Frank said, "My boyfriend thinks you're luscious."
Jon peered suspiciously at the glass of Johnny he was currently working his way through. Then he attacked the problem from another angle. "Did he actually use that word?"
"Mikeyway is a master of understatement," Frank said, sounding somewhat disgusted. Jon took that as a "no."
"Wait. Mikey Way?" Admittedly, until Frank had uttered the word "boyfriend" Jon hadn't much thought about his sexual preference, one way or another. But if he was dating a member of the male species, Jon had really thought it more likely to be the older Way. That was what everyone seemed to think, in any case.
"Gerard doesn't have a problem with understatement, so much," Frank said, as if in answer to Jon's question. The point was true enough that it startled a laugh from Jon. Frank clinked his beer against Jon's glass and took a sip. Jon followed him in the sip, but the clean burn of the alcohol didn't help Jon to understand any more about the conversation than he had the moment before. Frank took another few sips in quick succession and Jon thought it was maybe a sign of nerves, but when he spoke again, it was casual, considering. "Mikey, he doesn't say that about a lot of guys."
Jon nodded after a second, when Frank didn't say anything else. "Um. I'm flattered?"
"Damn right you are," Frank said. "What about you, Jon Walker? What do you think of my Mikeyway?"
Oh wow, trick question. Jon took another sip and did his best not to choke while considering the possible responses he could give. "I--"
And suddenly, Frank was dead serious. "Honestly, Jon. No-- Just the honest answer."
Jon nodded and said, "Mikey is--" he tried to think up a word that encompassed his opinion. He finished lamely with, "hot."
Frank nodded solemnly, as if Jon had just given him devastating news. He said, "Look, not that it really matters what you think of us, or anything, but I don't want you-- We don't usually do this. Ever, actually."
He didn't sound embarrassed, just firm about the point, like it was the uniqueness of the action that mattered. Jon said, "Okay."
"But I was wondering, me, really, much more than Mikey, I mean, he likes the idea, don't get me wrong, but he's not as--" Frank shook his head. "Not the point."
Jon, who sometimes got sharper about two glasses in, or at least fuzzy enough to say the things he usually would have filtered aloud, asked, "Are you asking me to have a threesome with you and Mikeyway?"
Frank said, "Probably would've been easier just to say that, huh?" and smiled earnestly at Jon. Jon was a little amazed he and Mikey had ever managed to tell each other they wanted to have hot, hot sex with each other. Then again, maybe Mikey was just hiding his ability to be direct under a chasm of misleading tendencies for the press.
"Lead the way," Jon told him.
Frank blinked. "Does it usually happen that smoothly?"
Jon shrugged. "First time I've ever been the one asked."
"Oh. So my boyfriend just has really good taste?"
Jon finished off the last of his glass and set it on the nearest table. "Clearly."
Frank slipped Jon his card key and told him the room number, so Jon went up on his own. He shucked off his flip flops and sat down on the bed. Their room looked much like the one he had been sharing with Brendon. He took a moment to text Brendon, "gt lcky. c u tmrw."
Brendon's response was almost immediate. "hate u. expct d-tales."
Jon rolled his eyes and turned his Sidekick off. He fell onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, wondering how exactly this was going to go. It wasn't Jon's first threesome. That had been with Cassie and the girl she'd been crushing on all semester-- Jon made himself stop thinking about it. At eight months out, Jon could almost make himself believe he was over her so long as he didn't think about her too much. It was Jon's first threesome where he was the third. It was his first threesome with other guys. Jon took a breath, a little startled by the wave of arousal he experienced at the thought. Well, at least he knew he'd made the right decision.
He heard the door open and sat up. Frank herded Mikey in and closed the door behind him. Mikey said, "Hi Jon," softly and smiled. It was an open smile, eager and unsure all at once. Jon had a feeling his responding smile was pretty similar. "Mikey."
There was a moment of awkward silence before Frank held up a toothbrush still in its packaging. "I told the front desk I forgot mine."
Jon was lost for a quick second until his peripheral vision caught on Mikey, who looked embarrassed. Then Jon just walked over to Frank, swiped the brush and said, "Good thinking."
Frank followed him into the bathroom, and, after a second, Mikey, and the three of them went to. Jon wasn't sure why Mikey was brushing his teeth except maybe not to be left out of the action. Jon had nothing against minty breath, so he didn't feel the need to complain. When they were done, Jon followed Mikey back out into the main room, Frank right behind him. They stood there for another few seconds before Frank said, "I just-- I just want to watch, for a bit," his voice catching at watch.
Jon looked at him. Frank shrugged. "We don't have, like, mirrors in convenient places on the bus or at home. I don't get to see him do what he does usually."
Mikey threaded the fingers of one hand into Frank's hair--just long enough to fall over his ears at the moment--and pulled him in for a kiss. Frank went easily and Jon watched the way they knew the countour of each other's bodies, the rhythm of how to give and take in the kiss. In Jon's experience, good kissing like that only came from years of practice. He shut that thought down, too. Mikey dragged his lips over the line of Frank's cheekbone and whispered something. Frank said, "Mm, I guess," and pulled Mikey's shirt over his head. And it wasn't as though Jon hadn't expected there to actually be miles and miles of torso underneath that shirt, but seeing it was something else entirely. He sucked in a breath.
Frank murmured, "I know, right?" without even looking at Jon. He was too busy going in to suck at Mikey's collar bone, slipping his hands just below the waist of Mikey's jeans. At some point, Mikey's eyes fluttered open to do their best to focus on Jon and he smiled, a small, goofy, happy smile. Jon found that he literally couldn't help smiling back. Mikey had his hand at the back of Frank's neck, where his thumb was caressing up and down, up and down in a way that told Jon Mikey wasn't even thinking about it, it was just instinct. There was nothing staged about the two of them, no smoldering looks, no orders that were given for Jon's sake, just two guys who had clearly done this before, would do it again and would enjoy it every single time.
Frank moved downwards, unbuttoning Mikey's jeans and divesting him of his boxers and taking Mikey eagerly, smoothly into his mouth. Jon went and sat down on the bed, tucking his hands beneath his legs. If he touched himself, he was going to be done long before either one of them touched him. And Mikey had one of the nicest cocks Jon had ever seen. His experience with cocks wasn't the most wide-ranging on the planet, or anything, but it wasn't precisely scant, either. Mikey had a gorgeous cock, one that fit him just right.
Mikey gasped, "Frank," and Frank pulled off, helping Mikey the rest of the way to naked. Mikey looked at Jon, a little fuzzy around the edges with pleasure and said, "I'd sort of really like to fuck you, if that's okay and all."
Jon fell twice in his rush to get his pants off until Frank took pity on him and helped him with the divesting of his clothes. Mikey didn't laugh. Well, okay, Mikey laughed when Jon started laughing at himself, but even then it was a startled laugh, like his mind was on other things. Frank totally laughed, but it wasn't mean. It was the kind of laugh that said, "Yeah, been there, done that." Jon could believe it.
When the two of them had managed the clearly impossible, Mikey came over and lined himself up against Jon, found the angle where their mouths fit best, and kissed him. It wasn't slow, but it wasn't rushed, either. Every inch of their skin was touching and Mikey tasted of toothpaste with a slight brush of nicotene that Jon was pretty sure was Frank. Mikey's hands were playing along Jon's biceps and Jon had to consciously not think about that image, about the hands that he had watched play his instrument so many times over the years drawing patterns on his arms.
Jon wasn't the kind of guy who was fancy about sex. He did his best to find what made himself and the other person feel good and he stuck with that. So when one of his fingers brushed over the very tip of Mikey's tailbone, and Mikey all but lost his legs, Jon went back in for a second touch, and then a third. Somewhere, Frank said, "Fuck."
Mikey shoved at the arms he'd been feeling out and Jon stumbled back onto the bed. Mikey's smile was pleased and apologetic all at once. Jon grinned up at him. Frank tossed Mikey some lube and Mikey wasted no time in slicking up his fingers. Jon, for his part, laid back and tucked his knees up, his feet flat on the bed. Mikey slid two fingers in at once which was both intense and perfect. Mikey had fingers like Ryan. They weren't quite as long or spindly as Ryan's, but Ryan was Ryan, and Jon was pretty sure nobody was quite going to live up in his head. Still, they were gorgeously long, rough in all the right ways from years of playing. Jon said, "Yeah, just--" and Mikey twisted. Jon's eyes rolled in the back of his head.
Mikey asked, "Third, or just--"
Jon tried to debate the possible merits, but he was too fucking gone to bother. "Please, Mikey, now please."
Mikey kissed his knee. There was the sound of paper ripping and a mumbled, "Thanks," and Jon looked up to see Mikey and Frank kissing shortly. Then Mikey pulled his fingers out and sank in and Jon arched as much as he could into it, trying to get Mikey to go deep, deeper. It was so good, so-- Mikey found his hands and intertwined their fingers. He leaned forward and rested his mouth against Jon's, just sharing breath for a moment before Jon couldn't stand it anymore, rose up the millimeter necessary to claim what was on offer. Mikey shortened his thrusts, trying to drive as hard as he could into Jon, in, in, in.
And Jon knew Cassie had been right. He would have always been thinking about this, about the difference between what she could do for him and the heat, the spark of sensation, the realness that Mikey could provide. She had been right about other things, too, but Jon had strictly forbidden himself to think about that. It was even more off limits than Cassie.
Mikey was saying something into his mouth, something about Jon, but the words were unimportant. There were other murmurings, Frank was talking about beautiful things and Mikey and Jon, but Jon couldn't make sense of it, didn't need to, knew that cadence, that intensity of speech. Spencer talked about Ryan that way sometimes. It didn't hurt as much, didn't tear Jon in as many different directions, listening to Frank.
Mikey whispered in his ear, "How much do you love this?"
Jon made a noise, not a coherent one, just a noise. Mikey whispered, "How much, Jon? Enough to come? Just from my cock?" Mikey punctuated the question with a particularly sharp thrust, one that made Jon's vision flash black for a moment. Mikey was still talking, though. "Just from Frank watching? Admiring?"
Jon made another noise, some kind of mewl and Mikey drove in and stilled, said, "Jon," and yeah, it was enough, it was more than enough. Jon came so hard it nearly hurt, so hard that when he came back down, it took him a moment to reorient, to realize that Mikey was pulling out, his hands pressed to Jon's chest. Mikey said, "Jon," and this time it was a question. "Jon?"
Jon tried saying, "Yeah, fine." What came out was more of a mix of syllables, and whatever Mikey got from it, it prompted him to say, "Jon, can you-- Would Frank be too much?"
Jon had to roll the words over in his head a few times before he understood them and then the instinctive answer screaming from every single one of his pores was, "yes, fuck yes." Jon swallowed. "No."
Frank came over and caught Jon's gaze, his eyes unsure. Frank, Jon had figured out, was more careful with himself, with his energy, than people suspected, than his public persona gave away. Jon wouldn't think of Brendon, absolutely not. Frank was beautiful in his own right, sweet in his own way, and Jon was glad to be there with him, with Mikey. Jon met Frank's look with a calm and yet challenging one of his own. Frank grinned, wild and completely without any restraint. He had gotten naked at some point while Jon was being fucked through the mattress, and now he climbed onto the bed, tugging Jon upward toward the pillows. He rolled Jon on his side, where he found Mikey lying, facing him. Jon said, "Oh, hi."
Mikey kissed him. Frank sidled up against Jon's back and though he didn't bother with fingers, his approach was surprisingly gentle, slow. It was still overwhelming, Jon's body not yet having come down from his orgasm, his nerves all raw and open. It was possibly the hottest thing Jon had ever done. Mikey touched his hip and the mere contact of his fingers was like being set on fire. Frank settled all the way inside him and then pulled wholly out, head and all, and went back in, over and over, until Jon was fairly sure he'd go insane from the long drag of it, the sweet slide, the toomuchtoomuchnotenough.
Frank's hand found Mikey's when he came, the two of them holding tight, their knuckles brushing over, pressing into, the ridge of Jon's hip. Jon screamed, a strangled sound, pulled from him. Mikey kissed it up, swallowed it, and then shared it with Frank, the two of them kissing over Jon, their hair falling against his cheek. When they pulled apart, Mikey climbed out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. He brought back warm washcloths and cleaned Frank up before the two of them devoted their concentration and energy to cleaning up Jon, getting him underneath the covers and sheets.
Jon asked, "I'm staying here?"
Frank said, "It's late."
Jon laughed. They climbed back in, the two of them on opposite sides of Jon than before. Jon said, "I could move to one--" but Frank kissed the rest of the sentence from his mouth. "We only get you for one night, Jon Walker."
Jon was pretty sure they didn't mind having each other the rest of the time. The thought came with a pang of yearning, but no jealousy. They were curled around him, Mikey long and smooth, Frank small and warm. Jon was sort of all right with just getting the one night. It was more than most people ever would.
When Jon woke up, there was a note by his head.
We had to be out at 4, didn't want to wake you. Told your guys to get you breakfast and housekeeping not to clean up until ten.
Thanks for being Jon Walker. Call us.
Jon laughed and shook his head. He got out of bed, pulled himself into his clothes and took the elevator up the three floors needed to get to his guys. When he went in his room in search of a shower and perhaps the promised breakfast, instead of just Brendon lounging around and watching cartoons, he found Ryan, Spencer and Brendon all bent over their respective cellular telecommunication devices. They looked up when he came in and were silent for a second before Brendon asked, "What is the meaning of this, Jon Walker?"
"Brendon," Ryan said, a little hesitantly, but Spencer put a hand to Ryan's wrist and looked at Jon expectantly. Jon said, "What is the meaning of what?"
"This," Brendon said, and shoved his iPhone under Jon's nose. There was a text at 3:45 AM from Jon's number that said, "J will b hungry. Brkfst, pls? MWay."
Jon was pretty sure that wasn't what they were talking about. He scrolled down and sure enough, also from his number, at 3:52, "ur all idjits. he likes long fingers & tiny boys & hes urs. wtf? frank"
Jon reread it three times before coming to two decisions: 1) he was going to have to kill Frank Iero and find My Chem a new rhythmic guitarist and Mikey a new boyfriend, and 2) he was so, so screwed. Luckily, Jon had a way of handling himself when severely screwed: he lied. "It's Frank Iero, fuck if I know."
Spencer put his hands on his hips, which was never, ever a good thing. But Ryan was the one to talk first, to say, "He sent it to all of us. The same exact message."
"As a side note," Brendon put in, "when I said I wanted details, I had no idea how right I was. Seriously, Jon Walker, awesome."
Spencer bit the inside of his lip, clearly doing his best to remain unamused. Ryan was staring at his Sidekick again. Jon sighed, "Spence, Ry, I swear, I've got nothing. They asked me if I wanted to have a threesome, I did, we had one, that was it."
"Those are not details," Brendon clarified. Brendon said inappropriate things a lot when scared out of his mind.
"So, if Ryan offered you his fingers, if Brendon was to march his tiny self up to you and put his hands on your hips, you would say no?"
"Spence--" Jon started.
"If I were to say, 'Jon Walker, wanna have a foursome?' you would say no."
Jon couldn't breathe. "It was a one night stand, Spencer."
"That doesn't answer the question," Ryan said softly.
Jon bit back the "fuck you" that really wanted to make its way out. He was still struggling to hold it back when Spencer said, "You know, Haley, the thing I never told anyone, never said, was how she told me that it would always be the three of you. She didn't even sound mad when she said it, she sounded..."
"Sad," Ryan said. "Jealous, but not in a mean way."
Brendon's eyes widened looking at the two of them. Neither Spencer nor Ryan ever much spoke about the end of their respective relationships. Jon, for his part, tried to swallow, tried to speak. Finally, he managed a soft, scratched, "Cass-- Cassie, too."
Spencer nodded. He said, "I'm going to ask again. If Ryan--"
"No," Jon said, "I wouldn't say no. Ever. Not even if I thought-- Not even if it was only for one night."
Ryan snarled. Brendon said, "It wouldn't be," eyes wide and serious and still sort of scared.
Spencer quietly told Jon, "Brendon could probably use being kissed."
Jon said, "Ryan, too, I think."
Ryan nodded in agreement. Jon and Spencer shared a smile. Brendon tilted his face expectantly. Jon took a step closer to everything he wanted.