It wasn't always this way.
I'm naturally drawn to beauty. It's something I personally find rare enough to put on a pedestal; that anything beautiful is meant to be examined and admired.
I'm also more curious than a normal person should be. I guess it's in my genes, and that's something I can't necessarily just wash out.
The first time was an accident.
He had to have known his curtains and blinds were wide open, exposing not just a window, but a huge bay window, on the other side of which was his bedroom. It always struck me as odd of someone to require such a large window in the room where the most private things are accomplished. I didn't dwell on it, though. It wasn't the window I found interesting, anyway, but what lay beyond; within, and what I saw.
I had been walking home from my friend Bob's house. It wasn't far from my apartment at all, maybe a few blocks. I usually rode the bus because Bob complained whenever I was late, and walking meant more distractions. The truth was, that even though I loved Bob, he was my best friend, I couldn't help but stop and smell the roses. Sometimes literally, I'd vandalize Mrs. Bryar's rose bush and pluck off a few of the red flowers. Bob would always laugh at me when his old grandmother, who kept the bush, scolded me for killing her plant. I didn't really care, but later on I'd always feel guilty for it. I couldn't help it, though. Her roses were so soft and pretty...I wanted to keep them for myself, even if that meant without permission.
It was dusk and I could see the light on inside his house. When I noticed the window was open, wide open, I looked in as I passed it just like any other human would do. The light was dim unless you compared it to the lightness outside. I saw a person through the window, and at first I'd thought it was a woman, judging by the wideset hips and curving figure, the long hair tickling their shoulders. But it was him.
He was standing in the house, the bedroom, I'd concluded, nude. I stopped immediatly, at first not believing the sight. Why would he get dressed in front of a window? Anyone could just look in.
He had to know it was open, right? I asked myself that as I watched him twirl in a circle to some unheard music and smile. It gave me a full three-sixty view of him and I was still shocked at the sight of so much skin before my eyes.
I watched him fish pensively through his closet and dresser drawers. He was looking for something to wear, I'd guessed. He plucked a necklace, which was actually a string of costume pearls, from a jewelery box and danced around as he hung the strand around his neck.
He continued to smile and I wondered if maybe he wasn't alone. How could someone be so happy, joyful even, just on their own? I decided there must be a good reason for his graceful, solitary (as far as he knew) celebration. He made me want to take his hand and hip and spin in circles along with him, like two children at a wedding party.
I felt like a fly on the wall of someone's life. Someone who I didn't even know. Someone who I wished I knew.
After a few moments, I realized I was just standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring. I must have looked pretty weird, so I moved on and kept walking.
But seeing him like that wasn't something I could unsee, though I sooner or later wrote it off as a strange, one-time, peculiar occurance and forgot.
A week later, I left Bob's house a little earlier than usual because he had company. As I came upon the street 'his' house was located on, the memory of his bare-naked bottom swept through my mind, making me blush and laugh to myself. I anticipated passing the house, just to remember how ridiculous the whole thing had been.
But as I walked by, the light was on inside. The curtains were pulled apart and the insides were revealed yet again.
There he was again. My amusement faded to exasperation immediatly, because...did he always dress in front of the window?
My feet halted and I looked at him. His cheeks were flushed and he was clad in two matching blue towels fresh from the shower, one on his head and one around his waist that hung there, doing a better job of concealment than his curtains were.
He pulled the towel off of his head and shook his hair around. It was as black as the night sky, soft and wild-looking. It looked almost as plush as a silk pillow and I felt a strange sensation to touch it. Or maybe I was jealous because my own hair was dry in comparison.
I found myself stepping closer, but not too close. My feet carried me slowly and I was definatly not just looking but watching.
I watched him drop the towel from around his waist and my eyes gravitated to the newly exposed area of his body.
It felt almost like watching a movie. I knew he hadn't noticed me, nor could he see me.
But I was there as I watched him brush his hair at his vanity. I was there as I watched him rub his tender-looking skin with lotion. I was there, still, even as he slid into his flannel pajamas and picked up a book, what looked like To Kill A Mockingbird, from his nightstand.
That was when I realized what I was doing and panicked. I was being a creep. A peeping-tom, even. I hated that term. I was so not a peeping-tom. People got restraining orders on peeping-toms...citations, too. I would not let myself succomb to such a disgusting label. I had merely been curious.
I ran across his yard, nearly tripping over one of at least twelve garden gnomes and barreling down the street.
I swore I'd never do such a violating thing again and crawled into bed guilty.
But even after I'd vowed to no longer invade his privacy, I saw him again through the window as I passed, unable to stroll past without looking, and that was it. I simply could not help it. Seeing him made me happy, like watching the puppies in a pet store.
I decided he was asking for it, anyhow, always leaving his curtains spread open.
I stopped by his house every time I walked home from Bob's. By now, I knew that he took a shower every night at the same time but usually stayed up late, only falling asleep early on weekdays, nights he didn't brush his hair or even bother with pajamas or a night gown before crawling into his big bed and shutting his eyes.
I never could get a good look at his eyes. That was something I was both relieved and perturbed about. I knew they'd be shimmery, somehow, and probably an autumn golden brown, but I could never tell unless he looked at me, which luckily never happened.
I noticed other things about him, like his long, pale legs connected to his feminine hips. I'd seen him dance a few times, swaying his hips back and forth and twirling, and it was entertaining even though I couldn't hear the music inside. It made me smile, and even laugh enough to rattle the bush I'd hidden myself in.
I liked his milky white chest, and the well-spaced pink nipples he had, too. His chest was broad, but not muscular enough to be considered very masculine. He had a long neck with a very defined jawline, curved around the edges. His face never held any stubble, only tiny freckles like pixie dust. He had these rosy cheeks and lips to match. He was almost too beautiful to be real.
I found myself trying to imagine what he smelled like after he showered. I tried to imagine how his skin felt and what his voice sounded like.
Sometimes when I watched him, I wondered if he was lonely. He made me feel lonely, though, just because he did seem so content with himself.
It got to the point where I'd developed a crush on him. I had been denying it mentally to myself for as long as I could, but I knew it was true. I didn't normally like men, but he was so different, and it wasn't as if I'd ever be with him.
He was charming and enchanting and really, who wouldn't like him? His nude body always glowed and when he smiled my stomach wrung out and dripped the warmth of happiness. His smile was as bright and luminescent as the crescent moon, present on his face whenever he danced or his cat wrapped itself around his ankles, tail brushing his knees.
I wanted to press my lips on every surface of his body.
And I didn't even know his name.
Going to his house and watching through that window became the highlight of my day. I no longer felt like I was in the wrong for what I was doing. I knew I should stop, that what I was doing was unhealthy, but I couldn't stop myself. It was almost like an addiction. Could it even be possible to become addicted to a person?
I didn't know, but I knew if I stopped going to see him I'd miss him too much.
So even though his gutter dripped into my hair when it rained from where I stowed away, even though the neighbor's dogs barked and knew what I was doing, even though I was petrified of spiders in the bushes I stood in, I couldn't ever bring myself to stay away.
And months passed.
One night as I made my usual stop, I looked in his bedroom window to see he was not alone. There was a car parked out front, I noted. I'd never seen him have any visiters before, and I considered leaving because more people meant a higher risk of being found out.
He looked nervously at the man standing in his bedroom doorway, partly concealed to me by shadow. They were talking, but I was terrible at reading lips. The other man stepped into the light, closer to him, and began pushing him back onto his own bed. He looked at the longer-haired, greasy-looking male with wide, frightened, doe eyes. The cartoon aspect of their expressions made him look like a damsel in distress.
The other man only tossed his head back to cackle. My nose would have been pressed to the glass if I'd been any closer.
The man pressed their lips together, but I could see him squirm beneath his weight. The man also unbuckled his pants and roughly turned him over. Now he lay on his stomach, looking more afraid and upset than ever. It made my chest twinge uncomfortably because I knew this wasn't right. I only wished I could hear what was happening.
The man who I'd never seen before shoved himself roughly inside of him, slamming wildly and carelessly with his hips.
He was crying out and fat tears dribbled down his chafed cheeks. He kicked and batted his arms around, but he was too weak to escape. I had never seen a more horrifying sight.
I was witnessing rape. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I'd never felt so terribly helpless in my life. I felt so sorry and my heart actually ached. I wanted nothing more than to beat senseless the man who was deflowering my beautiful, secret fascination.
That night, I went home I cried for the first time in a very long time, wondering if he was okay and wishing I were in his bed holding him.
I wished I weren't on the other side of the window anymore. I wanted to be inside; in his life.
There was another time, just a few nights later, when that same man was back with an animalistic glint in his eyes, a predator that couldn't be stopped. But the look on his face when he was once again face down on the mattress was too much for me to bear. I couldn't sit by and watch this again or I'd die of remorse.
I picked up a heavy orange brick that I'd been using to stand on to make myself tall enough to see through the windowpane. I took a deep breath and heaved the brick through the big window. Glass shattered everywhere, including onto myself. My bare arms got cut up pretty badly, but I held my breath through the pain.
I finally heard a shout from inside. "What the FUCK?!"
There was no way that could be the voice of my forbidden fairy, so as I cowered against the siding, whimpering under my breath because of my gashes, I figured it was the voice of that disgusting, abusive other.
I swore I smelt his putrid breath and felt his cold glare as he ducked his head out the broken window pane and muttered a few strings of profanity.
I knew he would have to leave and he did. He couldn't very well rape him if he was shouting for help with an open window. Then I'd be able to spring into action without being cross-examined, anyway. But as soon as he was in his car and speeding recklessly away, I heard 'his' muffled tears, little sobs. They were the saddest thing I'd ever heard; even worse than just simply seeing him cry. I let my own tears stream a bit before I ran all the way home.
A few days after that had happened, I had to explain to Bob why my arms were so gashed up. I confessed to him that I fell into his grandmother's thorny rose bushes, and he bought it, thank god. Mrs. Bryar apparently did too, seeing as the threw her dentures at my head as punishment.
I grabbed a single rose on my way home and decided I would leave it on his front porch. I was nervous because I never dared to get that close to his house before, but I was not backing out. if anyone deserved a little kindness now, it was him.
I made my way up his walk and onto his creaky porch. I smiled down at his dirty welcome mat and bent down, laying the flower right in front of the door. Before I could stand up straight again, the door clicked and opened and I was pretty sure my heart jumped straight into my throat. I snapped up, staring straight at him.
He looked at me with a crooked smile and those shining eyes--the ones I'd only let myself dream about. They were vibrant olive with golden veins of glitter in them. I felt my knees weaken and my heartbeat pound so loud that my eardrums roared.
"Well...you aren't the UPS man, are you?", he asked me with a chuckle of amusement.
I stared at him, slack-jawed and as stiff as a board. I didn't know what to say. I almost felt violated; oh, what irony.
And I had finally heard him speak. His voice was perfect.
He giggled and it was like squeaky wind chimes, a spritely sound that made bubbles in my tummy.
"That's alright. Can I help you?", he chirped.
My mouth opened and then shut a few times, giving me about as much savoir-faire as a fish.
He merely kept smiling patiently at me, which didn't help at all.
"I--you...I was just--...", I stammered, losing my breath and hanging my head, gazing at the rose that I'd laid only inches from his toes. He looked down, too, and my stomach plummeted. I wanted to crawl under his rug.
"Oh! Look--is...is this for me?!", he gasped, crouching to pick up the flower and then standing at full height again, nuzzling his nose into the sweet-smelling petals just like I'd imagined he might do.
I merely nodded at him, shoving my shaky, clammy hands in my pockets and shrugging.
I felt his hand clap onto my shoulder and he sqealed with delight.
"Truly?! Thank you! Come in, please--I was just making some tea. You know, you caught me just before I usually take a bubble bath! But I'd love some company."
Yes, I do know because I've been stalking you for the past several months.
He led me into his kitchen and pulled out a chair for me to sit down. I still couldn't process anything. I felt like I was inside the movie I'd been watching for months now. It was completely unexpected. It was strange. It was crazy.
"What's your name, sweetie?", he asked me as he set a fragile, China-ware teacup in front of me. It made me think of my cousin Anita and her doll's tea parties where she'd goad me into participating and paint my face like a clown.
"I-I'm Frank.", I replied, finally looking at him.
A warm smile spread across his face and I blushed heatedly. I'd seen this man naked too many times to count and he had no idea.
"What an adorable name. I'm Gerard.", Gerard replied. Gerard.
I had a name to put to him. A gorgeous, simple name, yet one that suited him so well.
I watched, this time on the inside of the window, as he placed my rose into a tall, slender crystal vase and set it in the center of his kitchen table.
"So what brings you to visit me, Frankie?"
It was the question I'd been dreading. How would I answer it? I couldn't tell the truth.
Gerard let out a childish giggle, honestly melting my heart. He batted his long eyelashes and reached across the table to touch my hand. I jumped as if I'd just been electrocuted.
"Do I have a secret admirer...?", Gerard asked, smirking playfully.
My cheeks turned even redder. They felt like boiling patches of lava. I bit my lip and he played footsie with me under the table. It was extremely awkward.
"How come you don't want to speak to me...? I liked your rose.", he asked, letting a bit of disappointment seep into his tone.
"I...just...y-yeah, I have a crush on you...", I babbled out before I could stop myself.
It wasn't a lie...it just wasn't the complete truth.
Gerard giggled, standing up and grinning. "A crush! Me! You have a crush on me?"
I looked up and nodded sheepishly. He pulled me out of my seat and hugged me.
"Well don't be ashamed! How do you know I don't like you too?! We should get to know eachother.", Gerard exclaimed, all excited and rosy-cheeked.
He took a hold of my hand, making my tummy clench and tingle, twirling himself in a quick circle. He opened his refridgerator and took out a bakery box, putting it on the table. As he tore it open, I saw that it contained a black velvet cake. My stomach grumbled from only having eaten carrots at Bob's for supper. He cut me a huge slice, as if reading my mind, and then got a piece for himself.
As he chewed and I gobbled, he made short conversation. It took me a moment to heat up to the idea of talking to someone I'd deemed so untouchable for so long, but he was cheerful and easy to get along with.
Gerard giggled at me as I was telling him about Bob and his grandma's rose bushes, rubbing a thumbful of cream cheese icing on my upper lip. I grinned and laughed, trying to lick it off, but only failing. As I reached across the table to grab a napkin, I felt his warm hands touch my arm, holding it in place. His expression was unreadable when I met his eyes.
"What are these...these cuts from?", Gerard asked me.
I froze. I had no idea how to explain myself, other than the rose bush story.
I was about to tell it to him, too, but he spoke again before me.
"Did you...glass. You cut yourself on glass...?"
I was panicking, sweating, and shaking. I couldn't deny it. He wouldn't believe me if my voice quaked.
So I just nodded.
Gerard went through a series of facial expressions, but I wasn't sure if any of them were good or bad. He left go of my arm and stared off into space for a moment. I wanted to bolt--to just stand up and run. Run as fast as I could manage out the door and away.
"Frankie...did you...throw th-that...brick? Through my window...?"
I seriously couldn't breathe. My throat seemed like it would close up. I wouldn't mind if it did.
I struggled to find air, breathing out;
"Gerard, please don't press charges, I didn't mean to smash your window but I saw you and he--and I didn't want anyone to get hurt even though it wasn't my business!"
I could not have formed a more articulate sentence in my current state. I held my breath and watched him lift his head to look at me.
Gerard looked kind of shocked, kind of amazed.
"I can't believe--...you did that. Y-you...I almost-...Frank...thank you. I...that was...so nice of you. You saved me."
I could not believe he didn't freak out. He'd obviously comprehended I'd looked through his window, yet he was thanking me.
Gerard dabbed his eyes with a napkin, taking a sip of his tea before standing up. He walked over to me.
I just looked at him as he grabbed my hand. "Thank you."
"You're welcome.", I croaked, managing to smile a little bit.
I barely got the words out of my mouth, bursting with gratuity, before something warm, squishy and wet smooshed against my lips. It took me a moment before I registered it to be Gerard's mouth.
His lips went beyond any imaginable wonder. They were soft and plump and perfect for kissing. I started moving my lips back, and his hands fell lighter than feathers on my waist. I leaned into it.
Gerard pulled his mouth away, his hazel eyes sparkling in his dim kitchen light.
I almost shuddered. He sucked his bottom lip in and smiled shyly.
"That was...wow.", I murmured, swaying a little on my feet and letting my fingertips ghost over my lips.
He nodded and giggled again, then he was crushing me in a tight hug. I smiled into his hair.
I started visiting Gerard a lot, as much as I could, whenever I had time. We would sit in his yellow-painted kitchen and talk endlessly about many things, but never about the other's life. I didn't once tell him about the time I had used to spend staring through his window. I always left before he normally took his bath, only to slink around the side of his house and peer through again. Just talking to him had been enough at first, but I was a complete failure at trying to make a move to advance our relationship. Whenever I even thought about asking him to dinner my knees shook. It was impossible. I had even tried reinstilling the fact that I was falling in love with him by bringing him a new rose every other visit. He would thank me always, and keep the rose until it was so wilted it crumbled.
I wanted more with Gerard, but I just didn't know how to get there. I was sure that if I kept holding back I was going to go insane.
Then one day when I came over, Gerard didn't answer his front door. At first, I thought something terrible had happened and my stomach lurched. I ran around the backside of his house and practically broke through the rotting wooden fence.
There he was, though, standing in the center of his yard with an easel. I sighed loudly in relief.
"Gerard! You scared me! You didn't answer your door and I got so worried.", I breathed out.
It was a little bit of a grey day to be outside. I walked over to stand beside him in his unkempt backyard. The grass looked as if it hadn't seen a lawn mower in ages and there was a pine tree in the back corner beside a tiny frog pond. There were wildflowers but also flowers that Gerard must have planted. It was like being in a secret garden, or a forest, kept private by the tall picket fence. The rest of the neighborhood was not visible. It was as if it'd all disappeared. Maybe Gerard was a fairy.
The rose I was holding suddenly felt old and boring.
"I'm sorry I gave you a fright, Frankie. I was just sketching. Is that for me?", Gerard smiled as brightly as always at me and I forgot all about how I'd hid in the bushes again, beside his open window, to watch him dance and sing softly..
I nodded, as always, and handed the flower to him bashfully. He took it and thanked me and I studied his drawing.
"Wow, Gee. That's really great. You're like an artist or something. You never told me you could draw!"
Actually, he rarely told me anything about himself, which made me feel like I talked too much about myself.
He batted his eyeslashes at me and grinned.
"Thank you. It's just a hobby...now why don't we go find this little Rosie some water? The walk over must have her parched.", he cooed, cradling the flower like a toddler. I smiled really big and nodded. Truth be told, he could have suggested we go sky-diving and I'd have followed after him.
I tagged along into the kitchen and he stood on his tip-toes, trying to reach a vase he just had to have, high up in his cupboard. I giggled as he strained and finally grabbed it, turning around to face me with a flourish.
"If I were taller I would have helped, but...", I confessed with a laugh, leaning at the countertop beside him.
He shook his head, dropped his new rose into the vase, and filled it halfway with water.
"You do too much for me, Frankie. You know, you're like my little guardian angel...or watchman or something. I'm really glad I have you.", Gerard said in a sweet, sing-songed voice.
His hand was on the back of my neck in a friendly, intimate way and my cheeks grew hot.
"It's my pleasure, really. I love coming over. It's relaxing and I--oh..."
I stopped talking and stiffened as he smiled and his lips made warm, delectible contact with my neck.
I gasped sharply when I felt his tongue sweep across my collarbone. All of my nerve endings prickled in sheer delight.
I heard his muffled giggle against my skin and then he was leaning on me, pressing his body against mine and nuzzling my neck. He was so warm, giving me an ooey-gooey feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Gerard's lips trailed their way north to my earlobe and he kissed it, again poking his tongue out and tasting me. I shivered and wrapped my arms slowly around his waist. He took that as a welcoming gesture to lean more completely on me than before so that our bodies touched nearly everywhere.
His kiss made it to my lips and I could feel his smile. Gerard still wasn't saying anything, though, and this was a lot more than a thank you kiss like he'd given me on my first day at his house. If he kept this up, I would totally crumble to begging mess on the floor.
Gerard licked over my lips and my body twitched with surprise, causing him to giggle without pulling his lips back and wait for me to open my mouth.
Of course I did, and the first few times his tongue lapped against mine and the roof of my mouth, I did well holding in a moan.
But soon it was too much. He slid his arms up my torso and around my neck, fingers tangling in my dark brown hair and clasping around my locks slightly. I couldn't possibly restrain myself then, and I let out a short but much-needed groan.
Gerard slurped as he pulled his lips away, grinning with satisfaction. His eyes were half-lidded as he looked at me, long dark hair framing his face. My heartbeat quickened, thudding like the hooves of a racehorse.
Gerard held his smile and angled his head, mouth towards my neck. We were still pressed together. His breath was hot against my throat.
"Frankie...remember when you told me...you were my secret admirer?"
By now I was used to his eccentric way of speaking and how he seemed to always be changing topics.
I remembered that, of course I did. How could I forget?
"Yes...", I half-panted, trying my hardest not to look to desperatly turned-on. His quirky little smirk was enough to undo me.
Gerard's lips hovered over mine and he gazed straight into my eyes. In that moment, my soul felt naked. I swore he was going to kiss me, but he didn't.
His hand disentangled itself from my hair and cupped my face. It was all too much. I closed my eyes.
"Well, I'm happy that you...you're my not-so-secret admirer anymore...'cause I like you. I think, I do. I like you."
I could have melted into my shoes and evaporated all in the same moment. The way his voice sounded, so low and whispery and sort of ragged at the same time was so...hot.
I'd always thought of Gerard as beautiful and precious and now he was being sexy and I was close to having a wet spot on the front of my jeans.
"Oh...", I said at the same time as I swallowed a huge lump in my throat.
"Mhmm. Wanna come into my bedroom?", Gerard asked, sliding his hand up the back of my shirt, and it was colder than I'd expected. My eyes wanted to roll to the back of my head.
I nodded my answer and too soon Gerard's body was gone, our only contact our linked hands courtesy of him. He pulled me along through a hallway and pushed the door of his bedroom open, leading me inside.
Being in there was one of the oddest experiences I'd ever had. It was different, so much different, than what I could see from the outside, yet so familiar.
I fell backwards onto Gerard's cushiony mattress, bouncing a little because he'd pushed me. Before I could see where he went, he was crawling on the bed behind me on his hands and knees. Gerard hung his head down and looked at me with a smile that I feebly returned, nerves slamming into my stomach hard.
He kissed me and it felt awkward at first because his lips were upside down from above, but nothing would ever beat kissing him whether it was upside down, backwards, left, right, diagonal, sideways or whatever.
Gerard pulled back slowly, sucking just barely on my lip. I made a small 'Mmmm' noise before he was moving again, taking off my shoes and then, oh God, grabbing onto my belt.
"Gerard, are you sure about this? I--"
"Shhh. I am if you are, Frank..."
Of course I was. But I was always the one who wanted to see Gerard naked, not vice-versa. He slid my pants down my legs ands off. I heard my belt clink against the floor and within moments Gerard's hot palm closed around my frontal low. I gasped and Gerard just giggled. I was already half-hard and him touching my cock was really only going to make it whole.
He rubbed his hand over me a few times and then stopped. He got to his feet and grinned down at my helpless self on his white sheets.
He stripped his shirt, more like his art smock, off like it was my first time seeing his bare chest. I relaxed and tried to take deep breaths, still in disbelief. I wasn't even sure what he was planning on doing.
Gerard twirled in a circle and unhooked his belt, dropping his pants.
As if he weren't eccentric enough, he was wearing no underwear. It was weird, because I knew for a fact his second drawer was full of ladies' underwear and I'd seen him try them on in the mirror once before.
Still, I wasn't complaining.
He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair as if waiting, nakedly I might add, for my approval. He smiled almost bashfully at me and, seriously, that almost did me in.
"Gerard...you're so...", I tried. I knew what I wanted to say, but seeing him like this, finally, up close, was taking the words and the breath right from my mouth.
He stepped forward and asked with more confidence, "Sooo...what, Frankie?"
He leaned over me, palms digging into the mattress, and I pulled him down ontop of my half naked body. I kissed him and licked almost desperatly against his lips and in his sweet-tasting mouth.
I felt him groan softly and Gerard rocked his hips down against my thigh. With one hand still in his soft locks, he broke the kiss and yanked my shirt over my head. I watched his cheeks dimple between giggles and smiled back.
"I meant to s-say you're beautiful.", I reiterated, sliding my other hand down his gently curving back.
Gerard kissed me again. And again. And until our lips were pink and swollen and shiny.
He was rutting against my hip slightly and I was still leaking against the fabric of my boxers.
"You want th-these off?", Gerard asked me, truly looking innocuous. I still felt like I was making him do things he didn't want to do, but it could have just been my paranoia of spoiling his beautiful innocence.
Gerard stared at me, blinking a few times patiently. He really looked prepared to wait for my answer all night.
"I do if you do."
Gerard smiled excitedly and pulled on the elastic. It was a relief to be free to the air at last. But I had a question.
"Gee, aren't you going to close the curtains?"
He just shook his head and replied, "No. I don't care who sees me. We're all humans."
Just like that I didn't question him anymore.
Gerard slid down and kissed a trail down my tummy and through my pubic hair. Everything he did was so beautiful, even the way he blinked.
He wrapped his hand around my cock and it felt like a thousand volts. Then he put his mouth around me and I yelped a little. The inside of his mouth was hot and tight around me. I couldn't help but moan watching his pink lips stretch up and down my shaft, bobbing in even, complete strokes. I had to grip the sheets so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Then he stopped, and Jesus, I thought I would die. Gerard sat up and wiped his chin, which had gotten a bit messy. He kissed me after that. He almost looked tired; languid with hooded eyes and a messy kiss. I could definatly feel his own erection, though, on my thigh.
"Frankie...would you please...please...make love to me."
Gerard said this in a voice I barely recognized as his own. It sents shivers down my spine and made my chest tingle. This was my opportunity, Gerard wanted this. He wanted me.
"Yes, yes, Gee...", I whispered back quickly.
He touched my shoulder, "Don't rush."
I nodded and he dragged his nightstand drawer open with the twist of an arm. It happened to be somewhat of a pharmacy of it's own in there, and though it was unorganized, it wasn't difficult to find what I needed.
Gerard panted like he needed me, and he just kept touching any part of me he could reach while I slicked some lubricant over myself. I remembered as much as I could about how this worked from high school. There was no way I could stop now, not with Gerard chanting my name in every accentable way possible under his breath.
I straddled him at first and kissed him a few good times to quiet him down. Then, I drew one of his legs up, holding onto his thigh with his ankle over my shoulder.
I pressed one finger into him, watching his face for a reaction, and he was fine. With the second, he jittered a bit, but I wiggled them around and by the time I put a third finger inside of him he gasped, gripped my shoulder, and shuddered when I curled them around deeper.
I was going to die from anxiety, because now he rocked back against my digits and it was my turn.
I lined myself up against him and pressed just my tip in, and he arched his back, managing to look up at me with sparkling eyes and whimper. I slid the rest of the way in with a hard exhale and let Gerard's leg rest on the mattress again.
I kissed his cheek because he looked to flushed and beautiful not to, and then I started moving. I only moved my hips slowly, because the gradual drag felt so mind-blowingly good and Gerard was writhing under me with small whimpers. I wanted so much to hear him moan.
I kissed around his throat and met his lips a few times, and it was really just hitting me that me and Gerard were having sex. I'd dreamt of this a few times, of course, but it was never a s vivid or even close to being what this was.
I had to speed up a little because I wanted to go deeper and Gerard reacted by digging his blunt nails into my shoulders and--oh God, moaning.
The sound of Gerard moaning was like gorgeous fucking music, I swore. Real people didn't moan out symphonies, but fuck, Gerard could.
I knew I had hit his sweet spot when he called out my namea few times, and so I targeted that place again and again, and I could feel his thighs shaking around my waist.
"Oh, Frankie...Frankie, yes! There, oh God, Frankie...I-I I'm almost there..."
I could feel the building inside my stomach. I rolled my hips hurriedly and Gerard yelped a little when he came. His look was the best though; eyes pinned shut tightly, eyebrows stressed a little, mouth thrown open in a plump-lipped 'O'. He shook and finally gasped shakily, bucking his hips a little bit.
That really set me off and I was gone with the wind. I swore I saw stars as I came and it felt like the vibrating ecstasy lasted forever. When I opened my eyes to look down at Gerard, he was gazing up at me and it threw me for another loop.
I carefully pulled out of him with a comical popping noise that made Gerard giggle; with what energy, I do not know. I laid flat on his bed, our sides touching, for a few minutes of afterglow blitz.
Eventually I rolled over and smiled.
"You're so perfect."
Gerard smiled back and and moved closer. He reached down and pulled his blankets over us, wrapping us in linen and skin-to-skin warmth. Our legs got tangled and our arms snaked around eachother. It was like we'd been doing this forever.
I kissed him softly. "Gerard, I love you. I-I've been in love with you for a while now and i just...should have already told you."
Gerard curled up around me. "You...love...me. I-...oh, wow."
"I know. I've been...watching you. Even before I smashed your window. It was really creepy and I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't stay away. I didn't know how to approach you."
I half expected him to kick me out in disgust, but that wasn't the way Gerard was.
"I'm sorry. All I could think about was how much I wanted you to me mine." I murmured without any self-esteem, holding onto him.
"It's okay, Frankie. You...you would never hurt me, right? You promise?", he whispered, so softly I barely heard.
"I swear on my own grave. Never. Never ever.", I told him seriously, kissing his nose determinedly.
"Good. 'Cause I really want to be yours, too."