HeatherLI (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lemon__crush) wrote,@ 2007-03-15 19:04:00 |
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MCR RPS; Frank/Gerard; R
Title: Chlorine
Author:coffeewordangel
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fake
A/N: This is sobloodlilly02's fault. She so much as mentions Frank as a pool boy and my brain is all "hey, write that!" and no one talked me out of it. ;P
Some days Frank loves his job; other days he thinks if he has to fish out one more condom clogging a drain he’s going to scream. For the most part, though, it’s kind of the perfect job. He works in the mornings, occasionally fucks a bored housewife or two who think they’re being adventurous by screwing a tattooed college kid, goes to class in the afternoons and, if he has the energy, picks up some hot-ass guy to fuck in the evening. Life is pretty good.
He took over Todd’s route his freshman year. Todd, his pool guy mentor, is tall and blond and pretty in a Calvin Klein model sort of way and pretty much the exact opposite of Frank physically. He’s also not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, but he gives great head and he handed the job over to Frank on a silver platter, so Frank can forgive a little bit of idiocy. Especially if the bored housewives keep on slipping extra money in with his pay.
Most of Frank’s clients are older; women with more botox than personality and a bunch of absent husbands who throw money around to ease their consciences. It’s all a horrible cliché but it tends to work out in Frank’s favor and, really, it’s none of his business. After all, he’s just the guy who cleans the pool. If he makes them able to pretend they’re twenty again, then who is he to argue? He’s well compensated and he’s found that desperate forty-somethings try a little harder than girls his own age.
Still, it is just a job and when he’s done for the day he doesn’t take any of its problems or moral dilemmas with him. He goes home and washes sweat and chlorine from his skin and heads to class with no worries other than upcoming midterms and whether or not he’ll feel up to clubbing tonight.
Every other Friday, Frank cleans the pools of the Troutmans and their neighbors the Ways. The Troutmans are never home, but he sees Mrs. Way fairly often. He wouldn’t mind hitting that; she’s hot and only a couple years older than he is, but she seems devoted to her husband. Frank has never met the elusive Mr. Way and, from the few conversations with his wife, it seems he’s away on business a lot.
Today neither of the happy couple seem to be home so Frank sets about his business. He nearly has a heart attack when a man steps out of the shadows of the large maple tree. Frank tries not to tremble as the man rakes a hot gaze over him. He’s being undressed in this guy’s head. It’s happened enough times that he recognizes the look. He just wishes he were being actually undressed instead of just mentally.
“Um, Mr. Way?”
The man chuckles and cards a hand through his short black hair. “Mr. Way is my dad. Call me Gerard.”
Frank licks his lips. This guy is so his type. “I’m Frank.”
“So. You’re the pool boy.”
“Generally I prefer ‘pool maintenance’ but you can call me whatever you want,” Frank flirts. This is wrong. He likes this guy’s wife, respects her, even. She never treats him like hired help and she seems really nice. Still, sex radiates from Gerard like the sun and Frank has never been particularly strong willed.
Gerard steps a little closer. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Well, I’d like something,” Frank replies suggestively, trailing a finger down Gerard’s arm.
Gerard laughs. “This is edging into ridiculous. Do you want to come inside? No one’s home.”
Which is how Frank finds himself bent over the kitchen table, board shorts around his ankles, on the receiving end of one of the best fucks he’s ever had. Gerard seems determined to reduce Frank to a boneless mass. By the time he comes, he’s grateful for the table because he’s not sure his legs will support him anymore. So he lays across the now slightly sticky surface, muscles trembling, while Gerard finishes.
“Mmm,” Gerard mumbles against the nape of Frank’s neck. “How soon are you coming back?”
Frank takes an unsteady breath. “Friday after next.”
“Too long,” Gerard declares. “Can you come over Monday? Say, around three?”
It takes around half a second of deliberation before Frank decides this man is totally worth skipping class for. He’s sexy and mysterious and doesn’t seem to mind Frank’s predilection for sex without strings. Or, you know, niceties of any kind, like basic conversation.
“Monday’s good.”
***
Frank’s been fucking Gerard on a daily basis for a week. He’s beginning to lose his philosophy of leaving work at work. In fact, Gerard seems to have overtaken Frank’s every waking thought. He hasn’t been able to fuck anyone else, and not for lack of trying. Also, his conscience has decided to rear its head for the first time in his life. It’s frustrating and taking most of the pleasure out of Gerard riding his cock, strong thighs gripping Frank’s hips. Okay, no, that’s still pretty awesome, but nonetheless, his conscience is distracting.
“God that was good,” Gerard sighs, collapsing onto the mattress.
Frank nods and catches his breath. “Okay, so, I don’t normally say anything but I’m having an attack of conscience and your wife seems really nice. Should you be cheating on her with me?”
Gerard gets a strange look on his face and props himself up on his elbow. “Should you be helping me cheat on my wife?”
Frank bites his lip and tries not to arch into Gerard’s palm caressing his abdomen. “No. I really shouldn’t. But I’m kind of weak.”
“And slutty,” Gerard teases.
“I prefer ‘easy’,” Frank replies. “But I kind of think you’ve ruined me for everyone else ever.”
Gerard scrapes his teeth over Frank’s jaw. “I’ll consider that an accomplishment.”
***
Another week and Frank realizes he’s halfway in love with someone else’s husband. He feels sleazy and horrible and he’s a nervous wreck. Every time there’s the slightest noise in the house he’s terrified it’s Gerard’s wife coming home. He can’t even enjoy the amazing sex. Much.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Frank states miserably, hands in his pockets so he’s not tempted to touch. “I just…I can’t.”
Gerard looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
“What?” Frank demands.
“Oh, Frank. Alicia’s not my wife, she’s my sister-in-law. She’s married to my younger brother,” Gerard confesses.
“So…you’re not married?” Frank feels a little light headed.
Gerard leans closer. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m kind of really, really gay.”
Frank gapes at him a moment before the anger creeps in. “You fucking liar. I’ve been killing myself over this and you’re not even married? Fuck you.”
He goes to leave but Gerard’s blocking the door. “No, wait,” Gerard pleads. “It’s not like that. I swear. At first it was going to be a one time thing, you know? I’d indulge in a little fantasy and fuck the pool boy and that would be it. But you’re really hot and you have a great ass and so I’m like, once more, right? Then it turns out that you’re funny and smart and I actually really like you but you seem to get off on sneaking around and I figure, what could it hurt? Neither of us was actually doing anything wrong and then it sort of got out of hand and I wasn’t sure how to tell you the truth without you storming out like you’re doing right now.”
Frank should leave anyway. He has every right to be pissed off, but Gerard looks miserable and apologetic and entirely too adorable. “You suck,” Frank states.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Gerard asks hopefully.
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy. You have to work for it. I’m thinking buying me dinner would be a good start.”
Gerard’s smile is cautious. “So are we…dating?”
Frank smirks at him. “What, now you want exclusive rights to this ass?”
Gerard’s hands snake over Frank’s hips to squeeze the ass in question. “I’m a tad possessive. It’s a fault.”
“Mmhmm,” Frank murmurs, trying not to melt. “Any other faults I should know about?”
A wicked grin tilts the corners of Gerard’s mouth. “So, about that dinner…”
Frank laughs. “Fuck it. Order a pizza and come over to my apartment and we’ll call it good. Although, I might make you give me a massage before we fuck. I work very hard, you know.”
“Oh, absolutely. All those bored housewives to pleasure. Must be tough.”
Frank flushes. “Shut up. I haven’t done that since we hooked up the first time.”
Gerard pulls back. “What?”
“I told you that you’d ruined me for everyone else,” Frank mutters.
“You were serious about that?”
“Apparently.”
Gerard grins and drags Frank close again. “How long do I have to wait till dinner?”
“Well, it’s ten a.m., so if you take me back to my place now we have at least seven hours till dinnertime,” Frank invites. “I can think of a lot of ways to spend seven hours.”
“I bet you can,” Gerard murmurs against Frank’s mouth. “Come on, you nympho. We haven’t fucked in at least twelve hours and I think I’m going through withdrawals.”
“Oh and I’m the nympho? Go get your car, you freak. If you’re good I’ll blow you at that stoplight on Pine that takes forever to change.”
Gerard laughs and kisses him firmly. “Deal.”
Title: Chlorine
Author:
coffeewordangelPairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fake
A/N: This is so
bloodlilly02's fault. She so much as mentions Frank as a pool boy and my brain is all "hey, write that!" and no one talked me out of it. ;PSome days Frank loves his job; other days he thinks if he has to fish out one more condom clogging a drain he’s going to scream. For the most part, though, it’s kind of the perfect job. He works in the mornings, occasionally fucks a bored housewife or two who think they’re being adventurous by screwing a tattooed college kid, goes to class in the afternoons and, if he has the energy, picks up some hot-ass guy to fuck in the evening. Life is pretty good.
He took over Todd’s route his freshman year. Todd, his pool guy mentor, is tall and blond and pretty in a Calvin Klein model sort of way and pretty much the exact opposite of Frank physically. He’s also not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, but he gives great head and he handed the job over to Frank on a silver platter, so Frank can forgive a little bit of idiocy. Especially if the bored housewives keep on slipping extra money in with his pay.
Most of Frank’s clients are older; women with more botox than personality and a bunch of absent husbands who throw money around to ease their consciences. It’s all a horrible cliché but it tends to work out in Frank’s favor and, really, it’s none of his business. After all, he’s just the guy who cleans the pool. If he makes them able to pretend they’re twenty again, then who is he to argue? He’s well compensated and he’s found that desperate forty-somethings try a little harder than girls his own age.
Still, it is just a job and when he’s done for the day he doesn’t take any of its problems or moral dilemmas with him. He goes home and washes sweat and chlorine from his skin and heads to class with no worries other than upcoming midterms and whether or not he’ll feel up to clubbing tonight.
Every other Friday, Frank cleans the pools of the Troutmans and their neighbors the Ways. The Troutmans are never home, but he sees Mrs. Way fairly often. He wouldn’t mind hitting that; she’s hot and only a couple years older than he is, but she seems devoted to her husband. Frank has never met the elusive Mr. Way and, from the few conversations with his wife, it seems he’s away on business a lot.
Today neither of the happy couple seem to be home so Frank sets about his business. He nearly has a heart attack when a man steps out of the shadows of the large maple tree. Frank tries not to tremble as the man rakes a hot gaze over him. He’s being undressed in this guy’s head. It’s happened enough times that he recognizes the look. He just wishes he were being actually undressed instead of just mentally.
“Um, Mr. Way?”
The man chuckles and cards a hand through his short black hair. “Mr. Way is my dad. Call me Gerard.”
Frank licks his lips. This guy is so his type. “I’m Frank.”
“So. You’re the pool boy.”
“Generally I prefer ‘pool maintenance’ but you can call me whatever you want,” Frank flirts. This is wrong. He likes this guy’s wife, respects her, even. She never treats him like hired help and she seems really nice. Still, sex radiates from Gerard like the sun and Frank has never been particularly strong willed.
Gerard steps a little closer. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Well, I’d like something,” Frank replies suggestively, trailing a finger down Gerard’s arm.
Gerard laughs. “This is edging into ridiculous. Do you want to come inside? No one’s home.”
Which is how Frank finds himself bent over the kitchen table, board shorts around his ankles, on the receiving end of one of the best fucks he’s ever had. Gerard seems determined to reduce Frank to a boneless mass. By the time he comes, he’s grateful for the table because he’s not sure his legs will support him anymore. So he lays across the now slightly sticky surface, muscles trembling, while Gerard finishes.
“Mmm,” Gerard mumbles against the nape of Frank’s neck. “How soon are you coming back?”
Frank takes an unsteady breath. “Friday after next.”
“Too long,” Gerard declares. “Can you come over Monday? Say, around three?”
It takes around half a second of deliberation before Frank decides this man is totally worth skipping class for. He’s sexy and mysterious and doesn’t seem to mind Frank’s predilection for sex without strings. Or, you know, niceties of any kind, like basic conversation.
“Monday’s good.”
Frank’s been fucking Gerard on a daily basis for a week. He’s beginning to lose his philosophy of leaving work at work. In fact, Gerard seems to have overtaken Frank’s every waking thought. He hasn’t been able to fuck anyone else, and not for lack of trying. Also, his conscience has decided to rear its head for the first time in his life. It’s frustrating and taking most of the pleasure out of Gerard riding his cock, strong thighs gripping Frank’s hips. Okay, no, that’s still pretty awesome, but nonetheless, his conscience is distracting.
“God that was good,” Gerard sighs, collapsing onto the mattress.
Frank nods and catches his breath. “Okay, so, I don’t normally say anything but I’m having an attack of conscience and your wife seems really nice. Should you be cheating on her with me?”
Gerard gets a strange look on his face and props himself up on his elbow. “Should you be helping me cheat on my wife?”
Frank bites his lip and tries not to arch into Gerard’s palm caressing his abdomen. “No. I really shouldn’t. But I’m kind of weak.”
“And slutty,” Gerard teases.
“I prefer ‘easy’,” Frank replies. “But I kind of think you’ve ruined me for everyone else ever.”
Gerard scrapes his teeth over Frank’s jaw. “I’ll consider that an accomplishment.”
Another week and Frank realizes he’s halfway in love with someone else’s husband. He feels sleazy and horrible and he’s a nervous wreck. Every time there’s the slightest noise in the house he’s terrified it’s Gerard’s wife coming home. He can’t even enjoy the amazing sex. Much.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Frank states miserably, hands in his pockets so he’s not tempted to touch. “I just…I can’t.”
Gerard looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
“What?” Frank demands.
“Oh, Frank. Alicia’s not my wife, she’s my sister-in-law. She’s married to my younger brother,” Gerard confesses.
“So…you’re not married?” Frank feels a little light headed.
Gerard leans closer. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m kind of really, really gay.”
Frank gapes at him a moment before the anger creeps in. “You fucking liar. I’ve been killing myself over this and you’re not even married? Fuck you.”
He goes to leave but Gerard’s blocking the door. “No, wait,” Gerard pleads. “It’s not like that. I swear. At first it was going to be a one time thing, you know? I’d indulge in a little fantasy and fuck the pool boy and that would be it. But you’re really hot and you have a great ass and so I’m like, once more, right? Then it turns out that you’re funny and smart and I actually really like you but you seem to get off on sneaking around and I figure, what could it hurt? Neither of us was actually doing anything wrong and then it sort of got out of hand and I wasn’t sure how to tell you the truth without you storming out like you’re doing right now.”
Frank should leave anyway. He has every right to be pissed off, but Gerard looks miserable and apologetic and entirely too adorable. “You suck,” Frank states.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Gerard asks hopefully.
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy. You have to work for it. I’m thinking buying me dinner would be a good start.”
Gerard’s smile is cautious. “So are we…dating?”
Frank smirks at him. “What, now you want exclusive rights to this ass?”
Gerard’s hands snake over Frank’s hips to squeeze the ass in question. “I’m a tad possessive. It’s a fault.”
“Mmhmm,” Frank murmurs, trying not to melt. “Any other faults I should know about?”
A wicked grin tilts the corners of Gerard’s mouth. “So, about that dinner…”
Frank laughs. “Fuck it. Order a pizza and come over to my apartment and we’ll call it good. Although, I might make you give me a massage before we fuck. I work very hard, you know.”
“Oh, absolutely. All those bored housewives to pleasure. Must be tough.”
Frank flushes. “Shut up. I haven’t done that since we hooked up the first time.”
Gerard pulls back. “What?”
“I told you that you’d ruined me for everyone else,” Frank mutters.
“You were serious about that?”
“Apparently.”
Gerard grins and drags Frank close again. “How long do I have to wait till dinner?”
“Well, it’s ten a.m., so if you take me back to my place now we have at least seven hours till dinnertime,” Frank invites. “I can think of a lot of ways to spend seven hours.”
“I bet you can,” Gerard murmurs against Frank’s mouth. “Come on, you nympho. We haven’t fucked in at least twelve hours and I think I’m going through withdrawals.”
“Oh and I’m the nympho? Go get your car, you freak. If you’re good I’ll blow you at that stoplight on Pine that takes forever to change.”
Gerard laughs and kisses him firmly. “Deal.”
