Obedience 15
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mmmmike
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day, but they are on my birthday list
Part fifteen of fuck knows. As many as it takes. Fluffy in parts, not so in others
Goes hand in handcuffs with
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We were both grinning stupidly by the time Frankie finally hung up. He sounded as happy as we were about seeing the little ones again, or maybe it was just the idea of pizza, but as soon as my phone was free, I started the search for flights from Oakland to LA. There were a few choices, and of course, I chose the earliest available, which meant we had to be up around six, then I called poor Rich to see if he could take us to the airport at such an ungodly hour on a weekend. He could, and that only left me with the hotel to book.
While I got on with that, Billie made a start on tidying up our room - the clothes, the boxes of toys, sorted into used and unused, crunchy Kleenex and the odd spillage that had gone unnoticed during our reversion to our days before parenthood. He packed away the camera, carefully putting the discs on the shelf that was so high, he had to drag a chair into the closet, and returned carrying the laptop and the regular camera. Good thinking - I could see us taking a lot of photographs during the course of the next two days. I’d just about finished talking to the booking clerk at Disney by the time the computer powered up, but he was now throwing stuff into an overnight bag whilst he waited for me to put the phone down. Honestly, he was as excited as Glory at Christmas, working fast on stuffing underwear, nightclothes and a fresh daytime shirt each into the bag. Airline liquid restrictions meant we would have to buy most of our bathroom shit when we got there, so his workload was pretty minimal - we were travelling light even if the kids weren’t, and it was only one night away from home, after all. Even so, I pretended to be engrossed in my phone long after I had finished all the arrangements because I fucking HATE packing and he looked kinda cute scurrying around our room naked, like some demented squirrel burying his nuts. He closed the bag’s zipper with a triumphant flourish, turned on the two bedside lights, then threw himself down beside me.
“You finished with that?”
“Yeah, all done. Rich is coming for us at seven, we’ll have to get a cab in LA.” I kissed his slightly flushed cheek, and lay next to him as he rolled onto his front and connected the phone to the computer. A few seconds and a couple of pass-codes later, the two machines started talking to each other, and we watched as a very mixed bag of images flashed across the screen. When the transfer was finished, I set the alarm for the morning and checked that my cell was Glory-friendly, whilst Billie made sure that we hadn’t lost anything we may want to look at again some time in the very near future.
Like now.
Zoomed in.
As I turned back from plugging the phone into the bedside charger, my hand skimmed over his super-smooth buttock, pale, and impossible for me to resist. He hummed softly, and gave me a shy sort of smile, then went back to looking at a very close close-up movie of me with my mouth around his dick. It was the last few seconds of the video, and as soon as the act had been all played out, he dragged the cursor to view those final moments again - twice, the second time in slow motion. At the risk of sounding conceited, it was fucking hot. Our home movies are so far removed from commercial porn, and a good deal more effective at getting us into the mood, not that Billie ever needs much encouragement. His libido has a hair trigger, meaning he can get horny as easily as flicking the light switches he’d just turned on. Even face down like this, it was easy to tell that he was aroused, and to be fair, my cock was reacting to the thrill I got from the merest touch of his butt. As the video ended for the third time he powered off, the laptop lid closed with a firm click, and he rolled onto his side to reveal himself in all of his swollen glory.
Glory. Even used in this context, the word makes me think of our gorgeous girl, and I smiled, even before our eyes met.
“What ya thinking of, Mikey?”
“Babies. Hugs. Giggles.”
“Tomorrow, what, eighteen hours?”
I loved the fact that, like me, he was counting down. “About that. Can’t wait to see their faces.”
“Yeah, Mom’s too.” He gave me his trademark lop-sided grin. “And yours, you big kid. Mike …..”
“Yeah?”
“We gonna eat tonight? I mean we only had coffee this morning, and a sandwich after surfing and you know what the fresh air does to me. I’m kinda hungry.”
I hadn’t given a minute’s thought to food. When the kids are here, mealtimes are sacred, keeping them in a routine as much as possible, but on days like this, when they aren’t around, we eat when our bellies start growling - as his was now.
“I could throw something together, I guess. Now, or ….. after?”
He followed my eyes, giggled in exactly the same way as Glory does, and tucked his boner between his legs. “Now. Starving.”
Our kitchen stocks were not in a good state. We normally order fresh stuff a couple of times a week, but for the past few days, we had far more delicious things than food on our minds. I found a few edible vegetables in the crisper drawer, and Billie retrieved a pack of dried noodles from the back of the larder, so stir fry it was - quick, filling and tasty, if a little less than cordon bleu. It took under a half hour to prepare, ending up with us eating from the pan it was cooked in, sitting at the kitchen counter, both butt naked. We had a couple of Lady and the Tramp moments, with us finding the opposite ends of the same noodle, and our inelegant meal became little more than a fight to see who could finish first, interspersed with talk about the delights that the next day had in store for us. As soon as his fork clattered into the empty pan, Billie was on his feet, headed for the stairs, ass wiggling almost as much as his eyebrows.
“I’ll be right up. Don’t start without me.”
I threw the pan into the dishwasher with the other cooking stuff, let the dogs out for a much-needed pee, and grabbed a couple of things from the refrigerator - sodas, and some other things that caught my attention. As soon as I could secure the door, I mounted the stairs two at a time to join lover-boy in the bedroom.
Our room smelled sweet thanks to the bouquet, and it felt cool, but I noticed that he’d shut the door to the balcony, and put the laptop away, out of reach of inquisitive fingers, along with the boxes of toys that were certainly not child-friendly. It was a few seconds before I looked at Billie himself, but when I did, I burst out laughing. He was lying on the bed, propped up by a heap of pillows, and with a corner of the sheet draped over what was a pretty obvious erection, but what killed me was the fact that he had a rose clenched between his teeth, and he’d got the Mickey Mouse ears perched on top of his thick curls. I threw my armful of goodies onto the bed and clambered up to him, and removed the rose to kiss the stupid grin off his face.
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, that’s where the rose was going at first, but I had a better idea.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” I adjusted the ears, because our kiss had left them nearly falling off, which made him look even more stupid. “You’re fucking ridiculous, Billie.”
“That’s me, putting the dick into ridiculous since 1972.”
“Where’d you find them?” I’d looked for them recently, prompted by Mom’s offer to take the kids away for a few days.
“In your closet, on the shelf with the laptop. Under the nurse outfit Frankie bought you when I was pregnant with Glory …”
I groaned loudly. That outfit had had a lot of use and abuse over the past four and a bit years, and the memories made my cock throb against Billie’s leg. The mound under the dark silk got a little grope as I kissed him, but something didn’t feel quite right. I lifted the sheet and discovered that he’d tied the paper ribbon from the flowers around himself, and that just started me back laughing. He really is an idiot. He sat, staring at me with shining eyes, smiling like the fucking Cheshire Cat we were destined to see tomorrow. Trying hard not to be the first one to blink, I played Mr Seductive, pulling the bow undone with my teeth, with his fingers tangled in my hair.
“Mike ….. ?”
“Mmmmm, yeah?”
“The kids will be home next time we sleep in this bed. This is your last chance to make me scream.”
He screamed. So did I, many times as we made the most of being able to let rip. I think we fucked away every single calorie that we’d eaten, and more, and I undid some of his good work when I dragged the boxes out from the back of my closet because the flogger and the collar had most definitely got the loudest reaction out of him of any toys we’d ever played with. A couple of hours later, and totally fucked out, he settled for the night, not on his side, but on his front, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, still wearing the collar, and smiling in his sleep. I had just about enough energy left to undress, cover his deep-pink ass with the bedding and turn off the lights before I joined him in dreams of being reunited with our perfect little family.
*******
We didn’t need the alarm. We were both restless by first light, eager to get going, but we made good use of the extra hour or so, tidying up the mess we’d created so soon after Billie had tidied up the mess. This time, he had to deal with sheets that were dotted with splashes of vanilla pudding and chocolate and caramel sauces (hey, guys like dessert, too, you know), while I sponged similar marks from the PVC nurse’s apron before burying it back on the high shelf in my closet. Soon our room was presentable for the inevitable little visitors it would welcome once our break in Anaheim was over. We had a leisurely coffee before Rich arrived, and Frankie called to say he was on his way, because his kids had friends staying and he wanted to come to our place to escape a house filled with teenagers who hadn’t actually gone to bed yet from the night before. He took sadistic pleasure in reminding us that we’ve got that to look forward to in ten years, the bastard. We made the flight in plenty of time, willing the plane to eat the miles between Oakland and LA as quickly as possible, not least of all because Billie was finding sitting in one place pretty uncomfortable.
Our cab driver was an out and out fucking lunatic. To be fair, I offered him double the price if he broke a few speed limits, but this guy put all other LA drivers to shame. We screeched up to the gates of the Magic Kingdom at a few minutes after twelve, and headed for the reception desk, so near and yet so far from the kids.
For once, Billie was not hiding under a hat and his sunglasses had been tucked into the neck of his shirt since we went through security in Oakland, and the girl behind the desk did a quick double-take at our faces, which were plastered over just about every billboard in America advertising the new album. She asked if we had the children with us, and lots of other seemingly irrelevant shit, and we were both getting fucking impatient, counting down minutes, not hours before we could cuddle our little ones. I must admit, I sighed a little too loudly when she asked us to wait a moment.
“What the hell … did they fuck up the booking?”
“No clue. I got all the confirmation e-mails, everything looks okay to me.”
“So what’s the deal? Where’d she go?”
I was beginning to think I was going to have to stop Billie climbing over the desk to go find her, but lucky for her, she reappeared with that patented Disney smile on her face. She tapped a couple of commands into her computer and handed me, not a plastic card, but an ornate, golden key.
We’d been given the Dream Suite - not on the strength of being rock stars, but because of Billie’s place in the history books as the first male mom. Neither of us are keen on the celebrity shit - the stuff I ironically call the Mickey Mouse part of our lives - but this felt different. I was so proud of him, I thought I was going to burst.
We were pretty much thrown sideways. This room is legendary, staying in it is such a privilege, something that literally money can’t buy, and although we were obliged to take the half-hour tour around our home for the night, we thought it was worth it. Our babies - Glory especially - were going to love it. We were shown the switches and tricks that would bring the rooms to life, and learned that as the VIP guests of the day, we’d all get the chance to ride up front of the parade that Gloria had been so excited about. As soon as we were free, I stowed our pathetically small bag into the huge walk-in closet, and stuffed the camera in my jacket pocket whilst Billie called Mom, trying hard to keep the excitement out of his voice as he lied about how nice the weather was at home.
As luck would have it, they were very close. Glory had decided she wanted to be a pirate princess when she grew up, and they were just about directly below the Dream Suite, on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride for apparently the fifth time. We walked to the exit of the ride, where we spotted Billie’s cousin and aunt with Ollie junior asleep in the stroller, and waited behind them for Mom and Glory to appear.
Without sounding too sappy, it was probably the happiest afternoon of our lives. Glory squealed when she ran over to us, and Ollie reduced us both to tears when he threw his arms around our legs and called us ‘Dadda’ for the first time. We hugged and kissed all of the party, and tickled two of them, telling them the part of our surprise that had been a surprise to us over an extremely noisy lunch.
The parade was fun, despite us not being into the Disney hype, but the look on Glory’s face as she waved to the crowd from our high seats on a Cinderella-style coach, following a car which contained the rest of the adults in our party, was pretty special. As soon as they had explored a few of our suite’s surprises, we managed to persuade the children to have a short nap before the fireworks, and when they woke, we had a meal delivered to us, which we ate in our courtyard, under a canopy of projected fireflies, the space lit with paper lanterns. Billie casually brought up the question of who was going to sleep where that night, suggesting that Mom should have her share of the fun, but she insisted that we stayed in the Dream Suite with the little ones. She reasoned that she wanted a chance to pack all of their stuff together without small people under her feet, and that it would make up for us missing out on part of our honeymoon. It was useless arguing, and we were both secretly looking forward to starting the next day with cuddles in bed whilst the room played out a few more of its secrets. Everything decided, we just had time to bath the kids in a tub under a domed ceiling that was dotted with twinkling stars, and get them almost ready for bed before the fireworks started.
We sat and watched the show from our perfectly-positioned balcony, babies cradled in our laps. Afterwards, they went to bed like little angels. Several days of non-stop stimulation had finally caught up with them, and shortly after the last spray of colour lit up the sky, they were snuggled down in their beds, smothered with a hundred kisses each.
The five grown-ups sat and talked for a while in the huge sitting room, watching the fake firework show in the hearth, until one yawn from Ollie senior set us all off, and with the prospect of a long drive ahead of us, and the inevitable early wake-up call from our refreshed little monsters, we decided that it was bedtime for us as well.
At last, we were finally alone with our Disney-ed out children, and we stood, hand in hand in their doorway for ages, just watching them sleep, then headed to our own room across the lounge.
Billie went to brush his teeth first, whilst I retrieved two clean shirts and some shorts to sleep in from our bag. I took them into the bathroom, and, almost without a word, we got ready for bed. One benefit of this suite was the vast array of toiletries left out for us, which was very useful, because we hadn’t given a single thought to buying simple basics like toothpaste since we landed, so eager were we to get our hands on the kids. We left our discarded clothes on the floor, too lazy to sort them out, and crawled into the four-poster bed that was not quite as big as ours back home, but certainly wide enough for two adults and two small people in the morning, meeting in the middle for a chaste kiss.
“Happy?”
“God, yeah. Frankie’s a fucking genius. Today was awesome.”
“It really was. I mean, Glory loved it, but I think Ollie got something out of it, too.”
“I think so too - Dadda ….”
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. That was one of the cutest moments ever. “Fuckin’ adorable. Just like his daddy.”
“Mmm, yeah.” Billie’s hand sneaked under the waistband of my shorts, and gave my butt a little unchaste squeeze. “Adorable.” I groaned so loud that I shushed myself, and when our giggles had subsided, I groped his soft, still-tender ass, taking the precaution of kissing him to keep him quiet. It worked - partially. He was still making a fair bit of noise, but nowhere near enough to disturb the kids. Without separating our lips, I checked out the state of his cock, and when his initial moans had subsided to a low hum that was more vibration than sound, I risked speaking.
“Want you.”
“God, yeah. Me, too, you …” He giggled again. “These sheets look far too perfect. Wanna mess them up a bit?”
“Absolutely.”
With a bright smile and a whispered ‘I love you’, he rose onto his knees. He moved a couple of pillows to support not just my head, but my shoulders, too, then straddled my chest and buried his face in my groin.
I could feel his breath through the cotton, as he nosed my erection to one side to reach my balls, bathing them in damp heat until I started begging him to touch me. Only then did he roll down my shorts, just far enough for them to create a little cradle around my sac, and immediately took my entire length into his mouth.
I let myself get carried away for a few heady (hah!) moments, kneading his ass through his shorts, making sure I hit the spots where the flogger had done its work the night before. His breathing became slow and loud, and he did something like a hiccup when I eventually tugged on his waistband to expose his flesh to the cool of the room.
Even in this low light, I swear I could see the glow of his skin. His ass looked so inviting, and if we had been at home, I would have happily given up the blow-job and fucked him hard instead, but number one, that would result in a LOT of noise (like last night, when he made my ears ring), and number two - no lube, thank you very much airline restrictions. Funny, that wasn’t one of the items provided by Disney in the bathroom, either. I really wanted to suck him, but he was a bit too far forward for me to do that comfortably for either of us, so instead, I slurped on my fingers, making sure he heard what I was doing, then slid two of them inside him, heading straight for the little clump of nerve endings that drives him crazy.
His reaction was fucking hot. He rocked backwards onto my fingers, and the heat around my cock intensified as he whimpered through the initial, intense sensation. I quickly lessened the pressure on his sweet spot, and he relaxed a little, both of us concentrating most of our efforts on stopping me from coming too fast. When we were as chilled as we are ever going to be during oral sex, I slid my other hand underneath him, and, just as he had done to get the second orgasm out of me in the car, began to stimulate him on the outside as well as in.
We were in no hurry for this to end, although I was pretty aware of the fact that this was our first moment of intimacy all day - we’d been up at the crack of dawn, but then, all we could think of was being in time for our flight. I was getting a fuckton of pleasure from the way Billie was writhing about on top of me, let alone from his incredibly talented mouth. And yeah, I would have loved to taste him right now, but this way, I was free to speak, to express my enjoyment and to add to his. I also had his sweet peach of an ass in my face, and I planted as many kisses on it as I could. Once or twice I let my tongue skim over his balls, lifting them then letting them drop, at the same moment that I stroked his prostate a little more firmly. For that, I was rewarded with a deep hum, and a blast of super-heated air straight from the depths of his lungs, and I had to bury my face in his thigh, starting on a hickey, like the ones I used to give him when we first started fucking, to muffle my cries.
If I couldn’t taste him, I did at least have his scent to draw in with each breath, warm and musky and natural, for a change not masked by lube. I sniffed hard, and my cock reacted with a spasm, and I guess from the sudden, urgent flickering tongue on my tip, a nice little dose of pre-come. All at once, Billie’s breathing became ragged, his head bobbed a little faster, and I knew that, for him, the gap between control and chaos was shrinking. Me, too, with all of these extra stimuli bombarding me. I warned him that I was almost done, although I have no fucking doubt that he knew that already, despite his own distracted state. I gripped his cock, high and tight, and launched a full-on attack on his prostate.
He seemed to come forever. Although my fist was curled around his tip to save the bed from the worst of the mess (hey, we might want to come back here when the kids are older), I could feel rivers of his heat trickling over my stomach and down my side, but there was nothing I could do about it because I was in the middle of pumping what felt like a gallon of my own seed up into his throat, making him produce an odd little sound somewhere between a gargle and a scream. He was clenching hard against my probing fingers, reminding me of just how fucking wonderful he feels around my dick, and that sweet thought gave a little more life to my orgasm, but slowly, reason returned, and out of sympathy for his tired body, I pulled out of him, my cock dropped wetly onto my belly, and Billie collapsed onto his back next to me, empty and exhausted.
I tried to rescue the sheets with a handful of Kleenex from the pack on the nightstand before crawling down to my upside-down lover. I lapped at his sticky mouth until it opened for a breathtaking kiss as I did my best to clean him up, too, with a disintegrating wad of tissue which I’d only just noticed was decorated with grinning Mickey faces. He tucked me back into my shorts before rearranging his own night clothes, then snuggled in so close it was as if he had been poured into his skin to fit against me.
“You might wanna turn round before you fall asleep.”
“Yeah, soon. Just want to hold you. Gotta get up, anyway.”
“Huh? Up?”
“Bathroom. Mouthwash.” He huffed in my face, and yeah, he had a point. Seven or eight hours time, that was not going to be pleasant. “You hit the coffee hard today.”
“Yeah, sorry.” NotSorry. Running around adventure parks with kids needs the assistance of caffeine, and besides, he’d had as much as me, although I had managed to escape the downside of that. My nipple got a blast of hot air as he yawned, and I nudged him to the side of the bed. “Come on, it’s now or never.”
He scrambled to his feet, running his hands through a bedhead of curls that had hardly seen a bed yet.
He was gone for much longer than I expected. I was struggling to keep awake, and when I gave in and went to find him, he wasn’t in the bathroom. I knew exactly where he’d be.
He dragged his gaze away briefly to return my smile, then leaned against me, my arm across his shoulders, his around my waist, watching our babies sleep for a little while before we, too, settled down to dream in the Dream Suite.