The first time they kissed, Gerard missed Frank's mouth. They were both happy-giddy-drunk from the beers, and the show, and the beers, and Gerard's body was thrumming with the aftershocks of their music and he felt invincible and sexy as he grabbed Frank's head and shoved his tongue at him. He ended up licking the side of Frank's mouth, but Gerard didn't mind. Neither did Frank, apparently. He just chuckled and wiped his face on his shoulder and threw an arm around Gerard's shoulders, all "I love you too, man."
The next time they kissed, the next dozen times, really, there was the thrill of music, and the fuel of heckles and cheers and screams. Gerard might not have been drunk but there was that something coursing through his veins all the same, something egging him on, making him bigger and bolder than he was.
There's nothing in his system now. He's not anyone other than himself, and there's nothing to help still the thoughts rushing through his head as he watches Frank now, watches as Frank's face get closer and closer. Gerard feels his eyes crossing but he doesn't want to close them. He wants to appreciate this moment. Frank's features are blurring the closer he gets to Gerard. Gerard can feel Frank's rapid breath on his mouth and chin, smelling of pizza and nothing else, no chemicals of any kind, and somewhere something is beeping, and that's the only soundtrack to the meeting of their lips.
Frank's are chapped and there's a patch of stubble under his lower lip, where he missed it shaving this morning. Gerard runs his tongue over it, feeling Frank's sharp inhale.
It's awkward and fumbling and probably looks terrible, both of them twisting awkwardly on the couch, not touching except for their mouths, and Gerard wishes he'd thought to brush his teeth.
Frank opens his mouth, though, and Gerard closes his eyes.
Re: MCR: Frank/Gerard
The first time they kissed, Gerard missed Frank's mouth. They were both happy-giddy-drunk from the beers, and the show, and the beers, and Gerard's body was thrumming with the aftershocks of their music and he felt invincible and sexy as he grabbed Frank's head and shoved his tongue at him. He ended up licking the side of Frank's mouth, but Gerard didn't mind. Neither did Frank, apparently. He just chuckled and wiped his face on his shoulder and threw an arm around Gerard's shoulders, all "I love you too, man."
The next time they kissed, the next dozen times, really, there was the thrill of music, and the fuel of heckles and cheers and screams. Gerard might not have been drunk but there was that something coursing through his veins all the same, something egging him on, making him bigger and bolder than he was.
There's nothing in his system now. He's not anyone other than himself, and there's nothing to help still the thoughts rushing through his head as he watches Frank now, watches as Frank's face get closer and closer. Gerard feels his eyes crossing but he doesn't want to close them. He wants to appreciate this moment. Frank's features are blurring the closer he gets to Gerard. Gerard can feel Frank's rapid breath on his mouth and chin, smelling of pizza and nothing else, no chemicals of any kind, and somewhere something is beeping, and that's the only soundtrack to the meeting of their lips.
Frank's are chapped and there's a patch of stubble under his lower lip, where he missed it shaving this morning. Gerard runs his tongue over it, feeling Frank's sharp inhale.
It's awkward and fumbling and probably looks terrible, both of them twisting awkwardly on the couch, not touching except for their mouths, and Gerard wishes he'd thought to brush his teeth.
Frank opens his mouth, though, and Gerard closes his eyes.