Genre: celebrity

Chapter 1: …is the Beast

Author: gee_point
Rating: R
Pairing: Gee/Mikey
Summary: How Gerard really lost his shirt, or: Mikey's morals don't go as deep as Gerard's
Warning: waycest
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the brothers, and all this never happened… wherein the "sadly" is the most important part…
A/N: Prequel to Sleeping Beauty..., it's okay, I guess

Mikey chuckled to himself, almost hiccuping, as he remembered a joke Frankie had told him once. Actually, he wasn't sure if it was a real joke or just some really bad case of twisting words. He probably would have been embarrassed by just thinking of it as funny had he been sober. But right now, it seemed like the best idea to share the laugh with Gee.

Getting up from the bed, he staggered over to Gerard, who was lying on the black carpet of the basement room, his bottle of whisky cradled to his side. Rather ungracefully, Mikey flopped down next to his brother. "Hey Gee," he slurred, laying his hand on Gerard's shoulder and shaking it lightly. But Gerard didn't answer. So Mikey leaned over him, looking down onto his relaxed face. "Hey GeeGee, you asleep?" Still, Gerard didn't react, even after Mikey had pinched his cheek repeatedly.

A wide grin spread across Mikey's face. He knew how heavy of a sleeper Gerard was when drunk. One could do almost everything to him. The ideas that came to his mind at that thought made Mikey's grin falter. It became a sad grimace. He had hoped these thoughts would leave him alone at least today. The only reason he had started drinking in the morning already was to forget, but obviously, it hadn't worked.

Huffing in resignation, he hunched over till he could lay his head, heavy from the booze, on Gerard's chest. From this perspective, he could see the burn mark from when Frankie and Gerard had wrestled once, and Frankie's lit cigarette had fallen from his lips by accident, scarring Gee's skin. And again, thoughts of licking and kissing it better came unbidden to Mikey's mind. 'Oh, fuck it all,' he thought, and straddled Gerard's hips. It was his birthday, after all, and his own brother hadn't even given him a present yet. Probably, he should simply take what he wanted.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Gerard's. Feeling the soft flesh beneath his made him even dizzier than he already was from the alcohol. Pulling back, he brought his hand up to Gerard's neck and encircled it, as if he wanted to press down. Not to kill Gerard, never, but to mark him, leave some physical sign of himself on his brother's skin. But he knew he couldn't, instead letting his fingers wander to Gerard's collar bones, which peeked out slightly through the neckline of Gee's shirt, entranced by the feeling of fragile bones beneath the skin.

He took the bottle of whiskey from Gerard's arm and drank down the liquid Gerard had left over. Discarding the empty bottle to the side, he leaned down again to attach his lips to Gerard's neck. He tasted of sweat and the alcohol that had spilled down his chin the many times he had started laughing about one thing or another while the open bottle still was at his mouth. He felt himself harden in his pants at this. Mikey always thought of knowing how someone tasted as something incredibly hot and intimate.

Licking his lips, Mikey opened his pants and pulled down his boxer briefs quickly, so he could touch himself. He wasn't going to make a sound. No matter how good it felt. For Gerard had told him once that God couldn't have his eyes everywhere at once, but he hears. Every little sound emitted by a creature, no matter how low its rank in the evolution charts, was carried to God. And so Mikey thought, if he didn't make a noise, maybe no one could punish him for this.

The unoccupied hand slipped beneath his shirt, stimulating his nipples, while the other picked up a nice, slow pace on his cock. Mikey's half-lidded eyes stayed on Gerard, imagining how he would look all hot and bothered, his face flushed, and hair tousled. He would love to hear Gerard moan his name in that unbelievable voice of his. But no. No matter what dirty promises these lips made by their lush fullness and the deep red coloring them, never would things sick enough to make Mikey happy slip from them.

Rubbing his thumb through the pre-cum gathering in his slit, he had to bite his lip to keep the sounds in. He reached up and stroked his glistening finger over Gerard's lips, spreading his pre-cum. The simple thought of it made him feel deep down dirty, but he couldn't stop himself from licking his pre-cum from Gerard's lips. The bitter taste mixed with alcohol and smoke, and made it even better. The sickness of enjoying this, doing this to his brother, brought him so close to climax.

Stroking himself again, Mikey had problems keeping his eyelids from drooping close. His breath was heavy, and his whole body felt oversensitive. From the slightly scratchy feeling of his shirt to his hair that tickled his nose, it all added together with the heat of his hand, driving him mad. And at last, he came, leaving an imprint of his teeth on his left hand and strings of white cum on Gerard's back shirt. "Fuck," he cursed, cleaning himself and zipping his pants back up, looking shocked at the evidence of his guilt.

His first impulse was to simply run from the room, but he knew Gerard would wake up eventually, and it wouldn't be the best if he did so with a come-covered shirt. What the hell had he been thinking? He was so fucked. Staring off into space, he pondered if Gerard would wake if Mikey would try and simply take off the shirt. After all, Gerard was quite heavy. Deciding to go for it while Gerard was still fast asleep, he pulled the hem up to his brother's armpits. Not without a bit of effort, because it was caught beneath Gerard.

Right when Mikey was about to position Gerard's arms over his head to ease the rest of the way, Gerard turned over, resting on his stomach now. Mikey froze, fearing his brother had woken, but after a minute without any proof of awareness, Mikey set back to work, trying as gently as possible to detach the shirt from Gerard. But the damn thing was caught on Gerard's chin. So, no matter how much he knew he had to be careful, he still was drunk, and drunkenness always made him impatient.

That's why, after another minute or two, he simply jerked on the shirt, suddenly relieved that Gerard had carpet in his room. He didn't want to imagine the sound Gerard's face colliding with wooden floorboards would have made. "Wow, you really are wasted, aren't you?" he addressed his brother, who was still lying there, oblivious to the world. And with that, he got up to go and hide the shirt in his room somewhere. Maybe he would clean it and give it back later. But maybe, he thought, he should just wash it and keep it as a kind of... inspiration.