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“God, fucking— shit— fucking shit.”
It’s a whole thing. The sound of rummaging as backpacks and suitcases are torn apart can be heard throughout the entire bus. Clothes hit the wall with a dull thud and slide to the ground. Papers with notes and lyrics and little odds and ends follow suit. The entire bunk area is a mess, and Frank couldn’t care less.
He’s in trouble. He’s in big fucking trouble.
“Did you find them?” Ray calls. He’s doing a poor job of hiding the panic in his voice. It lilts up at the end, impossibly high-pitched and rippling off the walls. He’s at the front of the bus, tearing apart cabinets.
“No.”
Ray is the only one who bothered to stick around and help. Brian left to ‘make a few phone calls.’ Mikey hasn’t been seen since last night and doesn’t even know what is happening. Bob took one look at the scene unfolding inside and arranged other sleeping accommodations on someone else’s bus.
Gerard’s been pacing the perimeter of the parking lot for hours. Frank hasn’t seen him since the first sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“God dammit, Frank. What did you do with them?”
“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t fucking know.” Frank’s starting to lose his cool here. He’s gone from warmth settling over his skin to a burning heat building in his belly in a matter of hours. It’s coming on quick, and if he doesn’t find his fucking suppressants, there’s no stopping it.
It might already be too late.
The chaos of Warped is already bad enough: disorganization, shit hygiene, long days. Every day is a new city with a new crowd in the hot sun. All he does is wake up, eat, play guitar, and sleep. The moments in between it are all a blur of setting up and breaking down, drinking between the buses, and fucking around with other bands. He didn’t even know his cycle was approaching heat until the moment he woke up. He could feel the distant thrumming under his skin, a nervous sort of energy that told him, hey, you better get ready.
The signs were obvious, but he missed them underneath the insane whirlwind of the summer tour.
And now he’s fucked.
“I’ve never lost them before,” he calls out to Ray. He’s said it a million times, but it bears repeating. He can’t stop himself from repeating it. “I’ve never messed my cycle up. Never.”
“I know,” Ray says. He’s trying to be reassuring, but Frank knows he’s nervous about how this is going to go. He’s more attuned than he normally is, his hearing amplified tenfold to pick up the slightest changes in tone. He has to bite his inner cheek to stop himself from physically reacting. He can feel his instincts taking hold of him, and what might have been a fiery response before feels more dulled, obedient, submissive.
He's the only omega on the bus. Everyone else is either an alpha or a beta, which both complicates and simplifies things. On one hand, Frank doesn’t have to worry about mixing up medications or syncing heat cycles. On the other hand, he’s surrounded by people who don’t understand the biological advantage they have over him.
Not that Frank feels inferior to them, not by any means. It’s just that when he gets like this, he isn’t exactly in his right mind when he gets like this.
Ray, for example, is probably the sweetest fucking person to ever exist. He keeps to himself, constantly tweaking their music and writing new rifts. He’s the first to help when someone’s struggling, and he’s the mediator in all their stupid fights.
He’s not the kind of person who wants to have any power over another person. And yet, here they are: Frank fighting the urge to get on his knees and ask for forgiveness for fucking up, or asking for his cock if he hits the full effect of his heat.
Ray wouldn’t. Ray would never. But the fact of the matter is Frank knows if he doesn’t get this under control soon, shit’s going to hit the fan.
He’s watching Frank from the front of the bus, cautious. “Listen, I think maybe we should prepare for the worst, here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means, Frank.” He doesn’t want to know. In fact, if he had it his way, he’d just be able to strong-arm his way out of it. Get through with gritted teeth and white knuckles. “We should start setting up the lounge.”
“For what?”
“You’re going to need somewhere to stay, and it can’t be in your bunk. It’s not big enough, and you’ll be too uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, because that’s going to make a difference,” he scoffs. He doesn’t mean to catch an attitude, but the heat is starting to spread out from his belly and down his legs. It doesn’t hurt yet, but it’s going to.
“You’ll thank me in a few days.”
Fuck. This is going to put him out for at least two shows, if not three. This is going to fuck up the Warped schedule. It’s going to fuck up the band. His stupid fucking body is going to ruin their entire career. How long until they become sick of this shit? If Frank’s fucked up his pills once, he’ll fuck them up again. Brian will take one look at him after this and decide he’s not worth the chance. An omega who can’t control his heat is a liability. Canceled tour dates, lost money, disappointed fans.
Why take the risk?
It’s as if Ray can read the spirals in his mind, though, because he quickly follows up with, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll call in a favor.”
He must be getting worse, because Ray digs through a pile of clothes and finds a bandana he quickly wraps around his nose and mouth. He looks fucking stupid.
Frank lets him pass by and suppresses a low growl when Ray gathers his blanket and pillow from his bunk, bringing it into the lounge. Frank watches as he throws some things around, clearing the bed off and putting Frank’s shit right in the middle. “Grab some hoodies or something. Something that’ll make you feel better.”
He’s nesting for him. Or, at least trying to. Sweet motherfucker.
They do what they can, killing time until Brian returns to deliver the final verdict— the nail in Frank’s metaphorical coffin.
The entire band is in the front of the bus, everyone sitting down except for Frank. No one looks at him. The world passes by outside as the tour moves on to the next state.
“I wasn’t able to get you any emergency medication. Pharmacies were giving me a hard time with being out of state. They said it wasn’t their problem and they wouldn’t be held liable if something went wrong. So, it looks like we’re hunkering down through this.”
The only sound on the bus is the rumble of the engine as it clambers over dimly lit highways. It almost feels like a death sentence Brian is delivering. We’re hunkering down through this.
No, not we. There is no we here. Frank’s hunkering down. Frank’s going to be the one going through this. Alone. In the back of the bus. For days.
“Whatever,” he cuts. No one looks at him. “Fuck this.” He gets up to head back and lock himself up, a prisoner to his own body. “Thanks for trying, Brian.”
He doesn’t slam the door to the lounge, even though he wants to. He doesn’t want to take this out on anyone else. It’s his fault. He’s the one who lost his stupid fucking pills.
He keeps the light off and gets into the bed. His own scent surrounds him, giving him some level of comfort.
God, he’s so pissed at himself. The last time he went through a full-blown heat was years ago. Before he committed to his music career. Long before My Chem was booking shows.
He’ll be fine. It’s survivable, if not massively inconvenient. At least it’s not his first heat. At least he knows what to expect.
There’s no point in keeping his clothes on, so he strips and tosses everything to the other side of the bed. He’ll use it later to fix up his nest. He’s too agitated right now.
His cock stirs not long after, heat settling into his skin as soon as his body registers that he’s safe. Tucked away from the prying eyes of his bandmates, burrowed into his makeshift den.
Frank sighs and rubs one out quickly. It does little to soothe the knots in his stomach. He’s starting to produce slick, so he doesn’t bother cleaning himself off. He’s going to be disgusting by the end of this, anyway. This is only the beginning. Might as well get used to it.
At home, he’s got toys. Any shape, size, and thickness he wants. Different knot sizes, different textures. Every omega has a collection because every omega knows that it’s easier to work up to the most intense cocks as a technique to stave off the worst of the heat.
Here, though, Frank’s got nothing but his own hands.
And it’s not fucking enough.
He cycles through it for the next few hours, his heat getting worse with each pathetic orgasm he gives himself. He tries to finger himself but can only get so deep on his own. It’s not enough, never enough, and it almost makes him burn up more.
A few days. He can do a few days of this.
He ends up so lost in it, so deep in his own discomfort, he doesn’t hear the knock at the door. Doesn’t even realize someone’s coming in until he can’t ignore it.
Gerard’s scent floods his nose. It’s honey-sweet in a way it shouldn’t be, not with how disgusting Gerard has been on this tour. Frank knows for a fact he hasn’t showered in days. He’s caked in sweat and dirt and sun and smells like ass any other day of the week. But now, right now, he smells like the sweetest thing in the world to Frank.
Like comfort and home and need. Fuck— need. Frank needs him. He needs him more than he needs air. He wants to bury his nose in the side of Gerard’s neck, right where his scent is the strongest, and allow himself to fall headfirst into it.
Fuck, wait. No. No. He doesn’t want that. Gerard doesn’t want that. They’re bandmates. They’re friends. He can’t want Gerard like this.
It’s not him. It’s not his right mind. It’s his fucking heat.
“Hey, man,” Gerard says. He’s standing by the door, backlit by the fluorescents from the bunks. Frank’s eyes burn from the change in brightness. “How’re you holding up?”
He sniffles dimly. His entire body is on fire right now. He’d gotten himself off not even five minutes ago, quietly through tears in the dark. Gerard has to smell it on him, the stench of cum mixed with shame and desperation. He must think so lowly of him.
“M’fine,” he answers because what else is there to say? Nothing. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“M’fine,” Gerard echoes. His shoulders are drawn taut, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Behind him, Frank can hear the distant sounds of Ray plucking chords on an unplugged guitar. Otherwise, the bus is quiet. “I just wanted to check on you. See if you’re alright.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to be alone with an omega in heat before?” Frank says. He smiles at himself, happy with the way he’s still able to be an asshole. His heat hasn’t taken him completely over yet.
Gerard smiles back. It feels easy for a second. It feels normal. Like Frank isn’t lying in a makeshift nest, helpless to his own hormones.
It hits him, then, like a fucking Mack truck. Just how exhausted he is, and just how much there is left to go. This is only the first night. He has at least one more to go, and that’s only if his body is kind to him.
His body has never shown him mercy before.
Something akin to desperation floods his system. He feels the fever spike intensely, radiating down his arms and legs. A new wave of slick leaks out under the blanket and Frank is grateful Gerard can’t see him for all he is right now.
“Gee,” he sobs, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
He’s never hit a heat completely alone like this. Any other time he’s gone through this, he was in the comfort of his own home. He had all the medicine, supplies, and space he needed. He didn’t feel so cut off from the world. So isolated. It’s so much worse to know there are people right on the other side of the door.
His whole body is shaking. He’s covered in sweat and slick, lying in a mess of himself on the bed. It doesn’t matter how many times he tugs at his own cock. He doesn’t feel any better. He can’t fuck himself through it, either. He tried. His fingers aren’t big enough, and he doesn’t have the angle to get deep enough. He can’t fill himself up.
“I don’t know what to do. It’s not enough,” he whines.
The implication hangs heavy in the air around them. Frank’s words, Gerard’s interpretation of them. He doesn't even know why he said it. What is he even expecting Gerard to do?
“We’ll be in the next city in the morning.” Gerard offers. It feels like a compromise. “We can stop somewhere and get you something. A toy, with a big knot that you can use.”
“No, please, no,” spills out of him unconsciously. He’s begging and he knows what for, but he also knows it’ll never happen. It can’t happen.
“It’ll help, Frankie. I promise. You just have to make it through ‘til then. A few hours. It’s only a few hours.”
“Please.” Frank is choking on his own voice, now. Shame follows suit, and the cold wash of it brings him back to reality. “Fuck, no. I’m sorry, Gee.”
“It’s fine,” Gerard says. His voice remains that even, sympathetic tone. “You’re in heat. It’s got to be rough.”
There’s something in the way Gerard says it. Maybe it’s his tone, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Gerard who’s the one saying it, but Frank finds himself slipping back again. “It hurts.”
“I know, baby.”
The word baby sinks so deep into Frank that he can feel it in his fucking blood. It thrums around inside of him and makes him feel crazy, makes the heat spike so high Frank didn’t even know he could feel so hot. It’s unbearable.
He takes a deep breath in through his nose, a needy attempt to ground himself, but all he can smell is Gerard. All he can smell is an alpha in the room with him, so fucking close yet so far away.
Maybe, just maybe, if he can reach out, touch him, it would be enough to soothe the fever.
“Can you hold me?” Frank asks. He’s almost pleading, but not quite. More like bargaining.
“Frank.”
“Please.” God, he sounds like such a bitch, but he needs it. He just needs someone to touch his skin, someone to share the heat with. Being held would be enough. There’s a gnawing feeling in his bones that he doesn’t think he can deal with alone. Not anymore. Not now that someone is so close to him, their body calling out to his. “Just, it hurts, Gee. Not just— but everything. It’ll help.”
Gerard is nothing but a silhouette in the doorway, shoulders drawn tight and posture stiff. Frank can’t see his face, but he bets if he could, he would see a clenched jaw, drawn brows.
“This isn’t a good idea,” Gerard finally says, but he’s already moving into the room. Frank doesn’t bother questioning him when he shuts the door behind him, stepping fully into the darkness. It takes another moment for his eyes to adjust, to fully see Gerard as he slowly, slowly crosses the room toward him. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Frank reasons. His voice is steady, somehow. Steadier than it’s been since Gerard first opened his door.
“Not yet.”
“We won’t. I promise.”
Gerard hesitates right at the foot of his bed, taking in the sight of Frank. Only his lower half is covered by the blanket, and that’s only for decency's sake. His skin is shiny, and his hair is completely disheveled. He needs a shower, but it would be nothing but a waste of time and precious energy.
The bed dips under Gerard’s weight, causing Frank to roll backward into him as he settles behind him. His touch is cautious, restrained, as he lays down. He doesn’t wrap his arms fully around him the way Frank wants him to, but instead settles one hand on his waist.
Frank sighs in relief. Even with the hesitant touch, he’s still pressed almost fully against Gerard. It’s as if the contact is enough to siphon some of the heat out of him and pass it along. Sharing it with someone else.
“Better?”
“Better.”
They fall into a companionable silence. It’s not uncomfortable, thank god, and Frank can feel himself starting to drift off. He can almost feel Gerard’s heartbeat against him, can feel the cadence of his breathing. His scent is all but surrounding him, blanketing him in a way that eases the tension in his muscles and soothes his lower back.
He has no idea how long they lay like that, Gerard slowly relaxing against him. He thinks he slips in and out of consciousness, but he’s not sure. Things become a blur of honey and nothing— quiet breaths in a quiet room. Frank’s heartbeat kicks up again, higher and higher, until he can’t take it anymore.
“Gee,” he warns. Or at least he thinks he warns. It’s nothing more than one word, one syllable, but Frank tries to lace it with meaning.
“What?” Gerard answers. He picks his head up, and Frank can see him from his peripherals. He’s studying him, checking him over for any signs of distress.
Frank can’t find his words. They’re stuck in his throat as his mind starts to fog. He thinks—
“What are you doing?”
The words take a second to catch up with him, and then he realizes. He’s been rolling his hips back, grinding against Gerard where he’s soft in his pajama pants.
“Nothing,” Frank says. “Nothing.”
“That doesn’t feel like nothing.”
It’s not. He can feel the way Gerard is hardening against him as he pushes back. It’s intoxicating.
He’s already naked under the blanket. It’d be so easy for Gerard to pull his cock out and just slip inside of him. He can feel it when he presses back, hard through the material of his pajama pants. There aren’t even any zippers involved. He just has to shimmy the waistband down. It’d be so easy.
“Stop.” It’s a whisper, but it sounds impossibly loud in Frank’s ear. A short breath, a staccato syllable.
“Please,” comes out before he can stop himself, hips circling back gently. He’s not trying to, really, he’s not, but he can’t fucking help it. Gerard is right there, hard, and perfect against him. “Fuck me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” Gerard says. His voice is strained. He grabs Frank’s hips, holding him still.
“Yes, I do. I promise. You can fuck me. You can make me feel better. You’re the only one who can make me feel better.”
He’s never felt like this before. It’s never been so bad.
“Frank.” Gerard’s trying to make his voice sound stern, but it comes out choked. It makes Frank feel bad for even asking, for losing control of himself.
“I’m sorry— I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t— get out. You need to get out of here.”
He’s not making sense. He knows he’s not. He’s so back and forth in his own mind that he’s confusing himself. He wants this so fucking bad. He needs this. But they can’t do this. He’s holding onto the last bit of self-preservation he has.
He can’t do this to Gerard. Not with the fever settling in the room.
“No,” he hiccups. “No, we can’t. We can’t. You need to go.”
“Frankie,” Gerard whines. His hands are tight on his hips, and his nose is pressed to the space right below his ear. Frank can hear him take a deep inhale. “I should go. I need to go.”
“You need to go,” Frank says. He punctuates his words by rolling his hips back again, as if he’s chasing the friction one last time. As if he can’t bear saying goodbye to it. Gerard meets his motion. And then rolls his hips again, pressing his cock hard against Frank's ass. “Please.”
“Okay,” Gerard says. “Okay.” And then he rolls his hips again, pulling Frank back against him. Frank doesn’t know what he’s asking for, anymore. He thought he was asking Gerard to leave, but neither of them moves.
“What if you fucked me, just a little bit. Just a little, just the tip. Yeah, that could work. Your cock feels so big, the tip would be enough. Just put it in me a little bit, and it’ll be enough. The burn— it’ll stop the burn.”
“Frank,” Gerard starts, but Frank doesn’t let him finish.
“It’s not fucking me. Not for real. You can’t knot me with just the tip. I won’t get pregnant. You won’t knot me.”
He’s repeating himself, talking in absolute nonsense, but he’s just so desperate. He needs something from Gerard. Anything. Just anything to stop the way his insides are burning themselves up.
“I don’t know,” Gerard says. He’s still rolling his hips against Frank, long and slow motions that drag these quiet grunts out of him. It makes Frank want to know what he’d sound like if he wasn’t holding back.
“Please,” Frank repeats. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t ask for more. It’s all I need.”
Gerard whines behind him. He doesn’t stop moving. If anything, he’s grinding harder against him. There will be finger-shaped bruises on his hips tomorrow, but he doesn’t care.
“Okay.”
It’s nothing but a whisper, tight and controlled through gritted teeth. “But that’s it. Just the tip, until you cum, and then I’m going back to the bunks.”
Frank melts entirely, body going limp. He produces another wave of slick in anticipation, not that it’s necessary. He's been ready for Gerard since this whole thing started. He won’t even need any prep. Gerard could slide his whole cock in on one thrust alone, and Frank wouldn’t struggle at all.
Gerard takes the lead, somehow knowing Frank is too boneless and heat-stupid to do anything about anything. He’s slow where he slips the blanket off, revealing the last shock of pale skin and Frank’s hard cock, already leaking onto the sheets.
He feels Gerard move away from him and whines from the lack of contact. He can’t help the pathetic, animalistic noises that come out of him. Desperate, begging for him to come back even though he promised he would. He agreed to fuck him.
Just a little bit.
Gerard wiggles his pants down and pauses, the last bit of uncertainty clinging on by a thread. “Are you sure about this?”
“Do it, please,” Frank begs. He reaches back and claws his fingers into the meat of Gerard’s hips, pulling him forward. Gerard lets himself be led, his chest pressing against Frank’s back, their hips lining up.
The tip of his cock presses against him, nudging slightly. They both moan at the contact of flesh to flesh. It’s searingly hot, hard, and there. Frank has never needed anything so badly.
And then, he’s sinking in. Just a little bit. Just enough for the head to pop through the tight ring of muscle. Frank mewls, pleasure rippling down his spine.
“You’re so wet, baby,” Gerard groans. He stays still for a second, relishing in the way his cockhead is being squeezed by Frank, then pulls entirely out. There’s so little to work with, only about an inch of Gerard’s cock penetrating him.
“Thank you,” Frank says. He’s not sure why he’s saying it. He feels like he should, though. Feels like he needs to thank his alpha for giving him his cock.
“Is this helping?” Gerard asks. Frank nods, letting his head fall back against Gerard’s shoulder. “Good, baby.”
He sets a pace, hips jerking forward just slightly. Frank closes his eyes, lets himself feel it. It’s not enough, never will be enough, but he tries to surrender himself to it. Gerard is already doing him a favor. He’s already stepping out of his comfort zone just to give Frank a little relief.
He could at least be grateful for it instead of being selfish.
“Feels so good,” Frank says. Whimpers, more like. His voice is high-pitched and thin. Gerard’s cock is sinking into him over and over, opening him up just slightly. His hips are working on their own, arching back and trying to steal more. Trying to-
“Frank,” Gerard warns, but it doesn’t help. His hips kick forward at the same time Frank’s kick back. He sinks in just further and they both moan again.
“I’m sorry,” Frank begs. “Your cock just feels so good.”
He feels Gerard press his forehead to the back of his neck. His fingers dig into the skin harder.
And then he growls.
“I could fuck you. I could fuck you real good, fuck the heat right out of you, fill you up with my cum. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want my fucking knot. It’d make this all stop. This isn’t enough to make you feel better. I can make you feel better if you let me.”
“Gee,” Frank chokes. Gerard presses the head of his cock back in— slowly, agonizingly— and he’s right. Frank is losing what’s left of his sanity, the little bit he desperately tried to cling onto. “I’m not on birth control.”
He’s not, because he’s fucking stupid. He’s never had anyone fuck him through his heat before, so he never thought it’d be important. But now it is, because God, he wants everything Gerard is saying to him. He wants it more than he wants air.
“It never takes the first time,” Gee growls. “We don’t have to worry. Besides, there’s pills you can take, yeah? We’ll be in the next city by morning. There’s nothing to worry about.”
He presses in deeper, just slightly. Frank can feel the stretch, can feel where the head of Gerard’s cock is tapering out into the shaft. It feels so good. It feels so good.
“Gee.”
“That’s it, baby.” Gerard presses a kiss to the juncture of his shoulder, right below his scent gland. Then, scrapes his teeth on the sensitive flesh. The feel of it sends ripples of pleasure down his spine, and he keens backward, arching in a way that pushes Gerard deeper. “You want it. You fucking need it.”
“I need it,” Frank repeats. “I want it.”
Gerard presses in another inch, stopping to pull out slowly. “You want my cock.”
“I want your cock.” He repeats. He can feel the drag of it, and can feel every movement he makes. He’s stupid with the feeling of it, with the way his stomach tightens. He tightens and presses back to meet Gerard’s next thrust.
“You want my cock,” Gerard repeats. His voice is deeper, harsher than it just was. As if he’s holding onto nothing in a desperate attempt to restrain himself.
Deeper. He’s going deeper. God, he’s so fucking big. If Frank weren’t in heat, he’d feel like he was being split in half. The press is endless, relentless, and it’s so fucking good. He’s so full. “I need your fucking cock.”
“That’s right, baby,” Gerard says as he bottoms out. “I’m gonna give it to you.”
He doesn’t pause, doesn’t give Frank any time to adjust. He simply hooks his arm around Frank’s leg to open him up further. Frank leans back, giving complete and total control over to Gerard as he sets a steady pace. He angles his hips to make it easier for him, making it easier to pull all the way out before slamming back in.
He’s already a panting, whining mess. Fuck, this is exactly what he needed. Whatever pain he felt before has completely melted away, leaving nothing but a wash of pleasure in its wake.
Why did they bother waiting this long? Why did either of them fight this?
He swears he can feel Gerard carving out a place inside of him, burying himself deep, over and over again, so it’s like Frank won’t ever forget the feeling of him.
His orgasm is barreling toward him, the edge of which he feels like he’s been kept at all night. Despite how many times he jerked off or tried to finger himself, it was never really enough. Hours and hours of torture and pain and teasing bits of relief, all building up to this.
Gerard has to feel it, with the way Frank is tightening around him. He uses whatever leverage he can to change their position, moving Frank's leg and pushing him onto his back so he can lean over him. The angle changes, and suddenly Gerard’s not only huge inside of him but also hitting his prostate dead on.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Gerard says. Frank marvels at the way he can form complete sentences, let alone thoughts. “All spread out on my cock, omega hole taking my cock so nicely.”
“ Alpha.” The word comes out in a long whine, completely unrestrained and beyond Frank’s control. He’s cock drunk, completely fucked out, and slurring a string of please and yes and Gee. His name is a mantra in his head— a prayer. The only thing in his head is Gerard. “I need to cum.”
He’s surprised at the sound of his own voice. It sounds so unlike him. So needy and desperate, begging worse than he had been all night. The sound of it drips off his tongue, and the effect it has on Gerard is clear, because he can feel the start of his knot forming on each thrust in.
He’s suddenly delirious. “Fuck, Gerard, please. Please, I need it so bad. I need you.”
“What, baby?” He’s got this smirk on his face, sweat running in thin lines down the side of his face. He’s the picture-perfect image of control. “You want my knot?”
“I need it.”
“Frankie.” He can hear the tremble in his voice. “Cum for me, baby.”
Frank feels his body seize, legs drawing tight around Gerard’s waist and vision whiting out. The only thing he can see is how Gerard curls over him, eyes shut tight as he fucks Frank through it. “You’re so good, baby. So good for me. Such a good omega, taking my cock so fucking well. Squeezing my knot. I’m gonna fucking knot you, baby. I’m gonna fucking breed you. You’re gonna look so pretty, all full of my pups.”
“Gee.” Frank gets fucked through the aftershocks of it, pathetic beads of cum still spurting from his cock as if he’s got anything else left to give. It feels endless, and maybe it would be if he couldn’t feel Gerard’s knot stretching him further, nudging into his hole bit by bit. “Alpha, please.”
Gerard fucks him deep until he can’t move anymore, locked in place once his knot swells to full size. He keeps trying, though, grinding his cock deep inside Frank, right against his prostate. Frank feels the overwhelming stretch of it, feels like he’s being split in half with the natural girth of Gerard’s cock, amplified so thick.
And then he feels it. Gerard’s hips stuttering flush against him, cum filling him up pulse by pulse by pulse. It’s so much, Frank thinks his stomach must be distended with it.
There’s no way he’s not fucking pregnant. Not with the amount of seed being ground into him. Not with the way Gerard is locked in tight, preventing even a drop of it from sliding out. Frank feels another ripple of pleasure run down his spine. Feels himself sink into the feeling of it, the haze of being fucked into the mattress until his alpha knotted him. Until he bred him so fucking good.
They stay like that after Gerard collapses on top of him. Partly because they’re tied together, and partly because he doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay wrapped up in Gerard's arms, his body, his scent. He lets it wash over him in warm waves until he feels his consciousness darken.
When he wakes up, he’s empty. Empty and alone. His skin feels hot, but not nearly the way it did before. It’s more pinkish than red, more pleasant than burning. He still aches, though. Just different this time. It’s not over, not by a long shot, but it’s like the heat in his chest was replaced with a feeling of nothing.
Until he realizes that he’s all fucked up not only because Gerard is gone, but because he made Gerard fuck him through his heat.
Despair sinks into him, climbing through his ribs and snaring his heart.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with him? Why didn’t he send Gerard away the second he walked through that door? They were doomed from the fucking start. Frank and his fucking heat, his stupid fucking pheromones. Of course, he couldn’t resist. They didn’t even stand a chance. Especially not with how Frank feels. Not with how he’s head over heels for him.
It shouldn’t have happened like this. It shouldn’t have happened at all. If only he wasn’t such a stupid fucking slut and lost his medication, it wouldn’t have happened at all.
But it did. And now Gerard is gone, probably off working out a plan with Brian to get him off the bus and on the next plane back to New Jersey. Probably hoping he never sees Frank again after what he put him through.
Frank doesn’t notice the way he curls in on himself, a hollow sob stuck in his chest as he grinds the heel of his palms into his eyes. He can’t stop the tears. He’s too emotional, too hormonal. His heat will only stay at bay for a little while, and the thought of falling right back into the thick of it is making him want to disappear.
Once was bad enough. They’ll have to chain Gerard up or pull over to the nearest pit stop and get him off the bus.
It’s over.
It’s so fucking over.
“Hey, you’re awake— oh, shit, what’s wrong?” Gerard slips through the door and scrambles onto the bed. The glass of water he’s holding spills a little bit, wetting the already disgusting bedsheets. He’s quick to put it on the bedside table before rolling Frank over and placing his hands on Frank’s shoulders, his chest, his face. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have. It was fucked up and unfair.”
“What?” Frank gasps. He’s shaking, both leaning into Gerard’s touch and pulling himself back. They’re too close. It’s too dangerous. He’s finally in his right mind, but he knows it won’t last forever. He’s got to get Gerard out of here.
“I said I’m sorry. I fucked up so bad. You weren’t thinking straight, and I took advantage of you. I didn’t mean to, I swear, but if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.”
“You?” Frank tries not to sob, but he does anyway. “Me! I’m the one who lured you in here and begged you to fuck me when you said no. I’m the one who trapped you in here. You didn’t want to. You said it — you said it yourself.
“Frankie.” Gerard’s got both hands on his face now, thumbs swiping away the steam of tears running down. “I never said I didn’t want to, but you’re in heat. We both know omegas say shit they don’t mean when they’re like this. You asked me to go multiple times, but I didn’t. I stayed and then I fucked you and then I knotted you.”
“I wanted you to. It was me. I wanted you to.” Frank can hardly talk. He’s nothing more than a babbling mess, devolving into nonsense as he repeats himself. Gerard only gathers him up against his chest, wrapping him up in his arms. His scent is grounding in a way it shouldn’t be, but is, anyway.
“I love you,” Gerard whispers. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
They stay like that for a while. Long enough that Frank feels himself start to slip, again. Feels the pull of sleep tugging on him. He knows that the next time he wakes up, Gerard shouldn’t be here. Next time, his body will be back in full swing, desperate and thrumming and begging.
He startles at the feeling of Gerard pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. It’s gentle, probably the gentlest thing they’ve done all night. It makes him ache. And then he says, “I’m in love with you, Frank. I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to mess up what we have, what the band has. But you deserve to know. Especially after this.”
Frank’s brain doesn’t process the words the way his body does. His entire world shifts from panging emptiness to sweet. It curls around him like the first spring air after a harsh winter. It floods him, easing the twinge in his bones towards something nice. Something soothing.
Gerard feels it because Gerard has felt everything so far. He holds onto Frank tighter. Holds onto him as if he’s going to shatter. “I’ll go if you want.”
He’s giving Frank an out while there’s still time. Giving him a choice to say no, some autonomy in an otherwise choiceless time.
Frank doesn’t want an out, though. He wants Gerard.
They can talk about it later. Can work out the details and spill their guts all over the bus floor. They’ll work it out with Brian and take Frank to the nearest doctor. Fuck the cost. Fuck it all.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing fucking matters except for the way Gerard’s scent blankets him.
“Stay,” he says. “I want you to stay.”