Mikey was drunk again. Gerard found the young man sprawled on the couch, practically passed out, having come home from one of his many parties.
Gerard had envied Mikey for that: being so sociable and getting with more girls than he. And yet, he also admired him all the more. Despite Mikey's quiet and shy persona, once he got engaged in a conversation, it was easy to see why people were so drawn to him. And Gerard could not blame them.
Gerard steps over to the couch, watching his brother's sleeping face, his pink parted lips. He has always admired Mikey's small frame, his sharp cheekbones.
He has to be so wasted, he can't wake up, Gerard decides. Leaning down, he presses a quick kiss against Mikey's mouth, then looks at his face for a flinch, any sign that he had felt it. When the moment passed and Mikey still did not budge, Gerard placed his hand on the top of the couch, his knee by Mikey's hip.
He kissed along Mikey's sharp jawline, palming his stomach, which was slowly heaving with each breath. He slipped a hand underneath the shirt to feel his skin. A thumb sensed the elastic waistband of Mikey's underwear. Looking down, Gerard could see the hip bones protruding from the exposed waist. He proceeded to trace his fingertips along them, his desire increasing.
Straddling the young man now, Gerard pushes the shirt up even further. Leaning down, his own breath getting hot and heavy, Gerard brushes his lips against the smooth skin of the navel, his hands roaming the chest.
Mikey then stirs, his eyelids fluttering open. He feels a heavy weight upon himself, his torso exposed to the room's temperature, a mouth brushing, licking and drooling on his stomach. He remembers having a lot to drink, but his previously befuddled state had now worn down significantly, thanks to the hour-long sleep. He wonders who could be on top of him, considering that he does not recall bringing anyone home.
"Wha–?" Mikey mutters. Attempting to lift his head, he then sees his brother. "G?" His voice raises in shock and fear, a chill surging through. "What are you doing?!"
At this point, Gerard is now beyond caring if Mikey is awake. He wants–hopes, needs–Mikey to be okay with this; to get into it, to want him right back. Gerard's sloppy kissing only gets more aggressive, proceeding to move upward, bare his teeth and bite at Mikey's nipple.
Mikey gasps and jumps, tries to find the strength in his arms to fight back. But Gerard has grabbed ahold of both of his wrists, pinning him against the cushions as his desire continues to overwhelm him.
"Mikey," Gerard pants as his mouth moves up to the man's neck. "I've been wanting this for so long." He kisses the neck and gyrates against Mikey's squirming body. "I just sit there in the basement with no social life while you're out there, screwing every girl in New Jersey. I think about you with them, how you're able to satisfy them, and I've just now realized, I wish I were in their place!"
Mikey is only half-listening, still struggling against Gerard's strong grip. He turns his head from left to right, as if he will somehow get away from his brother's kissing and biting.
Finally, Mikey utters the words: "Please, stop!"
Upon hearing this, Gerard stills. Lifting his head, his cloud of judgment fades from his eyes, and they widen as he, for the first time, notices how uncomfortable his brother is. Mikey has his eyes shut, as though willing to believe that what is taking place is nothing but a nightmare. He is trembling as well–not out of pleasure, Gerard realizes, but fear.
Exhaling, Gerard asks, "You…want me to stop?"
Mikey nods vigorously, the muscles in his throat tensing. Immediately, Gerard lets go of his wrists, red marks left in their wake, and eases off of him, distancing to the other end of the couch. Mikey manages to sit and curl up, his face contracting as the tears begin. He pulls his shirt down to cover his torso, and lifts the neck up to his eyes.
Mikey thinks about bolting from the room, away from his assaulter. But he stays where he is, part of him wanting to confront Gerard–scream at him–over what just happened, though he cannot form the words right now.
"Mikey," Gerard whispers, his tone attempting to be comforting; gone was the shaky lust it had just several minutes ago. After Mikey brings his shirt back down, he sees Gerard raise a hand forward, causing him to flinch away. He looks at his older brother with big, round eyes, like he does not recognize the person he had grown up with–who was always very protective and supportive of him. Gerard reassures, "No, no. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."
He places his hand on one of Mikey's feet, which no more than jumps at the touch. Lowering his gaze and biting his lip, face growing hot with shame and regret, Gerard manages to say, "God, I don't know what came over me." He shakes his head. "For fuck's sake, our parents raised us to be better than this."
Of course, their parents had taught the boys the importance of consent in relationships; never had they mentioned anything about having incestuous feelings for family members.
Mikey only sobs, which tears Gerard's heart even further. He looks up at the quaking man, and says, his own voice now breaking, "I'm really fucking sorry. I mean it."
He moves his hand from Mikey's foot to his knee. When Mikey notices, Gerard extends his arms forward and beckons with his fingers, gesturing for a hug; he can detect in his older brother's face, his glistening eyes, that he means for this to be an act of comfort.
Before obliging, Mikey takes a deep, steady and shaky breath in case this is a trap. He slowly scoots over and lets Gerard wrap his arms around him.
"I'm sorry," Gerard whispers soothingly, nuzzling his head on Mikey's, rocking him slightly. "I'm so, so sorry. It'll never happen again." Mikey gasps and sobs in return, obviously too overcome with shock and confusion. "Gimme your wrist."
Mikey glances down at his own wrist before doing so. Gerard carefully wraps his fingers around Mikey's forearm, examining the mark he had made. Gently, he massages this part.
He has doubts, but Gerard hopes that this act will offer him forgiveness. If Mikey never does forgive, he will not blame him. Gerard considers giving a kiss to the wrist, along with the top of Mikey's head, and then quickly changes his mind, seeing as this would seem too intimate and scare Mikey all over again.
Without a second thought, Mikey willingly gives Gerard's other wrist to give the same treatment to.
Those plane attacks in New York must've done a bigger number on him than I thought, Mikey theorizes.
It is the sole explanation he can come up with right now. He could tell that Gerard was not under the influence of anything, so, he wonders what exactly possessed the elder man to have done such a thing. Trying to remember what it was Gerard had said during the assault, Mikey only caught snippets about his own sex life.
"And your neck," Gerard states, and Mikey lifts his chin up for the former to examine. With their faces at such a close proximity, Mikey avoids looking directly at his assailant. There are visible bite marks and potential bruises on his skin. Trying to massage it with his fingertips, Gerard mutters, "Should put some ice on it."
Although he has a feeling that, if he gets up and leaves to get ice from their freezer, he will return to find Mikey gone. He wants to stay by his side, for Mikey to not be alone in a traumatic state. Gerard wants to ask, Are you okay? and say, It's okay, yet, is aware of how absurd such statements would be. Instead, he continues to cradle Mikey in his arms, shushing Mikey's cries and voicing his apologies. He strokes his shoulders, back and hair with his palms.
He accepts the fact that the idea of Mikey giving in to his advances is nothing more than a fantasy.