Pete makes a sound, high and fragile, his hand coming up to touch Gerard's face hesitantly.
And Gerard, he can feel Pete's fingers trembling as they brush over his jaw, over his lips, and suddenly it's not about him anymore, not entirely.
Pete wants, needs what Gerard has, perhaps more than he does, and Gerard has never been able to give nothing less than his all when it's required.
So he puts it in the language he and Pete understand; verbs and adjectives and half-sobbed pronouns spilling out like ink from a broken bottle. Patrick sets the rhythm, and Gerard and Pete, they bring the words, they are the words.
"It's like falling," he says, and if his voice isn't quite steady it doesn't falter either. Patrick's hand connects with his ass again and Gerard rocks forward from the impact, Pete's palm sliding over his cheek, cupping the back of his neck, clinging on.
"Like jumping from a cliff, someone pushing me--" Patrick hits him again, making both him and Pete gasp. "Patrick, like Patrick is pushing me over it, and I could stop and I could run and I could fight--" His words are stumbling over each other in their haste to get out, matching the increased tempo of blows, coming faster and faster until it's impossible to tell them apart.
"But I won't, I won't, because he's going to make me fly."
Patrick pulls Gerard ruthlessly against him, clothes scraping against flamed skin.
Gerard screams, pouring his surrender into Pete's open mouth like a gift.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2008-03-25 09:12 pm (UTC)And Gerard, he can feel Pete's fingers trembling as they brush over his jaw, over his lips, and suddenly it's not about him anymore, not entirely.
Pete wants, needs what Gerard has, perhaps more than he does, and Gerard has never been able to give nothing less than his all when it's required.
So he puts it in the language he and Pete understand; verbs and adjectives and half-sobbed pronouns spilling out like ink from a broken bottle. Patrick sets the rhythm, and Gerard and Pete, they bring the words, they are the words.
"It's like falling," he says, and if his voice isn't quite steady it doesn't falter either. Patrick's hand connects with his ass again and Gerard rocks forward from the impact, Pete's palm sliding over his cheek, cupping the back of his neck, clinging on.
"Like jumping from a cliff, someone pushing me--" Patrick hits him again, making both him and Pete gasp. "Patrick, like Patrick is pushing me over it, and I could stop and I could run and I could fight--" His words are stumbling over each other in their haste to get out, matching the increased tempo of blows, coming faster and faster until it's impossible to tell them apart.
"But I won't, I won't, because he's going to make me fly."
Patrick pulls Gerard ruthlessly against him, clothes scraping against flamed skin.
Gerard screams, pouring his surrender into Pete's open mouth like a gift.