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

chapter seventeen

"I'm gonna get pneumonia," Frank calls. "Again. Maybe I'll die."

He heaves himself up off the couch and squelch-drips his way into the kitchen, jumping up onto the counter and kicking his feet like a little kid. He wouldn't dream of doing the same in anyone else's kitchen, but he's pretty sure the Ways' counters have seen a hell of a lot worse than a little rainwater.

"Pneumonia, huh? We can't have that," says Gerard, pouring a generous splash of something honey-colored and boozy-smelling into a chipped mug of steaming coffee. He hands it to Frank and he takes it gratefully, curling his hands around the yellowed porcelain and enjoying the heat. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. It smells fucking incredible, rich and dark and spiky. Gerard likes his coffee strong enough to fell the Incredible Hulk, and between that and whatever he's spiked Frank's with, it's enough to make Frank cough and splutter. He drinks it anyway; the feeling of warmth spreading out through every inch of him is toe-curlingly delicious. His mom and dad usually don't even let him have coffee, they say it gets him too hyped up. He takes another sip, letting it burn his tongue.

Gerard eyes his own reflection in the microwave window, pursing his lips thoughtfully and tilting his head from side to side. "My fuckin' roots are showing," he says sadly. "I'll have to go and get some more dye. Does this place even have anywhere that sells it?"

"You dye it?" Frank asks, downing another sip of his coffee. Now he's looking, he can kind of see it. He knows some of his mom's friends from church bleach theirs blonde or try to cover up their grey hairs, but Frank doesn't think he's ever met a dude who colors his. "Why?"

Gerard shrugs, still peering at his reflection. "I just like it better like this, I guess. It's like wearing lipstick, you know?" he says. "Like, it's just color, but it makes you feel different."

Frank means to nod thoughtfully and make an intelligent face. Instead, he makes a face like a startled goldfish and says, "You – lipstick?"

"What?" Gerard looks over his shoulder at Frank, one eyebrow raised. "Don't tell me you've never tried it."

Frank shakes his head, and Gerard's face splits into a sharp-edged grin. "C'mon," he says, grabbing Frank by the hand and pulling him down off the counter. Frank stumbles after him into the bathroom, wondering when he's going to wake up from this bizarre fever dream that bears no resemblance to his actual life.

"Up here," says Gerard, patting the counter and bending down to rummage in the cupboard under the sink. Frank climbs up obediently, sitting with his back to the mirror and his feet dangling off the edge. Gerard finally finds what he was looking for and fishes it out with a triumphant cry, and moves back to stand in front of Frank. He pulls the cap off, and offers Frank the tube. It's a bright, lurid red, almost glowing under the single bare light bulb, and for a split second Frank can see a snake coiled around a gleaming apple.

Gerard's smiling that smile that makes Frank feel like he's not in on the joke.

"I'll fuck it up, you do it," says Frank. He has a feeling that this was what Gerard had in mind all along.

Gerard nudges Frank's legs apart so he can get between them, then leans in until he's so close that Frank can feel the warmth of his skin. He curls one hand around the back of Frank's neck, his thumb resting on Frank's cheek, holding Frank exactly where he wants him.

"Open," he says, and Frank opens his mouth obediently. Gerard drags the lipstick slowly over Frank's bottom lip, and then the top. He leans back slightly to get a good look at his handiwork, then says, "Okay, you gotta, like, press 'em together. Like this."

He demonstrates, and Frank does his best to copy the ridiculously distracting thing Gerard's doing with his mouth. "Like that?" he says. The lipstick feels fucking weird, waxy and sort of sweet-tasting, and Frank's heart is kicking in his chest.

"Take a look." Gerard nods at the mirror behind Frank, and Frank twists around to see.

His eyes go straight to his reflection's red, open mouth. He knows it's still his face, but he looks – different. Needy and wanting. He feels just as desperate and slutty now as he did on his hands and knees, begging Gerard to fuck him harder. Sinner, he thinks. Whore for color. He stares.

"Pretty," says Gerard softly, looking over Frank's shoulder. "Such a pretty fuckin' girl, Frank, fuck."

Frank spins back to face Gerard without even thinking. He needs Gerard to touch him now, needs his hands or his mouth or whatever Gerard will give him. Gerard gets one hand in Frank's hair and pulls him in until they're pressed flush against each other, Gerard's mouth hot and wet on Frank's. Gerard bites down on Frank's lip, and Frank's hard and rutting mindlessly against Gerard before he even knows what's happening. When Gerard breaks the kiss, his hair is sticking up crazily and there's red smeared all around his mouth.

He looks almost too good to be true, like he's suddenly the only thing there is. Frank would die for him right now, Gerard's name on his bloody lips.

Gerard starts to tug him down off the counter. Frank goes willingly, and then drops to his knees.

"I – can I?" he asks shakily, because he wants. He wants to taste Gerard, wants to leave the color on his skin as if that'll somehow make Frank his. Gerard is already unzipping his jeans and pushing them down, and Frank licks his lips. The light in the bathroom does weird things to Gerard's skin, makes him look even paler than he really is, but his cock is flushed and hard already and Frank cannot fucking wait any longer.

It isn't the first time he's done this, so he's expecting – fuck, anticipating the stretch and the taste. This time, though, Gerard's just letting Frank do what he wants, like this is some kind of reward or something, fuck. Frank's dick twitches in his jeans, and he sinks down and takes Gerard as deep as he can. He has to pull off before long, his eyes watering, but when he looks up, the heat in Gerard's eyes makes his stomach flip. Frank's knees are already sore and cold from the tiles, but he's so far past caring right now, so he dips his head again and mouths at Gerard's cock. He feels almost drunk. There's just something about the heat of Gerard's skin and the salty, musky taste of him that's going to Frank's head.

He's making appreciative noises, his hips bucking forward into Frank's mouth, and it's good, it's so fucking good. Frank's dick is pressing painfully against his zipper.

"Yeah," breathes Gerard, his voice rough. "Shit, Frank, just like that. Fuck, yeah."

Frank whines and sucks harder, working his tongue against the underside of Gerard's cock. He can see the smudges of color he's leaving, stark and shocking against Gerard's skin. God, that was him. He put them there and he's the one making Gerard moan like that. There's no fucking way this should be so hot, and there's absolutely no way Frank should be enjoying being down on his knees this much, no way he should be getting this turned on by sucking cock.

Gerard's thrusts are getting quicker and more erratic, his cock hitting the back of Frank's throat every time, and Frank works not to gag. He's been sloppy, but the spit just makes the slide better as Gerard uses Frank's mouth and tells him how good he feels, how well he's doing.

Frank can feel it when Gerard's close; he goes tense and Frank fucking moans. Gerard's hips snap forward one last time, and then he's coming with a filthy groan. Frank tastes the first pulse of his come, slick and bitter like he remembers, but then Gerard pulls out and Frank barely has time to screw his eyes shut before he feels it streaking his face, hot and sticky and so fucking dirty. When he opens his eyes again, Gerard is looking down at him – fuck, possessively, and Frank's breath hitches.

Gerard reaches down and pulls Frank up by his shirt, and Frank gets such a fierce head rush that he's sure he'd fall right back down if Gerard didn't have an arm around him. Gerard's running his filthy mouth right by Frank's ear, and when he finally manages to get Frank's jeans unzipped and his underwear shoved out of the way, Frank is so, so ready. Gerard licks his palm and starts jacking Frank off with quick, firm strokes, and Frank lasts about twenty seconds before he comes so hard his knees nearly give out. He presses his face into Gerard's neck and tries to get his breath back, but Gerard chuckles and pokes him in the ribs.

"Shit, look at us," he says, and Frank does. Next to each other in the mirror, both tousled and panting and lipstick-smeared, they look like they match. Like they're part of the same set, like this is right, Frank thinks, and he feels something warm settling on his shoulders.