not even that it makes him look a bit more like a girl because honestly, every boy or man could wear that and look amazing without being mistaken for the other gender. I seriously don’t get society.
It makes him look like a different version of himself, it makes him look both sad and beaming at the same time for some reason. It looks beautiful.
“You look great,” is all I can manage to say, mainly because my brain hasn’t processed this new look yet.
He smiles hugely and pushes the next container of pitch black color into my hands without saying a word. This one is for the eyelashes and I grab behind me for the item I made for the eyelashes. It’s a mini version of a comb maybe, or a weird toothbrush without a handle. I made it out of a thick and robust leave and cut countless tiny bristles in it. I have no idea if it works at all, but I couldn’t come up with anything else and I figured a feather wouldn’t do the job since it’s way too soft and movable.
“Should I close my eyes again?” Gerard asks and I shrug my shoulders.
“Not sure..maybe try it out?” I suggest and he nods and closes his eyes again.
I dip the comb thingy into the black color and brush the remains on the edge of the container before carefully trying to apply it on his eyelashes. It doesn’t really work though, at least not without making a giant mess. Not even after I make him move his head this way and that so eventually, I ask him to open his eyes and try it this way.
This works way better and I even manage to do a considerably good job without smearing half the goopy stuff on his face. If it would be someone else, I’d feel watched and that could easily intimidate me, but since it’s Gerard, I only feel joy and I might even blush a little when he grins up at me shyly during the process.
When I think I’m done again, I lean back and take a look. It doesn’t make that much of a difference in color actually, but definitely in length, which surprises me because I didn’t even think about that, only about the effect the black might have. But again, I know zero to nothing about all of this and it does look fantastic so I’m definitely not complaining.
Next is the bronze powder. For this, I take a thin piece of linen that we usually use to dry the dishes, but I washed it yesterday so it’s as good as new.
I’m just about to brush it over his cheek, but then I have to stop because now that I think about it, I have no idea where to actually put it. On the cheek, sure, but where exactly? Right on the cheekbone? Under it? Over it?
“What’s wrong?” Gerard asks when he sees the look on my face.
“I uh... where do I put it?” I ask and maybe feel a little stupid. I don’t want him to think that I don’t know what I’m doing, which I don’t and he knows it, but still. I have my pride or whatever.
To my relief, he just chuckles and strokes his knuckles right over my cheekbone.
“Try this,” he says and winks when I roll my eyes.
Of course, he’s right and it fits him perfectly. I think I chose the right color for this because even a tiny bit lighter or darker would look too much or not enough at all. It emphasizes his face just right and makes his cheekbones look sharp and soft all the same and weirdly enough his nose even more up-turned than it already is. The girly look is coming through more and more and I have to say that I already love this on him. I wish he could do this on his own, just so I can watch him all the time. Maybe someday that’s the case. I mean, he’s an artist. Wouldn’t he go crazy for something like this? That is, of course, if he likes the result in the end and wants to keep doing this every now and then.
Last would be red for his lips that serves as lipstick, but before I grab it from behind me, I get an idea. Instead, I take the neatly folded skirt and top, brush the few grains of sand off and give both to Gerard, who gives me a questioning look.
“What about the other one and my hair?” he asks and I grin and lean back on my hands to watch him as he starts to pull the top over his head.
“The lip color could smudge and your hair could get messed up so I’m doing that after,” I answer and take a good long look at his belly before he grabs the skirt. I calculated the length of the top perfect because it ends just over his bellybutton and it doesn’t sit too tight, which is exactly what I wanted.
“Uhm,” he says and raises his eyebrows as he grabs the skirt and the white linen falls like a waterfall to the ground from the grip in his hand. Yeah, I think I should explain how to use it but it’s quite amusing to watch as he takes it in both hands and holds it in front of his belly and mutter to himself when he doesn’t get how to put it on after a few attempts. That’s when I decide to jump in.
“Here, let me,” I chuckle and take the skirt from his hands.
“You could just show me you know,” he says and sounds maybe a little sulky.
“Nah, where would be the fun?”
Then I pat him on the hip twice with my palm which is a code for him to get up, which he does and then helps me get up as well.
“Steady me?” I say and smirk when he puts his sandy hands on my shoulders with a strong grip so I won’t fall over or trip on my broken foot too hard.
I hear him sigh over-dramatically (seriously, Gerard is the biggest drama-queen I know) from where I’m bent down and I know that he leans his head back to look at the sky while I’m busy tying the skirt around his hips and push it in place here and there. For a moment I think about removing his loincloth, but decide against it, at least for now.
It seems he doesn’t notice when I’m done because even as I straighten myself again, he still looks up and seems lost in thoughts. It’s cute because he’s chewing on his lower lip and his hair dangles over his shoulders just a tiny bit. Now I'm kind of glad that I didn't cut it in so long.
I could watch him forever, but we’re not done here so to pull him out of his trance, I give him a peck right in the middle of his collarbone and place my palms on his clothed hips.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I say and finally get his attention when he moves his head and looks at me with big eyes that seem even bigger now that there’s eyeshadow on them. He also raises his eyebrows as if he has no idea where we are and who I am and he still chews on his lip which has got to be the most adorable thing in the world.
“What?” he asks after another moment of silence and looks grumpy when I laugh.
“What?!” he asks again when I sit down once again and gesture for him to do the same.
“You’re just cute that’s all,” I say cheerfully and move around so I’m sitting behind him. Then I carefully tilt his head back and start working on his hair.
“’M not cute,” he mumbles and probably thinks I don’t hear him but of course I do. The sea is quiet today and even the brush running through his hair is audible to my ears.
First I think about tying his strands into a knot, but in the end, I stay with a simple ponytail that actually reaches down to his shoulders. Well, almost at least.
He holds still the entire time and moves his head this way and that patiently when I ask him to. Since it’s the very first time ever that I’m doing this it takes a few attempts and at some point, I even get frustrated because his hair is kind of silky and thin and slips from my hands too easily. I mean, my hair is much thinner but his is longer and uneven cut which makes it a little difficult but eventually, I get the hang of it. To finish it off, I stick three tiny white flowers that I collected, into the band that holds his hair and pull the entire creation tight one last time, not minding the tiny little grains of sand that I didn’t manage to brush out. They could even be mistaken as glitter if you don’t look too closely.
When I move to sit in front of him again, I notice that I forgot some baby hair on each side of his face and a few of his shorter bangs already got loose again but honestly, this way he looks even more beautiful than he does already. It’s like his face got a whole new shape with his hair all the way back except for the few strands that hang obliquely over his forehead. The bun is by far not perfect, but I kind of like the messy style of it and I like that the tips of his hair curl in on itself.
“Can I touch it?” he asks then with a delighted smile and excitedly taps his fingertips against his upper thigh.
“Not yet, but I’m almost done okay?” I say and he rolls his eyes in a ‘pretending to be annoyed’ way, and I stifle a giggle.
“What’s next?” he asks and I look what items I haven’t used yet. There’s only the lip color left and the bracelet and necklace I made as well as the white nail color.
“I think we should paint your nails now so that they can dry meanwhile, what do you think?”
He shrugs with a smile and says, “Sure why not,” before holding one of his hands out for me to take it.
“Have you been chewing on your nails again?” I ask concerned when I apply the first drop of white color to his nails.
He doesn’t say anything until I’m done with the first nail, but I notice that he’s trying hard not to withdraw his hand because his fingers twitch slightly every now and then. Eventually, he says in a strange tone, “You know it’s a habit, just like you always pinch your eyes together weirdly.”
That makes me stop in my tracks and I look up at him only to see that he’s grinning cockily at me, which, in return, makes me snarl offended. And of course, that’s when my voice has to break on the last two syllables. When will this ever stop?!
“Hey! You know they hurt..”
Then I drop my hand with the brush in it as well as my head because suddenly I feel very vulnerable. I didn’t mock him for chewing his nails, it just surprised me because I haven’t seen him doing it for a while and he usually does it when there’s something major on his mind. He knows how I feel about this ‘habit’ of mine and I’m a little hurt because he usually doesn’t comment on it for this exact reason. And now I feel stupid because why would I feel attacked because of this? This is pathetic and I can feel myself blushing.
“Sorry Mikey, I didn’t mean for it come out like this,” he says in remorse and I feel him scoot next to me, shoving sand all over my legs in the process.
Of course, I knew that he’d apologize immediately if I reacted like that, but I’m still hurt.
“I was just worried is all,” I say quietly and feel him hook his chin over my shoulder. That’s comforting and intimate and I feel a little better, especially when I feel his hand stroke over the nape of my neck and the hair there.
Then I shiver when he mumbles with his lips pressed against my shoulder, “I know, I just felt caught there for a moment and didn’t know what to say, m’ sorry I hurt you.”
I sigh and say reluctantly with my head still bowed down, “It’s okay I’m just overreacting again..”
“Which you have every right to.”
“Do you find it unattractive?” I ask in shame and finally, dare to lift and turn my head to look at him where he’s sitting half beside- half behind me.
“I never found anything about you unattractive Twee, quite the opposite, more like!” he says immediately and with certainty in his voice.
Hearing him say that releases the tension and hurt in my body and I smile a tiny bit when I sigh and rest my cheek against his jaw and say, “You look pretty.”
“So do you,” he says honestly and strokes his hand from my neck down to my shoulder and up again.
“Wanna finish my nails?”
At that, I smile bigger and take his hand and the brush again.
-
While his nails dried in the sun that is now standing higher in the sky, I secured the necklace around his neck and carefully slipped the bracelet on his wrist without smudging his nails.
The necklace only has one shell on it, right in the middle of the yarn so it’s not too much at once, but the bracelet has many little shells and flowers on it and I love how both turned out. I also like that the shell of the necklace reaches to his chest, that makes it look more casual but still elegant, at least in my opinion.
“Okay,” I say and take the container with the red lip color from behind me. “Almost done now, are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready since we first talked about this,” he says and giggles, but then suddenly looks very serious when he adds,
“Actually..can I do that? I’m curious to try it, but if you want to, you can-“
“No that’s fine, let me get the mirror.”
I find it lying a little buried in the sand and quickly brush the grains off before holding it up but cover most of it with my palm so he can’t look at his entire face just yet. I still want that to be a surprise.
And suddenly, nothing really matters anymore because that’s my brother looking like a lady, and I’m so gone.
Seductive. That’s the only word that can describe how Gerard looks while he applies the dark red color carefully and precise on his spread lips.
He looks completely different like this, so mature and attentive to what he’s doing. I mean, he always looks sure of what he’s doing, but this is..this is alluring!
It’s like he’s born to do this and I’m sure this is his first time doing something even close to this, at least in that regard. I know Gerard is a born artist, always has been, and this is the ultimate proof. Art, in my opinion, isn’t just about the end product, but also about the process and the thoughts you put into it and even though I have no idea what he’s thinking about right now, I’m sure it’s something very significant.
The way he dips the brush into the color and then carefully but sure applies it with such a look of concentration is art itself.
I wish I could draw half as good as him because I want to capture this moment right here forever.
“What do you think?” he finally asks and I must have zoned out on his mouth because I have to shake my head to focus again. He looks at me questioning and I put the mirror next to me without once looking away.
In front of me sits the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I’m seriously speechless. Gerard seems to get it because he smirks and gets up, straightens the skirt, that floats down his right leg like a waterfall, straightens the top and then walks a few steps back and forth, maybe to test it out or to make me go crazy. I’m rooting for the latter.
Not that I didn’t know that before, but Good Lord can that boy swing his hips and still look manly at the same time. And I think that’s just it: He still looks like a man.
I mean, he could easily be mistaken as a woman like this, absolutely no doubt, but I know him. I know what he looks like underneath the layers of clothes and make-up and prettied up hair. I mean, from what I’ve seen and heard back when we still lived at home, was that women were supposed to shave their legs, at least father sometimes said that he liked women with smooth legs and I know Brain said the same about the other gender. They had to have breasts, soft features, and long hair and had to smell like fruits or flowers or vanilla. That’s what I remember from TV or articles in mothers boring magazines. There was always that one ideal, rules that made a woman look like a woman.
This right here has got nothing to do with any of the girls or women from back home. It might be that I’m in love with this nerdy ninny right here, but seeing him like this makes me go totally and beyond crazy.
Gerard doesn’t have smooth, shaved legs. In fact, his legs are quite hairy with dark hair and they spread up his crotch and someday maybe even over his belly like it is with me. He doesn’t have breasts, he’s as flat as a tray and has muscles in places where most girls are ‘supposed’ to be soft. He doesn’t smell like fruits or vanilla, he smells like saltwater, dry sand and a bit sweaty. Then there’s also the obvious; he doesn’t have a vagina, but a penis, so there’s that. His hair might be longer than the hair of most men I used to know, but then again, it’s always been like that. His features, yes, they could be mistaken as girl ones and the older he gets, the more I see that coming through.
His cheekbones are prominent as well as his upturned nose and his big eyes and perfectly shaped eyebrows. He has a huge smile if he allows showing it and teeth that might look ridiculously small and weird to others, but I think they’re the cutest teeth I’ve ever seen. He does have shaped hips and a nice butt and a neckline that some women could be jealous of.
But yeah, all in all, his body has more characteristics of a man and that, if you ask me, makes him more of a woman than anything else if he wants to be one.
Still, that doesn’t change the fact that he looks like a fairy with a doll face right now and all I want is to rip his clothes off again and do things to him.
He’s damn handsome.
“Help me up, will you?” I ask when he walks past me for the third time in a row with swinging hips.
He smiles sweetly and offers me both of his hands, which I gladly take, and let him pull me up. When we’re standing in front of each other, I entwine my fingers with his and squeeze both of his hands.
“You look really, really pretty,” I say and feel shy all of a sudden. This isn’t the first time that I’m telling him this, by far not, but it’s a new situation and I’m not sure yet how to act.
Much to my surprise, he ducks his head so that his bangs fall over his right eye a little and blushes right across the freckles on his nose. Then he squints up at me coyly through twinkling eyes underneath eyeshadow and long lashes and his smile grows bigger than before, which looks absolutely stunning with his lips so dark red and perfectly shaped like this. Then he says in a tiny and unsure but hopeful voice, “Yeah?”
I nod at his question and gently brush my lips over his red ones, only for a second and not hard like I would love to so I don’t smudge the color, but I need him to know that I mean it. When I pull back, I whisper a soft, “Yeah,” back at him and the smile I get in return is brilliant.
I think I have really outdone myself here and I’m quite proud that everything worked out the way I hoped it would.
Sadly, we both have to start doing our chores for today soon, me especially, since I spent most of my time the last few days with working on the things I needed today, so there’s a lot of catching up to do.
That’s said easier than done with Gerard walking around like this all casual like nothing is different, which it isn’t, not really, but you have to cut me some slag, I don’t get to see him like this every day so the staring and occasionally flirting are totally okay and explainable.
At the end of the day, I somehow managed to get most of the laundry, dishes and beach cleaning done. I really can’t wait until I can walk normal again because while I love the crotches and am thankful to have them, they do get in the way and are unhandy in certain situations.
Gerard caught a lot of fish today and rooted bananas, mango, avocado, and coconuts, fixed a broken window on the house and helped me cook dinner.
“You walk different like this,” I say later when it’s starting to get dark and we’re sitting on our bed.
He puts the old book down that he must have read a thousand times by now and looks at me funny.
“I do?”
I nod and say, “You also pull this face-“
I try to copy it, but I don’t even get close. He laughs and makes the exact face I’m talking about where he purses his lips and creases one corner of his mouth into a tiny smirk. It’s complicated to explain, but he really nails it.
“I think it’s the lipstick,” he says casually and then smirks again, the normal smirk I’m used to and that makes me blush under certain circumstances.
Right now, for example.
“What?!” I say, maybe a little grumpy, but whatever. I don’t like it when he puts me in a position where I don’t know what he’s got in mind, though I have a pretty good idea.
“I like how you looked at me today,” he says and folds his arms over his chest amused when I blush even more.
“Oh yeah? And when was that?” I know that he knows that I know, but I can tease him back just as much.
“Oh you know,” he starts and gets up, goes to the chest where I stored the cosmetic products earlier, gets the red lipstick out and turns around so he leans with his butt against the lit of the chest with his ankles crossed casually and starts to renew the color that faded over the day. While he does it, he continues talking and he knows how much he’s teasing me right now and he enjoys every second of it.
“Let’s see...when I had to bend down to pull the fish out of the water, or when I had to stretch to cut the fruits on the trees..what else, oh right, when I knelt down to saw the wood for the new window or when I walked past you just now to get this-“
He holds up the small container of red color and then abruptly changes his expression from smirking to a mix of straight face, dark eyes and slightly open mouth.
I have to clear my throat then when I say, almost in a whisper, “Yeah I-I did that.”
He just nods at that with the same expression on his face, puts the container behind him without removing his glance on me and then lets his arms hang loosely at his sides.
“And why did you look at me like that?” he asks in a dark voice and I can hear his breath hitch when I accidentally squeeze my thighs together. I pretty much tried to avoid getting hard since this morning and now that he acts like this, there’s absolutely no way that I can hold it back any longer.
I have to close my eyes for a second to clear my thoughts and to catch some air myself before saying, with still closed eyes, “Because I thought you looked pretty and...”
“And what?” he asks, and when I open my eyes, I almost have to close them again because one of his hands is pressed flat against his crotch and the other curled into a fist by his side.
“...and hot,” I finally manage to answer and clench my thighs together again, but the yellow dress isn’t doing much of hiding.
Until maybe a few months ago I would have never dared to use words like 'hot', 'sexy', 'making out' or whatnot because I always thought of them as dirty and inappropriate, but now I find that I don't really mind and thankfully, Gerard doesn't either. Actually, he sometimes uses a lot heavier words than me and more often than not I have to wonder where he learned them.
Speaking of; One of the things that is, even more, turning on than him touching me and bringing me off is watching him doing it to himself. I don’t know why really, but it’s probably the dirty and forbidden aspect of it. I love how he looks then, how he breathes, how he tries to contain himself or how he sounds like when he finally comes. Especially though the way his fist looks wrapped around his dick and the way he knows just right how to pump and touch it in the right spots and angles.
I learned the word ‘dick’ only a few weeks ago. Gerard taught me that there are several words for penis but apparently, most of them are really unappropriated. Dick is unappropriated too, but I was sick of the word ‘erection’ so finally, I asked him if there were synonyms for it or how he called it. I thought that 'dick' sounded a little less unappropriated than 'cock' so I stayed with that and Gerard seems to be okay with it too. If the circumstances were any different and we were at home surrounded by other people such as our parents, I’d never ever dare to use such language, but since we’re the only ones here, I can make an exception. And like I just said, I found out that I actually don't mind it too much.
The first time Gerard touched himself in front of me was at the beginning of all of this when he brought pleasure to me once again and I wanted to return the favor but didn’t know how. I mean sure, I could have easily copied what he did to me, but I wanted everything to be perfect for him.
I knew that he wanted it for a long time but never said anything because the horrible memories of Brian’s speeches flashed up in his mind again. When I told him that I wanted to do it though and that I thought about it literally every night since that first time on the beach, he looked like the old Gerard again and there was no hint of fear or shame or guilt.
I told him that I needed his help because only having done it to myself maybe once or twice at that point wasn’t that much of a help and I needed him to guide me yet again. He didn’t seem to mind though, he seemed proud that he could teach me something new and soon, I brought him off with my hand under his in a firm grip and I was absolutely amazed by the way his body reacted.
It was the first time ever that I purposely looked at him entirely naked and more so, that I touched him in such places. I quickly learned that he liked having his balls touched and that he didn’t like it as rough as I liked it sometimes. Just like me, he liked it when I put light pressure on his lower belly with my flat palm and he’d practically explode when I kissed him, pressed my knee against his balls and stroked him slow and steady all at once.
Gerard is beautiful when he comes. He has that look on his face that makes my stomach drop and takes my breath away. He always squeezes his eyes shut when he’s close and pulls his eyebrows together in the most alluring way. That and his mouth slightly open and his cheeks a soft shade of red and the high-pitched noises he makes are sometimes enough to get me going again.
And thinking about that now with him looking like that and his hand now slowly teasing himself through the white cotton of the skirt is absolutely enough to get me hard in only two seconds.
I wish I could read his mind because he doesn’t say anything or makes a move to come back to bed, he just stands there and looks like art and sex. My toes curl inwards and I stick them under the thin blanket I’m sitting on to hide it, but of course, he notices it and smirks teasingly.
“Watch out for your foot,” he says and closes his eyes for a second when he twists his hand and I hear him curse softly under his breath.
It’s astonishing how he always knows everything about me and yeah, shoving my toes under the blanket a bit too roughly might hurt a little, but whatever. That’s really the last thing I’m concerned about right now.
I’m not saying anything in response, I’m way too mesmerized by him. When he sticks his hand under his skirt gasps softly, I give up and do the same. There’s no way I can resist on touching myself any longer.
He must have heard the tiny moan that escaped my throat because he immediately stills his hand on him and opens his eyes.
“Oh no no Mikey, hands off.”
He can’t be serious, can he? As much alluring as he is, he’s just as frustrating. But I can never deny any of his requests and I’m still hoping that he comes back over and does the job himself.
“Would you mind coming back here, then?” I say and withdraw the hand from under my dress and run both of my hands over my face and hair in a poor attempt to regain some self-control.
He smiles sweetly when I let out another frustrated noise and then finally, finally comes back to bed. A little too slowly for my liking, but I really shouldn’t complain.
Especially not when he kneels down next to me, fast but carefully pulls my legs apart and sits in between them. He hovers there for a moment with that same look as before on his face before putting his flat palms on my chest and presses me down gently so I’m lying in front of him. Then he takes a firm grip on my biceps and pushes my arms over my head, or well, next to my head due to some space issues.
This could be a little frightening, in all honesty. He’s never manhandled me like this before and for someone who’s new to all of this, this could be mistaken as something entirely else. But, this is Gerard. I trust him with every ounce of my body and he knows that. When he leans over me then, gently swipes his thumbs over my upper arms and whispers in a comforting voice, all of my last worries are blown away.
“Always say stop if it’s too much, you hear me?”
He searches my face for concern but all I do in return is smirking, simply because I can. He raises an eyebrow at that but when he smirks back down at me, I know he understands. I trust him and I know he’ll stop as soon as I say so. And by the way, I kind of like this. I never would have thought that I’d let someone manhandle me, but with Gerard, it’s always different.
This is exciting.
One last smirk on his side, and then he dips his head low to suck and kiss my neck. While he does it, he shuffles my knees further apart with his own ones and makes a frustrated noise when the seam of the dress won’t slide up enough.
To fix that, he releases one of his hands from my biceps and pushes the dress up high enough that it slides over my hips. Of course, I take his missing grip on my arm as an invitation to burrow my fingers in his hair, but as soon as he gets what I’m doing, he sits up, puts his hand back to where it was and then presses down hard enough with both of his hands to make me gasp.
“’Said hands off!”
He doesn’t say it in a mean or threatening way, more like in an amusing and slightly breathless way.
I have to bite my tongue not to giggle or something else, and I know very well that this is so not the response he wants, but I can’t help it. I love everything about this right now. Under any different circumstances I’d feel intimidated, but not when he looks so damn sweet and seductive.
He raises an eyebrow again to challenge me and I surrender and nod without saying anything, but I leave the tiny smile on my lips which I know makes him happy.
“Leave ‘em there!” he growls and tightens his grip on my arms again so I know what he’s referring to. I nod once again and sigh happily when he lowers his head again to nibble at my collarbone.
He lets go of my arms then and instead runs his palms down over my torso and lets them rest on my hipbones. I like the feeling of that because he has big and warm hands. Nothing like my skinny cold ones. Until now, I managed to leave my eyes open but that quickly changes when he presses his thumbs down hard into that crook between upper thigh and pubic bone.
I can practically feel his smirk against my skin when he does it again and I wince in arousal. I can only imagine how my neck and collarbone must be looking by now thanks to his lipstick. I find that I like the idea of that a lot and to encourage him to do more, I buck my hips up, or at least I’m trying because his firm grip barely allows me to move.
In return to my poor attempt to grind against him, he pulls his head up slightly and before I get a chance to comment on his red smeared lips, he crashes them against mine so hard that our teeth clack together.
I’m glad that Gerard wanted to try out the tongue kissing thing a while ago because it’s one of my favorite things to do now and I find that I’m not too bad at it. Gerard seems to be on the same page about that because he groans deep in his throat while we kiss. I’m so lost in that act for a moment, that I barely notice one of his hands wandering up and slide under my dress where he strokes over my waist, my chest and eventually curls his hand in between my armpit and the arm of the dress. It would look absolutely ridiculous if it wasn’t so hot.
He digs his fingertips flat into the skin where my armpit hair starts to grow and where the arm of the dress ends so the very ends of his fingers poke out from under the cotton.
Surprisingly, it’s turning me more on than it tickles.
“I like that,” he says in a low voice as our lips part with a smack.
“What?” I ask in a breath, not quite sure what he’s referring to. It could be a lot of things for all I know.
“These,” he breathes back and strokes the thumb of his left hand over my armpit hair and three of his fingertips of his right hand over my pubic hair. I don’t even make an attempt to stifle a laugh at that because of course, of all things right now, he’s talking about the weird hair on my body. I shouldn’t be surprised though, Gerard is weird like that and to be honest, I get where he’s coming from because the same goes for me. I never thought it could be an important thing to comment on, but to him, apparently, it is.
“Freak,” I snort out and really have to contain myself not to reach down to touch him.
Luckily, he distracts me from that for a moment longer when he sits up suddenly and places both of his palms on my hip bones again. Only now do I dare to open my eyes and I’m greeted with a grinning Gerard whose upper lip is tucked between his teeth and whose ponytail is totally messed up. The red of the lipstick surprisingly stayed mostly on his lips, only smudged out a bit here and there.
What a look.
“So I wanna try something,” he announces in that squeaky voice of his and absently starts to stroke the fingertips of his right hand through the curls between my legs and the underside of my dick.
“Oh yeah?” I gasp out and have to swallow before adding in a shaky voice, “and what’s that?”
His grin only gets wider at that and he shakes his head.
“Can’t say.”
At that point, my hands are curled into fists because it really takes a lot of self-control not to reach down and either stop his hand or encourage him to do more, so through gritted teeth, I ask, “And why not?”
“’Cause you wouldn’t let me.”
I wouldn’t? I’m pretty sure I’d let him do whatever he wants right now. He must see the questioning look on my face but all he says is, “Remember what I told you earlier,” which I assume must be to say stop. Okay, so maybe I’m a little unsettled now. What could he mean that would make me stop him?
I’m so busy thinking about that, that I don’t notice that he changed his position slightly from hovering over me, more or less, to bending his head down low on my belly where the dress slipped up.
Then I’m busy thinking about how good he looks down there that I don’t even have time to be alarmed when I feel him run his tongue from my bellybutton down into my pubes where his chin nudges against my dick.
He’s never done that before, but it’s nothing that would make me stop him so why was he so excited about it? This is actually quite nice and it takes all of my willpower not to reach down to bury my fingers in his hair. It’s only when I realize what he’s aiming for that my eyes fly open in shock and I try to turn my crotch away, but he’s holding me down with firm pressure on my hips so there’s nothing I can do.
My idea gets confirmed when I feel his tongue press down on the tip of my dick and my hands desperately curl into fists around the thin sheet I’m lying on.
Now I understand what he meant when he said that I wouldn’t allow it when I knew what he was talking about because never in a million years would I have given him an O.K. to put his mouth on that part of my body. Not because I wouldn’t like the feeling of it or whatever, but because I do things with it! It can hardly be hygienic or pleasant or God knows what and is that even allowed? Is that something that people do? Did Brian tell him that this is yet another thing that connects with sex? Thank God we took a bath last night or else I’d feel really bad now!
All of this runs through my head in the short second that his tongue licks over my tip and I just gave myself enough reasons to stop this right here, but the feeling is so overwhelming, especially when he does it again and then runs his tongue along the shaft, that I decide that I give a flying damn about it. Instead, my mouth falls open and my back arches, which doesn’t seem to stop him but encourage him to continue.
I can feel that he’s testing the waters because one second he’d very carefully touch his tongue down on one spot and then full on lick over it when he noticed that it brought pleasure to me. At this point, my eyes are squeezed together so tightly that I’m seeing white dots and my feet dig into the sheets so hard that it almost hurts too much, at least on my broken foot. He must sense that because he pulls away slightly and carefully lifts the leg of my broken foot over his shoulder so it hangs loosely in the air. Then he runs his palm over the shin of my good foot and when I feel light pressure on it, I know that he wants me to bend it.
This position is much more comfortable and I’m silently thankful for his thoughtfulness. I don’t have time to say that out loud before he lowers his head again and full on puts my dick in his mouth.
That evokes a loud moan from my throat and I bury the side of my face into my upper arm in a poor attempt to stifle it, but of course to no avail. Now I also get why he’s got some sort of death grip on my hips because if he wouldn’t push me down, I’m pretty sure I’d choke him because there is barely a way to not buck up into the tight heat of his mouth.
For a second he seems lost down there because there’s no movement nor can I feel him exhaling through his nose and I’m just about to tell him to stop when that suddenly changes and he slowly begins to bob his head up and down. If I wouldn’t be so turned on right now, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead embarrassed because I can feel myself leaking and I seriously doubt that that tastes any good. I’m not even sure if you’re allowed to swallow that, no one ever told me if that’s harmful or not but I sure hope he knows.
Gerard doesn’t seem to mind about the feeling or the taste though, because with every noise that I make and with every move that I try to contain, he gets greedier and even makes noises himself. Not that I can hear them, not really, but I can feel them vibrating in his throat and the feeling of that brings me so close to the edge that it would be almost funny, well, if it wasn’t so wretched.
I’m breathing so hard and heavy at this point that I’m starting to feel lightheaded and the side of my biceps must have bite marks by now from where I tried to hold back moans and bit down instead.
I’m scared for a second when he lets go of my hip with one hand and slides it up my side. I really don’t want to choke or hurt him but I don’t think I’m able to control that, I need him to hold me down or else I don’t know what happens. Thankfully though, he pulls off for a moment and just nuzzles my pubes while his hand slides up higher, all the way to my armpit. Then he curls his hand as far under my shoulder as he can reach and pushes to make clear that he wants me to reach down.
I’m not so sure if I’m interpreting this right, so I very slowly lower my right arm and when my upper arm is within the reach of his hand, he takes it and guides my hand to his head where I immediately curl my fingers into his hair.
When he moves to suck again, my hand tightens so hard in his hair that I hear and feel him exhale loudly through his nose and I’m really glad that he’s put his palm down on my hip again. It’s really difficult not to push him down now, but there’s no way I’m letting my body win over, not when he’s being so good to me.
Not much later I’m so close that I’m starting to panic again. Especially when he curls his left hand around the base of my dick where he can’t reach with his mouth. There’s no way I’m going to come in his mouth, no matter how arousing the thought might be.
“Gee- Gee, come on,” I stutter out and gasp high in my throat when he tightens his grip and dips his tongue into the slit of my tip. That’s good because at least he pulled off a little, but that’s still too close to his mouth and also really not helping because that spot gives so much pleasure that I have to tighten my grip on his hair yet again to try to pull him away and my thighs start to clench around his head.
“You have to pull off, come on I’m gonna- please pull off Gee,” I’m starting to babble now, but there’s nothing else I’m capable of. I’m so close that it almost hurts but I don’t want it to happen like this, not because of me, but for his sake.
It seems like no matter what I’m doing or saying, he won’t listen to me, he just keeps on sucking and licking and when he slides his free hand over my sweaty hip bone and up to my lower belly to press down, I give up. Especially when he moans around my dick when I pull on his hair again.
With a loud and embarrassingly high-pitched, “Ngghhhaah,”, arched back and lulled back head, I come, and now even his hands can’t stop me from bucking up at least once where I lost control over my body.
I’m barely even done coming when he pulls off with a slurping sound and kneels up to untie his skirt with shaky fingers. I’m still totally blown away and it takes an effort to open my eyes, but when I do I’m gifted with what I see. Gerard’s pupils are blown, his cheeks are flushed, there’s a light line of sweat on his hairline, his lips are still red but not only from the lipstick, that is smeared greatly around his mouth, but probably also from all the sucking, and the thing that makes that even hotter than it already is, is the small stripe of come dripping down his lower lip. My come! The thought alone is enough for me to moan again, especially combined with the view of Gerard finally untangling that damned knot and wrapping his hand around his dick.
When he does, his eyes shut immediately and he falls forward a bit but catches himself with his palm on my hip. Only a second later he comes with a groan, in the same second that I moan, “Christ, Gee!” It doesn’t disgust me when he comes on top of me, he did that a few times now and I only find it hotter the more he does it.
“Come here,” I say quietly when his knees tend to give up. He lifts his head when he hears my voice and after a second, maybe after realizing what just happened, he smiles sheepishly and brushes a loose strand behind his ear.
After taking the skirt, this time to clean us up, and after slipping on the white puffy underpants, he curls up by my side and kisses my cheek gently. Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around him and bury my nose in his hair.
At this moment, I decide if it is a good moment to tell him that I love him. He knows that I love him, I told him that more than enough, but when I did, it was always in that brotherly, best friend and family kind of way. But I fell in love with him over the last quarter and a half year and I know that he knows that as well, but I never said it out loud.
I desperately want to say it, but I’m scared that I wouldn’t get the same words in return. Which I know wouldn’t happen, I know that he loved me way before I even let that thought cross my mind, but I’m scared to hear it. Maybe because it’s a big thing. Not any bigger than what we have already, but it’s just...different.
In the end, I decided that I won’t tell him. Maybe not ever. I like the idea of the unspoken but still known. I wonder if he feels the same about this, but why would any of this be important when the one person on earth I love with all my heart and soul lies next to me and holds me close? The one who protects me at all costs, saves me from nightmares, makes me laugh, trusts me and accepts me for who I am? More importantly, the one who would give up the only person in life he loves above all else in order for them to be okay?
That, if you ask me, is honest, unconditional and irrevocable love that doesn’t need to be outspoken. It exists on its own.

Notes