Ship: Gerard/Patrick
Words: 1053

It was a warm October evening when he asked me to show him myself.

The sky was dark, the fire was lit in the fireplace...

Gerard, my boyfriend of three weeks, had just moved out of his Mom's house and had nowhere else to go so I invited him to come and live at my house. We had just finished packing in the last of his boxes and we were cuddling on the couch. Our legs were tangled together, my head was resting on his chest, his fingers were stroking my strawberry blonde hair softly.

His breaths were warm against my pale skin but they were soon faltered by his words, "I want to see you."

I look up at him, confused, "What do you mean?"

He continues to stroke my hair gently in long, soothing strokes, not replying right away. He takes a breath, then, "Like... naked... no sex. No teasing. No boners. Just... I wanna see you naked."

He knows...

He knows how self-conscious I am, how much I hate how I look, how hard I'm trying to lose weight...

I mean, I am losing weight, I've lost quite a bit of weight and Gerard's been proud but... I still hate looking in the mirror after a shower or before a bath. I hate seeing how chubby my arms and stomach and thighs are. I don't like... this...

"W-Why...?" I ask.

"Just... to see you... I want to know what you're always hiding under all those clothes..." Gerard replies, "I'll show you myself."

I blush softly but I find myself nodding, despite my insecurities. I don't know why I'm agreeing to this but... I just am...

I crawl off of the couch, standing up and watching as Gerard stands up in front of me, a small smile on his lips, "You're beautiful, you know that?"

I nod softly, guilty for lying but I can't stop it.

"Really?"

"N-no..." I mumble.

He huffs but kisses my forehead, a protective gesture that says, "I'll always be here for you."

He traces his fingers down to the hem of my shirt, the black fabric twisting in his fingertips.

"Y-you first." I whisper, moving away slightly.

He sighs but complies, pulling up the bottom of his shirt and sliding it up, over his head. My eyes go wide at the sight of his chest, it's not super muscled but just enough to make him really attractive to me.

"Holy shit..." I whisper, just barely audible over the crackling fire. It's not intimate. I was sure it would be but this really isn't intimate at all, I'm guessing it might start to the farther we go...

"Now you," he replies, his fingers at the hem of my shirt again.

I lift my hands and let him pull my shirt up, over my chest.

As soon as the fabric is on the floor, I hug myself, the coldness of the room hitting my skin and Gerard's dark chestnut eyes on me, it just makes me self-conscious and I can't stop myself.

"Baby, please don't cover yourself," Gerard pleads, "You look beautiful, don't be self conscious because I love you," he nears me and takes my hands, "I love you just the way you are."

He rubs my palms with a light, slow pace in his thumbs while his eyes travel my figure, soaking in every little detail, "pants?"

I nod, letting my hands leave his and instead go to his crotch where I struggle to unbutton and unzip his skinny jeans.

"I-I'm um..." he laughs softly, "I hope you're okay with this... I mean..."

"It's fine," I reply with staccato, "I love you, I'm fine with this just... just a little self conscious."

I pull down his jeans, seeing his limp length through his underwear, "how fucking long are you?"

He blushes, "N-Never measured..."

I smirk and pull down his underwear. My cheeks go bright red at the sight, my breaths on his cock and holy shit. I don't know how long it is but it's gotta be at least seven inches... soft...

"I said nothing sexual," he mumbles.

"Sorry," I laugh, standing up again and letting him get to work on my jeans, unbuttoning first, then unzipping.

He pulls down my pants, deciding to kiss my thighs just because why not? And then pulling down my underwear with his teeth, "You're not half bad yourself,"

I blush as he stands back up, weaving his hands through my hair and his lips getting close to mine.

So close...

But so far...

He pulls away, kissing my cheek instead and deeming it an inappropriate time for a first kiss.

I deem it appropriate.

I lean my lips forward and hesitate for just a split second, his eyes looking right into mine, mine into his.

I kiss him.

His lips taste like mint. Like... peppermint... or maybe spearmint... something refreshing and tasty. They move against mine slowly, softly, gently, like if they go any harder, I'll shatter into a million pieces of glass onto the floor.

I weave my fingers in his hair and let him pull me down on the couch, still kissing me.

I'm the one to break the kiss, straddling him awkwardly, still limp, thank god. If I wasn't, I'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble than I bargained for.

We're both panting softly from the kissing, he's giggling and it takes a moment for me to join him, eventually resting my head on his shaky chest with my own at his ribs as we laugh together at nothing. I don't understand how love can do that to you, give you a natural high and make you feel so funny inside but I fucking love it. I'm addicted to it just like any other drug and the feeling his skin pressed against mine... it's giving me the best high I've ever had, better than anything pot would ever give me.

He pulls a blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over our cold, naked bodies and I feel safe. I feel so safe like nothing could hurt us. As long as I'm here kissing my forehead one last time, "I love you, Baby Boy..."

"I love you, too, Gee..."