Frank means to keep the kiss light and teasing, he really does. For all intents and purposes, they're still in a semi-public place, and he has no intention of starting something they can't finish.
But then Gerard's palms brush against his cheeks, his fingers slipping into his hair (it's matted and sweaty and long, and Frank has never been so glad that he hasn't had time to get it cut), and maybe it's a cliche, but Frank loves the feeling of fingernails against his scalp and fingers tugging, directing him. And these are hands that Frank watches constantly: sketching on paper, drawing on skin, cradling a coffee cup, holding a cigarette to his lips, grasping a microphone. Somehow knowing that amplifies the thrill. When he tries to draw back to gasp a breath, Gerard doesn't let him go; instead his teeth hold on to Frank's lip, then suck it into his mouth briefly. Frank can't resist that invitation. He pushes his tongue against Gerard's and his body back to the wall.
The kiss gets messier, sloppier, and Frank goes with it. He's still got one hand anchored in G's tie, and the other ends up hooked into the waistband of his trousers. They're pressed together from lips to toes, and they're hot and sweaty and gross, but Frank doesn't care because he's kissing Gerard and Gerard is kissing him back, a firm grip in his hair.
Frank smiles against Gerard's lips when his thumb traces the side of his neck: he knows that's right over the scorpion. He surges forward, and Gerard responds with a growl deep in his throat. Frank pretty much decides that semi-public is semi-private, and that's good enough for him. But before he can act on his thoughts, the door opens, and he hears, "Hey, Rob--"
Frank turns so that he's in front of Gerard defensively. He thinks it'd probably be funny, him as the protector when he's smaller and younger, if he wasn't sure that he could handle whatever was coming with less emotional stress than Gerard. He's pretty sure that anyone can tell what they've been doing.
Obviously surprised, Chester grabs for the doorknob. "Um, sorry. I was--Yeah. You're not Rob. I'll just. Go." He backs away and is about to close the door again when he pauses, a mildly confused frown on his face. "I thought that was all for the stage." He waves vaguely at Frank and Gerard, then down the hallway toward the amphitheater's stage.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-02-13 11:23 pm (UTC)But then Gerard's palms brush against his cheeks, his fingers slipping into his hair (it's matted and sweaty and long, and Frank has never been so glad that he hasn't had time to get it cut), and maybe it's a cliche, but Frank loves the feeling of fingernails against his scalp and fingers tugging, directing him. And these are hands that Frank watches constantly: sketching on paper, drawing on skin, cradling a coffee cup, holding a cigarette to his lips, grasping a microphone. Somehow knowing that amplifies the thrill. When he tries to draw back to gasp a breath, Gerard doesn't let him go; instead his teeth hold on to Frank's lip, then suck it into his mouth briefly. Frank can't resist that invitation. He pushes his tongue against Gerard's and his body back to the wall.
The kiss gets messier, sloppier, and Frank goes with it. He's still got one hand anchored in G's tie, and the other ends up hooked into the waistband of his trousers. They're pressed together from lips to toes, and they're hot and sweaty and gross, but Frank doesn't care because he's kissing Gerard and Gerard is kissing him back, a firm grip in his hair.
Frank smiles against Gerard's lips when his thumb traces the side of his neck: he knows that's right over the scorpion. He surges forward, and Gerard responds with a growl deep in his throat. Frank pretty much decides that semi-public is semi-private, and that's good enough for him. But before he can act on his thoughts, the door opens, and he hears, "Hey, Rob--"
Frank turns so that he's in front of Gerard defensively. He thinks it'd probably be funny, him as the protector when he's smaller and younger, if he wasn't sure that he could handle whatever was coming with less emotional stress than Gerard. He's pretty sure that anyone can tell what they've been doing.
Obviously surprised, Chester grabs for the doorknob. "Um, sorry. I was--Yeah. You're not Rob. I'll just. Go." He backs away and is about to close the door again when he pauses, a mildly confused frown on his face. "I thought that was all for the stage." He waves vaguely at Frank and Gerard, then down the hallway toward the amphitheater's stage.
Gerard's hands squeeze Frank's shoulders.
"It was."