¡Asylum!
Author: bj_unoxx
Pairing: Tré/Billie
Rating: NC17
AN: Prompted by equinescientist who requested Trillie.
He was expecting the knock on the door, it had been the same the last time this had happened. First was the phone call, the emotionless voice delivering the news so unlike his usually vibrant drummer. Second was the offer, Billie always offered, he hated to see any of his friends down and felt a compulsion to protect them, shelter them, when they were vulnerable. Then came the knock, Billie Joe opened the door a second later, taking hold of Tré’s hand to pull him into the house. How many times had they been in this situation? Two ex-wives and countless girlfriends in between. They all seemed to hit Tré hard, though some were understandably worse than others.
“Tell me what you need, Tré. I want to help.”
Wide blue eyes looked at him as his drummer chewed on his lip, thinking. “I don’t want to think for myself… I don’t want to feel.” The younger man looked at his feet and Billie felt his heart sink. He hated seeing his friend this way, it was heartbreaking; thankfully he knew exactly what Tré needed, the same asylum he always did.
Stroking his drummer’s cheek gently, he kissed him, “I can do that.” Slipping his hand to grip his friend’s wrist, he tugged him towards the spare downstairs bedroom. “Come with me.”
That would be the last tender gesture for a while; from then on he was in his Dom mode, the only mode Tré wanted when he was in his current state. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” Closing the door, he turned the lock, grateful that he was alone in the house when Tré had called. The boys were out at friends’ places and 80 was at the store, they had a few hours for therapy before he’d have to turn into a Dad again and collect his cubs. Turning back, a smirk came to his face as he saw Tré was ready and waiting on the bed.
“So obedient.” Stalking over to the drummer, he threaded his fingers into the back of soft highlighted hair and pulled back, tilting Tré’s face up to look at him. “You can touch when I say you can, understand?”
Tré nodded, but didn’t speak, which earned him an approving smile from the raven haired singer. “I like to hear you scream my name though, baby. So make sure you’re vocal.”
Again Tré nodded, a tiny smile pulling at his mouth, “I will.”
Billie Joe had to stop himself from melting when he saw that smile. Sometimes he found it difficult to play the part, despite being a bit of a control freak out of the bedroom when it came to certain things. But this was about Tré, not about him and what he wanted. “Now help me get out of these clothes.”
The commanding tone was back and he looked expectantly at the younger musician. He didn’t have to wait long before his drummer shuffled forward on the bed and carefully started to push the ragged monochrome striped sweater up his chest, sliding fingertips slightly against skin. Catching Tré’s hand, Billie gave it a tiny squeeze in warning. “Not too much skin on skin contact just yet remember.”
Tré nodded again, pulling his lower lip under his teeth to chew on it. Kneeling up on the bed, the red head tugged at the sweater and Billie lifted his arms to help slip the garment off. The drummer was hard already, just the sight of Billie Joe’s slender inked torso and the look in those green eyes doing a lot to turn him on. The tone of Bill’s voice when straight to his crotch and the thought of being dominated by the older man was just delicious. It was exactly what he needed.
A hand on his neck made him pause, fingertips brushing the cool metal of the singer’s belt buckle. Tilting his head up he let out a low moan as Billie kissed him hard, tongue demanding entrance, which Tré gave willingly. He could feel his body reacting even more to the touch and he shifted uncomfortably. “Mmm Bill.”
Billie nipped at his drummer’s lower lip, pressing his teeth into the soft flesh. “That’s my name.” His fingers tightened on Tré’s neck, “carry on Tréby. I’m still half dressed.” He knew he was teasing, but he didn’t care, by the end of their foreplay they’d both need release. Though it was up to Billie Joe whether Tré would get his or not. Feeling hands sliding down his thighs, Billie’s attention snapped back to reality and he caught hold of the younger man’s wrists. “Ah-ah, what did I say?”
His eyes flashed slightly a hidden wildness in them as he considered the guilty look on his drummer’s face. Tré had done that on purpose, Bill could tell, just to push the boundaries, find out what they were. Stepping back, he pulled the leather belt from his jeans and threw them aside. “Give me your wrists.” As soon as Tré obeyed, Billie coiled the supple leather around his wrists, pulling it tight in a loop and feeding the tail through to make a knot. Tugging on the belt, he stepped up onto the bed and walked to the head, watching as his drummer scrambled to follow.
“On your back,” he barely waited a beat before fixing the belt to the metal bar of the bed frame, using the buckle to keep it short. “There now, no more touching for you.” Looking down at Tré, he smiled wide as he saw the expression in his playmate’s eyes. Nothing was sexier to him than seeing the want and unashamed lust in those big blues. Tilting his head, he considered his next move, still standing over his drummer, giving him no contact at all.
Slowly an idea formed in his mind and he moved to straddle Tré’s waist, staying up on his knees so there was still no contact. “Y’know it’s not often I have you like this, so obedient, kinda helpless.” He trailed a hand up his drummer’s body, smirking as the younger man arched into the touch, teeth biting into his lower lip as a gorgeous moan slipped from his throat. B could tell by each reaction that he could have his friend wound tight enough to blow with just a few touches.
“Don’t you dare cum until I’m ready to.” Again his eyes flashed dark for a second, challenging Tré to disobey.
“I won’t, Master.” It was Tré’s turn to smirk as Billie Joe moaned softly in appreciation of the title and when his master’s lips crashed into his with a fierce, demanding kiss, he knew exactly how riled up Bill already was. This was just what he wanted, needed and if he was honest with himself, craved. After all Billie Joe had been on the scene far longer than any woman he’d known.
“Fuck…” His arms strained as he tried to press closer to Billie; the singer’s taut body hovered an inch above his, just out of reach. ‘B… please…. Touch me…” Fingertips roughened by years of guitar strings trailed feather light against his neck, making him tremble slightly. It was maddening how well Billie Joe knew his body and all the places that made him squirm. Blunt nails scraped over his collarbone, dragging a low groan from him in their wake. “Mmm, Bill.”
Billie couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him as Tré reacted, feeling the drummer straining for more contact. Leaning hard on his right hand, he let his teasing left drift down his own body, making sure the younger man was watching before stroking himself a couple of times, almost purring with pleasure. “You want me to touch you like this?” Another slow stroke, followed by a slight squeeze, “hmm?”
Tré’s eyes gave away his answer and Billie arched an eyebrow, pausing his motions until his playmate vocalised a reply. The breathless yes was all he needed, before palming the younger man for a second or two. The whimpers coming from his drummer almost had a musical quality and in the back of his mind he thought about recording them to layer underneath their Hot Tubs track ‘Fuck Time’.
A particularly eager twitch of Tré’s hips had him snatching his hand back and he tutted, giving his drummer a stern look. “No getting yourself off. You take what I give and nothing more, understand?” He leaned down to give a sharp nip to the nipple that used to be pierced; eliciting a quick yelp from the younger man, along with another breathless yes. The singer smiled again at the sound and allowed himself a couple more strokes before turning his attention to Tré’s body once more.
Taking his friend in hand, his thumb slid over the tip, already slick with pre-cum from Billie’s earlier attention. Almost without thinking, the front man lifted his hand to his mouth, licking his thumb clean, a pleasured purr slipping from his lips. Tré always had tasted fucking good to him. But now wasn’t the time for that. Instead he reached for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle from the drawer and uncapping it. Sitting back on his heels, he adjusted Tré to how he wanted him, shoving one of the pillows under his hips and spreading his legs a little wider so he could see his goal.
“Y’know I should make you do this yourself, but seeing as you’re so damned disobedient I guess it’s up to me.” He glanced up at his drummer, noting the slight widening of blue eyes. He barely gave his friend a moment to process the statement before pushing his index finger into that tight ring of muscle. Feeling Tré constrict around his invasion, Billie gave him a courtesy pause before adding a second, then third, burying them to the knuckles, stretching his drummer to willingness.
Billie’s prep had always been short and painfully sweet, Tré squirmed under his attention, body tightening and relaxing thanks to those strong little fingers. There was a lot to be said for fucking guitarists; and even though Bill was right handed, he always prepped with his left. The chord hand. “Fuck!” Probing fingers had found the place that made his world white out and he squirmed down onto them, trying to bury them there. “Oh fuck, Billie Joe, please.”
Tré’s pleading made the knot tighten in the pit of his stomach and he pulled his fingers free; another reach into the drawer produced a small foil packet which he tore open with his teeth. Slipping the condom on, he slicked himself up, moaning with the friction, glancing at Tré when he was done, he gave a little crooked smile. “Well, I don’t wanna make a huge wet spot for you to sleep in do I?”
The drummer smirked a little, the previous question gone from his eyes as he replied. “So considerate, you sure you’re not thinking about the laundry?” The word had barely died on his lips when Billie thrust into him. “NnnFuck!”
What the singer lacked in size he made up for in force and the angle he’d picked sent him true, hitting the spot that drove Tré wild. One hand gripped the younger man’s hip, lifting him closer, “Fuckin’ shit, missed you.” The words didn’t quite fit the dominant role he was playing, but right then he didn’t give a fuck. Burying his head against Tré’s shoulder, he bit down on tan skin, stifling his moans so he could hear his friend’s.
Billie Joe’s aggression in bed had always turned him on. It wasn’t often that the singer let himself go this way, he usually preferred to be on the receiving end; not that the drummer could blame him. The feeling of being completely taken was amazing. Moaning louder as Billie Joe pressed against him, his fingers clawed at the air when his aching cock was caught between their slick bodies. “Fuck, Billie, missed you too.”
It had been an age since they’d last played together. While Bill was lucky enough to have a wife that let him play a little -so long as it wasn’t another woman; Dena had always been jealous of everyone that looked at him. Mike, Billie and Jase included. “She didn-“
“No!” Green eyes flashed with fury and Billie’s hips flicked faster, he was supposed to be wiping Tré’s memory of that bitch, not letting him brood. Glancing down he saw that hated name on his man’s chest and his lip drew back in a half snarl. Uneven teeth nipped at the D and he sucked hard, drawing blood to blossom beneath the surface as capillaries ruptured. It would bruise to a dark purple, but that still wasn’t enough. He wanted to obliterate the twat's name for all the hurt she caused.
Tré’s moaning got louder and less coherent with each thrust of Billie’s hips, the roughness taking his breath away. Billie was riled up, for sure and as the drummer felt teeth against his skin, his whole body reacted. Straining against the belt, he felt shots of pain in his shoulders, but he didn’t care, he just needed to be closer to his singer. “Fuck, Billie Joe…” He knew his lover when he got like this, the musician was primal, only one thing seemed to matter; getting them both off. But mixed in there was a rage and he knew the warning signs.
As teeth cut deeper, Tré -despite feeling closer to orgasm than ever- felt a flare of panic. He didn’t need bite marks to hide from everyone and he sure as hell knew Billie would regret them as soon as he came out of his post sex high. “Billie..” He squirmed, trying to get his lover’s attention, but B finding his spot over and over was a huge distraction. “BILLIE!” The name came out almost as a scream, when an acute pain registered higher on the usual playful spectrum. Looking down he saw blood pooling against Billie’s lips. “Oh fuckin… Bill… Billie…”
One word came to mind and he said it as clearly as he could, pushing down the pain, pleasure and panic. “Warehouse.”
Hearing the safe word was like a slap to the face and Billie froze. Lifting his head, he stared down at Tré, eyes wide in apology. What had he done? It took a moment for him to notice the blood welling in the bites he'd taken and nausea rushed over him when he did. "Frankie, I'm so sorry. I just... I was angry... God..." He felt his stomach churn, disgusted at himself for inflicting such damage on his lover. Sure they played rough, that was why they had the safe word, but blood play was always a kink they'd avoided. At least in the past.
He was still inside Tré and it suddenly dawned on him that he should probably just quit now, there was no way his friend would want to carry on. But as he shifted himself, pulling back, his drummer's whimper made him pause for the second time in just a few moments. "Tré?"
"Don't, just... I don't care... I don't wanna stop." Again the younger man tugged at his wrists, he figured the BDSM was over for now, but he still needed this escape, this release. He still needed his Billie Joe. His asylum. "It's you Billie, just you I need, please."
Tré’s eyes didn’t leave Billie’s, hoping that his friend would realise the truth in them, he would fall apart for sure if this was taken from him and he didn’t want to fall into that dark hole, not again. “Billie Joe?”
Reaching up, the dark haired singer carefully untied his drummer’s wrists, tossing the belt onto the floor. He gently massaged each of Tré’s shoulders in turn, leaning down to kiss the younger man carefully. “I’m sorry,” he rocked his hips again, a slow roll, taking his time but pressing deep and his friend’s pleasured sigh was just as sweet as his earlier moans.
The kiss tasted of blood and from nowhere Tré felt a bubble of laughter escape him, “my tiny Vampire.” The tone was teasing and his newly freed arms wrapped around the smaller man, pulling him closer, just as he had wanted from the start. His hips moved with his lover’s as the pace quickened and his fingers lifted to tangle in that impossibly soft hair.
“Billie..” He spoke the name softly, lips close to his friend’s ear, “I’m-“
“I know,” Billie’s eyes were half closed, lost in the feeling creeping up on him, “you’re allowed.”
Those words were almost like magic, and Tré let himself go as soon as he heard them, body constricting with each wave. Billie Joe called his name in a soft cry when he came moments later and the drummer pulled his friend against his chest. They would lay like this for as long as possible before the outside world would inevitably reach them.
“Thank you.”
A finger to his lips hushed him and Billie Joe just smiled. “Get some rest. I’ll be here, Frankie, always will.”
Pairing: Tré/Billie
Rating: NC17
AN: Prompted by equinescientist who requested Trillie.
He was expecting the knock on the door, it had been the same the last time this had happened. First was the phone call, the emotionless voice delivering the news so unlike his usually vibrant drummer. Second was the offer, Billie always offered, he hated to see any of his friends down and felt a compulsion to protect them, shelter them, when they were vulnerable. Then came the knock, Billie Joe opened the door a second later, taking hold of Tré’s hand to pull him into the house. How many times had they been in this situation? Two ex-wives and countless girlfriends in between. They all seemed to hit Tré hard, though some were understandably worse than others.
“Tell me what you need, Tré. I want to help.”
Wide blue eyes looked at him as his drummer chewed on his lip, thinking. “I don’t want to think for myself… I don’t want to feel.” The younger man looked at his feet and Billie felt his heart sink. He hated seeing his friend this way, it was heartbreaking; thankfully he knew exactly what Tré needed, the same asylum he always did.
Stroking his drummer’s cheek gently, he kissed him, “I can do that.” Slipping his hand to grip his friend’s wrist, he tugged him towards the spare downstairs bedroom. “Come with me.”
That would be the last tender gesture for a while; from then on he was in his Dom mode, the only mode Tré wanted when he was in his current state. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” Closing the door, he turned the lock, grateful that he was alone in the house when Tré had called. The boys were out at friends’ places and 80 was at the store, they had a few hours for therapy before he’d have to turn into a Dad again and collect his cubs. Turning back, a smirk came to his face as he saw Tré was ready and waiting on the bed.
“So obedient.” Stalking over to the drummer, he threaded his fingers into the back of soft highlighted hair and pulled back, tilting Tré’s face up to look at him. “You can touch when I say you can, understand?”
Tré nodded, but didn’t speak, which earned him an approving smile from the raven haired singer. “I like to hear you scream my name though, baby. So make sure you’re vocal.”
Again Tré nodded, a tiny smile pulling at his mouth, “I will.”
Billie Joe had to stop himself from melting when he saw that smile. Sometimes he found it difficult to play the part, despite being a bit of a control freak out of the bedroom when it came to certain things. But this was about Tré, not about him and what he wanted. “Now help me get out of these clothes.”
The commanding tone was back and he looked expectantly at the younger musician. He didn’t have to wait long before his drummer shuffled forward on the bed and carefully started to push the ragged monochrome striped sweater up his chest, sliding fingertips slightly against skin. Catching Tré’s hand, Billie gave it a tiny squeeze in warning. “Not too much skin on skin contact just yet remember.”
Tré nodded again, pulling his lower lip under his teeth to chew on it. Kneeling up on the bed, the red head tugged at the sweater and Billie lifted his arms to help slip the garment off. The drummer was hard already, just the sight of Billie Joe’s slender inked torso and the look in those green eyes doing a lot to turn him on. The tone of Bill’s voice when straight to his crotch and the thought of being dominated by the older man was just delicious. It was exactly what he needed.
A hand on his neck made him pause, fingertips brushing the cool metal of the singer’s belt buckle. Tilting his head up he let out a low moan as Billie kissed him hard, tongue demanding entrance, which Tré gave willingly. He could feel his body reacting even more to the touch and he shifted uncomfortably. “Mmm Bill.”
Billie nipped at his drummer’s lower lip, pressing his teeth into the soft flesh. “That’s my name.” His fingers tightened on Tré’s neck, “carry on Tréby. I’m still half dressed.” He knew he was teasing, but he didn’t care, by the end of their foreplay they’d both need release. Though it was up to Billie Joe whether Tré would get his or not. Feeling hands sliding down his thighs, Billie’s attention snapped back to reality and he caught hold of the younger man’s wrists. “Ah-ah, what did I say?”
His eyes flashed slightly a hidden wildness in them as he considered the guilty look on his drummer’s face. Tré had done that on purpose, Bill could tell, just to push the boundaries, find out what they were. Stepping back, he pulled the leather belt from his jeans and threw them aside. “Give me your wrists.” As soon as Tré obeyed, Billie coiled the supple leather around his wrists, pulling it tight in a loop and feeding the tail through to make a knot. Tugging on the belt, he stepped up onto the bed and walked to the head, watching as his drummer scrambled to follow.
“On your back,” he barely waited a beat before fixing the belt to the metal bar of the bed frame, using the buckle to keep it short. “There now, no more touching for you.” Looking down at Tré, he smiled wide as he saw the expression in his playmate’s eyes. Nothing was sexier to him than seeing the want and unashamed lust in those big blues. Tilting his head, he considered his next move, still standing over his drummer, giving him no contact at all.
Slowly an idea formed in his mind and he moved to straddle Tré’s waist, staying up on his knees so there was still no contact. “Y’know it’s not often I have you like this, so obedient, kinda helpless.” He trailed a hand up his drummer’s body, smirking as the younger man arched into the touch, teeth biting into his lower lip as a gorgeous moan slipped from his throat. B could tell by each reaction that he could have his friend wound tight enough to blow with just a few touches.
“Don’t you dare cum until I’m ready to.” Again his eyes flashed dark for a second, challenging Tré to disobey.
“I won’t, Master.” It was Tré’s turn to smirk as Billie Joe moaned softly in appreciation of the title and when his master’s lips crashed into his with a fierce, demanding kiss, he knew exactly how riled up Bill already was. This was just what he wanted, needed and if he was honest with himself, craved. After all Billie Joe had been on the scene far longer than any woman he’d known.
“Fuck…” His arms strained as he tried to press closer to Billie; the singer’s taut body hovered an inch above his, just out of reach. ‘B… please…. Touch me…” Fingertips roughened by years of guitar strings trailed feather light against his neck, making him tremble slightly. It was maddening how well Billie Joe knew his body and all the places that made him squirm. Blunt nails scraped over his collarbone, dragging a low groan from him in their wake. “Mmm, Bill.”
Billie couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him as Tré reacted, feeling the drummer straining for more contact. Leaning hard on his right hand, he let his teasing left drift down his own body, making sure the younger man was watching before stroking himself a couple of times, almost purring with pleasure. “You want me to touch you like this?” Another slow stroke, followed by a slight squeeze, “hmm?”
Tré’s eyes gave away his answer and Billie arched an eyebrow, pausing his motions until his playmate vocalised a reply. The breathless yes was all he needed, before palming the younger man for a second or two. The whimpers coming from his drummer almost had a musical quality and in the back of his mind he thought about recording them to layer underneath their Hot Tubs track ‘Fuck Time’.
A particularly eager twitch of Tré’s hips had him snatching his hand back and he tutted, giving his drummer a stern look. “No getting yourself off. You take what I give and nothing more, understand?” He leaned down to give a sharp nip to the nipple that used to be pierced; eliciting a quick yelp from the younger man, along with another breathless yes. The singer smiled again at the sound and allowed himself a couple more strokes before turning his attention to Tré’s body once more.
Taking his friend in hand, his thumb slid over the tip, already slick with pre-cum from Billie’s earlier attention. Almost without thinking, the front man lifted his hand to his mouth, licking his thumb clean, a pleasured purr slipping from his lips. Tré always had tasted fucking good to him. But now wasn’t the time for that. Instead he reached for the nightstand, grabbing a bottle from the drawer and uncapping it. Sitting back on his heels, he adjusted Tré to how he wanted him, shoving one of the pillows under his hips and spreading his legs a little wider so he could see his goal.
“Y’know I should make you do this yourself, but seeing as you’re so damned disobedient I guess it’s up to me.” He glanced up at his drummer, noting the slight widening of blue eyes. He barely gave his friend a moment to process the statement before pushing his index finger into that tight ring of muscle. Feeling Tré constrict around his invasion, Billie gave him a courtesy pause before adding a second, then third, burying them to the knuckles, stretching his drummer to willingness.
Billie’s prep had always been short and painfully sweet, Tré squirmed under his attention, body tightening and relaxing thanks to those strong little fingers. There was a lot to be said for fucking guitarists; and even though Bill was right handed, he always prepped with his left. The chord hand. “Fuck!” Probing fingers had found the place that made his world white out and he squirmed down onto them, trying to bury them there. “Oh fuck, Billie Joe, please.”
Tré’s pleading made the knot tighten in the pit of his stomach and he pulled his fingers free; another reach into the drawer produced a small foil packet which he tore open with his teeth. Slipping the condom on, he slicked himself up, moaning with the friction, glancing at Tré when he was done, he gave a little crooked smile. “Well, I don’t wanna make a huge wet spot for you to sleep in do I?”
The drummer smirked a little, the previous question gone from his eyes as he replied. “So considerate, you sure you’re not thinking about the laundry?” The word had barely died on his lips when Billie thrust into him. “NnnFuck!”
What the singer lacked in size he made up for in force and the angle he’d picked sent him true, hitting the spot that drove Tré wild. One hand gripped the younger man’s hip, lifting him closer, “Fuckin’ shit, missed you.” The words didn’t quite fit the dominant role he was playing, but right then he didn’t give a fuck. Burying his head against Tré’s shoulder, he bit down on tan skin, stifling his moans so he could hear his friend’s.
Billie Joe’s aggression in bed had always turned him on. It wasn’t often that the singer let himself go this way, he usually preferred to be on the receiving end; not that the drummer could blame him. The feeling of being completely taken was amazing. Moaning louder as Billie Joe pressed against him, his fingers clawed at the air when his aching cock was caught between their slick bodies. “Fuck, Billie, missed you too.”
It had been an age since they’d last played together. While Bill was lucky enough to have a wife that let him play a little -so long as it wasn’t another woman; Dena had always been jealous of everyone that looked at him. Mike, Billie and Jase included. “She didn-“
“No!” Green eyes flashed with fury and Billie’s hips flicked faster, he was supposed to be wiping Tré’s memory of that bitch, not letting him brood. Glancing down he saw that hated name on his man’s chest and his lip drew back in a half snarl. Uneven teeth nipped at the D and he sucked hard, drawing blood to blossom beneath the surface as capillaries ruptured. It would bruise to a dark purple, but that still wasn’t enough. He wanted to obliterate the twat's name for all the hurt she caused.
Tré’s moaning got louder and less coherent with each thrust of Billie’s hips, the roughness taking his breath away. Billie was riled up, for sure and as the drummer felt teeth against his skin, his whole body reacted. Straining against the belt, he felt shots of pain in his shoulders, but he didn’t care, he just needed to be closer to his singer. “Fuck, Billie Joe…” He knew his lover when he got like this, the musician was primal, only one thing seemed to matter; getting them both off. But mixed in there was a rage and he knew the warning signs.
As teeth cut deeper, Tré -despite feeling closer to orgasm than ever- felt a flare of panic. He didn’t need bite marks to hide from everyone and he sure as hell knew Billie would regret them as soon as he came out of his post sex high. “Billie..” He squirmed, trying to get his lover’s attention, but B finding his spot over and over was a huge distraction. “BILLIE!” The name came out almost as a scream, when an acute pain registered higher on the usual playful spectrum. Looking down he saw blood pooling against Billie’s lips. “Oh fuckin… Bill… Billie…”
One word came to mind and he said it as clearly as he could, pushing down the pain, pleasure and panic. “Warehouse.”
Hearing the safe word was like a slap to the face and Billie froze. Lifting his head, he stared down at Tré, eyes wide in apology. What had he done? It took a moment for him to notice the blood welling in the bites he'd taken and nausea rushed over him when he did. "Frankie, I'm so sorry. I just... I was angry... God..." He felt his stomach churn, disgusted at himself for inflicting such damage on his lover. Sure they played rough, that was why they had the safe word, but blood play was always a kink they'd avoided. At least in the past.
He was still inside Tré and it suddenly dawned on him that he should probably just quit now, there was no way his friend would want to carry on. But as he shifted himself, pulling back, his drummer's whimper made him pause for the second time in just a few moments. "Tré?"
"Don't, just... I don't care... I don't wanna stop." Again the younger man tugged at his wrists, he figured the BDSM was over for now, but he still needed this escape, this release. He still needed his Billie Joe. His asylum. "It's you Billie, just you I need, please."
Tré’s eyes didn’t leave Billie’s, hoping that his friend would realise the truth in them, he would fall apart for sure if this was taken from him and he didn’t want to fall into that dark hole, not again. “Billie Joe?”
Reaching up, the dark haired singer carefully untied his drummer’s wrists, tossing the belt onto the floor. He gently massaged each of Tré’s shoulders in turn, leaning down to kiss the younger man carefully. “I’m sorry,” he rocked his hips again, a slow roll, taking his time but pressing deep and his friend’s pleasured sigh was just as sweet as his earlier moans.
The kiss tasted of blood and from nowhere Tré felt a bubble of laughter escape him, “my tiny Vampire.” The tone was teasing and his newly freed arms wrapped around the smaller man, pulling him closer, just as he had wanted from the start. His hips moved with his lover’s as the pace quickened and his fingers lifted to tangle in that impossibly soft hair.
“Billie..” He spoke the name softly, lips close to his friend’s ear, “I’m-“
“I know,” Billie’s eyes were half closed, lost in the feeling creeping up on him, “you’re allowed.”
Those words were almost like magic, and Tré let himself go as soon as he heard them, body constricting with each wave. Billie Joe called his name in a soft cry when he came moments later and the drummer pulled his friend against his chest. They would lay like this for as long as possible before the outside world would inevitably reach them.
“Thank you.”
A finger to his lips hushed him and Billie Joe just smiled. “Get some rest. I’ll be here, Frankie, always will.”