#sub gerard

The late afternoon sun bled beautiful hues of golden yellow and orange across the sky.

You hammered the final stake into the dirt, the tent now being safe from blowing away. The air was crisp, sharp even- it smelt of heavy pine needles, dirt, and little wood chips across the campsite.

Mikey was stuck at home, he was working on his finals, leaving you and Gerard. You were both around halfway through gap year- leaving you and him free for anything. This left you guys at the mercy of your mothers fantastic reunion.

You and Gerard were once inseparable, but the years pulled you both into separate orbits, separate friends, different places, and a strained relationship.

Although your relationship had changed, the distance felt fragile. You were both there like old times, being brought back together- and forced to be together.

Because Mikey wasn’t there, you and Gerard had to share a tent.

 Normally there would be three separate tents.

One for the moms,

One for you,

And one for Gerard and Mikey.

But of course your mom decided that you ‘don't deserve privacy.

The first thing you did when the tent was finished being set up, you shot in there- claiming your side of the tent. Then you basically ripped off your roadtrip clothes- slipping into your one piece swimsuit you still had from sophomore year.

It was tighter now, hugging the curves that weren’t there when you were in highschool. 

You stepped out into the melting daylight, your towel slung over your shoulder. Gerard’s looked up at you from the stump he was hunched on. He was frozen, his eyes swept over your figure, then rapidly back up to your face. A fierce crimson coated his neck and lower cheeks, as his Adam’s apple bobbed uncomfortably.

“C-can I come?” He asked, his voice cracking unnoticeably. 

“Obviously dork.” You replied, a teasing undertone.

The trek down to the water was quiet. The path  barely being illuminated by the now orangish red sky. You paused when the lake was in view. The scene was cinematic- the sky glinted and glittered against the murky water. The color looked less olive in the dusk. 

Jesus Christ you could have stood there for hours, counting each individual color that the water glimmered at you.

That’s when Gerard looked at you with a devilish grin, you immediately knew what he was thinking. 

In a split second, you and Gerard were rocketing down the trail, your bare feet sticking to the wood chips. When you both made it to the dock, you continued- quickly interlocking your arms and pulling your knees to chest. You both launched off the end of the dock in cannon balls. A giant wave splashing the end of the dock.

When you both came up for air, you continued to choke on your own laughter. 

…

An hour later, you were shivering and laughing over the crackling campfire. Your hair had dried- now all crispy- your towel was hanging loosely off your shoulders. 

You silently excused yourself to change into your dry clothes. Your mom was pretty tipsy, in deep gossip with Gerard’s mom. They paid no attention to you when you slipped into the dark tent. 

Your damp swimsuit was stubborn- clinging onto your skin. You had just managed to peel it off of your body, and slip clumsily into a clean pair of panties- when you heard the tent zipper rip open at a violent speed.

“I’m changing!” You shouted, your voice echoing in the confined space.

It was too late.

Gerard’s head poked through the flap.

The color drained from his face, before rushing back in a violent shade of purple. His eyes didn’t just land on you, they locked. Tracking every bare expanse of your skin. His eyes traced the curve of your hip, and the absolute lack of coverage. 

For a fraction of a second, he didn’t move. Then, all at once it did. He ripped his gaze from you, his jaw dropping as he fell back onto the grass outside the tent. The soft sound of punk rock flooding from his dropped headphones.

“Oh my god- I- I’m so soo sorry!-!” His voice was strained.

Furious, and embarrassed, you threw on your hoodie, and a soft pair of sweatpants and a rapid speed. You unzipped the flap once again, and stood over him, arms crossed.

“Did you seriously not hear me yell that I was changing?” You yelled, your eyes trained on his flustered face.

Gerard was flat on his back, his knees bent, and hands splayed on either of his sides. His eyes were wide and terrified(?). 

“I-I didn’t hear you, I swear- m- my volume was up!” His hand reached toward his headphones. “ I’m sorry- I - I swear it was n'accident!” His hands reached up, palms facing you in surrender.

…

The warmth of the campfire couldn't thaw the freezing awkwardness that settled over the rest of the evening. 

You moved your camp chair to the absolute opposite side of the pit, creating a deliberate barrier of smoke and snapping embers between yourself and Gerard. 

You refused to look at him directly, keeping your focus on the glowing coals, only tracking him through the very edge of your peripheral vision.

He wasn't handling it any better. 

Every time you accidentally shifted your gaze too far to the left, his eyes would instantly dart away. His face would flush a bright, unmistakable pink, and his right boot would start tapping a frantic rhythm against the dirt.

The shift in energy was loud enough to wake the dead. 

Your mom paused mid-sentence, looking between the two of you with a raised eyebrow, while Gerard's mom set her beer down.

"What are you two dorks worked up about?" she asked, inspecting Gerard's burning ears. 

"Did you guys seriously get into a fight already?"

“I’m jus’ tired…” you stated simply, now standing. leaning down, you gave both the moms a quick hug and a peck on the cheek as a goodnight.

 You didn't look at Gerard as you walked past him, heading straight for the shared tent to escape from drowning in the tension.

Sleep hit you like a brick. Bundled tightly inside your sleeping bag, curled on your side, as the exhaustion of the day took over. The tent was silent except for the rhythmic, faint whistle of your nose as you drifted into a deep slumber.

-

It was hours later when the zipper moved.

Gerard entered with agonizing slowness, trying to be a ghost, but the shifting of the tent floor woke you instantly.

The fire outside had died down into gray ash. And the only light source was the faint, pulsating neon green of fireflies blinking right outside the thin nylon mesh, casting rapid shadows across the small space.

Your eyes peeled open, heavy with sleep. You didn't move a muscle, watching through the gloom as Gerard sat on his sleeping bag and began untying his heavy leather boots. 

He dropped them with a soft thud. 

Then, his hands went to his waist.

 He unbuckled his jeans, the metallic clink sounding like a gunshot in the quiet night, and pushed them down around his ankles.

Your breath hitched. Your chest locked up, your breathing turning high-pitched and shallow as your eyes involuntarily dropped lower. 

Against the faint exterior light, the distinct, prominent silhouette of his cock was visible through his boxers.

Before you could look away, Gerard froze, and he turned his head.

In the dark, he couldn't see your face, but he could see the unmistakable, glossy glimmer of your wide-open eyes staring directly at his lap.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Gerard stood entirely still for three agonizing seconds, the outline of his arousal plain as day between you. 

Suddenly, he snapped out of it. He spun around, his back to you, and frantically snatched up his pajama pants, shoving his legs through them with clumsy haste.

He scrambled into his sleeping bag, pulling the zipper all the way up to his chin in one ragged motion.

"Goodnight," he whispered. 

His voice wasn't the stuttering pitch from earlier; it was a quiet, low, gravelly grumble that vibrated in the small tent.

You didn't answer. 

You couldn't.

 You lay perfectly still in the dark, your heart hammering against your ribs, entirely consumed by the terrifying, dizzying realization of just how turned on you were by the boy who was supposed to be your brother.

Fuck.

…

The next morning was bright and clear. The morning dew glittering off of the blades of grass.

By ten o'clock, you were sitting with the moms, drinking coffee by the crackling remains of the morning fire, feeling surprisingly chipper. 

The heavy, localized storm of tension from the night before seemed to have evaporated into the fresh spring air, leaving you talkative as you animatedly recounted a bizarre, vivid dream you'd had to an amused audience.

Gerard, true to form, didn't make an appearance until closer to lunchtime. He was a creature of the dark, always sleeping in late enough to miss the early morning chill. 

When the tent flap finally rustled, he essentially crawled out into the bright daylight, blinking like a dazed nocturnal animal as he made his way toward the main camp area.

Stopping a few feet away, he rubbed the heavy sleep from his eyes, his gaze locking instantly onto yours. 

His dark hair was a completely disheveled, chaotic bird's nest. He hadn't bothered to change; his soft flannel pajama pants hung low and loose on his hips, exposing the pale skin of his waist. A brief, charged look passed between you- a silent acknowledgment of the dark shadows from the night before-before he pulled his eyes away.

After that, the day blurred into a fast, uneven rhythm. 

You spent most of your time helping the adults with camp chores and firewood collection, while Gerard vanished entirely. 

The moms figured they had sent him out deep into the brush to find solid, thick fire starters, but as the hours ticked by without a sign of him, no one thought much of it. 

He was a wanderer.

 You had a nagging, unprompted feeling that he might have even been sneaking back into the shared tent, quietly digging through your things while the camp was empty, but you couldn't prove it.

By late afternoon, the moms dropped a bombshell. They decided the lakeside spot was too much trouble to maintain and declared that everyone would be packing up and relocating further inland by dawn tomorrow.

You were crushed. You loved being set up directly next to the water and immediately protested, trying to argue for the peace of the lake. But it was a losing battle against the real adults.

 Defeated, you decided you weren't going to let your remaining time go to waste. If tomorrow was your last day by the water, you were going to make the most of tonight.

At 10:00 PM, the camp was dead silent. Knowing your mom would absolutely forbid swimming alone in the pitch black, you waited until her steady, deep breathing signaled she was fast asleep before slipping out of the tent in your swimsuit.

The lake was an inkwell, cold and completely still. You swam out for quite a while, the chill of the water shocking your skin until your body went comfortably numb.

 Eventually, you stopped paddling, letting yourself simply float on the upper layer of the water, staring up at the blanket of stars.

The absolute silence broke when a tiny, fiery orange ember caught your eye. It was floating in the dark, hovering right above the end of the wooden dock.

You blinked the water from your eyes, treading softly. Gerard was standing at the edge of the platform, looking straight down at you through the gloom. A rolled joint was clamped between his fingers, the tip glowing angrily in the dark as he took a slow drag and blew out lazy, swirling halos of sweet smoke.

“Hey—where have you been all day?” you asked, your voice cutting lightheartedly through the quiet night air.

“Nowhere,” he said simply. His voice was casual, but there was a distinct, low drag to it.

It was completely dark out now. Without the fire, you could only see the sharp, faint outline of his frame standing tall above you against the night sky. You didn't even realize how hard your neck was craned backward until he spoke again, his eyes tracking your movements as you drifted closer to the edge of the dock, just staring up at him.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked softly.

He exhaled another thick cloud of smoke through his nostrils. The fragrance drifted downward, blending into the damp night air. Inhaling the faint, earthy scent made you feel a wave of overlaying euphoria, your head spinning just a little.

Underneath the water, your body felt electric. You were intensely glad that this trip hadn't landed on your period, but the alternative was proving to be a dangerous game: you were stuck here ovulating. And god, with the way the cool water swept over your bare skin, the primal, aching awareness of it was only becoming more and more noticeable.

Gerard lazily moved to the edge of the platform and sat down. He unlaced his heavy boots, pulling them off before dangling his bare feet over the side, letting them plunge into the water right near your shoulders.

“Did you watch me change last night?”

The question sliced through the quiet air like a razor blade.

“Wha—No!” you shouted, your voice jumping an octave, betraying your panic. You splashed slightly to keep yourself upright, your face burning despite the cold water. “I should be asking you! What exactly did you see when I was changing yesterday?” you added, throwing the defensive shield back up.

The silence stretched out, thick and heavy, as the two of you just gazed at each other. He was clearly high, his dark eyes half-lidded and distant, his posture slumped into a lazy, unbothered curve. The anger of your question seemed to wash right over him.

“You are seriously gorgeous, Y/N,” he whispered. His voice sounded soft, almost bubbly with a private, hazy adoration.

You froze, the water lapping against your chin as you just kept staring at him.

He was so fucking hot.

The sharp, perfect slope of his nose caught the amber light of the joint every time he took a breath. His eyelashes were long, dark, and wispy, casting heavy curtains over his beautiful eyes. And his lips—his soft lips were the perfect, bruised shade of pink in the dark, parting slightly to reveal the little snaggle teeth that poked through as he offered a slow, wicked smile. God, fuck.

“What?” he grinned, tilting his head. A few strands of disheveled dark hair fell into his face, an effortlessly flirtatious gesture that made your chest tighten.

“Nothing,” you bit your lower lip, dipping slightly lower into the safety of the water.

His pupils were blown completely wide, swallowing the irises whole as he stared down at you. Another long, torturous pause hung over the lake.

“Does—does this—” Gerard paused, lifting a hand to point his index finger back and forth in a small circle between the two of you. “Does this… us… feel different to you?” he softly questioned, the haze dropping for a fraction of a second to reveal a raw, vulnerable curiosity.

“Yes,” you admitted halfheartedly, the truth slipping out before you could stop it. You swam an inch closer, resting your forearms against the wet, splintered wood of the dock near his ankles. “What happens? What will we do?” you asked helplessly, looking up into his face.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, quiet murmur. He ripped his eyes away from yours, looking down at the dark ripples where the lake surrounded his ankles. “We really shouldn’t act on it…”

The night went entirely quiet after that, the finality of his words sinking into the dark water around you.

The next morning was a blur of aggressive packing. The moms were in high gear, barking orders about bungee cords and heavy coolers.

You kept your head down, methodically folding blankets inside the tent while Gerard pulled the metal stakes from the dirt outside.

That was when you noticed it.

Your duffel bag, which you had distinctly remembered zipping completely shut before heading to the lake last night, was sitting open. 

The fabric was pulled back, and right on top- resting against your sweaters was a pair of your lace underwear. It had been buried at the very bottom of the bag. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t need to guess who did it. A cold wave of shock washed over you, followed immediately by a heavy, confusing heat that pooled low in your stomach. 

Instead of running out of the tent and screaming, a strange, suffocating silence took over. You slowly zipped the bag shut, your heart pumping thick against your ribs. 

You chose to stay quiet. 

You didn’t say a word as you carried the bag outside, but the secret burned a hole in your chest.

The breaking point arrived an hour later.

To speed up the relocation, the moms sent the two of you ahead in Gerard’s beat-up truck to haul the first massive load of gear to the new inland campsite.

 The cab of the truck was a claustrophobic cage. The air was thick with the scent of old pine tree air fresheners, damp earth, and an unbearable, unsaid tension.

Gerard drove with both hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the winding, deserted dirt road. But he wasn't looking at the road. Every couple of seconds, his gaze would drop, helplessly tracking the bare skin of your legs where your shorts rode up your thighs.

He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. His breathing was shallow, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle began to spasm in his cheek.

It was exhausting. The blushing, the god- awful stuttering, the invasion of your privacy, and now? this pathetic, lingering staring. 

You snapped.

You reached out, violently slamming your hand against the radio dial, cutting off the rigid punk rock music into dead silence.

"Pull over," you demanded. Your voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough to slice through the air.

Gerard flinched, his eyes darting to yours in pure panic. "W-what? We're supposed to get to the—"

"Pull the truck over, Gerard. Right now."

Scared by the venom in your tone, he yanked the wheel to the right. The truck kicked up dusty gravel as it skidded to a halt on the side of the deserted, heavily wooded road. The engine idled with a low, rumbling vibration.

"What's wrong? Are you- "

"Are you seriously going to keep pretending?" you interrupted, turning fully in your seat to face him. Your hands gripped the edge of the center console. 

"You've been acting like a complete freak since yesterday. You look at me like you're starving, you panic every time I look back, and you stand on the dock telling me we 'shouldn't act on it' like you're making some big, noble sacrifice."

Gerard's face instantly went from pale to a dark, suffocating crimson. He swallowed hard, staring at the steering wheel. "I- jus’- please, just let it go-"

"I found my bag, Gerard," you dropped the hammer, your voice lowering into a dangerous register. 

"I know you went through my stuff while I was out of the tent yesterday. You moved my underwear."

The silence that followed was absolute. 

Gerard had froze up completely, his entire body locking up as if he had just been struck by lightning. The color drained from his face entirely, leaving him looking sickly and undone.

"I-I didn't, I swear i-" he stammered, his voice cracking violently. 

He couldn't even form a coherent sentence. He looked so incredibly small in the driver's seat, his hands trembling against the steering wheel.

Instead of the normal triumph and pity, a hot wave of frustration and anger washed over you. Your chest tightened and your eyes blurred with burning tears. There was a tang of embarrassment from him digging in your personal items, but there was also a pull that you were feeling from it. You both were magnets. 

“Stop lying,” You started- trying to push the emotion down.

“Do you seriously think your the only one losing your mind over this? You drive me insane, Gerard. The way you look at me- I can’t- we aren’t supposed to feel this way, We are basically family!” Your voice was loud, and high pitched.

Gerard turned his head toward you. His dark eyes glossed over, and pupils blown. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

He opened his mouth to say something different, but before any noise came out, your lips slammed into his. Your eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as you began to move your mouth against his. He let out a choked whimper at the sudden contact.

His hands found your shoulders, and gently pushed you back into your seat. You stared at his eyes, then the way his hair was shoveled to the side, and stuck to his forehead from the heat.

His eyes stayed on your lips, plump and wet from the feverish kiss.

Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt- and you slid over the center console, straddling Gerard’s thick thighs. 

Gerard lightly gasped, his eyes tracking the way your pelvis ground into his. His hands flew up, pausing before he let them sit carelessly on your sides. 

“A- all I wa- wanted was- i-“ Gerard stuttered.

You cut him off. “All you wanted was what?” Your voice was condescending. 

“Show me…” your voice changed dramatically, becoming more velvety and sultry. You pushed your hips down against his again, another whimper escaping his lips. Your head moved closer to his again, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, while your hands trailed up his body, landing in his hair.

You tugged at the soft strands: “show me, Gerard.”

With that, his hips bucked up into yours- his hands sliding down to your hips to put more pressure on his groin. He grunted uselessly, his eyes screwing shut as he began to use you. 

Your fingers were still tangling in his hair, and your lips found his neck, nipping at his pulse point- and leaving dark purple circles all over.

He continued to grind into your clothed core- little grunts and whimpers kept leaving his mouth.

The grinding slowed, your hips rolling against his with deliberate pressure, drawing it out until Gerard's hands clawed at your hips, trying to push you faster, harder.

"Nuh-uh," you murmured against his throat, your teeth grazing his pulse point. "I said show me, baby."

A frustrated sound caught in his chest. His eyes were screwed shut, his jaw tight, his cock straining against his jeans so hard it had to be painful. He thrust up again, desperate, but you lifted your hips just enough to deny him the friction he was chasing.

His head fell back against the headrest with a thud. "Please," he breathed, the word broken. 

"Please, y/n." He said your name with devastation.

"Show me how much you want it."

His hands shook as they fumbled with his belt. The metal clinked and clattered, his movements frantic and clumsy, and you had to bite back a smile as you watched. He got his jeans undone, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers, his cock springing free, hard and slick at the tip- hitting his abdomen with an obscene slap.

You didn't move to touch him. You just sat there, watching, your hips hovering just above his.

"Fuck," he rasped, his hand wrapping around himself, pumping once, twice. "Fuck, look at you."

Your tank top was still on, your jeans still buttoned, and the sight of you fully clothed and perched on top of him like he was your throne had him leaking against his own fingers.

You reached down, your fingers circling his wrist, stopping him. "Not yet, Gerard."

You pulled your tank top over your head, unhooked your bra, and let it fall. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on your tits, his mouth falling open. You took his hand and guided it to your chest, letting him feel the weight of you in his palm.

"Feel me, Gerard."

He didn't need to be told twice. His hands were on you, calloused and rough, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they peaked, until you were arching into his touch. His hips bucked up again, his cock sliding against the soaked seam of your jeans, and you let him- let him rut against you like a desperate school boy.

"Take these off," he begged, tugging at your waistband. "Please, baby. Please."

You held his gaze as you unbuttoned your jeans, as you lifted your hips and shimmied them down your thighs. Your panties followed, dark and soaked, and when you settled back on top of him, skin to skin, his cock pressed hot and urgent against your bare stomach.

He squirmed.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers wrapping around his length, guiding the head to your entrance. You dragged it through your slick folds, teasing both of you, watching his face twist with pleasure and desperation.

"Eyes up here," you demanded softly.

His eyes rolled up to yours. He was looking up at you, his face tilted down slightly so he was looking at you through his eyelashes.

You sank down.

The sound he made- a strangled, broken moan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest.

It was worth everything.

His hands flew back down to your hips, his grip bruising as you took him inch by inch, your walls stretching around him, your breath hitching at the fullness.

When you were seated completely, you paused, feeling each and every inch of his length.

"Fuck," he breathed out, his head lolling back. 

"Fuck, no- no i- I can’t y/n"

"Shh." You leaned forward, your lips brushing his. 

"I know, baby. I know, I've got you."

You started to move.

Slow at first, a heavy roll of your hips that had his nails digging into your skin, and his mouth falling open in a silent cry. You set the pace, rising and falling, taking him deep and pulling back until just the tip remained, then sinking down again.

The car windows fogged. His hands roamed your body- your tits, your waist, your ass- he was gripping and releasing like he couldn't decide where to settle.

"H-harder," he gasped. "Plea- please go harder-"

You planted your hands on his chest, your nails raking down his skin as you rode him, fast and deep, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the enclosed space. His hips bucked up to meet yours, meeting you thrust for thrust, his control completely shattered.

"Yes," you sighed, feeling him twitch inside you. "That's it."

His hand found your clit, his thumb pressing tight speedy circles, as you cried out, your rhythm faltering as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your tummy.

"Come on," he urged, his voice rough, wrecked. "Cum for me, sweetheart. I'm right there- I feel you,"

Your orgasm hit you, wave after wave pulling you under. Your walls squeezed around him, pulsing, and Gerard followed with a broken cry, his release flooding you, his body shuddering beneath yours as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

You collapsed against his chest, your forehead resting in the crook of his neck, both of you breathing hard. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his lips pressing soft, lazy kisses to your hair.

Neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breaths and the faint hum of the forest surrounding the both of you.

…

When the truck finally pulled into the clearing of the campsite, you were surprised to see that most of the work was already done. The fire pit was prepped, and the two tents were already pitched beneath the pine trees.

Your mothers were sitting on a fallen log near the edge of the site, sharing a thermos and looking relaxed.

"There you are!" your mom called out, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. 

"We thought maybe the old truck had finally given up the ghost on those mountain passes."

"It... it had a bit of trouble," Gerard stammered, climbing out of the cab, and heading to the back to unload the remaining crates. 

"We had to pull over for a while."

Gerard’s mom exchanged a look with your mother, a look that was a little too knowing, a little too satisfied.

"Well, it’s a good thing we got a head start on the camp, then," she said, her tone light and airy. 

"Since it took so much longer than expected, we decided to simplify things. We’re heading into the village to grab some real food for dinner. We'll be back late."

A strange feeling prickled at the back of your neck. You watched them walk toward the other car, waving over their shoulders. 

As soon as their taillights disappeared down the dirt road, you turned toward the main tent to drop off your duffel bag.

Stepping inside, you realized why they had been so eager to "simplify?"

The tent was much smaller than the one you’d used previously. Inside, the two individual sleeping bags hadn't just been laid out- they had been zipped together into one large, shared bed. Resting on the center of the pillows was a small envelope.

Gerard stepped in behind you, pausing as he saw the layout. "Wait, did they...?" He said, trailing off..

You opened the envelope. Inside was a note in familiar, loopy handwriting.

———

The forest is much quieter at night than the lake. We figured you two might appreciate a little extra warmth. See you in the morning. P.S. We left some 'supplies' in the side pocket.

——— You looked at Gerard, and then at the side pocket of the tent, which held a travel-sized bottle of massage oil and a small box of chocolates.

"I think," you whispered, a laugh finally bubbling up in your chest, "that our moms have been planning this camping trip for a very different reason than hiking."

Gerard looked at the note, then at the shared bed, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. The embarrassment faded, replaced by relief that the ‘secret’ was out.

"Well…" he said, stepping closer and taking your hand. 

"It seems like they finally got tired of waiting for us to figure it out ourselves."

I dated Gerard Way once. Briefly.

We were both fifteen years old. For, like, a month. Or maybe two…

It was a dare, really.

He had a crush on me. It was weirdly obvious and gross. I knew it. Everyone knew it.

One night at Maria’s house, filled with vodka in Gatorade bottles and those fruity cheap lip glosses that glistened like oil slicks and were popular in the 90’s, someone said:

“You should go out with him. You know, for shits and giggles.”

And I did. Because I was already leaving town. Dad got promoted and we were moving two states away and nothing was real at fifteen anyways.

I kissed him in the bathroom of someone’s sweet sixteen, in my little pleated skirt. I told him he was sweet.

He was surprisingly rebellious for a nerdy Jersey crybaby boy.

He also cried when I broke up with him.

I didn’t.

I was mean about it. I told people I broke up with him because he smelled. I told people I did it as a joke. I actually liked him too.

Donna, his mother, called mine that same evening to complain about the way I treated her son. I deserved it.

Almost ten years later, I’m back.

Back in Jersey, back in my parents’ old house, back in a body I’ve outgrown ten times.

Gerard called me. Gerard called me.

“Hey.” That was all he said. Like we’re still fifteen and I was still that girl with the tiny black dress and the razor tongue.

“I heard you were back in town.” He continued. “Do you want to come over?”

He lived in his parents basement now.

Same house. Different orbit.

His younger brother moved out for college, and Gerard was down there like vampire dwelling in the dark.

There was a mattress on the floor, no bed frame, and piles of notebooks stacked around.

He smelled like cigarettes and sweat.

But his eyes were still sweet and kind. I felt bad for him.

“You look—” I started, then stop.

Because he did. He looked fucking wrecked.

Cheekbones sharp from hunger, he lost a ridiculous amount of weight it couldn’t be healthy… Hair dirty and greasy, tubs of prescription pills and half drank liquor bottles around the floor.

“I’m working on an album,” he mumbled. “It’s… it’s stupid. I don’t know.”

He sat down on the mattress.

I walked around the room. I touched everything. I always did that when I’m uncomfortable, paw through other people’s lives like a raccoon in the middle of the night.

Some sketchbooks were open. Lyrics everywhere. Scratched out lines. Scribbled hearts. Bloodstains, maybe. Or ink. Same difference.

And then I read it. That one.

“I’m trying to let you know just how much you mean to me.”

“And I feel like there’s nothing left to do but prove myself to you.”

I snorted. “Aw. Who’s she? You got a weird little girlfriend?”

I didn’t expect him to answer, but he did.

“You,” he said. One syllable. Landed like a fucking bomb.

I froze.

He wouldn’t look at me, he was sitting there picking at a loose string on his sleeve.

“You wrote a love song about me?” I laughed, high-pitched and involuntary. “From when we were fifteen?”

He shrugged, miserable. “I never got over it I guess.”

My heart turned inside out.

It was like licking a knife and liking the taste.

“Gerard,” I whispered, softer this time.

And I wanted to say something nice. I really did. But I’m not a nice girl. I never have been.

Instead, I crawled onto his lap and pinned him down.

“You still cry when you’re touched?” I asked, mouth to his jaw, teeth grazing his pulse.

He nodded.

“Good,” I said and straddle his hips.

His hands were shaking. His lips part, barely breathing.

I pressed my palm to his chest and felt the erratic thud of his pathetic little heart.

“You gonna beg me this time?”

“Please,” he whispered.

“Louder.”

“Please.” he mumbled.

“I said louder-“

“Please…” he sobbed “My parents are upstairs… please don’t make me do this.”

“Good” I laughed “At least they’ll know their twenty five year old son is not a pathetic virgin.”

I grabbed his wrists, pinned them over his head. I kissed him. Too much teeth.

“Bet you touched yourself thinking about me,” I whispered into his mouth.

He moaned. I felt his moan in my cunt.

“You did, didn’t you?” I laughed. “You still disgust me.”

He nodded. Again. Again.

I grinder down onto his cock, still clothed, watching him twitch underneath me.

He liked to be tortured like this. We never actually fucked when we were teenagers. I’d just tease him like this. Fully clothed, until he came in his pants and blushed about it.

“You want to cry for me, baby?” I asked, hands trailed down to undo his jeans.

“Yes.”

I pulled his dick out. Spat on my hand. Stroke him once, twice… slow and cruel. I made him get rid of my own jeans and panties, letting him touch the wetness around my sex. It was the first time he touched me.

And then I fucked him. He whimpered the entire time. Tears down his soft pale cheeks. I rode him harder. I had to admit I was scared of hurting him at first.

“You wrote a fucking love song about me,” I growled, tightening my grip around his throat. “That’s the saddest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“I loved you,” he gasps, breaking. Past tense… ouch.

“I know,” I said, hitting my hips harder against his.

I did it until he sobbed, until he begged.

Until he came with my name in his mouth like a rosary.

I didn’t even come. I enjoyed his tears and begs. I enjoyed fulfilling his little fantasy of who he thought I was.

I roll off of him. I was sweaty, smudged and proud.

He curled into me like a dog with nowhere to go. His face was wet, hair dripping in sweat and oil. His eyes were still glassy. His chest was shaking. Poor thing.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said, as if I didn’t know that already.

“Of course you didn’t,” I smiled. I didn’t mean it in the wrong way, I felt for him.

I stared at the ceiling and for a minute… just a minute, I thought I wanted to stay.

Maybe because I liked being loved by something that never healed right.

Maybe I liked the version of me he never stopped believing in.

Or maybe I liked him secretly.

“Gerard” I spoke, as he turned to me, awaiting for my next words “Can you kiss me again?”

He held my cheeks almost immediately, this time the kiss was slow, tender. I noticed how soft his lips really were. He was a good man.

The same calmness Gerard had earlier when he pressed up to my side, adorably babbling about how he just needed some cuddles as soon as he walked into my dorm some minutes after the lectures were over, is noticeably wearing out considering how he starts shifting around, which would be slightly better if his elbow wasn’t digging into my side every five seconds because he is simply never satisfied with any position he finds. Not to mention how the constant rustling has it harder to listen to anything playing on my phone given how he starts shifting around whenever I lower the volume and stilling whenever I turn it higher.

A sharp sigh escapes my nose as I put my phone aside and stare at the back of Gerard’s head, watching him shift around, staying still for a couple of seconds before he starts the whole thing again.

“Gerard!” I groan, poking his side in return, which compels him to let out a high-pitched scream, jumping on his place. “Stop!”

Freezing, Gerard takes a good moment to look back at me, doing so over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes scanning me up and down. “...I’m doing nothing.” His bottom lip sticks out in a pout.

“Yes, you are. Stop rolling around. You’ve elbowed me about four times, c’mon!”

“Sorry.” Gerard’s eyebrows knit together as he shoots me an apologizing look before he looks away. It doesn’t take even a complete minute, however, for Gerard to start doing the same as if I had never talked to him in the first place. I don’t say anything this time, though, only poking my fingers into his sides out of sudden. “(Y/n),” he cries out shakily, arching his back as his eyes widen.

“I told you to stop!” I can’t hold back a chuckle that erupts from my lungs and pull him by his shoulder so he is lying on his back, only smiling in return to the glare he shoots at me, accusing but also unamused. A red tone already dusts his cheeks while his chest rises and falls with quick breaths. “And you better not even try to deny it this time.”

“But I was just trying to find a nice position,” he mumbles almost inaudibly, clicking his tongue.

Instead of arguing, all I can bring myself to do is to roll my eyes, nodding in dismissal as I sit up and straddle Gerard’s thighs, not averting my gaze away from his as he follows me from under messy strands. “‘M gonna punish you now,” I tease with a chuckle, making Gerard gasp, but what leaves his lips once I am tickling his sides are not chuckles as well. He is... He is fucking moaning and whimpering.

Gerard’s hands fly to his face at the same time I stop tickling him, quiet sounds coming from him among his heavy breathing.

“...Baby?” I raise an eyebrow, running a hand up and down his forearm, soothingly. It’s not the first occasion in which I end up snatching an unexpected moan from Gerard because of how sensitive he is, but it’s always good to make sure, right? “You fine?”

“Y-Yeah,” he swallows.

“Good.” A smile tugs on my lips as I pull my hand away and only wait for him to look at me, his eyes peeking between his fingers, to start tickling him again, this time making him arch his back as a louder whimper escapes his lips when I reach a spot lower down his side. “Hey, uncover your face for me, hm? Let me see you,” I say softly, never stopping my motions, each hopeless reaction from him sending a particular rush down my spine.

Incoherent babbling escapes Gerard’s lips as he finally manages to uncover his face, letting his hands tug on the sheets instead, finally showing his pretty face contorted in pleasure. A louder whimper echoes through the room as he arches his back, thighs shifting under me and he is only held in place due to how I sit on top of them. “(Y/n),” he moans out in a way I need to give him a moment, my teeth sinking in my bottom teeth whilst I watch him, breathing heavily as if I was going through the same.

“Oh my, Gee, look at you,” I mumble softly at the sight of his tented up pajama pants, bulge clearly restraining against the thin fabric.

“Please touch me,” Gerard mumbles, words running one into another. “Fuck— Please, I need it so bad, (y/n), pretty please...”

“Shhh, not yet, okay?” I rub his side lightly for now, not even bothering to hold back a smile at how he lets out a complaining whine. “Let me test something first. You’re a good boy, I know you can handle it untouched, can’t you?”

Regardless of how his face falls a bit, Gerard does his best to him with a nod. “All for you.”

With a brief nod, I go on with my motions, tickling him through the thin fabric of his black shirt—afraid I’m going to hurt him if I touch the skin directly—and the moans and whimpers start to escape from his lips at the same moment, each time sounding more desperate according to how he squirms more in fruitless attempts of moving away from my touch or push his hips, thrust them into nothing in a search for friction. They barely change when I trace his perked up nipples through the shirt, twisting and pinching the nubs, only to have more moans from him. So adorable, hence I can’t stop myself from letting my fingers reach the most sensitive spots more often than not, gradually making an each time bigger mess out of him.

A whine comes from Gerard once I make a brief pause, adjusting my position above him given how I ended up moving a little given how much he was squirming around and my plans wouldn’t be successful if he happened to find some sort of touch against his cock.

It is quite impressive the way the sensitivity just doesn’t wear out at some point. If anything, things just get worse for Gerard with the unceasing touches, almost snatching a sob from him after some point. He arches his back, throwing his head back against the pillow, breathing becoming erratic and it doesn’t take long before a louder, higher-pitched moan escapes his lips, followed by a loud whimper.

“What...” I trail off, noticing the growing wet spot on the end of his bulge in his jeans. “Fuck, baby, I didn’t know you’d be that sensitive.” I almost let out a moan as I watch his hips buckling into nothing until he finally relaxes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Happy, Gee?” A grin tugs on my lips as I rub his sides soothingly this time, eventually slipping my hands under his shirt so I can rub his tummy. My eyes barely leave his pants, though, as I try to process that I actually made him cum untouched like this. “Was it good? Look at you,” I mumble, watching his eyes widen with embarrassment, but he simply looks away instead of covering his face now, probably too weak for it. “Came in your pants while all I did was to tickle you! That was so hot, baby, so hot.” I lean in to press a kiss to his tummy, actually earning myself a soft sound from him this time; the way he stops talking when he is such a mess like this is simply so sweet. “Now, let’s clean you up.”

~

Yesterday’s events are still fresh in my mind, pulling my attention away from whatever the professor was saying during each lecture, clouding my mind with Gerard’s dirty moans and faces when I was tickling him yesterday. Thankfully, the constant distraction does not earn me any embarrassing moment—maybe my dumbass face was enough to warn people not to talk to me. I don’t really need to think much before I shrug in response to Gerard’s question about how my day was.

“Normal. What about yours?”

“It was good.” Gerard nods, fidgeting with his fingers and looking at the ceiling, as if he had never seen any of the posters hanging on the ceiling even if he was the one to tape them there.

“And...?” I raise an eyebrow, scooting closer to him. “What else?”

“And, uh...” His cheeks grow bright red at the same moment and his hands stop.

“What’s it, baby? Tell me.” I nuzzle his neck, mouthing lightly at the exposed pale skin, which quickly makes it rise under my touch with a shiver.

“I-I still want you to touch me,” he mumbles almost inaudibly.

“Oh, really?” I grin as I wrap an arm around him to pull him closer, snatching a small sound from Gerard as I rest my hand over his thigh. “And were you thinking about it all day, maybe? Remembering about how I made you cum in your pants without even touching your crotch? I bet it left you very needy, right? Did you touch yourself?”

“No,” he breathes, his own hand resting over mine on my thigh. “I... I want you to, um, to do it.”

“Good,” I sigh softly. “I’ll treat you so well.” I nibble lightly on the skin, enough to snatch a light moan from him before I can pull away.

“What are you doing?” Gerard furrows his eyebrows and I raise an eyebrow at him in return, settling myself down on my knees before him after pulling his legs apart lightly.

“Gonna blow you,” I state, which sounds more like a question. “Why? Something wrong with it?” I let my hands fall from his thighs, feeling the guilt slowly heave in my chest.

“N-No, it’s not that!” He cups my face at the same time, leaning in to peck my lips. “It’s just that, like...” He exhales, eyes averting away from mine while a red tone spreads across his cheeks, and pulls away from me. “No one, like, ever did that to me, y’know...” His voice is almost inaudible, in a way I wouldn’t be able to listen to him if his dorm wasn’t dead quiet.

“Oh, I get it!” I sigh softly, bringing my hands up to his thighs, running my hands up and down the clothed skin softly. “Just relax, okay? I promise it’s going to be good. You can always say the safeword.”

Gerard hums softly, small, watching me undo his jeans then start to pull them down along with the underwear. “Aren’t you, like, grossed out or something?”

“No, baby, I’m not.” I frown a little. “I’m doing this not only for you. Don’t stress over this. Again, just relax. I’ll make you feel so good.” My voice lowers to a whisper as I wrap a hand around his cock, watching him sigh softly as I start pumping it, moving my hand slowly and tightly, enough to draw a few quiet moans now and then, each time more according to how hard he gets.

A gasp comes from Gerard once my tongue touches his tip, only a brief and simple contact before I can actually trace the area with my tongue and start to take him in my mouth, only more and more motivated by how vocal he becomes, hands tight around the sheets by his sides. My name is barely recognizable as it escapes Gerard’s lips in a whine and he simply grows louder according to how things continue, even letting out a louder moan when I hollow my cheeks around him and start moving my head, needing to keep a hand on his hip to remind him not to thrust forward—at least not yet, I don’t want it to happen yet.

“You taste really good, baby, y’know that?” I grin, looking at him through my lashes before I mouth against the side of his cock, running my tongue against the veins protruding on the skin. Gerard moans out something in a questioning tone, so I hum in some sort of response, still having my lips locked around him, which has another pleased sound coming from him.

The familiar sour taste is already there when I press my tongue down to his slip so I can go down on him again, humming softly and swallowing once my nose meets the skin on the base of his stomach. His thighs quiver under my hands. How lovely.

My tongue trails the tip of Gerard’s cock once again, but I make sure to work my tongue against a spot under it since he had shuddered the last time my tongue traced there. I continue the sucking motions despite the focus on a specific spot, my hand closed and pumping the uncovered area.

My lips pull away from him with a wet sound, and a string of saliva left behind that is quickly broken and falls on my thumb instead. Gerard, on the other hand... Well, he whines shakily.

“Gee, baby?” I look at him, my heart heaving again because he has been a little quieter than usual, not to mention how he’s biting down on his fist, with a few tears escaping the corners of his eyes to slowly trail down his cheeks. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

Gerard takes a few seconds to answer, letting out a whiny sound once he inhales again. “N-No, it’s just s-so good that it burns!” He presses his eyes shut, compelling more tears to trail down his cheeks, and sniffles a little whilst a few choked sounds come from him. Watching him cry because it is actually too fucking good makes something stir in my lower stomach, heading directly down between my legs.

“You look so good when you cry for me like this, y’know? So fucking pretty,” I groan softly, tightening my hand around him in a way his legs—and cock—twitch at the same moment. “Makes me want to fuck you at the same moment. I would do it, y’know?” My thumb grazes the same spot my tongue pressed on repeatedly earlier, having him whine loudly again, hips jerking forward. “But right now, I’m only focusing on pleasing you, giving you a good first experience with this. Otherwise, I’d be ruining you already while making you look at me so I can see that pretty face of yours.”

“(Y/n), please,” he moans before his words start to sound like nothing but nonsense, lost among his cries with how I insist on the spot.

Gerard’s body noticeably relaxes once I start taking him in my mouth again, once more hollowing my cheeks around him, moving faster this time as my fingers sink into his bare thighs, leaving behind such pretty bright red marks on his skin, a contrast to how white his knuckles have become due to gripping at these sheets.

“Fuck!” Gerard’s whines become more high-pitched, voice stained by tears, with how I continue my motions, each time more frantic until there it is. Gerard cums with no warning, especially long, moaning loud and desperate as I keep my mouth around him, milking him dry until almost each motion of mine makes his thighs quiver with the threatening overstimulation.

“So?” I ask, voice hoarse, but I can deal with it; I rub his thigh lightly, chuckling a little once he flops back on the mattress, so I climb on the bed to take a closer look. “Good?”

“Awesome,” he mumbles, eyes on the ceiling with a lazy gaze, hair messy and forehead sweaty. He looks so prettily fucked out. All of it my job.

“Good.” I peck his cheek.

__________________

The New Jersey bar was a dive, dim lights and sticky tables, and also that jukebox’s 90’s pop classics. You were out with your friends, a lively group in your early thirties who lived for nights like these; filled with gin and tonics, annoying laughter and the occasional scandalous gossipy story. You’d already knocked back a few cocktails, the alcohol buzzing through you, making your skin tingle and your confidence soar. Your friends knew your reputation all too well: when the drinks flowed, you had a habit of vanishing into the night with some intriguing stranger. They found it hilarious, always teasing you about your “disappearing acts.” Tonight, as you caught their knowing smirks across the booth, you felt that familiar pull to make mischief.

Your gaze landed on a group of men across the bar. Victims. One stood out: a pale guy with messy black hair, mid-twenties, you reckoned, dressed in a faded band tee, an old leather jacket and loose jeans. He was hunched over a napkin, sketching something, while his mates— a curly-haired one with a warm smile, a skinny one with glasses, and a shorter guy with tattoos and a cocky grin, all chatted animatedly. The black-haired one seemed quieter, almost shy, his hazel eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and nerves when he glanced up.

You slid out of the booth, ignoring your friends’ jokes. “And… off you go,” one muttered, raising her glass. “Text us when you’re home alive!” another called and you shot them a cheeky wink before drunkenly walking over to the guys in that table.

“You lot look like you’re having a laugh. Do you mind if I join?” you asked, leaning against their table with a tipsy grin.

The tattooed one smirked, pulling out a chair. “Go for it.” The curly-haired one nodded, and the skinny one shot a quick glance at the black-haired one, who blushed faintly but managed a soft, “Sure.”

His voice had a real Jersey lilt, nervous but sweet.

“I’m Gerard” he added, almost as an afterthought.

You gave your name, sliding into the seat next to him. The conversation sparked up easily, they were in a band, playing tiny venues and had an album out already. Gerard mentioned his background in comics, his voice lighting up despite his shy demeanour. You leaned in close, your knee brushing his under the table, your fingers grazing his arm as you smiled at his stories.

“Your lips would look gorgeous begging, you know?” you whispered at one point, your breath hot against Gerard’s ear. His face went scarlet, his eyes darting down. A small, nervous smile tugged at his lips.

His friends kept the conversation going, Frank was slinging one-liners that had everyone laughing, but you kept your focus on Gerard. He was weak, blushing every time you teased him, his responses were soft and hesitant. The drinks kept on flowing, shots of something sharp that burned your throat and the night blurred into a haze of flirtation and lingering touches under the table. Your friends caught your eye now and then, raising their glasses in mock salute, clearly amused by your game. They knew you’d slip away soon enough.

As closing time neared, you turned to Gerard. “You can walk me home, yeah? It’s not far.”

His friends grinned, Ray clapped him on the shoulder with a wink, wishing him a good night. Mikey, who you’d learned was his brother, asked for their house keys.

Gerard nodded quickly, almost tripping over himself to follow you. You waved at your friends, their laughter echoing as you left.

“Don’t break him!” one of your friends yelled, and you flipped her off playfully.

The night air was cool, sobering you just enough to sharpen your senses. You linked your arm through Gerard’s, guiding him down the quiet streets. He rambled nervously about his band’s last gig, but you silenced him with a kiss against a lamppost, your lips firm and demanding. He melted into you, a soft whimper escaping as his hands hovered uncertainly before settling on your waist. You smirked against his mouth, already knowing you’d have him exactly where you wanted.

Your flat was a cosy mess, books strewn across shelves, fairy lights casting a warm glow, a half-empty bottle of red wine on the counter. The door barely clicked shut before you pushed him against it, your mouth crashing into his. You could taste the nerves in his mouth, his kisses were eager and yet submissive, letting you take the lead. You pulled back, cupping his chin gently to make him meet your gaze. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me, aren’t you?” you murmured, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, eyes wide and pupils blown. “Whatever you want.. Yeah.”

You led him to the bedroom, your hand firm around his wrist. In the soft light of your bedside lamp, you stripped him slowly, savouring the way he shivered under your touch. His pale skin flushed pink, caressing his bare shoulders and he stood docile, letting you tug off his shirt and jeans. You pushed him onto your bed, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He looked up at you, lips parted. Completely at your mercy.

Kneeling between his legs, you ran your hands up his thighs, feeling him tremble. “Aren’t you desperate?,” you teased, your fingers hooking into his underwear and pulling them down. His dick sprang free, hard and leaking, the tip glistening. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, watching his face contort with need.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice was already weak and you hadn’t even started yet.

You leaned down, your tongue flicking over the head, tasting the saltiness of the pre-cum and his sweat. He gasped, hips twitching, but you pinned him down with a hand on his stomach. “Stay still, baby,” you ordered, and he obeyed instantly, biting his lip. You took him into your mouth, inch by inch, your lips stretching around him. Years of experience made this second nature, you knew exactly how to work him, hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue along the underside, humming to send vibrations through him.

Gerard was a mess underneath you, whimpering and moaning, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Oh God, please, fuck,” he babbled, his voice was now high and desperate. You took him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate him, your right hand massaging his balls. His hips bucked slightly, but a sharp look from you made him still, his apologies tumbling out in a rush.

You kept the pace relentless, sucking hard and fast. When he started to tense, his moans turning into broken pleas, you didn’t slow down. “I’m, I’m gonna—” he gasped and with a final deep thrust on your throat, he came, hot and thick in your mouth. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was shaking. Poor Gerard was oversensitive and whining softly.

You pulled back, licking your lips, and smirked at his flushed and confused expression. Your hands caressed his face gently. “Do you think you can give me another one of those, baby?” you asked, with a soft command.

He nodded weakly, his chest heaving. “Yes, please… I’ll try my best,” he whispered, so submissive it sent a thrill through you. You didn’t give him time to recover, your mouth returning to his softening cock. You licked and sucked with deliberate slowness this time, coaxing him back to hardness. He whimpered, oversensitive but accommodating to you, his hands hovering near your hair until you nodded permission. His fingers threaded through gently, not daring to tug it.

You teased him mercilessly, grazing your teeth lightly along his length, then soothing with your tongue. Your fingers massaged circled on his ass, not entering but pressing just enough to make him arch off the bed.

“Please, oh, fuck me with your fingers, please,” he begged, face flushed completely “Fuck.”

“Not tonight, baby,” you answered.

That second orgasm built slower, his body trembling under the intensity, but when it hit, it was devastating. He came with a sob, his whole body convulsing, another smaller load spilling into your mouth as you took it all, savouring his surrender.

You crawled up beside him, letting him curl into you, his head on your chest as he caught his breath. His fingers traced patterns on your skin, his eyes were wide when he stared at you. “That was… I’ve never…” he trailed off, too overwhelmed to even say what he wanted to say.

You chuckled, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

“Maybe next time you can bring your cute friend with the tattoos,” you said with a wicked grin, watching his eyes widen in flustered surprise.

From that night on, Gerard was somehow yours. He sought you out at the bar, sent you shy e-mails with doodles and song snippets, his thoughts consumed by you.