Word Count 1645
MCR GSF set in the KillJoys universe. With thanks to greedy_dancer for reassurance and themoononastick for beta reading.
Gerard puts his foot down and goes. Tires burning up rubber on cracked asphalt, and dust in his throat. The windows of the Trans Am are down, the radio blaring and he screams as he drives at a Draculoid, their eyes locking as it impacts against the hood and windshield, leaving behind dark smudges and spidery cracks.
Ray’s hanging out the passenger seat window, knee on torn leather and one arm braced against the support of the door. He swears as he fires, the whir/crackle of his raygun underpinned by spat words.
“There! To the left!” Ray yells and Gerard twists the wheel violently, hands clenched and teeth gritted as the Trans Am spins in a cloud of dirt and smoke. He can see where Ray’s looking, Mikey and Frank back to back, their guns out and firing at the circling Dracs.
Closer, and the Trans Am lurches to one side, Gerard tasting blood, his sharp incisors biting into his tongue as they hit a half-hidden rock, Gerard swallows but never eases the speed.
“Fuck you all,” Gerard screams, Draculoids jumping to the sides as he plows through their midst and parks with a screech. “Get in!”
Already Frank and Mikey are moving, Frank firing off shots as Mikey pulls open the door and scrambles inside. His breath echoes from inside his helmet and there’s a burn scorched across the back of his hand and under his bracelet, on show as he aims out of the back window, careful not to impede Ray’s line of fire.
“Go, go, go!” Frank hurls himself inside, his mask twisted and then yanked off as he slams the door and kneels on the back seat, picking off the regrouping Dracs.
Gerard drives, his heart thumping and skin crawling, destination anywhere but here.
They stop when Gerard’s sure they’re safe from roaming hostiles. The diner’s close by but it’s too soon to go back, not when they’re all so antsy. Adrenalin burning and Gerard’s hands shake as he eases their speed and comes to a stop.
He’s used to the close-calls, all zone runners are, but that doesn’t help the sickening fear of realizing Mikey and Frank had gone missing, remembered terror fueling exhilaration and Gerard doesn’t protest when Ray turns in his seat, curves his hand over Gerard’s jaw and says, “Out.”
They’ve stopped off the road, the Trans Am and their clothes the only spots of colour in an otherwise bleak wasteland of sand and dirt. Gerard’s eyes feel gritty and he blinks and holds onto the car for support, the silence sudden and overwhelming.
Mikey’s on the other side of the Trans Am and he runs his hand through his hair and looks over the roof at Gerard. There’s fading red marks on Mikey’s forehead and the burn on his hand is angry, the skin shiny and taut. He keeps looking at Gerard, expression closed off as always but Gerard relaxes, knowing Mikey’s okay.
Frank too, and Gerard nearly smiles when Frank winks as he stands next to Mikey. Momentarily they’re still, and then Mikey’s moving, deliberate and smooth as he turns to Frank and hooks his finger over the bandanna wrapped around Frank’s neck. They don’t talk, they don’t have to, each slight gesture as effective as actual words. Gerard the onlooker to a scene that he knows off by heart, a voyeur for now and he takes a step back, knowing Ray will be waiting.
“Don’t.” Ray wraps his arms around Gerard, holding him close. Ray’s hair brushes against the side of Gerard’s face and Gerard rests his hands on Ray’s arms where they’re crossed over his chest. It’s a position that feels like safety, Gerard able to give away control for this moment. Ray’s mouth is close to Gerard’s ear and he says, “Just watch.”
Watching Mikey and Frank is a mixture of relief, familiarity and stirring desire. It’s the beginning of an inevitable outcome and Gerard tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck and inhaling sharply at the scrape of Ray’s teeth. He’s lick-biting over the line of red dye and Gerard’s eyes flutter as he watches Frank jump, wrapping his legs around Mikey’s waist and clinging on as Mikey moves to the hood of the Trans Am.
It’s one of their favourite places and Gerard loves the aesthetics of bodies against metal, bright clothes and sun-faded paint. Mikey’s knees impact against the grill and he unclasps his hands, Frank landing with a bump, laughing as he grabs hold of Mikey’s hair and pulls.
“Every fucking time,” Ray says, his voice pitched low and amused but Gerard can feel how he’s turned on, how Ray’s pressing himself against Gerard’s back, his breathing quickening as Mikey and Frank kiss.
It’s a messy kiss, hard and demanding and Frank’s knuckles are white, the blond strands of Mikey’s hair wrapped tight and bright against the grime and inked colour of Frank’s fingers. Gerard takes in that contrast, another layered memory against the picture as a whole. The battered and scuffed leather of Frank’s boots where he’s got his feet hooked behind Mikey’s back, how Mikey’s raygun is pushed at an angle, the holster cutting harsh lines around his thigh. The semi clean trail that snakes over Frank’s jaw and how it’s shiny with spit.
They’re vibrant and alive, energy and movement against surrounding dead land and Gerard tightens his hold on Ray’s arms when Mikey pushes Frank back so he’s lying on the hood, knees bent and feet braced. It doesn’t look like a comfortable position at all. Mikey’s up on his tiptoes, bent over and held close by Frank’s grip on his hair. They’re still kissing the best that they can, mouths crushed together as Mikey grabs hold of Frank’s hands and pulls them free, strands of hair blowing in the wind as Mikey forces down Frank’s arms, pinning them as he climbs onto the hood.
It takes a while. They’re both impatient and Mikey’s knees keep slipping, bone hitting against metal and Gerard would wince except for how they’re so obviously needy, their desperation contagious as finally Mikey’s straddling Frank, folded over and holding him down. Mikey’s eyes narrowed and mouth slightly open as Frank tries to push himself up, grinding against Mikey.
Ray shudders, says, “Want to get in on that?”
“Fuck, yeah.” The need to get close is a physical thing and Gerard feels like he’s burning up from the inside as Ray walks them forward until Gerard’s pressed against the side of the Trans Am. Trapped between Ray’s body and unyielding metal, Gerard shivers and groans, sound pulled from deep in his throat.
He sounds wanton, enough that it should be embarrassing but as one both Mikey and Frank look his way, the connection that binds them all so painfully powerful that it’s a relief when Ray reaches out and takes one of Frank’s hands from Mikey, and Mikey straightens and then twists so he can get close to Gerard.
And this is something that’s never been wrong, through the wars and the revolution, Mikey Gerard’s only constant and it’s Ray that keeps Gerard upright when Mikey moves in for a kiss.
His mouth tastes of blood and dust, something else that resonates as Frank. Fingers clutching, Gerard grabs hold of Mikey’s t-shirt, material bunched and knuckles pushed against Mikey’s ribs, over bone and skin and flesh, his heart that’s still beating.
Gerard wants to push himself into Mikey, be one with his body and keep him constantly safe. He licks into his mouth and their teeth clatter together, fresh blood oozing from always dry lips. Lapping up this moisture, Gerard’s moving his hips, frustrated at being pinned so tight.
Ray again, and suddenly Gerard has a little more room. Knees buckling he opens his eyes and sees that Ray’s got his fingers in Frank’s mouth, Frank’s tongue flashing into view as he licks at the webbing and knuckles. His cheeks hollowed and Frank keeps sucking while grinding up against Mikey, additional dents appearing in the hood of the car as Frank digs in his heels as Ray moves his hand, allowing Frank to spit into his palm.
Briefly saliva glistens, stringing between Frank’s lips and Ray’s hand, and then Ray’s making a fist, the only warning before Ray shoves his hand down the front of Gerard’s pants, speed always a concern when they’re out in plain view. It’s a bad angle, Gerard’s pants are tight and Ray can barely move his hand, but it’s enough. Gerard hips snapping forward as he whimpers into Mikey’s mouth.
Caught between the feel of Mikey’s tongue, the way Ray’s twisting his hand, Gerard’s attention is spun out and spiralling and he’s unsurprised when someone takes hold of his hand. He can’t see who it is but knows that it’s Frank, not only by the familiarity of touch, calluses on palm and fingertips, the way their fingers are so easily entwined, but also by the final snap of connection, all four touching in some way.
It’s that feeling that keeps them together, love and strength and support. Ever present and stronger with numbers, even with that one place missing for the one that remains lost.
“Gee.” Mikey’s pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting together and Mikey’s breath is sour, his skin filthy and filmed with dust. “End this.”
Gerard isn’t sure that he can. His control is non-existent, any authority given out and shared as Ray increases his pace and Frank tightens his hold, breathing hard and knees spread wide while Mikey himself is still; waiting for Gerard.
It’s almost too much, seeing them here, safe, and Gerard nods, whispers, ‘love you’ before meeting Mikey for a final, bruising kiss. The final element, as fire roars through Gerard’s body, bone dry and brutal.
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Tags: my stories:bandom