#bottom gerard

“You still living together?”

“I pay my half.”

“And you…still share the bed?”

“It’s better than that,” Frank snorted, “Except he used to at least look like he had tits, but lately—”

“Language.”

“Sorry, but seriously, fuckin’ Gee should count towards charity.”

“Two Hail Marys.”

“Add that to the twelve from last week?”

“No,” Father Andrews sighed, his voice carrying like he was thinking of something better, almost amused with the challenge, “doesn’t seem to be working.”

A tapping foot echoed between them, the bridge Frank had been working on all week. Kept telling Ray the chord should’ve been a C not an A, but did he listen? No he just—

“If you’re going to keep doing it,” Father Andrews asked, breaking the silence, “why are you here?”

Frank stared at the smoke crawling between the slats. For a moment, he looked like a boy again, cornered by a question he couldn’t lie his way out of.

“Because I’m Catholic,” he said finally. “And you people got a problem with everything.”

“You come to Mass, you stay late, but you don’t follow the teachings.”

“I follow the ones that matter.”

“But you sleep with a man.”

“Not a man,” the correction fell before Frank knew it, “Illi isn’t… she’s—”

“A man in the eyes of God.”

“If God cared so much he would've made everything match. Wouldn’t have given him that face or let me know he exists when she looks at me.”

“You ever think about what your mother would say?”

Frank's stomach pooled with something close to embarrassment. “She likes Illi. Couldn't even tell the difference across the dinner table.”

“And if she knew?”

The quiet between them turned heavy.

“She’d think I’m a good person,” Frank hoped more than answered, softer now. “Mostly.”

Father Andrews cleared his throat, noticing the stillness that only came when Frank was getting what they both knew he was here for.

“The Sunday school teacher needs help getting the kids… interested in being here. Play them something. Show them it’s cool to be here.”

Frank snorted. “You want me to babysit a bunch of Bible babies?”

“I want you to have something else to do with your time. Give them something to talk about other than pokey-man.”

That almost earned a real laugh. He thought about arguing but didn’t. Just nodded, brushing ash off his jeans.

The confessional door shut with a quiet thud followed by the drag of Frank’s shoes.

Back to the ritual. Baby. Pews. Used Bible.

Peace be with you.

---

Afternoon

Fluorescent lights buzzed like flies waiting to have a crack at his insides.

Dr. Levine didn’t look up when Gerard walked in; he never did until he was ready. Which Gerard usually hated, but today he needed the brief moment where his existence didn't seem to matter any more than it did when he slept.

The leather chair was waiting, cracked and faded. It pulled him in like a magnet, or maybe it was just routine. Sit, cry, walk out with pills he knew he wouldn't take.

But not today. Today he had purpose.

“I’m glad you came,” Levine said, pen already clicking. “I like starting the New Year with a session for my clients who struggle this time of year.”

“Yeah, well.” Gerard sank into the chair. “Got me outta Mass. I’ll take the win.”

The red and black pack of calm slid out of his jeans with ease.

“Can I, uh, smoke in here?”

“This isn’t a hospital. You can smoke. Or yell. Or cry. Whatever helps you get through the hour.”

“You coulda just said yes,” Gerard muttered.

“So,” Levine breathed, “the hair?”

“Tried to do a Madonna thing,” Gerard said, raking his fingers through the bleached disaster. “Came out like… this.”

“I think it looks ....very nice.”

“No it doesn’t,” Gerard exhaled with a puff of smoke. “Thought you never lied to me?”

“Everything’s subjective.”

“Yeah? My head isn’t.”

Levine scribbled something. Gerard rolled his eyes.

“How’s your year starting off?”

“You see the hair?” Gerard said. “Exactly like that.”

Click. Another note.

“Still sharing a bed with Frank?”

A smile almost broke out. “Yeah. He met my family for Christmas. Mikey thinks he’s cool. Mom didn’t say anything about the tattoos. That’s, uh… something.”

“And how does that feel?”

Apparently, like the radiator clicking on.

“No sunglasses today.”

“Don’t need ’em.” Gerard rubbed at his face. “Was kinda hopin’ we could… talk about my Alprazolam prescription instead.”

“It’s been one month.”

“I know. But I cut back on drinking. Mostly. Except when the train’s too crammed, and people at work won’t get off my back about stamps and showers, and— I can’t draw without the meds. I can barely breathe.”

“You’re not supposed to request medication.”

“You’re always talking about autonomy or whatever—well… here I am, trying to make a choice.”

Levine didn’t react.

“How are things with Frank?”

“Would be better if I had Xanax.”

“Problems at home?”

Always back there. Even when it was his folks instead of his roommate. Levine never accepted it wasn’t about home.

“Met a girl at work.”

Levine actually looked up. “A girl.”

“Yeah. Tall. Blonde. Has a dude’s name.”

“Since when are you into women?”

“I’m not into women… I’m into her. She’s got, uh… nice teeth.”

That threw Levine. “I just assumed because of Adam. And Frank.”

Gerard’s chest tightened. “That’s different.”

“Different how?'

“Well,” Gerard breathed, stubbing his cigarette, “Adam’s dead and Frank doesn’t tell me about the girls. Why should I tell him?”

“So this is about—”

“This isn’t about any of… that. I’ve always liked girls. A lot. Like ’em so much sometimes I watch 'em just to try and figure out how they….just are. They just assume before I can ask anything. Or laugh. Just like you do.”

“I never laugh at you, Gerard.”

“But you want to. Just like everyone else. Then you write something down and think you know me—this is a waste of time.”

Probably should’ve kept that last part, but sometimes things just slipped out.

He wanted to fold in on himself like a black hole, but the best he could do was make the chair squeak and bite his nails before pulling another cigarette from the pack.

“I just… want my head to be quiet longer than a commercial break.”

Levine watched him — the way he had since Gerard was fourteen and wouldn’t say his own name for three sessions.

“I’ll place an emergency script,” Levine said finally. “Two weeks. We’ll revisit.'

Gerard’s spine loosened even as guilt made his head dip. “Thank you.”

“Now,” Levine said gently, “the girl. What're you going to do about her?”

Gerard had no idea. Chys liked the first drawing he’d left, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her it was him. Women were impossible. Men were easy—Frank especially. Belt on the floor, reruns nobody was watching. A mouth, a hand, a heartbeat.

“I drew her once, she liked it. Thought maybe I’d try again. More… me.”

“And what’s ‘you’?”

Gerard smirked weakly. “Depends who you ask. Weird. Cool. Fuckup.”

“And if I’m asking you?”

“I try not to.”

Time ran out. He held the prescription like a prize.

Red and blue pills — salvation shaking in an orange bottle.

He practically ran home.

Frank was waiting on the couch, baggie out, smirk sharp.

“Double,” Frank said. “Got it cheap.”

Gerard should’ve said no.

He didn’t.

Shoved the bag in his pocket.

Just in case.

The couch swallowed them both. A beer found its way into Gerard’s hand.

Commander Sisko flickered onto the TV.

Frank nudged his knee. “Hey. Leave that shit out there.”

Gerard didn’t turn his head.

Just smiled and let Frank ask him questions they both knew the answers to.

Neither of them could wait to get to bed.

Frank insisted Gerard scarf down a sandwich, jump in the shower, and meet him in the bedroom.

Didn’t look at him weird when he hesitated at the door. Just grabbed a Libertines tape and wiggled the hoop in his lip with his tongue.

“Just one song and I’ll be waiting in there the whole time.”

Turning the lights off helped.

Dripping wet, shivering from the reminder that they were behind on the gas bill, he stood in the bedroom doorway.

Pale skin and tattoos waited for him on the bed with a chattering smile. Something stronger than The Force pulled them in.

When lips met, hands followed. No waistbands in the way. Just warm skin and slick palms finding their way.

Falling onto his back, Gerard looked up into a face that never asked the question. Never looked down long enough to make Gerard remember what he was.

Couldn’t admit to Dr. Levine that he liked that it still hurt — kept him from wanting it as much as he knew he would otherwise.

When Frank turned the slide into his first thrust — the one that joined them fully — he got what he was looking for.

The look.

Crooked lips parted and eyes that might as well nail him to the crucifix.

Every sound that fell from Illi to Frank sounded like a prayer, no, a confirmation—he’d do the Hail Mary just in case.

Oh, God.

Smoke escapes my lips as I look into the distance, watching the commotion around the parking lot from under the sunglasses I stole from Gerard earlier. People walk around the parking lot under the bright sun, either rushing to whichever shadow they can find or just having given up to the sunburns – certain pride swells in my chest at Gerard and I having seats right under the bus’ shadow.

The cigarette is suddenly snatched from my fingers, making me raise an eyebrow at Gerard, who carelessly takes a drag of it before dropping the stump to the ground, smashing it against the concrete with the heel of his boot. The closest to a reaction I get from Gerard is a cynical smile, which seems to only grow after I shake my head to myself. Definitely something that would get me mad if I wasn’t used to it after all these years.

“Annoying bitch,” I mutter in his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

“Possibly.” He grins. “But all yours.”

I hum at Gerard, nuzzling him softly and giving him a last kiss before I can pull away and it’s impossible not to smile at his adorable manners, blushing shyly at the affection.

As much as there isn’t exactly much we would be doing if not here, something makes me want to stand up and go wander around every few seconds just to remember I can’t and there goes another sigh as I turn to look for something interesting to watch. Maybe it’s to do more with the heat crawling up my skin in such an annoying way rather than the lack of anything to do.

“Gerard!” Someone suddenly says and they’re finally here, thank hell.

It doesn’t take long for them to prepare all the cameras, which happens while the guy shares some words with Gerard about the interview. I don’t really need to move as the cameras will be mostly focused on the two and a good distance separates Gerard and I.

“I see you’re with your girlfriend,” the guy comments and I internally cringe, preferring to continue pretending I’m not following the conversation. Girlfriend. Awfully wrong.

“Yeah,” Gerard replies shyly and I suddenly feel a hand – his hand – wrapped around mine, holding onto it firmly with this subtle nervousness he holds whenever in front of a camera, no matter how many times this happens. I squeeze his hand softly, making him relax a bit under my touch.

Gerard lets go of my hand at some point and their words turn into incoherent noises in the background until I decide to avert my attention to them and actually watch them… until I get lost in thoughts again.

Having people refer to me by she, her, girl is so frustrating. I wasn’t worried about it at first, reminding myself my pronouns don’t define who I am, and things took an unexpected – or maybe not so unexpected – turn, only getting worse; still, I manage to bite my tongue whenever it happens. I’m not a girl, no, but I’m not a guy. None of these feel right. A label itself doesn’t feel right; at least now.

Of course, perhaps things would be easier if I discussed it with Gerard because we’re always helping each other out, almost unable to function on our own after spending all these years inseparably. Something, however, holds me back, having the words caught in my throat whenever the subject crosses my mind. This is almost shameful, with Gerard being so open with me the whole time while I can’t tell him something so important. He’s even talked with me about his own gender issues.

“You alright, love?” Gerard’s concerned voice cuts through my thoughts and I turn to see him looking at me with a matching expression, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, don’t worry.” I try to smile. He doesn’t smile back and I brush it off. I’ll need us to be alone if I’m telling him anything, anyways.

Once the sun starts to set in the horizon, we’re grabbing food and heading to the hotel, having decided we deserved a night on a proper bed and a proper shower after all these days, considering we’ve also got a longer stay in here.

“Hi, hi, hi!” Gerard jumps towards me once I walk into the room, wrapping his arms around my neck while I still close the door behind me and I can’t help but to smile. His lips are pressed to mine before I have the chance to answer, a short kiss followed by him pulling away and spending a long moment observing me, demonstrating less emotions than he holds in these wide, hazel eyes.

“What?” I raise an eyebrow, resting my hands on his hips as both of us stumble towards the bed, clumsily, though never losing our balance.

“Well, that’s exactly my question to you.” Gerard furrows his eyebrows lightly, that same concern from earlier now present in his gaze yet again. What? Well, he asked me if everything was alright earlier, but maybe I can shrug it off by saying I felt tired. Or maybe not. “There’s something bothering you, (y/n), and it’s obvious.” He sighs, letting go of me to sit down on the edge of the mattress.

A few excuses run through my mind. They aren’t worth it. God, okay, that’s it or else I’ll stab the next person who refers to me as a girl even if it’s Gerard.

“I’m non-binary, Gerard, okay?” Pause. Aching silence. “Well, at least I’m not a girl or a guy,” I breathe in certain defeat under his gaze, moving to sit down next to him. “Like, I’ve noticed it some time ago, but I was… afraid of telling you. I know you love me above all and I can tell you stuff like this, but I continued nervous, for some reason. Well, I am. I’m just done being referred to as ‘girlfriend’ and all, y’know?”

“Oh,” Gerard mutters and I can see him nodding by the corner of my eyes before his hand is placed over mine. “It makes a lot more sense now, if you wanna know. You’re always with this awkward smile whenever people refer to you like this. How do you wanna be referred to from now on, love?”

“Just nothing gendered, if that’s alright,” I say softly, feeling my confidence slowly wearing out to be replaced by this rising nervousness. “And my name continues fine.”

“(Y/n), you shouldn’t ask if it’s alright.” He moves closer wrapping an arm around my torso instead, pressing a comforting kiss to my jaw. “It’s your identity, it’s who you are, you don’t need to ask ‘if’ people are going to accept you.” His hand meets my cheek, gently bringing me to face him. “And I’ll continue loving you no matter what. I’m happy you finally decided to say it. You won’t get frustrated anymore. Is it okay to tell the others?”

“Yeah, it is.” I nod, feeling this weight being slowly removed from my chest, finally. “Just not today, okay? I’m tired already.” I smile a bit, somehow calming down with how relaxed Gerard himself is with this whole thing, expression never changing.

“Of course,” he hums, hand coming down to my collarbone as his eyes avert to my lips a few times. “You’re my wonderful partner, such an amazing and brilliant person I’m lucky to have.”

If I ever had anything to say to Gerard, it just vanishes from my head at the moment both of us lean in, lips pressed together in a sweet kiss. All the worry and nervousness has already vanished by now, being simply a distant memory that left this weird feeling in my chest, but it’s definitely better than all that weight that made it even hard to breathe.

“I love you no matter what,” he mutters and he’s quickly kissing me again, one of his hands moving to the back of my neck and playing with the few strands of hair there.

The most of a reply I’m able to give him without breaking the kiss is a muffled hum, and even though I really appreciate his words, I’m more focused on how he deepens the kiss, becoming more invested into it. I can feel the warmth of his skin through the jeans of his pants, under my hands as I place them on his thighs and lead them up to his hips, fingers slipping under his jacket and shirt to hold onto the warm skin and rub circles into it. A quiet sound escapes Gerard’s throat.

Only my lungs pleading for air forces me to come to a stop, panting softly with my eyes still closed and forehead pressed to Gerard’s, his eyelashes tickling mine lightly.

Gerard clearly has something in mind – he had it planned all along, knowing how the bastard can be – and my assumptions are proven true when his lips meet my neck, nibbling on and kissing the skin in an almost demanding manner.

“Gee,” I breathe softly, voice tight in my throat because Gerard didn’t choose any random spot on my neck. A groan comes from him in response, a quiet response, but gains a desperate tone with a light tug on his hair. Fuck. Resisting Gerard isn’t quite easy, so I try to keep my focus whilst enjoying his touches for a moment longer, soon I’m pulling away. “Needy today, aren’t we?” I tease lightly, observing his flushed face, though he doesn’t hold any embarrassment.

“Why? Got a problem?” He mocks and I can’t stop myself from laughing at his manners, his mouth twisting in a cute and sassy way. He rolls his eyes. A smug air laces his grin, wiped away from his face in seconds with a last kiss I give him before motioning for him to move further up the bed, which he does.

Gerard’s jacket meets the ground with a muffled sound at the same time I get rid of my shoes and jacket, soon climbing on the bed and making my way over to Gerard. He watches me with wide eyes, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in anticipation.

“How perfect can you be?” I ask, not bothering to keep my posture, flashing a half grin as I tug on his shirt and he helps me with getting rid of it.

“As perfect as you want me to be, sugar.” He’s as audacious and careless, lying there complacently and waiting for me to do something, pale skin almost pleading for my touches, contrasting perfectly with the dark grey shades of the covers.

“You’re terrible,” I mutter merely above a whisper, cold fingertips meeting the skin first, followed by my palms flat against his waist. Little bumps rise under my touch, but I ignore them, leaning in to start to mouth Gerard’s collarbones, doing to him the same he did to me earlier, though also allowing my hands to run up and down his sides and my thumbs are shortly sinking in the area right under the waistband of his jeans, around the trail of hair – his hips bulk forward in response, with a light groan escaping his lips.

Teasing Gerard absolutely isn’t part of my plans, but seeing him there like that makes me want to enjoy everything to the most, so I try to balance each movement between the enjoyable and uncomfortable for both of us.

Red marks mark my trail down Gerard’s torso, each having been accompanied by gasps and sometimes moans.

Gerard finally allows himself to breathe properly, catching his breath whereas I remove my shirt, promptly working on unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, letting it fall to the ground along with the rest of his clothes. I take my moment to observe him again and Gerard doesn’t object – running his tongue between his lips and grinning when my eyes meet his.

All that posture is dropped the moment I bend down and nibble down onto Gerard’s hip, nuzzling the warm skin on my way down to his thighs. He’s bringing his legs up at the slightest touch on his thighs spreading them in a silent invitation I take, placing a hand on the underside of it, firmly. Gerard tenses up, twitching slightly according to how my lips linger over the skin, each time closer to his already hard cock, which falls heavily over his lower stomach.

“(Y/n),” he gasps, unable to say anything more once I wrap my lips around the thin, sensitive part of the inside of his thigh and nibble down onto it. Proper moans escape his lips, higher pitched, almost little whines.

Okay, okay, that’s enough – solely watching Gerard like this already has me aching for some friction, maybe some sort of touch even if it’s actually touching Gerard.

Our panting, along with the sound of my pants being removed, sounds loud in the sudden silence, making us aware of how loud Gerard was actually being.

Gerard only stares at the ceiling, hands loosely wrapped around the sheets, now messy after all the pulling. I gaze at him, at how delicate he seems and how the bright red tone on his cheeks and down his chubby body contrasts perfectly with all the paleness.

My bag rests beside the bed, against the bedside table just like I had left it there before having to leave the room to go talk with Ray and quickly came back to Gerard kissing me. It’s got a couple changes of clothes, my phone, some essentials, but most importantly, it has the strap-on, which I always bring along to the hotel stops, plus lube, just in case. And thank God I did.

“Turn that ass over for me,” I say, giving Gerard’s thigh a light slap.

A few groans come from Gerard, but he does do as said, turning on his stomach and glancing back at me with sulky pouty lips.

“My cute slut,” I tease, pecking his lips with a half smile.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t need to brag.” He waves a hand in dismissal, moving to grab one of the pillows so he can hug it. I roll my eyes, moving to kneel behind him and a new slap – this time on his ass – has him groaning again, though getting himself up on his knees, hips in the air.

Hell, yes. I hum in approval, pressing a kiss to the side of Gerard’s ass, keeping my focus on lubing up my fingers at the same time. Finally, I’m pressing one of my fingers to his hole. He tenses up a bit under the touch, the tight rim of muscles fluttering once I start to circle it, later welcoming my finger warmly once I sink it in. Gerard moans, softly and long.

Soon, a finger turns into two then into three until Gerard is a moaning mess, gasping and trembling at how my fingertips brush his prostate and press down on it, clenching around my fingers. His moans are becoming too desperate when I decide to finally pull away, breathing heavily myself and most likely flushed. “Fucking hell, Gerard,” I mutter softly, giving Gerard some time to recompose himself.

I clean my fingers on the sheets, not caring much because it’s not like the hotel is going to do something about it either. Instead, I focus on relieving myself, bringing my hand between my legs to try to get rid of at least a little bit of this need. Fuck. My finger slides along my clit as I look at Gerard for a moment then bite down on my lip, preventing any moan from escaping, throwing my head back at the pleasure, but I force myself to remove my hand in the moment my hips jolt forward like they had life themselves.

“Great, great,” I mutter to myself, trying to focus on slipping on the strap-on and grabbing the lube yet again.

Gerard breathes heavily, shifting a bit in his place, motions that come to a stop once I’m kneeling behind him, hands closed around his pudgy hips.

“Ready?” I ask a bit breathlessly, wetting my lips.

“Please,” he groans, voice muffled into the pillow. I comply. A louder gasp escapes Gerard’s lips at the feeling of the toy pushing in, slowly so he can adjust to it, whilst I lean down according to how my hips push in, feeling the skin of his back pressed against my torso, hot and damp with sweat already, but that’s the smallest of my worries. A soft moan escapes Gerard’s lips with my hips finally meeting the back of his ass completely and, feeling him wriggling lightly, I don’t hesitate in starting to move, pushing back just to sink in again.

A steady string of moans is soon escaping Gerard’s lips, interrupted sometimes by gasps and incoherent mumbling as my pace grows faster until I find a rhythm nice enough for the both of us. It’s subtle at first, but his hips are moving along, stuttering before finding a harmony with my movements and clearly summing up to his pleasure.

My nose is buried in Gerard’s hair, each of my shallow breaths and occasional groans coming with a faint smell of shampoo and cologne. His dark strands tickle my nose, but I don’t mind them, pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck and daring to nibble down on it.

“Hell, Gerard,” I say breathlessly, pulling myself back a bit so I can adjust the angle of my hips. “You’re going to be the death of me.” His moans just sound like absolute music to my ears, becoming even more pleasing after I find his prostate, snatching high pitched and more desperate, uncontrollable sounds from his throat, intensifying more as I start moving faster. “There you go,” I groan, letting go of one of his hips so I can wrap a hand around his dick, pumping it to the same rhythm of my thrusts.

“(Y/–” My name never gets to leave Gerard’s lips completely among the moans, only mumbled incoherently as he grips onto the pillow and practically melts under me. “I-I’m–” he gasps, followed by a shaky moan.

I need to move away for a moment, taking a look at Gerard’s face and it’s just heavenly, half hidden into the pillow, mouth hanging open in a way the upper row of short teeth are seen and his dark strands are everywhere, sticking to the skin with the sweat and covering his eyes, which are pressed shut.

“Then come, love, come,” I mutter lowly into his ear, sinking my finger into Gerard’s cock slit and not a minute later he’s coming, a long and high pitched moan escaping his throat with it. I keep on moving, attentive to his manners and pulling away before the oversensitivity can hit him.

A few quiet sounds still come from Gerard even while I put everything away – we can clean and organize it all tomorrow –, slowly relaxing on the mattress. He is eventually sitting up against the headboard, blinking slowly, still a bit disoriented. “Come here, will you?” His words almost run one into the other, but he keeps his focus, spreading his legs and patting the space between them.

“Yeah,” I mutter and sit down on the space, leaning back against Gerard, appreciating the warmth he brings me in contrast to the cold night air hitting my sweaty skin.

Gerard doesn’t waste any time, arm wrapped around my torso and fingers quickly working on my clit.

“Fuck,” I gasp, arching my back and patting around for something to hold onto, finally having a hand buried in Gerard’s hair whilst also holding onto his wrist. Gerard’s hum tickles my skin, his lips pressed against my neck as he nibbles on the skin, never slowing down his work with his hand. My pleasure soon grows when I feel a couple of fingers slipping in, scissoring and moving around until they’re pressing down on a specific spot, thumb still working against my clit.

My climax hits me before I can see, waves of pleasure sent running up my thighs as I tug onto Gerard, vision momentarily going black.