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Post #153
skipstoomuch wrote in anon_lovefest
What the Night Dragged In (unrequited!Brendon/Ryan}
Skin-deep Ink (Frank/Gerard/Travis}

I declare this a regular post again!

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How about some Party Poison/MCR!Mikey or MCR!Gerard/Kobra Kid?

in the process of writing this. I'm using bullets/early revenge era Gerard, if it's okay?

That's totally okay.

mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 1

warning, sort of dubcon and a little bit of angst towards the end.

Gerard is fucking itching. And sweating. And it’s not just because it’s hot here out in the zones-- because it is, and it’s even hotter in this club, and it’s been heating up since Cold Dead Hands went on stage. He’s nervous, that’s why. He feels so completely out of place out in the zones, even in the seedy clubs out here. He’s used to the underground vampires on the edge of Battery City, not the loud and bright of the killjoys out here. He’s so out of place, with his ragged black metal shirt and his black leather jacket, with his greasy black hair hanging around his face in no discernible style and his skin that has very carefully been protected from the desert sun for years and just, the overall softness of him, not as lean and starved as the zonerunners around him. So he sits back at the bar, one hand clenching a beer that might have been warm to begin with and was certainly not worth the amount of credits he had spent on it, the other hand crammed in his jacket pocket, gripping all the carbons he had left.

It was just enough. He had used up all his medcreds on refills for the month already, he had blown his vice tab in a week. He could get booze easily closer to Battery City, but his contact for pills had dracs banging down his door last week and had disappeared into the deserts. He hadn’t had time yet to find a new contact, and he was down to seven pills. In theory, that should last him a week. In reality, he’s already down to five because he chokes down another two with his beer when he sees Kobra Kid and his bright red jacket making his way through the crowd, and oh god, he’s nervous again. It’s been a few years since he did this dance with Kobra Kid or any of the Killjoys, but Kobra Kid recognizes him anyway. He saunters over and Gerard is mutilating his bottom lip with his teeth. He greets Gerard with a nod; Gerard returns a flickering glance, hand tightening around the carbons in his pocket.

He keeps repeating to himself in his head about how he needs these pills he really does and it’s fucking BL/ind and their restrictions they got me into this mess they put me on the pills in the first place when Kobra Kid leans in near his ear and asks him over the blaring music if he wants to go out and have a cigarette. Head swimming, he nods yes and stumbles off behind Kobra Kid towards the door.

mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 2

When they leave the club, everything gets very surreal for Gerard. It might just be the medication seeping in. The desert seems deafeningly quiet, the noise of the club seems muted and far away even though they are just leaning on the thin walls around back of the Fuck You. The desert wind picks up a little, howling across the emptiness. It blows Gerard’s greasy hair into his face like a veil, it cuts through his worn-out Slayer shirt with a surprising chill. The way the desert gets cold at night, it always surprised him. He passes a cigarette to Kobra Kid, and the nervousness in his system spikes when Kobra Kid leans in close to get at the flame of the lighter. It takes a few tries between the wind and Gerard’s shaking hands to get the lighter going. He watches Kobra Kid out of the corner of his eye, watches the way his thin limbs move with what seems like no effort at all, the way his cheeks hollow when he inhales, the way his dry blonde hair moves in the night air. The casual way he leans back against the wall, while Gerard is hunched and tense. How lean and thin he is, the dusty tan warmth of his skin, compared to how soft and pale Gerard feels, vulnerable like the white underbelly of a helpless animal. Out here in the zones, drunk, woozy, scared.

“Long time since I saw you this far out. Thought you cleaned up or something. What’d you need?” Kobra Kid finally asks.

“X’s and O’s. If you have any timewarp--” he swallows, nervous and embarrassed. X’s to calm his nerves. O’s to keep him up. Timewarp to shut him down. “And um, some i-rap’s if you have it.”

Oh god, of course he has to blurt out that he needs fucking pills to get off these days. He doesn’t really need them, but ever since Bert hopped out to the zones, his hands and bot mags alone haven’t been enough. Kobra doesn’t even bat an eye.

“I don’t need much. Of any of it. I need, um, a bottle of each, at least. And then just a blister of timewarp,” he hastily adds, then busies himself with his cigarette and tugging at the broken zipper on the cuff of his leather jacket before he can say anything stupid. “How much is it gonna cost me?”

“300 c’s for the X’s and O’s, 150 each. 75 for a blister of timewarp,” he says, so casually and coolly it hurts. How many times a night does Kobra Kid run through this? And then the price sets in, and Gerard chokes.

300?” Fuck, that’s twice as much as he would have paid Bert for those two. Then again, he might have been getting a discount because their drug deals always ended in Bert pinning him down and fucking his ass while the timewarp seeped through Gerard’s system.

“Zones have been hot lately. Extra dracs on the ‘voys, brinks instead of the usual white tanks, a bunch ‘a runners got ghosted lately. We gotta keep gas in the ‘Am.”

mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 3

The panic is rising in Gerard’s system, a silent terror, a mortified feeling. God, he had been so stupid, so naive, now he was fucked. He wants to swallow down a few more X’s, but he knows if he takes another dose, he’s not going to make it home tonight. There’s no way he’s going to make it to the next time he can get out to the zones on just five pills.

He shakes his head and pulls anxiously on his cigarette, collapsing back against the wall, trying to calm himself down, trying to hide the waves of anxiety. The gears are turning in Gerard’s head, too. They’re turning too fast, crunching into each other violently, breaking the machine down. His heart flops in his chest when he thinks “Well if it worked with Bert maybe it’ll work with Kobra Kid”, horrified he would even consider it, but then again, how many times did he go on his knees for Bert and his friends? How would this be any different?

He knows he’s kidding himself when he thinks he has some semblance of morals or self-respect or standards. And fuck, it isn’t like Kobra Kid isn’t good-looking and effortlessly cool. It isn’t like Kid’s pants leave anything to the imagination.

“Can we meet halfway on this?” Gerard says, eyes flickering up and down. Kobra Kid raises an eyebrow but he gets the message. His fingers run down the soft, worn red leather of the sleeve of Kobra Kid’s jacket, but he doesn’t feel it, he feels detached. This close, god, he can’t deny that he finds Kobra Kid incredibly attractive, all angles and sharp edges. He manages a sloppy half-grin. “I’ve got 200 c’s on me right now. What were you gonna spend the c’s on anyway? That’s not gonna buy you much time with a ‘droid girl.”

Kobra Kid has a look on his face that clearly says, convince me, but his hand is creeping gingerly to the small of Gerard’s back. And suddenly, Kobra Kid’s mouth is crashing against his, dusty and dry. Gerard makes noises into his mouth when Kid’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he tugs away to make it hurt more, because it’s a great sensation in the midst of the numbing medication. Kobra’s hand sneaks up to the back of Gerard’s head in response, and he lets Kobra take the lead. When they finally pull apart, Gerard can feel his lips throbbing in dull pain; he knows right now they are swollen, red, slightly parted, his face tilted up towards Kobra Kid’s. He knows he looks fucking filthy, and Kobra’s eyes are taking it all in, eyes fixed on him like a predatory animal. It’s a look he’s seen before from Kobra.

mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 4

Kobra goes right for Gerard’s throat, like a fucking wolf, teeth scraping against his exposed, pale neck. He breathes something like, “God, you still remind me of Party Poison,” and Gerard’s hips instinctively buck against Kobra. He slurs something like, “I’m a better fuck”, which might be a lie, but it makes a noise escape Kobra’s throat. Gerard’s splayed hand is trailing down the thin material of Kobra’s shirt, until he hits the cool metal of his belt buckle. Kobra Kid’s teeth sink into Gerard’s lip again when Gerard makes quick work of his belt and freeing Kobra’s dick from his jeans. Kobra Kid’s hand cradles his face for just a moment, a brief flash of eye contact while Kobra Kid moves back against the wall, before Gerard drops to his knees in the desert sand. One hand slides up under Kobra’s olive green shirt, fingers pressed against his skin, feeling his muscles move under the surface; the other hand wraps lightly around his dick. Gerard’s head starts spinning from the sudden altitude change, his lips are hypersensitive and throbbing in the midst of his medicated haze. He hesitates for a few moments, half-open mouth lingering close enough to Kobra’s dick for his breath to hit it. Kobra groans and curses at him, hips twitching forward, and Gerard gives another sloppy grin before he gets to work with his already-sore lips.

Gerard feels out of his body and far away, detached again, even as he is acutely aware of the feeling and taste of Kobra Kid’s dick in his mouth. He goes slow at first, teasing, pulling off completely a few times just to hear Kobra cursing at him. The way Kobra swears and grips Gerard’s greasy black hair is making him hard. He purposely shifts a little so the denim of his jeans presses more against his own cock, just to get a little friction, and turns his attention back to Kobra Kid. His mouth gets to work again as the band inside starts playing a cover of The Stooges’ “T.V. Eye”, and he gets a good rhythm going, everything blurred by the thump of the bass and all the drugs under his skin. He draws out breathy moans from Kobra the more he uses his tongue, and moans in reply when Kobra starts digging his nails into Gerard’s scalp.

Gerard can tell when Kobra is close, but Kobra yanks Gerard back by his hair. Gerard stares up at him with half-glassy eyes.

“Wanna fuck you,” Kobra growls. “Wanna get you against the wall and fuck you.”

“Next time,” Gerard slurs. He knows he’s too medicated and over-stimulated right now to stay upright long enough. He dips down, running his tongue along the inside of Kobra’s thigh, mouthing at Kobra’s balls until he grabs Gerard’s hair again and pulls him away. Gerard’s hand has wandered down, palming at his own crotch. He leans in to Kobra’s hand tangling into his hair.

mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 5

“Just fuck my mouth. C’mon,” Gerard’s breath comes out in a hoarse moan as he jerks his hips up towards his hand. Christ, just the thought of it... his hand reluctant leaves his groin in favor of groping at the back of Kobra’s thigh instead, running his hands up to Kobra’s hips as he takes him in his mouth again. Gerard’s mouth works urgently now, almost desperate. He’s lost his rhythm now that the band has gone off and the tinny PA in the club is playing “Ace of Spades” between sets, but he doesn’t care. The noises Kobra Kid is making over him is just egging him on at this point. Kobra Kid’s hips stutter, rutting forward, and Gerard takes it. He moans, and that sets Kobra Kid over the edge with a cry through gritted teeth. Gerard pulls away, cum and spit glistening on his swollen lips. Kobra Kid wipes it away with shaking fingers, but Gerard catches him before he can pull away, and sucks the taste of Kobra’s fingers.

Kobra pulls his hands away, and then helps Gerard to his feet. He murmurs into Gerard’s ear as he presses Gerard back against the half-charred brick wall of the Fuck You. “Fuck, you’re so good. I fucking missed that. Better than the fuckin’ ‘droid girls. You’re so fucking good.”

“Told you so,” Gerard says while a sheepish grin crosses his face. He tilts his head back as Kobra undoes the heavy bat belt buckle and tugs down Gerard’s ragged grey jeans and boxers. Kobra doesn’t even bother to take off his driving gloves before his hand starts moving on Gerard’s cock. Kobra’s other hand slides up his shirt, but Gerard is too lost in the sensations to feel embarrassed about his pale white skin or soft stomach. Gerard’s hips roll in rhythm with Kobra’s hand; head tilted back, Gerard doesn’t even try to stifle the noises he’s making. Kobra tries to muffle them with another kiss, and Gerard comes.

Kobra smirks as he wipes the mess off his hands on to Gerard’s pale skin and his blue boxers. Gerard just stays collapsed against the wall, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat making his hair stick to his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his mouth still swollen and red. He’s not ready to move, not ready to go back into the Fuck You, because between his dusty knees and his flushed face, it’s fucking obvious what he’s been up to. The chemicals in his system are hitting him like a freight train anyway. Kobra fixes his pants, and then helps Gerard; Gerard’s hands can’t seem to get coordinated again.

mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 6 (final)

“You gonna be okay?” Kobra asks, steadying Gerard. Gerard nods.

“I’m fuckin’ fine, just--” Gerard stumbles a little in the uneven desert sand, but he makes it over to the Killjoys’ car. He runs his fingers over the haphazard paintjob on the side of the car while Kobra Kid digs out the stash of pills from a hidden panel in the back seat. Gerard knows each stroke was put down by Party Poison, and it makes something in him ache. He could be that free, right? Instead of his miserable existence in Battery City, pumping out more of those fucking Mousekat PSAs. Dumbing himself down. Medicating. How long had it been since he drew something he liked?

How was it any different than getting down on his knees and sucking Kobra Kid’s dick or letting Bert fuck his ass? He felt cheap, useless, used.

“Here,” Kobra shoves the white bottles into Gerard’s hand. Gerard stutters and stalls. He wants to dump the pills into the sand, he wants to beg Kobra not to let him go back to Battery City. Take him somewhere where he can detox, get off the BL/ind drugs, let him be one of them. He could clean up and come home, and his brother would be so fucking proud of him. But the old fear creeps under his skin like a distant, old song-- fear of death, fear of the future, fear of everything outside his safe basement flat in Battery City. “Do you want me to take you back to the metro station? Gerard, are you okay? Shit, you’re looking really ghosty.”

Gerard just shakes his head, fingers gripping the red leather of Kobra Kid’s jacket.

“Take me anywhere-- I don’t care, I don’t-- care...”

Re: mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 6 (final)

not op but that was hottttt. plus lovely work with the verse.

Re: mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 6 (final)

not op but i fucking adoooored that. *____* besides being really hot and really well-written i love what it did with the 'verse, the pills and eeeeverything, i love when people flesh out the killjoy 'verse in their own ways. fucking amazing, anon.

Re: mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 6 (final)

That's really good! Heartbreaking and hot and fascinating.

Re: mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 6 (final)

*looks under couch for the rest*

Yeah, this was most excellent and I would love to see more. Pretty please.

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Re: mcr!gerard/kobra kid part 6 (final)

Here from a rec by Akamine-chan. This was awesome. Everything is so clearly painted ♥!

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