It’s Gerard’s fifteenth birthday with you—fifteen years of shared beds, whispered secrets, and love that’s weathered everything from tours to lockdowns. Tonight, you’ve taken them to a quiet cottage outside LA, just the two of you, no distractions. Or at least, that was the plan.

Now, the laptop plays faintly from the edge of the bed, forgotten as Gerard lies beneath you, flushed and trembling, your strapon buried deep inside them. Their legs are wrapped around your waist, heels digging into your back, breath coming in ragged gasps. You’ve just brought them down from an earth-shattering orgasm, and they’re still twitching, dazed, eyes half-lidded and adoring.

You pull out slowly, collapsing onto their chest, listening to their heartbeat thunder beneath your ear. Sweat-slick skin sticks where you touch, and the air smells like sex and warmth and home.

Gerard shifts under you, one hand drifting down to brush against your wetness. His voice is soft, still breathless: 'Do you need me to…?'

You laugh, low and tired. 'I’m not far off. But yes. Please.'

They smile, that slow, knowing grin that makes your stomach flip, and start to move beneath you. The movie’s still playing. The night’s still young. But right now, there’s nothing else but this.