Prompt: Waycest and/or Frank/Mikey crossdressing
Summary: He's not sure what he expected to find Gerard doing in his dorm room. “Prancing around in a dress” had never even begun to cross his mind.
Disclaimer: All lies.
Note: Written for 0nlymemories for the mcr4u fic exchange.
Mikey is all ready to say “Sorry, wrong room” and bolt. But then the thick-waisted, black-haired woman blinks at him and says, “Mikey?”
In Gerard's voice.
“Um,” Mikey says, and runs.
When he finds a deserted hallway, he slumps against the wall and stares at his knees. He's not sure what he expected to find Gerard doing in his dorm room. At best, something like what he'd be doing at home--working on a drawing, maybe, hunched over his desk with his headphones on. At worst, fucking some girl or shooting up heroin. “Prancing around in a dress” had never even begun to cross his mind.
It's not the first time he's seen Gerard in a compromising position. God knows how many times he walked in on him jacking off when they were younger. That seems different, though; masturbation is as normal as breathing, especially for an adolescent boy, but every guy doesn't start dressing up in women's clothes as soon as he goes off to college.
Or maybe they do, Mikey thinks. Maybe it's some rite of passage that nobody talks about. Maybe he should be out shopping now, just to get a head start. But it doesn't seem likely.
Mikey looks up to see Gerard hovering awkwardly above him. He's back in normal clothes, saints be praised, though it does look like he still has some eyeliner on.
“You can sit,” Mikey says, “if you want.” He's not sure what else to say.
Gerard sinks down beside him. “I'd say it wasn't what it looked like,” he says, “but you know, it probably was.”
“If by that you mean 'my brother in a dress,' then yeah.”
Gerard shifts uncomfortably. “We don't have to make this into a thing.”
Mikey quirks an eyebrow at him. “What is it, if it's not a 'thing'?”
“Just something I like to do once in a while,” Gerard replies quietly, “that's all.”
“Why?” Mikey isn't sure he wants to know, but he asks anyway.
“Feels good.” Gerard shrugs.
“That's pretty fucking vague.”
“I don't really know how else to put it. Unless you let me show you.”
“Show me? If that means getting me into a skirt, we can drop the subject right now.”
“If you want to understand, it's the best way.” Gerard's voice is getting that slippery quality, the same one he's always used to talk Mikey into things.
“What's there to understand? What would it do? It's just clothes.” Mikey scowls in frustration.
“You're right,” Gerard says amiably, “it is just clothes.”
Mikey stays quiet, waiting for the catch.
“So we could forget the whole thing,” Gerard continues. “We could go back to my room, order pizza, watch Rosemary's Baby, and pretend this never happened.”
The prospect is tantalizing. Mikey keeps waiting, though.
“Or,” Gerard says, “you could let me show you just what it feels like.”
Mikey, as Gerard goddamn well knows, has never been able to resist a curiosity. If it's presented in the right way--like Gerard is doing now, dangling it in front of him like a prize for the taking--he will always follow it to its conclusion, however messy it may be. The promise of an unknown sensation is all Gerard needs to make him go along with whatever ridiculous thing he has in mind.
“Can we still do the pizza and movie afterwards?” Mikey asks helplessly.
Gerard beams. “Of course.”
Back in the dorm room, Gerard rummages through his closet, pulling out articles of clothing here and there. He explains that the items he's chosen have been bought at a thrift store without being tried on, and later turned out to be “like three sizes too small, so they should fit you just right.” After he's assembled an outfit, he grabs Mikey by the elbow and herds him into the bathroom.
Mikey feels slightly dizzy. “Wait, what? Why are we in here?”
Gerard brandishes a razor. “To shave your legs.”
“What? No. No. I agreed to the fucking clothes, I did not agree to anything involving blades, jesus. No.”
Gerard holds up the razor in a manner that is looking more and more dangerous as seconds pass. “Do you want to do this right or not?”
Mikey has a sudden, vivid flashback of Gerard at age ten, telling him that if he really wants to be Spider-Man, he'll stop whining and jump off the roof already, and of course the string will hold, don't be stupid. Listening to him was a bad idea then, and it's a bad idea now, but somehow Mikey never learned to steer clear of Gerard's bad ideas in the intervening time.
“Try not to cut me too much, okay?”
“It's all right,” Gerard says, sitting Mikey down on the closed lid of the toilet and rolling up his pant legs, “I've had practice.”
True to his word, Gerard gets Mikey's legs smooth with a minimum of nicks, and he leads him back into the main room and orders him to strip. “Come on, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before.”
Mikey starts to undress slowly, until it occurs to him that this feels like a striptease, and he shucks his remaining clothes unceremoniously. Gerard hands him a pair of panties, which he stares at dumbly before putting them on. They're blue, which doesn't seem so bad--at least they're not pink--and made of something silky. A bra follows, and he puts that on too, feeling vaguely ridiculous when he looks down at the empty cups. Gerard notices and gets him a couple of rolled-up socks to stuff it with.
Next comes a pair of nylons, which almost cause Mikey to fall over and break something until Gerard sits him down on the bed and shows him how to ease them gradually up his legs. Once the waistband is firmly settled above his hips, Gerard helps him into a black pencil skirt that clings to his thighs and only seems to highlight his lack of figure. The accompanying blouse is simple and unadorned, but bright red. Gerard fastens the buttons for him, which seems unnecessary, but Mikey lets him do it anyway.
Now that Mikey is fully dressed, Gerard stands up and surveys him with a critical eye. “Makeup,” he says finally, and opens a drawer. Mikey keeps as still as he can manage while Gerard sits practically in his lap and applies various creams and powders to his face. When he pulls back and nods, satisfied, Mikey asks if they're done yet.
“One more thing.” Gerard goes back to the closet and pulls out a pair of shiny leather pumps.
“How am I supposed to walk in those?”
“It's not that hard. Besides, we're not going anywhere.” Mikey puts the shoes on and stands up, wobbling a little and grabbing Gerard's arm for support. There's a full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, and Mikey examines himself in it.
As far as he can tell, he mostly just looks ridiculous. But if he steps back and takes off his glasses, he can almost believe he's looking at a woman.
“Wow,” Gerard breathes. “Look at you.”
Mikey still isn't sure what Gerard meant about women's clothes feeling good. He's being squeezed and pinched in at least seven different places, without even getting into what the underwear is doing to him. Other than that, he doesn't really feel any different.
The way Gerard is looking at him, though--that's something new.
Gerard takes him by the shoulders and turns him around so they're facing each other. His left hand brushes the hem of Mikey's skirt; with his right, he touches the patch of skin right where the blouse's collar opens, at the base of Mikey's throat. “Beautiful,” he says in a near-whisper.
Goosebumps break out over Mikey's skin. Gerard keeps touching him, just small brushes of fingertips along his arms, hips, jawline. The strain of his dick against his panties makes him realize how hard he's become, just from Gerard's wide-eyed gaze, from the lightness of his touch.
And Gerard, of course he notices. The back of his hand rubs the bulge at the front of Mikey's skirt.
“I want--” Gerard swallows. “Can I...?”
“Please.” Mikey isn't even sure what he's asking for; he just wants.
Gerard's hand slides up inside his skirt, skimming along his inner thigh. Mikey gasps when it reaches his panties, stroking his cock through the silk. Gerard rubs him a few times, eliciting a small whimper, before dropping to his knees.
Mikey watches, transfixed, as Gerard pulls his skirt up, tugs the waistband of his nylons down, and moves the crotch of his panties to one side, slipping his dick out through the leg hole. Mikey has to clutch at Gerard's shoulders to keep from losing his balance when Gerard takes him into his mouth.
Gerard's tongue presses against the underside of his cock and swirls around the head, his lips undulating on his shaft. All Mikey can do is hold on, fighting the weakness in his knees, while Gerard sucks him and strokes his stockinged legs.
When Mikey comes, Gerard pulls back and catches it on his face. It shouldn't be hot, Mikey thinks, looking down at his brother's face streaked with come, but it's not the first unexpected thing that's happened to him today.
Mikey cautiously lowers himself to the floor, still getting used to the high heels, and kisses Gerard on the lips. He feels a little of the wetness on his chin.
Gerard looks shell-shocked when he pulls back. Typical Gerard, to give a blowjob without hesitation and be surprised by a kiss. “You can change back now,” he says after grasping for words for a minute.
“I could,” Mikey replies, feeling his lips curl into a smirk. “Or we could do something else first.” He glances pointedly at the bulge in Gerard's pants.
“Where the hell did you learn to be so persuasive?”
Mikey smiles a little wider. “I think we both know the answer to that.”