Day 7- Hybristophilia & Drunk Sex

Rating: NC-17 ; Dead Dove

Fandom: MCR

Ships: Gerard/??? (it's supposed to be frank though)

Warnings: Murder, 9/11, alcoholism, dubcon, puke, blackmail... AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREEEEE

Gerard was starting to attain a history of just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seemed. The first time was in September of last year, even though it felt like it was permanently stuck as yesterday. The debris, the screaming. The people jumping out of windows to end it quicker. 

He wished he could forget, so he tried his damn best to. He put in his two weeks and started drinking himself to death once he didn't have a job to show up to hungover, because the fluorescent office lights really wouldn't agree with him.

The second time was now, walking home from the bar in a dark alley. Gerard always took the dimly-lit short route home, because he didn't have anything worth stealing and if someone killed him he'd be thankful. He didn't expect to be a witness , though.

Gerard stood still as he watched him push the woman's body, cold and limp, into a dumpster. The man was maybe his height or smaller, and the front of his white shirt was stained red with the woman's blood. Gerard knew he should have run, called the police, something, but… he just stood there, and watched, and wondered if it hurt more to fall from 1,300 feet up or if you'd die on impact before you felt the pain. A part of him hoped it would hurt.

Gerard was pulled out of his thoughts when the shorter man grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pressed a knife to his throat. Gerard could see him better now in the dim moonlight. There was something crazy in his big, dark eyes, and his hair looked like a rat's nest. Something about it aroused Gerard in a way he didn't fully understand.

"I said, what are you FUCKING looking at?!" The shorter man repeated himself, much louder this time, because Gerard apparently hadn't heard him.

"I won't tell anyone," Gerard quickly said, stumbling back with surprise. 

"And how do I know that, huh?" The man spat. "How do I know you won't run off and rat me out to the cops?"

"You don't," Gerard answered simply, staring at the bloodstains on his shirt. He wondered if it was arterial or venous. "Just kill me if you're going to, I don't have all day."

"Christ," the killer huffed. "Fuck it, you're my alibi now, get on your knees."

"What?" Gerard asked, before being easily shoved to his knees. His stomach lurched. The man quickly undid the front of his jeans and pulled out his cock, hard and dark with blood. Gerard wondered if he'd gotten off on killing that girl.

"Suck," he harshly demanded, and Gerard didn't see himself in a position to refuse. He'd done worse things anyway, right? So he closed his eyes and sucked, bracing his hands on the man's thighs as he pleased him with his mouth. Gerard was almost surprised to find he didn't hate this, really, couldn't find it in himself to feel how humiliating or degrading it was probably meant to be. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was his fucked up head- they were the same thing most of the time. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see the man light a match and toss it into a nearby trashcan- what was he doing? Gerard's movements lulled to a slow stop as he stared into the growing fire, the flames that licked at the sky. The billowing smoke. 

Gerard was jolted back into the present by a slap to the face, definitely hard enough to leave a mark. The same hand tangled in his hair and tugged so he was forced to look upwards, gaze locking with the mechanical eye of a cell phone camera.

"Yeah, that's it, smile for the camera, faggot," the blood-stained man groaned as he clicked the button, sealing the moment in a photograph. He punctuated the action with a rough thrust into Gerard's mouth. 

"The cops come asking too many questions and your pretty lips around my dick will be on the nine o'clock news," he panted, "So you better fucking keep 'em shut."

Gerard moaned around the cock in his mouth, nodding along. The thrill of it all excited him, maybe not in a way it would if he was totally sober. He didn't really understand what the guy's plan was exactly, but it didn't matter- he believed him. It wasn't much longer before the killer came in his mouth, the salty taste of cum almost overwhelming. It was disgusting. As soon as he pulled away, Gerard lurched forward on his hands and knees and spat it out onto the pavement, and then he gagged again at the aftertaste, and suddenly all the alcohol he'd drank that night came up with it. 

"You're disgusting," the stranger noted as he zipped up his jeans and turned, hands in his pockets as he walked away.