#mcreturn

As the band gets settled you rush down the stage’s side exit and sneak down the stairs to the floor.  It’s packed with teens clad in MCR shirts, black makeup, and heavily bleached hair.  You manage to wiggle your way between bodies until you’re right up close to the stage.  It’s not something you do every night, but being the guys’ favorite unofficial assistant has certain perks.  

It’s dark and the people around you are already thrashing around by the time the stage lights go up and Frank starts to play the intro to the first song.  Everyone screams when Gerard blows a kiss to the crowd, it’s so loud you can barely tell what he’s singing, so you just scream along with what you think are the right words.  You seem to move in unison with the fans around you, as you jump to the beat and relish in the hot, disorganized, mess of it all.

The song ends and Gerard starts talking about whatever nonsense is on his mind tonight.  Everything slows down and you notice a man a few feet away who catches your eye when he look over.  He has long blonde hair that gives him a sort of cool, California vibe and a lip piercing you can’t help but feel intrigued by.  When he smiles, you smile, and soon he’s made his way over to you.  By the time the next song picks up you’re dancing together at the edge of the stage.  “I’m Y/N!” you shout over all the noise.

He nods, strands of light hair falling into his eyes, “Ethan!”  Or at least you think he says Ethan, it could’ve easily been Allen or even Stephen, you’re not too concerned about it anyway.

You move closer to maybe-Ethan, putting your hands on his chest, and he hesitantly places his hands on your hips.  The two of you keep dancing like this, moving against each other, and every once in awhile you look up at the band.  Frank is near your end of the stage now, his hair damp and glued to this forehead in a way that shouldn’t be this hot, but it is.  You turn around to face the stage, so Ethan’s behind you, and that’s when Frank notices.  His eyes widen at the sight of you grinding against the other man, but his fingers keep moving and he doesn’t miss a note.  

The rest of the night continues like this — you keep Ethan close by, he doesn’t seem to mind, and every once in a while you catch Frank glancing over.  By the time they’re nearing the end of the set Frank is staring at the two of you with pure anger.  His face is hard and you can tell he’s not as enthusiastic as usual; he hasn’t tried to hump Gerard’s leg even once and the show’s almost over.  

The last song ends, everyone is screaming, Ethan says something about both of you getting out of here, but you shout an intelligible excuse back as you make a beeline for the side of the stage.  You flash your badge at security and they let you through to where the guys are filing off stage.  You spot Frank, hair falling limp in his eyes as he hands an assistant his guitar, moving quickly to the dressing rooms.  You shout his name, but he doesn’t even turn around, so you run to catch up to him.  Before he can open the door you reach forward and grab his heavily tattooed arm.  He whips around, still panting and sweating from all the adrenaline of performing, “What the hell was that?”

You flinch at the quiet, simmering rage behind the question, “Was what?” You can’t help but smirk, he knows you’re playing dumb.

He clenches one hand into a fist, “The Nirvana-wannabe you were practically fucking in the front row.”

“His name is Ethan and we were just dancing, Frankie.”

You both move to the side as the other guys push past into the dressing room.  You pull Gerard into a hug while congratulating him and a great finale, and you swear Frank almost pops a blood vessel.

When you and Frank are alone again in the dim hallway you continue with a lower voice, “You don’t see me complaining about the girls you take backstage every other show.”

He snaps, “It was twice, once in Milwaukee and once in Salt Lake.  Way before any of this.”

That last phrase ignites something white hot inside of you, “And what is this, exactly?”

“You know what I mean, don’t be stupid.”

You start to argue, you’re on a roll here, when he grabs your arm and drags you into the other, smaller dressing room that’s empty.  The door slams shut and he shoves you back against it.  You cry out and he immediately places a hand over your mouth.  You know you’ll have a bruise where your back hit the door, but you don’t care.  The anger radiating off of him only makes this more fun.

“I mean,” he takes a tense deep breath, “that you’re mine, and only mine.”

You make a strangled noise and he moves his hand, still keeping you pinned to the door with his body.  You give a coy nod and he looks relieved, but then a smile breaks across your face as you get an idea, “Well, what if I wanted to go home with Ethan? He did offer and when were dancing I could feel-”

Frank cuts you off, “I don’t care what you want,” his voice is hoarse right next to your ear, “You’re going to do what I tell you, and if you don’t want to, well, that’s even better.”

The lump in your throat prevents you from speaking, so you just nod again as he runs his hand through your hair.  He leans forward and shoves his tongue into your mouth, making you moan loudly.  He pulls away, “But I think you do.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and he picks you up to then place you with rough impatience on the couch.  He pulls his t-shirt off over his head and you follow suit with your own.  His hands are quick and practiced as he unbuttons and discards your cut-off shorts to reveal black lace.  Something glistens in his dark eyes as he runs his runs his fingers down between your legs.  “Already so wet for me,” he shakes his head, as if to scold you.  He starts rubbing slow circles around your clit through your panties and you can feel your face start to heat up.  You’ve done this before, but this time something’s different; it’s more intense, whether that’s due to jealousy or anger, you’re not sure.

Frank sits back and the couch and pulls you onto his lap.  His lips find yours and travel down your next until he’s taking off your bra to lick and suck each nipple.  When he comes up he makes sure to lock eyes with you, “Get on the floor, on your knees.”

You want to ask questions, but instead you follow the order silently.  He grabs and fistful of your hair and forces your head up towards him.  “Now suck me until I tell you to stop.”

As you unzip his tight black jeans to reveal one of the biggest dicks you’ve ever seen you can feel your own wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs.  You start by taking his cock into your mouth and moving up and down at an agonizing, slow pace.  Once you start to move faster, flicking your tongue over the head on each upstroke, Frank moans quietly and his whole body tenses.  “Such a good slut,” he says breathlessly.

He’s never called you anything like that before, but you’re not exactly surprised, and it only works to turn you on even more.  After another minute or so he pulls your head up and tells you to take your panties off.  He stands up as you do and places his calloused hands on your hips to bend you over the arm of the couch.  He shoves two fingers all the way into you and starts thrusting them in and out.  He then bends over to mutter softly, “I’m going to fuck you hard enough to make you scream like the whore you are.  Everyone in this whole fucking arena is going to know who you belong to.  Okay?”

You know what you want to say, and maybe what he expects you to say, “Yes, daddy.”

He removes his fingers and your heart drops, but then he says, “Fuck, baby, you’re in so much trouble.”

Frank’s cock feels like it won’t even fit properly when he starts to thrust it into you, but he’s so rough that it goes in with only a short, sharp burst of pain.  You cry out and he spanks you, only eliciting more noise from you.  The feeling of his cock stretching you from the inside, sliding in and out, in and out, is pure bliss.  You moan, unable to stop yourself, and everything inside of you clench tighter with each of his thrusts.  

He spanks you again, harder this time, and again.  You shout his name.  “Good girl,” he cooes and slows his movements, “Daddy’s going to fill you with more cum than this tight little pussy can hold.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Frank, I mean-” he slaps your ass again, “Daddy, yes daddy.”

“That’s right, bitch.” His thrusts become frantic and even deeper, if that’s possible.  You come around his dick, your walls constricting so much that he’s almost forced out of you, and he moans loudly.  He finishes immediately; his cock pulse inside you and you can feel the warmth of his cum filling you.  

He pulls out of you and spins you around to face him.  There’s cum dripping down your leg and everything between your legs is sore and raw.  “Tell me who you belong to,” he says and pulls you against him.