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“Holy fuck, Gee, have you seen them?” Frank screams into Gerard’s ear. There is really no reason for that - the backstage is much quieter than the side stage was, but Frank’s ears must still be ringing from the volume, so Gerard allows it. “Fuck! It was fucking amazing!”
“I know,” he shakes his head with a smile. “Good job, baby.”
“And we were on fucking fire today, shit,” Frank continues. Gerard knows he didn’t hear a word from what he said - he never does when he’s this excited, the adrenaline of the show still running through him, and he honestly doesn’t mind. He can feel the energy coming off of Frank in waves, and it’s almost as intoxicating as Frank is himself. He just lets Frank hold onto his waist, already anticipating the bruises that are going to form there from how hard Frank is digging in and allows himself to be pulled through the narrow hallways of the Troubadour.
“Sure you were.”
“Have you heard Tucker? Fuck, I thought he was going to break through the drums, holy fuck.”
“You need to breathe,” Gerard laughs when Frank pulls him into the changing room. He has to physically restrain him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder to stop Frank from jumping up and down like an excited puppy, and he frowns when he places a hand on his forehead. “Shit.”
“I don’t even feel it,” Frank brushes it off like he doesn’t give a flying fuck that he’s running a fever. “Come on, look at me! I’m as good as new!”
“Are you?” Gerard squints his eyes. He brushes Frank’s hair back, and his hand comes back wet and sticky from sweat. “Cause you sure look like you’ve been doused.”
“Ah, fuck you, man, you love me sweaty,” Frank grins at him. He has that wild look in his eyes that reminds Gerard of a hungry wolf that has spotted a new prey, and - damn, Frank is right. He does like him sweaty, and he does like him desperate. Only not feverish.
“Frank,” he frowns, putting a hand on Frank’s chest when he tries to get closer. His shirt is soaked right through, and Gerard is sure that if he picked up the hoodie Frank had discarded as soon as they got into the dressing room, he would find it wet, too. “You need to take it easy. You’re sick.”
“I’m always sick,” Frank rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to take it easy every time I’m sick, I would spend my entire life on the couch.”
“You wouldn’t hear me complaining,” Gerard says. “I would love to bring you tea and cover you with blankets.”
“And rub ointment into my bed sores? I’m sure,” Frank snorts at that. He allows Gerard to press a hand to his forehead again because he’s a good boyfriend and all, but whirls around when Gerard tries to grab his shoulder again. “God, Gee, just let me have this! I’m fucking pumped, man, I feel like I could punch walls!”
“Please don’t. We don’t need a broken hand on top of all this.”
“Or like I could run out there and just… run,” Frank says. He’s found a water bottle somewhere and gulps almost half of it in one go. “Fuck, maybe I should do that.”
“No, you really shouldn’t,” Gerard rolls his eyes. “It’s cold out, and you’re all sweaty. At least dry yourself before you go anywhere.”
“No towels,” Frank shrugs. “Tucker has them. Somewhere. Fuck if I know where.”
“Frank,” Gerard is not above whining. He’s concerned, fucking sue him. “Listen–”
“No, you listen,” Frank whirls back around, and Gerard has a split moment to consider actually yelling at him for being an irresponsible fucker, but then the shirt comes off, and yeah. Gerard is not above staring, either, and he feels his stomach roll when Frank shoves into him with a surprising strength for someone who’s supposed to be weakened by sickness. “I need to get this energy out, or I’ll combust.”
“I know,” Gerard nods. “But we can be home in under half an hour–”
“No,” Frank shakes his head. “I need it now.”
That’s one thing that never changed about Frank. Gerard remembers this from the early days of the band. He always needed to find a way to let the energy out after a show, and the one time he didn’t, they nearly all ended up in a car accident when Frank kicked the driver’s seat in their van. Given everything, Gerard would like to avoid life-threatening situations involving moving vehicles, so that’s out of the question. If it weren’t for the fever, he would even encourage Frank to run around a bit until he’d be tired enough to just slump into Gerard’s arms and fall asleep on his lap. He needs to keep him away from people now, though, and away from overly cold air, so the options are pretty limited. Punching walls could, unfortunately, be their best option.
“Okay,” Gerard says slowly. He tries to touch Frank again and succeeds this time, his hand sliding down his now naked chest. “Okay, baby. What do you suggest, then? You’re not punching any walls, so don’t even think about that.”
“Alright,” Frank says and grins like a madman again. He grabs Gerard’s wrist, his fingers like a lock around his bones, and Gerard’s stomach falls through the floor. He knows what Frank will say before he even opens his mouth. “I wanna fuck you, then.”
The only thing Gerard should be replying to this is - no. He should shake his head, frown, cross his arms over his chest, and stare at Frank long enough to make him change his mind. As the older one, the more responsible one, he should absolutely be disagreeing with the idea and forcing Frank to be responsible, too, and actually take it easy.
Sure, yeah, Gerard is all these things - older, responsible, smart. However, he is also a total slut for Frank, so what he does instead is moan and stumble back, pulling Frank along. His back hits the door they walked through barely a minute ago, and Frank’s weight plasters him against it when their bodies collide, Frank’s teeth already on the side of Gerard’s neck, biting down. It fucking hurts, and Gerard whines, throwing his head back and blindly searching for something to hold onto. What he ends up with is a handful of Frank’s pecs, and fuck, he forgot how much he likes those, so he moans even louder.
They’re sweaty now, too, and that’s so much fucking better. Frank actually growls at him when Gerard pushes him away, but it only lasts a second. Then he’s moaning, too, because Gerard’s yoga classes finally come in handy, and he folds himself between Frank’s body and the door, wrapping his lips around his right nipple, sucking it into his mouth.
“Fuck!” Frank cries out. Gerard has his teeth around the bud now, grinding it just enough to make it a little painful. He eases back when Frank starts actually trembling and licks the ache away, lapping slowly. “Jesus fuck, Gerard, what–”
“You’re all sweaty,” Gerard reminds him. His head is sort of spinning already, so the words come out mumbled and shaky. “You need to get rid of the sweat before you go outside.”
“Yeah?” Frank breathes out. “And what’s your idea?”
“You know what it is,” Gerard grins. He licks at Frank’s chest once more, just teasing, and then rolls his body up until he’s close enough to Frank’s ear to whisper into it. “I’m gonna lick you clean, baby.”
Frank laughs, which turns into a cough when it catches in his throat. Gerard has to remind himself that his own immune system is fucking invincible, and a little of Frank’s sweat is not going to kill him. His muscles are already relaxing under Gerard’s hands, and his breathing, although still elevated, is now harsh for entirely different reasons than the show’s adrenaline. His hands find the back of Gerard’s head, fingers tangling into his hair and dragging him back to look at his face. He still looks crazy, but it’s different now. It’s more like he’s starving, and Gerard is the main course.
Gerard feels that gaze everywhere, but especially in his cock.
“Careful what you wish for,” Frank says. He tilts his head like he’s challenging him, and, God, Gerard is not going to disappoint him. “If you want to do this, you need to be thorough. Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“You know me,” Gerard smiles. “I’m a dirty little thing, remember?”
“That you are,” Frank agrees. The way he cups Gerard’s face in his hand is almost tender, and Gerard closes his eyes and nuzzles his palm when Frank runs a thumb over his cheekbone. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Fuck yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay, love,” Frank whispers. “But I want you naked for that, then. Take off your clothes.”
If Gerard nearly breaks his neck with how fast he undresses, that’s his business. Stay out of it.
He gets Frank naked, too, because he kind of needs his clothes off for what he has planned. The door is locked - or at least he hopes it is - so he sheds his t-shirt, his and Frank’s jeans, and doesn’t stop there. The dressing room is potentially too cold to be fully bare, but he doesn’t give a shit. He needs to see skin. He can almost feel the need pulsating through him, and he nearly chokes when he finally drags Frank’s underwear down his legs, and there he is. A work of art, tattoos covering every inch of his body, muscles tense and firm regardless of where Gerard touches him. Frank’s half-hard already, too, but Gerard doesn’t even attempt to get his hands or lips around him yet. That’s a dessert. He’s got the main course to go through first.
He drags himself up to full height and kisses Frank first, just to give him a little tease of what’s to come. As for Frank, he’s surprisingly pliant, letting Gerard maneuver him a few steps back so he’s directly under the light hanging from the ceiling, kissing him back almost lazily when Gerard licks into his mouth. When he pulls back, he really sees the difference then. Frank’s skin is positively shining from all the post-show sweat mixed with fever sweat. Gerard should really, really be getting him some ibuprofen. What he gives him is a hickey, instead, when he tilts Frank’s head back and sucks at the side of his neck, moaning at the salty taste that fills his mouth immediately.
He doesn’t have a sweat kink. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t mind sweat - his old self would be nodding vigorously at that - but it doesn’t really turn him on. It’s just that it’s Frank’s, and Frank turns him on. Fuck, he really fucking does.
“God, you’re perfect,” Gerard whispers before he starts his exploration. He runs his tongue up Frank’s neck up to his ear, where he bites the earlobe, then down when Frank hisses, to press open-mouthed kisses all over his throat. “So fucking tasty, fuck.”
“Freak,” Frank gasps, but he can’t really think that because his fingers are digging into Gerard’s shoulders harder than usual.
“Yeah, you know it,” Gerard chuckles. He moves his lips to the other side of Frank’s neck and thoroughly cleans it, taking his sweet time sucking on the scorpion tattoo. He swears he sucks hard enough to taste the ink that’s under Frank’s skin. “God, you should let your hair grow out.”
“Not yet,” Frank shakes his head.
“You really should. Fuck, it’d be so wet…”
“You’re not sucking sweat from my hair,” Frank laughs at that. He’s not pushing Gerard away, though, so Gerard is certain he’d be up for that. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be, and he proves it by sliding down to nibble at Frank’s collarbones. It pulls a groan from Frank’s throat when he dips his tongue into the cavities, and oh, yeah, that’s the taste. Jesus, he is a fucking freak, but he doesn’t care.
It gets even better when he goes further down. Frank’s tits are still Frank’s tits, so he pays special attention to those. He rubs, licks, sucks, and bites at his nipples for long enough to get Frank’s cock to harden all the way, then moans like a whore he is when he lets his tongue explore around the pecs. There is sweat gathered there, too, and then more of it that has made Frank’s t-shirt stick to his stomach. Gerard presses his tongue flat to Frank’s skin and licks it all up like he’s starving, from his sternum and between his ribs, and oh fuck, yeah, the belly button. That makes Frank squirm and laugh, dragging Gerard up by the hair like he’s trying to stop him, but Gerard is too far gone.
Maybe Frank is a Greek god, he thinks, and his sweat is aphrodisiac. Whatever it is, it has his cock pulsing and leaking precum, and he spins Frank around so roughly he nearly sends them tumbling to the floor.
Now, his back is a quicker work, but Gerard’s on the mission. He traces Frank’s tattoos one by one - each link of the chains gets special treatment, and then each of Frank's vertebrae gets a kiss and a lick. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that the lower he gets, the louder he moans, and the smell of Frank’s skin gets more pronounced. He has Frank cursing above him when he flicks the tip of his tongue over the very edge of his ass, and he giggles when he bites down.
“Fuck, Frankie,” he whispers. He sounds drunk and dives right back in there, nose sliding right under the swell of Frank’s ass, fingers digging in. “Can I?”
“Can you what?” Frank groans above him. “Eat my sweaty ass out?”
“Yeah,” Gerard purrs. “Yeah, can I? Fuck, baby, please, can I do that?”
“You’re so weird,” Frank sighs, hand reaching back to find Gerard’s hair. Gerard freezes, now that he’s not sure if he didn’t actually go too far - it is weird, he’ll give Frank that, but it’s not like he can help it that he wants to press his entire face into Frank’s ass.
“It’s working though, isn’t it?” he tries. “You’re getting the energy out?”
“That’s a given,” Frank snorts. His fingers slowly card through Gerard’s hair, like he’s debating it. Gerard thinks he could die from happiness when he looks up just in time to see Frank nod. “Fuck it, yeah, whatever.”
“Oh, I fucking love you,” Gerard moans the words right into the meaty part of Frank’s ass. “I’m gonna make it so fucking good for you, Frankie, you’ll see.”
“Less talking,” Frank groans. “More licking.”
Who’s Gerard to say no to that? He pulls Frank’s cheeks apart with his thumbs, and then he’s in heaven (sorry, God). He doesn’t hold back like he usually would if he was trying to actually make Frank cum from it but digs right in there, mouth open, tongue out, licking a broad stripe from right behind Frank’s balls up to his hole. That makes him remember - balls! - and he makes a mental note to go there next, right after he’s done pushing the tip of his tongue inside Frank’s asshole. The hand in his hair tightens dangerously close to being too much, but nothing’s too much for Gerard. He relishes in the pain when Frank basically smushes his face into his ass, and he’s moaning when he truly gets to work, desperate now not to let even an inch of his skin be left untouched.
He has to laugh when he pulls back way too early, making Frank groan. “You can’t be fucking serious.”
“Turn around, come on,” Gerard’s tapping his thighs, but oh, they’re kinda sweaty, too, so he gets his mouth in there just in case, making Frank hiss when he bites at the delicate skin. “Turn the fuck around, oh fuck, you smell so good–”
“I really fucking don’t,” Frank laughs, but he does what he’s told, so Gerard doesn’t even hear the mockery in his voice. “Seriously, fuck, what are you–”
“Oh, yes,” Gerard grins. He looks up, bypassing Frank’s hard cock to find his eyes staring right back at him, and licks his lips. “Oh, fuck yes.”
“Oh God,” Frank’s jaw actually drops. It’s cute. “You’re– unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” Gerard nods. “Now, don’t move. This is the best part.”
And it really is because this is where the scent is the strongest, and Gerard swears it makes him high. He drags his lips over Frank’s hipbones, tracing the swallows, letters, and that glorious barb-wire tattoo with his tongue then moves lower. He can’t help the whine that escapes him when he dips his tongue in the junction between Frank’s hip and his thigh - first the left one, then the right, and Frank is panting by the time Gerard manages to get a hand around his cock. He knows Frank thinks it’s finally it, but hey, Gerard’s memory may be selective, but he remembers his own notes.
Balls. Right there, first in front of his face, and then inside his mouth, and oh, fuck, it’s so good he’s shaking with it, kind of wishes he had a free hand to jack himself off to the smell and the taste that’s filling in his nose and his mouth, but he doesn’t. He’s holding Frank’s cock up with one hand, uses the other to fondle Frank’s balls when he licks around them and sucks them in, and his plan of cleaning Frank up is kind of failing, if he’s honest. Everything is so wet. Frank is leaking all over his fingers and his cheeks, and Gerard’s drooling so much his spit is falling onto his chin, but fuck it, he can call Tucker to bring those towels if they need them.
Right now, all he cares about is this. Frank hisses when Gerard pulls back, then sobs when he licks up his cock. That’s even better because it’s sweat and precum. Oh, Gerard is so not going to last.
“I wanna blow you,” he rasps out. He gives Frank a moment to think about it, closing his lips around the head of his cock and sucking. He gets a hiss and a hand in his hair again, which he interprets as a strong affirmative. “Frankie, please, fuck, you taste so good, I wanna feel you cum in my mouth. Can you cum in my mouth? Please.”
“Jesus,” Frank says, sounding a little shocked. “Jesus, Gee. You know you don’t really have to ask for this anymore, right?”
“I know, but I like it when you tell me,” Gerard admits because - really, does he have any dignity left? He doesn’t think so.
“Dirty,” Frank whispers, but he’s already angling his hips to make it easier for Gerard to suck his cock into his mouth, so he’s not one to complain. He doesn’t even have to try very hard. Frank is sort of thrusting between his lips before Gerard can even ask him for it - God knows he loves to have his throat fucked, but Frank sometimes gets all holy about not wanting to hurt him, and Gerard has to beg for it - and it’s perfect like that. He spreads his knees to get himself an inch lower, opens his mouth as wide as it’ll go, and wraps a hand around his own cock.
It takes him precisely seven strokes to cum his brains out, and it takes Frank like three more thrusts to cum down his throat. Gerard has another short thought - this cannot be a good idea to let someone who’s sick cum in your mouth - but then he swallows and leans in to lick Frank’s cock clean, so maybe he doesn’t actually care. What matters is that when Frank takes a step back, that crazed look is gone from his eyes, and his smile is nothing but sweet and caring when he helps Gerard back to his feet.
He doesn’t even protest when Gerard points a finger at him and tells him to stay, going over to rummage through Frank’s bag until he finds his meds. Is it stupid to force ibuprofen down someone’s throat right after receiving their load down your own? Probably, but Gerard is a good boyfriend. He swallows a pill himself, just in case, and patiently waits for Frank to get through a few of his.
“You’re insane,” Frank declares after he downs the rest of that water bottle, pouring some over his head. There goes drying, Gerard thinks, but okay, he will just call Tucker. As soon as they get dressed.
“You love it,” he shoots back. There are clean clothes in the bag, too, so he gets them for Frank, cupping his face when he’s close enough to do so. “And now, since I treated you to a shower and a blowjob, you’re gonna go to bed as soon as we’re home, and you’re gonna drink that lovely tea that always helps you.”
“You mean that disgusting tea that I hate,” Frank rolls his eyes and looks like he wants to say something more, but it’s interrupted by a sneeze. Gerard glares - he’s good at it, sometimes - and Frank just sighs. “Alright. Lovely tea. Sure.”
“And no sex for at least a week,” Gerard declares. “For your own good. And mine.”
“You just licked my sickly sweat!” Frank yells when Gerard turns around to hide a smile. He busies himself with getting dressed but has to laugh when Frank groans. “Oh, come on. At least a little bit?”
“We’ll see what can be done about it,” he agrees. A week without sex? Fuck, he wouldn’t survive that himself. “Get dressed now, though, and I’m getting Tucker. You’re not walking outside with your hair all wet.”