modillian: (dresden - brian hoyay arms)
[personal profile] modillian
I DID NOT MAKE THE INITIAL REQUEST. No srsly, it wasn't me. So I'm not fulfilling my own request (really!), I'm just doing something that needs to be done anyway. I'm performing a public service, dangit!

You should read the ficbabble first for context. I've thrown all the exposition out the window and gone straight to the end where they guys are asking Frank for things. Are we all caught up now? Good, awesome, here's more porn.


The One Where Frank Gets Gangbanged
MCR GSF. NC-17. 7300 words.
Warnings: Uh, possible squickage since both the Ways have ~sexual relations with Frank in close proximity to each other. Also Frank enjoys being tied up/held down/choked, mild D/s themes.
Summary: "I want a gangbang!" Frank announces in the lounge while he beats Bob in a Mario Kart match. "And I want those Doritos."



"I think," Gerard says, and then he stops, biting his lip, like he always does. Frank rocks around on the railing and waits for him to collect all the stray thoughts together. Frank bets Gerard's got like, twenty-year-old lint and random Transformers trivia and song lyrics all mushed around together in the same mental cubbyhole. It's probably why he woke up himself up shouting about disco Decepticons the other day.

"I think I want all of you to fuck me," Gerard says thoughtfully, and Frank goes uhn and sits down too hard on the metal bar, ow fuck his asshole!, and totters to the side, falling in the dirt.

"Yeah!" Gerard's enthusiastic and earnest now that he's patched that idea together, tucking hair behind his ears and big-eyed. "Yeah, I think that'd be really good! I mean, you don't mind do you, Frankie? It's really, it's different than usual, but I don't think it'd be too difficult for you, right?" Frank goggles at Gerard, dirt all over his wolf hoodie and he feels like he's boiling up. Gerard's really getting into a steam now. "Yeah, the guys won't mind switching it up, probably." Gerard ruffles his hands in his hair so it goes sticking up all over the place. He pauses. "This is going to be. So awesome." And that is just fucking it.

"No!" Frank exclaims when he hasn't even gotten his breath back. He heaves up off the dirt. "No, you aren't getting gangbanged before me, motherfucker!" He pokes a finger through the burnhole in Gerard's jean jacket. "You're line-jumping! You just want to get ahead of me."

"I do not. You never asked for a gangbang. How was I supposed to know you wanted one?" Gerard's all frownyfaced, and no, that is not gonna work. Frank knows when he's getting shortchanged.

"Well fuck you, I didn't know you wanted one," he fires back, and pulls Gerard close with the finger hooked inside the jacket.

"That doesn't even make sense," Gerard murmurs, and Frank goes uh-huh and ignores his sense of indignation to lick over Gerard's mouth instead. Gerard opens immediately and their tongues meet, twist together, exactly how Frank likes it. Gerard's so good at this, has been since the beginning, so good Frank that had no fucking clue how fucking much it would be beforehand, so much that he'd gotten a headrush the first time they made out in the back of the van and he'd had to lie back and lounge around dreamily until he came back into his own head again. Gerard had been lying on his chest and playing with his own fingers when Frank did.

They kiss until a merch girl comes around giggling, a camera hanging around her neck.

"Okay, alright, first dib's yours," Gerard slurs, mouth moving too slowly for the words, and he wipes off his lips with the back of his hand. He's got color all up on his cheeks.

"You're fuckin' right it is." Frank tries to come out indignant, but he still feels all breathy and kiss-struck and his knees are a bit rubbery.

Fuck.

Fuck.

***

The thing is, Frank hasn't asked for a gangbang because he hasn't wanted one. It's crossed his mind before, but for the longest time it'd been tough enough getting one of the guy's attention and they all got kinda pissed off at him for being a cockhungry motherfucker for a while there (before Bob accidentally-on-purpose held him down and Frank had practically come all over himself in excitement, fuck, he can't even believe he let that slip up. Well, he can sort of believe it. He misses some of the teasing he got to do before, but it's not exactly a hardship to get tied up and fucked through the floor, either.)

So Frank hasn't really wanted a gangbang, not if the guys are just gonna get all bitchy about it. But fuck it all if Gerard's going to get one before he does, goddamnit. Gerard'll just have to wait his turn.

"I want a gangbang!" Frank announces in the lounge while he beats Bob in a Mario Kart match. "And I want those Doritos." Mikey hugs the red bag to his chest and turns away.

"I didn't know you wanted a gangbang. I thought Gerard said something first," and wow, is it ever unusual that Bob says something that's not trash-talking in the middle of a game. Frank takes advantage of Bob's loss of concentration and finishes him off for good, WINNER flashing on the screen.

Later, Frank's giggling through a blowjob, going down on Mikey and coming back up to laugh and spit on his stomach, Mikey cursing and squirming and pinching Frank's arms. Frank gives one good, long suck, feeling it thick and hot in his throat, before coming back up to nibble Mikey's hip. "You know, I think I fucked your great-aunt once. Mathilda! The one with the huge...tracts of land," Frank says, and giggles.

"Fu-uck," Mikey hitches out, as punchy as he gets, and Frank's can't help it, he hrmmms all low in his chest in anticipation.

"Shut the fuck up, Frank," Mikey says, and he grabs Frank about the ears and brings Frank's mouth up to the head of his cock. Frank lets it slide against his cheek at first, but at the second pass Mikey thrusts up and Frank opens, covers his teeth, saliva already cloggy at the back of his mouth. Frank breathes out hard through his nose and goes down, and Mikey hold him down, thrusting up carelessly, fingers lacing across the back of Frank's skull. Frank gets so zoned out when he's like this that all he can do is focus on breathing and not using his teeth. Mikey comes without warning and Frank chokes, comes up coughing. Frank gets the last of it spurting out under his chin and he wheezes, grinds his dick against the mattress and his face against Mikey's belly. He comes and stills, folding up and feeling the sweet burn. His dick isn't as raw as his throat.

Mikey, not one to stand on ceremony, bucks him off and leaves him to lie face-down in the bunk to recover. Frank can dig it.

After while, when he's letting his dick air out and running fingers down his own chest (the bruises are mostly gone, dammit, he'll have to get around to Ray later in the week), something biffs against the drawn curtain of the bunk and falls to the floor outside. Frank pushes back the curtain to see a rolled up tube on the floor. Mikey's in his own bunk right across from him. "I don't know if you could do it, man," Mikey says.

"What?"

"The gangbang. Besides, we're out of lube."

Frank is still somewhat sex-woozy. "It's easy to buy lube."

Mikey raises an eyebrow, and okay, something else is up. "What? I said I want it, so I want it. It's just easier to get a gangbang out of your moms that out of you guys. So fucking bitchy." Frank wants to sound cranky but he's still pretty fucking laid at the moment so it comes out as a drawl. It's part of his charm, whatever.

"Okay," Mikey says. "But you'd better ask Bob about it."

"What's to ask? He owes me one anyways."

"I thought you owed him a banana split and three back issues of Outsiders?"

"Same difference. Like he doesn't love to pound my ass three days a week and four on a leap year."

"Uh-huh," Mikey hums, but it's not agreement. Frank lies back down, rubbing over the marks still lingering and thinking about the set from today and what he'll do differently tomorrow and enjoying the rubbed-raw echo from Mikey in his mouth. He thinks about what just happened and licks his lips.

Mikey looks over at him occasionally.

***

And okay, so maybe he thinks about the gangbang. He hasn't made a move for it yet, though, and neither have they.

But. Bob. Bob really does love his ass. He's serious and hard about it and bends Frank up so he can barely breathe and has to beg to be let up enough to come. Frank has never been hefted up and made to come on so many different surfaces before Bob started fucking him.

Bob might not agree to a gangbang, though.

"What made you think of that?" Bob asks when Frank accosts him at picnic table in the concert arena. It's breezy and early-morning chilly in Virginia, but the sun dapples through the clouds over all the stilted autumn trees and scraggly grass and the few people awake and meandering about in the distance.

"I dunno. Seems like the thing to do," Frank lies. He mentally thumbs his nose at Gerard, that greedy, line-cutting grabber. Bob licks a finger and turns a page on the comic Frank brought for him. They haven't had the chance to stop at a diner for a banana split yet. "So what do you think? Mikey says I'm going to pussy out."

"Are you?"

"No, what! This is totally my idea. It's a good one, right? You'd do it, right?" Frank bites his thumbnail. "I mean, you've done it before, right?" Bob rolls a lazy eye at him, which actually doesn't tell him anything.

Because, as it turns out, Bob is actually secretly the kinkiest one out of all of them and has way more knowledge about the right kinds of lube and restraints than Frank had expected out of him. Fucking of course Bob was the one to hold him down first. And Bob loves, loves Frank's ass, so he listens to Frank when he should and shuts Frank up when he should and brings Frank IcyHot packets and gives good back massages after; Frank's ears burn and his insides shiver, but fuck if he doesn't like it. Bob is really good, really thorough at his shit. Bob would know about gangbangs.

Frank shifts around on the hard bench and tries to explain. "So, there are the little boxes in your head you shove stuff in, right? Like, there's the Comics Box and Food Box and the Music Box-"

"The Music Box," Bob repeats, and Frank flips him off.

"And in the Music Box there're little compartments, right? In an ordered mind anyway." Damn Gerard for his craziness driving Frank crazy. "And in the little compartments are things like 'all The Clash I memorized' and 'need to work on this shit for the band' and 'kickass new music I heard the other night', right?" Bob nods. "And then there's the Sex Box. With all the little compartments."

"What's in the compartments?" Bob asks, face bland. Frank shivers, not from the breeze.

"There's like, 'where are my condoms' and 'who I've fucked this week' and 'stuff I like'."

"And whadd'ya like, Frankie," Bob murmurs, all attention on Frank and not the comic. Frank has to reach down to adjust himself. Fuck this, this is getting ridiculous.

Frank clears his throat and makes sure to say it loud and steady. "So, like, the gangbang compartment hasn't really been cracked open much before. There's like, porn thrown in there but that's it. I just thought I'd mention it."

One of the beams of light hits his eyes and Frank has to grumble and shift to see Bob's face. "I thought Gerard'd mentioned it first," Bob says again.

"Gerard steals all my good ideas, you know that." Frank doesn't blush but Bob rolls his eyes at the lie anyways. "Or, you know, I want it first. Before him. I'm totally the right person for the job! I totally deserve it." Frank's going to tackle him from across the table if Bob makes him keep explaining.

"So all the other sex compartments have gotten good use?" Bob says, all business, cracking his knuckles.

"Oh yeah, sure. Getting tied up, choking on dick, all the usual. That's good." Frank doesn't say it, but he puts those in the Awesome Box too, along with the just-right tang of good licorice, the swoopy feeling of going on a rollercoaster, and the high after playing a good set. Gangbangs aren't in the Awesome Box though, and Frank’s maybe unsure if they’ll ever be. He’s not gonna pussy out though, now that it’s out there hanging in the air, and not if Gerard's ready to snatch it first.

"And you want to try out the gangbang thing," Bob says, folding up his comic.

"Um, duh. What do I keep saying?"

"Alright, alright, just making sure." Bob rubs his chin. "It's not a bad idea, I guess."

"So you'll do it?" Frank brushes away that tenterhooks feeling that keeps popping up.

"Yeah," Bob says. He finishes scratching his beard after a long moment. Then he says, "Hey, you want me to fuck you later?"

The nervous feeling disappears. "Yeah," Frank says all enthusiastically. "You still got that new rope? I didn't fuck it up too much last time?"

"Nah, it's still good," Bob says, and then they grab Ray and Brian to get vegan pancakes for breakfast.

After the show Bob ties Frank's arms behind his back and fucks him over a table, and Frank forgets why he felt weird earlier in the day.

***

They start ramping it up, is what happens.

Ray, who is sweet, who is so sweet, fucks Frank all tenderly until Frank bites his shoulder and asks for bruises. Instead of gradually building up to it like usual, Ray just does it, plows right in and grips Frank so hard with his hands. Ray tries to stop himself from bruising at first, usually, until he forgets and he lets himself go, and Frank comes with that in mind. The next day they both hole up in the bus studio and punch out a really awesome melody. Frank tries to sex him up in victory but what happens is Ray holds him down by the shoulders, his thigh jammed hard between Frank's legs, and he makes Frank rub himself off. Frank can barely talk the rest of the day and sleeps away half of it anyway.

Frank eggs on Gerard and makes fun of his roots growing in and wiggles his hips to tease. Gerard honks laughing and wiggles his hips back but they still end up making out really hot and syrupy and slow, Gerard pinning him to the floor, Frank rubbing up restlessly. "Stop being so pushy," Gerard says when Frank bites, and Frank sticks his tongue in Gerard's ear, so Gerard moves them around to sixty-nine instead. Frank comes first and Gerard makes a little face up at him, prissy about the taste. Frank snorts at him until he gets Gerard to just fuck his face instead, and Gerard doesn't ask if he's sure, doesn't get all squinty-eyed about it, he fucks Frank's throat and makes him take it all the way. Frank swallows shakily and Gerard helps him up to lie on the couch, blissed out, and Frank misses dinner.

Mikey even blew him the other day, seriously, and Frank needs to remember to ask for that more often because Mikey looked good with his eyes closed, chin sticky, and his face in Frank's lap, so much so that Frank just let himself groan loudly and breathe through it and hold back his hips without being asked. "That was good," Mikey said, and Frank said, "Hrrrn," and then they split a Twix bar.

Frank is running out of reasons and misgivings to put it off.

"I fucking want a gangbang, motherfuckers!" he says to the room. Ray turns a little red. Bob shrugs. "Oh for fuck's sake. My birthday is coming up! I need a birthday present. Come onnnnn, you guys." Frank makes doe eyes at Gerard and Mikey. They just look at each other, Mikey talking with his eyebrows while Gerard waves around his hands.

"If you want," Ray says, spreading his palms (big palms, BIG palms, Frank's mind chants while rifling through the Awesome Box.)

"We've got a hotel in a couple days," Gerard says. "We could do it then. Early birthday present."

"I got some more Cheetos and that new X-Box game," Mikey adds. "No worries about the afterparty." Frank scowls at him.

Bob gives Frank a thumbs-up and clicks buttons on a controller. Ray gets up to power on the game system and grabs a second controller. Gerard and Mikey settle in to watch them.

"Oh!" Frank blinks. "Well okay then." He points at Bob. "You're bringing the good lube." Bob just jerks his head in assent.

***

"Why the fuck do we have two beds?" Mikey says after they tromp inside. Gerard sets about arranging the table and furniture to his satisfaction, because he is a giant weirdo, and Mikey helps him. What freaks.

Freaks who are about to fuck him. Mikey's been smirking all afternoon and Gerard's been holding him in an intense, focused stare whenever Frank met his gaze.

Awesome.

"Because they were all out of honeymoon suits, sugarpants." Frank pulls on Bob's wallet chain and Bob shoves him onto one bed.

"Ooooh, feisty already! I like it." Frank bounces up and down. Bob slaps his shoulder -friendly-like, not sexy-like- and throws a bag on the free bed before heading into the bathroom.

"I'm so amazing, you all totally want my hot body," Frank crows. No one says anything in response, so Frank take it as either glorious agreement or lots of silent exasperation. He grins and wiggles around pulling out the ends of the bedding. You have to mess shit up a little bit to prepare for hardcore messing up. As it were. Frank snickers to himself and takes off his pants.

"Wow, isn't that uncomfortable? I totally wouldn't go commando if I were you," Ray says, pulling a pump-top and a box of condoms out of Bob's bag. He tosses them on Frank's bed for easy access and ruffles up the pillows on his own.

"Then it's a good thing we're not the same person. What would that be like, Siamese twins? Fucking would be real difficult like that." It's still a little chilly in here, so Frank keeps his t-shirt on and tries to smirk at Gerard for input. Gerard is instead sharing his intense mind-meld with either Ray or the ugly striped wallpaper.

Mikey's taking off his shoes. "Not if you were like, attached at the side. Or at the arm maybe." And now Mikey's taking off his pants and sitting on the end of Frank's bed.

"At the arm? Why wouldn't you just get unattached if it's by the arm?"

"Whatever," Mikey says. "Get offa there and suck me off." Frank giggles and rolls on his side, and he giggles all the way to his knees. He is, maybe, a little nervous still. But Bob remains out of sight, and cocksucking is a long-ago-learned skill, and he relaxes into the rhythm of it, opening his throat and wetting his lips and rocking a little on his knees. He gets hard, of course, and that reassures him into compliance.

For a little while anyways. Then he spits up saliva and Mikey's precome at him.

"Fuckin' nasty. Don't say anything." Mikey grimaces and pulls Frank up on the bed. He's not fooling Frank; Mikey is full and red and ready to go off if he had another minute in Frank's mouth.

"Aw man, you saying want me for my body and not my mind? It's cool, I know I'm hot stuff, no need for apologies," Frank needles, and Mikey digs his fingers under Frank's ribs, and Frank hoots while getting on his knees and propping his head on crossed arms.

He has no time to feel awkward or vulnerable, because Mikey's moved right up against him, covering him, dick burning the inside of Frank's thigh and hands resting on his ass. Frank sighs a little and opens his eyes to see Gerard.

And Gerard, Gerard is just staring, from his perfectly positioned seat on the side. Or more like, looking all intently and quirking up his lips in amusement. There's hasn't even been that much to stare at yet.

"What is this, are we waiting for the Mayday Parade? Fuck me, motherfucker."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Frank waits.

"That was a no, cocksucker." Frank can feel Mikey's smirk on the back of his neck. Frank cranes around to scowl.

"Jesus Christ, shut up Frank," Ray laughs and rolls his eyes.

"No! What the hell, I'm not just gonna-" and then Frank does shut up, because Mikey's tracing wet fingers around Frank's opening, and Frank's biting his arm as Mikey pushes them in. He breathes in and out, and in and out, and, "-yeah, I definitely fucked your great-aunt like this once. She squealed! It was adorable." Mikey twists his fingers and Frank hisses through his teeth.

"And then, one time at band camp, I took my flute and stuck it up my-" and Frank groans into his forearms when Mikey pushes in. Mikey rolls his hips up and up, and oh, oh yeah. Frank almost wants to watch it from the outside, it must look good, since it feels so good to get fucked so smoothly right from the start, right when he's almost too tight for it. It's a good burn though, Frank loves to feel it now and after. Mikey rocks into him, not all that slowly, and Frank bites his forearm instead of groaning, making himself relax into it in increments.

But he just tenses up all over again and has to cry out when Mikey adjusts himself enough to blow off sparks behind Frank's eyes. Frank pushes back when he can and spreads his knees, sliding, feeling the deep satisfying grind that's he still not quite ready for work its way up his spine. It surprises him. God, why doesn't Mikey fuck him more? He's fucking nice at it, dimpling Frank's hips nice and hard with his hands and cruising along with rolling thrusts. Frank could go for fucking ever like this and not get tired of it, burning up while Mikey just goes for it and doesn't wait for Frank at all. His stomach swoops at the thought and his dick jerks.

Just then Mikey tightens his grip more and hitches Frank up, speeding up. Frank groans at the sudden change of pace, the burn intensifying almost too much, too soon, and what, what?

Mikey jerks and his hips stutter, sharp hipbones slamming against Frank, and he's left with his heart pounding, ass aching, and feeling a little shaky. He feels like a small blush working its way over his chest, his dick is full and sticky, but all the same -Frank couldn't have come from that in a million years, not even with a reacharound. At least he got a couple bruises from it, surely.

He's still completely turned on and completely delighted though. Because he gets to whine now. "Get me off, motherfucker, I could barely even feel that! What was that, the shortest fuck ever? Didja need a pre-game performance to warm up?"

"That's what the blowjob was for," Mikey says, his voice as full and mellow as it gets when he's happy. He humps against Frank a little more and moans appreciatively before pulling out. Frank winces and starts to complain again.

"No. Shut up, you whiny midget," Bob calls from the bathroom. Mikey pants and wheezes, curling up against Ray on the other bed, looking all disheveled and flushed along the tops of his cheeks just like Gerard does. Bob comes out of the bathroom, pleasantly naked, and Frank looks back over his shoulder to leer appreciatively. He cracks his knuckles, all businesslike, and Frank totally has a his work cut out for him to make Bob lose his cool.

"You remember your word?" Bob asks, and oh fuck, seriously?

"Duh," Frank says. He doesn't say anything else.

"Frank," Bob admonishes severely, so Frank cuts him off, "-red, it's red, can we get on with it now, jesus I thought this was a gangbang," Frank mock-complains, and he sees Ray smack his palm into his forehead. Gerard is still staring intently at Frank, until someone behind Frank does something to make him grin and look down.

"Grab onto the headboard," Bob says.

"What? No. How uncomfortable," Frank sneers. He wrinkles his nose at Bob.

Bob sighs like he's actually surprised. "Whatever. Either you do it or I do it for you. Your choice."

"My hands are staying put." Frank primly folds his arms in front of him and rests his head on them instead.

"Stop that."

"Make me," Frank sing-songs, and yeah, hell yeah, Frank can already envision the making part of it. He suppresses a shiver.

Bob just grumbles. Frank hears plastic-and-wet sounds, and then Frank has to keep his cool when it's Bob teasing him. "I'm ready, what are you wasting your time for?" Frank huffs while Bob slowly works in a finger.

"For you, asshole," Bob says, but Frank's not laughing when Bob adds more lube and strokes him open with two fingers. Frank is relaxed enough, maybe, but not enough for Bob's liking apparently, and the difference is making Frank anxious. Bob gets too many ideas when he works things out slowly, and the brunt of them always seem to land on seeing how much Frank's nerves can take.

Frank hisses when Bob changes up the pace, first rubbing harder, then softer, and always not in quite the right place. Frank kicks a leg out and Bob jostles him back into place, grumbling. Frank does it again and Bob's fingers slip, rub hard over Frank's prostate and Frank rolls forward into his arms, pushing up into it.

Bob makes him settle down again and Frank mutters thickly, "God damn, you fuck your babysitter like this? I see why she left." Bob laughs all low and rich, and tingles shoot through when he starts brushing, very lightly, almost exactly where Frank wants him, but not quite.

It's not enough. Fucking torturer. Frank bucks up and Bob awkwardly pushes him back down again, so Frank just keeps pushing back into Bob's grip on his hip.

"Gerard, come over here," Bob says, and suddenly Frank can't push back, can't move at all. Gerard's locked his waist in a pretty firm grip.

He grumbles, "Traitor," but Gerard still isn't saying anything, is in fact weirdly quiet. Frank looks back at Gerard's face, just to check, to see, and he's - he's all pink and solemn and serious. Frank exhales and gulps back a wave of sizzling nerves.

Then Bob slowly drags a hot, wet hand against Frank's side, and curls up just right, exactly right, squarely hitting his prostate. Frank can't move, so he makes a soft noise instead. For once Bob is not steady, fingers sliding all around and deliberately not touching Frank how he wants after that. Gerard keeps him locked up tight, and Frank is breathing harder.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"No. Fuck off," Frank says, and oh fuck, it's hopeless, he's already getting quieter.

Bob glances around it again, and again, and Frank tries to squirm and make Bob touch him right, but Gerard's still holding him down, and Frank would be impressed that Gerard's that strong, but his head is getting muzzy and it's happening like it always does: he's zeroing in on all the little things, hot damp sheets, forehead wetting his arms, already too hot in just a t-shirt and the strengthening pulse in his dick forcing his attention.

Bob adds another finger and twists them, right on target. Frank seizes up, overwhelmed, then slowly relaxes. His mouth drops open. Bob does it again, and again, until Frank is twitching from it.

"Bob. Bob," Frank groans, but it's all breathy and muffled. He can barely even hear himself. He can't get enough air.

"You want me to fuck you?" Bob asks, and his fingers rub up, and heat ricochets up his spine and stiffens his dick, pearling out precome.

"No," he spits.

Bob does it again, and Frank arches up into it, clenching the moan between his teeth.

"Yeah," Frank pants. "Yeah yeah, Bob." All low in his chest, "Oh, please. Please fuck me." Frank hitches on the last word when Gerard lets go of his waist and Frank drops on the mattress, Bob pulling out his fingers. Frank aches with the loss.

"Frank. Put your hands on the headboard." Frank gasps and scrambles up, spreads his knees and holds the top of the headboard. This is actually really nice of Bob, he thinks wildly. He's not doubled over too far to make breathing or coming too difficult this time.

Bob settles himself against Frank, lifting and pushing inside all at once, and oh fuck, suddenly the position is a bad, bad thing. "B-Bob," Frank whispers hoarsely, grimacing through the first thrust, not in pain at all, exactly the opposite. Bob fingerfucked him so good and let him uncurl enough so he's gonna come right now, with Bob going hard and careful and setting a quick pace right from the start. "Bob, Bob, I'm gonna come."

"No you're not," Bob grits out. He angles forward and down, and Frank's body shoves back and up without his permission, screwing himself back into the whitehot blasts coursing through him. Bob curses under his breath and keeps going.

Frank's head lolls. He bites his tongue and makes pathetic wheezing noises and sounds out, "Please, please, please, Bob." Bob doesn't slow down, and he doesn't speed up, and Frank can't keep track of time since he's just bearing through waves and waves of tightening pleasure. Frank is ready to burst or short out and collapse. He can't hold it off any longer.

"Bob please, I can't, I can't," Frank babbles, sweat running into his eyes. They sting, so he closes them, thankful for small reprieves, so he doesn't see it when Bob reaches around to touch him.

Frank opens his eyes wide when Bob strips his cock, once, twice, and hacks out short, low whimpers in his chest through coming. It curls up through his belly and launches out of his chest, hurtling through him like he's got fucking whiplash. He vaguely comes down after feeling Bob still and come, and pulling out slowly and setting Frank aside. Frank hears his own hoarse, heaving moans and sinks down flat on the mattress, burning up.

Eventually Bob pokes him between his shoulderblades. "You alive?"

It takes Frank a minute to answer. "Jesus Christ, yes. God damn, Bryar," and yeah, Frank can be appreciative when he likes. Bob harrumphs.

"How're you feeling," Mikey asks, but Frank can read between the lines, or the eyebrows, and gives Mikey the finger.

"I feel like a fucking queen. Where're my crown jewels?"

"Coming right up," Mikey says, low and full of laughter. Huhn. Frank kinda stepped into that one. His brain still feels scrambled and the come-down floatiness is still hanging around.

"You want another?" Bob asks, and now Ray is poking him between the shoulders, and hoo boy, fuck. Fuck yes. In another minute. And maybe after a smoke. He says as much.

"I don't think this is a smoking room," Gerard says, speaking up for the first time, but he's not laughing, and his eyes are hot when he looks at Frank. Frank licks his lips. Gerard's gaze slides to the side and he flails around covering up the smoke alarm. He gets out three cigarettes and lights them before handing them over. Mikey makes a noise, so Gerard lights another and Bob passes it over. Frank burns through his the fastest and spends a few minutes rolling around current events in his brain, spinning his wheels, evaluating. Bob also wipes down Frank's back and ass, which is also very nice of him. Frank gets up slowly and carefully to help Mikey strip the bed's now-nasty comforter.

"You're sure?" Ray asks, helping Frank take off his shirt. And fuck, fuck, Frank can feel the pretty-damn-sureness emanating from somewhere in his guts but he couldn't give the reasons why. He just bats his eyes and smiles coyly. Ray kisses the top of his head and Frank grins for real this time.

There's lots of lube this time, so much lube. He could go skate in it practically, and Frank's brain is maybe going a little haywire with all the sensation, because there's sensitive-whee, and there's sensitive-ouch, and then there's sensitive-didn't-we-just-do-this?, which is the signal Frank's body is sending him. Ray is still Ray, but he's also been waiting for who the fuck knows how long, so Frank's still a bit surprised when he rolls facedown again and Ray just pushes one of Frank's legs up high and sinks in without anything else.

Ray of course is just enough from the fucking size of him. Frank drawls out a low, long, "ahhhh," like Ray's a deep drink of water, and he practically feels it all the way to his eyeballs when Ray bottoms out. Frank's pretty fucking relaxed by now, and he's not gonna come anytime soon, but he's still nice and full and that's a feeling to savor.

Ray is not impatient, and so Frank keeps himself curled up and down, rocking slowly, and sometimes moaning under his breath. Flares of pleasure string him up occasionally, making him feel overexposed and worn thin, and Ray whimpers when Frank tightens up in response. Frank feels a sloppy grin come over his face, so he clenches down sometimes just because. Ray catches on and pinches his side, and Frank almost giggles but can't quite manage it through a fumbling haze. He didn't know getting fucked so much after coming would feel this good. He guessed it might be, but guessing isn't knowing, and Frank sure as fuck knows it now, all Biblically even. Frank starts to laugh again but it comes out as an airy sigh since Ray's running the show.

Then Ray stops moving and pulls out, and that startles Frank. "Hey, come on," he whispers, but it comes out barely coherent, his mouth too loose and throat suddenly swollen. Ray encourages him onto his side with his hands.

Frank blinks at how heavy and uncoordinated his he is, too fucked out and spoiled, and it wakes him up a little. He can see Gerard's legs, Gerard's waist, Gerard's still-waiting hardon (ohgod, another) in front of him, and there're wet, sloppy mouth noises coming from behind him -what? Frank parts his legs, leaning forward, and Ray slides in again, holding him around the waist. Ray shifts, and Frank curves even further at the sensation, not quite fitting, so Ray backs off, giving Frank time to settle and process.

Bob and Mikey are, are they? Are they really? Frank can't see, and he'd almost be disappointed except that -Frank has an active imagination and there're enough sounds, and that -that's just hot.

Ray shifts again, and Frank grunts through the pleasurable burn, feeling his aching back and twinges in his ass. It should wake him up, but he feels more in a doze than before, filled with the soundtrack of lazy kisses and moans, sparking visions in his head, and lulled by the easy, luxurious fucking. Frank collects himself and pushes back, and heat uncoils and rolls through all his limbs.

"Oh holy hell, fucking hell, god," Frank gets out, in more heavy whispers. They push forward and back again, syncopated, a little faster, and his mouth drops open. "Why don't they say how good it is the third time around? Jesus, don't stop, fuck." He groans softly, all air passing over teeth and tongue. Ray holds fast with his hands, and Frank's going to have so many bruises, and his sight doubles for a second. He squints and keeps pushing back until it passes.

Frank opens his eyes to see Gerard's hand clenching hard on his knee. Frank's gaze meanders up, over Gerard's spiky fucking hair and his expression so focused with want, he could eat Frank up. All at once it closes over him, Gerard's gaze, the increasingly urgent moans, and Ray's impossibly large, hot hands all over his chest, Ray's large, hot self all over him. Frank gasps and suddenly can feel how hard he's gotten along the way.

"Oh god, Ray." Frank's voice cracks.

"You should beg him," Bob tells Frank, and Frank still can't see him, but Bob sounds used and sodden, like he gets when he's blown Frank for good behavior, and holy fuck. Frank shivers and pushes back harder, and Ray meets him. Ray sucks in a harsh breath.

"Please, Ray. Oh god, please more," Frank garbles out. Frank can hear himself. He sounds hoarse and pleading. His ears burn. He shoves his ass back and trembles. Ray pushes Frank half on his front for more leverage, and fucks him harder. Getting fucked through the bed, Frank thinks, but it's not funny, and he's burning up, aching and sweating and mumbling into the sheet. He grabs a pillow and stuffs his face in it to muffle himself, and he could almost come just from the sounds of Ray's labored breathing and their skin slapping together. Ray shudders and pounds into him, and Frank is throbbing all over. Ray stiffens and stills, then seems to smear all over Frank's back and thighs. Frank is trembling like crazy and pinned, skewered by Ray's body.

"Can't breathe," he gets out, and Ray groans and slides off, and then Frank can't even move, can't think, he's so heated up and empty, strung up tight and left to burn.

Breathing cracked and worn, and he needs. "Gerard," he wrenches out. Tears sting his eyes, he's so wrecked and crushed with how not-enough it is.

"I'm here, I'm here," Gerard says, and then he is. Hands on Frank's face and another tongue in Frank's mouth, and he's being turned over to his back. He can't stop grabbing at Gerard, his shoulders and his arms, legs snagging behind Gerard's knees.

"Alright, alright, it's alright," Gerard says, pulling away to pick up the bottle knocked to the floor. Franks comes with him, latched onto Gerard's body, hugging his stomach, touch-hungry and almost panicked. They nearly fall off the bed like that, but Gerard catches them and brings them back up.

"Calm down, I got you," Gerard says, knees spread, readying himself, condom wrapper between his teeth, and Frank can't let him go, can't stop, until he arches up into another touch, out of nowhere, Ray's fingers on his face and through his hair. Frank gasps and pushes into it, but Ray just pushed him back down to the bed again.

Gerard's waiting.

Frank pulls a leg to his chest. "Please," he begs, and Gerard's hot stare bears down on him. Gerard moves forward and pushes the other leg to Frank's chest and moves on top of him. Frank's heaving with tension and breath. Gerard's right there, right against him, and Frank's pinned again, waiting.

Gerard kisses him. Frank can't believe it; it's like fireworks and waterworks and getting everything he wanted being weighed down, held down and contained, and full of flesh and spit and heavy breathing, and then Gerard moves back and presses inside of him. Frank arches up and tries not to shout, can't help quietly babbling instead.

Gerard draws out and in, and curls Frank up in increments until it's just right, just enough, almost too much.

"God, please, please. Gerard, please," Frank begs. He can barely move, barely see, eyes welling up from sensation. Gerard touches a nerve, again and again, and Frank scrunches his face up against it, too overwhelmed. Frank makes small broken noises and Gerard just keeps moving, gently, but still pressing, insistent. Frank is, impossibly, still hard.

"Oh, please," he chokes out, and covers his face with his hands. He can't, he just can't take it, it's too overwhelming, all the sensation and feelings, Gerard so close to him and the guys just within reach, in the corner of his eye, Mikey and Ray cuddling together again and Bob smoking over them. Frank can't take it all in.

Gerard's hand are on Frank's hands, pulling them off his face, then holding them down on the bed and pressing their faces together cheek to cheek. Frank sputters, eyes rolling, Gerard's belly chafing his dick, and he still can't come. It's building like knots in a string and won't be hurried along, still going through the motions loop by loop.

Then Gerard jerks, draws back, and carefully pulls out of Frank's body. Frank tears up more at that, hips pistoning weakly, the loss too much after everything else. "Gerard," he cries.

"Shh, shh, it's alright," Gerard says. He puts a hand on himself and bites his lip, and then Gerard comes on Frank's belly and chest and dick, what, he can feel it hot and slick on him, and so fucking dirty he squirms in place. Gerard leans forward, chest still heaving, mouth open, and touches Frank then, grips him and jacks him off apace. Frank gurgles and twitches up, can barely direct his hand to crawl over Gerard's to hold the both of them. Gerard's moving quickly, panting against Frank's face, and he opens his mouth to bite at Frank's jaw. Frank grabs Gerard tighter, can feel his orgasm coming down to meet him as though from a long distance. Gerard squeezes and twists, and it thunders down on Frank. He comes in short spurts, torn apart and sundered from the hard, fierce bursts. He holds onto Gerard and shakes through it. Gerard stays on top of him, a welcome heavy weight, breathing hot into Frank's ear and cradling his skull.

Frank can make out Mikey saying, "Holy fuck." Bob goes, "Yeeeeeep," and then there are rustling sounds. Frank's eyes drop close after that and he doesn't open them again. His world rolls around under his eyelids as he gets shifted to lie on his stomach, then everything is still for a while.

"'m not movin'," Frank mumbles into the pillow.

The pillow that is Gerard's chest, apparently, since it rumbles and he hears Gerard's low, fucked-out voice through it. "We know. Say bye to Bob and Ray, they're going to the other room now."

Frank moans when they touch his head and back, and that's good enough before Gerard forces half a bottle of water down his throat and Frank passes out on top of him.

***

"We probably didn't even need to do it like that. It's like his thing with handcuffs," Mikey's soft voice filters through.

"Yeah, but it's the truth too." Gerard's voice comes out small, and something about the conspiratorial vibe is a complete giveaway. Frank fights himself out of sleep.

"You set me up!" Frank accuses, lying facedown on the bed. He opens one eye to see Gerard scrunching up his face, looking guilty as charged. "You set me up for a gangbang! Because you're a, a, uh. A teasing, tricking teaser!" Frank would be pissier, but he just woke up and can't feel his knees and his diaphragm still feels all sore and compressed. From all the heaving and flexing and moaning, he supposes. He'll be sorry when he wakes up enough to feel his ass.

Mikey offers him some ice cubes in an open palm. Frank cranes forward and sucks them up into his mouth, crunching. Gerard winces at the squeaky ice noises.

"Um, maybe a little reverse psychology." And then much lower. "I kind of still want all of you to fuck me though," he demurs, eyes cast sideways nervously, and huhn.

"All of us?" Mikey says, and Frank can imagine his expression. Gerard grumbles at him not to be gross.

"Huhn," Frank says. He sucks on the ice some more and rolls his wrists around on the sheets. Frank can't exactly call Gerard's initial idea a bad one. Gangbangs have been moved into the Awesome Box. "We're gonna need more lube."
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