It was no secret that Bert would fuck him if he wanted. In case Gerard had, by chance, misunderstood Bert's ever-so-subtle tongue in his mouth and hand on his ass during the nightly encore of "Under Pressure," Bert took all the ambiguity out of the situation when he announced to Blender magazine that "Gerard Way is by far the hottest piece of ass on the tour. We're all dying to get a hold of him" in response to a question about which bands Bert most enjoyed playing with.
So, yeah, no secret.
The question, since Bert's desires were so clearly (and repeatedly) expressed, was why Gerard was still saying no. It wasn't like Gerard wasn't interested--he'd be lying if he said that Bert's daily molestation didn't make him twitch in a really interested way-- and it wasn't like he'd never done things with a guy before, although really, he hadn't that often. But that wasn't it.
And it wasn't Bert himself, who was funny and sweet and sarcastic, and had been through enough scary drug shit to make Gerard feel like an amateur and still come out on the other side with his voice and his life and his feelings mostly intact. In fact, Gerard pretty thought Bert was the shit and sort of idolized him a little, even when they were standing face to face and Bert was saying something completely stupid. Basically, Gerard thought that Bert was the meow of the cat, the knees of the bees, the weeble of the wooble. Bert rocked.
"Then, please, please, Gerard, I'm begging you, sleep with the guy," Ray said one night after Bert had taken off for his own band's bus. "Because he's driving me fucking insane." Ray didn't share Gerard's affection for Bert. Ray thought of Bert as a cautionary tale. A really annoying cautionary tale who ate all their Fritos and never bought more.
"I dunno," Gerard said. He didn't. And he didn't know why.
So, finally, one night after the show had been great and they'd all had a couple of beers and the other guys had gone out into the parking lot behind the stage to light off fireworks and it was just him and Bert in the bus and Bert knelt between Gerard's knees and tried to kiss him, Gerard let him.
Bert was a great kisser--Gerard had already known as much from the stage interludes--but Bert in private was even better, slower and less showy, and Gerard found himself wrapping his fingers in Bert's hair and holding him close almost before he knew it. Bert's kissing grew harder and more scattered, and Gerard felt his hand on the zipper of his black dress pants only a second before Bert had them open, his palm hot through Gerard's underwear. "Okay?" he whispered in Gerard's ear, squeezing. Gerard shuddered.
"Yeah," he said.
Bert kissed his neck, lingering at the curve of Gerard's shoulder and biting down, his hand sliding over the underwear the whole time. Gerard sighed and tipped his head back against the seat, pressing his hips up into Bert's hand. Why the fuck hadn't he agreed to this before?
Bert slid down over him, shoving his shirt up with one hand, pulling his pants down with another, his mouth closing over Gerard's cotton underwear. His breath steamed and his tongue squirmed against Gerard's cloth-covered cock. His hair tickled Gerard's thigh. His fingers hooked into the elastic and tugged. Gerard lifted up. He couldn't think of anything but Bert's mouth and his cock and the sound of their breath rasping together. Bert pulled and his shorts came off with the pants and tangled around one ankle and that was it, he was naked, half-naked, and Bert's tongue was on him.
"Oh," Gerard breathed. He wanted to grab Bert's hair, fuck his mouth, press him down, but he settled for clutching the edge of the seat and lifting his leg until it rested on Bert's shoulder.
He was so good. Gerard didn't want to think about what that could mean, Bert's ability to almost deep throat or the practised contrapuntal swirl of his tongue to the motion of his mouth. It didn't seem polite to thrust your dick into someone's mouth and then wonder how he learned his technique. But still, he was really good. So good that Gerard's skin felt shivery and electric and too tight, like Gerard was going to burst out of it, maybe into Bert's mouth.
Bert surged forward, hooking one arm underneath Gerard's knee and pulling it up, opening him up and then he was there, kissing Gerard's mouth again, panting into it, his cock pressing urgently against Gerard's ass. "I won't," he gasped, when Gerard jerked back a little. "I won't, I promise. Just let me rub it." His hand circled Gerard's cock and stroked and Gerard arched up and nodded. It felt good, Bert's dick so close, rubbing against his opening, hot and wet. It made Gerard feel easy, but in a good way.
"Okay," he gasped.
Bert groaned and kissed him, his tongue swooping into Gerard's.
After that, it only took a minute. He came, crying out into Bert's mouth, his dick in Bert's hand, Bert's cock hard against his ass, and, though he knew the sound of fireworks was real, the sound of his friends just fucking around, it felt like something that came from his body.
And then he opened his eyes and looked over Bert's still-moving shoulder, past Bert's swaying hair, and saw Frank standing in the doorway, his jacket in his clenched hands, an unscrutable look on his face and thought "Oh, right," and wanted to die.