Gee's Wife

“You actually did it,” Gerard hissed, fingers digging into Frank’s hips hard enough to leave crescent moons through the thin fabric of his jeans. The stage lights had cut out seconds ago, plunging them into the smoky half-dark backstage area, but Frank could still see the wild gleam in Gerard’s eyes. Part fury, part something hotter.

Frank wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning despite the way his pulse hammered in his throat. “Yeah, and you fucking loved it.” The crowd’s roar still vibrated in his bones, and their chants of encore, muffled behind the heavy curtain. He’d planned the move weeks ago. The drag of his tongue up Gerard’s cheekbone, slow and obscene. He’d even rehearsed it in the mirror until his jaw ached. But the way Gerard had shuddered against him, the choked noise they’d made mid-song? That wasn’t part of the script.

Someone shouted Gerard’s name from across the wing, and they jerked apart like they’d been caught, though no one was looking. Frank’s skin prickled where Gerard had gripped him, phantom warmth lingering. He watched their throat bob as they swallowed, watched their fingers flex like they wanted to reach for him again.

The stage manager barreled past, clutching her clipboard like it was her lifeline. “Five minutes to load-out,” she barked, already vanishing into the maze of equipment.

Frank’s fingers tightened around Gerard’s wrist, their pulse hammering against his thumb. The stage manager’s voice had faded into the din of clattering gear and roadies shouting over each other, but all Frank could focus on was the way that Gerard’s pupils swallowed the dim light. “Five minutes,” Frank echoed, voice rough, and Gerard’s breath hitched. Just once, barely there, before they twisted their hand free only to shove Frank backward into the narrow gap between two towering amps.

The metal was cold against Frank’s spine, but Gerard’s body was fever-hot where they pressed against him, one knee slotting between Frank’s thighs with practiced ease. “You’re such a little shit,” Gerard murmured, but their hands were already working Frank’s belt loose, fingers skimming the damp waistband of his briefs. Frank bit down a groan, head tipping back against the amp with a dull thud. The noise of the crew was too close, too loud, but Gerard’s mouth on his neck was louder. Sharp teeth and wet, open-mouthed kisses that made Frank’s hips jerk forward helplessly. 

Gerard’s laugh was a dark, pleased thing against his skin. "Thought you wanted an audience," they taunted, palming Frank through his jeans just hard enough to make his breath stutter. Frank’s nails dug into Gerard’s shoulders, gripping the sweat-damp fabric of their shirt. The stage had been one thing. That was calculated and choreographed. But this was something else entirely. The risk of being caught, the way Gerard’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as they undid his fly, it was all too real, too fucking much.

Someone dropped a mic stand nearby with a clatter, and Gerard froze, their breath hot against Frank’s collarbone. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then Gerard’s hand slid into Frank’s briefs, fingers curling around him with a grip that bordered on cruel, and Frank’s vision whited out for a second. "Fuck—" he choked out, hips bucking into Gerard’s fist, but Gerard just clamped their free hand over his mouth again, smothering the sound.

Frank’s knees nearly gave out when Gerard’s thumb swiped over his cockhead, smearing precome down his length with a roughness that bordered on punishment. The hand over his mouth tasted like sweat and stage smoke, but Frank couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Gerard was jerking him off with the same rhythm they’d used onstage, all sharp, controlled movements that left Frank gasping against their palm.

Gerard leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Frank’s ear. “You gonna come for me?” they murmured, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Right here, where anyone could see?” Their fingers tightened, twisting just shy of painful, and Frank’s hips jerked forward with a muffled whine. The amp behind him rattled with the force of it, and Gerard’s grin turned downright predatory. “Christ, you’re pathetic,” they breathed, but their own thighs were pressed together tight, rocking against nothing like they couldn’t help it.

A burst of laughter erupted somewhere to their left. Too close. And Frank went rigid, heartbeat slamming against his ribs. Gerard didn’t stop, just slowed their strokes to a torturous crawl, dragging their thumb over Frank’s slit in slow circles until his thighs trembled. “Scared?” they taunted, but their own breath hitched when Frank bit down on their fingers, teeth sinking in hard enough to leave marks.

The noise Gerard made was filthy, half groan and half laugh, and Frank could feel the vibration of it where their chests were pressed together. He arched into their grip, desperate for more friction, more anything, but Gerard pulled back just enough to watch him unravel, eyes dark and gleaming under the backstage lights. “Look at you,” they murmured, voice wrecked. “All worked up over nothing.”

Frank’s knees hit the amp with a metallic thud as Gerard’s grip twisted, their thumb pressing punishingly into the underside of his cock. The sting of it shot straight to his gut, and Frank’s vision blurred. Half from the pleasure, half from the sheer fucking audacity of Gerard doing this here, now, with roadies shouting just feet away. He could hear the clatter of equipment being loaded onto the bus, the distant hum of the crowd still chanting outside of the venue, but all of it faded beneath the wet sound of Gerard’s hand working him over, slick with sweat and precome.

Gerard’s teeth grazed Frank’s earlobe, breath ragged. “You’re dripping,” they muttered, like it was an accusation, and Frank choked on a laugh that came out more like a sob. Their fingers curled tighter, dragging up his length in a slow, filthy stroke that had Frank’s hips jerking forward uncontrollably. The amp rattled again, loud enough that someone nearby shouted, ‘Hey, watch it!’, but Gerard didn’t flinch. Just pressed their forehead to Frank’s, their noses brushing, and fucked him faster with their hand, their own hips grinding against Frank’s thigh in a desperate, uneven rhythm.

Frank’s breath came in sharp, punched-out gasps against Gerard’s palm. He could feel them shaking against him, could hear the way their breath hitched every time Frank’s teeth dug into their fingers. It was messy, too fucking much. Gerard’s knuckles bumping his zipper, the wet slide of skin on skin, the way their knee kept slipping between Frank’s thighs like they couldn’t decide whether to pin him or rut against him. Frank’s stomach tightened, heat coiling low and urgent, and he bit down harder on Gerard’s hand just to hear them groan.

Then there were footsteps. Close. Way too close.

The footsteps stutter to a halt just beyond the amps, and Frank’s entire body locks up, his breath trapped behind Gerard’s fingers. Gerard goes still, their hand still wrapped around Frank, thumb pressed obscenely against his slit. For one agonizing second, Frank can hear his own pulse roaring in his ears, then the footsteps pivot away, swallowed by the din of the crew. Gerard exhales sharply through their nose, their grip tightening reflexively, and Frank nearly bites through their palm.

Gerard leans in, lips brushing Frank’s temple. “Close?” they murmur, voice ragged. Their hips stutter against Frank’s thigh, fabric catching damply, and Frank nods frantically, thighs trembling. Gerard’s laugh is breathless, uneven. “Yeah, me too.” Their thumb circles Frank’s cockhead, smearing precome down his length, and Frank whines high in his throat, hips jerking.

For a long moment, they just breathe, foreheads pressed together, sweat dripping between them. That was until the PA system crackled to life, “Final call for load-out crew. Wheels rolling in ten.”

Frank’s knees gave out completely when Gerard finally pulled away, their fingers leaving his skin sticky and oversensitive. He slumped against the amp, chest heaving, and Gerard wiped their palm on their jeans with a lazy smirk. The PA system blared again, “nine minutes,”but Frank barely registered it over the ringing in his ears. His body felt boneless, wrung-out, but Gerard was already straightening their shirt like nothing had happened, like they hadn’t just wrecked him against a goddamn amp in the middle of a backstage frenzy.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Frank muttered, voice hoarse. He swiped a hand over his mouth, tasted sweat and Gerard’s skin, and shuddered.

Gerard’s grin was all teeth. "Only if you’re lucky." They reached down, hooked a finger under Frank’s chin to tilt his face up, and Frank’s pulse stuttered all over again at the look in their eyes. Dark, possessive, hungry. "Now get your shit together before someone sees you like this." They patted Frank’s cheek twice, condescending as hell, and Frank wanted to bite their fingers clean off.

Instead, he grabbed Gerard’s wrist again, yanking them close enough to smell the salt on their skin. "You don’t get to walk away first," Frank growled, and Gerard’s eyebrows shot up, amused. Frank didn’t give them time to quip back, just spun them around and shoved them face-first into the amp with a dull thud. Gerard’s breath hitched, shoulders tensing, but they didn’t resist when Frank crowded against their back, mouth hot on their neck. "You’re mine," Frank whispered, biting down just hard enough to make Gerard gasp. "Remember that."

The PA crackled again, “eight minutes”, but Frank barely registered it over the rush of blood in his ears. Gerard’s back was pressed flush against his chest, their breath coming in sharp, uneven pants as Frank dragged his teeth down the nape of their neck. He could feel the hitch in Gerard’s ribs when his fingers slid under their shirt, skimming the damp skin of their stomach, and the sound they made, half protest, half plea, sent a fresh wave of heat straight to Frank’s gut.

“You’re insatiable,” Gerard gasped, but their hips arched back into Frank’s grip anyway, their ass grinding against his still-hard cock. Frank’s laugh was ragged against their shoulder, his fingers digging into Gerard’s hip hard enough to leave marks. “And you’re full of shit,” he muttered, nipping at Gerard’s earlobe. “Like you weren’t begging for it.

Gerard twisted in his grip, their smirk sharp enough to cut glass, and Frank’s breath caught at the sight of them. Lips swollen, hair a mess, their shirt riding up where Frank’s hands had been. They looked wrecked, and the knowledge that he’d done that, that he was the reason Gerard’s knees were still shaking, sent a thrill down Frank’s spine. 

Then Gerard’s knee knocked between Frank’s thighs, their grin turning downright mean, and Frank’s vision blurred for a second. “You gonna do something about that?” they taunted, nodding pointedly at Frank’s crotch, and Frank growled, shoving them back against the amp hard enough to make the metal shudder.

Frank's fingers dug into Gerard's hips, the fabric of their jeans bunching under his grip as he ground against them slowly and deliberately, just to watch their throat bob when they swallowed hard. "You talk too much," Frank muttered, lips dragging along the shell of Gerard's ear before biting down, sharp enough to make them gasp. The amp behind them rattled with every shift of their bodies, and Frank could feel the way Gerard's breath hitched when his knee pressed tighter between their thighs. 

Someone shouted, “Move your asses, wheels in five!” from across the wing. Jesus, how was time moving that fast? They hadn’t heard the PA system over the heavy breaths between them. Frank didn’t care, though. Not when Gerard's back arched for him, not when their fingers scrabbled at the amp's edge like they were trying to hold on. Frank slid a hand up their shirt, palming the sweat-slick skin of their stomach, and Gerard made a sound, half laugh, half groan, before twisting their head to catch Frank's mouth in a kiss that was more teeth than tongue.

Frank could taste the adrenaline on them, the sharp tang of stage smoke, and the faint copper hint of blood where Gerard's lip had split during the set. He chased it, licking into their mouth with a hunger that bordered on desperation, their teeth clacking together before Gerard bit down hard enough to make Frank hiss. The sting of it only made him grind forward harder, his cock throbbing against the rough denim of Gerard's jeans. 

Gerard's hands flew up, fingers tangling in Frank's hair to yank his head back. "You're obsessed," they breathed, lips slick and swollen, but their voice cracked halfway through, betraying the way their thighs trembled against Frank's knee. Frank grinned, wild and mean, and dragged his thumb over the damp spot on Gerard's crotch, watching their pupils blow wide. "Yeah," Frank agreed, voice rough. "And you're fucked."

The PA system screeched again, “Four minutes”, and Gerard's grip tightened in Frank's hair, pulling until his scalp burned. "Then fuck me," they demanded, low and wrecked, and Frank's breath stuttered. He could feel the heat of Gerard's body through their jeans, could smell the sweat and sex clinging to their skin, and the sheer audacity of them, demanding this here, now, with the crew shouting just feet away.

Frank didn't hesitate. He spun Gerard around again, shoving them face-first into the amp with enough force to draw a clang from the metal beneath them. Gerard's breath punched out in a gasp, their fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick surface, but Frank was already yanking their jeans down just far enough to expose the curve of their ass. He spat into his palm, slicking himself up with rough, hurried strokes, and Gerard groaned, low and throaty, when Frank pressed the head of his cock against them.

Gerard's back arched, shoulders tensing as Frank pushed in, slow, deliberate, savoring the choked noise Gerard tried to swallow. The amp behind them rattled with every thrust, the metal cold against Gerard’s palms where they braced themselves. Frank leaned in, biting the jut of Gerard’s shoulder blade through their damp shirt. “Quiet,” he growled, but Gerard only laughed, breathless and sharp, when Frank’s hips stuttered at the clench of their body around him.

Footsteps clattered past, too close, and Frank froze, fingers digging into Gerard’s hipbones hard enough to bruise. Gerard’s breath hitched, their muscles tightening around Frank in a way that made his vision blur for a second. Then the footsteps faded, swallowed by the roar of the loading bay doors slamming shut, and Frank exhaled harshly through his nose before snapping his hips forward again, harder this time. Gerard’s muffled curse was half-lost in the creak of the amp, their knuckles whitening where they gripped the edge.

Frank leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Gerard’s ear. “You gonna come?” he murmured, mimicking Gerard’s mocking tone they’d taken with him earlier, dragging his teeth over the sweat-slick skin just below Gerard’s jaw. “Right here, where anyone could see?” His hand slid around Gerard’s hip, fingers curling around them with a grip that bordered on cruel, and Gerard’s hips jerked forward with a punched-out gasp. Frank grinned against their shoulder, thumb swiping over their cockhead in slow, filthy circles. “Fucking pathetic,” he breathed, but his own thighs trembled where they pressed against Gerard’s.

Gerard twisted their head to glare over their shoulder, lips swollen and pupils blown wide. “Shut up,” they hissed, clearly feeling mocked, but the effect was ruined by the way their voice cracked when Frank’s fingers tightened. Frank laughed low and mean, and fucked into them harder, the wet slap of skin echoing beneath the hum of the PA system’s countdown. “Three minutes.”

Gerard’s knees buckled when Frank’s thumb pressed into the underside of their cock, twisting just shy of painful. They bit down on their own wrist to muffle the groan, shoulders shaking as Frank fucked them harder into the amp. Each thrust was punctuated by the metallic creak of the casing. The noise alone should’ve been enough to get them caught, but Frank didn’t care. Not when Gerard’s body clenched around him like a vice, not when their breath came in ragged, punched-out gasps against their own skin.

Frank leaned in, lips dragging along the sweat-damp curve of Gerard’s spine. “You’re close,” he muttered, more observation than question, and Gerard’s hips jerked back into his grip with a broken noise. Frank’s grin was all teeth. “Yeah, I know.” He tightened his fingers, stroking Gerard in time with his thrusts, and watched their shoulders tense, their fingers scramble for purchase on the slick metal.

The PA system crackled to life once again, “Two minutes,” but Gerard barely registered it over the white-noise rush of blood in their ears. Frank’s teeth sank into the nape of their neck, sharp enough to leave marks, and Gerard’s vision blurred at the edges, their thighs trembling. They could feel Frank’s breath hot against their skin, could hear the ragged hitch in his voice when Gerard clenched around him on purpose just to watch Frank’s rhythm stutter.

Frank growled, low and rough, and pinned Gerard harder against the amp. “You fuck,” he hissed, but his hips snapped forward anyway, driving into Gerard with a force that made the metal shudder even louder. Gerard’s laugh came out strangled, their fingers slipping on the amp’s edge, and Frank’s hand shot out to brace them, his palm flat against the casing beside Gerard’s head.

Frank’s fingers dug into Gerard’s hipbones, the sharp press of bone against his palms the only anchor as he fucked into them with rough, uneven thrusts. Gerard’s breath hitched with every snap of Frank’s hips, their shoulders tensing as the amp rattled behind them, loud, too loud, but Frank didn’t care. Not when Gerard was biting down on their own wrist to stifle the noises, not when their body clenched around him like a vise every time he dragged his thumb over the head of their cock.

Gerard’s knees gave out just as the PA system blared “One minute,” their hips jerking forward into Frank’s grip with a choked-off gasp. Frank caught them by the waist, yanking them back against his chest, and Gerard’s head tipped back against his shoulder with a ragged exhale. “Fuck—” they breathed, voice wrecked, and Frank grinned against the sweat-damp skin of their neck.

“Yeah,” Frank muttered, twisting his fingers just shy of cruel. “Like that.” He could feel Gerard trembling against him, could hear the way their breath stuttered when Frank’s teeth scraped the shell of their ear. The amp was cold against Frank’s forearm where he braced them both, but Gerard’s skin was fever-hot under his hands, their pulse rabbiting beneath his fingertips.

Gerard’s hips stuttered, their thighs shaking as Frank’s thumb circled their cockhead, smearing precome down their length in slow, filthy strokes. “Frank—” they managed, voice cracking, and Frank bit down on their shoulder just to feel them jerk in his grip.

Frank didn't let up. Not when Gerard's back arched against him, not when their fingers scrabbled at the amp's edge hard enough to leave marks. He kept his grip tight, his strokes relentless, watching the way Gerard's throat worked as they swallowed back noises that would've given them away instantly. The PA system blared “Thirty seconds,” a death knell. But Frank only fucked into them harder, the wet slap of skin lost beneath the crew's shouted warnings about the bus doors closing.

Gerard came with a silent, shuddering gasp, their body clamping down on Frank so tight it stole his breath. Frank bit down on their shoulder to muffle his own groan, hips stuttering as he chased his climax. Rough, frantic, barely holding on. The amp rattled violently when Gerard's knees finally gave out, their weight dragging Frank down with them in a tangle of limbs and damp fabric.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. They just breathed against each other's skin, sweat-slick and trembling until the PA screeched “Doors sealing in ten,” and reality came crashing back. Frank jerked upright, wiping his hand hastily on his jeans before yanking Gerard to their feet. "Move," he hissed, shoving their jeans back up with rough hands. Gerard's laugh was breathless, uneven, but they staggered upright, their shirt clinging to their back in damp patches.

They barely made it, Frank's boot hitting the bus steps just as the hydraulics whined behind them, the door sealing shut with a hiss. The driver didn't even glance back as they stumbled down the aisle, still half-hard and reeking of sex, but Ray shot up from his bunk when Gerard collapsed onto the bench opposite him with a groan.

Ray's smirk was immediate, sharp as a blade. "Jesus. You two look like you just got dragged through a tour bus exhaust pipe." He kicked Gerard’s boot lightly, nose wrinkling when they didn’t even bother flipping him off, just slumped against the seat, breathing ragged. "Or," Ray added, grin widening, "almost like someone rode you through one."

Gerard’s fingers twitched against the vinyl seat, still shaking from the aftershocks, and Frank watched the way their throat worked as they swallowed, like they were trying to piece together words through the haze. Ray’s grin didn’t falter, sharp as a switchblade, and Frank kicked his boot up onto the bench beside Gerard, deliberately crowding into their space just to watch their breath hitch.  

"Exhaust pipe’s got nothing on me," Frank muttered, voice rough, and Gerard’s laugh came out punched-out, half a groan. Their knee knocked against Frank’s thigh, warm even through denim, and Frank didn’t miss the way their fingers curled into the seat like they were stopping themselves from reaching out.