Obedience 18
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mmmmike
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day, but they are on my birthday list
Part eighteen of fuck knows. As many as it takes.
Goes hand in handcuffs with
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Dinner was good, well, at least after all the teasing about our little session of afternoon delight had ended. Unknown to us, we’d drawn a crowd after the buses pulled into the parking compound, drivers and a few crew members having a good laugh at our expense (apparently, we were pretty vocal and there was an air vent right behind the bed that carried our voices. Ooops.). Of course, they were encouraged by Tré, and his fiancee. Sara is so good for him, sort of his female counterpart and I think they’re going to be amazing together. I’ve been feeling vaguely guilty for years that he hadn’t settled down, especially after Mike and I got real serious about our relationship around fifteen years ago, excluding all other sexual partners - in other words, pretty much only Tré. He’d gone through half of the single women in California (and some of the married ones) looking for something that he eventually found in Sara, and that made both of us very happy.
But as I said, dinner was great. We looked pretty smart, despite having less than a half hour to get ready even if I do say so myself. Call me Mr Modest. We made an effort to dress nicely to make up for the fact that we still had wet hair when we left - I wore a grey suit and a black silk shirt, one of Mike’s favourites on me, and Mike dug out his Han Solo pants, the ones with the red stripes down the leg that make him look seven feet tall and even more elegant than usual. He calls them his lucky pants, because he says he always gets laid when he wears them. Seems to me his closet is full of lucky pants.
We were seated in a quiet booth in a little Greek place that Frankie knew from an earlier tour, although it wasn’t quiet for very long after we got there. Champagne flowed like water, and I lost count of the number of toasts we made to the future Mr and Mrs Wright, especially after Frankie asked us both to be his groomsmen on the big day. We accepted - after all, he’d done the same for us when we finally got married just over two years ago, and we really wanted to be part of this special occasion for our closest friend.
Being stuck on the bus had sent us all kinda stir-crazy, and I think the restaurant owner was very glad to see the back of us when we finally left more than two hours later. The car was waiting to take us back to the venue, a huge stretched thing that meant we could spread out, passing the remnants of the last bottle around, laughing loud at nothing in particular all the way back to our mobile homes. We weren’t rolling drunk - we had a show the next day, and that’s no fun with a hangover - but we were giggly and relaxed, totally high on life.
There was a small crowd of hardcore fans camped out by the parking lot, and we stopped to say hi, sign stuff, and pose for a few pictures before the gate locked behind us. As usual, our buses were in the farthest corner of the compound, next to each other so that we could move from one to the other without prompting a chorus of screams from outside of the fence, and between the two vehicles was the perfect, private place to enjoy a last cigarette together before going to bed. Sara made her excuses and disappeared into their bus, leaving us and Frankie alone together for the first time in forever.
We finished our smokes pretty quickly, but he seemed to want to hang around a bit longer, and as it was not particularly late, we were in no rush to get away. We talked about the tour, the next shows, the kids, until Frankie took a huge breath and we knew instantly that something was on his mind. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and dropped his voice.
“So, guys, thanks for agreeing to be my groomsmen. Appreciate it.”
Mike pulled him in for a hug, offering his other arm to me. “It’s our honour, Frankie. We’ll do you proud.”
“Thanks. It’s gonna be great.”
“It will. She’s cute and it’s fucking obvious that she loves you. She was all over you tonight.”
“Yeah.” Frankie blushed. He actually blushed! “She’s kinda physical. I’d show you the bruises but it’s fucking cold out here.” Now I thought about it, he had been very wriggly all evening.
“Bruises? What the fuck?”
“She found the stuff from Julie’s place a couple of months ago, my dildos, the butt plugs, all of it. She knows about … us … what we did, you know, before …”
“Shit. And she’s cool with it?”
“More than cool. She made me go into detail - a lot of detail. So I wondered ….” He swallowed hard, loud enough to hear above the background noise of city traffic. “I wondered if you’d mind me showing her some of your porn, I mean the tapes you made, like, your honeymoon? I mean, say no if it’s not cool, but, well … she got such a kick out of just fucking talking about it …”
He shivered, but I was pretty certain it had nothing to do with the air temperature. I was ready to say yes, but I bit my tongue until I could second-guess Mike’s reaction. He had the briefest shocked look on his face, but that faded into a smile which widened when he read my body language. “I can’t see any problem, can you, Bill?”
“I’m okay with it, as long as you are, Love.”
“I’m okay. After all, Frankie did give us the camera.” We sealed our decision with a small kiss, turning back to face our friend with the shining eyes.
“Fuck, thanks, I mean thanks a lot. Fuck, I was sure you’d say no.”
“Anything to help you get laid, Frankie.”
“Fuck, I don’t need much help. She’s amazing. She loved the toys, played with most of them. She really liked the flogger, but then she found the fucking paddle. She brought it with her this trip.”
Mike giggled, and gave my ass a not-particularly-secretive grope. “We didn’t get one of those. Flogger’s good, though. D’ya think we should try ….”
“No. Abso-fucking-lutely no, Mike.”
“I’m with Billie. Stick to the flogger. Anyhow, the other thing I wanted to ask was as groomsmen, its sort of traditional for you to arrange the bachelor party, yeah? Sara’s away the first week in March, March fifth, I think, so it sort of makes sense that mine’s the same time, if that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s good for us, unless I forgot something. Billie?”
“No, that’ll be good. It’s after Glory and Mom’s birthdays. Leave it with us, Frankie. We’ll thrash something out and get back to you.”
“Mmmm, thrash …” I gave Mike a ‘don’t you even think about it’ look and got a tongue poked out at me in return. God, he’s so fucking cute when he’s tipsy, but I’m not going to let him beat me the day before a show. Frankie tightened the hug, and kissed our cheeks, the first time he’d done that since Ollie was born, getting sloppy kisses from both of us in return.
“I fucking love you guys. Right, I’m going to bed. Sara had something she wanted to show me and I guess you two want to carry on where you left off this afternoon. G’night. See ya at breakfast.”
We went into our separate doors, and locked ourselves in for the night, headed straight for the bathroom on the lower floor, picking our way through the mess of towels from our rushed shower earlier. It was like being back in the squat as teenagers, where Mike once pinned a piece of carpet to a wall to remind us what the floor looked like without shit all over it. It was such a small room, Mike had to sit down to pee to let me stand at the sink to clean my teeth, and mid-brush, I turned away from the mirror to see why he was laughing.
“What’s so funny? Did I sit in something?” I tried to look at my own ass, but that wasn’t going to happen. No idea why I even tried. He giggled again, and gave me a little slap, and I nearly choked on toothpaste.
“Not this time.” He’s never going to let me forget leaving the house with a luminous pink blob of Gloria’s modelling clay stuck to my butt a few months ago. “I was just thinking. Champagne …” He chuckled again, and I had to grin at my gorgeous, goofy man, sitting on the john with his pants around his ankles. “Fizzy, yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s fizzy.”
“And we’ve been drinking it all night?”
“Yeah. Mike, where the fuck is this going?” I had to wait for him to stop laughing enough to answer, and fuck, the cuteness intensified tenfold.
“So what I wanna know is ….why isn’t my pee fizzy?”
I wiped the dribbled mint foam from my chin with one of the discarded towels, then sputtered into a shaggy blond head, throwing a few kisses into the mix for good measure.
“Fucking moron. Come on, I gotta pee now. Swap.” We did a little shuffly thing, and I pissed with a well-filled pair of Han Solo pants in my face. As soon as he’d spat the last of the mouthwash into the basin, he backed out of the bathroom, and I followed him up the staircase to our little bedroom, eye level with a very attractive butt.
I hung my jacket on the back of the door, kicked my shoes into a corner and took off my pants, socks and underwear as if they were one garment, but that was as far as I got before Mike intervened. The warmth of his body against my back, his hands slipped under the shirt and he nuzzled into my neck to lick at the hickey, which was pretty much the reason for me not wearing a necktie tonight. It felt bruised all the time in the most delicious way, but his tongue now reactivated the sharper sting of recently-broken skin and my cock, already at half-mast, swelled to full hardness. I swear I would have fallen if there hadn’t been a wall right there to support me. He sucked on my wound for a while before speaking, making my shirt ride up as he stretched for my nipples, and my legs felt even weaker.
“Fuck, Mike ….”
“Good?”
“Good. The best.”
“So what do you think Frankie’s getting now? Head, or another spanking?”
“He said she had something - fuck! - to show him. New underwear, dunno, maybe a new toy.”
Mike pressed himself against me a little more firmly, making sure I was hyper-aware of the erection he’d developed since leaving the bathroom, and also making it very difficult for me to think straight. He grabbed at my buttock, his fingers slotted into my crack, and rubbed a firm thumb over me, his voice getting hoarser with each sentence.
“My guess is a strap-on, and she’s gonna use it on him tonight. She’s lubing him up right now, I’d put money on it.”
I moaned, partly at the thought of the guy we used to have threesomes with getting the kind of outrageous sex that he loves, but also because Mike’s fingers were exploring deeper. I wanted him so bad, and now, but he carried on talking. I rested my face on the cool wall, trying to take away some of the heat that was building up in my cheek. “She’s gonna make him beg, and after, she’s gonna work him so hard.” He broke the mood with a stupid spluttery snigger into my neck, and repeated, “Hard ….”.
I was gone, too, and I twisted in his arms, carefully, making sure his fingers stayed pretty much where they were. I stopped his giggling with my tongue, vaguely tasting my blood on his breath as I unzipped his pants and slipped my hand inside, driven almost to the point of insanity with want, more so when I discovered he was going commando. It was his turn to make the needy noises, but he surprised me by stopping me from undoing the rest of the fastenings holding his pants in place, by grabbing my wrist and whispering, “No…” Dazed by lust, I watched him slowly sink to one knee, lift my shirt and lick me from balls to slit.
We didn’t speak a lot for the rest of the blow-job. Mike, obviously, had his mouth full most of the time, and there were no words I needed to waste my breath on. We’ve been through this act so many thousands of times, we both know what it takes to speed up or slow down the action, and tonight, it appeared that Mike had decided we were in no hurry. He let go my butt and gently pushed my legs apart a little more, until he could get his hand between my thighs and start teasing at my hole again. I gasped, leaning hard against the wall, feeling the coolness hit my skin through the thin layer of silk, in sharp contrast to the inferno inside me. I started to undo the shirt’s buttons, but Mike came up for air long enough to growl at me to keep it on. I nodded, lacing my fingers in his long hair and let him do whatever he fucking wanted with me.
Slowly, my orgasm crept up on me. At first I felt as if my balls were getting heavier, and Mike’s fingers were making me very aware of my ass. I found myself bouncing so slightly to increase the contact with my entrance, and I got that delicious feeling in the pit of my stomach which reacted to every stimulus, sending thrills cascading down my spine, as if practising for the final, violent muscle spasms that would propel my seed from my body into Mike’s. Time and again. he took me almost to the brink, only to let my climax slip away so that he could draw out the pleasure for a little longer.
And then he pushed his luck a bit too far. The friction of firm lips on the outside of my cock combined with the pressure in my balls to create a huge, seething mass inside me, a mass that had only one escape valve. I yelled Mike’s name as my legs trembled under my weight and my orgasm ripped through me,with my beautiful man gulping my load in the same way as he had drunk from the champagne bottle in the car. His lips tightened around my dying erection to catch every last drop, and when he finally let me go, I was on the point of physical collapse. He stood, his free hand in the small of my back, turned me and walked me backwards until I felt the mattress hit the back of my legs. He let me down carefully, and still worrying at my ass, lay next to me, eyes sparkling. He undid my shirt, but wouldn’t let me shrug it from my body, but he gave each newly-exposed nipple the softest of kisses.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Just catching my breath. That was fucking beautiful.”
“You came loads …” He buried his giggle in my neck, giving the hickey some more attention while he was in the neighbourhood. “That wasn’t fizzy either.”
We were helpless for a good few minutes, holding each other tight as laughter rippled through us. At one point, I had tears streaming from my eyes, and we ended up laughing at the fact that we were laughing. He’s such a fucking clown, but when the last hiccuppy giggles subsided, a much more serious mood descended on us. He was still using his fingers to great effect, and when my breathing allowed it, he covered my lips with his for the steamiest of kisses.
I guessed this was the prelude to me getting fucked in the very near future. Mike loves fucking me when I’m like this, and his cock felt enormous against my hip, even through his pants. Having him inside me when I am as relaxed as I was right then, well, I really have no problem with that - hell, I’d been horny since he grabbed my butt in the parking lot, and one orgasm down the line, that need had, if anything, intensified. I was waiting for the scent of our current strawberry lube to fill my nostrils when he finally broke the prolonged, come-flavoured kiss and dragged me up on to my knees, but instead of silky lotion, what had been started by Mike’s fingers was continued by his tongue.
I know I screamed. I couldn’t help it. This was a total surprise, and I reared up, my back hollowing and my head tilting back to face the ceiling. That, in turn, stretched my throat, and once again, the pain from the hickey spread, enveloping me like a warm fuzzy blanket. I let my shoulders drop, and sighed my delight as Mike’s tongue worked into me, feeling the life coming back into my cock with every lick. He’d want me to be hard before the fuck, and I figured I only had a few glorious minutes of this to enjoy before he needed my body to satisfy his, but even after he checked my second hard-on of the evening, he carried on, slicking me with his saliva. When I spoke, my voice came out as a broken, gruff sound that I almost didn’t recognise as my own.
“Fuck, Mike …”
“Hmmmm?” The noise was part questioning, part contented purr, which got louder when he replaced his tongue with a long, flexible finger.
“I’m ready, Love. Any time you want ….”
“You don’t like this?”
“Fuck, yeah, love it. I just want ….you need …. Jesus!” He’d found my sweet spot, and simultaneously, he reached between my legs to grab my dick. I managed to gasp, “Just fuck me.”
“Yeah, I will, Baby, don’t worry. After ….”