Author's Note; This is a frerard.. And it is rated what it is rated for a reason. Don't like homosexual pairings or my writing? Please write a letter, fold it up, and shove it up your ass. Also, this is just an intro. Actual chapters will be much longer.
Frank Iero wasn't sure what woke him up first; the sound of his name being lulled, or the feeling of cold fingers loosely holding him in place by his middle. He didn't say anything, and neither did the boy on top of him. They both stood still, one straddling the other's hips as the other was one touch away from screaming profanities, because Frank was sure this was all Erik's doing. For shits and giggles, because the jocks found the most sickest shit funny. In their eyes; everything was funny. Life was one big joke.
Frank dreamt about their eyes. He had always had an eye fetish, but when he met Erik it intensified by something times two. Erik was a jock, and his eyes were disgustingly beautiful. They were the most repulsive color of blue, captivated the most ugly of scenes, and it told the stories no one dared to whisper at the campfire. And yet everyone wanted those eyes on them. Everyone wanted to be seen by Erik Stone's blue eyes. Everyone but Frank.
Frank stiffened as two hands tangled themselves in his hair, two elbows coming to rest on the mattress on either side of him. He could feel the breath of someone on his neck, only the breath was cold, not hot. Like the man had just finished eating a snow cone. Cold like his hands, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer.
It was only a week into summer camp, and Frank was already getting molested in his sleep. He should've just turned in that assignment in biology.
"Kiss me, Iero."
Frank parted his lips to say something, but was stopped by the hard collision of clumsy lips. That was when the raw scent of liquor hit him in the face, engulfing him in a familiar death grip. Frank shoved the man. He moved a breath away, only to try and kiss him again, and for Frank to push him away. And then again, and again, like a broken record repeating the chorus.
"Get-"
"Wait," A voice caught somewhere between husky and scratchy choked out, "Just.." And then attempted to kiss him again.
"Get off!" Frank hissed, this time pushing him away somewhat successfully.
The man sat up straight, his arms hanging limp by his sides. "I figured.." He whispered, and as he slowly got off the bed-like it hurt to move-he had the back of his hand covering half his face. Frank swore it was Erik's broad, shirtless figure he saw shuffling away. Frank watched silently as the boy shut his dorm door as quietly as he had came in, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of the man's favorite past time.