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Frank had really never needed to be all that careful, was the thing. He'd been depressed, but never enough to be all that concerning, and as long as he was careful about where he did it, nobody was ever the wiser. The sides of his hips, the insides of his thighs. Places his clothes nearly always covered up, and places that anyone who saw him naked wouldn't pay much attention to.
He didn't remember exactly how he learned that some people cut themselves, burned themselves, hit themselves to the point of bruising. He remembered the when, that it started in high school, but not the how. He couldn't wrap his head around it at first, the idea that someone hurting themselves could make them feel better. So the first time was just curiosity.
His parents had bought him a multipack of disposable razors since he'd started needing to shave. They were easier to take apart than he thought they'd be.
He tried his wrist, because that's what all the sad girls online did. He was clumsy with it the first time, it wasn't instinctual like he'd thought it'd be. Maybe he was nervous, but the first slide of the razor against his skin was too shallow and too fast, and it barely broke the skin. It just felt like a papercut. It didn't feel satisfying at all, but then it also didn't look like the pictures he'd seen. He couldn't judge before he gave it a fair shot, right? So he tried again, applied a bit more pressure, dragged it a bit slower. By the end of the cut, a few drops of blood had welled up where he started. It felt different than an accidental cut. The moment the skin broke, his heart rate jumped at the small spike of sharp pain, but the feeling dulled within a few moments. The cold air in the bathroom was a light sting against it. He almost felt lightheaded at the sight, and he'd never been squeamish, but the knowledge that he was bleeding because of something he'd intentionally done to himself made it feel bigger. A drop of blood slid across his wrist and dripped onto the floor.
He was starting to understand the appeal.
He only did one more, just to see. Maybe it was just the anticipation, the not knowing what to expect. The next drag was just below the last, almost on top of his failed first try. The closeness made the initial cut sting more, the new pain and the old pain compounding each other. He was getting the hang of it too, so the blood welled up quicker and started to drip onto the floor. The feeling of warmth sliding across his skin as it did almost soothed the pain. Almost. He pressed his thumb against the cuts, hissed out softly at the bruising ache it caused.
It was really, really good. He felt light, his head a little fuzzy around the edges from the endorphins. He got it, he really did.
Cleaning up after brought a new pain, a little more stinging and a little less pleasant. Not enough to ruin the experience, but it was definitely his least favorite part.
He didn't realize until he'd finished that he'd been shortsighted, that now he had to hide them until they healed since they were in such a visible spot. The paranoia of the next week and a half as he waited for the scabs to heal over enough to be written off almost deterred him from trying again.
A trip to the library to use one the computers there, a little bit more research, and he found that there were so many options besides his wrists, places nobody would see accidentally.
So it became something he did sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. It wasn't like those depressed bloggers, he wasn't trying to let his inside pain out, he wasn't trying to cope with a shitty life. It was just…an itch he needed to scratch sometimes. It just felt good. He felt lightheaded and a little feverish when he was done every time, and it just set him at ease like nothing else did.
He didn't quite connect the dots to why until the grad party where he hooked up with a guy who got way rougher than he should've without asking, and Frank came harder than he ever had in his life.
The next time he got that heat under his skin that made him want to cut, it was like a lightbulb moment. It wasn't like cutting got him hard, but it was like when a hot girl put a hand on his thigh and flirted. It was enough to get him very interested if he let his mind go there.
So he let it.
The thought alone was enough to have him ready to go, so he already had a hand on himself when he made the first cut. He'd waited until the house was empty so he could take his time. He'd have to use his non-dominant hand to touch himself while he was cutting, so it wasn't like he'd get very far, but he still took it slow. He didn't want to get too into it and cut deep enough that it might cause actual problems for him.
He made the first cut a little higher on his inner thigh than he normally would, he wanted to see what difference the proximity made. The skin was much more sensitive there, and the cut stung bad those first few seconds. His dick twitched in his hand the second his skin broke, and his mouth fell open on its own as the blood welled.
He made the second cut just below the first, pressed in a little deeper, enough for the ache to be less sharp, more pulsing. A whine came out of him, a noise he hadn't heard out of himself since that guy shoved his fingers down Frank's throat and scraped his soft palate with his nails, and fuck he was glad he was home alone. Jacking off never felt this good even if he was already worked up when he started, and if he tried making another cut he'd definitely fuck it up, so he dropped the razor to the ground and pressed his fingers against the fresh cuts hard. A bruising ache shot through him, heightening everything. His head dropped and he forced his eyes to stay open, feeling himself getting more worked up at the way his blood was smearing over his thigh as he kept pressing into the cuts.
It was so fucking good, but he couldn’t get himself all the way there with his left hand. He switched hands, and oh, he had not prepared himself for that. The first few slides were hot and wet from the blood before the friction made it tacky, and between the new sensation and the old pain and the sight of his blood smeared all over his dick, it didn't take much longer.
Maybe he was more of a masochist than he thought, and maybe he had a weird thing about blood. Whatever.
So sometimes, not always but definitely sometimes, he needed to hurt himself to finish. Usually just when he was getting himself off, sex was good whether it was normal or whether he could talk the other person into slapping him around, but he never came harder than when he was hurting. It was never a problem, and it was never something he even worked that hard to cover up. It was as simple as keeping his pants on in his day-to-day, and keeping the lights off if he was having normal sex.
Gerard made things a little more complicated, because very fucking inconveniently, Frank really fucking liked Gerard. Plus they were in a band together that Frank loved, and they were finally good enough to actually tour, and Frank didn't want to fuck any of that up with his weird shit. Gerard was kind of a freak, obviously, but there was a difference between Gerard using a disposable camera to take pictures of puke in alleys and Frank jacking off while cutting himself semi-regularly.
It complicated things, but not enough for Frank to say no when Gerard cornered him against the side of the van after a better-than-usual show and kissed Frank for all he was worth. Gerard wasn't overly rough with Frank, but he was kind of gross, and apparently that did it for Frank too. He smelled like cigarettes and beer and not enough deodorant, and he kissed with a lot of tongue and moaned way too loud for being in public when Frank sucked a hickey into his neck. They made out while they shoved their hands down each other's pants, and Frank came too fast at the thought of choking on Gerard's cock next time they had some actual alone time, because he could tell it would be big enough to gag him. Gerard pulled Frank's hair and moaned into his mouth when he came, and he didn't apologize or ask if he pulled too hard after.
He was kind of perfect.
There really weren't any issues the first couple months they were hooking up. They were on the road, they were too broke for separate rooms on hotel nights, and there weren't exactly opportunities for them to get naked. A lot of fully clothed handjobs, a few times Frank was able to talk Gerard into letting Frank blow him in bar bathrooms, and no risk of Gerard finding him out.
When they were wrapping their tour though, Frank got nervous. The times they had a few minutes of privacy in the van, Gerard was kind of really into pushing Frank's shirt up to lick his tattoos and leave hickeys on his stomach, and just overall always seemed to want to check Frank out when he was able to. If Gerard wanted to keep sleeping together when they weren't just the most convenient option for each other on tour, he probably wouldn't be able to get away with half-clothed, lights-off sex like he'd been before Gerard.
So he decided to test the waters during their last week on tour. Telling Gerard the whole thing all at once would be incredibly fucking stupid, but maybe he could work his way up to it. See how Gerard felt about the idea of Frank being hurt in a different way.
They'd pulled off at a rest stop for the night, everyone was too fucking tired to make it any further, and the rest of the guys were passed out in the van while Frank and Gerard had their last smoke of the night together. Sometimes, that nighttime smoke was the only time in a day that Frank got to kiss him. If they actually talked about this, if it was something for real, he wouldn't give a shit if the guys knew. But Gerard hadn't said anything about wanting more than hooking up, so Frank kept it to himself.
Frank didn't light a cigarette for himself this time, just Gerard's. Just in case this somehow went his way. After Gerard's second drag, when his shoulders started to relax, Frank broke the silence.
“You ever want to try something that you're pretty sure most people would think you're a freak for?”
Gerard was smiling when he looked at Frank. “I mean, yeah. For sure. Why? Is there something you want me to do to you? Something you want to do to me?”
His voice had already gone a little breathy even though Frank hadn't told him anything yet. Just the idea that Frank wanted to do something with Gerard he hadn't asked anyone else for had him on board. It helped the nerves a little. The worst he'd do was say no, probably.
He pointed at the cigarette between Gerard's fingers. “Every time we're out here like this, I wish you'd put that out on me before you kiss me. Every fucking time, man.”
Gerard took another drag. His eyebrows had drawn together. He hadn't said no yet. “Where?”
And what did that mean? “What?”
“The cigarette. Where do you wish I'd put it out on you?”
That was definitely not a no. It almost seemed like–"You'd do it?”
Gerard shrugged. “I mean, sure. It sounds hot. Where do you want it?”
Frank never thought he'd get this far. “Not my hands, I guess. In case it fucks up my playing. But other than that? Whatever you want.”
Gerard nodded. “You trust me?”
“Obviously, man. I'm not asking just anyone to put out a fucking cigarette on me.” Frank laughed. “Yeah, Gee. I trust you.”
Gerard smiled at him again. He really, really liked being someone who made Gerard smile.
“Okay. Come here then.”
They were already standing close to each other. They always seemed to just gravitate together. He leaned into Gerard's space, and Gerard kissed him. It was a sweet kiss. Usually, they were either rushing and desperate when they kissed, or it was just a quick kiss in passing when nobody was looking. They didn't usually get it slow like this.
Gerard's free hand cupped Frank's face, and the hand with the cigarette was held at his side. Was he going to do it another night? Was the kiss just to make Frank feel better about not getting what he wanted now? He sunk into the kiss anyway. He'd take whatever Gerard would give him. When Frank had gone pliant against Gerard, letting him lead the kiss and just holding onto his hips, the hand that Gerard had against Frank's face slid down, past his neck, past his chest, towards his belt.
They'd only been kissing a few minutes, Frank's dick had barely had time to realize anything was happening yet, if Gerard was trying to give him a handjob he'd just be disappointed. Gerard's hand slid back up, underneath Frank's shirt, lifting the hem to expose his stomach. Before Frank realized what was about to happen, Gerard had already pressed the tip of the cigarette to Frank's skin. Next to the sparrow on his right hip, he'd have guessed if he had any higher brain function left.
There was a split second, when it'd just touched his skin, that the pain didn't register. His skin tightened up, flinching away instinctively, but it didn't hurt yet.
Then the moment passed, and the pain started to build. The next second tingled, like a tattoo gun that had gone too deep. Then it sharpened, and intensified, and seconds had passed and Gerard was still holding the fucking cigarette there. Frank broke from the kiss and gasped, and whimpered, and it was way too fucking loud for a rest stop parking lot but he couldn't think. It was so, so much more intense than a cut. He couldn't do this to himself, he wouldn't have been able to deal.
He grabbed Gerard's bicep and squeezed. Gerard finally pulled the cigarette away and tossed it to the ground, but quickly pressed his finger to the burn. There wasn't a second of relief, and if Frank didn't get a hand on his dick he might die.
“Gee, fucking hurts.” He didn't loosen his grip on Gerard's arm, and Gerard didn't move his hand away.
“Do you need me to stop?”
Frank shook his head, desperate, and kissed Gerard again. Their teeth clicked together and he was pretty sure that Gerard's front tooth had probably fucked his lip up a little, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the pulsing, radiating heat on his hip that was only worsening as Gerard continued to poke at it. Making sure his fucking body heat stopped the night air from cooling Frank's skin down.
Frank ground his hips into nothing, instinctive, desperate for anything at this point.
Gerard pulled back, barely at all, still close enough for Frank to feel his breath on his face. “Still whatever I want?”
Frank nodded. Anything, he'd take anything. Was Gerard going to burn him again? Was he–
Gerard hit the ground on his knees, a hand already moving to undo Frank's belt. Gerard's other hand left the burn to help speed up the process of taking Frank's dick out, apparently. He only had a second to appreciate the relief of the cold of his skin before it was replaced by Gerard's tongue. He licked over the length of Frank's tattoo, then over the burn, then did it again. The wet heat was almost worse than Gerard's fingers, it seemed to carry the burn up with it.
“Fuck, Frankie. Your skin is so much hotter here, did you know that? I bet it hurts really bad still, right?”
Anyone else would've been putting on a show saying that, doing a condescending voice to add to it and everything. Gerard was panting, breathless, so fucking earnest when he asked. Like he needed to hear it as bad as Frank needed to feel it.
Frank was nodding before Gerard finished his sentence. “Really, really fucking hurts, Gee. So fucking good.”
Gerard groaned against Frank's skin, eyes fixed on where his hands were pulling Frank out of his boxers.
He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the burn as he started to stroke. Frank gasped, hand flying down to grip Gerard's hair almost against his will. Gerard smiled up at him before leaning in and biting at Frank's skin. He didn't bite his teeth down directly on the burn, but the sensitive skin around it, and Frank thought his knees were going to buckle. He felt his pulse throbbing under Gerard's teeth.
Gerard pulled back enough to lick the area again, soothing the bite and heightening the burn. Then he kissed messily down to meet his hand on Frank's cock. He licked a stripe up the length, took the head into his mouth, removed his hand, and gripped Frank's left hip. His middle finger pressed hard through the denim, straight onto a barely-scabbed cut.
He felt the wound reopen under Gerard's touch. His vision went dark. The overload of sensations hit with his orgasm, and for a moment he thought he might genuinely black out.
When he came back to himself, he noticed two things. The first was the pain, an aching burn in his right hip that pulsed through his abdomen, and a smaller pain in his left hip where Gerard was still squeezing Frank's newly reopened cut. The second was the way Gerard was moaning below him as he frantically jerked himself off. Frank made eye contact just in time for Gerard to let out one last breathless, cut-off noise as he came into his hand.
Gerard wiped the hand on his jeans, then stood quickly and kissed Frank again. Still hard, still desperate, but with none of the intent of before.
“So fucking good, Frankie. You were so perfect, you're so beautiful. Thank you for letting me see that.”
And Frank still wasn't all the way back in his brain again, so all he did was moan into Gerard's mouth at the praise.
Eventually the kisses slowed, and Frank gradually became aware of more sensations. The cold air on his skin, Gerard rubbing a thumb gently along his jaw, and still above it all, the pulsing of his burn. Like he was fucking psychic or something, Gerard didn't stop kissing him until he was mostly ready to look Gerard in the face again.
Gerard was smiling at him again, looking well-fucked and soft-eyed. “So? Was it everything you were hoping for?”
Frank couldn't help it. He laughed. “Fuck off, dude. Pretty sure the world's shortest blowjob speaks for itself.”
Gerard giggled at him, honest-to-god, and then pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, maybe. I was more into it than I thought I'd be. Probably because you were so into it. Really hot, though. How are you feeling?”
Frank hummed, shrugged. “Head feels…light. Nice. Still hurts like a motherfucker, though. I'm regretting letting Otter finish off my last joint, I'm not sure how I'm gonna sleep tonight. I don't regret doing this though, it was the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Gerard's smile got wider. “Ever?”
Before, it had been the woman he met at a bar who was looking for a guy willing to let her try out her new strap. She'd promised to make him feel it for days, and she followed through. She'd also been not just unfazed by the cuts on his hips, she'd dug her fingers into them hard enough to reopen several while she fucked him. She wasn't Gerard though, so.
“Don't get a big head about it, fucker.”
“Mm, too late.” Gerard pressed a few more kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his lips. “Any other good ideas you want to try out?”
“Maybe. I'll let you know.”
One last kiss. “You fucking better. Come to bed?”
Bed being the back of a van surrounded by other guys. At least it was easier to explain away being basically on top of each other by morning than it was in a hotel bed. “You not planning on going to the bathroom to wash the fucking jizz off your jeans first?”
Gerard waved him off. “Who cares? I'll do it in the morning, I want to lay with you.”
Frank rolled his eyes. He knew if Gerard didn't do it now, chances were slim to none it'd get done in the morning, but whatever. If he wanted the other guys to think he'd made a mess jacking off after everyone went to sleep, who gave a shit? Not Gerard, apparently.
Ray was spread out across the back row of seats, and Mikey and Matt were already passed out in their corners of the back of the van. Frank claimed his usual corner, but didn't tuck his blanket underneath him. Gerard slid in next to him, cuddled right under the blankets like this was a relationship or something. He put an arm across Frank's torso and rested his fingertips, feather-light, over the burn. The heat had finally started to subside, just a bit, but the insulation of Gerard's skin had it radiating out again. He wondered if Gerard could feel the heat. Probably, right? He'd said the skin there was warmer.
Frank barely got any sleep that night. Gerard twitched in his sleep, and he kept waking Frank up with his fingers scraping the raw skin on his hip. Frank still felt the best he had in a long fucking time the next morning.
He felt Gerard on him for days. To make matters worse, Gerard kept finding excuses to walk past Frank and squeeze his hip to get past. Frank was a little bit in love, maybe.
It was the closest they got to talking about it until more than a month later.
Tour ended, they went home. They didn't see much of each other the first week or so, and then it was all group hangouts until finally, mercifully, Ray decided to go on a trip with his brothers, and it overlapped with Mikey spending a weekend with someone he'd been hooking up with semi-regularly since getting home.
So when Frank invited himself over to Gerard's basement, it was clearly for a solo hangout. And it was up to Gerard how he wanted to interpret that, but Frank had needed bad to get confirmation about whether this was just a tour hookup or something else.
When Gerard answered the door, Frank immediately felt better about the whole thing. Gerard had showered. His hair was still wet, and he smelled like soap. Not like some BO had stopped them before, but the fact that Gerard had made a point to shower meant something.
Gerard was smiling when he opened the door. It was easy to accept the hug Gerard pulled him into. Even easier to let Gerard grab his hand and lead him downstairs.
“Movie night?” he asked, so visibly fucking excited at the idea that all Frank could do was smile.
“Fuck yeah, sure.”
The only lights in the basement were the TV (already on the start menu for Scream), and the lamp at Gerard's bedside.
They settled in together on Gerard's bed, Gerard on the outside and Frank boxed in against the wall.
Halfway through Casey's phone call with Ghostface, Gerard had already leaned in and started trailing kisses from Frank's jaw down his neck. Slow and wet and so not a fucking tour hookup. Not to mention the fact it took all of five fucking minutes for Gerard to make a move, which meant he’d specifically wanted to hook up watching a slasher. It was a good sign for Frank, probably.
Around the time Gerard bit down on his collarbone, Frank started letting out little whines that would’ve been embarrassing if Gerard hadn’t said every time they’d hooked up that he loved hearing Frank. Gerard tugged Frank gracelessly into his lap and kissed him properly. It was sloppy and wet right away, both of them already worked up, and Gerard was moaning at the feel of Frank’s tongue against his basically as soon as it started.
His hands found Frank’s hips, and he pulled Frank down enough that he could feel exactly how into this Gerard was. Gerard’s thumb slipped up under the bottom of his shirt, stroked firmly against where the burn he’d given Frank had scarred. There was no pain there anymore, but the new skin was still just slightly more sensitive, and Gerard would absolutely be able to feel the scar, raised and smoother than the rest of his skin.
Gerard pulled back just a breath, just enough to speak.
“Have you thought about it?”
Frank snorted. “Dude, I think about it, like, every time I jack off.”
Gerard shook his head. “Not that. Well, actually, I want you to tell me about that later, for sure. But have you thought about anything else you want?”
“You’re really into that, huh?” He kissed Gerard again, just for a second, bit Gerard's lip lightly when he pulled back again. “The idea of giving me something nobody else has?”
“Who the fuck wouldn’t be? You’re so fucking…you’re so hot, Frankie. So yeah, I’m really into you trusting me to see you in ways you haven’t let anyone else see you. Really into it,” he said, sliding his hands up Frank’s back, “so if you have any more ideas, I would really like to hear them.”
If they were going to have sex, and they were going to have sex if Frank had any say, then Gerard was going to find out either way. So it was kind of Frank’s now or never moment.
Frank pulled back properly, just enough to give himself some breathing room, planted a hand on the bed beside him for balance, cleared his throat. “I mean. There’s one thing that I really–”
It was harder to get the words out than he’d expected. He’d never said it out loud before, never really acknowledged it at all, and he’d never expected he’d need to, honestly. One of Gerard’s hands stroked his back, calming, and he looked at Frank so openly.
“I like being in pain. Obviously, you know that at this point. Or, I mean, you fucking should after the cigarette thing.” Gerard nodded, small smile on his face. “So. It’s not just during sex. I mean, not even usually during sex because you can’t ask anyone to hurt you. Whatever, anyways. I hurt myself when I jack off sometimes, is what I’m trying to say, I guess. And I think it would be really fucking hot if you did it to me, or watched me do it to myself while you blow me, or whatever you want. Just. Yeah, I’ve never had another person do it, or had someone watch.”
Gerard nodded. “Hurt yourself how? Do you mean something more like hitting? Or biting? Something else?”
Frank shook his head. “No, like uh–I mean. Cutting. I don’t–it’s the same to me as shit like biting or slapping or whatever, it’s just more. I like that there’s a healing process. Like with the cigarette. It doesn’t just hurt when you do it, you get to keep it for a while. It’s like, uh–you know when someone fucks you and it’s good and then you’re sore the next day and it makes you think about it? It’s like that, kind of.”
Gerard looked a little less excited than he had about the cigarette. Not like he was disgusted by Frank, probably, but he was definitely thinking harder than he had before.
“I’m not saying no, Frankie. I just–you’re sure that’s it? Because if you’re–I mean, you know I wouldn’t want to hurt you in a bad way. I really like what we’re doing, and if this is bad for you, then us doing this would be bad for you, and I don’t want this to get fucked up.”
“Gee, I swear to God. Get a sharp object near me and my dick gets hard. It feels really fucking good, Gee. That’s it. I don’t know if there’s any way to, like, prove it without just showing you. Let me show you?”
Gerard hummed. Pulled Frank towards him and kissed him again. Slipped his tongue past Frank's lips for barely a second before he pulled back. He looked better now, like he'd settled something with himself. “You can show me. I know what you look like when something hurts you good now, right? If this is good for you, I'll cut you. Deal?”
“Fuck yes, deal.”
And Frank wasn't going to give Gerard time to change his mind, so he pulled his shirt over his head and slammed his mouth back to Gerard's. They'd never actually had enough time to get each other's clothes off before. Fuck, Frank hoped he'd get to see Gerard naked by the end of this.
He guided Gerard's hands back to his hips, invited Gerard to feel him up unimpeded by his fucking shirt for a change. Gerard moaned into Frank's mouth as he got a handful of Frank's pec, squeezed like Frank had tits. Fuck, Frank was going to push for more hotel nights on the next tour if he hadn't fucked this up by the end of the night.
Frank kissed down Gerard's neck, wet and open-mouthed because Gerard was always so into the fluids and the mess that came with sex. He sucked a mark into Gerard's neck, licked over it, memorized the way Gerard moaned at the feeling. He'd always been noisier than was smart when they had to keep things quiet, and now that he didn't have to, he was letting out these high, breathy noises that Frank was already obsessed with. He needed to make sure this was good enough for Gerard to want it again.
He pulled back just a breath, and between kisses to Gerard's throat, asked, “You have an X-acto, right? Any blades you haven't used yet?”
Gerard nodded and ran a hand through Frank's hair. “Want me to grab it for you?”
“Fuck, please. Rubbing alcohol? To sanitize.” He didn't usually bother at home, but he knew Gerard well enough to know that Gerard would do his own research, and he'd bitch Frank out if he found out Frank wasn't doing it right.
“Got it.” He moved his hands back to Frank's hips, guided Frank off his lap. “I'll be right back, just–” He kissed Frank again, quick and hard, rubbed a hand down Frank's neck. “Right back.”
Gerard scrambled off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom with the distinctive walk of someone with a pretty significant boner. So he hadn't scared Gerard with it too much yet. Gerard came back into the room with a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, dug through his desk drawers somewhat frantically, and finally came back to the bed with the bottle, an X-acto knife, and a small box full of replacement blades.
Frank had, maybe, gotten a little nervous in the time Gerard was gone. Just stupid shit. What if it wasn't as good when he had an audience? What if it was better, but Gerard hated it? What if it made things weird between them?
Gerard kissed him again as soon as he was close enough. He didn't kiss Frank like he was freaked out, he kissed Frank like he always had. Once Frank was back out of his head enough to feel better, Gerard pulled back.
"Okay, Frankie. Show me how you make yourself feel good, okay?”
Frank nodded too hard, felt himself get lightheaded for a second. “Just, can you–I don’t want to be full fucking. Birthday suit, and you're staring at me fully dressed, right?”
“Whatever you need, yeah.”
He kissed Frank one more time, then pulled his hoodie off over his head, then the shirt underneath it right after. He was pale everywhere, only the barest amount of hair below his belly button and around his nipples. His shoulders looked a little less broad without the layers, but still soft around the edges. Frank wanted to lick him all over, and he was pretty sure Gerard would let him. He wanted to bite at the spot just above where his jeans cut into his stomach.
“You're so fucking hot,” he said, instead of any of that. They'd have time for that later, hopefully.
Gerard smiled at him. “Yeah, whatever. You too, Frankie.”
Gerard didn't make a move to take off his pants yet, but that was fine. He was probably holding off in case they had to stop, which. Fair enough. It was still equal enough footing that Frank didn't wait any longer to get his dick out, and more importantly this time around, get his legs out.
Gerard's eyes went first to Frank's dick, already mostly hard from the making out and from the anticipation of this. They didn't stay there long though, tracking across Frank's lower half. Frank let his legs fall open, let Gerard look at the cuts in various stages of healing. Some barely scabbed, some barely visible years-old scars, and in all stages in between.
“Nobody really looks here, so it made sense. When I hook up, it's usually either like it was when we were on tour, or I'll keep the lights off. People don't notice shit unless they're looking for it, you know?” He turned to the side a bit, let Gerard look at his hips. “And then here, too. The skin is less sensitive, so I can do more. If I, uh. If I want it to bleed more, it's easier here. You can touch them, if you want,” Frank said. “I need to get the blade ready, so you can–whatever you want.”
Gerard nodded. His eyes hadn't moved away from the overlapping cuts and scars. Frank couldn't tell what the look on his face was.
He scooted closer to give Gerard better access, opened the box of blades, opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol. He kept watching Gerard out of the corner of his eye, so he didn't flinch when, right as Frank finished pouring rubbing alcohol in the bottle's lid, Gerard reached out and ran a hand up Frank's hip.
Frank had touched the area enough to know what it felt like. Where some of the cuts had been deeper, the scars were small bumps in his skin. The shallower ones barely felt like anything, just…a little different than unmarked skin. Interrupted every so often by the rougher texture of scabbing. He wondered what Gerard thought about it.
He swished the blade around in the alcohol, then pulled it out and shook it to dry. Gerard pulled Frank's legs apart gently, exposed the cuts inside his thighs. The skin there was so much thinner, even the shallow scars stood out. Gerard inhaled softly as he touched them. That was usually a good noise, at least.
He slid the blade into place, then finally looked directly at Gerard. “So, where do you want me to start?”
Gerard shook his head. “Show me how you usually do it. I want to see.”
He sounded a little breathless, like maybe what he'd seen so far was working for him and now Frank just needed to keep it that way.
“I, uh–well if I'm by myself, I usually. I like some buildup, right? So I'll start with my hips, and I–I don't start touching myself right away. I like to feel it first.”
Gerard nodded, gestured for Frank to go on.
Frank took a deep breath. Brought the blade over his left hip, found a spot that hadn't been scarred yet. He thought for a moment about the mess this was going to make on the blankets, but he wasn't going to worry about that if Gerard wasn't.
He pressed the blade down in a practiced motion, but the eyes on him made it feel new. Like every other time, the moment the blade broke skin he felt something loosen inside himself. He pressed in a little deeper than he normally would on a first cut. With how into fluids Gerard generally was, Frank was willing to bet that at the very least he'd like the sight of the blood welling and dripping from the cuts, and he wanted to give that to him as soon as possible.
The cuts on his hips were always a dulled pain, the nerves underneath more layers of muscle and fat. It was almost a bruising pain outside of the initial moment of skin breaking. He dragged the blade to the side, hissed softly at the feeling. He felt his eyelids flutter and try to close. He really did usually work his way up, and starting with a deeper cut was a bit of a shock to his senses. He did another on the same hip, a bit shallower this time. Blood was already welling up from the first, slowly dripping towards the blankets.
By the third, his cock was twitching. If he was by himself, it was the point he would've caved and gotten a hand on himself. Gerard was staring though, gripping the comforter and biting his lip, and Frank wanted to give him a better show than that.
He let his legs fall open again. “Here, uh–I can't go as deep on my own. It hurts more, so my fucking. Brain stops me. If you want, you can try to go deeper. I can never make it bleed here as much as I want.”
He pressed the blade in, and a sharp pain welled up as soon as his skin broke. Gasped at the feeling of it. He usually couldn't do more than one or two there, no matter how bad he wanted to, before the stinging made him dizzy and it would be stupid to keep going. He slid the blade across the skin, a few small drops of blood beading. He let his eyes fall shut.
“I like to push on them, after. When I'm jacking off. It's like pressing on a bruise, almost. But better than that. Feels so good, Gee.”
His voice was shaking like he was getting fucked, and nobody had even touched him yet. He opened his eyes, and Gerard was looking him in the face again.
“You really like this, huh?” Gerard asked.
Frank nodded. “So much.”
Gerard scooted closer. “Give it to me?”
Frank paused. “You mean you–”
He couldn't finish the sentence. If he asked now, and Gerard said no, that would really fucking suck for Frank.
Gerard smiled at him. A small one, but there. “I told you, didn't I? I said I'd do it if it was good.” Gerard leaned in, kissed him. “It looks really, really good, Frank. I want you to feel good.”
Frank whined, an involuntary thing he had just enough sense to be embarrassed about before Gerard kissed that out of his head.
Frank handed over the blade.
Gerard ran a hand up Frank's thigh. He smudged the blood from the last cut Frank had made, his touch so much more gentle than Frank touched himself there.
“You want me here?”
“Please.”
His fists were clenched in the sheets. He didn't know what to do being hands-off during this. He'd never not been in control of this.
Gerard shuffled to lay on his stomach, getting himself a better view. He slid a hand under Frank's knee, pushed upwards until Frank planted a foot on the bed, got himself a better angle.
“You'll tell me if it's too much, right?” Gerard asked, eyes locked on the cut that had already almost stopped bleeding.
“Of course, Gee. Promise.”
“Good. I've never–it's not like when I burned you. If I fuck it up, I don't think we can afford to go get you stitches.”
Frank laughed. Leaned forward and kissed the top of Gerard's head. “I promise I'll tell you if we're getting near stitches territory.”
It worked to disarm Gerard. He smiled up at Frank, and he looked visibly less nervous. “Okay. Okay.”
He pressed a kiss to Frank's thigh, the one that was flat on the bed in front of him.
He placed a steadying hand on top of the leg that was propped up, then pressed the blade to Frank's thigh, a few inches higher than the last cut. He wondered if Gerard knew that it would hurt more as he went higher.
Gerard pressed in, and Frank's leg tensed involuntarily as the skin broke. He'd done this to himself hundreds of times, if not more, but someone else doing it was so much more intense. Gerard definitely didn't press in deeper than Frank had, he didn’t have the experience yet to know how much pressure to use, but the lack of control over the feeling kicked off instinctual alarms in his brain and his nerve endings. It was so much.
And then Gerard dragged the blade across his skin. Shallower cuts bled less, healed faster, but the initial sting when it was happening was somehow worse without the bruising feeling of the flesh under the skin splitting too. Frank gasped, bit his lip to muffle the whimper that wanted to come out. A few drops of blood welled up, but didn't spill over.
Gerard hummed. “You said you wanted me to go deeper here than you can, right?”
“Yeah, fuck. Please. If you want to.”
Gerard kissed the inside of his knee. “Course I want to, Frank. You want me to so bad, of course I want to do that for you.” Another kiss, to Frank's thigh this time. Close to the cut he'd given himself. “You gotta tell me how, okay?”
“You, uh–first time you did it, you let up after you broke the skin. You just have to keep, like, consistent pressure.” Organizing his thoughts was taking all the concentration he had. This was absolutely the hottest thing that had ever happened to him, and Gerard hadn't even gotten the hang of it yet. “If it–if you start and it feels too shallow, you can just. Press in harder, it'll go deeper. Kind of scabs weird, but it. It'll bleed like I've been wanting.”
“Consistent pressure,” Gerard repeated. “Got it. Anything else?”
And Gerard probably didn't know earlier, about where he'd cut. “The higher up you get, the thinner the skin is. It stings a hell of a lot more the further up you go.”
“Do you want me to cut you higher up next?” Gerard pressed a kiss right next to the edge of the cut he'd made. His hair barely brushed against the underside of Frank's dick, and that almost-nothing was enough to have him gasping. Gerard beamed up at him. There was a drop of Frank's fucking blood on the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Or do you want it lower down? I can probably make you bleed more lower down.”
“We could, uh–fuck, could you do both? Maybe?”
“That won't be too much?”
Frank shook his head hard. “By myself, it's–I get. Like this, fuck. And then it would be fucking stupid to keep going because I could fuck it up, but fuck, I really want to. Told you, Gee. I promise I'll tell you if it's too much.”
“I believe you, Frankie.”
And then he pressed the blade in again. Closer to the cut Frank had done himself, back in slightly less painful territory. Just like Frank told him, he didn't ease up on the pressure this time. The drag was slower with the resistance of additional flesh, and blood started to well up before Gerard had even finished making the cut. It fucking hurt. Frank could only ever get deep like that on his hips. This time, he didn't have the brainpower left to shut himself up, and the sharp, sustained, stinging pain pulled a deep groan out of his chest. The healing process on this one would be a bitch. His cock twitched again at the thought.
Gerard's eyes flicked over to it. He licked his lips. “You can touch yourself. Let me see how much you like it, okay?”
His voice was straining, like he was struggling not to get a hand on himself too while he was at it.
“Fuck. Okay, yeah.”
The last cut Gerard made was bleeding properly, now. Nothing crazy, he was sticking to his word about not letting Gerard go too deep, but definitely more than the usual drop or two at a time he managed to get out of the cuts in that area himself.
He wrapped a hand around himself, moaned in relief before he even started moving. His dick had kind of taken a backseat the last few minutes, every bit of his attention focused on Gerard, but the touch made him acutely aware of how close he already was just from Gerard agreeing to this, from Gerard hurting him.
Gerard's eyes were going back and forth between Frank's hand, slowly stroking himself so this didn't end immediately, and the blood dripping from the cut he'd just made.
He settled on making eye contact with Frank, then he leaned down and licked up the small trail of blood running along Frank's thigh, licked over the cut itself once he'd reached the end of the trail. Frank was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a minute. As Gerard's tongue laved over the cut, coaxing out a few more drops, he moaned, like he really, actually liked the taste of Frank's blood.
“One more, right?” Gerard asked, breathy. “You said you wanted another?”
“Please, Gee. Want it so fucking bad.”
His hand had started to speed up almost against his will. He'd been so pent up for so long, all he could do was chase the feeling.
“Yeah, Frankie. Gonna give you another one.”
The next time he pressed the blade in was higher up than Frank was usually ballsy enough to do on his own, nearly at the very top of his thigh where it met his groin. The skin there was paper thin, and just the feeling of the cold metal against it caused Frank to shiver. When Gerard applied pressure this time, it was deeper than his first attempt but not as deep as the second. The sting of the oversensitive skin there splitting was almost too much, pulling a sharp, pitchy cry out of Frank.
It was quickly replaced by a brand new feeling, though. Gerard pressed his mouth to the cut and fucking sucked on it, not giving it a chance to bleed anywhere but onto his tongue. The pressure under his skin in that area was nothing he'd felt before, and it intensified the pain of the cut so quickly that Frank was coming over his hand and stomach before he'd even realized he was that close. He cried out like it'd been forced out of him, everything in his body tensing with the intensity of it. When he came back down, he was completely limp, panting hard.
Gerard was kissing and licking over all the cuts they'd made together, letting out quiet noises with every pass of his tongue. When he'd finished with Frank's thigh, he pushed Frank lightly to get him in a position to do the same to his hip. The blood there had to be dry or almost dry by that point, but it didn't deter Gerard. Frank could see his hips grinding down into the mattress.
He really, really was kind of everything Frank had ever dreamed of. “You should fuck my face.”
Frank had always thought about it, but logistics had never worked out. They were always rushing, not to mention it'd be too obvious to the guys what was going on between them if they went out for a smoke break, and when they came back Frank looked well-fucked with a ruined voice. But he'd thought about it a lot.
Gerard groaned against Frank's skin, nodded his head. He licked up the jizz on Frank's stomach on his way up, which was almost as gross as it was hot since Frank could feel how much it had cooled down against his skin. He kissed Frank again, deep and messy, and Frank could taste himself on Gerard. He licked into Gerard's mouth and tasted his own fucking blood in Gerard's teeth, and if he could get hard again so soon he would've.
Frank reached down to grab at Gerard's pants, unbuttoning them and shoving them down his thighs.
“Come on, Gee. Need to feel how much you liked it, let me.”
Gerard gasped into Frank's mouth and his hips jerked forward. He pulled back to get his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, tossed them somewhere off the edge of the bed.
“How do you want me, Frankie?”
Frank laid back against the pillows, pulled Gerard towards him. “Like this. Want you on me.”
Gerard nodded, swung a leg over Frank's torso. “Anything, fucking. Anything you want.”
Frank put his hands on Gerard's hips, guided him forward until Gerard was straddling his chest and Frank was face to face with his cock. He looked up at Gerard's flushed, wide-eyed face and smiled. “Been thinking about this since the first time you kissed me. Don't you fucking dare go easy on me, dude.” And then he took Gerard into his mouth, eyes immediately falling half shut at the feeling.
He'd loved doing this from the first time he'd tried it, which had surprised him at the time. He chose not to overthink it–most guys loved getting blown, and Frank was more than happy to provide. Everybody won. Like everything else, it was better with Gerard, but it was always good.
Gerard's mouth flew open at the first slide of Frank's tongue down his shaft, and one of his hands flew to grip Frank's hair. He gave Frank a moment (that he really didn't need) to adjust, then gave a small thrust forward, then another, then moaned loud and high as his hips involuntarily twitched deeper and Frank's throat constricted around him.
Frank groaned at the feeling, at the slight blockage to his airway, and that seemed to be all the encouragement Gerard needed to take what he wanted from Frank. He used the hand in Frank's hair to hold him steady and fucked into the back of his throat until Frank started gagging, and even then barely eased up. Frank was lightheaded, and probably crying, and he really wished he was one of those guys who could get it up twice in a row.
His vision was blurred from the tears, but the few seconds of seeing clearly he got when he blinked them away gave him a view of Gerard's face, red, mouth open, brow furrowed, hair sticking to it from sweat. He'd probably look a little stupid if Frank wasn't so obsessed with him.
Gerard gasped. “Close, fuck. Should–do you want me to–”
Frank grabbed Gerard's hips and pulled him deeper, back into his throat. He gagged around him again and felt Gerard's cock twitch in his mouth. He pulled back just enough for Gerard to come into his mouth instead of down his throat, and he swallowed around him as he came back down.
A minute passed, then Gerard pulled out of Frank's mouth and flopped over next to him on the bed.
“Dude, I think you've ruined sex with other people for me,” Frank said, and his voice was fucked. Hoarse and scratchy and he'd definitely have a sore throat tomorrow.
Gerard hummed, still recovering apparently. “So fucking good, Frankie.”
Frank nodded in agreement. “Can I fuck you next time?”
“Fuck yeah.” Gerard reached over and patted Frank's chest. “Just give me, like, a couple hours.”
Frank laughed. “Yeah, sure.” He scooted closer to Gerard, tugged him over until his head was on Frank's chest. “So you liked it? It didn't freak you out?”
“I was nervous as fuck, at first. For sure. I trust you, though. Then you were just. Frankie, you love that. It was so fucking good. Next time we try that, we'll do what you said. You can cut yourself while I blow you. That would be hot, I think.”
Frank kissed the top of Gerard's head. He was overwhelmed, a little, at how fucking. Seen, or whatever, he felt. It was a lot. “Really fucking hot, yeah.”
Gerard kissed Frank's chest, then looked at the TV again for the first time since they'd started making out. Sidney had just gotten to Stu's party.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Gerard said. “We didn't miss the part where Tatum gets crushed.”
Frank was really a little bit in love, maybe.