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Sweat.
If Frank had to describe any concert in one word, it would be sweat. A few come after... Catharsis, injury, exhaustion...
For the most part, it was sweat.
He could feel it especially after this show.
Still gasping for air a minute or two, Frank smiles as he sees Gerard and Ray celebrating the show together, as energized as ever. He can't help but stare, smiling as he sees Gerard ramble on about whatever was his favorite part of the show, complimenting Ray's work and talent.
He seemed happy like this.
He sighs to himself, looking at the bottle of water on his lap, the adrenaline wearing off as exhaustion washes over him. He closes his eyes, drifting off to other thoughts as he tries to rest without falling asleep.
"Psst."
Frank groans, opening his eyes, looking at Gerard as he leans toward him, his red hair slightly falling on his face, both hands behind his back. "Hi."
"Hi yourself. Why are we falling asleep backstage now?"
"I'm old now, Gerard. Give me a break."
"If you're old, I'm ancient." He brings a hand up to Frank's face, holding a can of beer. "Let's celebrate."
Frank grumbles to himself, taking Gerard's hand to get off the couch, struggling as he walks to wherever Gerard's bringing him.
Gerard opens the door for Frank—he finds himself in one of the dressing rooms—, and as soon as Gerard enters, he shuts the door with his back against it. He grabs Frank's wrist, making him flinch as he moves him closer with a light tug.
"Gerard?" Frank raises an eyebrow, looking at Gerard's smile.
"I told you. Let's celebrate." He sets down the beer, already forgotten as he focuses on Frank.
Moments like these were always sweet. They weren't as showy as three or five years back, making it intimate, a secret, something only the two of them knew. While Ray and Mikey thought they were celebrating, talking and drinking, they kept their secret in their hotel bedrooms and backstage dressing rooms.
They were married to women they love now, but they couldn't stop their old habits. It's best left off as something that isn't talked about.
Taking the back of Frank's neck, sweaty and damp, he leans in for a kiss, surprising Frank slightly before he accepts the kiss, leaning closer into Gerard, pushing him against the door. He sighs as they break the kiss, scowling slightly as he looks at Gerard.
"You smell horrible."
"What?" He laughs as he speaks. "I always smell horrible. You don't need to tell me, Frank."
"Yeah." He sighs, burying his head on the crook of Gerard's neck. "You're so sweaty too. Gross."
"Pfft. Do you want me to shower before we do this or something?" He laughs, petting Frank's hair, almost condescendingly. Frank simply leans closer to him, smiling into his neck.
"No." He buries his hands inside Gerard's sleeveless shirt, the coldness of his skin crashing against Gerard's heat. He pulls back, trailing kisses from Gerard's jaw, slowly, carefully, up to his shoulder. "Pretty."
"Mm." Gerard doesn't try to come up with an answer, simply petting Frank's hair again. "Didn't you say I was gross?"
"Yeah. You are." He steps back, looking at Gerard wholly, at the hair on his face, at his uncovered arms, at his obvious bulge under the infuriatingly skinny jeans—it makes him dizzy, having someone so beautiful just for himself. "Take it off."
Gerard smiles. "You're bossy, huh?"
"I—No, shut up. Take that shirt off." He groans at Gerard's teasing, even if he obliges. "That shirt was a fucking horrible idea. I can see everything while we play."
Gerard giggles, and it's a noise Frank loves too much, able to erase his annoyance, to get him back to cloud nine as he leans close to Gerard again, running his hands through his back, his skin uncovered now. "What, should I wear three layers of extremely bunky clothes? Bet the fans would love that."
"No," Frank replies, too quickly. "Fans would hate that. You'd hate that. I'd hate that. Mikey would probably love that."
"Hey, don't bring my brother to the conversation. That's not very appropriate."
"Who cares about 'appropriate'?"
We're married, Gerard, there's nothing "appropriate" about this, he almost wants to say, but shuts himself up with more kisses, his hands resting on each side of his chest, squeezing softly as he nibbles on Gerard's shoulder.
"Gee, I have an idea," Frank says, making eye contact with Gerard, his hands still resting on his chest. "Don't know if you'll like it."
"I'm up to anything, puppy. Go ahead."
"I—" he groans, the words already fighting to not get out of his mouth. He knows he can try anything with Gerard, he knows there won't be any judgement—that's why they're doing this, not out of love, but out of lust.
He takes in the whole sight of Gerard again, giving him a small kiss on the cheek before speaking. "Raise your arms for me."
"You're being very cryptic about this," He raises his arms with a doubtful stare. Frank can't help the small moan that comes out of him, already wanting to throw himself on Gerard. "Gonna tie me up or something?"
"No. Maybe another time." He tries to calm himself down, looking at Gerard's face instead. "You always do this shit at shows. Raise your arms. And I can see everything every time you do that because of that... fuckin' barely functional shirt you wear. You don't even bother to shave. It's gross, really."
"As if you shaved."
"I'm not shoving my armpits up to everyone's faces."
Gerard raises his eyebrows, tilting his head. "What's that supposed to mean? I mean, dude—Sorry for having armpits?"
"And you smell, too."
"Geez. You've got me so turned off."
Frank laughs in response, giving Gerard a small kiss, as if apologizing. "Listen, I know this is gonna sound weird. But... They turn me on. Y'know. The, uh... Mmh."
Gerard furrows his eyebrows, trying to spot any deception from Frank's eyes. Instead, he avoids eye contact, his head back on the crook of Gerard's neck. "Seriously?"
"Ugh, you know what? Forget everything I said. Let's just fuck like normal." Frank immediately retracts, his voice muffled under Gerard's skin.
Gerard scoffs at Frank's bluntness, softly pushing him out of his hiding place, forcing eye contact with him. "You're being serious?"
"I told you to forget it."
"Since when do you have an armpit kink? And why didn't I know?" He asks, cradling Frank's face, rubbing his thumb on Frank's cheek softly.
"I don't know, Gee... I don't think I have one, but—but your..." He whines, trying to look below Gerard's arm, raised as he holds Frank's face. "I-It's different. I get so fucking distracted because you decided to dress like a slut."
"Tsk. Asshole." He squeezes Frank's face, a pout forming. "Sleeveless is suddenly dressing like a slut? What, are we in the Vatican?"
"You look hot, is what I'm trying to say," Frank's words barely come out, the embarrassment and arousal too overwhelming. He wishes he hadn't said anything in the first place. "And that fucks me up, Gee."
"Hm. You're saying I'm so hot you're into armpits now?" Gerard's grasp on Frank gets looser, kinder.
"Yeah," he chuckles, smiling into Gerard's touch. "I guess."
"Okay. Go ahead." Gerard lets go of Frank's face, raising his arms as high as he can, his fingers intertwining. "What'd you wanna do?"
Frank moans again, both his hands resting on Gerard's waist, trying to tether himself with his warm skin as he buries his nose in Gerard's armpits. He immediately moans, the texture of the hair and the strength of the smell making his hips thrust on Gerard's thigh involuntarily. Gerard can't hold back a giggle, feeling ticklish.
"You're such a freak," Gerard insults, still holding his arms up high. "I swear, tomorrow you're gonna tell me you've got a piss kink."
Frank doesn't bother replying, licking a stripe up to Gerard's forearm, having to get on his tiptoes, then burying his face on Gerard's armpit again. His hips shift again, trying to find pleasure, humping on Gerard's jeans, moaning as he rubs his face on Gerard, relishing on the feeling of the rough hair on his softer skin.
"G-Get this fucking—thing—" Frank mumbles, his hands flying to his belt, struggling to undo it, too hazy with lust to think straight. "Fuck—get this off me, I need—"
Gerard interrupts him with a mocking laugh, his own breath heavy as he drops his arms to help Frank undo his belt. He pulls the belt out of the loops swiftly, helping Frank with the button and zipper of the jean.
"Please, Gee, raise 'em again, I need to—need to smell ya, please—"
Gerard smiles as he raises his arms, feeling the pressure of Frank's nose on his skin, his breath fast as he takes in the musk, making him dizzy, thoughtless as the only thing he can smell is sweat and dirtiness. He licks again, his body shuddering with the saltiness of sweat. He knows Gerard's gross—he said it himself—, sweaty, his deodorant already given up, but something about his specific smell, the strength of his exhaustion, of his passion, it's too much for Frank. He knows it's disgusting, and yet...
"Mm—Love—Love your smell, Gee, so good, sososososo good, need more—"
He grinds on Gerard's leg, the harsh material of denim making his cock throb with the additional stimulation. He forces his boxers off of his waist, continuing to thrust roughly. Gerard simply laughs in response, amused.
"Frankie, I know you're enjoying yourself a lot, but my arm's getting tired," Gerard sighs out, panting along Frank's rhythm. "Besides, you're being really selfish right now, mutt."
"Mm, so sorry, Sir," he forces Gerard's arm up, holding his shoulder with a spread palm, forcing his arm to straighten up, letting Frank push himself deeper into Gerard's armpit. He's still thrusting as his other hand cups Gerard's crotch, squeezing, getting a small groan out of him. "This better?"
"Mmh, yeah, again." Gerard throws his head back against the door, feeling the exhaustion of keeping up his arms for too long, starting to hurt as he feels pins and needles, blood failing to rush to them.
Frank alternates in between humping and squeezing, refusing to get his face out of Gerard's armpit, his mind failing to work, only focusing on his impending release. He gets more desperate, moaning against Gerard's skin as his hips shudder, refusing to break contact as he grinds himself down to an orgasm.
"Close? You gonna come just from my smell?"
"Y-Yeah, Sir, I am, I—"
He shudders with a low groan, biting at Gerard's skin as he comes on Gerard, staining his grey jeans, shooting up to his belly. He slowly pulls away, and Gerard almost moans at the sight—Frank's hair was messed up, his whole face sweaty and burning hot, feeling the dirtiness of Gerard on his own skin.
"God, you're fucked. You're genuinely insane."
Frank laughs, embracing Gerard into an awkward hug, still twitching with the leftover pleasure. "Sorry. That was amazing, though. You're so fucking gross."
"Jesus, stop that," Gerard embraces Frank back, kneeling down quickly to pick up the beer on the floor again. "You have no right to call anyone gross."
"You're full of cum. And sweaty. And gross."
"Whose fault is that?" He cracks the beer open, offering Frank a sip. Frank breaks the hug, accepting the can from Gerard. "Be right back. I'll get something to clean up."
Frank sighs, settling down on the couch of the dressing room, still only having a shirt on. As he's getting down from the high, his heart jumps in panic as he notices Gerard hadn't come yet. As soon as Gerard comes back with towels and wet wipes, Frank gets up, walking toward him.
"What is it, Frankie?"
"Sit. We're cleaning up later."
Gerard tilts his head, sitting on the couch, setting down the towels and wet wipes beside him. As soon as Frank kneels in front of him, Gerard smiles in realization, already unbuckling his belt.
"Ah. I thought you'd forgotten."
"Sorry, I just felt so good—I'm sorry." Frank helps Gerard drag both his jeans and his underwear off with one quick movement, his dick springing out of the clothing. He moans at the sight, feeling the blood rushing to his cock again as he gives Gerard a tentative lick. "Y'smell good here, too," he mumbles.
"Yeah? Disgusting. You're a freak."
Frank moans in response, lapping at Gerard's tip, his hand grasping his hardening member as he takes all of Gerard in his mouth. He gags, but keeps Gerard as deep as possible, his nose against Gerard's pubic hair. He feels the pricking of tears as his throat tries to gag again, but he forces himself to stay, the saliva bubbling up at the base of Gerard's dick.
"Frankie, oh my God, you're a beast, what the fuck is wrong with you—?" He unconsciously thrusts deeper into Frank's throat, making him gag again. "Shit—holy shit, how are you doing this—Close, close, d-do I pull out?"
Frank hollows out his cheeks, applying pressure on Gerard as a way to assure him, guiding him over the limit. "Ah—fuck!"
He doesn't even need to swallow as Gerard comes, the salty liquid going straight through his throat. He only pulls away when he's sure Gerard has finished, and immediately coughs, a bit of the liquid flowing back to his mouth. He swallows, trying to make Gerard proud as he shows off his empty mouth, his tongue sticking out. He only needs a few thrusts on his hand to come too, groaning as his head falls on Gerard's thigh with exhaustion.
Gerard chuckles lightly, his breath heaving as he looks at Frank. "God, that was great. Does the armpit kink give you amazing head abilities or what?"
"Maybe." He tries to get up, his legs aching as he gathers the towels, helping Gerard clean up his chest and legs. "Y'aren't... Y'know, that, uh, saying I'm gross, that's... You aren't actually grossed out, right?"
"Frankie, if I was, I wouldn't have come so hard. I just know you like it when I insult you."
Frank whines, leaning on Gerard's shoulder, letting the exhaustion of the concert and the sex catch up to him. "Yeah, I guess. Fuck, we need a shower."
"Don't think we'll have one 'til the hotel in two days."
"Fuck me, dude. I feel so gross."
"Whose fault is that?"
Frank grumbles in defeat. "Yeah. Worth it, though."