![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Hang On To Yourself by brooklinegirl (NC-17)
Fandom: BANDOM
Pairing: none
Length: 2,280 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brooklinegirl
Author Website: fic masterlist
Why this must be read: Glam became about the kid in the room, the poster on the wall, putting on a women's short fur coat and eyeliner, with no shirt on, just listening to this music.
This story about a teenaged Gerard in his basement, listening to Bowie and putting on makeup is absolutely wonderful. Not only is it scorchingly hot, the Gerard characterisation is fantastic. I also love the visual and tactile descriptions, they make the story feel so sensual and lush.
Excerpt from the story:
He turned around then, and slid aside the sheet that was the doorway to his closet. Elena's old fur jacket - gray, thick, heavy in a way nothing in the stores today was - hung there. She'd let him have it after seeing him eye it in her closet for months. Elena got him like no one else did - she'd just arched one eyebrow and pulled it out, handing it to him with a smile.
He didn't know what it was about it, but oh man. He loved the heft it. He loved the ruffle of fur against his skin. He'd been thinking about it in the weeks since she'd given it to him, but this was his first time actually putting it on.
He slipped into it, the lining sliding smooth over his skin, giving him goosebumps and sending a shudder down his spine. The fur brushed his neck, his cheeks, his wrists, and as he turned back to the mirror, he realized with a start that he was half-hard and hadn't even noticed it. He swallowed nervously, shifting his stance, but his cock felt kind of good and heavy in his jeans. He tilted his head a little to the left before reaching up and popping the collar of the jacket.
Oh man. He looked fantastic.
He was breathing faster now, and when he bit his lip, he tasted berry. He palmed the front of his jeans, where his cock was pressing up against the zipper, and swallowed a moan - it felt so good. He looked at himself again, at his dark eyes in the mirror, at how the paleness of his chest looked right, now, looked soft and different in the shadow of the jacket. He let his fingers run over the hard outline of his cock in his jeans and he leaned in, pressing his other hand against the wall next to the mirror. God. Just the light touch of his fingers against his jeans was such a fucking tease.
He took a breath, watching in the mirror how his hair shifted when he let his breath out hard. He hesitated with his fingertips on his cock, then cupped himself, hard and firm, and oh god, oh god, yeah, that. He wanted more.
The song switched and Gerard leaned over, turned it up louder, so all he could hear was Bowie - no cars passing by outside, none of the creaking of the house. Just this, just the music.
He leaned closer to the mirror, bracing himself against the wall and making these choked gasping noises as he watched his own reflection. His knees were shaking. He couldn't take this. It was exactly what he fucking wanted. Everything felt like too much - the fur against his wrists, the denim against his waist, the slick slide of his lips as he pressed them together to bite back a moan.
Hang On To Yourself
Pairing: none
Length: 2,280 words
Author on LJ:
brooklinegirlAuthor Website: fic masterlist
Why this must be read: Glam became about the kid in the room, the poster on the wall, putting on a women's short fur coat and eyeliner, with no shirt on, just listening to this music.
This story about a teenaged Gerard in his basement, listening to Bowie and putting on makeup is absolutely wonderful. Not only is it scorchingly hot, the Gerard characterisation is fantastic. I also love the visual and tactile descriptions, they make the story feel so sensual and lush.
Excerpt from the story:
He turned around then, and slid aside the sheet that was the doorway to his closet. Elena's old fur jacket - gray, thick, heavy in a way nothing in the stores today was - hung there. She'd let him have it after seeing him eye it in her closet for months. Elena got him like no one else did - she'd just arched one eyebrow and pulled it out, handing it to him with a smile.
He didn't know what it was about it, but oh man. He loved the heft it. He loved the ruffle of fur against his skin. He'd been thinking about it in the weeks since she'd given it to him, but this was his first time actually putting it on.
He slipped into it, the lining sliding smooth over his skin, giving him goosebumps and sending a shudder down his spine. The fur brushed his neck, his cheeks, his wrists, and as he turned back to the mirror, he realized with a start that he was half-hard and hadn't even noticed it. He swallowed nervously, shifting his stance, but his cock felt kind of good and heavy in his jeans. He tilted his head a little to the left before reaching up and popping the collar of the jacket.
Oh man. He looked fantastic.
He was breathing faster now, and when he bit his lip, he tasted berry. He palmed the front of his jeans, where his cock was pressing up against the zipper, and swallowed a moan - it felt so good. He looked at himself again, at his dark eyes in the mirror, at how the paleness of his chest looked right, now, looked soft and different in the shadow of the jacket. He let his fingers run over the hard outline of his cock in his jeans and he leaned in, pressing his other hand against the wall next to the mirror. God. Just the light touch of his fingers against his jeans was such a fucking tease.
He took a breath, watching in the mirror how his hair shifted when he let his breath out hard. He hesitated with his fingertips on his cock, then cupped himself, hard and firm, and oh god, oh god, yeah, that. He wanted more.
The song switched and Gerard leaned over, turned it up louder, so all he could hear was Bowie - no cars passing by outside, none of the creaking of the house. Just this, just the music.
He leaned closer to the mirror, bracing himself against the wall and making these choked gasping noises as he watched his own reflection. His knees were shaking. He couldn't take this. It was exactly what he fucking wanted. Everything felt like too much - the fur against his wrists, the denim against his waist, the slick slide of his lips as he pressed them together to bite back a moan.
Hang On To Yourself