Obedience 21
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mmmmike
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day, but I do have access to chloroform
Part twenty-one of fuck knows. This 'Indecent Proposal" may take up a few chapters.
Goes hand in handcuffs with
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I finished up in the bathroom first, because Billie has three times as much hair to dry as me, even when I’ve let mine grow to almost the same length as Glory’s. Our phones had been off since before the show, and I took a second to check for messages, finding just one of importance, from Mom, saying the kids were fine and she still hadn’t told them about seeing us. I guess that was payback for Disney - their excitement was going to be in overdrive by the time we got to see them. I was searching for the charger lead when Billie emerged from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in yards of leopard print which absolutely swamped him. He was trying a sassy hip-wiggling walk on his tip-toes, but he ruined the effect completely when he stood on the throw and it fell from him, revealing him in all his heat-pinked glor ..… magnificence.
“Nice entrance.”
“Thanks. I’ve not had any complaints so far.” He twitched the entrance under discussion and gasped, the plug still doing exactly what I wanted it to do. I had to laugh as his sass evaporated, and went to meet him part way across our luxuriously wide and non-shaky room.
“Asshole. That was great. I fucking loved the Mile High Club.”
“Mmmm, fuck, yeah. Gotta do that again, gotta tell Frankie about it, too.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. What say we pay for their honeymoon? I got no clue what else we could buy them, and after tonight, I’m thinking flying them wherever they want on a private plane would send them off with a bang.”
“Good call - and we still gotta plan the bachelor party. All I can think of is fucking Vegas.”
“Boat party?”
“And risk drowning the bridegroom before the wedding?”
“Fair point.”
“Unless ….”
“Hmmm?” I lost the power of speech temporarily, because I’d started work on his hickey again. I so wanted to mark him while we had a couple of days off. He tilted his head to let me get a better angle of approach, and his voice dropped an octave.
“Fuck, that’s good. I was thinking we could rent out somewhere, you know, remote, have a couple of days with some of his friends - oh, fuck, yes!” I stopped biting until his breath returned enough for him to speak. I sort of guessed he was going to suggest something earth-shatteringly hot. “And then have some time alone … “
“Just the two of us, like now?”
“Not exactly.”
I straightened up to make eye contact, because I suddenly knew where this was going.
“So, the three of us?”
He nodded slowly, chewing on his lip as he tried to read my reaction. “That’s what I was thinking, sort of one last fling.”
“Like he gave us?”
“Like he gave us.”
Our last time together was around fifteen years ago, at the very end of a tour like this one, but with smaller venues, when Frankie had split with a girl who he had thought was The One, and who turned out to be just another gold-digger. Totally unaware that his relationship was falling apart, we’d been getting more and more wrapped up in ours, and decided to make it official with a civil union, hatching plans to look into adopting some kids to make us a real family. We told Frankie our news before he told us his, and out of loyalty and compassion and a genuine affection for each other, we had had a glorious forty eight hour three-way session before we embarked on our new, monogamous relationship. It was pretty fucking memorable, and since that time, Frankie has respected our decision, and neither of us have so much as looked at another partner, but Billie’s suggestion had its attractions. We were in too deep with each other for it to make a difference to our long-term relationship, and Sara’s apparent interest in our past, and the simple fact that Frankie would love it were all plus points. It was pretty much a no-brainer.
“Okay.”
“Really? Fuck …..”
“Really, as long as Sara’s cool with it.”
“Fuck, yeah, absolutely. So we ask Frankie, or both of them together?”
“Frankie, alone. I think he should be the one to ask Sara.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that, although … what if we don’t tell him, just run it by her?”
“Oh, my god, yes. Yes - that way if she says no, he won’t get disappointed. If she agrees, we can make it a surprise.”
“Brilliant. Mike, one other thing ….”
“Mmmm?”
He swallowed very hard, because it felt good with me trying to spread the hickey further round the front of his throat, where it would be nice and visible to the whole world - my mark of ownership on him.
“We could … fuck! . we could offer ….oh, Jesus! If she says yes …. suppose we film it?” He blushed another three shades deeper. “For Sara and for us ….”
“I think that would be wonderful.”
We kissed, long and hard, Billie relieved that his idea had prompted the right reaction from me, both of us excited by the prospect of sharing a bed with our beautiful drummer once more. Our bodies pressed close, our cocks growing harder between us, and I reached around to jiggle the plug, which I still hadn’t let him take out, although in fairness, he hadn’t complained about it since we arrived at the hotel, and he seemed more than happy to leave it. I felt him tremble, and, far more gently than I had done on stage, I lifted him, and carried him to the bed.
We resumed the kiss for a while longer, hungry lunges of tongues around each other’s mouths, thoughts of how tired and sore we were pushed to the back of our minds by a combination of post-show elation, the lingering effects of our first mid-air fuck, and the closeness of two warm, highly-aroused bodies. I played with the plug again, and he bore down onto my fingers to deepen the sensation.
“You really like that, don’t you?”
“Fucking hot, but are you gonna make me wear it all night?”
“You want to?”
“Probably not. Gotta come, though. Can’t sleep this hard.”
“Me, neither. I’ll take it out for you, yeah?”
“Yeah. Please.” He yawned for the first time and I realised how late it was - although the corporate after-party would still be in full swing without any of us being there.
“Okay. Can you reach the bag? Lube ….”
He hooked his foot into the handle and drew the bag close enough for me to lift it. I put it next to me, or, to be more precise, far away from him. As yet, he hadn’t seen inside it - I’d dug out the clean clothes and stashed the dirty ones in the plane, even found our toothbrushes while he went into the shower ahead of me, and always fastened the zipper once I’d got what I wanted. There was a reason for that. I’d told him a bit of a white lie, that I’d packed some of the toys, when in fact, the bag contained every single one that we’d brought on tour - and more. Our bus was getting a thorough mid-run clean to make it a little more sanitary for the children, and I didn’t want a stranger finding our stash of perverted playthings. I could see what I wanted near the top, and before he could see it, too, I enveloped him in another hug, then asked him to lay across my lap. I spread my knees to support him, and he kissed my thigh, relaxed and ready for me to start what we both knew would inevitably end up as the countdown to another orgasm.
I made sure he heard me squirting lube onto my fingers, and I put the bottle down where he could see it. He had no clue about what I was planning, and his complete trust made me almost think twice about what I was going to do, but with his ass presented to me, round and pink and perfect, there was no way I could change my mind. He relaxed with a deep sigh, his muscles softened, and I wiped my slippery fingers, not on his butt as he expected, but over his balls. He tensed briefly, still not anticipating anything other than the smooth slide of silicone leaving his body, and that’s when I brought the paddle down on his unsuspecting flesh.
His reaction was as intense as the impact. He reared up, and he would have fallen from my lap had I not hooked my arm under his chest to save him. I could feel his heart thudding against my arm, and I’m pretty sure he could feel my cock flexing against his ribs.
“Jesusfuckingchrist!!! What the …?”
I showed him the toy, expecting him to grab it out my hand, and I was ready to apologise, but he threw me completely with a deep growl, and a quiet, “Sara?”
“Yeah. She’s got other plans for Frankie’s ass tonight.”
“I bet.”
“So … can we - can I?” I caressed the nearly-blank canvas that I wanted to desecrate, and he drew in a huge breath.
“Okay …”
“Fuck, Billie, I ….”
He shushed me, and flashed me a brief, brilliant smile. “Feels good. Hurts more than the flogger, different kind of pain, but it’s fine. Just remember I’m gonna drop my pants on Sunday.” With that, he settled back onto my legs, and buried his head in his folded arms to muffle at least some of the screams, for the sake of our fellow hotel guests.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so empowered. The flogger is great, but this small paddle was easy to use, and the effects of it were instant, solid circles of blood-flushed skin soon overlapping to cover his entire ass with a pleasingly even colour. The first few strokes were much lighter, because the tremble I developed made my muscles refuse to behave, but when every slap of rubber on butt was met with a choked sigh of contentment, my confidence grew. I started to vary my technique, hitting him not square-on, but obliquely, swiping the paddle across him, and I found out that he could take a lot of that before he needed me to give him a break. During these breathing spaces, I pulled the bottom of the plug, or twisted it, and his weight on my legs seemed almost to double. I know from experience how good this particular toy feels - it’s one of my favourites, too - and Billie was wriggling just enough to get the best out of it. His heart was still racing, and he’d started to time his breathing with the rhythm of the paddle, sometimes even lifting his hips to meet it that little bit sooner, getting some friction on his cock by rubbing it against my leg. After a very short while, his ass turned from all-over pink to uniformly red, hot to the touch and completely irresistible. I gave the plug a bit more attention, and checked that he was still enjoying it as much as it sounded like he was enjoying it.
“How’re you doing?”
“Fucking sore.” He chuckled, nevertheless, breathlessly. “Love it. Not gonna be able to sit tomorrow, but it feels great.”
“Not too much?”
“No.” One of my thighs got a reassuring kiss, the other the brief pressure of his flexing cock. “Gonna feel wonderful when you fuck me.”
My stomach did a nose dive. I guessed he would want to cash in on the after-effects of a beating, but hearing him ask to be fucked still gives me a thrill every damn time. “Is that what you want? I mean, we already … in the plane …”
“Yeah. Before and after a beating, remember? I want - if you do.”
How could he ever doubt it? His body was one complete delight, from the sinuous curve of his spine to the rough mop of golden hair that he needn’t have bothered drying. And don’t get me started on that ass, glowing after his spanking, his cheeks pushed slightly apart by the dark ‘O’ of silicone, and glittering with sweat and lube.
“I do. Your ass looks beautiful.”
“Yeah? Show me.”
I took around a dozen photos with my phone, mostly blurry because I had started shaking again, but when I shared my view with him, it made him breathe even more heavily than the paddle had. By the time he gave me back the phone, he was acting like he hadn’t had sex in a year.
“Mike …. the plug.”
“Yeah, I’m on it, Baby. I need the lube again.”
“Been caught like that before , but ..…” His chuckle was interrupted by a whole-body shudder which I suspect was triggered by the toy he’d been talking about. “Fuck.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, more than okay, this thing feels amazing.”
“I know. Perhaps I’ll get to wear it next time, huh?”
“You could wear it now.”
“Now?”
“Now. When you fuck me. It’ll be like the old days.”
My brain went into overdrive, memories of nights with two willing partners in bed with me, when every possible permutation of sexual activity between three men could, and did, take place. Coupled with the thought that we might be reliving some of those memories in a few months, suddenly, all I wanted was some kind of presence in my butt while my cock was inside Billie. It was my turn to mutter a quiet acceptance in a voice that was suddenly cracked and broken. I started to twist the plug from him like a waiter pulling a cork, and as soon as it was free, he rolled from my lap, groaning as the movement brought a wave of prickling pain, and waited for me to present my ass to him.
It was hot in every single definition of the word. Reminding me of nights when Frankie had given himself to us with uncompromising trust in a soft, sexy whisper, Billie gave me the shortest prep ever, so that when he put the toy into me, I was not only very aware of the stretch, but also the fact that it was still vaguely radiating the heat it had gained from his body. He kissed my balls, then my taint, and taste-tested my straining hard-on before scrabbling to his knees on the edge of the bed in front of me. I teased us both with a slow rub of my cock across his burning skin, the plug moving like it had a life of its own when, for the second time in two hours, Billie’s ass accepted my entire length.
I took him very gently to start with, getting myself reacquainted with the plug that I really should use more often. He whimpered at each collision of our bodies, both from the sting of his punished skin, and from how sensitive his insides must have felt after subtle, prolonged stimulation from a well-designed sex toy, but very few minutes in, the fuck became a serious reaming of his ass. It’s such a cliche but I couldn’t take my eyes off him, mesmerised by the way the shape of his butt changed as I drove myself into him. I stroked and squeezed, recharging sensitised flesh with little static shocks that made him gasp with pleasure, and all the time, the plug helped propel me towards my own orgasmic perfection. Tentatively, Billie lifted one supporting hand from the bed, the change of balance making him yelp, no longer able to resist the attention-grabbing twitches of his cock, and yet, as distracted as he was by his need to come, my amazing, considerate lover checked with me before starting to masturbate. I kissed his soaked neck, pulling the scent of his sweat deep into my lungs.
“Mike? Gotta ……”
“Yeah, I know. Go for it, Angel. Love you.”
He worked hard and he worked fast, no finesse, no inhibitions, just a lot of noise. There was no thought for our sleeping neighbours, when, with a longer version of that hot little sound the Reverend makes at the start of Broadway, he convulsed into his climax, taking me along with him for the most delicious of joy-rides.
As soon as I came, I had to lie down, or at least sit, before my leg muscles remembered that they had already done a show tonight. I landed heavily on the mattress, a surprised cry smothered by Billie’s lips as the plug felt as if it had grown an extra two inches in all dimensions. I felt a brief flash of guilt - I’d made him wear this for a bumpy landing, and a walk of several hundred yards, when the drop from upright to bed was as much as I could bear so soon after a hard orgasm. Still kissing me, Billie poured out more lube, and gently relieved my ass of its silicone occupant.
“Better?”
“Fuck, yeah. S’good, though.”
“That’s all that matters.” He transferred his kiss to my shoulder, gently biting and sucking until I relaxed enough for him to make a similar mark to his own on my skin. He’d chosen the spot where my guitar strap rests, where I’d feel it throughout the next show, but where only he could see it - unless I dressed as Fred Solo again. He licked his lips, savouring the salt of my sweat, and whispered against my cheek. “I love you so fucking much, Mikey. I hope Sara says yes, because what I really want is to be inside you when you’re fucking Frankie.”
I swear, every hair stood up on the back of my neck as my skin felt hot, cold and straight back to hot. Billie is as much as anyone could physically need, with an almost insatiable libido and a talent for making every fuck feel like the first time, but the memories of the weekend when we’d converted Frankie from a shy, straight virgin to a bisexual slut kept coming back. He’d started our habit of taking erotic pictures, with a permanently-borrowed Polaroid camera, and a little while later, he introduced us to the miracle that is edible lube. We owed him, big time, and as long as his future wife was happy with the whole deal, our minds were focussed on just how we were going to pay him back.
“Sounds fucking wonderful.”
We kissed until we started infecting each other with unsuppressible yawns, and when we woke the following morning, the wrong way up on the bed, we realised that we hadn’t even managed to turn off the light.