Pretty. (Frerard, Petekey, Ryden, Peterick)

14: I Would Go Fuck Myself, But You Beat Me To It

"Kiss me." Gee uttered, eyes all open wide and innocent, lashes dark with smudges of mascara that are slowly fading down into his snow white skin, and Frank reckoned he looked like some sort of pageant queen like that, perhaps all he needed was some sort of fucking feather boa, not that Frank would want his boyfriend in anymore clothes right now - that would be nothing but counter productive, of course.

"What's the magic word?" Frank teased, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as his boyfriend pulled Frank closer, meeting his eyes and everything was magic and sparks, and nothing else quite seemed to matter, and Frank didn't even feel embarrassed about the possibility of fucking Gee when Lindsey was just in the other room.

"Asshole." Gee muttered, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend, wondering just how on earth he'd ended up here, and of course, never regretting a single thing.

"Not quite right, I was going for please, but-" Frank didn't quite get the chance to finish before Gee crashed their lips together, pushing Frank back down onto the bed with the impact, and the seventeen year old couldn't help but smile into the kiss before reciprocating and missing the lipgloss taste on Gee's now natural lips.

"Did I ever tell you that you're perfect?" Gee mumbled out as they pulled away and lay beside Frank in bed, their pinkie fingers linked, leaving Gee feeling like a fifteen year old girl, and Frank trying his best not to embarrass himself with the blush that was clinging to his cheeks like some kind of toxic, karma ridden, wildfire.

"Shut up, I'm far from perfect, I tell you." Frank nuzzled his face into Gee's side; blush insistent upon refusing to leave his cheeks. "You, on the other hand, that is surely a different matter."

"Don't be a hypocrite, Frankie, darling." He uttered. The pitch of his voice rising in an amusingly feminine manner as he spoke, and Frank didn't even try to suppress the giggle that begged for escape from his lips.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes, smirking shamelessly as he moved to sat on Gee's hips, grinning wildly at the gasp his boyfriend let out as Frank chose to press himself down dangerously close to his crotch.

"Jesus...." Gee exclaimed as Frank began to grind down a little. "What was all this about de-stressing my asshole?" He brought back Frank's words from earlier with a smile, gracing his lips in a manner that Frank simply could not say no to.

"Something you'll have to earn, Gee." Frank reckoned he enjoyed teasing his boyfriend all too much, but he reckoned he enjoyed fucking him so much more, but Gee would indeed have to see just how patient he could be. "You gonna be good, huh?"

"How about you stop being such a goddamn tease, huh?" Gee offered a suggestion, but he knew Frank wouldn't be all that inclined to listen to him, unless... unless, hmm...

And before Frank could recognise what was happening, Gee was pushing Frank off his hips and making his way over to his boyfriend, the two of them kind of half sat down, half kneeling next to each other as the seventeen year old watched all wide eyes as Gee ran his hands up under the Frank's shirt, the cold touch against shine letting shameless little moans trail from Frank's lips, littered with perfect construed obscenities, powering Gee's hands on up Frank's skin, ridding him of his shirt, and discarding it upon the floor of Lindsey's spare room, leaving the seventeen year old shirtless, and smirking down at his boyfriend, as he mimicked Gee's action, leaving the two of them shirtless, and intentions of the night before them out in the open.

It was as Gee ran his hands down, palming at what was now a bulge in Frank's jeans, considering just how long he would tease him, before putting his lips to Frank's dick, but everything seemed to stop all of sudden: slow motion as Frank gripped Gee's sides a little too tightly, pulling him up and running his eyes down his boyfriend's figure, and it was only then did Gee let his gaze follow Frank's, his eyes meeting the marks and bruises littered across his hips - the work of none other than Bert McCracken.