A Bandom Kissing Meme.

[turps]

Yesterday was national kissing day, and I was talking about how it would have been a good excuse for a kiss meme, and how it seemed those kind of themed memes seemed to have died out a little.

Various people suggested I host one myself, and I figured why not? The worst that could happen is no one plays or comments and I end up with an empty post. Therefore....



Now, rules, and if I've missed something you think should be there or have been unclear just let me know.


All previous and current bandom bands and members are welcome.
All pairings are welcome. Threesomes, moresomes, bring them on. Gen is fine too, and if you want to do solo kisses somehow, I'd love to see how.
Any kinds of kisses go, on the hand, on the forehead, making out for hours, brotherly kisses, friendly kisses, the kind in the middle of hot, sweaty sex.

Leave a prompt with the kind of kiss you'd like to see. Either general ( I love kisses in the rain ) or specific ( I'd love to see Frank kiss Gabe and have to stand on a box to do so ) but remember don't get too detailed, try for a middle balance.
You can leave as many prompts as you want, but only one prompt per comment.
If you want to answer your own prompt, go for it. The more kisses the better.
Prompts can be filled more than once with either fic or art.
You can write/draw as little or as much as you like.
If you do write/draw please put a pairing and title in the subject line, that way I can link from the main post.
Please warn if needed.

Other than that, go for it. Prompt kisses, write kisses, draw kisses. *mwah*



(1)Gerard/Mikey -- Spot by akamine_chan
(2)Mikey/Ryan -- Cooking Class Verse by eledhwenlin
(3)Frank/Gerard -- First sober kiss by greedy_dancer
(4)Bob/Mikey -- Last Kiss by akamine_chan
(5)Dr Death Defying/Show Pony -- lazy morning by kopperblaze
(6)Frank/Mikey -- Reward by chalcopyrite
(7)Bob/Mikey -- A Little Patience by radioaches
(8)It's Never Enough -- Brendon/Spencer by knight_tracer
(9)Favorite Little Brother -- Mikey&Gerard akamine_chan
(10)Sub!Verse Late Nights -- Mikey/Ray by bebunny
(11)Korse/Fun Ghould -- Something gritty by tuesdaysgone
(12)High school sweethearts -- Brendon/Spencer by turps33
(13)No Big Deal Frank/Mikey by dear_monday
(14)With Your Mask On If You Have To Frank/Gerard by chalcopyrite
(15)Lipstick Kisses -- Frank/Gerard by lovebashed
(16)Practice Makes Perfect Gerard/Mikey by ladyfoxxx
(17)Killjoys from the POV of the kid by kopperblaze
(18)Killjoys Korse/Party Poison, first kiss by bebunny
(19)Painted Desert Serenade Party Poison/Jet Star by by chalcopyrite
(20)Playing Like I Know That Game -- Gerard/Patrick by creepylicious
(21)Mikey/Pete -- Not wanting to let go by ivesia19
(22)Dallon/Brendon -- dare by ivesia19
(23)Hello -- Gerard/Patrick by madambeetroot
(24)Gerard/Grant Morrison - a surprise (or two!) at Comic-Con by fleurdeliser and tuesdaysgone
(25)Bob/Mikey killjoys double dog dare by turps33
(26)Brendon/Frank -- stolen kisses during something actiony by delphinapterus
(27)Brendon/Ryan -- post split by ivesia19
(28)Gerard solo -- Sweet by jedusaur
(29)Frank/Mikey -- kissing in cold weather ( art fill ) by omens
(30)Ryan/Jon -- saying goodbye is hard to do by sailorstkwrning
(31)Keep Me Breathing -- Brendon/Gerard by creepylicious
(32)Gerard -- In the Mirror by undeny
(33)Faded -- Gerard&Mikey by romanticalgirl
(34)Like I'm Feeling You Gabe/William by romanticalgirl
(35)Summer For the Rest Of Us -- Gerard/Patrick by romanticalgirl
(36)A Better Offer -- Gerard/Frank/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(37)Hot For Teacher -- Gerard/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(38)Barter System -- Ray/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(39)The One Where Mikey Doesn't Kiss and Frank's Been Watching a Long Time -- Mikey/Frank by greenskribbles
(40)Approximate Sunlight -- Frank/Gerard by piratesunk
(41)Soundtrack of the Summer Frank/Gerard by piratesunk
(42)Remaking What Otherwise We Should Have Thrown Away -- Frank/Gerard by fabu
(43)Gabe/Patrick and Gabe/Pete -- He kissed a boy just to start shit. jedusaur
(44)This Is a Gift, It Comes With a Price -- Dr D/Show Pony by creepylicious
(45)Snake Vision -- Kobra Kid/Gabe by jedusaur
(46)All Ways -- Mikey/Franks by jedusaur
(47)A Blustery Night -- Brendon/Travie by dr_jasley
(48)Hazy Lazy Day -- Ray/Mikey by xoxxblitz7
(49)Welcome Home -- Gerard/Lindsey by turps33
(50)Love Droplets -- Gerard/Frank by xoxxblitz7
(51)Up For Air -- Patrick/Pete by jedusaur and verbyna
(52)See You -- Mikey/Brendon by bootson
(53)Staged -- Brendon/Spencer by bootson
(54)(How bad I want this) scandal; MCR: Frank/Mikey (+Gerard) by creepylicious
(55)Mikey/Ryan -- in a cage by slashxmistress
(56)Share Some Skin -- Gerard/Mikey by creepylicious
(57)Mikey/Gabe -- Projekt Gayhem 1/3 by jedusaur
(58)Skin -- Mikey/William by romanticalgirl
(59)Gerard/Lyn-Z - Take You In by romanticalgirl
(60)Pete/Mikey -- first time by romanticalgirl
(61)Awake With Sleepy Eyes -- Gerard/Gabe/Brendon by dr_jasley
(62)Take A Sad Song and Make It Better -- Brendon/Spencer by fabu
(63)And You're Overdue -- Brendon/Gabe/Gerard by creepylicious
(64)Gabe/Gerard -- the morning after the night before by delphinapterus
(65)We Kiss Like Painted Tigers -- Bert/Gerard by dear_monday
(66)Sink Right In -- Bob/Frank by desfinado
(67)Dem Dry Bones -- Gerard/Mikey -- desfinado
(68)Wish You Were Here -- Pete/William by romanticalgirl
(69)Bring 'Em Back Alive -- Kobra Kid/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(70)Worst Ever -- Mikey/Pete by desfinado
(71)Some Kind of Wonderful -- Pete/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(72)Gerard/Mikey, Frank/Ray - Love and Chainsaws by s0ckpupp3t
(73)Just a Shade of Green -- Frank/Brendon by dapatty
(74)On The Couch -- Mikey/Frank by s0ckpupp3t
(75)Brendon/Ryan by fannyt
(76)Familiarity Breeds Contempt -- Mikey/Pete/Alicia by romanticalgirl
(77)How They Fit -- MCR GSF -- by dapatty
(78)Hold On -- Pete/Travie by romanticalgirl
(79)William/Carden -- Airports by romanticalgirl
(80)Not Quite Paradise --Gerard/Gabe by romanticalgirl
(81)Patrick/Bebe -- More in common than just Pete by romanticalgirl
(82)Welcome to the Band, Dan/The Used -- by rokittomars
(83)Noises Off -- Mikey/Jepha by mtminded1
(84)Objects in the Mirror -- Gerard/Jamia by fabu
(85)Frank/Fun Ghoul by akamine_chan
(86)Frank/Ray - Late Nights Over Monroeville by delphinapterus
(87)Will Slowly Fade Away -- Gerard/Mikey by turps33
(88)In search of all things beautiful 1/2; Crossover - Frank/Gerard, Adam/Tommy by creepylicious
(89)If Wishes Were Horses -- Pete/Mikey by romanticalgirl
(90)CS GSF by rokittomars
(91)Anchored in That Old Time Rock'n'Roll by delphinapterus
(92)Worth the Wait -- Pete/Mikey by radioaches
(93)Diversion -- Mikey/Alicia by romanticalgirl
(94)The Warmth of Spring -- Brendon/Brent by dr_jasley
(95)This Is Not A Love Song -- Frank/Gerard by fabu
(96)Pedicone/Frank -- working out by romanticalgirl
(97)Mikey/Pete -- reunited by cold_clarity
(98)Luke and Leia -- Gerard/Mikey by s0ckpupp3t
(99) Mikey/Gabe -- drunken, sloppy make outs by romanticalgirl
(100) Bob/Ray --in the studio by syndelar
(101) Not Kissed Brendon/Spencer by eledhwenlin
(102)Brendon -- bouncy kisses by brandywine421
(103) Bebe/Gabe -- Gabe wooing by brandywine421

Comments

PATD, Brendon/anyone

[dr-jasley.livejournal.com]

*apparently I'm trying to pepper in more Brendon prompts:)*

Brendon/anyone spazzy, bouncy kisses

Re: PATD, Brendon/anyone

[brandywine421.livejournal.com]

AN: IDEK.

"Oh my God, Alex - fuck, Alex, you have to help me," Brendon called, skidding to a stop in front of him. "Kiss me - right now."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you talking about, Urie? You know I have a girlfriend."

"Doesn't matter," Brendon said, pulling him in by his arm and kissing him on the mouth.

"Five seconds minimum per kiss, Brendon, don't forget!" a voice called from down the hall.

Brendon pulled away, flushed. "Thanks, will you sign my card?"

Alex was still stunned by the slightly cherry aftertaste but took the index card and studied it.

"Dude, I have to get six more kisses before I make goal, just sign it," Brendon said, bouncing on his heels and holding out a sharpie.

"Do I want to know what this is for?" Alex asked, signing Suaresy with a flourish under Victoria's name.

"Probably not, but thank you for your lips. Gotta go," Brendon said, taking the card back and scrawling a check mark on his wrist before darting through the exit.

"Weird," he muttered.

"Suarez, hey, wait up - I need you!" Nate almost knocked him down in his rush.

"God, what now?" Alex asked, scrubbing at the mark on his wrist.

"Fuck, Urie got you already? I'm going to kill him," Nate hissed, rushing out of the building.

Gabe and Ryland appeared with pleased grins on their faces. "Did you guys have something to do with this?" he asked, holding up his wrist.

"Of course not," Gabe said. Ryland snorted.

"Seriously. Are they spreading mono? Surely you two haven't sank low enough to bring biological warfare into this," Alex said.

Ryland patted him on the back. "Don't worry. It's just a friendly wager."

The door slammed open again and Brendon rushed in and nudged Alex aside, hopping to stand on the toes of Ryland's shoes before marking a huge checkmark on his cheek and kissing him backwards a step. "Foul!" Gabe protested through his laughter.

Brendon didn't react and moved quickly to peck Gabe on the mouth and draw a check on his face.

"What the fuck, guys?" Alex asked.

"I win," Brendon said, shoving the card at Gabe triumphantly. "Also, you should probably call an ambulance because Nate just got punched in the face outside. But I still win."

CS, Gabe/anyone

[chalcopyrite.livejournal.com]

He kissed a boy just to start shit.

Gabe/Patrick & Gabe/Pete -- Just To Fuck Shit Up

[jedusaur]

Pete is straight, of course, but Patrick is actually straight, which would make him less fun to toy with if Pete didn't treat him like his emotional property. Gabe noses against Patrick's collarbone, grinning at the uncomfortable shifting he can hear from where Pete is sitting a few feet away. Patrick huffs out an annoyed breath and cranes his neck around Gabe's 'fro so he can see his laptop screen.

They're sitting in between buses, waiting. The vast majority of tour life consists of waiting, interspersed with a few hours of frantic motion, then more half-days of nothing. Patrick is using this time to do something extremely important, apparently. "Knock it off, Gabe," he says impatiently. Gabe nibbles his ear in response.

"He said knock it off," snaps Pete.

Gabe lifts his head, grins directly into Pete's gaze, and smacks a big long wet one right on Patrick's lips. Patrick splutters against him hilariously, and even though Gabe is braced for it, the punch knocks their lips apart.

"Jesus Christ," says Patrick. "Leave it, Pete, he's just baiting you."

It's true, Gabe is, but Pete has never been one to let his awareness of his own shortcomings keep them from functioning. He tackles Gabe, fists flying. There, finally, something interesting. Gabe rolls away from Patrick to avoid accidentally hitting him, because Pete would get seriously pissed if Patrick got hurt. It's not about Patrick, anyway.

Pete's aiming for Gabe's sensitive areas, and when their tussling turns into wrestling, Gabe can feel that he's hard. He always gets hard when they fight. Gabe is, too. He doesn't usually get aroused from brawling with his friends, but he does with Pete, because he never knows if this is going to be the time that Pete gives in, lets himself stop throwing punches and start rubbing off frantically like he so obviously wants to.

Pete knees Gabe in the stomach, and Gabe can tell the moment he feels Gabe's hard-on against his shin. He jumps up, backs away a few steps. "Leave Patrick the fuck alone," he says nervously and disappears onto his bus.

Not this time, then. Maybe Gabe needs a plan of attack that doesn't involve the presence of a real straight boy.

Crossover Kobra Kid/Gabe

[turps33.livejournal.com]

It can be killjoys verse only or a crossover. I just want those two to meet.

Kobra Kid/Gabe -- Snake Vision

[jedusaur]

It's hard to believe that the desert will get cold in a few hours, but Gabe believes it. He knows better than to go off soul-searching by himself without checking the Wikipedia page on deserts first. He's not, like, stupid. So he gathers up some wood and sits there with his lighter, trying to get it to catch. It's really not working.

"Need some help there?"

Gabe looks up to see a guy standing there, hip cocked. He's dressed in a manner of which Gabe approves fully: black skinny jeans, a yellow tiger-striped shirt, and a red jacket, with a strangely decorated motorcycle helmet under his arm. There's no motorcycle in sight. His hair is bleached and styled like someone tried to slick it back with dust, and his face is friendly in an expressionless sort of way.

"Sure," Gabe says. "You know how to start a fire?"

The guy draws something off his hip that looks a hell of a lot like a gun. Gabe raises his eyebrows, then scrambles back in a panic when the guy starts shooting fucking lasers or some shit at his sad little pile of twigs. "What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?" Gabe demands.

The guy scoots one of the bigger pieces of wood toward the tiny flame and sits cross-legged on the other side of it. "You can call me Kobra," he says, and twirls the gun in his fingers.

***

"I just need a goal," says Gabe. "I'm awesome at getting shit done when I know what I'm doing it for, but if I don't have a plan, I'm the laziest bastard on earth. I need some kind of purpose."

Wikipedia has proven itself wise. The desert is fucking freezing at night. Gabe and Kobra are sitting next to each other now, pressed up arm to arm and hip to hip, sharing body heat and leaning toward the little fire. It would probably go out if Gabe went to sleep, but sleep was never part of the plan for this trip.

"What's important to you?" asks Kobra, and well, that's the question, isn't it? Gabe shrugs, feeling Kobra's jacket rub against his shoulder as he does.

"Music. I want to do something with music. And... I don't know, getting people to stop letting their cynicism dictate their lives. I guess that's kind of lofty."

Kobra puts a hand on Gabe's knee gently. "If you didn't want lofty, you wouldn't be on a fucking spirit quest."

This is a point.

"The world sucks," murmurs Kobra, and his face is close to Gabe's. "It's easy to give up, once you have that realization. Because it's not going to change, not really, not on a massive enough scale to really mean anything. The world is always going to suck. We can't really do anything about that. But that doesn't mean we have to be miserable. We can party through the apocalypse without a reason."

"That is a reason," whispers Gabe. "Fuck yeah, partying through the apocalypse. Living in the... fuck." He touches Kobra's face, and then they're kissing, cold from the desert air but hot from the friction of their tongues.

***

Sleeping wasn't part of Gabe's plan, but plans aren't worth shit at the end of the world, and when he wakes up Kobra is gone.

He staggers back to civilization in a daze, and when people ask him what he saw in the desert, he tells them.

***

Further Kobra Kid/Gabe reading: here and here.

CS/MCR Gabe/Gerard

[turlough]

You followed our advice I see, excellent! :-)

The morning after the night before

Re: CS/MCR Gabe/Gerard

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

The slam of a door wakes Gabe long before his phone alarm is set to wake him. The room is as dark as hotel rooms ever get with the streetlights filtering through the edges of the curtains to cast everything in deep shadows. It's a problem with every hotel room he's ever slept in and even in one as nice as Gerard's the curtains aren't the powerful blackout curtains Gabe knows are the only answer to a truly dark room. In the hall, he can hear the quick thump of footsteps disappearing down the corridor toward the bank of elevators. He stares into the gloom at the silhouette of the pile of comics on the desk sitting next to the Spaceboy statuette that Gerard had raved to him about for a solid hour. Gabe knows all about the fan who gave it to Gerard (dressed as a Terminaut for the Con) and how Gerard is planning to move his Eisners to make a place for it. Gabe has friends who've won Grammys, can name-drop designers and have it mean more than "we met at a party", and yet Gerard's casual use of "my Eisners" makes him feel weird. Beside him, Gerard snuffles in his sleep and flings his arm out so his hand smacks against Gabe's chest right on the bruise that his teeth had put there hours earlier.

By rights Gabe shouldn't have even been at the Con. He should have been on the other side of the country with his band prepping for their first show on the new tour but Pete had called. He'd bullied and cajoled until Gabe agreed to clandestinely show up to support Mikey because Mikey was doing his first solo panel for his comic. He'd known for months that Mikey was following in his big brother's footsteps yet again but until Pete's last-minute call he hadn't realized how nervous Mikey was. It made him feel guilty. He had been late enough that he'd had to sneak into the back of the room to stand next to Gerard and his bodyguard who were both trying their best not to attract attention. He'd been surprised by how pleased Gerard had looked to see him.

Even though he's known both Ways for years, Gabe had still be surprised when Gerard had flirted and teased in-between reassuring Mikey again and again "you were fucking awesome Mikes." Mikey had been too busy to catch Gerard out which had made Gabe feel freer to respond in kind once he realized what Gerard was doing. Pete had noticed but he'd only leered a little bit before returning to fussing over Mikey in his own weird way. It had seemed only natural to follow through when Gerard had invited him up and a much better way to kill time before his flight than his original plan.

Gerard rolls onto his side and pulls most of the covers underneath himself leaving Gabe with only the sheet. He eases his shin away from were Gerard has his foot hooked over it at what Gabe thinks would be a truly uncomfortable angle if Gerard was conscious of it, and slides out of bed. The gloom in the room is slowly lightening. In the glow of his phone he gathers up his clothes and the slim carryon he flew out with before he retreats to the bathroom to dress and tame his appearance. The bruise Gerard left on his chest looks darker than he expected in the mirror and he touches it with one finger, pressing gently to assess just how long he'll be feeling Gerard's mark on his skin.

When he emerges from the bathroom Gerard has moved so he's sprawled across the bed taking up more room than should be possible. The blankets are twisted around him and one foot is sticking out. The clock is telling him that his phone should be ringing within the next five minutes. Gabe crosses quietly over to the bed and looks at Gerard's face. It's been Gabe's experience that everyone looks younger when they sleep but even with the deep shadows hidden parts of his face Gerard has the same fresh-faced look he does when he's awake. Gabe bends down and places a gentle kiss on Gerard's lips, the opposite of the ones they traded while they were wake. He wonders what it would be like to kiss Gerard like that if he was awake. Would he like it or would he turn it back to the frantic deep kisses they'd shared before? It was only a one-time thing after all. Gerard's mouth falls open a little and Gabe turns away. He has a plane to catch.

Crossover Gerard/Grant Morrison

[turlough]

A suprise at Comic Con.

Re: Crossover Gerard/Grant Morrison - a surprise (or two!) at Comic-Con

[tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com]

Grant strolls through the crowded lobby of the convention center. He's being trailed by several polo-shirted minders and he knows some functionary upstairs in the VIP rooms is probably having a minor heart attack right about now, but he's on a mission. He heads for the Starbucks stand, and by the time he gets there one of the polo shirts has made the line part like the Red Sea. It's the kind of thing that happens, these days, and he won't say he minds, exactly, but he makes sure to stop and say hello to the owners of several outstretched hands in the line. The actual coffee ordering takes the least time of all, but he pays careful attention that the construction of the drink is exactly to specifications. It's not for him, after all. It's a surprise, and surprises should always be pleasant.

He's probably more careful than is strictly necessary walking back toward the greenroom. He asked the barista to put one of the green stoppers in the lid, but there are a lot of people around, and despite the minders, bumping into someone is not outside the realm of possibilities. Grant quite likes his suit and he doesn't particularly want it soaked in coffee. Or for the surprise to be ruined.

Finally, they're away from the roiling masses of people and into the quieter areas of the convention center. The steady roar of the crowds fades into a hum punctuated by various people of various amounts of import chatting or laughing.

He was right about the possible cardiac irregularities he was causing, it seems; there's a young woman with a staff name badge hovering by a half-open door, and when she sees him she loses about five years of stress from her expression. "Mr. Morrison! You have a few minutes, Mr. Way just arrived, would you like - oh. I see you have coffee."

"I'll just wait a few minutes and help myself to some water," he squints at her name badge, "- Sharon. This isn't for me." She holds
the door open for him and when he walks through he can see Gerard, sunglasses shoved up into his messy hair, slouched in the
corner talking to Scott Allie, who's acting as their moderator today. Mehdi, Gerard's ever-present security, is in the other corner talking
quietly on a cell phone.

Gerard looks up at the sound of the door closing. Grant was right; he does look tired, slight smudges under his eyes. He looks, in fact,
like he'd prefer to still be wearing his sunglasses, perhaps napping on one of the couches, but he smiles instantly, brightly, when he sees Grant. "Grant, you made it!"

MCR/FOB Gerard/Patrick

[turlough]

First kiss at Warped 2005.

Playing like I know that game; Gerard/Patrick

[creepylicious.livejournal.com]

Patrick wonders what Gerard's hair would feel like now. Dyed in blood red and maybe brittle to the touch. He wonders how the bone of Gerard's jaw would feel like in his palm now that they're both so much less fleshy, somehow. He is sure he could still feel Gerard's lashes brushing against his cheek if he would lean in - and it would be the same, but different.
Sometimes he can still taste Gerard on his lips, in his mouth. The memory assaulting him, haunting him like an unfinished piece of music. Stuck in his head for years and waiting for the right moment. Patrick knows there won't be a right moment.
There wasn't ever one, but that doesn't mean they didn't have one.
One imperfectly perfect moment in time that will always smell like cigarettes, summer heat, asphalt, sweat and gas.
That will taste like smoke and soda and pencil, because Gerard always used to chew on them when he was thinking hard - he probably still does it. (He heard that later from Andy).
A kiss that felt like having everything in one second and having it ripped away in the next.
Patrick remembers the feel of Gerard's lips, soft and hesitant and chapped, before Gerard's hand curled around Patrick's hip, his fingers digging in a bit too hard, his other hand on the warm metal of a bus. Patrick remembers the curve of Gerard's jaw perfect under his palm, how it just fitted right. He committed Gerard's soft gasp to memory as he bit Gerard's lip only to see what it would do to Gerard, the jerk of Gerard's fingers on his hip as he licked the sting away.
He remembers that he wasn't thinking anything at all as they started this, but when it was over he knew it was something. Something bigger, something he shouldn't have done, because it would haunt him. Gerard kissed his neck and Patrick closed his eyes against the glaring sun, counted Gerard's pants against his skin silently (seven: three short, one sigh, three a bit longer). When Gerard leaned away, Patrick grabbed a handful of his unwashed, slightly damp hair (it was so fucking hot on that day that this whole thing had the quality of a heat-dream, a hallucination anyway) and made Gerard look at him. He wanted to kiss Gerard again - maybe. Gerard licked his lips and stared back. Silently. The heat made them lazy, made Patrick's brain hazy, but maybe that was the way Gerard looked at him. Patrick brushed his thumb against Gerard's lip and new it wouldn't feel the same and one taste was bad enough anyway. Gerard waited him out. Patrick closed his eyes and let go. The fabric of Gerard's shirt slipping through his fingers.
Sometimes when he hears Gerard's voice on the radio he wonders.

~end~

Killjoys Jet Star/Party Poison

[turlough]

Sunset in the desert.

Painted Desert Serenade, Jet Star/Party Poison

[chalcopyrite.livejournal.com]

The sky goes wild as the sun goes down, crazy technicolour that he wouldn't believe was real if he hadn't seen it night after night. It makes him wish for heavy paper, oil pastels and thick acrylic paint, luxuries he hasn't had since he had a life that could afford luxuries. It's not that any of them minds going to the red markets for things that are illegal in the black-and-white world, but things that aren't necessary for survival -- well, everyone learned to leave them behind a while ago.

Jet Star explained it once, the dust in the atmosphere, the particles of acid rain, hanging there to filter sunlight and paint the world. He said it was hard to capture -- film gets overexposed, and digital never quite got the richness of the colour, and tweaking it afterwards just made it look fake, because nothing like that could be real.

That was only once, though. Film is another luxury, another thing to slow you down, like names. So they just sit on a ridge of rock, some nights when it's still and clear and the waves are quiet, and watch the sun go down. It's the recording they can do, now.

Party Poison leans sideways, into Jet Star's warmth. It gets cold in the zones with night coming on, boiling to deep-freeze in minutes, it sometimes seems like. He feels like a lizard, growing sluggish in the cold. Jet Star wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer in, warm even through his heavy jacket. It's what they do.

The sky starts shading into the deep purple of night, and Party beaces himself to get up, to go back to their hidey-hole and get on with things. Movement is life, and art may be the weapon but these days it's mostly in his head. But Jet Star's arm tightens, holding him in place. He feels stubble and the brush of lips against his temple, just over the groove his mask strap has worn into his face.

"Thanks," Jet Star says, as quiet as the sky, as the stretch of dry sand in front of them. Then he lets go. Party Poison stands up and stretches out the kinks from sitting on rock, turns back to offer Jet Star a hand up. He searches for words -- he's out of ideas right now. Finally he settles on, "You too," and starts picking his way down the sharp slope of the outcrop. He can hear Jet Star behind him; they'll be back at the diner before it's dark.

You travel light; you get by.


(Sorry, this got more melancholy than I intended!)

Killjoys Korse/Party Poison

[turlough]

Their first kiss.

Re: Killjoys Korse/Party Poison

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

They've been arguing a little over an hour. The room is so fucking bright and Poison's eyes hurt like a motherfucker.

He can't see a way out of this, there's no way in neon hell he's gonna give up everything that Korse is demanding, and they'll have to drag the co-ords out of his twitching brain if they want the bunker. It's not gonna happen.

For all his slamming of chairs and spluttering Korse is pretty patient. Perhaps patient isn't the right word, persistent. Poison watched a scorpion once slide into a small sinkhole out in the sands. the sides were steep, but the thing kept trying to get a run up at the sides only to endlessly slide back down again. There was no way he was gonna put his hand in there to scoop it out, he'd have been dead. Korse was starting to remind Poison all too much of that scorpion.

Korse was crowding up into his space again, making Poison turn his head to avoid too much eye contact. It was a game, an eternal balshy fucking chess match. It went the same way every time they met, but Korse never played his hand.

"If not your brother, what about the others?" Korse was saying, for the millionth fucking time, stuck record, it woulda made Dr D wince.
"I'm not gonna do that either." Poison spit back.
"Must be lonely out there," Korse sneered, the edge of...something else...colouring his voice. "I bet you just want someone around to keep your bed warm."
"It's not like that and you know it." Poison knew he was just reaching for straws now, idly he wondered if BL/ind allowed their employees to have friends.
Korse was in front of him before he knew what had happened. He was being bodily lifted by the front of his jacket almost out of the seat. Korse's mouth covering his, invasive, insistent.
"Thought so." Korse hissed as he dropped Poison back onto the polypropene seat, stunned. He stormed out, slamming the reinforced door behind him. Leaving Poison alone under the lights.

"Is that what this is really about for you?!" Poison screamed at the surveillance camera over the door, "Jealousy!?" the led on the camera blinked calmly, regularly, his only response.

MCR, Gerard solo (or paired with anyone)

[were_duck (from livejournal.com)]

Gerard, first time wearing makeup!

Gerard solo -- Sweet

[jedusaur]

"Don't get strung out by the way I look," Gerard sings to himself, because if anyone walks in on him, there's no better excuse than Tim Curry. He pops the cap off the lipstick tube, one of the ancient worn-down ones his mom clearly hasn't touched in years. He doesn't think she would have noticed anyway, and if she did she probably wouldn't care, but... it's not about shame, or the consequences of anyone else knowing. It's just that Gerard wants this to himself.

He doesn't get many things to himself. His art is the closest thing to privacy he has, and even that isn't really all his. People know it's there, even when he won't let them see it. Gerard coats his lips carefully with color, respecting the edges of his face, filling his skin like he fills lines on the page. With this, no one knows to ask.

If they did, he thinks, looking at himself in the mirror, he might show them. Maybe. Depending on who it was.

"Just a sweet transvestite," he sings under his breath as he closes the tube and picks up an eyeliner pencil. He's not good at things getting near his eyes, and he keeps cringing away from his own touch, but eventually he manages to edge his eyelids in dark brown without stabbing himself. The mascara is next, and whoa, that really makes a difference. He never really noticed his eyelashes before now, never looked at them. The way they stand out lets him think the word "pretty" for the first time.

The blush is last. He thinks he heard somewhere that it's supposed to go on first, but if there's anything this isn't about, it's how things are supposed to work.

Gerard leans forward onto his elbows and stares into the mirror. He wants to look at the makeup, but all he can focus on is his own eyes, brave and proud. He looks different, not because of what's on his skin, but because of what's changing under it. By doing this, he's becoming a person who can do it, and that's fucking inspiring.

"I see you shiver with antici..." he sings quietly to his reflection, and pauses. Tilts forward. His breath fogs up the mirror a little, and he closes his mouth and breathes through his nose until it evaporates, leaving the glass clear and smooth. Gerard stretches his neck just a little and presses his lips against the mirror, quickly, suddenly.

For luck, he thinks, looking fondly into his own eyes.

MCR, Show Pony/Kobra Kid

[kopperblaze.livejournal.com]

nights in the desert are lonely

Panic Brendon/Dallon

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

Height differential


you know it's hot.

Panic, Brendon/Ryan

[ivesia19.livejournal.com]

Something set in the present time.
Something desperate.
Please!

[omens.livejournal.com]

Brendon/Spencer, accidental kiss

Not Kissed #1

[eledhwenlin]

I hope you'll like this. <3

***

The thing is, Brendon doesn't plan it. It's not planned at all, which is so not like how Brendon saw this going down. Ever. Brendon has, okay, he's thought a lot about this, how it could happen. In his mind, there's always this moment when something changes. Something magical and big, and then Spencer would be looking at Brendon and see and Brendon would be looking at Spencer, too, and let him see, and then they both would move and then they'd kiss. Or Spencer would let Brendon see, would let Brendon catch him checking Brendon out. Or something.

The point is there should be something. A huge big moment when everything changes. Not ... this, whatever this is. This is Brendon standing in the kitchen area, angling for a cup, and Spencer coming up behind Brendon quiet like a mouse. Spencer's reaching for the Poptarts, and then they're both turning and suddenly, somehow, Brendon's lips brush Spencer's mouth and his cheek. It doesn't even register at first, but then Ian whoops and Dallon catcalls. Spencer laughs nervously, and Brendon finds himself giggling.

"Morning, sweetiepea," Spencer says, "do you want a Poptart?"

"Yeah," Brendon says and that's it. They finish getting breakfast and then they watch Zoolander for what is probably the thousandth time and everything goes back to normal. For Spencer, at least because he behaves normally and seems to actually forget about it entirely.

Brendon wishes he could do that, but ... he can't stop thinking about it. It's just--that was their first kiss and it was an accident and nothing came of it and Brendon's really fucking disappointed. He's trying not to let it show. He doesn't think he's particularly successful at it.

The next hotel night Brendon ends up with Spencer. That would be clue 1 because Brendon is sure it's Ian's turn. He puts his bag on the hotel bed next to the window. "First shower," he says, tries to make a joke of it, but Brendon doesn't want to be alone in a room with Spencer right now. He's afraid everything would just come spilling out of him if Spencer looks at him the right way.

"Okay," Spencer says. "Ian mentioned this awesome bar he knows nearby, wanna come with later?"

Ian didn't mention that bar to Brendon. Even though Brendon had talked to Ian about going out later, and Ian had made vague noises about maybe staying in that night. It doesn't make Brendon feel any better.

"No, I guess I'll have an early night." Brendon fakes a smile. "I want to take advantage of having an actual bed with a frame for once."

"Sure," Spencer says. He seems a bit subdued.

"Hey, do you want to have first shower then?"

Spencer contemplates that. "If you don't mind." He's not looking at Brendon, and Brendon wants to kick himself. And Spencer. It's not Spencer's fault, but he's this weird kind of upset with Spencer for fucking up all of Brendon's perfect fantasies.

"No, just go ahead."

Spencer nods tersely. When he's closed the bathroom door behind himself, Brendon collapses on the bed and groans. For something that's technically something, their "kiss" has fucked them up good. Brendon thinks he just needs to get a grip on himself. He needs to put his head back on straight and move the fuck on. It obviously didn't mean anything to anyone but Brendon, so he should just let go. Yep. He's getting on that first thing after Spencer's gone.

By the time Spencer's finished Brendon's fallen asleep on his bed. He wakes up slowly to Spencer carefully shaking him. "Hey, I'm going," Spencer says. "If anything, if you, I have my cell phone with me, okay?"

Brendon nods. "Sure, but I'm fine," he says.

"Yeah." Spencer doesn't look like he's believing Brendon one bit. "I'll see you later."

"Later," Brendon says. The hotel room seems strangely empty after Spencer's gone. Right, moving on now.

[omens.livejournal.com]

Brendon/Spencer, competitive kissing

[omens.livejournal.com]

Brendon/Spencer, pretend (or imaginary) kisses

Staged - Brendon/Spencer

[bootson.livejournal.com]

Spencer sort of lived for the moments where Brendon would push close, those moments when Brendon took over his space and leaned in until Spencer felt the body heat radiating. In those moments, they always shared breath for a few seconds, long enough to have Spencer swaying closer as Brendon’s hands came up. Brendon always, always slid a hand into Spencer’s hair while Spencer gripped Brendon’s hip. Each time, Spencer held on a little tighter, his grasp a little too telling. Then, every fucking time, Brendon’s hand always came up, his sweaty fingers covering Spencer’s lips so Brendon kissed the back of his own hand in the type of stage kiss any drama kid would envy.

They had it down to a science, a party trick they’d picked up in high school to get the attention of girls who liked that whole emo boys kissing scene for some reason. Now they only brought it out at random to get a rise out of people. Mostly, it just drove Spencer crazy.

Dallon was laughing, saying something that sounded like a dare; Spencer was a little too drunk to actually parse out the words. Ian was egging Dallon on because that’s just what Ian did, nothing to be concerned about. Then Brendon slid onto Spencer’s lap, knees bracketing Spencer’s thighs.

Brendon was heavier than usual, not holding himself as far away. He settled and Spencer gazed up at him when Brendon’s hand slipped into his hair. Spencer liked Brendon like this: flushed and content, a little fuzzy around the edges.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, proud he only slurred a tiny bit.

“Kissing you,” Brendon nodded, decisive.

“Liar,” Spencer whispered. His arms were somehow around Brendon, pulling their bodies even closer together. “You never do.”

“I do all the time,” he promised but Spencer just shook his head.

When Brendon’s other hand came up to stroke along his jawline, Spencer let his eye close. He went with the feeling. The warm puffs of breath against his lips, the way Brendon smelled of deodorant and faintly sweat. Brendon’s hand moved, closer to Spencer’s lips and Spencer reached for his elbow, not really holding him back but not really encouraging.

When there was finally a pressure against his lips, Spencer wasn’t very coherent. He couldn’t work out if it was Brendon’s fingers, like always, or his lips, like Spencer wanted. It was easier to go with whichever answer was most convenient.

[omens.livejournal.com]

Gabe/Pete, sleeping beauty kiss

[omens.livejournal.com]

Dan Whitesides/rest of the used, hazing kisses

Fill: Dan/The Used "Welcome to the Band Dan"

[rokittomars.livejournal.com]

Unsurprisingly, Bert gets to him first.

Dan knew that touring with this band was going to be a giant mindfuck of awesomegrossdrummingweirdamazing but the whole...hazing thing, because really, that's all he can call it, is bizarre, mildly disgusting, and...well, kind of awesome. Pretty much everything he came to expect with the Used.

---

With Bert's, he hadn't known. It had just seemed like the kind of thing Bert McCracken would do. Which, you know, it really was. So, the flying tackle outside their (and Dan finds the fact that he can refer to it as part of something his, undeniably awesome) tour bus which had resulted in Dan flat on his ass with Bert's giant fucking tongue in his mouth wasn't really that unexpected.

"HI!" Bert screams in his face, once he disengages from Dan with a slobbery popping noise.

"Good to see you too," Dan laughs and pushes Bert off of him, the latter still giggling like a loon. He eyes Quinn and Jepha warily. Quinn grins at him, wincing when the Bert monkey clambers up his back with a stray knee in his ribs. Jepha just smiles quietly, watching it all with an air of amusement and resignation.

So, Bert's was, for all purposes, rather normal.

---

Quinn's was a sneak attack right before a show. They had been about week in the tour, still high on the moving and playing and fans. Dan had been warming up, running through rudiments and basic beats, combinations to get his wrists moving.

"Hey," Quinn sidled up beside him, guitar already strapped on, forming random chords on the muted strings. The entire green room stank of something burned and metal after Bert had "experimented" with the microwave that Dan was almost positive the venue was never offering artists again.

"S'happening, Quinnilius?" Dan grinned at him, big and goofy and excited, adrenaline working up in his veins, ready to just go and hit something.

Which nearly happened when dry lips pressed up against his grin and he early lost one of his sticks in surprise. Quinn was gone in a flash, over on the other side of the room before Dan could breathe in properly, laughing with a wayward tech. Dan shook his head and reaffirmed his grip on the sticks and went right on warming up.

---

So, he had figured it out. There was a hazing thing happening. Except instead of creepy boys in prep schools beating each other with soap bars in socks, Dan was instead assaulted with his bands' mouths. Which you know, there were definitely worse things. Especially considering Jepha had yet to go, and Dan had maybe been wondering what his labrets might feel like.

---

Jepha eventually caught him in the bunks. Not exactly, in bunk, which, you know, Dan totally had not been thinking about since the one show where Quinn insisted Jepha prance around stage shirtless. Anyway, he was in the hall between the bunks when he was "caught". (Or laying ambush. He likes to keep his stories interesting.)

"Jepharee-mo-dee!" Dan exclaimed, when he wandered in, "Are you going to molest me?"

Jepha laughed at Dan's faux-concerned face, then adopted a thoughtful look, "Depends, are you going to report me?"

"ALWAYS REPORT MOLESTATIONS DAN!" Bert's voice filtered in from the lounge area.

"That's not what you told me dickwad!" Quinn exclaims before the distinct sound of Bert tackling Quinn to the ground follows.

Jepha's all out giggling know, his labrets wonky from smiling too hard, and Dan can't help leaning down for a taste. Jepha's kiss is sweet, almost chaste, and Dan cups a hand around his jaw to keep him there, eliciting a shiver from Jepha.

"I HEAR KISSING!" Bert yells, "WELCOME TO THE BAND DAN!"

[omens.livejournal.com]

Patrick/Vicky-t kisses? Because that would be awesome. Goofy happy kisses.

Panic. Brendon/Ryan

[kaytvengeance.livejournal.com]

Any kind of kissing, but I'd like it post-split. Is it angsty, or better now there's no band strain to go with it?

Fill: Panic. Brendon/Ryan

[ivesia19.livejournal.com]

Ryan didn't mean for this to happen. It was just supposed to be a couple of hours, maybe some booze, but he hadn't thought about tasting the cool beer on Brendon's tongue when he had come over.

At least, that's what Ryan pants as he breaks away from Brendon's mouth - that mouth that is so familiar that it almost aches that it's been years since he had last had Brendon like this. Brendon's eyes are blown and wide, his hair is already messy from Ryan's long fingers, and fuck, maybe Ryan did have this in mind when Brendon had called. Maybe he's been wanting this since it last happened.

He doesn't know why they ever stopped this.

Ryan kisses Brendon again, presses him down on the couch that Ryan's never seen in a living room that he's never been in before. So much has changed, but this hasn't. Brendon still arches up into Ryan as they kiss. He still kisses that much hungrier when Ryan tugs on his hair. He still feels like the he's the only thing that has ever made sense.

And it's terrifying, knowing that this could be it - that heated kisses on a stupid expensive-ass couch could be the last time that Ryan ever gets to touch Brendon. Ever gets to see him.

Ryan could fuck this up. It's likely that he will. He knows that they should talk about this, figure it out together, but Ryan's always been selfish, so he doesn't say anything. And he only pulls back far enough to get his hands down between them, fingers playing at the button to Brendon's jeans.

Frank/Gerard

[lovebashed.livejournal.com]

Summer tour, sitting out in the parking lot somewhere at night, smoking and talking and kissing of course!

Soundtrack of the summer ( Part 1) - Frank/Gerard

[piratesunk.livejournal.com]

It's almost pitch black and the song of the cicadas is the only thing they can hear. It's still hot but there is a breeze blowing through the parking lot, cooling off the sweat on their skin and making Frank shiver.

He lights up a cigarette and passes his lighter to Gerard, brushing his knuckles over Gerard's fingers in the process.

There are a few fireflies swirling around their heads, buzzing and flickering in the air and it feels just like being home.

It's not home though. They're in Kansas tonight and they'll even further away from home tomorrow.

Frank leans back against the side of the van and watches the fireflies as they dance around the cigarette smoke.

They've put a lot of miles in the van but the old piece of junk is still running. It's not the most comfortable thing to sleep in but Frank is getting used to it and he can't really complain. He's doing what he loves with the people he loves.

"Mikey said I should stop tip toeing around you," Gerard announces as he shoves the lighter back in the pocket of Frank's hoodie.

"About what?" Frank asks, because what the fuck are they even talking about now? They were discussing Spiderman and how he would do against the Green Lantern not two minutes ago, and Frank is confused as hell right now.

Gerard's fingers twitches as he takes another drag on his cigarette. He crooks his mouth and blows the smoke upwards.

"Gee. What is it about? Is it because I called Spiderman a pussy?"

Gerard shakes his head and smiles, lopsided and a little red in the face.

"What is it then? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Now Frank is a little worried. Maybe they want to ditch him. Maybe they came to their sense and decided he wasn't good enough to be in the band.

"You know I like you, right?" Gerard finally asks as he starts staring into Frank's eyes, all intent and weird.

Frank doesn't like the sound of that. His last girlfriend said the exact same thing before dumping his ass. "I guess."

"Hmm. This isn't as easy as Mikey made it sound," Gerard mumbles to himself.

Fucking Mikey. Frank would never thought he could be such a fucking jerk. Of course, booting him off the band isn't going to be easy. He's in his favorite band, for fuck's sake.

"Listen, man," Franks says, inching towards Gerard and stomping on his half smoked cigarette, "if you're going to do it, do it now and quick, and don't let --"

Gerard interrupts him by snaking an arm around Frank's waist and pulling him close. Then he's pressing their mouth together and Frank's brain finally catches up with the program.

"You like me," he mutters when Gerard breaks the kiss.

It's not like there weren't signs. Frank discarded most of them as Gerard being Gerard.

They can do some really fucked up shit when they're drunk, mostly giving each other messy handjobs in the back of the van or making out on stage to get the crowd riled up. There's no such thing as personal space when you're touring in a little box. Sleeping all over each other and dry humping each other to get rid of the morning wood didn't seem like such a big deal.

But maybe it was.

"Now and quick," Gerard breathes out. He lets go of Frank and takes another deep drag in his cigarette, leaning back against the van like nothing happened.

"You just kissed me."

[madambeetroot.livejournal.com]

What a fantastic idea - and it's brilliant how it's taken off so quickly.

Gerard/Frank 'been married for years' every day kissing

This Is Not a Love Song (MCR Killjoys-verse, Frank/Gerard)

[melusina]

If Gerard had thought about it at all, he’d have guessed he’d be dead by now. Ten years is a long damn time to be on the run, and he never expected his luck to hold out this long. But, whatever, whenever, he always knew he and Frank would be together, right up to the end. And ten years on, here they are, still running, taking stupid chances when they have to and keeping each other safe when they can.

Ten years ago it was stolen moments in the alley behind the club on the perimeter of the city, desperate, sloppy kisses and Gerard’s back against the rough brick wall while they jerked each other off. Always the fear that they’d missed a camera, that an unusually diligent patrol might sweep them up. Never enough time, too risky to do more than shove their hands in each others’ pants and kiss and kiss like it might be their last chance (because it could always be their last chance, and that’s one thing that hasn’t changed).

But they got out and they got Mikey and Ray out too. And there’s still never enough time, never enough privacy, but there’s the possibility, slim but real, of stripping Frank’s clothes off, of tasting each of his tattoos and remembering when each one was new, of sucking Frank’s cock and using every trick Gerard’s learned to make him shiver and curse and beg, of fucking Frank slow and sweet in the slanting afternoon light.

Those times are too few and too far between, but Gerard and Frank fill the intervals with a thousand casual touches, each one a reminder of everything that they have (everything that they have to lose): Gerard’s hand sliding up the back of Frank’s t-shirt as they share a cup of muddy instant coffee, Frank grabbing Gerard’s arm before a mission to brush his lips against the rosary Gerard wears wound around his wrist, Gerard leaning his head against Frank’s as they pass a cigarette back and forth and watch the sun set across the desert. They usually crash into sleep without even a perfunctory goodnight kiss, but they curl together in the night, and sometimes they rub off against each other, sighing and moaning into each other’s mouths in a futile attempt at discretion.

It could never be enough, but it’s so much more than Gerard ever hoped for, when he was stuck in that dreary little cubicle, living for Friday night and those too few hours with Frank, dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him in the sunlight. This is enough, because it has to be enough, because it damn well may be all that they ever get.

MCR, Gerard/Mikey

[halfeatenmoon.livejournal.com]

Gerard/Mikey, "But Luke and Leia did it in The Empire Strikes Back."

Re: MCR, Gerard/Mikey

[s0ckpupp3t.livejournal.com]

(warning: underage, unbetaed)
"Gee?" Mikey was biting his lips, then licking them, then rubbing his face on his shirtsleeve and starting the process all over again. It was very distracting. "Gee."

"Hmm? Sorry." Gerard put down his marker, shook his head, then tried to focus on what his little brother had just asked him. About kissing. French kissing. Hell. Gerard was going to hell.

"Well? What's it like? How do you do it?" Mikey blushed, waiting and then getting impatient again before Gerard could manage to say anything. "Do you just, like, stick your tongue in her mouth or what?"

"It's. It's kinda wet? In a good way? And no, you don't just stick your tongue in, you gotta see if her mouth's open, and then, kinda. Try. But just a little, until you know." Gerard could feel his face heating up too, but rolled his eyes at the situation and himself. Shittiest big brother ever. "It's hard to describe."

"So show me." Mikey sounded strangely confident.

Gerard tried to think of a way, any method beyond what his hormones were screaming at him that his brother meant and was obviously the correct choice. He failed abysmally. He capped his marker and closed his sketchpad on the desk. "Um, I think I'd have to, like, show you-show you."

Mikey stepped forward, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Okay."

"Mikey. You're my brother." Because stating the obvious helps everything, Gerard thought. Or at least maybe it'd help kill the chub building in his jeans. No luck on that score, either.

"Yeah. But Luke and Leia did it in The Empire Strikes Back." Mikey pointed out.

"And then Leia hooks up with Han who gets frozen in carbonite and Luke got his hand cut off and Leia winds up looking like a hooker by a Sarlacc pit." Thank god. This was totally a conversational gambit Gerard could handle.

"But first Luke looks really smug. And it doesn't injure their relationship; their psychic connection is fine enough to rescue Luke at the end of the movie."

"That's true, but they don't even know they're related at that point!"

"And acting like they weren't didn't do any damage for when they found out they were." Mikey grinned triumphantly.

"Fine." Gerard scowled, swivelling in his drafting chair. Mikey was taller from him at this angle, which meant it'd be closer to what kissing a girl would be like, he reasoned, and was immediately proud of thinking something besides ohgod oh god ohgod kissing Mikey shit ohgod. "Come here."

Mikey obediently shuffled over, still grinning a little.

"Um. Try to keep your jaw loose but your mouth mostly closed. You pay attention to what I do, and then you try." Going to hell, going to hell, going to hell, Gerard's brain chanted, sounding fairly excited about the trip. Mikey leaned over. His lips were already swollen pink from all the biting. Gerard tilted up his head, touched lips with Mikey, and slid his tongue gently between them before withdrawing. Mikey gasped, opening his mouth a bit wider, and Gerard took it, letting himself lick into Mikey's mouth before pulling back again.

Gerard swallowed. Mikey looked thoughtful.

"Okay?" Gerard asked.

Mikey shook his head in response. "I don't know if I can do that. Show me again, and then I'll try?"

Gerard nodded, and Mikey leaned again. They repeated the process, and Gerard explored Mikey's mouth with his tongue a little more this time. Mikey licked back cautiously with the tip of his tongue, and then this time, it was Mikey who pulled away, swallowing.

"Right. I think I can do that." Gerard tilted up his head again, and Mikey kissed him like a pro.

"Perfect," Gerard said, trying to sound calm.

"Yeah, but what if she wants me to be more aggressive?" Mikey was a very dilligent student, and he looked like he had about three hundred more questions on the subject.

It was a long afternoon.

MCR, Frank/Gerard or Frank/Grant (or, y'know, all three of them)

[atmosferas.livejournal.com]

Frank loves kissing in the shower, but he also loves doing it after, while they're still wrapped in towels and drying each other off.

Love droplets - Frank/Gerard

[xoxxblitz7.livejournal.com]

If there is a kiss that is better than kissing in the rain, it's in the shower. Frank adores kissing Gerard in the shower, when he pushes his boyfriend against the tiled wall and presses their naked bodies together, along with their lips. He loves the feel of their wet lips sliding against one another, the droplets of water dripping down from the spray of the shower.

If there's one thing Frank loves more than kissing Gerard in the shower, it's wrapping each other in a fluffy, large towel as they shuffle in to their bedroom, lying on the bed with their towels covering their middles, slowly trying off. He loves it when Gerard slowly starts to move his towel from his middle and dries parts of him off, rubbing the material in soft circular motions until he's completely dry, body smooth and clean against the cool sheets.

Crossover, Pete/Gabe

[inlovewithnight.livejournal.com]

Living like kings

Re: Crossover, Pete/Gabe: Some Kind of Wonderful

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

His brain is still buzzing from the paparazzi and the lights, the cameras and microphones and crowds of people. There are parties all around him, and people waiting to see him, and it feels fucking awesome, because he’s riding a upswing and he only needs a net if he has a plan to fall.

“Gabanti. Gab-fucking-banti.” He slings an arm around Gabe’s shoulder, tugging him down closer to his own height to do it. Gabe goes easily, because that’s what they do. They’re best friends, fucking BFFs, riding the high life and owning the night. “We’re fucking rock stars, man.”

“No shit,” Gabe agrees, looping his arm around Pete’s waist and lifting him off the ground. Gabe’s thin and wiry, all sleek muscle. Pete’s compact and solid, but that doesn’t mean Gabe can’t make him feel like he’s flying. “Prime vodka. All the Red Bull we can drink. Hot and dirty boys and girls. People want to do us.”

“Fuck that. People want to be us.” Pete bounces on the balls of his feet then launches himself up, wrapping his legs around Gabe and hugging him tight, giving him a solid kiss on the lips. Gabe laughs and takes a few steps back, bumping into Jay-Z’s table and they both offer fawning and ridiculous apologies to Jay and Beyonce and everyone pausing to worship at their table. “Okay, they’re rock stars.”

“We’re angels and kings,” Gabe intones, still carrying Pete around. He finds a table and sits down, Pete straddling his lap now, bouncing slightly.

“The walrus fucking said, man.” Pete hugs him tight and kisses him, impulse overriding inhibition. This is the kind of party where cameras disappear until you walk out the door, the kind of party Pete still doesn’t believe he gets to attend. “This is it, duder.”

Gabe nods and pulls Pete close, hugging him until it’s hard to breathe the rarified air. “Fuck that, man. This is only the beginning.”

Crossover, Pete/William

[inlovewithnight.livejournal.com]

wanted you first

Re: Crossover, Pete/William: Wish You Were Here

[romanticalgirl.livejournal.com]

It’s the fourth album that does it. The mix of music and passion that comes out of just the three of them, the tenacity that lasted them through Mike and AJ and Tom and Andy and Michael. Whatever it is, the album takes off, crossing over in more markets than Pete knew existed, topping charts and making them actual names in the business. It’s strange, since none of the other DecayDance bands are up there, out there. Even Cobra’s running a distant second.

Pete doesn’t know how to deal with it, really. He feels like he did when Bronx was born, proud enough to burst and scared to death all at once. Beckett’s been his since the beginning, the reason he’s done so much of what he did. He wants him to succeed, wants him to triumph. He just wishes…

Well, he wishes that he didn’t feel like he wasn’t a part of it anymore

It’s stupid to feel that way, he knows. He’s here at the party. Hell, he’s on the VIP list. He’s here to see and be seen, the elder fucking statesman of the hipster scene. The Academy is where he’s always seen them – at the top, name in lights, fucking headliners in bigger venues, people talking about them, radio stations playing them. This is what they want. This is what he wants for them.

“It is a party, you know.” He recognizes William’s stupid, nasally, Chicago voice without even trying. “You could pretend to be happy.”

“I’m happy.”

“You look like you’re constipated.”

“Maybe I am.” He sighs and rolls his neck and turns around, looking up. William’s wearing black jeans and a pale blue button down shirt, a black vest and a tie that Pete gave him when Beckett told him he was going to be a dad. It’s a hideous tie. “That’s a hideous fucking tie.”

“You gave it to me.”

“I know. Since when do you trust my sartorial tastes?” He manages a lopsided smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. Shit. He didn’t intend to bring this down, doesn’t want to ruin this for William. “Don’t tell people I gave it to you. And take it off.”

“You take it off me.”

Pete stops for a moment, because William doesn’t say shit like that to him anymore, and certainly not in that tone. They got past the teasing, flirting stage quickly because William was a stubborn ass who needed to do it on his own, and Pete didn’t handle rejection well and so it was sort of a relief when Travie and Gabe stepped in and provided a buffer between them. “What?”

William shrugs a little, smiling something wicked that Pete recognizes and wants and doesn’t have any fucking clue what to do with. William turns, smooth and easy, and Pete wonders when he grew up, when he got all this confidence, as he follows him. He knows the answers to his questions, of course. William’s always had confidence in himself, he just needed other people to share it to feel like it fit him right.

There’s a back room, because there’s always a back room, and since Pete’s co-owner of the club, no one questions when he goes into the storage room. There are shelves of booze that look fairly depleted, attesting to the fact that this is a DecayDance party, as well as towels and glasses and napkins, pens and trays and rolls of receipt tape. William doesn’t turn on the light, but there are emergency lights in the room, so they’re bathed in a greenish glow.