Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being undead never got any easier. 

Gerard knew how to navigate the narrow, winding corridors of the city in silence and shadows. He knew the best places to feed, he knew how to push a victim to the edge without killing them, and if he ever did get too carried away, he knew where to discard them. He could feel when the sun set, and when it was about to rise. After over eight centuries, he’d amassed all the wealth he could dream of. He wanted for nothing, nothing but the warm sensations of the flesh which he could never have for his own.

And so he would prowl the night, fluttering from great city to great city, enveloping himself in the nightlife, from the medieval tavern to the neoclassical salons to Studio 54. Perhaps he’d overstayed his welcome in New York City, verging on 60 years in the metropolis. But it had been so good to him, with its revolving door of residents and exciting new subcultures and 24-hour diners. Most nights he loved to dance, to observe, to be just like everyone else. His body would weft and weave through the crowds of people, not on the hunt for a meal, but for a sensation. But other nights, like tonight, he would observe. Seethe. He wished he could feel this body temperature change when he stepped past the bouncer and entered the bar, he wished he could know the thrill of being young, of knowing those moments were fleeting. Tonight, the dancing wouldn’t be enough.

The Cock was always a solid spot to pick up for Gerard. The Lower East Side leather bar was selective in who it allowed inside, ensuring that once inside, he had a plethora of options to choose from. Whether he sought a cheap thrill or a feeding or just a good drink and a free cigarette, he was always treated well, if not irked by the pompous attitude of the more seasoned leather daddies. Tonight was Biker Night, meaning an older, thicker crowd, and a harsh hum of rock music to watch them under. Gerard nodded at the bouncer, who always let Gerard inside without question, even if he wasn’t following the dress code. I mean, he never did, often sticking to his uniform of black jeans held up by a heavy silver bat belt buckle and black button-down shirt. He wasn’t sure if it was his own power compelling him, or the fact that he was an incredibly generous tipper, but Gerard learned long ago to not question such advantages. But on a night like tonight, a sign on the door reading NO SHIRTS ALLOWED, he especially stuck out. He settled on unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt instead, his silver porcelain chest seemingly glowing as it peeked through the cotton fabric.

The bar was soaked in red light, and Gerard found himself nestled into the corner, nursing his Coke, watching the men in the bar, who all seemed to let their gaze linger for far too long on the cherubic specter. Gerard was awfully good at concealing his age, and on nights like this he looked positively out of place. Most men in bars like this were too drunk to notice the time-worn sorrow buried deep in his hazel eyes, or the way his voice lilted with accents and dialects collected over the centuries. They were really just bags of meat for him, to play with as he chose. And from across the bar, he’d chosen tonight’s target.

The man in question was dancing, albeit awkwardly, with a group of other men. They all looked to be in their early forties, covered head to toe in painted displays of traditional tattoos. While the others seemed to be at home in the bar, their bodies grinding to the guitar riffs instinctually, without any thought behind it at all, the shorter man seemed flightier, more on edge, as if he was looking around to see how he should be behaving. He was dressed more conservatively too, in leather shorts that seemed to be a little too small for him by the way his belly squeezed out of the waistband, perhaps borrowed from the closet of one of the leather-speedo-clad friends. Gerard knew he’d be on his side of the bar eventually– he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

Minutes passed, and the man had broken free of his friends to wait at the bar. His dark brown hair clung to his face with sweat, his chest glistening with that same slick. Gerard slinked up next to the tattooed man, taking in his scent. Salt, rain, tobacco, musk, a botanical aftershave, metal, ink…

“Can I buy you that drink?” Gerard purred, almost the second the man had shouted his beer order to the bartender. The man turned, his mouth going dry at the sight of Gerard in front of him. He tended to have that effect on people.

“Oh… Well…” He blushed, his face turning even more red than before. “Only if you let me dance with you.”

Gerard’s lips curled into a smile, and he put his hand on the man’s bicep, his thumb softly tracing over the tattooed lettering. “Of course…” The beer arrived, and Gerard placed it in the man’s hand before leading him away from the bar to the dancefloor. “Who am I dancing with?”

“Frank! My name is Frank!” He shouted into Gerard’s ear, the hum of the guitars and the bass on the speakers flooding their senses. Gerard didn’t respond, only moved his hands to Frank’s hips as they gyrated to the music. The rhythm guided them, bodies twisting around each other in an intricate dance, Gerard’s lips brushing against Frank’s neck, inhaling the metallic sweet scent of blood radiating from his veins, becoming familiar with the sound of his heartbeat. It was always more fun on Biker Night, when the music was heavy and nasty and the men with their solid bodies didn’t mind getting rough on the dancefloor, oozing with an angry sexuality. Every grind was a threat, every bassline was a beckon to come closer, to release your body and surrender. But Gerard always loved the feel of leather.

It was smooth and buttery, it stuck to sweaty bodies like honey, it retained the scent and the heat of sweat, of sex. It was like flesh.

“I don’t mean to be so forward,” Gerard spoke into Frank’s ear as the shorter man grinded against him, “But if you’re looking to score tonight…”

Frank’s eyes widened, he was disrupted from the lull he’d been trapped in with Gerard, his inhibitions returning to him, his movements becoming more jilted, more awkward. He had only reluctantly agreed to come out with his friends tonight, after months shut inside after a particularly brutal breakup. He hadn’t hooked up with someone in the club since his twenties. But God, he was horny, and Gerard was maybe the hottest guy he’d ever seen, even if he looked like he was at least 20 years his junior. 

“I’ll be in the employee bathroom. It’s next to the smoking section, don’t worry about the staff giving you a hard time. They know me here.” And he slithered away again, leaving Frank in a sweaty daze.

The light in the bathroom was a harsh orange-yellow, the kind of light that exposed every pore in your face and made you realize just how drunk you were as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Not that Gerard would know anything about that. 

Frank entered the bathroom slowly, nervously, like he knew he wasn’t really supposed to be there. He was greeted not by Gerard, but by his own reflection. He was soaking wet with sweat, and he was uncomfortable, the leather had started to chafe between his thighs. And why did someone as gorgeous as Gerard–

His thoughts were cut short by the sharp collision of his lips with Gerard’s cold mouth, his body shoved against the door, Gerard’s hands ravenous on his body, his shorts, inhuman in the speed at which they moved, and the chill of his fingers… His saliva entering his mouth had the same sweet snowy mouthfeel as a fruit-flavored popsicle on a hot day. It was intoxicating.

“You looked so sexy out there, in your little leather shorts Frank…” Gerard hummed, his nails dragging against the pillowy flesh of Frank’s stomach. “Can I take them off, can I see what you have underneath?” His fingertips danced along Frank’s waistband.

“Fuck… Yes.” Frank nodded, exasperated and breathless, his cock growing and tightening his leather shorts, and he didn’t even really care that he had no idea what this minx’s name was.

Gerard dropped to his knees, unbuttoning Frank’s shorts with ease, revealing that Frank had come to the club commando, his thick cock springing from beneath the zipper. Gerard tugged slightly on his shorts, leaving them hanging around Frank’s tattooed thighs. His dick may have been the only thing not tattooed on his body, its pink flesh bursting with blood as his erection grew to full hardness, girthy and veiny, making up for its shorter length at 6 inches. Gerard licked his lips and then wrapped his tongue slowly around the tip of Frank’s head, eliciting a hiss from him, his body tensing up at the sensation of Gerard’s cold mouth now around this most sensitive part of his body.

For Gerard, blowjobs were a religious experience. Centuries of vampiric practice had given him so much power– he could have anything he wanted, anyone he wanted. He could command reduce humans to babbling, mindless servants with the snap of a finger. So to give himself to someone else, to submit to their flesh, while restraining his own desire for blood, for carnage… It was the ultimate sensation for him. 

His head bobbed back and forth, his tongue tracing over the head of Frank’s cock in fluid motions, slurping on the spit accumulating along his shaft. 

“Fuck…Oh my God, Jesus fucking Christ…” Frank moaned, his fingers wrapped in Gerard’s thick, black hair, slowly rocking his head in time with his head’s movements. Gerard smiled and pulled away for a brief moment, admiring Frank’s cock, wet with spit, and the way it throbbed and pulsed with his blood. To feel the blood in his veins under his tongue was more than enough for him, but thank God he’d already eaten tonight, or he may have ruined the moment with a scene of viscera and gore.

“Fuck my face, baby,” Gerard breathed, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue for Frank’s total use. Frank nodded, his lust completely clouding all other thoughts, forcing Gerard’s throat down on his cock gently, moaning in ecstasy as the passage tightened around his shaft, feeling Gerard’s sharp exhale against the base of his cock. 

At first, Frank fucked into his mouth slowly, gently, like he was afraid of breaking Gerard’s fragile frame under his weight. But Gerard took it so well, so obediently, and he had started to crave more, moving his head against Frank’s hands, as if to beckon him to move faster. And so he did, thrusting into Gerard’s mouth, sticky, hot spit spewing from the corners of his mouth, his eyes watering as he tried to breathe through the fucking.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum…” Frank groaned, trying to shove his cock further down Gerard’s throat, as if there was anywhere else for it to go. He loosened his grip as if his hands were not his own, Gerard pulling his mouth away, and finally wrapping his hand around Frank’s shaft.

“You’re going to cum in those shorts for me,” He spoke low, soft, as if he was preserving his voice, “And then you’re going to dance for the rest of the night in them.” He vigorously jerked Frank off, his other hand pulling at either leg of his shorts so they’d be ready to be pulled up as soon as he was done cumming. “Will you do that for me?”

Frank whimpered a soft, “Anything…” his hips buckling under Gerard’s grip. He fucked into Gerard’s fist, and his body contracted and shivered as he came into Gerard’s hand and onto the hem of his shorts. Gerard chuckled as he watched Frank shake from his orgasm, and he wiped the semen from his palm into the crotch of Frank’s shorts.

“What… What’s your name?” Frank breathed once he regained some composure, watching Gerard who was washing his hands in the sink, graceful as if he hadn’t just used his mouth as a fuckhole. He was mesmerized.

“I’m Gerard.” He turned and smiled, planting a soft kiss on Frank’s cheek as he turned the door handle to leave the bathroom. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

And before Frank could respond, before he could thank him, before he could get his fucking phone number, Gerard had slipped away into the bodies, into the sweat, into the night.

Chapter Text

Gerard often found himself reminiscing on days when he couldn’t sleep. He was wise enough to have purchased the 19th-century medievalist Upper East Side townhome soon upon his arrival in the city, and to have it outfitted in the best “vampire-proofing” money could buy, blackout curtains along every window, secret interior rooms for his coffin, a sound-proof walk-in freezer… The interior designer was happy to turn a blind eye in exchange for handsome payment. It reminded Gerard of home, with its dim candlelight, cool grey stone, heavy velvet curtains, the sound of rain tapping against the glass. 

Gerard was born in the year 1177, in a small farming town in the North of what is today known as Italy. He fondly remembered his chores, the goats he would herd with his father, the taste of bread and cheese and wine, his mother’s smile… Until one of the many famines, or maybe it was an invasion of bandits, or a neighboring nation laying siege upon the town– he really couldn’t remember anymore. But his family was killed, the farm destroyed, and with nowhere to go, he ended up at a local monastery.

It started as just sex.

Gerard, with his girlish figure, Gerard with his soft skin, Gerard with his pillowy lips and his moans as sweet as honey. For the monks who’d spent most of their lives without women, he was like catnip, a permissible indulgence. For the nuns who would visit to cook for the monks, or to worship during special holidays, he was a forbidden fruit, sweet and sinful and rotting their teeth with every wet kiss and every finger under the habit.

Gerard struggled with the sinfulness of it all, but he knew that his convictions to be there in the first place were not pure. He didn’t care so much about breaking the rules, or dishonoring God, but he did care about the potential to lose the stability and safety of the monastery. As the thirteenth century rolled around, and a feverish obsession with the approaching end-of-days, belts tightened around the monastery, and a midnight rendezvous was becoming harder and harder to stumble upon. It was late one night at the abbey when Gerard met Lindsege. 

She was a mirror to him– jet black hair which flowed down to her waist, pale white skin which was almost opalescent, high cheekbones… He was enamored with her from the moment she entered the chapel. Most times, women were not permitted to enter alone, or look upon the clergymen. But he felt compelled to allow her to do whatever she pleased, whether it was to listen to his sermons, to hold his hands while she prayed, or to sink her teeth into the soft flesh of his neck.

He became obsessed with her, he would pray for the nights when she would visit, and he started rejecting the advances of those other servants struggling in sin. He dared not question her outdated dress, or her strange manner of speaking and heavy accent that seemed to be from another place, another time altogether. He ignored the omens which plagued him and the monastery, begging him to turn away from her temptation through freak accidents and dead animals appearing in their corridors. Many thought he’d become truly pious, but they didn’t realize he’d instead been diving headfirst into an entanglement with the devil herself.

The last time Gerard saw the sun rise was a foggy spring day, not unlike the ones he would reminisce on now. Lindsege had beckoned him to leave the monastery, to visit her in her castle. She said that she couldn’t come to the grounds anymore, that another monk had told her off. He was bewildered by her, no nobility knew who she was, and yet she occupied a massive vineyard compound which sat atop a hill and overlooked the entire valley. And despite his best efforts to resist her and remain in his sanctified cocoon, it was as if she was pulling him by a rope into the marbled court of her home.

He arrived at the castle as the sun was setting, the pink light bathing the entryway, bringing to life the rich tapestries draped along the wall which depicted knights on shining armor, women bleeding out on horseback, demons tricking kings. As soon as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, he felt her slither along his body, disrobing him of his habit, his body shivering on the cold marble as she forced him down.

Her tongue was sharp against his, like a bitter herb. He knelt before her, his cock growing between his legs as he marveled at her body, her round breasts, her smooth thighs, her long fingers. Words were not permitted when he was with her. She would laugh at him in a tone that was metallic, cruel. He could ejaculate from the sensation of her teeth in his neck alone, but he yearned for her crystalline touch on his sex. He thought that was why he was invited to the castle in the first place.

“You belong to me now…” She purred as she chained him to the floor of the tower. Thirty, fourty, fifty feet tall of heavy, large stones, no windows, illuminated only by a single candlestick that never seemed to melt. His breath was ragged, exasperated from her last feeding. “Such a good little pet…” She laughed, running a sharp nail against his still-hard cock, causing him to twitch, to whine with desperation. “You want me to fuck you?”

His eyes widened, his mouth opened, begging to respond, but it was as if his throat was paralyzed, unable to create the sounds of real words. 

“Hmmm…” She pressed his back down to the stone floor, straddling him as he lay down, her groin hovering over his, the warmth from her body emanating onto him, if he thrust his hips just one inch, maybe he could touch her… “You need to follow your vows, brother Gerard…” she sang, rocking her hips above him. “I think I have just the thing.”

She produced from her waistbag a small, wiry cage, meant to fit his cock inside. A chastity belt. Though at the time, there wasn’t even a word for it– Gerard had never seen such a thing, and he began to sweat. His dick began to soften against his will, and Lindsege removed herself from above him to place his flaccid cock into the cage. He moaned as the cool metal pressed against the pink, hot skin of his head. 

“No more cumming for you…” she sat at his shoulders, beginning to hike up the skirt of her dress. He simply nodded, his mind was fading fast. “Make yourself useful.” She ordered flippantly as she lowered her pussy onto his mouth, covering his face in the fabric of the skirt, her lips opening and making way for Gerard’s tongue.

Gerard was ravenous, his tongue fucking in and out of her pussy, swirling over her swollen clit, slurping between the walls. Her juices were sweet, alcoholic and sickly, like a fermented cherry– so unlike the salty, sweaty, musky groins he’d been used to before. His cock strained against the metal, sending surges of pain through his crotch as his growth was denied. She rocked her hips above him, sliding his tongue along her folds, moaning low and melodic.

“Please…” Gerard breathed as he took a moment to emerge from her legs, the sound of his voice muffled through her dress.

“No.” She grabbed the nape of his neck, pushing his mouth further against her clit, her hips gyrating into his face, her juices flowing down his chin and his neck. Her orgasms shook over his tongue and his face like an earthquake, smothering him in her sex until he was gasping for breath. As quickly as she’d begun, she’d left, leaving him gasping on the stone floor, his cock red and purple from the strain. 

And so this would continue: Lindsege would enter his tower, treating his face as a plaything, maybe strike his enclosed cock if he was bad, if he strained too much, and she would pierce his neck or his wrist and feed from him, and leave. He begged for her to release his cock, to let him cum, for his tongue to take a break, and he would cry as he felt the blood rush before realizing there was nowhere for it to go but into her mouth, as semen leaked from the tip of his cock onto the stone floor. He was desperate, and chained up in such a way that he was wholly restricted when left to his own devices. When she was gone, she was all he could think about. All he wanted to think about.

He was so sick with his desire that he was wholly unaware that for months, he was slowly being turned into a vampire himself. A slow and painful bloodletting process he allowed until his mortal death had already sunken in, and it was too late to escape. He’d lost all sensation, all personhood, becoming a vessel for her pleasure, and later an agent to provide her more humans to drain and consume. And yet, on cool and rainy nights, he yearned for the cool touch of the stone and rusted metal, and of the taste of fermented cherry wine. It felt like home to him.

Chapter Text

After so long in the same body, it’s only natural that Gerard found himself experimenting with his gender presentation. At first, the cross-dressing just started as a way to stay in one place a little longer, like his 100-year stint in Paris. He was genetically blessed with such soft, girlish features that no one even bat an eye when he chose to step out in a dress for the first time, his negligee sparkling under jewel-toned satin. It wasn’t long before he stopped using vampiric survival as an excuse, rather embracing the fact that he just looked really fucking good in a skirt.

His favorite place to dress up in New York was at the goth clubs. There had been a rotating selection of them through the years, across all the boroughs, but he didn’t really care too much which exact venue he found himself in. As long as there were masses of bodies moving in time to the pulsating trance of the music drenched in swaths of black fabric, he was happy to be there. Most nights he even got lucky with a feeding or two– the goth crowd was always willing to volunteer.

On nights like these, Gerard wished he could see his own reflection. He knew he was stunning, his long legs encased in a silky black sheen of nylon, his thighs hugged by a tight leather pencil skirt. His porcelain chest, enveloped in a lacy black bralette, peeked out of his blouse, a deep purple silk number, his exposed skin adorned with layers of rosaries and necklaces. As he walked down the sidewalk, black pumps clicking on the pavement, heads turned, heart rates increased, breaths seized. He was the prettiest girl at the party.

Under the harsh glow of a white fluorescent light, Gerard’s teeth were sunk deep into the warm, pulsating neck of a woman he’d met on the dancefloor not fifteen minutes after he’d entered the establishment. He loved dancing with his victims, the delicate movements made him feel like an animal luring in their prey, or like he was performing a religious ritual again. He could dance with them for hours, exhausting their limbs and clouding their senses, allowing for the smooth transition from soft neck kisses to puncture wounds. The blood was sweet and thick flowing down his throat– it was good blood, the blood of someone who was well-fed, who bathed in the sun and laughed with her friends until the wee hours of the night. He was half tempted to drain her of everything she had and push to the brink, to slip out into the night and hope that she survived.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

“Hey! Only one person in the bathroom at a time! Get the fuck out before–”

Gerard groaned as he removed his fangs from her neck, the flesh squelching from the release. “Just a second…” He purred, wiping his thumb over her wounds and licking his lips. She moaned softly, curling her head into his chest. “You need to get up now, dear.”

“You’re leaving? No…”

“Yes.” And as if he’d cast a spell on her, she removed herself from his grasp and led them out of the bathroom without a word, slipping away into the crowd. The bouncer outside of the bathroom shot a glare at Gerard, shaking his bald, tattooed head disapprovingly. 

“It says only one person in the bathroom at a time. You must think we’re stupid or something, but if we see you again–”

“Oh please,” Gerard rolled his eyes, pulling a roll of dollar bills from his bralette and placing it in the bouncer’s palm, “Like you’ve never seen two girls go to the bathroom together.” He sauntered away into the other side of the club, towards the hum of the cover band playing in the yard. He lurked in the back of the crowd, savoring the last drops of blood in his mouth as he drew in deep breaths of the cool fall air, its notes of cigarette smoke and cinnamon and gasoline. 

“You make a really pretty girl, you know.” A familiar, needy voice in his ear. Gerard turned, only to find… Oh God, what was his name again? Frank. But alas, no tiny leather shorts tonight, no tummy poking out on the dancefloor. This Frank was donned in black jeans and a black denim jacket over a nondescript band tee, his messy brown hair poking from under a baseball cap. While Gerard wished he was looking at his thick, inked thighs again, he had to admit that this band dad look was so endearing. His lips curled into a smile.

“You think so? I thought you were gay.” Gerard giggled, flicking his hair behind his shoulder, exposing his bra strap.

“Well… I swing both ways.” Frank smiled, his heart rate slowed and he stepped closer to Gerard. The truth is, he’d been watching him from across the club all night, how his hips gyrated under his skirt, his movements with the music so fluid, like he wrote all the songs himself. He wanted to run up to him from the moment he saw him, to push him against the wall and make out with him sloppily under the disco ball, to run his hands up his skirt and fuck his boypussy in front of everyone and– well, he was just too nervous to say anything. But jealousy is a powerful thing, and watching Gerard slink away to the bathroom with a girl filled him with a gut-wrenching desire. He needed Gerard again. “Looks like you do, too.”

“Are you jealous?” Gerard cocked his head, his heart fluttering at the thought. The games were the best part.

“No…” Frank laughed unconvincingly and furrowed his brow. 

“Don’t worry, Frankie,” Gerard reached his fingers to the collar of Frank’s jacket, looking down and realizing how much taller than Frank he was now that he was wearing heels. “She wasn’t as good as you.” He breathed the words into Frank’s ear, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

“Jesus Christ…” Frank moaned, feeling his jeans getting tighter as Gerard’s body grazed against his own. “I need you so bad, I’ve been thinking about you for weeks, ever since the leather bar, and–” Gerard placed a finger against the man’s lips. His nails were manicured into a delicate almond shape and painted a shade of deep burgundy. 

“You talk a lot. Too much.” 

Frank scrunched his nose, and hummed against Gerard’s finger. “Can we go to the bathroom?” Gerard laughed at the proposal, swirling his finger along Frank’s soft lips, the stubble of his mustache prickling his fingertips.

“The security here isn’t very fond of me… Why don’t you just come back to my place?”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Where is it? Yes. Fuck, we can go right now. Or, I mean, we can stay and watch the band, if you want. I don’t know. Fuck.” His half erect dick in his pants was taking over all semblance of cool he’d spent years in the scene building up, anything he knew about playing the game, about being hard-to-get. But Gerard loved the desperation– it reminded him of himself.

“Here.” Gerard pulled away and slipped a small black business card into Frank’s hand. “This is my address. I have to clean up a few things, but meet me there in an hour, yeah?”

“I really don’t mind if it’s messy, I–” Frank took a deep breath, noticing the look of stern apprehension from Gerard. “Please just don’t change. Please.”

“Of course not.” 

–

Under the warm glow of the fireplace, Gerard straddled Frank on a grey velvet rococo sofa. Frank’s hands gripped Gerard’s hips from underneath his skirt, their cocks rubbing against each other through layers of denim and leather. The air was thick with smoke and sweat, Gerard’s fingers tangled deep into Frank’s hair, pulling with every deep kiss, shoving his tongue down his throat as if he was trying to devour him. Frank moved his hands to the buttons on Gerard’s blouse, slowly unhooking them to reveal Gerard’s chest, adorned in a lacy black bralette, his nipples pink and hard under the damasque details. 

“You have such pretty tits, baby…” Frank whispered, moving his attention to Gerard’s chest, placing soft kisses on his skin, his teeth pulling back on the bralette cup to expose her flesh. “Such pretty little tits…” He moaned into a kiss, his lips wrapping around Gerard’s nipple and sucking hard, his hand cupping what little supple flesh Gerard had up there. 

“Oh, Frankie…” Gerard moaned, bucking his hips against Frank’s. “Help me take this off…” He motioned to his skirt, and Frank mindlessly followed, his lips still peppering Gerard’s chest with hickeys and kisses. A rush of blood went straight to Frank’s dick when he felt the smooth nylon along Gerard’s ass, and he pulled away only to admire what was in front of him. Gerard, sweaty and moaning and drunk off lust, in a black bralette and stockings which covered the matching pair of panties he had on, his erect cock poking out of the top of the waistband, a wet spot of precum forming under the nylon. “You like them?” Gerard sang, wiggling his hips as though to show off. Frank’s mouth was agape, mesmerized by the vision in front of him. He had felt Gerard’s cock before, of course, but seeing its size and shape for the first time was marvelous, long, well over 8 inches, pale and thick and curving slightly upward.

Frank only nodded in response, lifting Gerard’s hips to meet his face and pulling his stockings halfway down his thighs, pressing his mouth against the heat of Gerard’s lace-covered cock. He moaned into the fabric, wanting so badly to suck Gerard off, but not wanting to abandon the vision of him in panties that was so intoxicatingly attractive. Instead, he pulled the gusset of the panties to the side, Gerard’s cock springing forward, lightly slapping Frank’s cheek. The two of them giggled, before Gerard guided his dick to Frank’s mouth. 

“You know how to treat a girl right?” He purred, pushing the tip of his cock into his mouth slowly. Frank nodded eagerly, placing his hands on Gerard’s hips again as he attempted to swallow his length, gagging with still an inch or two left to go. Gerard stroked his hair as he continued pushing down Frank’s throat. “Good boy… That’s a good boy…” He moaned as his balls touched Frank’s lips. Frank’s eyes watered, but he yearned to please Gerard, his tongue sliding up and down Gerard’s shaft before Gerard pulled out, leaving sticky strings of spit hanging from his mouth. “Here. Let me sit.” Gerard dropped down to the couch beside Frank, and hoisted his legs up into the air, pulling his panties further to the side to expose his tight, pink asshole. Frank, still in a daze, took a moment before dropping to his knees onto the hardwood floor in front of Gerard.

“Fuck… Your pussy… It looks so fucking tight…” Frank moaned as he ran his tongue along Gerard’s thighs to the rim of his ass. His tongue swirled around Gerard’s hole before poking into it, the pressure almost swallowing his tongue. Gerard moaned again, his fingers finding their place in Frank’s hair as if to guide him. Frank’s tongue moved in and out of his hole, the taste of musk filling his mouth as he buried his face into Gerard’s crotch. 

“Oh, Frank…” Gerard moaned, his cock twitching against the lace with every movement of Frank’s tongue. “Feels… Ah! So good in my pussy, baby… Fuck…” He could feel he was about to burst, his hole expanding and contracting around Frank’s tongue, yearning to be filled and– now there was a finger in there too, Frank was hooking up to Gerard’s prostate, the pleasure overwhelming his body and causing Gerard to erupt into a chorus of moans, the control of his body slipping away under Frank’s digits, his hands frantically running from cupping his breasts to holding and squeezing his cock, back to Frank’s hair. 

“Mmmm… Fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna cum…” He moaned, his hips bucking into the air. Frank held down Gerard’s thighs with the hand that was free from fingering. 

“Good girl…” Frank purred, moving his mouth away from his hole and up to his cock, softly wrapping his lips around the tip and slowly bobbing his head as he continued to finger Gerard. In a deep groan, Gerard thrust into the back of Frank’s mouth, ropes of cum shooting out and dripping down the sides of Frank’s lips, his sounds decrescendoing into tiny whimpers. Gently, Frank slipped Gerard’s cock out of his mouth, swallowing his cum. “You’re such a good fucking girl…”

Chapter Text

For a long time, Gerard struggled without having someone to control him, to guide him. Lindsege played this role for many centuries, until the plague ravaged their oasis in the Italian countryside, infecting the blood they drank, causing them to starve and become weak. By the time Gerard heard the townspeople burning her at the stake, it was too late. Through the flame and fury, he was able to narrowly escape across the border into France. And while he was able to establish himself in society, to find new ways to feed without a partner… He still missed the feeling of security she had offered him.

He’d tried a few times before to find someone who could be his dominant partner, but each time the conditions of his vampiric state made it clear that a dominant and submissive dynamic simply wouldn’t do for him. Whether it was the insatiable hunger or the realities of aging, it never worked out the way he wanted it to. Of course, he knew he didn’t need to pay for sex or companionship or for someone to tie him up… But maybe a professional dominatrix was just what he needed. 

It was on a trip to Berlin during the Weimar Republic when Gerard had first paid for the experience. He’d been in the city for a few weeks, embroiled in a cabaret production put on by a vampire friend of his and all of the messy logistics that came with it. Sex, art, drugs, dancing, blood… It was debaucherous and completely unsustainable. Gerard found himself getting sloppy with his kills, forgetting to slip into his coffin before the sun came up, surrounding himself with the wrong sorts of people.

Of this cast of degenerates was a man who Gerard couldn’t quite remember the name of, only that he told him about a woman he’d been seeing, a woman from America with a toybox that thrilled everyone who came into her dungeon. Over a glass or three of absinthe, the man finally gave Gerard her address, her name: Mistress Delilah.

In a haze of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, Gerard found himself in the basement of another cabaret club, one much more expensive than the one he spent his time at. Generals, businessmen, foreign dignitaries lined the halls, courting women in multicolored bobs and jeweled lingerie. At the end of the corridor was a door with the name Delilah painted on the wood in yellow cursive. He rapped his fist against the door, hoping the sound would somehow be heard through the chatter in the hall, the band playing above them. 

“Come in–” a voice sang from the other side, and Gerard turned the knob slowly, his eyes narrowed as he entered and scanned the room for the velvety voice. The door opened up only to a red curtain directly in front of his face

“Mistress Delilah?” He asked, craning his neck to see if he could peek beyond the curtain.

“1000 Reichsmark.” She responded from beyond the veil. Gerard furrowed his brow, reaching into his wallet. Money was not the object, it was the fact that he didn’t even know what he was paying for. Surely she sensed his hesitation, as he could sense her body drawing closer to the curtain, and her hand slid out, skin covered in shiny black leather gloves, her fingers slowly uncurling as she held her palm open. “For 1000… I tie you up. And you may choose, what it is we do from the box. Thirty minutes. My clothes stay on.”

Gerard’s mouth went dry, not even thinking about what it is he wanted, but that her voice was smooth like caramel and he hadn’t been tied up in many centuries, and he so needed someone to control him, to tell him what to do, how to be useful. He placed the wad of paper bills into her hand. She pulled back quickly, before pulling aside the curtain and beckoning him inside the warm glow of her “dungeon”-- really, it was no more than a walk in utility closet that had been decorated with the red curtains and several warm oil lamps. In the center of the room was a maroon leather bench, stained and worn, with crude leather strap restraints hanging off of the side. 

“Strip.” Delilah demanded, sauntering over to a shelf which held her infamous toybox. Gerard stared at her, his heart racing as he took in the scent of her blood, the leather, her perfume. She was much taller than him, her long, muscular legs embraced by a pair of thigh-high leather boots, her hair was a blunt and angular black bob, and her brown eyes sparkled through a smudging of jewel-blue eyeliner that complemented her honey-golden skin. She wore a tight leather corset, her waist unbelievably small but the rest of her body plump, the peaks of her breasts spilling out of the cups. He did as he was told, unbuttoning his silk black shirt and his trousers and dropping them to the floor. The room was cold, and he held his hands over his cock.

“Why are you covering?” She asked without turning to face him, focused on setting out a tray of toys for Gerard to choose from. 

“I just… I’ve never really done this… Before…” Gerard trailed off, trying to get a closer look at what she was laying out, trying to remember how to behave.

“Hands at your side, and come here.” Gerard nodded and obeyed, hanging his head as he approached. His opalescent cock hung between his legs, the warmth radiating from her body causing it to twitch and begin to grow. She looked down and smiled, baring her teeth at him. Even when flaccid, he knew his size was impressive. “Fun.” She sang, “This is what you can choose from tonight, pretty boy. You pick one. We play for… 25 minutes, now. Or until you cum. You want more, you give me another 500 Reichsmark. Understand?”

Gerard nodded, his eyes wide as he looked at the tray in front of him. A dildo, a cat o’ nine tails, a spiked skin roller, and a massager. He’d heard of electric vibrators, but this was his first time seeing them… His eyes darted between the four options, his mind foggy with all of the different ways each one could be used. 

“That one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You like blood?”

“Yes.”

She tied him on his back to the bench, her touch gentle but the restraints tight. He’d asked for them to be that way, in case her own skin broke and her own blood spilled, so he would be able to truly restrain himself. By the time he was settled in his restraints, his cock was already hard, the tip wet with anticipatory precum. She paced around the bench several times, like a lionness circling her prey, examining Gerard, his skin smooth and pearly white, almost glistening under the oil lamps illuminating the room. The sound of the leather tails on the whip slithered into his ear, and his body shivered with anticipation. Delilah knelt down next to Gerard, her tongue slipping into his ear, tracing the cartilage.

“You lied to me, pretty boy.”

“Wh- What?” Gerard strained against the leather, his cock throbbing. Just fucking touch me, please.

“Hmmm…” Her tongue continued to trace along his ear and his neck, a leather-clad hand reaching for his cock, stroking slowly and squeezing at the tip, eliciting a sharp inhale from Gerard. He was so ecstatic at her touch that he didn’t even realize she was standing over him now, her other hand drawn back, ready to strike–

WHACK

A sharp pain on Gerard’s cock as the leather whip struck him, and his whole body recoiled against his restraints, yelping and collapsing in on himself. 

“Good boy…” She purred, running her fingertips along his shaft, now sensitive and burning a hot-pink hue. “More?”

“Yes… Mistress…” He whimpered, hips thrusting into the air involuntarily. She met this movement with another hard crack of the whip, its tails striking his stomach as they collided against his skin, leaving harsh red lines marked along his groin. Tears were streaming down his face as he struggled against the force of the leather. She reached her free hand down again to continue to jerk him off, the leather was slick now with her spit, and he started fucking into her fist, whining and moaning through the pain, and as he gained a rhythm, she pulled her hand away again.

“Let’s play a game, pretty boy.” She ran the whip through her hands. “However many strikes you can count, that’s how many strokes you get to cum in. Does that sound fair?”

Gerard looked up at her through his sweat-soaked hair, his heavy breath slowing down. “Yes… Mistress…” She smiled down at him, raising the whip into the air, and–

CRACK

“One…” Gerard groaned.

SNAP

“Two…”

WHACK

“Three!”

WHIP

“Oh, fuck! Four! Four!” she was giving him no time to recover now from each strike upon his dick, which was twitching as the skin on his stomach started to break, beads of blood forming and staining his body as the whip continued to trace along his body between blows.

SMMMAAACK

“FIVE!” Gerard yelled, his body shuddering and his cock began to leak cum, rather than exploding in one orgasm. He started sobbing, his body overstimulated from all of the pain and pleasure at once, and Delilah’s whip indeed did come down on him again, and he cried out against the sound of leather on wet skin, pulling against his restraints.

“Oh!” Delilah laughed as her whip pulled up strings of semen and blood as she readied herself for the next blow. “Pretty boy!” She set the whip down and began to untie his restraints, then reached for a towel, softly wiping the cum and blood from his stomach. 

“I… Uh… Fuck…” Gerard finally breathed, his whole body trembling. “I thought I could go more than five…”

Chapter Text

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Frank purred into Gerard’s ear, his fingers dancing along his chest, tracing the outline of the bralette. Frank’s body was snuggled up tight against Gerard, who was deflated against the couch, his legs still spread, his panties still hanging to the side and his nylons still wrapped around his legs. Just the simple word fuck caused his dick to harden, pushing against the fabric of his underwear.

“Mmmm…” Gerard giggled and reached for Frank’s face, cupping his cheek and planting a heavy, wet kiss on his lips, his tongue immediately wrapping around Frank’s. As he pulled away, he softly bit Frank’s lip– not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel out if Frank was receptive to the biting. Frank responded with a kiss of his own, his teeth catching on Gerard’s bottom lip and pulling, teasing him. Gerard grinned as he pulled away, his stomach stirring, a pang of hunger hitting him deep in his gut. Another kiss, and his fangs poked out from their sheaths, nicking the inside of Frank’s lip, breaking the skin. A small bead of blood oozed from the cut onto Gerard’s tongue, and he swallowed as he pulled away.

“Ow…” Frank laughed, mindlessly going in for another kiss. Gerard sucked on his bottom lip as their lips pressed together, forcing out small spurts of blood and drinking them like water. His blood was rich, sweet and warm, like hot cocoa, like melted marshmallows sprinkled with flaky salt. It was divine.

When the wound was spent, Gerard pulled away, his hand caressing Frank’s plump face. He looked like such a dad. He wondered what he thought of him, if he thought he was a overly-wealthy trust fund kid who got off on fucking hot dads, or someone his age with an incredible skincare routine, or if Frank had yet caught on to Gerard’s peculiarities.

The truth was, Frank really didn’t give a fuck who Gerard was– he just wanted to fuck him. It had been his obsession since the night at the leather bar: Gerard. He asked everyone he knew, from the kids who handed out flyers for hardcore shows to the bartenders at his job, even online message boards. Do you know anyone named Gerard?

“You’re fucking amazing.” Frank breathed, placing his hand on top of Gerard’s, his gaze fixated onto Gerard’s hazel eyes. Gerard smiled, the sound of Frank’s pulse heavy in his ears. “Who are you?”

“I’m Gerard,” He laughed, taking Frank’s hand to his mouth and delicately kissing his fingers one by one.

“No… Like. What do you do? Where did you come from? How come I’ve never seen you around before?”

“I’m…” Gerard hesitated, his lips barely grazing the letters tattooed on Frank’s knuckles. “I’m from here. And I’m a lot of things.”

“Okay...” Frank laughed, “How do you afford this apartment?”

Gerard shrugged, averting his gaze. “Family.”

“Where’s your family from?”

“Italy…”

“Oh… Study abroad?” Frank asked, his body tensing up at the idea that he was fucking a college student right now. Gerard looked up and scrunched his face in disapproval.

“You ask too many questions, Frankie.” He sighed, collapsing back into the sofa. 

“I just want to get to know you more…” Frank lay down at Gerard’s side.

“You can... You just need patience… Come. Let’s go to bed.”

Gerard’s decoy bedroom was more so a lair of fabrics, a cocoon where one could curl up all day, with a book or a lover. In the center of the room’s four deep violet velvet tufted walls was a circular bed whose frame matched the same velvet tufting, covered in layers of black silk sheets and a thick fur blanket on top. The ceiling of the room was mirrored, but the lights were dim enough and the patina heavy enough that no one could really tell that Gerard’s reflection wasn’t present– but Gerard loved the view, watching his partners writhe under a phantom force.

“I’m an artist.” Gerard explained, removing his clothes and lingerie and tossing them to the corner of the room. “You’ve probably seen my work in MoMA… Or the Whitney.” Truthfully, Gerard's paintings and sculptures could be found at nearly any museum in the city, from Italian Gothic collections to the hottest galleries in SoHo. He pushed Frank to the foot of the bed and tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal Frank’s chest and stomach. 

“Impressive… Maybe you can take me sometime,” Frank looked up and down at Gerard’s body, and mindlessly his big hands took Gerard’s cock in their grasp, slowly pumping up and down.

“Mmmm… You’re good at that.” Gerard moaned, throwing his head back, enjoying Frank’s hand for a few moments, until his cock was sufficiently hard. “Lie back for me, Frankie.” Gerard pulled away and started pulling off Frank’s pants, huffing against the crotch of his underwear, inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne, giggling to himself at the thought of Frank spritzing cologne onto his groin before heading out on the town. Slut.

Gerard placed his open mouth over the black cotton fabric covering Frank’s half-hard dick, moaning softly, the vibrations sending a shiver down Frank’s spine. Gerard pulled Frank’s briefs off, licking his lips as Frank’s dick sprang up from the waistband. Gerard ran his tongue along the bottom of Frank’s shaft, and Frank moaned underneath him.

“Gerard…” 

Gerard smiled before taking Frank’s length in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down slowly, letting the tip of Frank’s dick hit the back of his throat, Frank’s fingers tangled in Gerard’s hair. Gerard pulled away for a moment, looking up at Frank’s lust-drunk gaze with a grin.

“How much prep do you think you need, baby?” He asked, propping Frank’s legs up on the bed, examining Frank’s asshole– tight but not virgin by any means, pink, a light layer of hair circling the hole. 

“Mmm…” Frank whined, writhing under Gerard– he couldn’t think straight, he just wanted him inside. “I only… Have a small plug at home…” Gerard nodded, and produced a bottle of lube from under the bed, the clear liquid cool against Frank’s hole. Gerard slowly inserted one finger, hooking up towards Frank’s prostate. “Fuck, that feels so good…” Frank breathed, Gerard working his finger in and out of the hole in a rhythmic, circular motion.

“Ready for another?” Frank nodded in response, and Gerard inserted his index and middle fingers, forcing his way in against the tension of Frank’s tight hole. In and out, in and out. “How many fingers have you taken before, Frankie?”

“A whole fist,” Frank laughed through the stretching. His dick had started twitching and throbbing, and he thought it best to start jerking himself off, slowly as if he was afraid he might get caught. 

“Mmm… I wish I could’ve seen that.” Gerard purred, adding his ring finger to the mix, and he began stroking his own cock at the same pace, his mouth watering as he watched his fingers disappear inside of Frank. “Are you ready for my dick, baby?” Frank nodded in response.

Gerard pushed Frank deeper into the center of the bed and climbed over him, his cool body leeching the heat from Frank’s. Frank wrapped his legs around Gerard’s waist, leaning up to kiss him in another sloppy mess of tongues and saliva, their cocks rubbing against each other. Gerard pulled away, and positioned himself at Frank’s hole. He poured another drop of lubricant onto the head of his cock, and ran his fingers over Frank’s entrance one last time.

“Are you sure you're ready?”

“Yes… I need you to fuck me, Gerard.” Frank moaned, his dick moving on its own, as if it was searching for something to fuck into. Gerard smiled, his expression breaking into a deep moan as his cock slid into Frank’s hole, his walls tightening around him.

“You’re… So tight.” Gerard pulled back, then he thrust in again slowly, his hands gripping Frank’s love handles so tight he felt he might leave a bruise. As Frank’s ass adapted to the girth of Gerard’s cock, he found a rhythm, albeit a slower pace than their bathroom quickie, but the anticipation of it all only turned them both on even more, Gerard pulling out completely at times to tease Frank’s hole with the tip of his dick, making Frank beg.

“Fuck me, Gerard… I need you inside me… I’m your fuck hole… Use me, Gerard…”

Gerard was on top of Frank now, his face buried in his neck as he thrust, hard and deep into Frank’s hole. Gerard grunted with each thrust, drinking in Frank’s moans and yelps, peppering his neck and his collarbone with soft kisses. 

“I’m gonna… Cum… Gerard…” Frank moaned between thrusts, his nails digging into Gerard’s back. 

“That’s okay baby… Can you handle it while I keep fucking you?” Gerard hummed into Frank’s ear, not really wanting to stop, but to go deeper, to fuck Frank for hours and hours until his blood was silky smooth and even sweeter than before.

“Yea, I– Uuuhh– Hnnggg— Fuck!” Frank whined as Gerard continued to fuck him, his cock erupting without anyone’s touch, ropes of cum painting his stomach. “Gerard! Oh my God… Fuck…” Gerard couldn’t help himself, he needed one more thrust, maybe two, or three or–

“Ouuugghhh… Fuck! Fuck!” Frank winced, his hole and his cock overly sensitive now, his legs closing in on themselves and forcing out Gerard’s cock. Gerard took a deep breath in and knelt over Frank’s body as he started finishing himself off, his fist slick with Frank’s sweat. He groaned softly as he came, dripping onto Frank’s body below him, before falling onto the bed next to him. Frank, still panting, reached his arm over to snuggle back into Gerard’s body. 

“You’re incredible.” He sighed, his eyes half-closed, exhausted from how his body was just spent. “I haven’t gotten fucked like that in… Ever? You’re just… Amazing.”

Gerard laughed, kissing Frank’s forehead, and then his cheek, and then his neck. “You’re pretty amazing too, Frankie…” He began sucking on the flesh on Frank’s neck above his collarbone.

“A hickey?” Frank laughed, “I have work tomorrow, you know…”

“It’s okay… Just don’t worry about it…” Gerard purred before going back to the skin on his neck, his fangs dragging softly against the skin. Softly, but without warning, Gerard’s fangs pierced the side of Frank’s neck, and Frank let out a short gasp, before the feeling of his blood rushing out of the puncture wounds caused a wave of pleasure to wash over him, his body relaxing and a moan escaping his lips. Gerard drank from Frank for only a few minutes, being careful as to not push him to the edge, but relishing in that smooth, delectable taste of his blood, rivers of it travelling down his throat, his senses becoming overwhelmed with its gourmand taste and smell.

“Gerard…” Frank moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Frankie–

Gone to work for the day. Feel free to make yourself as home as long as you’d like.

Xoxo

Gerard~

Frank woke up the next morning to an empty bed, and this note on the bedside table. The mid-morning light flooded in through the windows, offering a view of Central Park just as its leaves were starting to turn. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep, only that he was wrapped in Gerard’s frigid embrace, his head swimming with dreams of him and his creamy thighs, the way his sweat-soaked hair clung to his face… Fuck. He was obsessed.

Frank rubbed the sleep from his eyes and slowly got out of the bed, stretching his body, his joints cracking as his feet touched the cool hardwood floor. In the daytime, the opulence of the apartment was even more apparent. Frank sauntered around the apartment in his boxers, nosily eyeing Gerard’s collection of books, records and cassette tapes… It was like a library, or the world’s strangest record store. Bands Frank had never even heard of, lyrics in languages he couldn’t understand, from places that didn’t exist anymore. 

Frank made his way into the kitchen, which he found to be surprisingly barren for someone with such wealth. A fruit bowl stood empty on the island counter, the cupboards devoid of plates or bowls, just various mismatched glasses and goblets, the fridge lined only with bottles of sparkling water and Diet Coke. Maybe Gerard was the kind of rich person who never ate in his house, or maybe he was a vampire– his neck was a little sore. Frank laughed at the idea, chuckling to himself as he poked through each shelf. Well, at least there was coffee. 

Frank sat cross-legged on the same couch he’d been straddled on the night before, nursing his cup of coffee. His phone started to buzz, still sitting on the coffee table where it had been left the night before. His close friend Tucker was calling.

“Hey, what’s up man?” 

“Hey brother, listen– woah, you sound chipper this morning. Did you get laid or something?”

“Something like that.” Frank giggled into the phone like a schoolgirl. 

“Nice! Who was it?”

“Well, remember that guy I was telling you about from the leather bar?”

Frank poured out every dirty detail to Tucker, gushing about his newfound crush, the best of his life, how good Gerard looked in a skirt, and how he had left such a sweet note for him, and he was wondering if he should wait for him to come back to the house, if he should cook dinner for him… And Gerard was listening to it all, watching from behind the bookshelves.

Ever the collector, Gerard knew that an expansive library was necessary for his prized possessions, and so it was decided that one would wrap around the entire apartment’s center, a continuous loop of deep mahogany shelving. Of course, more than one shelf acted as a secret door which he could use to access his coffin, which lay in the center of the interior room, protecting him and his unsuspecting houseguests from discovering his true form– as if the walk-in freezer and its store of bloodbags wasn’t concerning enough. 

There weren’t so many guests nowadays, as many of the great artists and partiers of New York’s heyday had died, or fled to sunny Los Angeles… But there was a time when each couch would be strewn with party guests, human and inhuman, weekends when the party didn’t stop until Tuesday’s sunrise. Naturally, Gerard needed to watch if he couldn’t partake in the festivities, installing peepholes in all four walls– one viewing the living room, another the kitchen, his bedroom, and finally his master bathroom. Of course, his intentions with this were not malicious. He just often found it difficult to fall asleep when other people were in his home. 

And now, he knew for certain that Frankie had a little… a big crush on him. His lips curled into a smile, tracing the wood grain with his fingers as he watched Frank in his boxers, his legs open, his bulge showing through the cotton fabric, his laugh, the way he was blushing over the phone. God it was so cute. His mind raced with all the things he wanted to do to him, his teeth in that neck, breaking the flesh, leaving scars on his tattoos so they’d never look quite right, his body forever marked as Gerard’s, unless decay and dirt got to him first. It had already begun– indeed, there were two small sores in Frank’s neck where Gerard had fed from him the night before. And it seemed like, despite all the rolling of his neck that Frank had been doing while on the phone, he hadn’t noticed yet.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in Jersey tonight.” 

Gerard’s heart sank. He’d heard Frank mention that Gerard hadn’t left his phone number for him while he was away, but the truth was, he didn’t even own a cellphone– he figured that if anything was that important, whoever needed to speak to him could send him an email, or they could show up at his house. After all, he already went this long without a cellphone. But for the first time in a long time, Gerard felt like… Well, fuck. He did want to see Frank again, he didn’t want to leave it up to chance. Not just because his blood was some of the best he’d had in years, but Frank was cute, he was sweet, he knew how to work his tongue… Gerard wanted to keep him around. He thought about running out of the secret room, pleading with him to stay– but the curtains had all been drawn open, and the exposure would surely singe his skin. 

Instead, Gerard opted to slithering along the walls of the room as Frank walked away, eager to catch the next glimpse of him. In the kitchen, he was scribbling something on a piece of paper, searching for a magnet to attach it to the fridge with… His muscles flexed and pulled as he reached up into shelves, his belly poking over his boxers, jiggling as he walked… And now he was gone, in the bedroom now, collecting his clothes from the floor, and sauntering into the bathroom… Gerard’s bathroom was expansive, a clawfoot tub overlooking a window out to the city street, heated floors of shiny black tile, a double vanity, and a waterfall shower. Now, Gerard would never admit this… But he did choose to put the peephole in direct view of the shower. Sometimes he just liked to watch. Gerard felt like showers and toilets were some of the most vulnerable places a human could be. Whether relishing in the soothing steam and scalding hot water, or retching over the porcelain bowl. 

He only wanted to watch Frank be human.

Frank stripped off his underwear, and examined himself in the mirror, his brow furrowing as he finally noticed the two small purple and red bruises on his neck. Maybe Gerard really did leave a hickey last night. Maybe he was okay with that, even though he knew his friends and coworkers would immediately rag on him once they saw. His dick was small when it was flaccid, almost hiding beneath his gut and between his thighs. But as he turned around and walked past the peephole, Gerard felt his breath hitch at the sight of it– so vulnerable, so delicate. So delicious.

Frank fumbled with the shower and the room filled with steam, fogging up Gerard’s view. He cursed under his breath, craning his head to get a better view of Frank. The water poured over his head, running down his body in cascades, and he pushed back his hair, revealing a tattoo on his crown… God damn it. The pressure in Gerard’s pants was growing, his cock pushing up against the satin fabric, screaming to be let out, and he mindlessly started palming it over the fabric. The shower was fully stocked with an array of fancy Parisian shampoos, body washes, body scrubs, oils… And Frank was taking advantage as if he was staying at a hotel. 

Orange-scented suds covered his body, blanketing him in a sweet and tangy cocoon. As he massaged the soap into his skin, he tugged at his limp cock, if only for a moment. He couldn’t help but think about Gerard in this shower, pressing him against the wall and fucking him, or they could switch… Or Gerard in the shower alone, jerking off, his cum slipping down the drain. Or Gerard in the bathroom, applying body oil to his long legs, and slipping on a pair of delicate lace panties over his cock. Fuck.

Frank was hard now, and the suds had all but washed away… But the heat of the water felt too good, and he was in a rhythm now, and he let the water fall over him as he stroked his dick, using his other hand to squeeze on his balls, and he shut his eyes, trying to remember the warmth of Gerard’s mouth on his cock in the bathroom.

Gerard from behind the peephole was on his knees now, vigorously jerking off, fucking into his fist, clenching and squeezing, trying to imitate the feeling of Frank’s asshole. Watching him through the peephole felt so perverted, so violating… He wondered if Frank noticed the small holes in the shelves in the other rooms, or the gap in the tiles in here. What if Frank knew? What if that’s why he was masturbating in his shower?

Frank moaned a strained, “Gerard…” as he continued to stroke, his thumb pressing against the swollen tip, his precum trailing after him each time only to be washed away by the water. Gerard’s hips buckled as he heard this, and he tried to stabilize himself with his free against the wall, his dick throbbing. He stopped for a moment only to spit into his palm, but he got right back to it, muttering to himself as he stroked.

“Frankie… God your fucking ass feels so good… I’m gonna fucking fill you with my cum… You fucking slut… I’m gonna fill you… I’m gonna fill you and then I’m gonna drain you…”

Frank whined as he jerked off, trying to take breaks so that he could last longer. His hair clung to his face, the hot water becoming almost suffocating as his body temperature rose, the tension in his cock growing and his hole clenching, as if it were tightening around a cock that wasn’t there.

“Need you… To fuck me…” He grunted, his head down now, his arm pressed against the wall of the shower, his eyes squeezed shut, images of Gerard in his head. Fuck, why was he so beautiful? Sexy? Strange? 

Gerard laughed quietly as he heard Frank’s moans, it was like they were in the same room, like they were doing this together. And well, they were. But only Gerard knew that.

“Ah! Gerard! Fuck!” Frank yelped, his hips thrusting into his hand as his cum dripped out onto the floor, slithering down the drain with the rest of the water. He looked so beautiful like that, that moment of ecstasy, when the only thing that mattered was the orgasm… Gerard watched like a hawk, feeling himself close to finishing as well, his cock throbbing and his hand movements uneven… He was sloppy, he was needy. He wished Frank knew he was here, he wished that he could–

“Fuck!” Gerard cursed as he came into his hand, the thick sticky white substance caking his palm, falling onto the floor and disappearing into the dark of the room. Frank, who was just stepping out of the shower, scrunched his face. He had heard Gerard’s voice from behind the shelf, but he was sure he was just hearing things. Gerard backed away from the peephole as Frank drew closer, his eyebrow raised and his lips pursed. Slowly, he slipped away into his coffin, spent from the marathon of sex and stalking.

Gerard awoke once the sun had set, and he immediately dashed to the kitchen to read the note Frank had left him. Scribbled on the paper was a doodle of a bat and a phone number, with a note which read: 

G–

Call me! 

Frankie