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The show in Lima is fucking crazy. The crowd is wild, and it riles them all up. Everyone is on point, from the actors to the band. Ray hits the full solo in “Dead!” with such precision that Gerard feels it all the way in their fucking bones, and they’re sure the crowd does too.
Frank is clearly also feeling it, judging by how he slides to his knees in front of Gerard at one point. He hits his notes beautifully, head crashing back and forth. Gerard stares as he throws his head back, exposing his tattooed throat. Gerard grins and sings down at him, relishing the view. Gerard can’t remember the last time Frank got on his knees to play like that. The band rips through the rest of the set, and everyone is breathing hard and smiling wide as they duck backstage to change for the B Stage.
“Frankie, what got into you tonight?” Ray laughs. He’s taking a swig of water and holding his long hair off of his neck to cool off.
“I dunno, man,” Frank says, shrugging off his parade jacket and revealing his thick, tattooed arms, “I’m sure I’m going to pay for it later. My knees already fuckin’ ache.”
“You gonna be ok for the B set?” Mikey asks, though everyone already knows the answer.
“Pfft,” Frank snorts, “I’d have to be dying to miss it. I’ll just have to icy-hot the shit out of myself at the hotel later, no biggie.”
Gerard grins at Frank, always fiercely grateful for his grit. He never lets anything stop him from playing. Anyone else in his shoes would have retired years ago, but not their Frankie.
“What are you smiling at, you're freaking me out,” Frank asks him, furrowing his brow cutely.
“Nothin’, just proud of you,” Gerard tells him sincerely.
“Oh fuck off,” Frank mumbles, blushing, “Lets get back out there, assholes.”
They do, and the B Stage is every bit as fun as the A Stage. Gerard loves having the little soundboard back on stage with them. They mostly push the buttons to make spooky noises happen to make themself laugh, and it’s totally worth it to see Mikey gigging and shaking his head at them. The show ends, and Gerard is still smiling stupidly as they leave the venue.
Back at the hotel, Gerard heads up to their room after saying goodnight to the guys. As they split up, Gerard sees Frank wince and rub his shoulder as he grabs his bag. In their own room, Gerard showers, ‘cause the days of letting post-show stink fester are (mostly) behind them. When they're done, they throw on some pajamas and head to Frank’s room to check on him.
Gerard would trust Frank with a lot of things. The setlists, the music, all their worldly possessions, and more. One thing they do not trust Frank to do is ask for help when he’s hurting. He’s gotten better about it over the years, but even now he’d rather suffer alone than ask for a hand. Gerard is not about to allow that, not this tour. They knock on Frank’s door. Inside, they hear some rustling.
After a beat, Frank answers the door. He’s shirtless, having clearly just come out of his own post-show shower. The rustling Gerard heard was probably him throwing on the mid-thigh length shorts he has on. They’re the only thing he has on besides the heavy gold ‘Italian dad’ necklace hanging by his collar bone. Gerard’s mouth dries up. They’ve seen Frank shirtless plenty of times in the last 25 years in the van and the tour bus and changing rooms around the world, but in recent years, it’s always just been brief glimpses. These days, Frank wears enough layers to keep swelteringly hot enough to manage his pain. Seeing him now, standing right in front of Gerard, close enough to reach out and touch is a little overwhelming.
“Oh, hey, Gee, what’s up?” Frank asks, nonchalant as hell. It takes Gerard’s brain a second to catch up enough to respond.
“Wanted to check on you,” they explain, “Since you decided to throw yourself around on stage like it was 2004.”
Frank snorts and steps back, gesturing for Gerard to come inside. Gerard steps in and shuts the door behind them.
“I’m fine, really,” Frank sighs, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed, “I brought plenty of those heat therapy patches, those usually help a bit.”
“Then I’ll help you put them on,” Gerard declares. When Frank opens his mouth to protest, Gerard interrupts, “You’re telling me it won’t make it worse if you try and bend to put that shit on your shoulder?”
Frank shakes his head and sighs, but all the fight seems to drain out of him.
“Alright. The patches and wraps and shit are in my bag.”
Gerard grins and goes to root through Frank’s luggage. The needed supplies are in the second side-pouch they open. In the first there was nothing but a travel sized bottle of lube, which made Gerard giggle like a middle schooler. Gerard otherwise ignores the lube and brings over the boxes of patches.
“Where first?” they ask, opening the box and pulling out the patches of various sizes.
“Shoulder,” Frank murmurs, flexing it and then breathing out harshly through his teeth, “Please.”
“I got you,” Gerard mutters back, holding up two patches and selecting the larger wrap for use. They look around to the back of Frank’s shoulder, where his skull and snake tattoos meet the old Keep the Faith and grinning pumpkin Gerard knows so well. They reach out and brush a gentle finger over his skin, which is warm and soft. “Here?”
“Yeah,” Frank croaks. Gerard readies the wrap and begins to press the sticky side onto Frank’s skin, rubbing gently as they go to ensure it will stay in place. Once they’re done, they step back, trailing their hand down Frank’s arm as they go. It’s meant to be a comforting gesture, but feeling the bulk of Frank’s arm underneath their palm makes their heart skip a beat.
“How’s that?” Gerard asks around the lump in their throat.
“Good,” Frank sighs, letting the gentle heat sooth him for a second, “Um, my ankle really needs one, but you don’t have to-”
“Shut up,” Gerard rolls their eyes and grabs another patch before sinking to their knees by Frank’s feet, “Some of us are limber and do yoga in our old age, Frankie.”
Frank just giggles above them, that same ridiculous laugh that Gerard had attributed to pot when they first met, then realized over time that he just sounds like that all the time. Gerard pulls the afflicted foot into his lap and looks down. Frank even has tattoos on the tops of his feet now, which isn’t surprising. Gerard traces around the spiderweb superimposed over Frank’s ankle before they start smoothing the next patch over the skin there.
“Didn’t this fucking hurt, right over the bone?” Gerard asks.
“Like a bitch,” Frank shrugs, “But that’s kind of part of it for me. You know that.”
Gerard does know that quite well. It’s been years and years since they last fucked, but Gerard remembers well enough Frank’s proclivity for pain. They remember biting Frank’s hip until he nearly bled, and scratching him till he definitely did bleed. Right now, looking up at Frank’s thick thighs and the curve of his stomach and the bulk of his broad shoulders, a shiver runs through Gerard’s body.
“I knew you’d gotten all of these, but it’s been crazy, the past couple of years, noticing all the new ones,” Gerard says, studying another piece on Frank’s calf, “It’s like I blinked and all of the sudden you were covered.”
“Yeah, and you haven’t even seen the ones on my ass,” Frank jokes, always teasing. Gerard snorts.
“Everyone on the internet has seen the ones on your ass.”
“Oh so you googled me? What was the search term? ‘Frank Iero tight butt?”
“You’re unbelievable.” Gerard rises to their feet, standing just in between Frank’s legs and looking down at him. Frank looks up at them, his hair falling back as he does. Gerard notices the edges of another tattoo, a crown of thorns at his hairline. Curious, they reach out and brush a lock of Frank’s hair through their fingers, revealing more of the tattoo under the rippling strands. They do this a couple of more times, revealing more of the tattoo until they realize it’s a portrait of Christ on the cross. “Jesus, Frankie, your whole scalp?”
“Yup,” Frank grins wickedly, “I hid from the world while I was totally bald for it. I looked nuts.”
Gerard looks down at him, one hand still tangled in his loose black curls. They realize they’re here for a reason that isn’t inspecting Frank’s body for their own benefit.
“You need anything else?”
“Nah,” Frank says, not breaking eye contact. Gerard doesn’t let go or step away. They feel so drawn to Frank right now, internally begging to answer to the inexplicable urge to catalogue every new tattoo and scar on Frank’s body.
“Can I kiss you?” they ask, giving in.
“Please,” Frank whispers, licking over his lower lip. He sounds breathless and his pupils are blown. Gerard leans down to brush their lips together. They want to keep it chaste at first, but then Frank’s tongue grazes their lower lip and all bets are off. They’re licking and biting and panting into each other’s mouths like they’re in their twenties again. Frank’s arms come up, to loop around Gerard’s waist and pull them closer. One hand goes right to their ass over their pajama pants, and Gerard groans when Frank’s strong hand squeezes and gropes. Frank’s other hand slips underneath Gerard’s worn sleep shirt and grazes callouses over their bare skin and Gerard pulls back with a gasp of Frank’s name.
“Lie back, please,” Gerard pleads, needing to see more of Frank under him. Frank complies, moving further up the bed and lying back gingerly so as not to aggravate his shoulder. Gerard climbs onto the bed, straddling Frank’s thighs and leaning down to kiss Frank again. They come back up for air and take in the sight. “So fucking gorgeous, Frankie.”
“Gee,” Frank whispers, eyes kind of glassy already.
“Just let me, ok? Let me take care of you?” Gerard asks, sounding frantic to their own ears. They are overcome by a wave of need they couldn’t quiet even if they wanted to.
“Ok, yeah, please,” Frank gasps, letting his hands fall to the mattress, just brushing Gerard’s knees. Gerard gives him a long kiss in thanks, then noses down his neck and licks down the butterfly and tongues the Let Love In text at the hollow of his throat, near where his chunky gold cross has settled.
Frank whimpers below them, but stays still as they nose and nip along the I Am A Graveyard tattoo and down to his cluttered chest piece. There’s so many layers of tatts here, but Gerard can still make out the original webbing and bomb, remembering one night in the distant past when they slapped Frank’s pecs until they were bright screaming red around the fresh black lines. They keep moving down, just taking in each inch of Frank’s skin. They already feel dizzy by the time they reach Frank’s stomach and hips. It feels like all the blood in their body has rushed to their cock, which is hard and straining in their pajama pants. They drag their tongue over the familiar old doves flanking Frank’s happy trail, then give into the urge to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of his soft belly. It’s not a harsh bite meant to hurt, they are more feeling the give of the flesh beneath their teeth and softly sucking.
“Gee,” Frank moans, reaching a hand up to tangle his hand in Gerard’s hair. He’s not pulling, just looking for another point of contact between them. Gerard brushes their thumbs by the waistband of Frank’s shorts and watches his hips twitch up involuntarily. He’s clearly hard, his dick tenting the thin material. Gerard gives in and drags the shorts down, standing briefly to gently remove them without bothering Frank’s ankle. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, admiring the muscles of Frank’s big thighs twitch in anticipation and the way the tattoos go all the way up to the base of his cock.
“Fuck, baby, you’re a work of fuckin’ art,” Gerard moans, unable to move or look away. They watch as Frank moves his hand, marked hand closing over his own cock. He starts jerking himself slowly, putting on a beautiful fucking show. He closes his eyes, lets his mouth fall open and lets out a pleasured breath.
“Gee, c’mon, I need you.”
That’s all the prompting Gerard needs to spring back into action. They dash over to Frank’s bag, shucking their shirt over their head as they do, and fish out the lube. On the way back, they lose the pajama pants and climb back onto the bed, straddling Frank’s thighs once more. They squeeze some lube out onto their palm and don’t wait for it to warm up before they are brushing Frank’s hand away and grasping his cock firmly. Frank winces at the cold, then groans as Gerard palms the head and starts pumping in a slow rhythm.
“That’s it, baby, let me take care of you, please,” Gerard whispers, watching raptly as Frank gives in to the pleasure of Gerard’s slick hand on his cock. Gerard increases his pace, squeezing the head on each upstroke. Frank moans and starts twitching his hips up into Gerard’s fist. Gerard braces one hand on Frank’s hip and forces him to still. “Just relax, take it baby, that’s it.”
“Gee, oh fuck,” Frank gasps, “M’gonna come.”
Gerard doubles their efforts, pushing Frank’s hips down and watching him intently as they jerk him off fast and hard now, just like Frank has always preferred. They can’t tear their eyes away from any part of Frank’s body, watching it tense all over as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm. Frank is moaning steadily now with his eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open. His lips are wet and swollen from his own teeth in addition to Gerard’s. Gerard presses their thumb hard to the underside of Frank’s dick at the same time as he squeezes his hip, and that pushes him over the edge.
Gerard watches, their own cock straining untouched between their thighs, as Frank lets go. They release Frank’s hip so he can push up off the bed and fuck Gerard’s fist through his orgasm. Frank moans something that sounds like Gerard’s name and starts spilling all over their fist and his own stomach. Gerard shivers at the feeling of Frank’s cum dripping over their fingers. Their first urge once they are done stroking Frank through it is to lick it off their fingers just to tease Frank more, but that isn’t really the goal here. Gerard keeps gently working over Frank’s cock as he breathes hard until he starts twitching away from the overstimulation.
Looking at Frank all sated and messy below him, tapestry of tattoos still on display for him against the white hotel sheets, Gerard needs to get a hand on themself immediately. They lean forward so their cock rubs into Frank’s soft stomach. Gerard and Frank moan at the same time as Gerard uses the same hand still covered in Frank’s cum to stroke themself. They pump their dick steadily and rock their hips so that the head rubs into the pool of cum on Frank’s stomach.
“Gee, want you,” Frank moans, hands coming up to stroke up and down Gerard’s bare thighs, “Cum all over me. You did such a good job taking care of me, made me feel so fucking good, baby.”
Gerard lets out a strangled moan and pumps themself faster.
“Fuck, Frankie, make me so hot. Gonna show you.”
They’re so keyed up from watching Frank that it doesn’t take much, just watching the bob of Frank’s Adam's apple as he begs for Gerard to cum on him and feeling of the squeeze of the fat on his hips between Geard’s thighs as they tense up, and they’re cumming hard.
“Yes, so fucking sexy, Gee,” Frank moans as Gerard pulses and ropes of cum add to the mess on his stomach, “So pretty, God, you drive me crazy.”
Gerard can’t help but rock down and rub their length across Frank’s belly and through the hot mess there as the aftershocks of their orgasm ripple through them. When their cock starts to soften, they let out a big, shuddering breath and collapse along Frank’s side, careful to avoid the side with his bad shoulder. They press up against Frank’s warm body and use their clean hand to pull him by his chin into a kiss.
They kiss in the afterglow for a long time, murmuring praises to each other and luxuriating in the feelings of relaxation and closeness. Frank nuzzles their noses together sweetly, because he’s a giant fucking sap at his core. Gerard loves him for it, always has. Eventually, the sticky mess that has been pressed all over both their torsos becomes uncomfortable, and Gerard gets up to get them a washcloth.
“So,” Frank says conversationally as Gerard wipes him down gingerly with the warm cloth, “That’s your idea of tending to my wounds?”
Gerard rolls their eyes. Frank just waggles his eyebrows at him suggestively, which makes them both laugh.
“Stay here tonight,” Frank says. He’s telling, not asking, and Gerard wouldn’t have it any other way.