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Gerard has this place on the back of his neck, close to his hairline. It's a thing, a hot spot. Poison finds it by accident, but it's a while before he realizes it.
The first time happens when he's fucking Gerard over a broken couch. Gerard's so warm and tight, and Poison can't help himself; he presses close, chest to back and bites the nape of Gerard's neck, hard.
Gerard makes a strangled sort of sound, shivers and comes without Poison getting his hand anywhere near Gerard's dick. Poison tries to hold back, stretch it out and make it last because it's always over before he's had his fill of Gerard. This time is no different; he pushes in, grits his teeth and comes, sighing out a moan.
They collapse together on the couch, panting and sweating.
Afterward, Gerard is unusually quiet, monosyllabic in response to Poison's idle talk. He won't let Poison hold him, shrugs away his touch until Poison gives up and gets up. The couch is too small anyway. Gerard's in a prickly mood and Poison doesn't know what's going on in his head.
It's business as usual.
Poison tugs his pants back on and buckles his holster around his thigh. He pulls his jacket on over his filthy shirt, feeling the weight of Gerard's stare. "Hey, prettybaby, you okay?"
Closing his eyes, Gerard shrugs again.
And Poison's out of patience. He can deal with Gerard being angry, but this weird—resignation—is something he doesn't know how to handle. He doesn't know if he's supposed to stick around or get the hell out and Gerard is throwing him no clues. Fuck it. Gerard knows where to find him. "See you around, baby."
Gerard doesn't say anything and Poison leaves. He doesn't look back.
The next time they hook up, something's still off. Gerard is twitchy and awkward as hell; it's like the first time they had sex, except with fewer bloody noses. He's muttering, "Fuck me, fuck me," under his breath but resists when Poison tries to roll him over onto his stomach. Which, whatever. Gerard likes being fucked from behind but if he wants to be a contrary motherfucker, fine. Poison doesn't care; he just needs to be in Gerard, as deep as he can go.
He wraps Gerard's legs around his hips and slides in, hard and fast; Gerard hisses and tenses, but pulls him closer. "Okay, baby?" Poison asks, panting. He's trying to slow down. He doesn't like hurting Gerard; it makes something clench painfully in his stomach. "Okay?"
He nuzzles at Gerard's neck and suddenly Gerard's struggling under him, pushing at his shoulder, trying to get him off. "Don't," he mumbles.
Something inside of Poison snaps. He grabs both of Gerard's hands and pins them down. Gerard stops fighting, but won't meet Poison's eyes. "Look at me." His voice is hard. Gerard shakes his head and turns his face away. "Gerard, look at me." He waits, unmoving. Gerard can be stubborn, but Poison is fucking tired of this.
Gerard wriggles a little, trying to distract him and Poison gasps at the sensation. He presses down with his weight, hips and hands, trying to keep Gerard still. Fucker. "You want to keep doing this, you're going to have to talk, motor baby."
"Get off." The words are flat, emotionless.
Poison looks down into Gerard's face. He's biting his lip and still won't look at Poison. Poison leans down and brushes a kiss across Gerard's temple before pulling out, pulling away. It hurts, because Gerard feels like home, but right now, he's not particularly welcoming. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"
Gerard doesn't move, doesn't say a word. His breathing is labored, noisy; his cock is still hard and Poison can't figure out what the fuck's wrong.
"Gerard?" Poison gives him a moment, then reaches out and grabs a handful of dark hair, yanking hard. Gerard makes a startled sound of pain; his eyes flutter open and Poison sees the fear.
Poison flinches and lets go, stumbles back. He turns away from Gerard and gets dressed. Once he gets his clothes back on, he thinks about leaving. He really doesn't need this kind of bullshit in his life; if Gerard can't get his act together, then maybe it's better if Poison stays away.
Except he can't. Somewhere along the line he's gotten so motherfucking addicted to Gerard and he's not strong enough to stop cold.
Instead of storming away, he sits down in the rickety wooden chair next to the bed and lights a cigarette, staring at Gerard contemplatively. "I don't know what's up, but I'm about done." He takes a deep drag and flicks the ashes into an empty tin can on the floor. "I get that you don't want to talk about whatever's going on, but I need you to give me a hint, sugar. You want me to stay?"
Gerard rolls over onto his back and looks at the ceiling blankly. "I don't want you to go."
Which wasn't exactly what he asked, but he could roll with it. He finishes his cigarette and takes his clothes off again, climbing back into the bed, backing up against Gerard's body. He carefully pulls Gerard's arms around him, tucking himself against Gerard's chest and relaxing. Gerard's warm breath tickles the back of Poison's neck, stirs the long hair that covers his nape. He feels the hesitant brush of Gerard's lips against skin and he shivers.
He's mostly asleep when Gerard whispers something, something that sounds suspiciously like, "Stay."
In the morning, Poison wakes alone; Gerard's side of the bed cold and empty. Poison doesn't let himself feel anything, just heads back to the diner and his boys.
They both lie low after that; Poison's not making a conscious effort to avoid Gerard, but he figures they could use the time apart.
When they do run into each other again, Poison finds himself slammed face-first against the wall as Gerard ruts against his thigh, fast and frantic, biting hard at the skin of Poison's neck and trying to rub Poison off through his pants. Poison barely has time to twist his arm back and grab a handful of Gerard's hip, pulling him close, closer before Gerard's coming with a loud gasp and a curse. Poison can feel the damp heat even through their clothes.
Gerard rests against Poison for a moment, his breath hot and moist in Poison's ear. Shivering, Poison pushes his hard cock against Gerard's hand, revved up and ready to go. "C'mon, doll, you can't stop now," he says, voice rough. "C'mon—."
Gerard flips him around and starts to tear at the buttons of his pants, unzipping him and pulling his dick out, jerking Poison off exactly the way he likes it. Gerard's mouth is hot and wet against his neck and his teeth are sharp, leaving behind stinging bites. Poison can't do anything but tilt his head back, groan and let the pleasure zig zag through him like lightning. It blinds him with the intensity. "Fuck—fuck, prettybaby, fuck—"
Gerard gentles his hand and Poison shudders. He opens his eyes just as Gerard gives him a lopsided smile, presses a kiss to his lips and is gone, down the alley and back into the bar, lost in the crowd. Poison tucks himself away with shaking hands. Gerard is so fucking perverse sometimes.
Later, Poison looks in a cracked mirror, tilting his chin up to better see the bite mark that Gerard left behind, bright red fading into purple at the edges. He presses his fingers against it and hisses at the dull throb of pain that wakes. "Fffuck."
"Big fuckin' hickey," Kobra remarks in passing.
"Hmmm, yeah," Poison agrees absently. He touches the bruise again, thinking of all the times that Gerard has left marks and it's actually—oh. Poison can't believe how stupid he's been. Gerard likes to bite and suck and lick at the places that are sensitive on his own body. The pale inside of elbows, the soft skin behind knees, the dip at the small of his back...and the nape of his neck.
Every time Poison touches Gerard's neck, nuzzles or kisses or bites, Gerard either comes really fucking hard or he freaks the fuck out. Poison grins, proud at finally, finally figuring it out. "I've got you now, motor baby," he croons to his reflection.
It's a testament to his skills that he manages to sweet talk Gerard into a back rub. He strips off Gerard's sweaty shirt, pushes him down onto the bed and straddles him, sitting on Gerard's ass and trapping him. Gerard makes an aborted attempted to move, a faint sound of protest, but Poison ignores it in favor of attacking the tight muscles in Gerard's shoulders. Poison's smart; he stays away from Gerard's neck, just working over the rest of Gerard's back.
The funny thing is that Poison's actually really good at this. He'd read a book on massage at some point, a ragged pages-falling-out-of-it thing he'd found in a pile of trade goods and over the years he's honed his skills on his boys. Ghoul is pretty bad about keeping his shoulders notched with every bad thing he feels and Jet is a natural born worrier. The tension just knots up their bodies in the worst ways.
So Poison uses his thumbs and the heels of his hands to really unknot the tension in Gerard's back. He ignores the sounds Gerard makes, soft little moans and drawn out groans of pleasure. Poison tries not to enjoy what he's doing, doesn't let himself dwell on how soft the skin on Gerard's back is, or how much he wants to taste the scattering of freckles that dot Gerard's shoulders. Doesn't think about how much he'd like to lick the curve of Gerard's ribs or trace the ridges of his spine with his tongue.
When Gerard is relaxed and pliant under him, Poison makes his move. He brushes the dark hair away from the nape of Gerard's neck, leans over and sets his teeth to flesh, biting firmly. Gerard gasps, body stiff and arching up under Poison's weight. Poison lets go, kisses the spot and bites him again. And again. Gerard freezes for a long moment before his breath hitches on a sob and he melts under Poison.
Poison brushes a kiss behind Gerard's ear. "Did you come?" he asks softly. Gerard doesn't move, doesn't say anything. "Did you?"
Finally, Gerard nods hesitantly into the pillow.
"Why do you hate it?" It's probably not fair, asking when Gerard's defenses are down, but Poison has never been one to play by the rules. "I like making you lose control like that."
Gerard laughs bitterly. "That's the problem. It makes me feel—"
Poison waits, reining in his impatience as much as possible. When Gerard doesn't make an attempt to finish what he's saying, Poison pushes a little. "Makes you feel what, baby doll?" He nuzzles at Gerard's neck, feeling him shiver. "Tell me."
"Open. Exposed," he says, the words clipped.
A surge of anger sweeps through Poison, because by now Gerard should know that Poison wasn't going to fuck him over. He opens his mouth to bitch and abruptly laughs at the absurdity of the situation, because Gerard would be a fool to trust Poison. Poison is not, would never be, the kind of boy you'd take home to meet your parents. "Yeah, okay." He moves to the side and pulls Gerard over, running his fingers through Gerard's hair, combing it back from his face.
Gerard watches him for a moment before leaning in for a kiss.
For now, this is as good as it's gonna get. Poison can live with that.
-fin-