Pairing: chubby!Frank x chubby!Gerard
Summary: Frank has been playing Leathermouth shows for over five years, but nobody has ever angered him like that chubby photographer.
Author's Notes: Gerard is 23 years old and is a student in art school. Frank is 28 years old. In their world, My Chemical Romance never existed, but Leathermouth does, yeah. They have been a band for a long time and they're quite successful, nationwide.
WARNING: abuse of the expression 'fucking' and probably dick.
This story goes out to Megan, because she wanted chubby!Frank fic. And also for Lauryn and Muranda, because they were very enthusiastic about this. I love you, gurls <3
Frank has been playing Leathermouth shows for over five years, but nobody has ever angered him like that motherfucking photographer. He's been at every show of this tour leg, as the band plays the local clubs where they first started, and he's always wearing his backstage pass. It reads PRESS in bold, red letters, and they shine under the stage lights, and so does the lens of the guy's huge camera.
The flash goes off again and Frank shouts the words of this song into the mic, falling on his back, trashing around, trying every disgusting movement he can think of. There is nothing in him to photograph, so Frank stays down on the floor and screams his angry lyrics, enjoying the brutal beat of the song he wrote and hopefully giving the audience a good time. They shout along with him; they shout the words back at Frank to every song and he pays them back by being the best, ugliest frontman he can be.
By the final song, the Motherfucking Photographer is still standing there, at the front, not even avoiding the blows to his head by the crazed audience behind him. Frank adverts his eyes, closes them, focuses on looking at this wonderful, tight crowd, but every time the flash hits, he's pulled in the guy's direction. He flips the camera off and once again there's a flash, and Frank screams the last words of the last song, and then the music stops abruptly, and the crowd goes fucking mad, but this Motherfucking Photographer won't put his fucking camera down. Frank has had enough. He's going to teach this fucking asshole a lesson or two.
He barely mumbles a thank you and flees from the stage, running to the dressing room with his fists clenched against his hips. He's fucking pissed at this Motherfucking Photographer, because he's been to every show with a PRESS backstage pass but has never interviewed the band or whomever. He's only taking pictures of whatever from the front row, never seeing anything around him except through the camera and that pisses Frank off a lot. He's been so edgy lately, anxious for the big festival they're gonna play in Europe next week, and this fucking guy won't back the fuck off.
Frank wants to confront him tonight, so he just gets a bottle of water from the dressing room and chugs it down his throat on his way to the club's backstage bathroom, where he throws the empty bottle at the mirror and goes open the tap on the sink, splashing his face. He turns it off again and breathes heavily, clenching his fists around the porcelain border, then decides to leave without checking the mirror or picking up the bottle. He stomps through the backstage hall and hisses at everyone he finds because he's in that mood. When Frank is like this, he will either punch or fuck someone, maybe both at the same time if he gets lucky, so no one he knows talks to him.
Finally, he gets to the club's main area. He can see the Motherfucking Photographer chatting to a couple of people and walks, furious, toward him. The conversation ends before Frank even gets there, so he just grabs the guy by his fucking throat and hisses in his face, "I don't want to see your fucking face ever again."
What an unforgettable night. It left Frank in such a state that he forgets to feed his dogs at home, and ignores the mirror when he walks in to the bathroom, and just sheds his clothes off and takes a cold shower. The water is fucking freezing and Frank snarls at it, but fists at his hard dick and jerks off furiously. He wishes it all down the drain and stays there under the stream of water, the soap lathering his skin sliding down his huge body, and he feels fucking ugly tonight.
That Motherfucking Photographer had to ruin his night, at a full house show that was so exciting because Frank gets to sleep at home, but the guy shows up, stays behind his fucking camera and takes pictures of whatever. And it gets Frank so fucking angry, because he's nothing to photograph anymore because his stupid stomach had to get fucking sick and he had to take the fucking meds and get fucking fat. He's usually pissed about it, but he has the band and he can shout it all out through every song they play, and it's fantastic. At least, until guys like that Motherfucking Photographer come and piss Frank off and, when he's angry, he gets turned on and, after he gets off, he gets really fucking sad because he's fucking fat and alone. "Fuck."
Frank hasn't seen the Motherfucking Photographer after the show, thankfully. The mood is still the same, since the band has to unwrap the night with interviews and sweaty photo shoots. He's always on the tips of his toes, snarling at everyone and mumbling inadequate answers to whatever questions, and he just wants out. Frank wants to get out, catch the fresh May breeze on his face and go to the bus, lie on his bunk and jerk off until his dick falls off. Otherwise he will implode and take it out on the interviewers.
Then, they help the crew with the equipment on stage and, as Frank helps Josh with a monitor, a flash appears in the dark. Frank takes the monitor to the van outside and, when they're back, Frank wipes the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand and another flash hits him. He turns his head in the right direction, finding the Motherfucking Photographer guy lurking behind a column. Well, Frank sees the lens of the camera and just knows it's him, but why the fuck does he have to take so many pictures? Usually Frank doesn't mind their fans, but this dude has been stalking Frank for over eight month. It's frustrating and soon Frank is fuming, and stomps toward that column.
The guy isn't there anymore, though; his camera is nowhere to be seen, but Frank is determined to find the guy's deal. He looks around and sees a foot getting out the side door, so he follows. Outside, the bright city lamps blind Frank, but he manages to see the Motherfucking Photographer, walking ahead of him, to the left of the club. Frank runs after him.
"Hey!" he shouts, but the guy doesn't react. Frank runs after him and feels his whole body shaking, his thighs rubbing together and his T-shirt is snugger than ever with these movements. This only makes Frank more pissed, because he was normal once and a fucking stomach bug ruined everything for him. He finally catches the guy and pulls on his arm, turning him around and backing him up against the nearest wall. "I'm talking to you! What the fuck are you doing here? I thought I'd told you I didn't want to see you again!"
The Motherfucking Photographer shudders a little, but he merely shrugs at Frank. Frank can feel the camera against his leg and shifts his weight a little, observing. This guy has a pretty face, kind of a feminine one, and his bright red hair glows under the city lights, and his eyes are wide and huge.
"I asked what the fuck are you doing here!" Frank repeats, pulling and pushing at the guy's shoulders so he hits the wall again. The guy shows Frank his pass, still not talking, but Frank slaps it away and punches him on the side. The guy bends and emits a hmph sound of some sort. The next time Frank pulls and pushes at his body, it's with one hand still on the shoulder and the other on his side, the one Frank just punched, and the guy flinches because it must hurt. Frank loves it, though. Frank loves that he can feel a little chub there too. He's not the only one, and rubs his hand there a little until the guy flinches again and Frank looks down at his pass and remembers that he's more pissed than turned on.
"Are you stalking me?" he asks, punching the guy again. This time, there is a painful sound, a clear one, and Frank smiles. "I don't even care. You piss me off so much."
Frank is practically snarling at the Motherfucking Photographer and bites on his lips, angrily, before turning him around and pushing him facefirst against the wall. The guy doesn't flinch; he kind of hums, but it fades when Frank punches him again, biting his bottom lip with the rush. "You must think you're so fucking hot, coming to every show, so fucking important. Why the fuck do you take so many pictures? Is there anything you want to see?"
The guy nods, or tries his best to, because Frank is pulling on his hair and lifting his face. "I'm working on an art project and—"
"So you're an artist?" Frank growls, scoffing because that doesn't even make sense. This guy should be panting canvases like he dyes his hair, or like Frank tattoos his skin, but instead he comes to shady rock clubs to take photographs of Frank's band. The guy tries to say something, apparently, but his words come all fumbled together. Frank doesn't really care, he must admit, because feeling like he isn't the only one with a little chub turns him on a little more. He bites and licks at the guy's jawline, before snaking his tongue over the guy's lips. They taste like nothing.
"I'm an art student," the Motherfucking Photographer finally replies. He keeps quiet, though, and gulps as he watches.
"Shouldn't you be, like…" Frank hesitates, distracted by the tingles on his dick. It's springing even more to life with the guy's chub rubbing against Frank's. "Drawing fucking superheroes in your bedroom, or something."
"I'm making a collage," he says, gulping again. Frank feels him shifting his weight from one leg to the other, nervous or anxious or feeling nothing, but he growls and bites at the guy's neck. Frank is very hot right now and he could use the quick release. He's breathing against the guy's earlobe when a flash appears out of nowhere. Frank is caught on camera.
"Motherfuck — argh!" he snarls, furious, shoving the guy's face at the wall. He doesn't contain it and asks, "What are you taking pictures of? I'm not that fucking pretty."
Frank punches him again and the guy bends forward, hips jumping backward and hitting Frank's crotch, and Frank's stomach shakes with it inside and out. He suddenly feels very disgusted, disgusting, because the stomach flu has vanished and Frank has finished taking his meds, and should have already stopped gaining weight. It's getting just a little too much and Frank is tired of his fucking fat.
"Oh but you are," Motherfucking Photographer says, voice loud and clear, earning him another punch to the side. The surprise comes afterward, when the guy that Frank is holding against the wall and punching on the side closes his eyes and inhales with Frank's next punch. He gasps.
"Oh! You fucking like this, oh my fucking god," Frank exclaims and pulls on the guy's earlobe, making him moan again. Frank is still hard from the show and the anger, so he buckles his hips up and punches him on the side once more, and slaps his ass next.
There's another flash from beneath and Frank grabs the guy's hands and takes the object. It's a nice camera and it feels heavy on Frank's hands, like Frank's dick feels in his pants, but Frank snaps a picture of the guy before he objects. Except he doesn't; he keeps pulling sexy faces and Frank keeps bucking up at them and shooting the scene once in a while.
For some reason, Frank is really into the idea of fucking this guy, smashing his pretty face for hiding behind a camera and punching on his side, excited to feel the pure adrenaline of an orgasm. Except he can't; someone calls Frank's name and he looks back at the club's door, listening to his friend who's saying that they need to go now. Frank grabs the guy's chin and brings it up, squeezing the jawbone there. He says, "You won't get lucky tonight."
The guy catches Frank off guard by turning his head to kiss Frank, finding his mouth easily. Frank fights him, pulls him away, grabs at his shoulders and squeezes them away, and then Frank is empty handed and kissed out because this was a trick. He gets it when the flash hits his face and he pulls away from the kiss, seeing a grinning Motherfucking Photographer. Frank gets one fist up to his face to punch him dead-on on that fucking smile, but there's another flash. Frank hates pictures. He snarls at the guy, smacks at his camera and hisses in his face, "You better be at the next show."
Frank gets home after the last show of the tour leg. Gerard is there, leaning against the wall by the front door, smoking and holding something in his other hand; it's something large. Frank rolls his eyes at the sight, although it's Gerard and they've been fucking for the past two weeks because Gerard had followed the band to fucking Europe and had photographed Frank on stage, in the dressing room and later on in his hotel room with his dick up Frank's ass. Yet every time Frank sees him after a show, he's pissed at something, either Gerard's camera or his absence or the simple thought that they have better sex just because Frank is angry. So he snarls at Gerard and asks, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I promised you I'd show you my collage," Gerard replies, in his loud voice because he's always like this, excited at something. Frank just wants to fuck it out of Gerard's face, and he thinks of a plan to get it done tonight.
"Maybe I changed my mind," he lies, getting his keys from the duffel bag over his shoulder and unlocking the door. Frank can see Gerard smiling at the side of his face and remembers that he's mad at Gerard because he wasn't at the show. That's the excuse tonight and he's thinking about his revenge, but he's interrupted by his dogs barking. They're four at the moment, and they're all tiny and ugly and they're all very loud, but they're the most beautiful things in Frank's life.
But Frank is pushed into the house and he gets angry, so he drops the bag on the floor and turns around to snarl at Gerard again and throw a slap across his face. Gerard grins, but Frank spins on his heels and stumps toward the kitchen, filling his dogs' bowls with food and water enough for a week, and checking that the pet door isn't blocked by anything. Then finally he clenches his hands into fists and goes find Gerard, and of course he's going to Frank's bedroom. Frank kicks at the door and it closes with a loud bang, as he snarls at Gerard yet again and grabs his collars, throwing him onto the bed.
Gerard laughs, of course; he always does because he loves these moody scenes. He loves when Frank is angry because for the past two weeks, it's been handjob after blowjob after Gerard's dick in Frank's ass, and of course Gerard is excited. Still Frank has other plans for him tonight.
Frank goes to the nightstand and grabs a pack of condoms, lube, a dildo and his pair of handcuffs. He waves them at Gerard, who is wide-eyed and looks ridiculous with his hands on his belt, but Frank grins at him because this idea pleases him. Gerard tries to get up, but Frank moves fast and lands on top of him, moving to straddle Gerard's chest and pulling on his hand as he struggles against Frank's grasp.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Gerard yells at Frank, but he doesn't reply. He closes one handcuff around the bars on the headboard of his bed and Gerard's wrist is next. Gerard still struggles and slaps at Frank with his free hand, but Frank won't duck; Frank's stronger than him, fatter than Gerard, and is used to beat Gerard up in bed, so Gerard stands no chance here.
Frank holds Gerard's free hand by the wrist with his left hand and uses the other to unbuckle his belt, get it off the loops of his white pants because he hasn't even changed out of his stage clothes. Then he ties Gerard's wrist with the belt, although Gerard keeps snapping his arm out of Frank's reach and using his elbow and yelling questions at Frank, but in the end Gerard is tied up on the bed using his legs to kick at Frank.
"You're mine tonight," he says and Gerard finally calms down and just lies there, wrists up against the headboard. Frank climbs down from the bed and takes Gerard's boots off, his socks, his pants and his underwear, then pulls at his T-shirt so it bundles up on Gerard's neck and it looks like Gerard is naked except for a fucking scarf. Frank grins down at him and touches his dick, which is only half hard, but Frank needs it harder than that, so he works on it. Gerard forgets the curses and starts moaning, starts bucking up into Frank's fist instead of fighting it, and it's the most gorgeous handjob Frank has given in twenty eight years. He has other plans, though, so he says, "Tonight, I'm going to fuck you."
Gerard stops moving and widens his eyes at Frank, because he's a fucking diva who has never let anyone touch his asshole. That's gonna change soon because he won't be able to stop Frank, and he has only the best ideas to initiate Gerard in the pleasures of taking a dick up his ass. Gerard protests, yelling, "What the fuck, no way! No one has ever dared touching me there, and it's not gonna be you."
"We'll see about that," Frank says over Gerard's yells, which don't stop. Gerard keeps shouting things at Frank, saying he won't let Frank do it, calling Frank a lot of dirty names, but it doesn't matter. Frank undresses himself until he's fully bare and the dry sweat from the show kind of glistens on his arms, but he doesn't bother to check. He only looks down at his dick over his stomach, fists at it and thumbs at the head. He's hard as a rock and it's the most painful he has ever felt. He gets back on the bed and straddles Gerard, who is pulling at the restraints on his wrists and bucks up to try and get Frank off of him, but Frank crawls over him and straddles his chest, snarling and ordering, "Suck."
Gerard looks at him weirdly, but he takes Frank's dick in his mouth and moans around it immediately. Frank grins and gets his hands on the headboard, grabbing it as he fucks Gerard's mouth. It's fucking awesome, very hot and wet and tight, and Gerard uses a lot of tongue and a bit of teeth, but he's used to blowjobs. He's actually excellent at them. Gerard looks up at Frank and opens his lips further apart, and Frank's dick falls into his throat, and Gerard doesn't gag or anything. Frank grins.
"You were made for cock-sucking, you fucking whore," he says. Gerard is the one moaning, though. Frank knows he loves sucking cock, loves the taste and the weight on his tongue and whatever else, so Frank fucks his mouth faster. Gerard loves pain and, funny enough, Frank loves giving him pain. He fucks down harder and Gerard widens his eyes, choking on Frank's dick, but it's the most wonderful thing Frank has ever felt. It's Gerard's throat gagging and closing around the head of his dick and it's fucking intense, and his stomach hurts from the pleasure and his balls squeeze from the inside, and he's close to coming. Frank pulls out.
He pulls out and crawls away from Gerard's face, watching Gerard panting and struggling with the restraints again. He adjusts his jaws and Frank grins down at him, waiting for the next yell. His dick is panging, demanding attention, but Frank waits until Gerard's eyes widen again. He doesn't yell, but he says, "Oh shit, Frank, please don't. I hate begging, but please. I don't wanna be fucked."
Frank only tells him not to worry and moves toward the nightstand, getting the dildo, the lube and the condoms, and putting them on Gerard's stomach. It's flabby and fucking beautiful, and Frank loves this natural baby chub, so he leans down to mouth at it. At the same time, he gets a condom, unwraps it and rolls it down the dildo; then he licks at Gerard's navel and gets a second condom, rolling it down on Gerard's hard, big dick. It's longer than Frank's, and much prettier. Frank kisses at Gerard's pubes and lubricates his dick, and hears Gerard asking, "I thought you were gonna fuck me?"
"I just did," Frank replies with a wide grin, because the anger is long gone and has been replaced by this anxiety to move along with his plan.
He leans forward and unfastens the belt from around Gerard's wrist, and throws it to the floor. They won't need it anymore. Frank puts the dildo in Gerard's hand and gets up, turning around and straddling Gerard's hips with his back and ass toward Gerard's face. Gerard moans and Frank feels something thin sliding up his ass. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Gerard with one finger there, then two fingers and, a few thrusts in, Gerard starts scissoring them, so the stretch is there and is amazing. He likes this, there's no way to hide it. While Gerard was made to suck dick, Frank was made to be fucked hard in his ass. Gerard is awesome at it, and soon he puts the dildo inside Frank and gets a good rhythm going. They only do this because Gerard's dick is huge and Frank needs the stretch first, but not for too long. He stops Gerard's hand and gets the dildo and all the other items, throwing them between Gerard's legs for later. Frank grins at them.
First, he lifts his ass and lets Gerard grab his dick, positioning it right. Then, Frank sinks down on it, slow, because Gerard's mushroom head is wide and stretches Frank's ass a lot, but once it's in Frank takes the rest of his dick easily. He's full with Gerard, and waits a little, so he can adjust, using this time to breathe in and enjoy the way Gerard is squeezing the flesh on Frank's ass. When Frank starts moving, he moans and Gerard moans with him. Simultaneously, Frank takes the condom off the dildo and rolls a new one down his special object, lubing it up next. He looks over his shoulder and finds Gerard with his eyes closed, because he always fucks with his eyes closed, and Frank starts moving faster and Gerard moans louder and relaxes. Then Frank mouths at two of his fingers and slides one inside Gerard's ass.
"Motherfucker!" Gerard protests in a shriek, bucking up and burying his dick deep in Frank's ass. It's only better, because Frank presses down and Gerard's hips fall on the bed, and Frank has an opportunity to ride him faster, still fucking Gerard with one finger. Then he adds a second finger and Gerard objects loud again, but Frank shuts him up with his ass. He knows how to control Gerard, and grins. Frank scissors his fingers and Gerard yells, "What the fuck, Frank! Stop, you shithead!"
He slaps at Frank's ass, but Frank loves it, of course. He moves faster, and fucks Gerard harder until his shouts of protest turn into moans. But of course, Frank still has his dildo on his other hand, so he removes his fingers and lets Gerard relax again, lets Gerard think it's all over. Frank rides fast and hard, and eventually finds his prostate, and it's good, but his brain is focused and Frank moves on to slide the dildo up Gerard's ass. Gerard shouts.
"Fuck you, Frank, shit," he yells, and keeps yelling curses and calling Frank names, and punching Frank's hip continuously. Frank never stops, though; he fucks Gerard and fucks himself, forcing the dildo in when Gerard expels it with his muscles. Frank knows he's probably hurting Gerard, but his ass around Gerard's dick should make it all better. Frank finds his own prostate again and moves the dildo unconsciously and Gerard howls into the bedroom air, bucking up and finally taking it. So Frank found Gerard's prostate.
He slides the dildo in the same direction and Gerard gasps, panting, moaning instead of yelling. Frank got it and he stops every movement, looking over his shoulder and searching something with his fingers. When he finds it, he says, "This isn't a dildo, Gerard."
He presses the button at the object's base and it vibrates, deep inside Gerard and against his spot. "It's a vibrator."
"Oh shit, oh fuck. Frank, son of a c— fuck youuu," he howls again, while Frank grins at him over his shoulder. Frank restarts moving his ass up and down, fast and hard and enjoying it at last. He holds the vibrator there and cups his other hand around Gerard's balls, feeling them, squeezing them. He can hear Gerard moaning and humming and cursing, and he can feel Gerard grasping at Frank's flesh on his side as he fucks Gerard in every way. This is definitely the best sex ever.
Then, Gerard bucks up hard, and his balls swell and empty, and Frank knows. He's coming. Frank keeps moving, but starts slowing down, and he massages Gerard's balls, and he moves the vibrator in and out, dragging out the best of Gerard's orgasm. In the end, as Frank looks over his shoulder, Gerard is lying there with one hand gripping the headboard, the other on Frank's thigh. He looks blessed out and relaxed, and that is fucking beautiful.
Frank stops and pulls out, watching Gerard's dick fall limp on his stomach and removing the used condom carefully. Throwing it at the nightstand and getting the key that lies there, Frank turns around and unlocks the handcuff, freeing Gerard's wrist. It falls on the mattress. Frank kneels next to Gerard, fisting at his dick, jerking off because Gerard looks too melted to do something to it. Yet Gerard opens his eyes and finds Frank's, moving immediately. Frank is surprised to see him getting on all fours and wiggling his ass, as the object in Gerard's ass vibrates down it and falls on the bed, but Frank only steps it out of the way because Gerard is saying, "Finish it in me."
"Fucking hell," Frank hisses, because he can't refuse this offer. He gets a condom as quickly as he can, before Gerard changes his mind. He curses while putting the rubber on his dick, because his hands are shaking, but then it's done and Frank slides behind Gerard and buries his dick in Gerard's ass. He hisses and moans at the feeling, saying, "What a sweet, sweet ass."
Gerard's ass is very hot and tight, and Frank is taking his virginity. And it's the most achieving moment in Frank's sex life. He doesn't bother to fuck Gerard slow, because he's stretched and prepped from the vibrator, so he goes hard and fast. Gerard is moaning, so it's mission accomplished. They both moan and curse, and Frank is sweating and almost there. He notices that Gerard is jerking off and slides one hand to Gerard's front, finding a small erection and wrapping his hand around Gerard's, helping him.
This is amazing, that Gerard got hard again just from being fucked, when he was such a fucking diva about his ass and proud that nobody had ever been in there. Well, Frank is now and it's a tight feeling, hot and delicious.
Frank fucks him faster, and moans, and hears Gerard moaning, but soon he comes. He sees white when he closes his eyes in his bliss, and bends over so he can lean his forehead on Gerard's back. It's such a great feeling. His balls pull from the inside and it hurts, and it's so good. "Fuuuck yeah."
He finishes jacking Gerard's dick, still buried in his ass because it's so hot, but then Gerard comes and collapses on the bed. Frank falls on top of him and his dick slides out, so Frank focuses on removing the condom, tying it and throwing it to the nightstand. He lies there, afterward, on top of Gerard's body as Gerard pants and hums and says, "You got me, Frank, fuck."
Gerard doesn't move. There's a buzz in the air and Frank looks around the bed, finding the vibrator, but he turns it off and throws it at the floor. Whatever. He can take care of it later. Now he just lies there, moving so he's on the mattress, facing Gerard's side and grinning wide. He doesn't bother to speak. Frank just lies there and wraps himself around Gerard, because he's larger and fatter, but he's the most confident Frank has ever felt about his chub. He kisses Gerard's ear and sighs, because he has the gorgeous, chubby art student and photographer in his bed.