nobody will love you like the devil will//frerard/ferard

chapter fifteen

The day suddenly got more exciting for Frank when he finally slipped through the heavy double doors of the school and sprinted across the parking lot, blinking in the sunlight. Gerard is leaning against the hood of his car, smoke in hand, leather jacket casually unzipped and mirrored aviators shading his eyes. Frank isn't sure whether he wants to jump him or just be him.

"Hi," says Gerard, dropping his half-smoked cigarette and grinding it under his heel. "Get in the car, we're going somewhere."

Frank climbs obediently into the passenger seat while Gerard takes the driver's side and turns the key in the ignition. He takes his sunglasses off and hands them to Frank. Frank blinks down at them stupidly for a long moment.

Gerard rolls his eyes. "Put them on, loser," he says, and Frank does. Gerard takes a good, long look at him, smirking like there's no tomorrow.

"You're adorable," he tells Frank.

"Um," says Frank. "Thanks?"

"Don't mention it." Gerard steps on the gas and pulls out into the street.

"So where are we going?" asks Frank, when he realizes he has absolutely no idea what Gerard's got planned. His stupid, treacherous stomach is full of stupid fucking butterflies. Really, really big butterflies. Fucking owls, or something.

"What? Oh, nowhere. I was just bored this morning, you know?"

The owls in Frank's stomach flutter unhelpfully. Gerard was bored, so he came and pulled Frank out of school. Frank knows for a fact that Gerard has a Playstation and a ridiculously extensive DVD collection at his apartment, and he still came for Frank. Stupid fucking owls, Frank thinks savagely, willing himself not to blush. Going by the sly smile on Gerard's face, he's pretty sure he's failing.

Frank turns the radio on and fucks with the buttons until he finds a classic rock station, and Gerard nods approvingly.

"I love this song!" he says, drumming his fingers on the wheel in time with We're Not Gonna Take It. Frank sort of starts bobbing his head along with the song, but Gerard's aviators nearly slip right off the end of his nose, so he stops.

Gerard drives out to the edge of town, pulling up on top of the hill that overlooks the patchwork of fields that stretches out as far as Frank can see.

"So," says Gerard, looking over at Frank and grinning like the Cheshire cat. "You're already cutting class and listening to the devil's music, you wanna go for the high score and make out with a dude in his car?"

Frank would laugh, but he's kind of distracted by the way he really, really does. The fucking owls are back with a vengeance, and he catches himself licking his lips. Gerard doesn't say anything, just takes his sunglasses off Frank and tosses them carelessly into the back seat, then reaches out and reels Frank in by his school tie.

Gerard kisses lightly at first, gently, pressing his closed lips to Frank's and completely throwing Frank for a loop. It feels weirdly sweet, almost – Frank doesn't know, innocent. He's used to kissing Gerard feeling wrong, like something he shouldn't be doing. The guilt hasn't gone, he's just gotten better at ignoring it and leaving it to deal with at a more convenient time.

Then Gerard makes an impatient noise, pulls on Frank's tie, gets the other hand around the back of his neck and starts kissing him for real. He kisses hard, dirty and greedy, like he wants all of Frank now. Gerard tilts Frank's head to get better access to Frank's mouth, and Frank goes limp under his hands and lets him do it. He can feel Gerard's stubble scraping against his skin, Gerard's hand in his hair, keeping Frank exactly where he wants him.

It's so much better than Frank ever imagined kissing could be. It's awesome.

Gerard pulls back and trails kisses down Frank's neck, and Frank shivers when he feels the scrape of Gerard's teeth.

"Shit, you know what I wanna do?" Gerard says roughly. "Wanna mark you up, give you a hickey that's gonna last for days. Right there on your neck where everyone can see."

Frank tenses, because – yeah. Fuck, yeah. It'd be like some kind of badge of ownership, like Gerard claiming him, and there's something in his brain telling him yes. He really wants that.

On the other hand, he's not wild about the idea of having to explain it to his parents. Or the priest. Or the Mother Superior, fuck, he'd actually die on the spot out of sheer mortification.

laughs softly against Frank's skin. "Not today," he says. "Maybe some other time, though."

Frank can't think about anything but Gerard, Gerard, Gerard. It feels like being drunk. It feels like being sugar-high. It feels amazing.

"You hard, huh? You hard for me?" Gerard's breath ghosts over the sweet spot under Frank's ear, one of his hands dropping down to palm Frank's dick through his school slacks. Frank groans, somehow managing a jerky nod and trying to push back against Gerard's hand. Gerard chuckles, low and throaty.

"God, look at you. You're so fuckin' needy," he says, and Frank whines. Even if he could string together the words to disagree, the way he's hard and rubbing himself against Gerard's hand like a cat in heat is pretty damning.

"Bet you'd suck me off right here, if I asked," Gerard breathes. Frank's breath hitches, his already scrambled train of thought derailing spectacularly. If Gerard did ask-- fuck, or even just unzipped his jeans, pushed Frank's head down and fucked his mouth, Frank knows he'd take it. Right here in the car, where there's every chance they could get caught. Fuck, there must be something wrong with him, Frank thinks wildly. There is no way he should be getting off so hard on the thought of being seen and judged, his mouth red and used and his pants not hiding anything. Slutty, he thinks, trying the label on for size as he tips his head back to give Gerard better access to his neck. Needy. An easy fuck. He can work with that, just as long as Gerard keeps touching him.

"Can I--" he starts, not really knowing how he's going to finish the question. Something. Anything. But Gerard is drawing back, making Frank's hips buck forward as he tries to chase Gerard's hand.

"Oh, no," he says, and Frank could fucking cry. "C'mon, we've got to get you back to school before the nuns come looking for you."

"I – wait, what?" Frank groans. "You're an asshole." His brain still feels slow and muddled. He catches his reflection in the rearview mirror, and his tie is crooked, his cheeks are bright pink and his hair's pretty dramatically fucked-up. He looks exactly like what he is: someone who's just been kissed senseless.

"Yup. Put your seatbelt on."