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“I think I got a camcorder just like that lyin’ around here..” Gerard’s voice is tight as he passes you the joint, the smoke expanding inside his lungs until he lets it waft out in a cloud behind him as he gets up off the bed. “Let me see…”
The television is the only source of light in Gerard’s bedroom on the lower floor of the house and the second he’s off the bed, you start to feel a little nervous, fighting the urge to let your eyes flit to every dark corner of the room. You’ve been marathoning horror movies all night and while you’re not usually a wuss, there’s something about the handheld a-la-Blair-Witch camera angles in this one that keeps you jumpy. Like you can’t predict what can happen in the narrow point of view as opposed to a full landscape.
You’ll take a smaller sized puff off the joint next time, thinking that may be the culprit. Meanwhile, dart your gaze back and forth between Gerard and the television - the vague silhouette of his sweatshirt-clad shoulders while he fumbles around versus the shaky found footage film that seems to only make the shadows flicker and pulse about the room. There’s already enough going on in here with his unkempt closet, pictures and posters on the walls, comics, action figures and who knows what else cluttering the place.
“Finding anything?” you ask, hoping you don’t sound too impatient. Back on the TV, the domestic couple finds creepy demon-like footprints on the floor and start arguing - inevitably and foolishly deciding to investigate them in the dark. And you’re left feeling just a smidge too vulnerable alone on the big bed. In the dark. Where something could jump out and get you.
“Yeah, lemme just -” there’s a few choice grunts, emitting from both Gerard and a crooked dresser drawer that’s evidently rusty on its tracks. It finally gives with one more yank and there’s some rustling around before he stands upright, sounding victorious. “Alright!” he chuckles. “Let’s see if she’s got any juice.”
“Okay, get back here, please,” you whine. The couple’s in the attic now and as a rule of thumb you avoid attics at all costs. Yeah, maybe you watch too many horror movies, but attics are downright creepy.
“You scared, baby?”
“No,” you pout stubbornly. But then realize you’ve barely moved since he got off the bed. Posture exactly the same, propped against some pillows and the joint nearly going out from being left untouched. You take that tiny puff to keep it lit before passing it back to him - only to find Gerard’s got the camcorder held up to his face with the little side monitor flipped out and at the ready. In the blue-grey haze from the TV, you catch his shit-eating grin shining beneath it. The sight manages to break the tension a little. “Unless you’re gonna be a creep with that thing.”
He ignores the comment as he gets back onto the bed, sidestepping your legs on his knees to hover above you while experimenting with the buttons. “I think it works okay.”
“I’m so glad.”
Gerard puffs from the joint and lets it dangle at the corner of his mouth.
“Show me your tits.”
He barely gets the words out before falling into a fit of raspy giggles and you roll your eyes, smacking his leg. “No way, you pervert.”
“C’mon, sugar, not even a little bit of action?” He moves further up on the bed to straddle you, dark hair falling into his eyes. He’s a welcome distraction to worrying on whether or not there’s ghosts in this house, but it’s impossible to take him seriously the way he can’t stop grinning. Like he’s playing with a new toy. “Just a little bit a’ soft core? Lemme test this zoom.”
“Hmmm..” Your heart rate’s picked up a little; a mix of the high and feeling scared and Gerard making you sigh in feigned contemplation. You walk your fingertips up along one of his thighs, give the drawstring of his pajama pants a playful tug. “This bad boy gonna be my co-star?”
A sexy noise resonates from the back of his throat but he barely gets the chance to respond. Blaring screams erupt from the television, human and non-human alike and you lurch between Gerard’s legs. You were just starting to forget the damn movie and now you look over in time to see the woman getting dragged down a flight of stairs by some invisible force.
“Jesus, that scared me,” you huff, setting a hand over your chest. Then almost immediately shriek at the actual thudding resounding from the floor upstairs. You sit up so fast you smack your forehead into the camera. “Ow, fuck!”
“Shit, sorry.” Gerard stills you, hand blindly covering your mouth to shush you. He’s staring up at the ceiling; he heard the noise too.
“I thought the house was supposed to be empty,” you whisper-yell. The thought of ghosts and demons comes rushing back to your mind even though you know that’s insane… Right?
“It’s supposed to be,” he murmurs quietly. But then the noise starts up again and you both scatter - Gerard looking for the TV remote, stumbling to the ashtray to put the joint out, camera forgotten while you practically fall off the bed, struggling to find balance amid the mess on the floor. “Gerard, I swear to god if this house is haunted, I am never coming back.”
He laughs, actually laughs and you almost swear at him when you’re blinded with a bright light as he flicks a flashlight on. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You do curse at him then. “Baby.” You look at him, he’s standing next to the bed with both hands raised defensively. “We’ve been watching scary movies for hours.” Then adds almost as an afterthought - “And we’re very high.”
He has a point there and you sigh, posture relaxing, until you realize the way more realistic reason there could be noises upstairs. “... Is your door locked?”
Gerard’s already on the move. “Let me just take a look-”
“Don’t you dare leave me down here.” You trail after him and he’s thoughtful enough to take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The both of you just about make it to the stairs before you double back for a - a fucking tee-ball bat would have to do.
You both slowly make your way up the stairs, careful on the steps that creak. You’re thinking of that stupid movie again and relent to the idea that this is total paranoia. There’s no ghost on the other side of that door, definitely no demon. Just maybe possibly some idiot you were totally gonna clock once Gerard got the door open. Your palm grows sweaty around the stem of the bat just thinking about it.
Once you’ve reached the top of the stairs, he gives you one last glance and you nod, raising the bat over the shoulder ready to let it fly. Even Gerard wields the flashlight, gripping it tight as footsteps sound near the door and he shoves it open.
“Oh shit!”
“Dude - what the fuck!”
“What the fuck, Mikey!”
“Yo, put the fuckin’ bat down!”
“Fuck you!”
“Alright, everybody chill!”
It was fucking Mikey. Mikey and three random cronies that flank him on either side, all tensed and recoiling in self defense, all practically unrecognizable in costume; globs of skeleton makeup, streaks of blood, and plastic fangs. They look about as startled as you feel.
“Dude.” Gerard says, letting the flashlight drop. “What the fuck.”
“Me?” Much like his older brother, it is generally very hard taking Mikey seriously, especially when he’s lisping around those plastic fangs. “Your girl was about to take our fucking heads off.”
You smile pleasantly, posture still at the ready from behind Gerard. “Oh, I’m still contemplating it, Mikey.”
A series of cursing starts up once more until Gerard raises his voice again. “Relaaax.” The second half of the word is directed at you, a gentle hand on your shoulder, easing your stance until you finally - albeit begrudgingly - lower the bat. “You were supposed to be out for the night, man, we thought this was a fuckin’ break in.”
You also might’ve thought there was a demon in the house, but you weren’t going to admit that out loud just now..
Mikey and co ease up, dispersing into the kitchen. One peeks into the fridge while another cracks open the pantry and Mikey unlocks the side door to the garage. “Nah, bro. Party ran out’a beer, came to restock.”
“There’s a sevs up the block,” you snark dryly.
“Yeah, but this beer is free,” Mikey reasons, then disappears into the garage.
You can’t help but sulk, sending Gerard a pout, drifting toward him in search of some solace. It might be a relief that the intrusion was because of some drunk boys and not a haunting - er, burglar - but you already wanted them out of the house. To be pleasantly high and alone with Gerard again. He welcomes it of course; standing at the perfect height so that you can tuck your head in the crook of his neck as a long arm drapes over your shoulders. It’s enough to make you nuzzle at him and he dishes out a cool scolding in response. “Get the beer and get lost, yeah? And hey, get the fuck out of my fridge.”
The boys startle and shuffle away and Mikey slips back into the kitchen, a case of beer perched on his shoulder that looks big enough to crumple his thin frame. “Shit, fine. C’mon guys. Mommy and Daddy wanna be aloooone.”
There’s a chorus of “Oooooh!” and “Happy Halloween!” and you’re both rolling your eyes as the front door slams shut.
“Now I feel stupid.” Gerard says after a moment.
“And you got robbed,” you don’t disagree, and you both head back downstairs. “Should’a taken his damn keys.”
The adrenaline’s worn off some once you find yourself settled across the foot of the bed with Gerard somewhere behind you. The movie was left playing. Now there’s all manner of screams and commotion coming from the TV; stomping on the stairs, screaming, a body flung across the room. But this time, instead of getting any kind of freaked out by it, you simply wind up rolling your eyes.
“Can we put something else on? I’m sick’a these two.” And on second thought - “In fact, if you ever wake up in the middle of the night to me watching you like that, feel free to knock me out and leave my ass. Would’a saved them a world of trouble.”
He chuckles quietly, there’s the tell-tale sound of a lighter flicking and the remote must be in his other hand because the DVD switches off. Tonight the cable stations have the same idea of horror movie marathons in the spirit of Halloween. As soon as the input switches over, Scream is just getting started with the notorious Drew Berrymore chase scene.
“That was kind’a hot, y'know," Gerard says just as she gets the final killing blow.
“What was?”
“I dunno. For a second it kind’a looked like you were ready to kill for me up there.”
You’d assumed he was referring to something in the movie. A typical boy response to a girl being chased, boobs and blood, that sort of thing. But this confession makes your face heat up. You roll over, back to the TV so you can look at him just as he takes a pull off the joint, and even if it weren’t for the way the burning ember of it glows and lights up his cheeks in the dark, you’d still think he was blushing.
“Well, that’s because I would, baby.” You smirk at him, and now you know for certain he’s blushing. You can see it from the way his nose twitches, a sure sign of flustered Gerard. The way he almost immediately breaks eye contact, leaning over to the nightstand to stick the joint back in the ashtray. He even flicks his hair back and takes a deep breath as he sits back up, only to beckon you toward him.
“C’mere.”
A pool of want blooms in your belly and you’re on your hands and knees in an instant, crawling up the bed until you’re close enough to him to see the way his breathing’s quickened in the rise and fall of his chest, feel it fan across your face. At the last second you think to hell with it and close what remaining distance lingers between you. Teasingly brushing your nose along his before softly claiming his lips.
Lashes flutter, there’s a sharp inhale of breath, bodies shift and Gerard’s clutching at your cheek and you’re leaning across his lap, posted up on one hand that fists into the blanket until - until your knuckles rap at something boxy and plasticky and you have to fight back a grin.
“Well, well, well…” you murmur at his lips.
“What?” he’s asking dumbly, practically pawing at your arms to come back before you lift up the camcorder.
“What was that about some soft core action?”
Gerard sputters sheepishly, but you’ve got the thing poised in your grip. There’s still battery power left - albeit hovering around twelve percent - and you may also enjoy torturing him just a little bit.
“I was only kidding about that.”
“Yeah, I know, but..” The way he squirms is so cute, even if he’s barely visible in the view from the monitor. It’s grainy and dark, just hints of his features, the tip of his nose and cheeks, the rest in complete silhouette that somehow makes him even more tantalizing. You reach out, watching your thumb graze across his lips and your stomach plunges when they part and he suckles at the tip. “Fuck,” you mutter. Adjust your position to straddle over him completely. You’re both in pajama pants; it’s nothing but thin fabric between your privates and you can already feel the beginnings of his erection. “I just wanna see you. Take that off for me.”
Somehow he knows you mean his sweatshirt. The thing is unzipped and tossed aside in a matter of seconds and in his loose t-shirt there’s the barest exposure of collarbone you can glance at on screen. Your hand moves up his chest, tugging at the hem to get a little bit more and the flash of pale skin is enough to send a thrill racing down your spine. Shit, yeah, you’re high. Everything’s just a little more intense. And Gerard’s being a good sport at letting you get your eyeful.
“Y’know that was pretty hot, too,” you tell him.
“What’s that?”
You’re petting his hair now and he keens into the touch, showing off those eyelashes, practically batting them for the camera. Fuck, he’s so pretty. “The way you kicked those idiots out.”
Gerard huffs, and in the camera you see just a meager of light reflected in his eyes as he looks up. “I just want you all to myself.”
You audibly gulp. “What’re we gonna do, huh?”
His hand snares around your wrist, tugging the camera from your face so he can kiss you again. So hotly and fervent that the tiny part of you that’s not wholly enraptured hopes this is caught on film, that the camera happens to be angled just right. That it looks even half as arousing as it feels as Gerard tilts his head and parts your lips with his tongue.
The taste of him makes you moan, free hand grasping the hair at the nape of his neck, and eventually you drop the camcorder entirely, too hellbent on focusing solely on him. The way he tugs your thighs around his waist, fingertips dragging hungrily over your hips. It’s all it takes to get you rocking into him and you whimper at the sensitivity there, feeling him fully hard and grinding against you in kind, leaving you a cursing mess.
“Can you take that off for me, too?” Gerard asks. God, he’s so fucking sweet. And you’re grateful to do as he asks, that he’s taking thinking out of the equation right now.
You pull off your sweater, immediately grateful that you aren’t wearing a bra because the feel of Gerard’s hands cupping and kneading your breasts through nothing but a flimsy camisole is driving you crazy. The pads of his thumbs drag back and forth across your nipples and pleasure shoots through your core and you’re bucking at him again, head lolling back to expose your throat. He kisses there, too. Soft lips hovering at your pulse point before dragging south, and takes over for his hands. He laves at each breast; tonguing and sucking through the fabric and you whimper at the sensation. The combination of hot breath and saliva. The insistence of his tongue until he’s soaked wet splotches through your shirt.
“Jesus, Gee, please,” you murmur, knotting fingers into his hair. “Don’t stop touching me.”
“I won’t, baby,” he husks out; his mouth seals back around your nipple, sucking messily, breathing heavy through his nose though you’ve barely even touched him. He palms firmly at your ass, encouraging the grinding motions of your hips and soon enough you’re both rutting into each other. Dry humping like teenagers. It’s all too stimulating and you think you could come from this alone when Gerard bites down painfully hard and you nearly scream.
He groans as he releases you with a soft pop. You’re left gasping, glancing down only to see those pretty eyelashes flutter up at you, his lips rosy, spit-slick and swollen and Jesus fucking Christ you nearly knock him over as you clutch at him. Mouth prying at his for another sloppy bout of kissing. The only thing that breaks it is Gerard fully removing your wrecked shirt, and then he’s panting into your neck, flicking your earlobe with the tip of his tongue. “I wanna fuck you.”
You nod at his temple and he turns you over with ease, smothering you back into the mattress. Up until now you hadn’t realized how hot you both feel. You simmer under his touch, can feel the sweat along his hairline just before he sits up and you want to paw at him, desperate to have his weight back but he’s only taking off your pajamas and underwear. Leaves you completely bare for him as he settles back on top of you, and then you’re kissing again. Hungry and suffocating, desperate as he rucks his pants past his hips, loudly whimpers when he slides along your slick slit and it’s both your voices in unison once he stuffs you completely.
In all his blushing humility, one could never guess how well endowed Gerard is. How fucking thick he is that no matter how wet you are for him, white light still flashes behind your eyelids like fucking stars when he fills you. It takes an adjustment he rarely gives time for, whether from begging or being too needy and you want him so bad you barely ever care. You cry out and sob and sob some more with each of his thrusts. Shove your hands up his shirt to rake your nails across his soft, heated skin and he doesn’t mind - never minds. Simply braces himself on his knees to angle his thrusts just so, till the smacking sounds of your sex fills every corner of the room and you’re shouting - “Oh my god.”
It’s the sweet talk that gets you more often than not. In the most lewd of acts, he murmurs sweet nothings in your ear between heated moments of mouthing at your throat. “You’re perfect,” or “You’re beautiful,” and choruses of “Let me, let me, let me.”
You come in no time, spine curling and arching of the bed, feeling possessed. Your orgasm lashes in the pit of your groin, bursts through every limb. Leaves your thighs shaky and trembling while your nails nearly shred the skin of Gerard’s back to ribbons as you cry.
“So good, baby, fuck, so good,” he’s moaning at your throat. His hips stutter, rhythm unsteady as you clench and shudder around him. “Fuck, baby, can I come on you?” He sounds so sexy like this. Voice wrecked, low and raspy yet somehow whiny at the same time. “Please, please, I’ll be so good to you after just please-”
You almost laugh in blissed out delirium, still coming in waves. “Yes, Ger’, fuck.”
Your body misses him when he pulls out but the sight you get in return is so worth it. Gerard perched on his knees between your trembling thighs. He wraps a fist around his perfect weeping cock, barely even needing to jerk himself to completion. His head falls back but his gaze stays focused on you under heavy lids, chest heaving, murmuring complete nonsense under his breath until he shoots hot spurts of cum across your belly. You watch him, entranced. The groan tearing from his throat strained and shaky as he keeps coming, dousing your navel until the rest dribbles down his knuckles and you swear you can feel the heat of it drip onto your pussy.
He savors the view for a moment before finally melting, going slack on top of you like silly putty. Whimpering as his lips seek yours for a fleeting kiss. Not paying any mind whatsoever to the fact that he’s getting his own cum all over his shirt. You almost laugh at him, but it’s a little endearing; Gerard’s never been one to mind a mess and he’s otherwise occupied. His hands still tremble as they run all over you, moving in lazy little touches before squeezing you tight in a firm embrace.
You stay curled up like that for a few minutes, as if in a hazy bubble coming down from a high. Little by little, the rest of the room slowly comes back into focus. Even the noise of the television becomes audible again, the dialogue playing clearly. You can tell it’s the part where Sidney’s douchebag boyfriend-slash-serial-killer compares his mommy abandonment issues to her mother literally getting brutally murdered. You roll your eyes at the guy, carding your fingers through Gerard’s hair. He’s still breathing hard in the crook of your neck, sweaty tendrils curl and cling to his face, and you rub soothing circles into his scalp as the scene plays out.
“God, what an asshole,” he murmurs suddenly, and you let out a loud snort. “Imagine sleeping with that guy?”
“I was just thinking the same thing, babe.”
Eventually, and with what feels like some small reluctance, Gerard sits up. The room isn’t quite so dark that you miss the gaze he sweeps over your body. You can only imagine what he’s thinking as his head tilts, his touch growing a little less languid now. He drags his fingers through what’s left of the mess he’s made of you, offering a small smile.
“Don’t move.”
He gets up and you resist the urge to pout as he disappears into the bathroom, but he’s not gone long. Doesn’t even turn on the light before you hear the tap of the sink running. He’s back about as quickly as he left, this time with a towel and no longer wearing a shirt and you can feel the slightest bit of arousal seeping back in as he takes a seat next to you, a mischievous look on his face.
“What is it?”
“For the record,” he starts as he begins to clean you up. The towel is wet with comfortably hot water and you immediately relax under his touch, any shyness at your nakedness be damned. “I wouldn’t just knock you out and leave you.” He plays close attention to what he’s doing, gentle but thorough as he wipes at your belly. “I’d totally let you eat my soul, that way we’d both be damned to hell. Together forever.”
You smile up at him. What a lush.
Gerard carries on wordlessly, dipping the washcloth along each and every soft plane of your stomach, saving your crotch for last. Pays extra mind to your sensitivity there with light smooth strokes that leave you whimpering anyway.
Yeah, you’ll definitely be having him again before the night’s out.
He tosses the towel in the vague direction of the bathroom once he’s finished, then reaches over you to somewhere on the bed to retrieve his sweatshirt. He treats you like a fragile thing, helping you sit upright, then dresses you in the overly large hoodie sleeve by sleeve, down to drawing up the zipper right beneath your chin. He ends it with a kiss on your forehead, another on the cheek. Pulls back looking satisfied. “How’s that?”
“Y’know,” you drawl, bypassing the question. “You could just save my soul and we live happily ever after together.”
Gerard makes a face at that, making you laugh. “Nah, I don’t like that. Not as dramatic.”
You roll your eyes. “Love you, too, Gee.”
He’s blushing again, nose twitching. “I think I’ll order us a pizza.”