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Living Life The Good Way	By : GothicalWishes Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 1329 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Mikey stared at the yellowing ceiling above his head: the dirty white light shining in through the windows from the streetlamps outside, illuminating darkened patterns, seemingly endless. There was an emptiness that engulfed Mikey through his childhood. Black planes of loneliness where he isolated himself, if only so he could hold on to something he knew. Hold on to anything that felt familiar. That was until Mikey hit nineteen. Then there was that first kiss. That forbidden, passionate, awkward kiss, desperation evident in the way his hands pulled at his brother’s hair.

Mikey’s heart skipped a beat as images flashed across his mind, as emotions washed over his body. All those faces, those strangers he spends his nights with, desperately hanging on to any manner of feeling he could, hoping to extract them from the sweaty nights and weave them into his everyday life, the times when he felt so empty.

Gerard brought it on. Mikey was scribbling down words and verses on a piece of paper, the neat scribbling definitely not his best work, not by a long shot. He had heard the laughing and muffled talking as the trio were coming up the stairs. Almost as if in a movie, Mikey knew what was going on. He knew what would be happening in that little room Gerard occupied. And despite the little voice in his heart telling him he hated it, and he was jealous, he wanted to be like that with Gerard still, there was a stronger voice in his head which seemed to have elected itself captain of Mikey’s body, as his arousal grew and he felt more and more like he was betraying his own obsession with his brother.

Angry at himself for enjoying the thought of his brother heavily panting; sweaty bodies writhing against each other, Mikey sighed and got out of his bed. He was starting to wonder if maybe they’d spent too long at the hotel. He was starting to get agitated; twitchy almost. Mikey moved his t-shirt; it was hot and sticky and felt uncomfortable. He walked over to the windows and opened one, the fresh night air cooling his blushed cheeks. He hated nights like these, when something would set him off and he would brood, like Gerard. Maybe it was in the genes.

After some pacing, thoughts about how genetics made himself and Gerard act similar swirling around his brain, Mikey settled down at the beat-up desk the hotel had so thoughtfully provided for his convenience. At that moment it was covered in a dozen bags of toiletries and make up, a glass of water and one of those jewellery boxes that holds necklaces when you get them from the shop. To himself, Mikey’s reflection was pale and weedy, and despite the comments otherwise, there were very few people who could actually come close to making him believe that they were telling the truth.

Mikey felt his eyes welling up and in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing he opened the jewellery box and took out the contents. A singular razor blade presented on that strange wiry netting that necklaces apparently look so good on. Mikey no longer felt the need to take the blade to his wrists, he was older now, much wiser; but keeping the blade somewhere nice, somewhere with him whenever he moved around, helped him to keep a grip on reality. Stopped him from forgetting the young boy so pissed off at the world and how he became the person that he was now. When times got rough and he needed a little nostalgia to keep him going he would take the blade from its home and run it across his fingers, never actually breaking skin, but keeping himself from shattering.

Presently Mikey had the blade gripped in his left hand. Without realising, the tapered edges managed to sink into the soft palm of his hand. Mikey could feel the blood warming the blade, feel his pulse as the blood seeped from the wound. Still desperately trying not to cry, so many thoughts running through his head; how he had no right to be angry or upset, how he should grow up: if Gerard wanted him, he’d come, how he should maybe get some alone time, Mikey dug his hand into one of the make up bags.

Minutes later a different Mikey stared at him in the mirror. The new Mikey was bordering on hysterical: eyeliner round his eyes, faint red smudges on his cheeks from the blood pooled on his hand. Sometimes Mikey wanted to be that person: the person in the mirror. Where the wound on his left hand became the wound on his right hand, where the world was back to front, where his only cause of existence was to appear every once in a while and mimic some poor bloke on the other side of the glass. Mikey shook his head at the man pretending to be him. I hate you, Mikey shouted silently at him, shutting his eyes in defeat.

When Mikey finally dared to open them again he didn’t know how long he’d been sat in the same position. Barely a minute or two he thought, but time enough for Gerard to appear standing silently behind him: his face expressionless. Mikey’s wet eyes betrayed him at the moment; knowing a moment of weakness had been noticed hurt more than if no one had caught on, and a tear streaked a dark line down his reddened cheek.

“Mikey.” Gerard whispered, a hand moving to his brother’s shoulder. Mikey shook his head. He wasn’t prepared for this. “Mikey,” his brother repeated again, voice slightly stronger, “What’s wrong?” Gerard leant around his younger brother and took his hands, standing him up and turning him so they were face to face. It was at that point he realised there was blood. Not a lot, but enough to make a mess, still warm, not clotting.

Mikey breathed deeply, eyes shutting briefly, before saying a shaky, “Just everything. Just…”

Gerard stood silently, hands still entwined with his brother’s. He wasn’t sure what to do. He knew what he craved, what his heart wanted him to do: take that pretty face and kiss it better. But his head was telling him different, telling him to be tactful. Mikey may have gotten over him, may not want that any more. Gerard just didn’t know, just couldn’t work it out. If he had his own way he’d hold Mikey’s hand as they walked down the street, he’d kiss Mikey’s lips whenever saw a hint of sorrow behind those emotional eyes, he’d… he’d…

Gerard took the razor blade from Mikey’s hand, and interlaced their fingers, staring at him, desperately trying to solve the internal struggle, as Mikey’s eyes continued to stare at the floor. Gerard gave up. Moving slowly he bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes, letting his lips meet Mikey’s. A moment passed and neither of them moved, lips barely touching. Finally Mikey moved away, Gerard noticed his eyes were now shut. Mikey brought his lips back to his brother’s. Lots of little kisses: Mikey trying desperately to remember what the feeling felt like. Why melting into his brother felt so God damn good. It didn’t take long for the memories to come rushing back. As soon as Gerard’s lips parted Mikey’s world exploded, his movements became frantic and rushed, urgently trying to keep Gerard connected to him. Gerard’s heart was beating fast, his breath coming short. As soon as he parted his lips he tasted Mikey: that strange yet so familiar taste. He raised his hands to hold Gerard’s face, knowing that the blood would be on his face now, knowing he must look a state. Tongues battled for dominance, battled to set the pace, Mikey wanting the desperate, fast; ‘I need it now’, pace, Gerard attempting to slow Mikey down.

Minutes passed, the atmosphere in the room heating up quickly, the breathing becoming panting as desperate hands ran over each other, under t-shirts, nails scratching up muscled backs. Mikey broke the kiss to move his lips down Gerard’s neck, stopping once to whisper, “You,” into Gerard’s ear. Hot, wet kisses moved down Gerard’s neck, soft lips so gentle, biting teeth so punishing. Gerard felt hands pulling his t-shirt up, the attack on his neck stopping momentarily, the t-shirt being thrown to the floor. Mikey pushed Gerard, making him walk backwards, never breaking the assault on the part of Gerard’s neck where his neck and shoulder met, the little dip, so sensitive. Gerard realised once he’d stopped walking and opened his eyes that Mikey had taken them to the bathroom.

The white tiles illuminated by a dim glow from the small privacy window high up in the walls. Mikey didn’t turn on the light; he didn’t need light to see how Gerard looked, his mind conjured all the images, each one so perfectly accurate. As Mikey opened his eyes he saw Gerard’s arm reach for the light switch: typical of his brother, not wanting to miss a single moment. He looked into Gerard’s eyes, catching the strange glint in his eye; ignoring it for crashing their mouth’s together once again, allowing his brother’s tongue entrance, his heart skipping beats as Gerard finally took control, allowing Mikey to assume his role. The little part he used to play when they were young. Mikey Way: the younger, innocent brother.

Gerard led them both into the shower, never breaking the kiss. Mikey was forcibly pushed against cold tiles, stripped, and made to watch as Gerard removed each item of clothing slowly and meaningfully. Once they were both naked, Gerard finally allowed them contact from below the chest. Mikey moaned aloud as his erection rubbed against Gerard’s. Gerard turned the shower on, the sudden stream of lukewarm water made them both jump apart. They stood, facing each other, panting, eyes half lidded, waiting for the water to warm up. Soon it was hot and Gerard initiated contact again. He pushed Mikey back against the tiles, now warm and let his tongue run down the slippery chest in front of him. Coming to his knee’s he trailed fingertips along Mikey’s erection. Mikey’s fists balled from the contact, soon to grip hold of Gerard’s hair as the latter’s lips closed around Mikey’s cock. There was passion in heir movements which Mikey was sure he had never felt before. Somewhere inside him he knew the reason why he and Gerard had so many problems. But, no matter how hard he tried, he could not put it into words.

Mikey’s eyes rolled back into his head as he desperately tried to remember to breathe, it seemed like such a pointless task, and he wanted desperately for his body to remember to do it itself so he could focus on the body of Gerard on his knee’s, his fingers tangled in the long, wet, black hair. Gerard had a feeling that they wouldn’t last long and so went slow, moving his hand to run a finger across Mikey’s opening, feeling the shudder run through the man as he slowly pushed a wet finger in, leaving Mikey’s erection to start sucking on the skin in the hollow where his hip and groin met. Mikey was torn between pushing forward into Gerard and pushing back against the sting of the probing digit, knowing that the sting led to so many good feelings. Gerard added another finger, and another, enjoying the little squeaks and moans Mikey emitted, how his hips bucked forward when Gerard hit that oh so sensitive spot inside his brother.

A few more bucking hips later and an almost over the edge Mikey used his grip on Gerard’s hair to yank his brother up into a searing kiss, teeth clashing, tongues fighting. Gerard took Mikey’s wrists from his jaw, noticing that the wound on his left hand had opened again and blood was seeping through, tainting the water that swirled down the plug a faint pink colour. Gerard ran his tongue along the wound, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, not so much unpleasant as different. Mikey’s eyes widened at the strange act, only to return half lidded as water rippled down his face, drops clinging to his eyelashes. Gerard returned to Mikey’s mouth, moving Mikey’s hands behind his neck, letting Mikey lace his fingers together. Gerard smiled against the kisses as he ran fingers down Mikey’s back to lift his legs. Mikey’s breath hitched again as he crossed his ankles behind Gerard’s back, feeling the tip of Gerard’s erection against his opening. Simultaneously the Way brother’s moved, sheathing Gerard in Mikey’s tight heat. Mikey moaned, his breath halted, Gerard moved forehead into Mikey’s chest as the sensation brought him to completion, bringing it back only a few seconds later to stare up at Mikey with lust filled eyes.

Somewhere, Gerard was lost. Inside his body he could feel all the things he held on to, all those pieces of justification he shouted at himself every night, wash away and begin to man nothing. Their meanings, which Gerard thought Gospel, were starting to fade…

Mikey started the movement. Gerard followed suit, his lips placing wet kisses on Mikey’s chest, tongue dragging across the skin. As their movements quickly sped up, Gerard hit that place in Mikey again. That oh so magical spot that caused him to arch his back and let out a lustful moan as spots began to danced in front of his eyes; and his fingers unlaced, nails digging into Gerard’s back. Their movements became erratic, Gerard hitting that spot almost every time, the sensation of their wet, slick bodies sliding against each other, their movements causing sweet, sweet friction on Mikey’s cock soon proved to be too much. With a lustful moan, an arched back and the dragging of nails down Gerard’s back, Mikey came, boring down hard one last time. Gerard stopped breathing when Mikey moaned, eyes slipped shut when nails dragged down his back, and came when Mikey bored down on his cock, a stream of expletives streaming from his mouth, lost in the skin of his brother’s chest.

Both men rested against each other, breathing heavily. Gerard recovered not long after and lifted Mikey from him, leaving him still sandwiched between the tiled wall and himself. Mikey leant forward, eyeliner long gone, and rested his head on Gerard’s shoulder.

“What do we do now?” Gerard whispered.

Silence stretched for a few moments, before Mikey moved back and looked Gerard straight in the eyes. “Let me wash your hair.”

*~*~*

Gerard and Mikey were out of the shower, both clean and with coconut smelling, clean, shiny hair. Gerard lay on his back on the hotel bed; Mikey was cuddled up to the side of him. Gerard was twisting Mikey’s hair through his fingers, whilst thin fingers traced circular patterns on his stomach. Warm breath tickled his chest. “What happened to Frank and Bert?” Mikey asked, eyes watching the patterns his fingers were creating.

“They’re back at my room. Probably shagging.” Gerard assumed a half-smile on his face.

Mikey giggled, earning a questioning look from Gerard, to which he just shrugged. “Rather amusing image, don’t you think?” he asked, light-heartedly earning the ‘I fail to see the funny side’ look from Gerard, raised eyebrows and all.

“Shh, Mikey.” Gerard whispered, “Time to sleep.” He continued, patting Mikey on the head softly.

Mikey looked up and smiled, placing a kiss on the other man’s lips. “Night, Gee.”

“Sleep tight, Mikey.” Gerard replied closing his eyes and slowly drifting to sleep, his brother cuddled up to him.
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Living Life The Good Way