Obedience - part Ate
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mmmmike
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day. Dammit.
Part eight of fuck knows. You asked nicely, and it is nearly Valentines
Goes hand in handcuffs with
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Our date night was fucking awesome.
Despite us being late, Angelo had saved our usual table, in a quiet corner upstairs where there was not much passing traffic, and we could eat in relative peace and quiet. As he was expecting us, he had even prepared my favourite toasted mushroom ravioli. Billie went for a seafood risotto, and in true Lady and the Tramp style, we shared a bowl of shredded salad, then fought over the last piece of warm, crusty bread to dip in the super-garlicky pesto that is one of Angelo’s specialities. If my weakness is caffeine, Billie’s has to be garlic. That does sort of evens us out, I suppose. He redeemed himself by ordering a plate of strawberries and pineapple for dessert, but he ended up feeding most of it to me, despite the fact that I had only had a modest three cups of coffee all day.
We were waiting for our food to arrive when Angelo took a break from cooking duties to catch up with us, and when he found out the significance of the day, he insisted on giving us champagne, AFTER we’d ordered and part-consumed a bottle of wine. By the time we got to dessert, we were very giggly. Not drunk, you understand, because we are rock gods, after all, and used to being drowned in alcohol, but just relaxed enough to really enjoy ourselves without pissing off every other diner. We’d easily slept and worked off the champagne from that morning, and the food was stopping this bottle going to our heads like Frankie’s gift had, but I was feeling slightly detached from reality by the time the check came, despite us leaving at least half of the wine untouched.
The street felt cool compared to the warmth of the restaurant, with a light ocean-scented breeze, which enhanced the effects of the alcohol. It must have been a game night, because the roads were crammed with cars, back-logged at every traffic light as far as we could see, and it took a while for our driver to escape from the parking lot a couple of blocks away after I called him. We stood, hand in hand on the sidewalk, sharing a cigarette like we used to do when a pack had to last us a week, and occasionally grinning at each other like the morons that we are. The tree we stood under shaded us from the light of the street-lamps and buildings, and nobody gave us as much as a second glance as we shared a kiss that tasted very much like everything we’d put in our mouths since leaving home nearly three hours ago. Eventually, our limo pulled in to the kerb, and Billie opened the door to let me in first.
“Hey, Rich. Traffic fucked, huh?”
We use this driver all the time - discreet, efficient and friendly. I couldn’t hear his answer, nor what Billie had said to him next, but when he clambered into the closed-off passenger compartment with me, he looked very, very smug.
We were at the first set of red lights when Billie slid from his seat and knelt between my feet.
******
From the restaurant to home is probably six miles, not much more. On a good day, on a bike, it’s ten minutes - although getting here had taken the best part of thirty. Tonight, the journey took over an hour, not just because of the number of cars on the roads, but because Rich seemed to be making a diversion by way of L.A. So many times I saw a familiar landmark blur past, only for the car to turn the wrong direction. I felt like I was in a dream, slouched back in my seat as we cruised the streets of our city, on the verge of getting blown in the back of a car for the first time in twenty years - and by the same person. The blacked-out windows gave us privacy, dulling the brightest lights, blocking out the fainter ones, and there were bursts of speed as we crossed junctions, followed by long periods of inertia at each red light we hit, all adding to the feeling of confusion.
Billie had managed to get my pants and underwear all the way to my knees, so I was sitting on cold leather, a stark contrast to the heat of his mouth as it closed around me. His hands were cool, too, clasped as they were around my thighs, and I covered them with my own. He hummed his thanks, and started to demolish the erection that I had developed so very recently.
Demolition didn't take long, either. It had been a while since our last orgasms, and our libidos had been reset to the ‘anything could set me off’ stage, like Billie is when he first wakes up with morning glory (we must find another description for that, because, you know, Glory). He was no way trying to draw this out like he usually does, but I guessed why. He was squirming, rolling that cute little ass of his from side to side, and I figured that he wanted - and needed - the same treatment from me before we reached home, which would possibly be some time in the next week, judging by the route Rich was taking us. Billie was working his tongue like a demon, taking me real deep as the car braked a little harder than we expected, and I came, shrieking my husband’s name louder than I intended, although I was largely drowned out by the warning bells and klaxon of the train thundering by, less than ten feet in front the hood. Billie spluttered and coughed, and I grinned sort of sheepishly between gulping in air, patting the seat beside me.
“Up here, Angel. It’s your turn.”
*****
I’d got a good start on a second hard-on as we pulled up at the back of the house - I’d just had my face buried in Billie Joe’s crotch for ten minutes, so, yeah, I shouldn’t act surprised. We’d both managed to struggle back into our clothes, each checking the other for tell-tale stains, open zippers or mis-buttoned shirts before sliding out into the fresh air. There was no way Rich didn’t know what (or more accurately, who) had gone down in the back of his car - my pants were pulled out of shape by my growing erection, and the security light above the door seemed to be directed straight at my groin - but his face and words gave nothing away. I saw Billie fold a large wedge of bills into his hand, then the car headed back down the drive, and we were alone.
We didn’t even let the dogs in. It was a warm enough night for them to stay outside, and anyhow, they had shelter they could use if they needed it. It felt like we were teenagers again, but better. Back then, any sexual activity had to be when Mom was at work, to eliminate the risk of her walking in on us mid-blow job. We were paranoid about getting caught after she came into our room once when I was opening Billie up, three fingers buried inside him. We were under the bedcovers, thank fuck, but for months after, we could have fucked in church and no-one would have heard us. Getting our own place meant we could have noisy sex, a habit we had to change again when our babies arrived. But, tonight, the clock rolled back, and we ran to the bedroom, giggling loudly, hands clasped tight, and were probably naked and in bed before the gates to our place closed behind the departing car.
Billie was a mess. His curls were out of control and his beard was really starting to darken his chin, making it look like he needed to wash. We’d gotten ready in a hurry this evening, woken by Rich buzzing for us to let him in, because I had set the alarm for 6.00 a.m. by mistake. I blame the cute for distracting me. We’d managed the quickest shared shower in history, and pulled on the first clean clothes we found in our closets, no room for shaving in our rushed preparations. True, Angelo is an old friend and would have kept our table all night if necessary, but that would have been unfair to him. I realised that I must have looked pretty bad, too, and don’t even get me started on the issue of our breath. Even so, despite the cocktail of garlic, jizz, garlic, fish, garlic and tobacco, Billie kissed me and sounded like he was enjoying it. I checked out just how much, and the kiss got a little more heated. When we unglued our mouths, he seemed to be studying every inch of my face, his unruly eyebrows almost meeting in the middle as he frowned.
“What you looking at?”
“You. I wanna remember how you look tonight.”
I laughed, and licked his bottom lip. “Same as ever. Same broken nose, same boring blue eyes …”
“I love your bumpy nose, and these eyes …” He kissed my eyelids, hummed, and shuffled in closer, until it felt like our cocks were kissing, too. “I am the luckiest fuck in the universe.”
“You’re the easiest fuck in the universe.“
“Says you …”
“Okay, you got me there. D’ya wanna carry on trying the toys, Bill? We still got a box and a half to go.”
“Sounds like a plan, if you’re up for it.”
“Totally. You know what I’m up for? An all-nighter.” He moaned, and his eyes sparked with interest. I got him further interested with a small grope. “No kids, no reason to get up, and we slept for fucking hours this afternoon. We can do it.”
“There’s not much night left.”
“More than there was on our wedding night …”
He made another contented sound deep in his throat - in about the same place as my cock had been back in the car less than an hour before. “Okay. Mike …”
“Mmmm?” I was taking an interest in the bite on his neck, just to help him make the right decision.
“We gonna video us?”
“Hell, yeah.”
*****
It took a few minutes for me to set up the camera and find some blank discs, while Billie laid out some of Julie’s finest work on the bed. He had no idea I was already filming him weigh and measure the larger toys, his tongue stuck out and his eyes gleaming. He selected and rejected, until he was left with about a half dozen items, including the huge vibrator that we hadn’t got round to earlier. He realised I was watching him, and grinned and waved to the camera, before turning round and mooning at me. Huh, like I haven’t seen that before. I think half the fucking world has seen this view of him. I slapped his butt as I crawled back onto the bed and got a very satisfying yelp out of him, then, together, we examined what he had chosen to help us celebrate two years since we said “I do”.
There were six potential orgasms in the line-up, the smallest a ‘j’ shaped Super-O Intimate Male Massager, according to the paper label on the package. Billie seemed particularly interested in that one, his fingers straying back to it constantly as he talked me through the rest, and his reasons for choosing them, like a host on a shopping channel doing a piece to camera. He’d gone past giggly, and now was at the deadly serious stage of intoxication, and I controlled my urge to sweep the toys to the floor and give him a session of Super-Dirnt Intimate Male Massaging. He looked so fucking cute, with his wild curls and huge eyes, sitting cross legged with the toys laid out in a semi-circle in front of him. I let him finish explaining the speed and vibration settings on the one we called The Monster, then I lined them up on a spare pillow, with the exception of the massager. I grabbed a towel from the floor, almost dry after the shower that barely made us wet, and draped it over the bed. I had my eye on a bottle of almond oil, which would be harder to wash from silk sheets than the water-based lubes we usually use. I might have been horny as hell, but I can still be practical. He nodded his approval of my choice, we had another little kiss, and then I gestured for him to lie down.
Fuck knows why, but I had a lump in my throat - karma kicking my butt for nearly choking Billie back at the rail crossing, I guess. I felt a huge surge of emotion as he stretched out in front of me, love and greed and lust combining with the booze to make me a quivering wreck on the inside. My hand trembled more than usual when I stroked him from shoulder to thigh, and he must have felt it.
“Mikey?” He sounded breathy, five questions implied by the tone of his voice, and he placed his hand over my heart. That’s always his first concern, and I reassured him immediately.
“No, Billie, I’m fine, honest.”
He gave me a look that, ironically, made my heart thud extra hard. “You’d better be. You got a long night ahead of you.”
“Depends on how good Julie’s designs are.”
“That depends on how good you are at using them. Same rules as before?” Bless him, he spread his legs before I even asked him to. He really didn’t deserve to be tormented like earlier, and I made an instant decision.
“No. This time, you’re gonna come.”
He propped himself up on his elbows, but he looked more intrigued than horrified. “Fuck, Mike - six?”
I leaned down to see his reaction to my brainwave. “No, we’ll take turns. And I’ll take The Monster.”
His cock registered its approval before he answered.
“God, yeah. Absolutely. “