They’d been your favorite band since you were a kid, posters covering your walls, lyrics burned into memory, but you’d never seen them live.

Being a sound technician was something else entirely. Not just a background crew member moving silently in the wings, you became someone woven into the rhythm of the show night after night. With ease, you slipped in and out of dressing rooms; your hands, steady as you fitted in-ear monitors, made last-second adjustments while the low thrum of the crowd leaked through the walls.

Up close, the band felt different from how they did on posters and photo shoots. More human, a little worn around the edges, all nervous energy and muscle memory. You learned their preferences quickly, adjusting on instinct as you checked their in-ear mixes, swapped battery packs, and tightened cables. By the time the arena lights dimmed, your work was done. You would step back into the shadows, heart still racing as the first few notes rang out.

You learned how to move with them. Their pre-show routines, quirks and all, soon became familiar, etched in your memory like the back of your hand. Up close with all the band members, you still sometimes felt disbelief: these were the same people you’d once had quiet, so-called “celebrity” crushes on throughout your teenage years. A fact you would never admit out loud.

It was normal to have crushes on people you idolized. Back when it was harmless, distant, and parasocial, confined to grainy interviews on Youtube and late-night playlists. But now, standing backstage, it felt different. It wasn't just a memory anymore. It was real: sudden, alive, and impossible to ignore.

Gerard, of course, his quiet intensity, the way he slipped into silence before a show, tea in hand, patient, reserved. Always polite, always kind. Every careful movement he made towards professionalism made your chest tighten, as it always had, but now sharper. The way he absentmindedly tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. The faint crease of concentration between his brows as he watched you fiddle with his monitors. How he held the cup of tea just so, careful not to spill, a small ritual you couldn’t help but notice.

Then there was Frank. Restless, joking constantly, a teasing lilt to his voice whenever he talked. The way his smile tilted when he was talking to someone else, but his eyes found yours anyway. How he adjusted the cuff of his sleeves or ran a hand through his hair mid-laugh. The energy he carried was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wickedly when he did nothing more than nod your way.

These observations were truly harmless, buried deep beneath your professional exterior.

You were sure everyone in the crew felt this way about them. Their fleeting glances. Specific habits. Quiet quirks, just observations. Little things to admire from the edge of the room. If anything, you were just honored to be in their proximity, a quiet participant in the small, intimate rituals that made the band feel alive and just within reach.

As the tour progressed, you could swear the air had shifted. It wasn’t just in your head anymore. Their movements lingered a second longer. Small, deliberate gestures seemed aimed at you. Frank’s fingers brushing yours as he reached for a cable. Gerard’s head tilting whenever he caught your eye from across the stage.

Maybe it was wistful thinking, a trick your mind was playing, desperate for a little extra attention. And yet, the more you noticed, the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t real. Every shared look, every subtle interaction, built a current between you and them, electric and quiet, threading through the backstage chaos.

Once during soundcheck, you were adjusting the levels on Mikey’s monitor pack. Crouched low, focused on the dials, your foot caught the edge of a cable. You stumbled, heart leaping as you tried to regain balance.

Before you could fully topple over, Frank quickly reached out and grabbed your waist, steadying you and pulling you upright. His hands pressed firmly just long enough for you to regain balance. The warmth of his body and the pressure of his fingers wrapped around you made your pulse spike, leaving you dizzy and hyper-aware of the contact.

“Careful there.” He chuckles, voice, low and poised, the faint scent of him filling your senses.

He stepped back quickly, giving you just enough room to stand on your own. Your hands shook as you continued adjusting the monitor pack, but your eyes kept flicking toward Frank, noticing every glance in your direction, every subtle movement, every rapid heartbeat.

You were still catching your breath from Frank’s sudden grip when you felt it, the weight of Gerard’s gaze from in the wings. He was leaning against the edge of a table, arms crossed loosely, quiet as always, but his eyes were sharp, tracking the moment you and Frank had shared. Not accusatory, not glaring, just observant.

Your chest tightened. The brief glance he gave held something you couldn’t name. A flicker of curiosity, maybe amusement, maybe something deeper, and it made the flush in your cheeks crawl higher. Even from across the stage, his presence pressed in, quiet but unreadable.

You had to be imagining things.

There was no way they could be watching you so closely, noticing every little shift, every subtle movement you made. They were probably just keeping an eye on you, making sure one of their crew member’s didn’t get hurt. That was all it was. Nothing more.

Another time before a show, Gerard asked you to help with his stage makeup. It was unusual, given the makeup artists usually swarming backstage, but tonight it felt quieter, more contained. You helped him paint fake blood splotches onto his face, your hands steady even as your pulse betrayed you, aware of how easily this moment could slip into something else.

Gerard’s face was calm, unreadable, but he held perfectly still as you dabbed on makeup. Every small movement felt amplified. Your fingers brushed his skin more than once, pausing a fraction of a second longer. He didn't flinch or pull away, remaining steady, as if trusting you to continue. You became keenly aware of the lack of space, the warmth radiating from him, how your knees nearly touched, and how, simply by leaning in, you could close the gap entirely.

When you finished, he glanced at his reflection and reached out, catching your hand lightly before you could pull it back. His touch was brief but deliberate. “Missed a spot here,” he said, smiling. “Perfect.”

Before you could answer, he leaned in just slightly, tilting his head in that teasing way that reminded you of Frank. His voice dropped, softer now, meant only for you. “You know,” he murmured, “I might start expecting this every night.”

His eyes stayed on yours, steady and unhurried, daring you to say something, daring you not to. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with tension.

The moment broke with the creak of the door.

Frank stepped inside without knocking, jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes already scanning the room as if he owned it. His gaze landed on the two of you standing too close, your hand still caught in Gerard’s. Something unreadable flickered across his face before it smoothed into something almost casual.

“Show’s in ten,” Frank said, voice easy, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

Gerard released your hand slowly, deliberately, as if he knew exactly who was watching. He turned just enough to face Frank, blocking you from view for half a second longer than necessary. “Yeah,” he replied. “We’re good.”

Frank’s mouth twitched. He stepped closer, close enough that you felt the shift in the air again, different now, charged in another direction. His attention finally flicked to Gerard’s makeup, then back to you. “Didn’t know you were on makeup duty now,” he said lightly.

“Special request,” Gerard answered, glancing back at you, his smile faint but knowing.

Frank hummed, noncommittal, then reached out, thumb brushing beneath Gerard’s jaw as if checking the work. It was casual on the surface, but his touch lingered just long enough to make the gesture feel deeper. Charged. “Looks convincing enough,” he said. “Very nice.”

Gerard didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned into it slightly, eyes never leaving Franks. “Told you she was good.”

Your pulse picked up again.

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between them. Then Frank stepped back, breaking the spell, finally looking at you fully. His expression softened, just a touch. “You coming out with us?” he asked. “Crowd’s waiting.”

You nodded, though your thoughts felt tangled, caught between the way Gerard watched you from behind Frank and the way Frank’s attention lingered, as if he were already planning something.

As you moved toward the door, Gerard leaned in close, his mouth near your ear. “Careful,” he murmured, barely audible. “He notices things.”

Ahead of you, Frank paused, just long enough to glance back over his shoulder. His eyes flicked between the two of you, sharp, knowing.

“Oh,” he said quietly, a smile playing at his mouth. “I already did.”

The door swung open, the roar of the crowd spilling in, but the tension followed you both onto the stage, unresolved and very much alive.

You lost it after that.

You couldn’t help yourself. Old habits truly do die hard, the ones that make you feel guilty even as you give in. Lying alone in your hotel room that night, you found yourself scrolling through old yet familiar pages of the same fics about the two of them, stories you had read countless times before years ago, the ones that seemed to know everything you could never say out loud.

Your thumb lingered over the screen as if you could draw the heat from the words into your skin, imagining Gerard leaning close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, hear his heartbeat even. Imagining Frank watching from just a step away, eyes deliberate and knowing, claiming attention in that slow, careful way that left you tense and achingly aware of where you were, what you wanted, and what you weren’t supposed to want.

Every paragraph made your chest tighten, every sentence made your pulse spike as the line between memory and fiction blurred. Words on the screen felt as immediate as a brush of fingers against your skin, and you found yourself imagining the three of you, close enough that the heat of proximity burned against your ribs, no words left unsaid or touches unmade. The quiet, almost cruel way desire hovered between them.

The next day, everyone could tell you were unrested, with dark circles under your eyes as you made the rounds between dressing rooms.

Your steps were slow, each movement heavy with the memory of the night before, your thoughts tangled and restless. The chatter and laughter of the crew and other performers seemed distant, almost muffled, as if you were moving through a haze.

Of course, Gerard noticed, possessing the same silent demeanor, as if he was looking right through you. His gaze followed you just long enough to make your pulse quicken, that quiet, reserved attention that never asked for permission but demanded it anyway. He knew something was up with you.

In Frank’s dressing room, he was quick to notice your unusual behavior. His sharp eyes didn’t miss the way your movements slowed, the way your fingers lingered on the items you were organizing, the subtle tension in your shoulders. He didn’t comment right away, just leaned slightly against the doorframe, calm and deliberate, letting you squirm under his quiet scrutiny.

“You seem… off,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, meant only for you. There was no accusation in it, only observation, and it made your pulse spike despite yourself.

You swallowed, trying to mask the lingering effects of the night before. “Just tired,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow even as you said them.

Frank’s gaze sharpened, studying you like he always did, noticing the small betrayals your body couldn’t hide: the quickened breath, the subtle flush on your neck, the way your eyes flicked toward the doorway every time you sensed movement. He took a deliberate step closer, the air between you thickening, charged with that quiet, almost unbearable tension you had learned to feel whenever he was near. “You sure you’re okay?

“Yeah,” you said, a little too quickly, the word coming out before you could soften it. “Anything else you need?”

“Nope.”

In your haze, you didn’t notice you had left your phone on Frank’s counter. Or the way he picked it up after you had left, casual at first, as if he were going to find the person who had left it behind. But then his eyes flicked to the screen, and he paused, catching sight of the tabs still open from last night.

Frank’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile, like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or impressed. He scrolled through just enough to confirm what he already suspected: the proof of your restless thoughts, the stories you’d been reading, the way you had been thinking about him, and Gerard, long after the night had gone quiet.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Just holding the phone, the pause, the weight of his gaze, Frank slipped out of his dressing room and walked down the hall toward Gerard's. Each step was measured, quiet but heavy with intention, as if he were carrying a secret that would shift everything the moment it reached its destination.

By the time he reached Gerard’s door, Frank lingered for a beat, hand poised, like he was savoring the moment before crossing the threshold. The pause was deliberate, teasing, intimate even from afar, especially as he imagined how everything would play out.

The adrenaline from the show had woken you up a little bit, shaking off some of the haze that was weighing on you all day. Your movements were sharper now, your mind more alert, but the tension in your chest remained, a low, persistent hum that reminded you of last night and everything that had followed.

Towards the end of the show, the stage manager called you over and said that Gerard wanted to see you afterwards. Your pulse quickened, the energy from the performance running through your veins, but now mingled with a nervous tension that made your chest tight.

When you entered his dressing room, Gerard was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, calm and relaxed, but the quiet intensity in his eyes kept you rooted in place.

Turning to the other side of the room, you could feel your blood run cold as you saw Frank sitting on the couch, holding your phone casually between his legs.

You were terrified.

Not the kind that made you want to run, but the kind that froze you in place, rooted your feet to the floor as your pulse roared in your ears. Your breath felt shallow, uneven, every instinct screaming that something had shifted the moment you turned your head.

Gerard noticed immediately. His posture didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened, focused entirely on you. “Hey,” he said quietly, not unkind, but firm enough to pull your attention back. “Easy.”

“You left your phone in my room,” Frank said, his voice low and deliberate, casual on the surface but carrying a weight that made your chest tighten instantly. He held it up slightly, the screen glowing softly, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of how small the room felt, how close he was, how deliberate his attention had become.

You flushed, words catching in your throat. “I… must have,” you managed, trying to keep your voice steady, though your pulse betrayed you.

Gerard’s eyes flicked to the phone and then back to you, calm but unyielding, his presence pressing against you in a way that left no room to escape. “Seems like you’re forgetful tonight,” he said, a teasing note undercutting the quiet intensity in his gaze.

Frank’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “Or distracted,” he added, holding the phone just a little longer than necessary, letting the moment stretch, letting every heartbeat and glance between the three of you thrum with tension.

You shifted slightly, your hands instinctively moving as if to reach for the phone, but they hovered midair, aware that every small movement was being watched, measured, and savored. The space between you, Frank, and Gerard felt impossibly charged, intimate in ways that made your skin tingle and your pulse spike.

Frank reached the phone out to you, but as your fingers hovered, he stopped you, holding it just out of reach. “Just one question,” he said, voice low, almost a purr, letting the words hang in the charged air between you.

You froze, breath catching, pulse hammering wildly in your ears. Every instinct told you to snatch the phone and run, but the way he held it, and Gerard’s  steady gaze bore into you, made it impossible to move.

Frank’s smirk deepened, slow and knowing. “What were you thinking about last night?” His eyes searched yours, giving nothing away but promising everything.

Your hands hovered uselessly near the phone, every heartbeat stretching long and tense. The room felt impossibly small, the air thick, and the weight of their combined attention pressed in, intimate and unrelenting.

Frank leaned forward slightly, still holding the phone, letting the smallest fraction of space remain between your hands and it, teasing, deliberate. “Answer the question first,” he said softly. “Then you can have it back.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest, fingers still hovering near the phone. Every instinct urged you to snatch it and escape the weight of their attention, but the deliberate closeness of Gerard and the quiet, teasing intensity of Frank held you in place.

“I… I was thinking about…,” you started, then faltered, shame flooding your cheeks as the words caught in your throat.

“Hmmm?” Frank prompted.

“Thinking about you,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks heated instantly, pulse spiking at the sound of your own words.

Frank’s smirk widened slightly, slow and knowing, as if your answer confirmed exactly what he had suspected. “Mhm,” he murmured, almost to himself, letting the word hang, tasting it.

Gerard’s eyes darkened, steady and unrelenting, his presence pressing closer, just enough that the warmth of him brushed your side. “Just him?” he asked softly, low, deliberate, letting the weight of the question hang like a promise.

You couldn’t answer. Your voice felt trapped in your chest, caught somewhere between fear and anticipation.

“Please,” you finally blurted, words tumbling over themselves, “Just give me my phone and you’ll never hear from me again. I… I apologize for being so… unprofessional.”

The room fell silent.

“You think we’re firing you?” Gerard said, glancing at Frank.

For a moment, neither of them gave anything away, their expressions unreadable, until a slow, almost wicked grin spread across Frank’s face, sharp with mischief and something far more deliberate.

Frank opened his mouth to say something else, some sharp remark aimed at Gerard, but Gerard cut him off with one look. Not annoyed. Not angry. Just quiet and loaded.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Gerard scowled.

Frank huffed out a laugh.

Their eyes locked again, the bickering thinning into something electric. You barely had time to register the shift before Gerard stepped closer to Frank, grabbing him by his jacket collar.

“Drop it.”

Frank didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, smile gone now, replaced with something intent. “Make me.”

For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Gerard’s hand stayed at Frank’s collar, not tightening, not pulling away either, the tension between them thick enough to taste before Gerard turned to you fully.

“Show me,” Gerard said, but the mockery softened, edged now with something more searching than commanding. “What I was doing to him in your stories.”

Frank glanced between the two of you, curiosity flickering across his face, then lifted his hands slightly in a wordless pause. “Only if you want to,” he adds quietly.

The room holds its breath.

Your pulse thunders in your ears, heat crawling up your spine. You didn’t move right away, but you didn’t step back either. Their attention stayed on you, steady, expectant, not pushing.

Frank tilted his head, watching you closely now. “You just gonna stand there?”

They both look at you, eyes sharp, reading the hesitation in your gaze. Frank’s smirk softened into a knowing grin, and he tilted his head just slightly, understanding instantly.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, mock disbelief threading through the words. “Have you even done any of the things you were reading about?”

Your cheeks burned, hot and heavy with shame, and you couldn’t stop the small, embarrassed laugh that escaped despite yourself.

Gerard’s lips twitched, trying and failing to hide a grin, the quiet intensity in his gaze flickering with amusement. “Not a single thing?” he asked, voice low, deliberate, letting the teasing hang.

Frank leaned back just slightly, phone still forgotten for the moment, eyes glinting with that sharp, mischievous light. “You’re adorable,” he said softly, letting the word brush against you like a touch, teasing and intimate all at once.

“Such a little pervert,” Frank murmured, a playful edge to his voice. He beckoned toward you, fingers curling slowly, deliberately, letting the invitation hang in the charged air. “Come here.”

Your pulse spiked, chest tightening as every instinct warned you to hesitate, but you didn’t. Something in the way he looked at you, the teasing glint in his eyes, made it impossible to resist.

You stepped closer, each movement careful, measured, aware of Gerard just behind you, his presence steady and pressing, watching every inch of the small space between you and Frank.

​​Frank’s smirk deepened as you neared, eyes flicking to yours with quiet amusement. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and intimate, “Just like that.”

Frank didn’t wait any longer. He leaned in, lips brushing yours in a deliberate, teasing kiss. It was soft at first, testing, hesitant, letting you respond on your own terms. Your chest tightened, pulse spiking, every nerve alert as the world narrowed to the press of his lips, the warmth of him, the quiet hush of the room.

He guided you onto the couch, keeping the kiss gentle but insistent, lips pressing just long enough to make your heart race, tongue swiping over your bottom lip in a question as you parted your lips just enough for him to slip inside.

Your chest tightened, pulse hammering, every nerve alert as you responded tentatively at first, then with more certainty, letting the kiss deepen slowly. His hands settled on your hips, warm and steady, grounding you while letting the tension grow.

Gerard shifted slightly behind you, the warmth of him brushing your back, steady, magnetic, and impossible to ignore. His gaze followed every motion, eyes dark and intent, a quiet, deliberate amusement flickering across his features.

Frank’s lips moved against yours with deliberate patience, teasing and unhurried, savoring the way you responded. “Relax,” he murmured softly, letting the charged silence stretch, leaving you in control even as the air around you throbbed with anticipation.

The space between the three of you felt impossibly small, thick with unspoken desire. Every heartbeat, every breath, every glance magnified, leaving you fully aware of the heat and closeness threading through the room.

All was good, the world narrowing to the press of Frank’s lips and the warmth of Gerard behind you.

Then Frank bounces his thigh.

You stare at him in shock as he builds a rhythm, light and and teasing, sending heat straight up your spine and into your core.

The movements become sharper, each shift pressing against the seam of your jeans like lightning. A new layer of warmth began spreading across your body, sharp and insistent as you looped your hands around his neck for support, moaning softly into his mouth.

You begin moving with him, grinding down on his knee until the wetness pooling in your panties becomes impossible to ignore.

Frank pulls back slightly, signature smirk tugging at his lips, eyes dark and amused. “You feeling that?” he murmured, voice low, letting the tension between you simmer as you nod, crimson blush flooding your cheeks.

Your breath catches, chest impossibly tight, aware of every glance as you look behind yourself at Gerard, seeking some reaction, some anchor.

“Don’t look at me,” Gerard says, almost disinterested as his eyes flick back to Frank’s. “Look at him.”

The weight of his gaze pressed against you, steady and magnetic, and your focus snapped back to Frank, who began grinding you on his thigh as you whimpered, head swimming in pleasure, in the heat. Every subtle moment, the press of Frank’s lips against yours, the warmth of Gerard behind you, the faint smirk on Frank’s face, pulls you deeper into the charged space between them, fast approaching the edge.

Frank pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath, eyes dark, intent, lips parted. “Let go for me, sweet girl,” he murmurs softly, one look into his eyes all it takes. Your chest heaves, pulse hammering, every nerve ablaze with anticipation as pleasure crashes over you in soft waves.

Gerard’s voice cuts through the charged silence, low and mocking. “Is that the best you’ve got, Frankie?”

Frank’s eyes snapped to him, dark and sharp, smile vanishing into something serious, precise. In an instant, he lunges forward, pinning Gerard firmly against the couch, hands pressing into his chest with controlled force.

Gerard freezes, a flicker of surprise and challenge in his eyes, but Frank doesn’t relent, letting his face hover close, every inch of him radiating intensity. “Say it again,” he hisses, voice low and lethal, each word wrapped in restraint.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Frankie. I guess you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Before Frank can even take another breath, Gerard grabs him roughly by the hair, pulling him down onto his lips, teeth clacking, breaths hard and uneven as they wrestle for power, for control.

“Look at you,” Gerard growls against his lips, hand cupping the tent in Frank’s jeans.

“Haven’t changed one goddamn bit,” Gerard snaps, voice strained.

A loud slap rings through the room as Frank shoves Gerard back, the force enough to make the couch groan. Gerard doesn’t falter. A smug, dangerous smile plays across his lips, palm pressing the red mark beginning to form.

Frank’s breath comes out ragged, chest heaving, eyes hazy, pupils blown wide, tension radiating off him in waves that almost knock you back. Both of them swivel toward you, sharp, electric focus cutting through the haze, and suddenly the doorway feels impossibly far, impossibly small.

“I should… go,” you whisper, voice trembling, fear and fascination warring in your chest. Every instinct screams to run, to escape the raw, dangerous energy thrumming in the room. You were in way over your head at this point, yet some part of you couldn’t move, frozen by the intensity of their stares and the tension between them.

Frank stills immediately, pulling off of him and stepping closer to you. “Wait,” he says quietly, the edge in his voice now gone. “Just ignore this bastard.”

Gerard exhales sharply, rolling his eyes at Frank, looking back at you, softer now. “I’m sorry, baby. He just gets me so worked up.” A crooked, almost sheepish smile flickers across his face. “But you don’t owe us anything.”

The room holds its breath.

When you don’t step back, Frank’s hand finally settles at your back, warm and steady, grounding rather than pulling. “Come back,” he murmurs, gentle this time.

Gerard reaches out more cautiously, guiding you back down onto the couch only after you let him, his touch light, almost reverent. “We’ll be gentle,” Gerard says, voice low and sincere. “You deserve only the best, sweet thing.”

You stayed. Just barely, just long enough to let yourself sink back onto the couch, heart racing, aware of both of them hovering close. Every nerve in your body was on fire, but this time, it’s different.

Frank leans in first, calm and collected, lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. It’s soft at first, testing, letting you respond on your own terms.

Your fingers twitch, hovering at his shoulders before tentatively sliding into his hair, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. The heat between you two builds, slow and unrelenting.

Behind you, Gerard shifts closer, lips brushing your neck in slow, sensual patterns that make your head swim. His hands trace idle circles on your lower back, gentle yet deliberate, grounding you even as the sensations coil tighter through your body. When Frank finally leans back for air, Gerard chases your lips, stealing a smooth, sensual kiss, lips working against yours for a minute before settling close again.

Frank responds to the movement, returning back to you with a firmer, more insistent kiss. lips pressing harder, tongue teasing your mouth while his hands rest firmly on the front of your hips, anchoring you. The room feels impossibly small, charged with their presence, every brush of skin and glance magnified.

It’s almost too much to take in at once. “C-can you two slow down?” You manage to gasp out, voice trembling, breath ragged.

Immediately, both of them freeze, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze with puppy dog eyes. “I just need a second to… Aaah!” Frank doesn’t give you another second to breathe, shoving you into the cushions, lips working all over your neck, hands groping, touching, exploring.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing quick, apologetic kisses to your collarbone. “I just can’t wait any longer.” His hands explore rapidly, sliding up and down your hips, tracing your curves with deliberate, teasing pressure.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Frank?” Gerard growls, voice low but laced with annoyance, clearly irritated by the scene unfolding before him. His fingers flex slightly along your lower back, a quiet counter to Frank's teasing, his presence firm, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.

Frank pauses for a heartbeat, lips hovering near your skin, smirk twitching despite Gerard’s glare. “You love it,” he murmurs, voice dark, edged with mischief, pressing closer again, hands relentless. “Bet I can make her come more than you.”

Gerard just smirks, dangerous and calm, eyes ablaze. “Is that a challenge, dear boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Frank snaps, voice sharp, every ounce of his intensity focused on Gerard. His hands grip your hips a fraction tighter as he slides down your body in one smooth motion, settling between your legs.

Carefully, very carefully, Frank reaches for the button of your jeans, glancing back at you for a final confirmation that what he’s doing is okay. When he doesn’t see any hesitation in your eyes, he unbuckles your pants, pulling them down in one swift motion. Gerard makes quick work of your top, throwing it to the side of the room, fingers palming the swell of your breasts.

“So beautiful.”

Humiliatingly enough, your panties are soaked through, a shameful wet spot visible as frank smirks. “Cute.” 

Frank’s impatient. You know he is, the way his eyes are glazed over in desperation. It’s been so long since he’s had it, had someone like you. Wasting no time for pleasantries, he slips your panties down between your legs, greedily lapping at the wetness collecting at your core. He doesn’t waste another moment, greedily mouthing at you as he builds a pattern alternating between licking and sucking. His ministrations have you seeing stars, back arching off the mattress as Gerard looks down at you, cradling your head in his lap.

The pleasure builds steadily, rocking your hips against his mouth as he eats you like a man starved, eyes completely lost as he takes breaks in between to nip at the inside of your thighs. You’re a moaning mess, hands traveling into Frank's hair for purchase as you grind against his face.

From above you, Gerard looks down with wild eyes, hunger seeping out of every pore. “Help me out, sweetheart?” He says as you eye the tent in his pants. He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the questions as his eyes soften. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll teach you,” unbuckling his belt with one hand and throwing it aside. “Why don’t you start by taking it out first?”

You slowly cup his bulge, pulling the waistband of his boxers down in a singular motion. His cock springs free, wetness seeping out of the tip onto the couch. And what a sight it is, long and thick, tip flushed, veins protruding from the sides. He could break you with this thing if he isn’t careful. The thought makes your blood boil in lust as you gather the wetness on his tip, pumping his cock to spread it down his length.

You want to please him, want him to always look at you like this, praise you. Beg you. Reaching your head out, you give the tip a kitten lick, hesitant, looking up into his eyes as he nods down at you, giving you just enough encouragement to take it all the way into your mouth. You build a rhythm, alternating between little sucks and licks with the underside of your tongue.

“F-fuck yeah, just like that. Open up your mouth up a little more.” Gerard grunts, eyes hazy and unfocused as you take him in deeper, being mindful of your teeth as you alternate up the sides between patterns.

The dressing room becomes a symphony of sounds, wetness ringing out in an obscene way as the three of you get lost in the pleasure, in the sensations.

Frank slips two fingers inside of you, easy, no resistance with how wet you are for him. Carefully, he scissors his fingers to stretch you open, rutting his hips into the cushions to alleviate some pressure.

You’re about halfway down Gerard’s cock, gaining more and more confidence with his breathy groans, when you're suddenly shoved down to the base with no warning. You panic, lips tightening as you try not to accidentally bite down, looking up at Gerard in alarm.

“Sorry, hun. I like things a bit rough.” You gag on his length, obscene sounds filling the room as you quickly learn to open up your throat. He tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing you down to the hilt with every stroke, tears slipping down your cheeks from the efforts of keeping him down.

“You’re such a good girl,” Gerard grunts out, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every push.

Seeing him in such a state puts you in a frenzy, tears slipping down your cheeks as the pleasure builds and builds. Frank is grinding you against his face at this point, tongue working magic down on the little bead as your climax hits you suddenly, sharply, loud moans gagged by Gerard’s length as your body releases the hot tension.

Gerard releases your hair, panting heavily, pulling you off of him as you try to catch your breath, gasping loudly for air.

Frank unbuckles his belt, coaxing his painfully hard length out and passing it through your folds to gather the wetness as you shiver into him. “Spread yourself open for me,” he grunts huskily, barely hanging on.

Still dazed, you spread your folds as he presses the tip in. It’s so much, all at once, thick, heavy. What a heady feeling. You don’t have much time to think about it, not as Frank bottoms out with a harsh thrust of his hips, groaning so loudly his eyes roll into the back of his head. He sets a brutal pace, thrusting erratically as he hooks your legs over his elbows to keep you open.

You struggle to adjust, and Gerard notices this. “Calm down, Frank,” Gerard growls. “Do you want to come before she can even enjoy it?”

Frank growls under his breath, leaning in, lips brushing against yours in a rough, sharp kiss that leaves sparks trailing across your skin. The tension between them, and around you, thickens, crackling like electricity.

“She can take it,” he snarls, sucking marks into the skin of your neck, pinching and squeezing your nipples as you’re utterly consumed by him, his hands, his warmth.

Looking back at Gerard, you take his length back into your mouth, sucking so eagerly he throws his head back in surprise.

Frank is furious. The way Gerard is always teasing him, sneering at him, always pulling focus away. The way your attention keeps drifting anywhere but where Frank wants it.

And the worst part is, a part of him deep down that he would never admit to himself, likes it. These thoughts snowball, and one look at your hooded eyes as you suck Gerard off has him tipping over the edge, pulling out of you in one swift motion and shooting hot white ropes all over your stomach.

He hasn’t even fully recovered before Gerard is on him, rough hands forcing him back, tearing him away from you. “Move,” he snaps. “It’s my turn.”

Gerard doesn’t waste another second, flipping you around on your hands and knees as he settles behind you, guiding his cock to your entrance with one hand as he pushes into you.

Fuck. You were even better than he could’ve ever imagined, gummy heat pulsing around him euphoric with every drag along your walls. So wet, so warm, cunt clenching around his length so tight he knows you can feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein.

He presses his hand down on your back, arching your body gently to take him deeper. Frank settles in front of you, cock hard and still throbbing as you begin jerking him off with both hands.

Frank’s happy to let you go at your own pace, taking him into your mouth with exploratory licks, hollowing out your cheeks to make it tighter as you look up at him, lashes lowered. He wasn’t going to last long, not like this.

“You’re a natural, baby. So beautiful. So good to us,” Frank grunts, fingers holding back your hair as you take him deeper. “Still a pervert though. You like the way we’re fucking you? Stuffing your greedy little holes to the brim?”

You’re utterly blissed out, already so fucked out as you’re coming again, body locked in a rigid state of shock as the heat washes over you. Clenching down on Gerard’s length is heavenly, pleasure prolonged as he pounds you straight through it, unrelenting, fingers wrapping around your body to rub at your clit.

“Doin’ so good for me,” Gerard snarls, fisting your hair by the roots as he hoists your body up. “You like my cock? Like the way it stretches you?”

Gerard’s close, but he’ll push himself off for now, holding off his orgasm to watch you squirm. You’re scrambling, nonsensical sounds slipping out of your lips as you claw your nails into the couch cushions. He knows you’re a little too full, it’s a little too much, but he couldn’t stop even if he tried. Not in the way he’s fucking you mindless, almost fucking you dumb, slamming you forward into Frank’s cock with every snap of his hips.

Frank notices the hazy look in Gerard’s eyes, brows creasing with perspiration as his rhythm falters. “Pull out.” Gerard ignores him, creeping closer and closer to the edge with every passing second. “Gerard, I said pull out.” His pleas fall on deaf ears as Gerard’s eyes roll back, shooting as deep as he can get inside of you. The feeling is euphoric, the heat, the way it pools, the stickiness, and you’re coming again before you even realize it, vision going white as you clam up.

“You asshole!" Frank snarls as Gerard hoists you up onto his lap, still buried deep inside of you as he starts bouncing you on him.

“Oh, please. She enjoyed that, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Gerard teases, voice low and amused.

You nod, breath shaky. “M-more…”

In your lust-filled haze, you see Frank's jaw tighten, a vein standing out on his forehead, knuckles white. He looks ready to explode.

“You don’t wanna play by the rules, fine. I’m comin’ in.” He spits on his palm, coating his cock with even more lubrication as he roughly kicks your and Gerard’s legs open with his knee.

“I-I’m sorry, Frank, I’ll get off!” You whimper as Frank shoves you back down onto Gerard with a choked slam. “Stay still,” he barks, predatory look in his eyes forcing you into submission.

You and Gerard freeze, both staring at him in shock. Both of you are stunned at his actions, shocked faces apparent as he lines his tip up with your entrance, pushing in as best as he can. You scream, clawing at him as Gerard watches in alarm.

“W-wait, Frank, she isn’t ready for this…” Gerard says, panic breaking through his tone. Frank cuts him off, thrusting himself in all the way with a strained growl. It’s so tight, it’s so full he can barely move, already slightly regretting the decision as he sees your face contort in pain.

You mewl out, clutching Frank’s arms as you attempt to adjust to the thickness. It’s too much, feeling almost as if you’re being split in two. Frank watches you with bated breath as tears slip down your cheeks, choked sobs escaping your lips as you scratch weakly at him to get off.

“Doin’ amazing, sweetheart. Breathe for me,” Frank murmurs, kissing you slowly, as if he could kiss the pain away.

For a long minute, the three of you remain completely still, the room filled with steady panting as you adjust to their sizes, relaxing your lower muscles as best as you can. Gerard presses gentle kisses along your neck, slow and reassuring, hands tracing soothing circles over your hips in an effort to comfort you. After a moment, you nod at Frank to keep going.

Frank keeps a slow, steady rhythm, forehead pressed to yours, every motion deliberate, controlled, as if he’s memorizing every shiver, every gasp. His breaths mingle with yours, deep and heavy, pulling you into the moment.

Gerard watches you both from behind, eyes glazed over, utterly lost in the heavenly friction wrapping around his cock. He shifts slightly, pressing closer to you, letting the heat of the room and of Frank wash over him. A low, breathy moan escapes him, betraying just how much he’s enjoying it.

You arch into his chest. instinctively, the sensation making Gerard’s chest tighten as he also begins thrusting into you, alternating his movements with Frank.

It’s a long process: taking a little, pausing. Taking a little, gasping out from the sensations. The pleasure building is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before in your life, and both Frank and Gerard’s care, praise, and attention on you has your heart ready to explode out of your chest.

“Feel that?” Frank murmurs, pressing down on the bulge poking through your lower stomach. “How deep we are inside of you?”

You’re caught between them, every touch, every glance, every groan amplifying the heat coursing through you. And for a long moment, time feels suspended. You don’t fully register it yet, the wave of pleasure, until it’s crashing fully over you, sudden and overwhelming. You’re gasping, sucking a deep bruise on Frank’s shoulder in an attempt ground yourself as you ride it out, body trembling between them.

The feeling of you contracting around them so tightly sends them both over the edge. With a final devastating thrust, Frank releases into you, grunting and groaning so loud he’s sure anyone still at the venue can hear. Gerard’s not much better off, slamming into you, cum mixing with Frank's as he muffles his loud, loud moans of pleasure into your neck.

Everyone is exhausted, energy completely spent. You all lie there for a while, limbs tangled, bodies warm and heavy together. The room is quiet except for ragged breaths and the occasional soft sigh, Frank’s forehead resting against yours while Gerard lies in your hair, eyes half-lidded, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Even in the stillness, the tension lingers beneath the surface, a quiet hum of heat and anticipation. Slowly, they pull out of you one by one, combined fluids seeping out all over the couch.

After a long pause, Frank leans down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips, soft but lingering, grounding you in the warmth of the moment. Almost simultaneously, Gerard pulls your face toward him, brushing his lips over your cheek and then onto yours. You melt into his kiss, lips molding perfectly to his as he nips your bottom lip. You’re caught perfectly between the two of them, hearts and breaths intertwining.

Gerard is the first to move, pulling Frank away from you and onto his knees, his hands firm and commanding, leaving you momentarily suspended between them as your heart races with anticipation.

“Clean me up.”

Without hesitation, Frank takes him down to the hilt with a practiced ease, nose grinding up against the hairs on Gerard’s pelvis as he maintains eye contact, lashes lowered slightly.

There’s no fanfare, no fight. Not even a single gag from Frank as Gerard roughly fucks into his mouth, fisting his hair as he pulling him down to the hilt with every rough push.

“T-that’s it, take it all.” Gerard grunts, control fraying by the wayside, lost in the heaven that is Frank’s mouth.

“I’ve missed this.” Gerard moans shamelessly, pulling Frank off of him slowly with a satisfied sigh.

“I’ve missed you.”

Frank groans softly, leaning back just enough to let Gerard take the lead, eyes dark and unreadable as he presses a slow kiss to his lips. Frank melts into it for a heartbeat, then deepens the kiss, hands brushing Gerard’s chest as it slides up his jaw. The tension between them is soft, intimate, and you watch, heart racing, caught in the swirl of heat and shared intimacy.

Smiling, you glance between them, reaching for your clothes, but Frank’s arm catches you, stopping your movement.

He looks over at Gerard, the look they share devious, smiles curling before their attention snaps back to you.

“You think we’re done?” Frank teases, voice low and playful, while Gerard smirks, eyes dark and mischievous.

“We’re just getting started.” 

“frankie. heel,” gerard snapped, pointing at the ground near his feet. frank’s eyes shot to the doorway, face immediately flushed with embarrassment. “now,” he ordered, following frank with his eyes as he slinked off the bed and towards where gerard stood. you sat up slowly as he kneeled at his feet. gerard shook his head, running his fingers through frank’s hair. “what’d i say this morning, huh? you remember what i told you?” frank squeaked as gerard tugged his head back by a fistful of hair. “i- i thought you’d be back later, ‘m sorry,” he whimpered, crying out as gerard pressed down against frank’s ever-hard dick with the toe of his shoe.

he shook his head once more, releasing his grip and turning to walk towards where you perched on the bed. gerard cooed as you scooted back towards the wall, giving you a soft smile. he sat sideways on the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to him. “c’mere, sugar. you’re not in trouble.”

you crawled toward him hesitantly, glancing between him and frank. frank had made his way to kneel beside gerard, pouting as he watched the two of you. you leaned into his touch as gerard scratched your head, humming pleasantly at the sensation. “i know you wanted to wait for me, sweetheart. you always do what you’re told, don’t you?” you nodded, grinning as he kissed your forehead. frank whined from below you, nudging gerard’s knee with his head. gerard looked down at him, caressing his cheek softly. “what am i gonna do with you, frankie? you know how much i hate to be mean.” frank frowned, gazing up at him with big eyes.

“‘m sorry, i’m really sorry,” he pleaded, nuzzling against gerard’s thigh. you almost giggled, realizing how easy it was for frank to submit to gerard. he really only acted up when it was just the two of you - most times, gee was there to put him back in his place before he got too out of hand. not that you minded, though. you loved how handsy frank got when you were alone. gerard patted his cheek twice, standing and crossing the room to the closet. “stay, frank,” he said over his shoulder, like he could see through the back of his head. frank huffed as he took his hands off the mattress, folding them back in his lap. you did laugh at this, sending frank into a fit of hushed giggles as well.

gee turned around holding two matching black collars and leashes, only differentiated by the little silver name plates that dangled from the center. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh as he raised an eyebrow, crossing the room to buckle frank’s collar around his neck. yours followed, along with the clip of each leash, and he smiled at the way you both looked up at him. it was clear how much he got off on the power trip. “so pretty,” he remarked, almost to himself.

gerard laid back on the bed, pulling you into his lap. he moved a pillow to lay beside him, patting it and clicking his tongue. frank came to it curiously, looking to gerard for approval as he straddled the pillow. he nodded, much to frank’s evident disappointment. “did you forget you were in trouble, pup? that’s all you get. and if you cum before she does it’ll be worse.” frank huffed, fidgeting with a loose thread on the pillow’s hem. gerard turned his attention to you, looping the handles of both leashes around his wrist to free his hands. his hands ran up and down your thighs, massaging them gently.

your body flooded with warmth as he played with the hem of your panties, squirming against the growing tent in his jeans. he grinned, watching you paw at his waistband. “go on, sweetheart.”

face red with embarassment, you fumbled with his belt buckle a little too desperately. your hands shook slightly, feeling the eyes of both of your boyfriends burning into your skin. frank huffed next to you as you finally freed gerard from the confines of his zipper, shifting restlessly against the pillow between his legs. gerard lifted his hips a bit, helping you to shuffle his jeans down enough to give you some room to work with. he sucked in a breath through his teeth as you gave him a few slow strokes, swallowing the drool that had begun to pool in your mouth.

gee pulled you down to him by your leash, crashing his lips against yours feverishly. he gripped your hip with his free hand, bringing you up to settle against his cock. you whimpered into his mouth needily, wordlessly begging for more. he leaned his forehead against yours, panting as he pulled away. “here- c’mon, sit up a second,” he instructed, pulling your panties to the side with ease. he let you rock against his tip for a moment, groaning at the way it shined with your slick. you moaned outwardly in sync as you lowered yourself down onto him, screwing your eyes shut at the slight stretch.

frank whined as he watched gerard fill you, rutting against the pillow. he dropped forward onto his stomach, nudging gerard’s hand with his head. he moaned into the mattress as gee ran his fingers through his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. you busied yourself with trying to find a rhythm with your hips, your hands pressed against gerard’s chest to support you. you stared in awe as he pulled frank’s face to his by his leash, tongues and teeth clashing in a heated kiss. frank couldn’t stay quiet, panting and moaning into gerard’s mouth pathetically as he desperately sought his release. you picked up your pace as they pulled away from one another, strings of spit connecting their lips.

gerard’s hand settled on your hip, helping you to bounce on his length. he thumbed at your clit with the other, a breathy laugh escaping his chest as you squeezed around him. “that’s it, sugar, fuck-“ he choked out, throwing his head back against the pillow. you felt increasingly sensitive as his cock dragged along your walls, the combination of sensations almost too much for you to handle. you teared up as you neared your release, vision blurring as you whimpered with each thrust. “you’re okay baby, you’re close, huh? ‘s okay, i’ve got you,” he panted, hand sliding up to your waist to better support you as your orgasm hit you all at once.

frank basically sobbed as he came, hips stuttering against the pillow as he listened to your overstimulated cries and mewls while gerard dragged you up and down his length. gee shushed you sympathetically, cooing praises in your ear. he pressed his face against your neck, whimpering against your skin as he followed frank. he rocked his hips against yours gently, holding you against his chest as he filled you completely. the room fell mostly silent in the moment following, the three of you catching your breaths. gerard hummed, patting your back to encourage you to sit up enough for him to remove your collar. he undid frank’s next, tossing them to the ground to be dealt with later. he kissed frank’s head as he curled up against gerard’s side, petting the both of you while you recovered.

“you guys did so good,” he said after a few minutes, kissing each of your temples. “always so good. best puppies i could ask for,” he chuckled, fingers trailing up and down your spine. you giggled, tangling your fingers with frank’s. he squeezed your hand in response, bringing your knuckles to his lips. the warmth was nice, and it felt good to be able to hold both of them while you came down. you laid there together until it became noticeably uncomfortable, your afterglow wearing off and bringing everything into perspective. frank and gerard were still almost fully clothed, and your tshirt stuck to you with sweat. you peeled yourself from gerard’s chest, laughing as you could tell they’d both come to the same realization.

You’d known the band for a while now, back when they were still nobodies, playing to twenty drunk kids in the damp basement of the Loop Lounge. You were the bartender that night, tapping cheap beers while Gerard screamed about vampires and Frank violated his guitar across the tiny stage. 

You got talking while you closed up and they de-rigged, and before you knew it, you’d become part of every rehearsal in the Way’s garage. Sprawled across an ancient corduroy couch that was chronically dusted with Dorito crumbs and cigarette ash, like you’d always belonged there. 

You’d catch Gerard staring when he thought you weren’t looking. You’d just smirk, and he’d snap his gaze away immediately, ears turning scarlet under that mess of black hair.

Then one night after a show, he finally stopped shying away from your advances. Liquid courage will do that. You leaned against the venue’s concrete wall, giving him that lazy, knowing smile you knew drove him insane. And for once, he held your gaze. 

Ten minutes later you had him pinned against the bathroom door, learning all about his whiny moans as they echoed off the tiles, your hand working inside his tight jeans. That was the beginning. 

After that, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, seizing every stolen opportunity. Mouths crashing behind amps during soundchecks, his fingers slipping under your shirt in the dim rehearsal space while the rest of the band argued over setlists just feet away, you’d breathe heavy and try not to laugh when someone almost caught you. He was completely smitten, pupils dilating every time you looked at him.

Saturday night, house party at the Way house. The place was a glorious disaster, reeking of greasy pizza and cheap beer, floors tacky enough to tug at your feet, music throbbing through the walls. Some awful pop-punk mixtape kept getting restarted, like whoever was in charged refused to let the night progress. People were scattered everywhere, some in deep, philosophical conversations and others dancing like idiots with red cups sloshing in their hands.

You were alone in the kitchen, pouring up your third vodka shot, when Frank sauntered in.

“Keep pouring, baby.” He slid an empty shot glass across the counter with two fingers.

You flashed him a grin and filled his to the brim, clinked glasses, and threw it back. The liquor burned its way down your throat, heat surging through your veins. You grimaced, eyes squeezed shut, and when you opened them Frank was in front of you, palms flat on the counter on either side of your hips.

“Hi...” you breathed, eyes wide like marbles.

He gazed at you drowsily, lips curving in a wicked smile. He leaned in close enough that his breath fanned hot across your neck, the faint scent of his cologne and sweat making your head spin along with the alcohol.

“Just needed this,” he murmured, reaching past you for a beer. You swallowed thickly, feeling his hair brush your cheek, and then he was gone, leaving you gripping the counter and trying to remember how lungs worked.

There had always been some kind of quiet, unresolved tension with Frank. Gerard had, in a way, claimed you first, but the looks you and Frank shared were undeniable. And you knew he'd noticed it too—the way he flirted with you when no one was watching, and pretending it wasn't intentional.

Gerard appeared a second later, cheeks flushed from booze, offering that shy little smile that always made you stupidly warm. He wrapped his arms low around your waist and pulled you in. You tensed a little, still absently thinking about that moment with Frank.

“How’s my girl doin’?” he slurred, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss under your jaw.

You leaned into his touch, laughing fondly—until Ray’s voice rang out from the living room.

“Guys! Never Have I ever!”

You pulled apart reluctantly and migrated to the living room, where a messy circle of people had already formed on the carpet. You dropped into the lone armchair across from the couch, now occupied by Gerard and Frank. Ray plopped down on the armrest next to you. Mikey had already vanished with some girl—you only caught a glimpse of her pink-streaked platinum hair in the stairway.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Ray said, sitting up straight, clutching a beer can. “Never have I ever… hooked up with someone in this room.”

Pretty much everyone drank except Frank.

Gerard flipped him off, laughing. “Fuck off, Frank!”

Frank just shrugged, smirking into his beer, and stood. “Gonna take a piss.” He ruffled Gerard’s hair on his way out, earning a half-hearted swat.

You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, voice dropping low for dramatics. “Never have I ever… come in my pants from someone just talking dirty to me.”

Gerard made a choked little sound. You watched his throat bob, the way he shifted in his seat, denim suddenly way too tight across his crotch. Frank, leaning in the doorway now, bit his lip and grinned, endeared by Gerard’s awkwardness.

Gerard cleared his throat. His turn. He stared straight at you, voice barely carrying over the music. “Never have I ever… been in love with someone in this room.”

He didn’t drink. Neither did you. Tension thickened.

Frank pushed off the doorframe, eyes locked on you. “Never have I ever… had a threesome.”

He didn’t drink either. But you did.

You brought the cup to your lips and tipped it back slow, cheeks flushing pink. Ray wooped. Someone yelled “Get it!” Gerard’s eyes went comically wide. Frank just looked amused, tongue darting out to trace his lip ring like he was already imagining it.

The party thinned out, people drifting off into the cold Jersey night, taxi headlights flashing through the curtains. Ray passed out on the couch, dribbling on someone’s forgotten sweater. The music was just a low buzz now, downgraded to something slower. Red solo cups were scattered everywhere, alongside popcorn glued to sticky floorboards.

You found yourself back in the kitchen, drinking leftover wine straight from the bottle, pulse still thumping from the game. Gerard followed first, then Frank, the three of you orbiting each other in the dim yellow light above the kitchen island, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

The game had stirred something in you. Your desire for them sharpened, the idea of having them both, and suddenly it felt less like a fantasy and more like something you could just... take.

You looked between them, Gerard’s nervous hope, Frank’s hungry certainty, and felt something inside you snap.

You sank slowly to your knees, the floor panel cool against your bare skin, and reached for both their belts at once, fingers hooking beneath leather and tugging them closer.

Metal clinked. Zippers rasped.

Two sharp inhales above you.

And then the soft, heavy slap of them springing free.

You wrapped a hand around Gerard first, stroking once, firm and familiar. His breath hitched, a whispered “what the fuck,” slipped out of him, his face burning crimson even in the low light, but he didn’t back away.

Before he could form another thought you turned and took Frank into your mouth in one smooth slide. Frank’s head snapped back with a groan, fingers tangling in your hair.

“Shit—such a good fucking girl,” he rasped, voice cracking in the middle, pupils blown wide and fixed on you like you were a gift from above.

You hummed around him with a smug smirk, then pulled off just long enough to switch your mouth on Gerard, hand working Frank in steady, slick strokes. Gerard let out another “what the fuck”, louder now, high and wrecked, hands fluttering like he didn’t know whether to touch you or hold himself up against the counter.

Frank kept murmuring it between gritted teeth, the praise coming out rougher every time you took him deeper. “Such a good fucking girl—fuck—look at you—“

They were both shaking now, hips chasing your hands or your mouth in helpless thrusts. The kitchen clock ticked loud, the CD from the living room had stopped playing somewhere along the line, air filled with the slick sounds of your determination instead.

You guided them closer by the hips, both your hands working them in fervent strokes, mouth alternating faster now, tongue swirling around each tip in quick, greedy turns. They were both close, whines louder, praises dirtier. 

Suddenly you felt Gerard twitch, his hand flew to your hair, almost tangling with Frank’s, and then he was coming hard down your throat, hot and thick pulses you swallowed eagerly, licking him clean while he shook. 

The sight unraveled Frank. He grabbed your head toward his cock with both hands, fucking your mouth, hips stuttering as he spilled seconds later, flooding your tongue until you’d taken all of it.

They stood trembling, chests heaving, fingers lacily playing with your hair, trading dazed glances with each other and down at you, stunned and wrecked by what just happened.

Reader’s POV:

I was standing on the train platform way before the whistle blew.

Every second on the platform made me feel the weight of what I might lose. After two years of silence, fear filled the air, causing my hands to shake and my heart to race.

Two years of waiting felt endless.

Two fucking years of letters that stopped arriving in the mail.

Two years of praying that I wouldn’t get a knock on my front door.

Two whole years of imagining him dead, alive, or somewhere in between.

The announcement was abruptly cut through the air:

“The 309th is coming home.”

And that’s when I saw him. My Gerard.

It was odd, really. He somehow looked older and younger at the same time. His hair was longer, his face gaunt, and his shoulders were so tense, it looked like the world might come crashing down over him at any moment. I could see his eyes scanning the crowd frantically.

The moment we locked eyes, I could see the resolve in his gaze soften.

“Gee,” I breathed.

It was like his whole body, right then and there, collapsed into relief. And then he was moving. Running. I barely had time to open my arms before he’d wrapped himself around me, burying his face in my neck and choking out sobs. I could feel him burrowing deeper as if he were trying to breathe me in and prove to himself that I was real.

I feel him shaking.

“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m right here, my love.”

He doesn’t let go. Not even when the crowd has pushed around us.

“I thought-” his voice cracked against my skin, barely more than a breath. “I thought I wasn’t gonna make it back to you.”

I slide my hand up the back of his head, fingers burying in his longer, tangled hair. “Don’t say that,” I whisper, though it trembles out of me like a plea. “Don’t even think it.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes red and glassy, scanning every inch of my face like he’s terrified it’ll vanish.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says, voice shaking. “After the letters stopped. After everything. I thought you would’ve moved on. And I… I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

I cradle his face in both hands, cold palms pressed to his warm, trembling skin. “Gerard. I waited every day. Every single fucking day. Do you hear me?”

He nods, but there’s doubt in it. Like he can’t quite believe that he deserves to be waited for.

His thumb brushes my bottom lip, a soft, reverent touch. “You look the same,” he whispers. “But you don't. You look... stronger. Different. God, you’re breathtaking.”

A broken little laugh escapes me. “Honey, I’ve aged two years waiting for you. That’s all you’re seeing.”

He leans in until his forehead touches mine, our breaths mixing, close enough that I can feel every tremor in him. “I missed you so much it hurt,” he whispers. “I used to dream about your voice. Your hands. The way you said my name.”

Emotion claws up at my throat as I swipe a tear off his cheek with my thumb. “All I’ve wanted for these past two years is to hear you say mine, Gerard.”

He swallows hard. “Your name?”

“My name. My nickname. Anything. I just want to hear you talk.”

His eyes flutter shut like he’s overwhelmed at the request.

“Baby,” he breathes, voice cracking.

“My love.”

“Sugar. I didn’t think I’d ever get to tell you that again.”

And at the last one, my knees buckled, and my vision blurred as I wrapped my arms tighter around him, pressing my face into the curve of his shoulder. “You’re home,” I whisper. “That’s all that matters.”

Gerard clings to me like I might slip through his fingers if he eases his grip. His hands tremble where they hold my waist, sliding up my back, touching me like he’s relearning every inch.

“I need you to tell me this is real,” he murmurs into my hair. “Please.”

So I take his face in my hands again and kiss him softly, slowly, and steadily. Grounding. He gasps into it, a desperate sound pulled from somewhere deep and wounded.

When I pull back, he’s staring at me like I just put breath back into his lungs.

“It’s real,” I whisper, my thumb brushing his cheek. “Everything about this is real.”

He exhales shakily and drops his forehead to my shoulder again, clinging to me like I’m the only solid thing in the world.

I’m still holding Gerard when I hear footsteps approach. Slow and careful, like the person doesn’t want to intrude.

Gerard stiffens almost immediately. Not pulling away from me, not reaching for whoever it is. Just freezing. That soldier’s instinct again, like he thinks he has to shield me from anything that comes near us.

I brush my hand down his back once, soothing. He breathes out, letting me know that it helped.

Then a voice cuts the tension in the air.

“...You gonna act like you don’t see me, man?”

Frank. It has to be.

It’s gentle, but there’s an edge under it. The kind that comes from being bone-tired and pretending not to be.

Gerard’s breath stutters. He turns his head, and I look up over his shoulder.

I recognise him immediately from the photo Gerard sent me before the letters stopped arriving. Only he looks smaller in person. Smaller, but cut cleaner by the world. Like something had chiselled him down to the truest parts.

He gives me a polite, curved little smile.

“So you’re her,” he says. Not unkind. Not accusing. Just… confirming something he’s been carrying around for two years.

His voice is rough around the edges, low and tired, but there’s something gentle under it.

I nod. “And you’re Frank.”

His eyebrows lift, almost surprised.

He shoots a look at Gerard like, ‘You told her about me?’

Then they look at me like, 'You actually remember?'

“Good,” he says quietly. “That’s... good.”

Gerard squeezes my hand, and with his other hand, he reaches out, without thinking, and touches Frank’s forearm. Familiar. Way too familiar. The kind of touch that belongs to people who kept each other alive.

That tiny touch makes my stomach twist. Not painful, not angry. Just… tight.

Oh. You matter to him, too.

Frank’s eyes flick down to Gerard’s hand on him. His jaw flexes, something small and aching in his expression before he schools it away. And then he looks at me again. Longer this time, measuring the space I take up in Gerard’s world.

Oh. You mean something to him, too.

My jealousy is polite. Quiet, controlled, unspoken. For now.

It was then that I realized that Gerard wasn’t alone out there.

“...You hugged him first,” Frank says lightly. Almost teasing. Almost. But there’s something underneath it.

I raise my chin a little. “I’ve been waiting two years.”

Frank’s face shifts. Barely, but enough that I catch it. A crack of something sharp and vulnerable. He nods once, deliberate.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

The words hit strangely, landing heavier than they should.

Like there’s an entire world packed into them.

Gerard shifts in my arms, and Frank’s eyes track the movement instantly. So familiar and so automatic that it’s obvious he’s done this before.

Calmed him.

Held him.

Anchored him.

But then Frank’s shoulders snap back into something rigid, almost military, like he’s reminding himself:

Not here. Not now. Not where anyone can see.

His hands stay jammed in his pockets. His posture straightens. His jaw tightens.

Conditioning is what I’d call it. Don’t ask, Don’t Tell muscle memory. The instinct to hide affection even when it’s trying to climb out of him.

That alone hurts to watch.

Gerard’s grip on me tightens, and Frank’s breath catches like he felt something that used to belong to him slip a little out of reach.

There it is.

The jealousy. Sharp enough to cut, but polite enough to disguise.

He takes a step forward anyway, voice low but steady.

“You okay, Gee?”

I feel Gerard’s body react. It’s subtle, but unmistakable. It’s the same way his body reacts to me.

Recognition.

Stability.

Home.

He’s used to hearing that voice when everything is crashing down.

Used to leaning toward it in the dark.

I stroke Gerard’s back, and my hand stays there a moment longer than necessary.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’ve got him.”

Frank’s eyes flick to my hand, then back to Gerard.

A flicker of tension rolls through him.

He smiles, and it’s too small. Too polite.

“Sure,” he says. “Just... he gets like this sometimes. After missions. After-” he cuts himself off like the details are classified. Or like the intimacy in them is.

Gerard murmurs something against my shoulder, quiet and half-formed. Frank’s whole stance shifts toward him before he stops himself short, pulling back like he’s at attention.

The conflict tears across his face for half a second before he masks it again.

“Old habits,” Frank mutters, shrugging stiffly. “You learn to… keep things close.”

Hidden, he means.

Secret.

Untouchable.

My stomach knots.

Gerard finally lifts his head, eyes unfocused, cheeks damp. Frank steps in again, instinctively reaching out and then jerks his hand back like he’s been burned.

Literally flinches away from touching him.

Like someone might be watching.

Like two years of hiding affection has rewired him.

He clears his throat and tries again, clasping his hands behind his back like he needs to occupy them.

“We should get him home,” Frank says. “He… he doesn’t do well with crowds.”

I angle Gerard closer to me. “I can handle that.”

Frank’s jaw tightens. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I know. I just... I’ve had practice.”

The double meaning lands like gravel.

Gerard, still dazed, sways slightly toward Frank’s voice.

Toward familiarity.

Toward someone who learned how to steady him in a place where no one else could know they were touching.

I can feel the heat crawling up my neck, and I know Frank sees it.

He looks away, but not before I catch the ghost of something like victory flashing behind his eyes.

Polite rivalry, secret history and the very notion that we are two people learning in real time, that we share the same man.

And one of them still flinches at the idea of being seen caring.

Frank must see me internally battling myself because he clears his throat and shifts his weight like he's bracing for something.

“Look,” he says. Eyes flicking between Gerard and me, “I, uh… I don’t really have anywhere lined up yet. Not until the VA gets me processed.”

Gerard tenses in my arms, guilt flashing across his face like he’s the one who abandoned Frank.

I smooth my thumb over Gerard’s knuckles, grounding him. “What does that mean?” I ask.

Gerard’s fingers spasm lightly around mine, like he’s bracing himself before he speaks.

“It means…” He exhales shakily, eyes flicking between Frank and me, as if he’s afraid of choosing wrong. “It means we made a plan. Before we got here.”

My heartbeat stutters. “A plan?”

Gerard nods once. “Yeah. On the train. We-” He swallows, jaw tightening. “We didn’t know what the reception would be like. Or where everyone would end up. So we talked through options.”

We.

Not I.

Not me and you.

Gerard and Frank.

I try not to react, but something flickers in Frank’s eyes like he catches it, like he’s watching very carefully.

Gerard squeezes my hand, pulling my attention back to him. “I told him you’d want me home. With you. That you’d… take me back.”

My chest twists. “You decided that without asking me?”

He winces, not because I’m wrong, but because he knows I’m right. “I didn’t want to lose time. I’ve already lost two years.” His voice cracks, just barely. “I couldn’t risk waiting to ask.”

That lands like a blow. Painful and tender. Desperate, even.

“And Frank?” I ask quietly. “Where does he fit into this plan you two made?”

Gerard’s eyes drop for a moment, shame, not secrecy, before he lifts them again.

“He stays close,” Gerard says. Firm. Steady. Like this part is non-negotiable. “He’s been with me every day for two years. I can’t just-” His voice falters, but he forces it back into shape. “I can’t just not know where he is.”

Frank doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t have to.

“He’s staying with us,” he says quietly. “Until the VA clears him. Until he’s… until we’re okay to be on our own.”

The words land like they were already decided. Like they were spoken somewhere between war-torn train cars, whispered over rations or in the dark, trust built in the places no one else could see.

My breath hitches and, not because I want to argue, but because I can see how much it costs Gerard to say it out loud.

To ask for this.

To ask for him.

Frank stands a half-step back, shoulders stiff, gaze lowered but not passive. Waiting. Prepared to be told no. Prepared to disappear if I say the word.

Gerard tightens his grip on my hand.

“I need you both to be safe,” he murmurs. “That’s all this is. Safety.”

Maybe it is.

Maybe it’s more.

Maybe none of us is ready to name it yet.

I nod slowly. “Alright.”

Gerard’s eyes shine with relief. Frank’s flicker up for just a second, surprise, gratitude, something gentler buried under exhaustion, before he looks away again like he doesn’t want to take up space he hasn’t earned.

And just like that, the three of us start toward the station exit.

Gerard is walking between us.

Frank is hovering close enough to catch him if he stumbles.

Me holding on to the hand that made it home.

The mention of the previous night makes you feel a little warmer underneath the collar of the t-shirt you're wearing. Gerard has never actually made a reference to the two of you hooking up. It's something that just keeps happening. If it weren't for the hickeys that that he leaves on your collarbone, you'd almost be convinced that you were imagining your sexual interactions with Gerard. Sleeping with him hasn't really impacted your friendship which is why you're content with leaving things ambiguous. You're both too preoccupied with different things -- you with school and him with the band -- to pursue a relationship. And even without those distractions, there's one thing that would probably stop you from being in a committed relationship with Gerard.

That thing happens to be Frank, who's currently swearing up a storm because he missed a step on his way down the basement and nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn.

Yeah, you're fucking both of your best friends. Not at the same time! And while you haven't come right out and disclosed to Gerard that you're also hooking up with Frank and vice versa, you also haven't hidden it either. You know that Frank has seen the imprints of Gerard's teeth on your skin. You know that Gerard has seen bruises in the shape of Frank's fingers on your hips. And you convince yourself that they've talked about you before, even if you've never talked about it with them. They're close friends, they're in the same band, and they spend a ton of time together. It must have come up at some point in the year that you've been messing around with Gerard and the nine months you've been doing the same thing with Frank. Telling yourself that they've definitely talked about it before makes you feel a bit better for not disclosing it to them.

You walk up to Frank and snatch a couple pieces of popcorn. Just like Gerard expected, it's pretty heavy on the butter.

"Have you picked a movie yet?" Frank asks Gerard.

Gerard nods, turning around to show the DVD case for Spider-Man.

"I know we saw this, like, a dozen times in the theaters this summer, but I just got it on DVD a few weeks ago. I think we should watch it again."

"Fine with me," you say, and Frank nods in agreement. "It'll be better to put on something that we've seen before. I made a blanket fort so fucking comfy that all of us are going to be asleep before Uncle Ben dies."

Frank chose the biggest bowl in the Way's kitchen to hold the popcorn and you have to spread your legs decently wide to accommodate it between your blanket-covered thighs.

Frank snorts, taking a seat on the floor with his back against the couch. He pats the spot to his right, motioning for you to sit next to him. After putting the disc in the DVD player and turning off the lights, Gerard takes a seat on the other side of you.

"You're in the middle, so you're responsible for holding the popcorn bowl," Frank says, giving it to you.

Ah, in the middle of Frank and Gerard. Definitely something you've thought about once or twice before.

Gerard starts the movie and the three of you watch it in peaceful silence. You really did build the comfiest blanket fort ever. The warmth surrounding you, combined with the fact that you're not stressing about school for the first time in months because it's winter break, has your eyelids feeling heavy.

Until Frank's hand on your upper thigh underneath the blanket ruins that tranquility. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. You can see his grin from the glow of the television screen and he lifts a finger from his free hand to his lips: a signal to be quiet.

You draw in a breath as his hand moves up higher. He wastes no time slipping it into the waistband of your sweatpants. You distract yourself with a mouthful of popcorn as he teases you through your underwear for a moment, then moves the fabric to the side to rub your clit directly.

Your eyes flutter shut as you do your best not to squirm from the pleasure. Your right leg is pressed against Gerard's left. He would feel if you started to move too much.

"Wonder what she's dreaming about."

Gerard glances over at you, then leans forward so he can speak to Frank over you.

"She really did fall asleep before Uncle Ben dies, huh," Gerard says quietly, not wanting to disturb you.

"Mhm," Frank hums, keeping his eyes on the movie. Underneath the blanket, his fingers apply more pressure to your clit, tearing a squeak from your throat.

"Dunno." You can feel Frank's shoulder lift up against yours in a shrugging motion as he answers Gerard.

You decide that pretending to be asleep isn't the worst idea in the world. Frank, however, is determined to make executing it as difficult as possible. When his hand ventures a little lower and a fingertip of a single digit pushes inside you, your eyes open wide again.

"Y-yeah," you stutter.

"You're awake," Gerard murmurs to your right. Directly in front of you, Peter Parker is having Thanksgiving with his aunt, Mary Jane, Harry, and Norman on the screen. And Frank is stifling a snicker to your left as he eases his finger in deeper.

A few minutes pass. Frank's finger stills inside of you, just keeping it there. You can almost pretend it isn't there with enough mental focus.

That all comes crashing down in an instant when you feel Gerard's hand creeping up your right thigh.

Your whole body tenses. Nononono, this cannot be happening.

"It's okay," Gerard whispers into your ear. "Just stay still, stay quiet, and Frank won't know a thing."

"Took you long enough," Frank says, finally starting to move his finger.

His thumb rubs soothing circles against your thigh. You start to hold your breath as his hand dips beneath your waistband. His hand brushes against Frank's and your world freezes. You close your eyes again as if doing so would make you disappear amid the blankets and pillows surrounding you.

"...You beat me to it," Gerard says, sounding disappointed. His fingertips graze your clit.

"I thought she was actually sleeping!"

"She wouldn't mind if you touched her even if she was sleeping." Frank curls his finger inside you, making you let out a quiet moan. "Isn't that right, princess?"

You whine in response.

You squirm from the sensation of Frank fingering you and Gerard toying with your clit. Your head spins at the absurdity of the situation you're in -- how your two close friends are having such a casual conversation while they touch you.

"Damn, you've done stuff like that with her before?" Gerard asks, impressed. He presses more firmly against your clit, rubbing it in circles. "We need to try that soon," he adds to you.

"How long have you been touching her?" Gerard asks.

"Since the wrestling match scene."

"Shit, you've been at it for a while. And she hasn't come?"

Frank shakes his head. "Nah, not yet. She was trying her best not to so she wouldn't make too much noise. You know how she is when she comes. So fuckin' loud. Assuming you've been able to make her come?" He teases.

"Of course I have," he says defensively. "Made her come like four times last night."

Gerard rolls his eyes.

"That's what you both were busy with last night? That's why we couldn't hang out?" You can hear the way that Frank is pouting through his tone.

"G-guys," you say, interrupting their banter. "Gonna come."

"Has it just been us or have you been whoring yourself out to anyone else?" Gerard asks.

"Yeah?" Frank asks. "Do you deserve to? You've been a pretty nasty girl, sleeping with both of us." He adds a second finger.

"J-just you guys," you whimper, squeezing around Frank's finger.

"What do you think, Gee? Has she earned it?"

"Yeah," he says after a second. "She has."

You look over at Gerard, silently begging him to give Frank an affirmative answer.

You moan loudly, body shuddering as you finally come after being on edge for almost the entire duration of the movie.

Frank leans in close to you.

"You heard him. Come."

"Wanna taste her," Gerard says, grabbing Frank's hand and yanking it out of your sweatpants. He guides Frank's fingers up to his face and sucks them into his mouth. Frank seems unfazed by the action.

"I'm getting the impression that you've done this before," you say slowly, eyes glued to the obscene sight in front of you.

"You're not the only one who's been whoring around, sweetheart."