because Patrick told him to stay still and Gerard knows what happens if he doesn't. So he just grips the frayed sofa cushions harder, even though everything in him wants to cringe away, to cover up. He can feel Pete's eyes on him, wide and shocked, running all over the long naked length of his spine, down the curve of his ass where Patrick's hand is resting.

The shame flushing through him is quick and scalding, and Gerard twitches instinctively, feels Patrick's fingers tighten past the point of pain. There's nowhere to hide and then Pete closes the door and it's too late anyway.