Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6679177.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      My_Chemical_Romance, Bandom
  Relationship:
      Frank_Iero/Mikey_Way
  Character:
      Frank_Iero, Mikey_Way
  Additional Tags:
      PWP, handjob, blowjob, (shitty_one_but_its_there), bully!frank, Silence
      Kink, sorta_-_Freeform, idk_mikey_covers_his_mouth, Alternate_Universe_-
      High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_I'm_Not_Okay_Video, Homophobic_Slurs, i
      forgot_to_tag_that_b4
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-28 Words: 3006
****** hell or glory (i dont want anything in between) ******
by frankieroed
Summary
     “You know,” Frank started, panting slightly “I’m not a fag.”
Notes
     god i havent written porn in so long sorry if its bad. let me know if
     there are any huge errors, im looking for a new beta right now but at
     the moment it's just me. im not sure what inspired this other than
     the idea of angry closeted frank tbh. i also put it as PWP but im not
     sure that it really counts lmao
     title from fall out boy's she's my winona
See the end of the work for more notes
If there was anything Mikey Way hated more than Frank Iero, it was waiting.
Waiting for Frank Iero? He would rather stick a hot needle into his eye.
Which is why as he sat behind the sheds at the back of the school, wasting
hispersonal time after school, waiting for Frank fucking Iero, he was less then
pleased. He was actually fairly angry, kicking a stone next to his foot into
the corrugated iron wall and fiddling with his sidekick.
Pete had already received six texts from Mikey in the span of him waiting for
Frank, three of them were Billy Corgan lyrics (not Smashing Pumpkins though,
Pete was still sensitive) and the remaining three were cryptic texts about
dumb, dumb boys and their dumb, dumb hair and their dumb, dumb tardiness. Pete
sent two texts back.
no 1 says tardiness ne more mikeyway
gud luck w/ ur wooin mission
Mikey had huffed and tucked his phone back into his blazer without responding
because this was nota wooing mission. This was a ‘what the fuck is your
problem’ mission. A ‘fuck off my back’ mission. A ‘why are you such a fucking
bully and how are you that cute when you do it’ mission. A ‘either leave me and
my friends alone or jerk me off’ mission. Okay. So, maybe it was a bit of a
wooing mission. A backwashed, upside down wooing mission.
To be fair, Frank had to have known something was going to go down. He did
agree to meet Mikey after school, it wasn’t like Mikey was going to spring a
surprise attack on him because Mikey weighed about three pounds soaking wet and
had asthma and Frank, despite his outward appearance, was a strong mother
fucker when he wanted to be.
He also had to know that Mikey wasn’t inviting him behind the sheds to play
fucking marbles. When people go behind the shed, they either fight until
someone ends up in the emergency room or fuck until someone ends up in the
emergency room. Mikey, in his years of lurking outside clubs and dealing with
his brother after some more rowdy parties, had learnt that there was a fine
line between the two.
The thing is, Frank Iero wasn’t unattractive. He was, actually, incredibly
attractive. It really wasn’t fair. Mikey liked pretty girls and pretty guys and
Frank Iero really fit in both of those categories. Which was why, whenever he
cornered Mikey in the hallways, shoving him against a locker or spitting at him
in the courtyard, he wouldn’t really retaliate. Or even react. His face would
stay buried in his sidekick and his feet would stay planted. This seemed to
really tick Frank off, make him go harder, louder. Mikey secretly hoped it did.
And there was no way on God’s earth that Frank Iero was straight. No way. Mikey
had a gaydar. Gerard really liked hearing about what he called Mikey’s ‘gift’.
He would call up from SVA and ask him if he’d honed any homos or discovered any
dick lovers. Mikey would hang up.
The point was that he could telland Frank fucking Iero was about as straight as
a circle. Or maybe the dicks he drew everywhere. Which, what the fuck¸that’s so
gay.
So, Mikey was spending his afternoon waiting around for Frank straight as a
circle, bully everyone, give Mikey inappropriate boners Iero so they could
discuss Frank’s possible gayness and Mikey’s possible want of wanting that dick
in his mouth and that really, really wasn’t cutting it for him. After about
twenty minutes with no sign of the boy, Mikey huffed and started walking back
to the bus stop, head bowed.
Which, of course, is when Frank Iero decided to show up and walk directly into
Mikey. Well, to be more specific, Mikey’s shoulder. He was a short dude.
“The fuck, Way. Watch where you’re fucking going.” He pushed past Mikey, no eye
contact made, and leaned against the shed, dropping his bag at his feet. He
seemed in a rush. His hand rustled in his blazer for a second before he pulled
out a crushed pack of cigarettes and lit one, holding it loosely between his
lips. Smoking behind the sheds. Mikey almost laughed at the cliché.
“Glad you finally decided to show. I was about to leave, actually. Thought
you’d bitched out.”
Eye contact. Mikey’s heart squeezed, although the angry look in Frank’s eyes
were signaling that his heart was not on the same page. Perhaps a different
book.
Frank shrugged, looking back down, as if to say ‘I’m here now. Take it or leave
it.’
Mikey could play that game.
“Frank, I think we need to talk.”
“Oh no, no, no, I don’t know what you’re thinking but I’m not gonna sit down
and have a fucking counselling session with you, faggot. We’re here for one
reason.” Mikey didn’t flinch.
“I wasn’t asking you to. What I was asking you is what problem you have with me
and my friends.” He kept his voice even, stance still and eyes locked.
Predator.
“Because you’re all fucking fags. Shouldn’t you be out blowing them anyway,
where’s the rest of your gang, huh? No use showing up to a fight without a
fucking audience.” Frank spat back, voice cracking slightly and hands shaking,
eyes directed at Mikey’s shoes. Prey.
“Who said we were fighting, Frank?”
More eye contact. Mikey reveled in that shit.
“What the fuck, Way? You actually thought I would waste my time coming here to
sit and have a pansy chat. What, did you bring knitting? Mugs of tea and
cookies? Are we changing our names to Sharon and Debbie?”
Mikey snorted.
“I think you’d suit Margaret, actually.”
“Fucking weird.” Frank muttered, kicking the dirt under his heel, but that was
definitely a smile. A tiny, tiny smile. But a smile nonetheless.
Mikey wasn’t there for smiles.
“Frank. Tell me what your problem is and I’ll fuck off.”
“There isn’t a problem, weirdo.”
“Don’t make me do this the hard way.” Mikey warned, watching the way Frank
gnawed his lip, fascinated.
“You can’t try and tell me this is a fucking intervention. I’m fighting or I’m
leaving.” Frank dragged a hand through his hair and rolled up the sleeves of
his blazer. He breathed in a lungful of smoke before letting it out of the side
of his mouth.
“Again, I never said we were fighting. I don’t want to talk either, I’m not
your therapist. ”
More fucking eye contact.
“What’s that supposed to fucking mean, Way?”
Caught.
At this point, Mikey decided it could go two ways. Frank could freak, swing,
run and Mikey would have an impressively dark bruise with a darker reputation
suddenly hung over his head. Or he could find himself in a real life wet dream
with Frank fucking Iero. He took the risk.
Stepping toward Frank, he shucked his blazer and rolled his sleeves. Frank
looked apprehensive but his face hadn’t changed that much since he showed up.
He took another few steps until he was close, too close but not close enough.
He reached the small distance towards Frank (who had frozen, eyes trained to
Mikey’s and looking about ready to fuck someone up if he had to) and took the
quickly dying cigarette from between frank’s pliant fingers. Without breaking
eye contact, Mikey raised the stick to his lips and took a final drag before
dropping it to his foot and crushing it. Mikey blew out the smoke to the left
of Frank’s face and thought, if it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen now. Fuck
it,before leaning in and kissing Frank.
There was no face punching or groin kicking. There was however a boy attached
to his face and not moving at all what the hell, rude.
He pulled back.
Held eye contact.
A beat passed.
Then it all happened.
Frank gripped Mikey’s hair (despite its constant state of unwash) and pulled
him in, lips smacking at the contact. Mikey was so there immediately, grabbing
Frank’s hips, digging his palms into the hollows and his fingertips into the
flesh hard enough to leave bruising. Fuckhe hoped there was bruising.
The actual kissing was something Mikey couldn’t quite fathom. Mikey had been
kissed plenty, he was used to the concept, but Frank kissed different. Like
every movement, every muscle, everything had 110% effort and energy put into
it. Every ending he had seemed electrocuted and every pulse, push, pull, tug
was completely alive.
Mikey was blown away at how similar it was to what he had envisioned.
Frank’s hands dropped from where the rested against Mikey’s scalp to the back
of his neck and Mikey inhaled fast because Frank was pulling on those fine
hairs at the nape and he was digging that, a lot.
Mikey’s hands slid from Frank’s hips up to his chest and he pushed, Frank
hitting the wall behind him with a bang and glazed eyes focusing and unfocusing
on Mikey’s face.
Mikey would make a snide comment something to do with the fact the Frank’s
slacks were tenting and his lips were slightly twitching but his slacks were
tenting and lips were slightly twitching, fuck.
“You know,” Frank started, panting slightly “I’m not a fag.”
Mikey snorted. Then crowded closer. Frank’s labored breaths hitched.
“We both know that’s not true, Frankie,” Mikey said quietly, resting his hands
on Frank’s waist again lightly. He had room to run. They both knew that.
“Prove it, Way.” Frank’s voice was just over a whisper as he raised his head.
The angry look in his eyes was replaced with one of want, needand his hands
were shaking. Mikey kissed him again, just to take away that smug little glint
in his eye saying ’yes, I got what I wanted.’
Mikey thought of himself as pretty good with dicks. Mainly his own, but he
dabbled. He considered himself a bit of a dick pundit.  So dicks didn’t freak
him. Most of the time.
Well, okay. Most of the experience he did have with other dicks was in dark
bathroom stalls or alleys, where both members were hauled out, there was some
form of collective jerking off and then there was orgasms. It was fine, good
even. He just didn’t have that experience with a dick up close and personal.
Therefore it was totally acceptable that he gasped, when his hand (which had
crept from under Frank’s blazer, to his belt and directly into his slacks)
grabbed Frank’s dick. It was a decent length, nearly fully hard (despite the
lack of actual action) and Mikey suddenly was really, really, happy their
encounter hadn’t gone sour. He was slightly red at the volume of the noise he
made, though.
It was okay though, as Frank drowned out his noise with a moan that, okay, if
they were trying to alert whoever was left on campus as to what was going down,
they probably would succeed.
Mikey wasn’t having it.
His hand was over Frank’s mouth before his brain even processed a fully formed
thought and the noise Frank let out was unbelievable. Mikey usually had a
decent stamina but Frank was quickly breaking down his walls because,
seriously, of course the kid had a thing for being shut up. He was the loudest
fucker in school what else would turn him on.
It was so surreal to Mikey, he had the hottest boy he’d ever seen’s dick in his
hand, he wasn’t even doing anything with it just fucking gripping it like a
tool, silencing him with a sweaty palm and watching him fall apart.
Gee was usually the metaphor brother but Mikey thought that was pretty damn
beautiful.
“You look so fucking good like this, Frank, you have no idea. So fucking hot.”
Mikey breathed as he slowly started jacking Frank’s dick. He didn’t have too
much practice in this area when he was fully sober but he figured out pretty
quickly it was just like jerking off, but backwards.
Frank didn’t seem to complain. His hands had reached Mikey’s hair again and he
was just clinging, like he was going to collapse at any second.
His dick was hot and hard and Mikey never wanted to let go, just wanted to keep
his hand stuck down Frank’s loose (thank God for white boy pant sagging) slacks
forever.
There was drop of precum beading at the head that he watched carefully form,
almost dribbling down Frank’s cock, before swiping his thumb over the crown and
smearing it down the length. Frank’s hips jerked upwards, effectively fucking
Mikey’s hand as he let out a whine that was embarrassing for even Mikey to
hear.
Mikey, who had leaned down closer, nearly at eye level with Frank, began
pressing kisses to Frank’s neck. They started gentle, light little pecks that
turned into obnoxious, heavy, bruise making kisses and Mikey had a hot flash at
the image of Frank trying to hide hickeys the next day. He dropped his head to
Frank’s shoulder and groaned because fuck.
Frank was breathing noisily above him (Mikey could feel the rushes of air over
his knuckles), canting his hips into Mikey’s loose grip and making these
fucking whimpers from the back of his throat like he had never, ever, been in a
better situation. To be fair, Mikey couldn’t think of a moment he’d felt that
good in a long time.
Frank’s tongue was lapping at Mikey’s palm and any other time it would have
been disgusting but Mikey just found his dick twitching, straining against the
cotton of his boxers and he honestly felt like if he tried hard enough, he
could get off without a hand even reaching his dick. It wouldn’t even be
embarrassing, he was too far gone for shame.
He did this thingwhere he twisted his wrist and dropped back down, sliding his
thumb upwards to press directly on the most sensitive part of the underside and
Frank let out this strangled groan before his eyes opened slightly, locking on
Mikey’s, pleading.
Feeling like he’d earned it, Mikey removed his hand and replaced it immediately
with his mouth. The sudden change from his own dry lips where he’d been
breathing through an open mouth to the warm, wetness of Frank’s mouth was
welcomed.
Mikey tightened his grip and felt the silky head slip between the circle he’d
made with his fingers, letting his mouth hang slack whilst Frank sucked and bit
his bottom lip. Frank panted in between nips of his teeth and let out these
loud fucking whines, turning into yelps as his dick pulsed. He pulled back,
sucking in a sharp breath and whining loud enough Mikey swore he heard a window
break.
He pressed their foreheads together, about ready for Frank to cum all over him
and his hand. Frank’s eyes shot open and fucked his hips up one more time.
“Mikey,” He breathed before shooting all over Mikey’s shirt and hand, groaning.
It was a lot of cum, Mikey thought he’d have to find a bucket or something.
 It belatedly occurred to Mikey that, shit, that was the first time Frank had
ever called him by his first name. First time for everything, he supposed.
Frank slumped immediately, breath coming in longer pulses as he clung to the
back of Mikey’s head. Curious, Mikey lifted the hand that was holding Frank’s
spent dick and licked it a couple times. Could be worse, he supposed.
“You’re trying to kill me,” Frank stated, like he had come to that conclusion
as he watched the other boy eat his cum. Mikey shrugged. Frank snuffed before
pushing himself off the wall and onto Mikey, shoving his tongue back down his
throat and grabbing at Mikey’s belt.
“Been, fuckin, thinking about this. So fucking much.” Frank mumbled, seemingly
to himself as he pushed Mikey until he was sitting on the ground, kneeling
between his legs. He shoved his hand inside Mikey’s boxers the moment his fly
gave way and groped for his dick, groaning when he wrapped his fingers around
the length, like he was about to get the fucking handjob. He slowly started
jacking Mikey, pulling away from Mikey’s mouth to marvel at his own hand with
wide eyes as if trying to figure out his next move at all times.
“’s weird. All backwards.” Mikey didn’t tell him he was thinking the same thing
because he was supposed to know this shit. He was supposed to have enough
experience for both of him and he had a weird feeling that if he didn’t, this
would all stop.
To be fair, it wasn’t the worst handjob he’d ever had. Frank jerked him off
like he kissed, eager and inexperienced. Mikey still grunted, kicked his hips
and huffed encouragingly.
“I just wanna, can I just, fuck, hold on. I wanna try something.” Was all Frank
got out before he was stooping lower and fucking sucking Mikey’s dick.Well,
more licking and drooling on it but still. Mouth. Dick. Even better, Frank’s
mouth, Mikey’s dick. That day couldn’t have gone better.
“Oh, fuck, Frank. So good. So good for me.” Mikey praised, running a hand
through the boys hair and letting his head roll backwards.
His orgasm hit him faster than he had been expecting, stuttering out a warning
to Frank. He managed to pull back and wrap his hand back around Mikey as he
came in long, hot strips. All over Frank’s face. If Mikey wasn’t mid-orgasm, he
might have cum again just looking at Frank’s slack jaw and pretty painted
eyelashes.
He eventually re-opened his eyes and stared at Mikey.
Frank lasted around six seconds before hastily getting to his feet, scrubbing
his face with his blazer sleeve and grabbing one strap of his bag, hauling it
on the wrong shoulder.
“This never fucking happened, faggot.” Were his last words before he raced
away. Mikey smiled to himself, tucking his dick away and getting himself
together.
Predator. Prey.
End Notes
     comment/kudos/criticism are appreciated as always
     follow me at deadricky.tumblr.com and talk to me abt pete wentz
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