Archive of Our Own

Count me in and turn me loose

Frank/Gerard, 2353 words, NC-17. Takes place in the Purgatorio 'verse, though you don't have to read that for context (but I'd be delighted if you did ;)), and fills the "buildup of job-related trauma" square for hc_bingo. This is in belated response to a prompt from ciel_vert. Many thanks to mrsronweasley for her beta services <3

Frank came home with something bubbling under his skin. It didn't happen as often now as it used to, but it still happened. Gerard could tell. It was there in the tight roll of his shoulders as he shucked his leather jacket and tossed it onto a kitchen chair. It was there in the way two of his fingers hooked, lingered a little too long on the rim of a tumbler sitting on the edge of the sink to dry. There was no liquor in the building, though, and Gerard wouldn't have minded if Frank had stopped off at Brian's place after his shift. It was still habit, after all this time, and on some nights - the normal ones, the in-between ones - Frank would call and talk Gerard into meeting him at the Quiet Riot. He'd dramatize his cases of the day into Gerard's ear over the sound of the house band or coax Mikey, if he was there too, into a game of darts. On good nights - and some bad ones - he came straight home.

Gerard didn’t know what it was like to deal with pain and ugliness and death on a daily basis; he was in the business of creation, and sometimes - most times - he didn’t know what to say to Frank when he was like this. He caught himself studying the pull of Frank's shoulder holster over the stark white of his shirt and set down the metal rasps in his hand. He tugged off his leather gloves and skirted the edge of his workbench. Frank looked up at the sound of the gloves slapping onto the tabletop.

"Gerard?" he said.

*

Frank had been calling the studio building home for long enough that he could tune out the discordant rasps and screeches of metalworking, and the hissing of the acetylene torch and Gerard humming Iron Maiden under his breath were both strangely soothing. He could have used the white noise tonight. Tonight, there was nothing to distract him except the static of his own thoughts, but that meant the silence followed by the quiet slap of leather hitting wood got his attention.

"Gerard?" he asked hesitantly.

Gerard stepped around the end of his workbench and into the kitchen area, silent but keeping steady eye contact. He didn't say anything for long enough that Frank started to get anxious, but he didn't look angry, just...assessing. Frank held still, letting Gerard see what he would see. Gerard had been reading him like a book since the day they met. It still took Frank by surprise when Gerard’s eyes slid to the side, shoulders hunching slightly.

"Detective," he said, the word slipping out in a half-defensive, half-taunting whine. Dirty fingers tangled in a stray lock of hair, tugging it forward over his face. Frank would have gaped at the stranger who'd slipped into his boyfriend's skin had he not caught the tiny betraying flash of green as Gerard snuck a quick look at Frank from behind his bangs.

A game, then. The noise in his head faded to nothing as something hot curled in Frank's stomach and crawled up his spine, leaving him breathless but energized. He took a few steps closer, shrugging out of his shoulder harness and laying it gently on the table as he passed, letting his hands hang loose at his sides. Gerard was still studying the floor and barely flinched as Frank reached for his wrist, so his gasp as Frank spun him around and pressed him into the cabinets was doubly satisfying.

*

Gerard always forgot how fast Frank could move. He choked back a gasp when he found himself up against the kitchen cabinets, Frank warm and solid at his back, fingers biting into the thin skin of his wrists. His own fingers twitched, brushing up against the denim of Frank’s jeans, and Frank leaned close, trapping their hands between his stomach and Gerard’s back.

“Yeah?” he muttered softly, breath misting Gerard’s neck. Gerard nodded, pressing his forehead into the cool wood of the cabinets. He still shuddered when he heard the soft slithering clink of the handcuffs sliding out of the case nestled at the small of Frank’s back, the muscles in his arms jerking as the cool metal touched his skin. Frank chuckled into his ear before pulling back enough to snap the cuffs into place. “Resisting arrest?” he crooned sardonically. “Please do, it’ll make my day.”

Gerard took a few breaths through his nose, shifting his hips restlessly against the unyielding edge of the counter, pants already uncomfortably tight. They’d played with restraints before, bits of stray rope or Frank’s ties or whatever was on hand, but this was - new. Points to Frankie, he thought, falling back into character.

“I don’t have to talk,” he blustered. “You can’t make me.”

Frank’s warm weight left him, which was the only warning he got before strong hands clamped on his shoulders, pulled him stumbling across the kitchen floor to collapse into a chair. He peered up through the hair that had fallen over his face and bit back a noise at the sight of Frank, loose-limbed now and tugging off his tie, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt with an unholy light in his eyes.

Frank stepped close, bent down with a hand braced on the chair back. “If you won’t talk, kid,” he breathed, tipping Gerard’s head back with a hand in his hair, “I’m gonna find some other use for that pretty mouth of yours.”

Gerard let his eyelids slide shut, feeling the heat of Frank’s breath on his face, the tug of fingers in his hair. “I’ll do anything you want,” he mumbled, licking his dry lips. And it was true, so true even though he probably didn’t say it enough, and he opened his eyes to look at Frank, knowing he’d forfeit the game if he opened his mouth again. Frank was watching him, expression too tender for play-acting, and they just stared at one another for a moment till Frank clicked back over, lips curving in a pleased smile.

“Good boy,” he said, letting go of Gerard’s hair and reaching for his belt. Gerard watched as he slipped the buckle and buttons, pushing jeans and underwear out of the way in a smooth movement, cock curving flushed against the white tails of his shirt. Gerard leaned forward unthinking, mouth already watering, and the unfamiliar tug of his cuffed hands made him overbalance. Frank caught him by the chin, and chuckled, fingers pressing into the corners of Gerard’s lips. “Eager little cocksucker, are you?”

Gerard glared from under his brows, but Frank just pushed a couple fingers, tasting of sweat and smoke, into Gerard’s mouth, and Gerard opened automatically, watching Frank’s lashes flutter as he stroked his tongue along the calluses there. A muscle flickered in Frank’s jaw, and he grasped a handful of hair with his other hand, replacing his fingers with his cock without further warning. Gerard moaned, Frank echoing him a second later as the vibrations hit, and Gerard worked his tongue experimentally, mouth watering at the taste, lips sliding down the shaft.

He’d barely moved his head at all before the hand in his hair tightened to the point of actual pain. “Don’t move,” Frank ordered, and Gerard obeyed, tensing his muscles to hold himself still as Frank’s grip loosened, cupping the back of Gerard’s skull and starting to thrust with tiny motions of his hips. The pleased noise he made sounded dimly in Gerard’s ears. His eyes had already drifted closed, the world narrowing sharply to the strain of his muscles, Frank’s hands in his hair, Frank’s cock pushing past his lips.

*

Frank tipped his head back, eyes closed and mouth open, hips still undulating as he fucked Gerard’s mouth in quick, sharp strokes. It was quiet, so quiet in the kitchen. The wet sounds of Gerard’s mouth on Frank, the harsh gasps of Frank’s own breath, the occasional rattle of metal chain against wood as Gerard shifted in the chair, leaning towards Frank - always toward him, never away. Whatever had been riding Frank dropped away so suddenly, he barely noticed, the black curl of tension driven out by the hot tide of - Gerard, of want, the want that never went away. He groaned, the sound stretched like taffy in his throat.

“You’re so good, to - take it for me,” he gasped. His hands shifted, gentling a little in Gerard’s hair. He got no answer, of course, except for the flutter of Gerard’s tongue against his shaft and a tiny noise that vibrated against his skin.

“So - good - I’m gonna - “ Frank’s thighs were starting to shake, heat pulsing through his body, and the words caught in his throat. He let his head fall forward on a moan, one hand slipping out of Gerard’s hair and reaching blindly for the chair back. He came with his fingers locked white-knuckled around the wood, with just enough presence of mind to pull his hips back. Gerard didn’t pull away, though, just clamped his lips around the head of Frank’s cock and swallowed, working with his lips and tongue until Frank tightened the fingers still in Gerard’s hair, a helpless noise escaping him as the warring sensations became too much. When Gerard let Frank’s dick slip out of his mouth, he was smiling, a dirty little smirk, but his eyes were hazy and hot.

Frank folded more or less gracefully to his knees in front of the chair.

*

Gerard’s inner thighs trembled a little as Frank pushed closer, rubbed his cheek against the worn denim. “Fr- wait,” he choked out. “Uncuff me, I want to - “

“No,” Frank answered, calmly. “But I like your enthusiasm.” He punctuated the word with a nip - a hard one - to Gerard’s thigh, right where the denim was starting to disintegrate, and Gerard yelped.

“Shit! I - you - you can take my enthusiasm and sho- “

“I intend to.” Frank curled his hands around the backs of Gerard’s knees and yanked his hips forward. Gerard’s shoulders crashed against the chair back, and the chair squeaked ominously. Gerard arched his back and clamped his cuffed hands around the chair seat, feeling unstable, but Frank shouldered further between Gerard’s legs, solid and warm, and Gerard wiggled desperately to help him tug down the worn denim of his jeans. Frank was moving slowly, so slowly, but Gerard had been ready forever, since the first cool kiss of metal maybe, and was moaning by the time his hot mouth closed around the tip of Gerard’s cock.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good, I - shit, don’t stop,” he panted as Frank let his lips sink to touch his circling fingers, again and again. Frank chuckled a little and Gerard had to bite his lip, head falling back. His eyes were screwed shut so tightly that he could see neon streaks. When he opened his mouth to drag in a breath, his lip stung, and his hands stung where they clamped the edge of the chair seat. Every muscle in his body seemed to be locked in one big arc, and he couldn’t breathe; the only thing he could feel was Frank. He knew the feel of Frank’s hands, his mouth, the noises he made around Gerard’s cock - each one familiar, loved, but transformed somehow with the tug of the unfamiliar restraints. Gerard panted, a knot of heat twisting in his gut, tight and insistent and amazing until it was too much, all of a sudden, and he was coming with a garbled shout down Frank’s throat.

Gerard’s brain was still fried when he felt Frank pull back, and he made an unhappy noise until he realized Frank was leaning back in, reaching around to unlock the handcuffs.

*

Frank nearly fumbled the tiny handcuff keys, still cross-eyed from his own orgasm and from riding the rush of Gerard’s. Gerard’s chest heaved under Frank’s cheek, and Frank had only just managed to release the first cuff when he slid off the chair. The two of them tumbled to the floor with a confusion of limbs and a metallic clank as Gerard caught himself, holding himself above Frank with shaky arms. Their eyes finally met, Frank and Gerard again, and Frank smiled. “Come here,” he whispered, and the corner of Gerard’s mouth twitched.

“Is that an order?” he asked softly.

Frank took a deep breath, curling his hands around Gerard’s elbows and tugging. “It’s a request,” he answered, huffing out a satisfied breath when Gerard’s weight pressed him into the floor, long fingers tangling in the curling hair at Frank’s temples.

“Your wish is my command,” Gerard said with an ironic twinkle in his eye.

“So you say,” Frank replied, hands skating up the valley of Gerard’s spine. Gerard leaned down to nuzzle along Frank’s jaw, biting down gently.

“Do you need another demonstration?”

“Maybe later,” Frank said, catching his lips as they slid by. They kissed for a while, till Frank was practically a puddle on the worn linoleum. “Bed now?” he drawled when Gerard pulled back for a moment. Gerard smiled gently and pushed himself up, offering a hand to pull Frank up. As they tugged their pants back into place, both their eyes fixed on the cuffs still dangling from Gerard’s wrist, and Frank took hold of Gerard’s arm to unlock the other cuff, carefully tucking the whole clinking bundle back into its case.

Gerard grabbed him by the necktie, reeled him in even as he backed Frank into the bedroom. “Just don’t lose those keys,” he murmured.

Frank smirked. “Afraid you’ll get stuck in them sometime?”

Gerard patted him gently on the cheek. “Who said I’d be wearing them next time?” He took advantage of Frank’s surprise to shove him backwards onto the bed, then crawled in after him. “Glad you’re home,” he muttered into the crook of Frank’s neck. Frank sighed and tugged him closer.

“So am I.”