Obedience 19
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mmmmike
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day, but I do have access to chloroform
Part nineteen of fuck knows. As many as it takes.
Goes hand in handcuffs with
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Billie’s second orgasm was pretty spectacular, even by our standards. I’d worked him up to fever pitch with a combination of my mouth and one solitary finger, and after he finished soaking us both, I tipped him onto his back and lay next to my sweating, beautiful mess of a man for a close-up view of him in recovery mode. He shivered through a dozen aftershocks from the climax that had centred on his prostate, sprawled across the sheets, for the moment spent and satisfied, but fully aware of the fact that I had hardly as much as touched my own cock yet. I knew I was asking a lot, but he’s never disappointed me in bed. Besides, to get him back in the mood for the fuck we both planned on, I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
Which brings me to the matter of clothing. Billie was still just about wearing the silk shirt. It was undone, but the delicate fabric clung to his damp body, like a second, shimmering skin. As for me, apart from my jacket and shoes, I was dressed in the same way as I was when we went to dinner - except for the open zipper - but suddenly, I needed to be naked. As I undid the first buttons, Billie flipped on an extra spotlight above the bed and dragged himself wearily onto his side to watch me.
There’s something really hot about stripping in front of someone, even if it is something you’ve done a thousand times before. I dropped my shirt to the floor, at the same time dragging my feet across the rug to remove my socks without me having to do the uncool, hopping about on one foot and tugging thing, leaving me in just my lucky Solos. They fit well, no belt required, but before I released The Beast from its cloth prison, I glanced in Billie’s direction. His eyes were bright, focussed on my lower half, and an inch of pink tongue protruded from the side of his mouth. His lips glistened where he had recently licked them, and when I whispered his name, he lifted his gaze, blushing through his already heat-darkened skin, as if he had been caught in some sinful act.
“You do it. Take them off.”
He nodded, letting out a long breath as he crawled to the edge of the bed, sticky fingers fumbling for the button and hook at my waist. Once they were undone, he cupped his hands over my ass to help the fabric fall, his face barely an inch away from my freed boner. I helped him with a little wriggle, and a quick sidestep later, I was standing in front of him, totally naked.
I could have guessed where this was going next, although it wasn’t in my original plan. I was horny as hell after helping him achieve two orgasms, and I wanted to fuck him, there and then, but it was early, still way before midnight, and he was going to need a lot of time to work up to number three, and a fuck that was going to be truly worth the wait. In my current state of desperation, I was simply not going to stay the distance. He sniffed and licked me, landed a kiss on my balls, and squeezed my butt, humming softly all the while. I twisted my fingers, equally as sticky as his, in his curls, and when he asked a question without saying a word, I answered with a nod of my own.
I’m not proud of myself, I didn’t last long, but then I didn’t need to. One short, heavenly encounter with his mouth took away my urgency, and gave him a little more time to recover, and, I hoped, some inspiration. I guess he’d figured out for himself what I was thinking, because he really went for it. Okay, I confess, so did I. I untangled my fingers from his hair, instead lacing them together behind his head to hold him in place, and he rewarded me with tight, rhythmic compressions at the back of his throat that really get the best out of me, fast. No man can take that for long, being deep-throated by a lover with almost no gag reflex, and although it was quick, it was still fucking good. Afterwards. my chest heaving, I sat on the bed leaning into him, my head on his shoulder, pulling myself back together. He allowed me a few minutes to regroup, then softly transferred his kisses from my hair to my lips, where he whispered a quiet ‘I love you’.
“Love you too. You’re so fucking good at that.”
“I love it, love making you happy.” He giggled, stroking my flaccid dick with the back of his hand. “And before you ask, it wasn’t fizzy.”
“Yeah, I think there might be something fucking wrong if it was. So d’ya think Frankie and Sara are still going?”
“Mmmm, god, yeah. Remember the Super-O? If she’s using a fake dick on him for the first time, fuck knows what he can do.”
I sucked at his bottom lip, my cock beginning to appreciate the dirty talk, his too, to a lesser extent, but then it had just had a major work-out. Twice.
“Do you really think she got a strap-on? I mean, like really, or is this just our filthy minds?”
Billie settled in, the same way as he does when it’s story time for the kids. “He said she’d got something to show him ..…”
“Yeah, but it could be underwear.”
“Could be, but she wasn’t wearing any tonight.”
“Billie!!”
“I wasn’t looking on purpose. In the car, it was kinda …. obvious.” He kissed my shock away, biting at my lip in the way he knows I love. “I looked away. I preferred watching you drinking from the champagne bottle.” This time, he not exactly kissed my neck, more like caressed it with his lips. “But if we rule out underwear, it has to be a toy, and let’s face it, there isn’t much in Julie’s catalogue that he hasn’t already got.”
He spoke the truth. If it was kinky, chances were that Frankie had already been there, done that and thrown away the ripped and stained t-shirt. “Okay, so it’s a strap-on. Skin tone, or one of those fucking lurid pink things?”
“Jesus, Mike, you’ve spent far too fucking long looking for new ways to torture me. Ya planning putting two of these in me at once?”
“N .. no, not …. well, maybe, but I wasn’t shopping, just saw them when I was looking at the bondage range. She put some new stuff up…..”
Billie shivered slightly, his hand going straight to his throat. The collar got a lot of use these days, almost as much as the flogger, and it looked like he missed it. I kinda regretted leaving that behind, but we couldn’t bring all our toys on tour, because we’d never get to actually play a fucking show. His face was a delicious shade of pink, and his breathing was definitely getting noisier. “Skin. She’d choose skin. More real.”
“Yeah, I agree. What size?”
“Oh, god ….” I was encouraged a little more by the fact that his hand dropped from his throat to his groin, his voice following it. “I don’t …. maybe your size?” Good point. I mean, who wouldn’t want a fake cock in my size? But then again ……
“No. I think she’d go smaller to start with. Maybe somewhere between us.” Call me the king of dick diplomacy.
“Or the same size as Frankie?”
“Yeah, that would make sense. Wouldn’t want to intimidate him. Ha! I wonder if she found one with only one ball!”
Billie chuckled, and had a little grope, as if he was checking that he still had a full set. “That would be perfect. And I’d bet she bought one of the skin colour harnesses, too, just to help the illusion.”
“And the paddle? Before or after?”
“Before. I love it when you flog me before …. But after, too.”
It was my turn to grab at my junk. This was such a fabulous way to get us in the mood, speculating about our friends making love just a few yards away. I wasn’t quite hard enough yet, but the conversation, and more to the point, the tone of Billie’s voice, was working wonders.
“How’re you doing?”
“Good. Nearly there. You?”
“Almost. Need a little help.”
Immediately, as if he was waiting to be asked, Billie dropped his head into my lap, his mouth and the nimble, sticky fingers between my legs encouraging my engorging cock. I rested my hand lightly on the back of his head, far more gentle than I had been a short while before, allowing him to take me deep only if he chose to do so, drawing my growing erection up like soft clay on a potter’s wheel, until it stood as hard and proud as the one we were fantasising about in our drummer’s ass. I reached for the pink bottle on the nightstand, and when he heard me flip the cap, Billie pulled off my cock with a wet pop, and laid back to let me do the same favour for him.
He didn’t need much work, but I stayed down there for a while, just to be sure, you understand, but it was him who ended the oral play, when he squirted strawberry lotion onto his fingertips and wiped it on me.
“So what kind of lube d‘ya think she got?”
I gasped, partly from the delicate touch, partly from the kick I got from him carrying on with the game. “Chocolate…. jeez, that feels nice ….. definitely chocolate.”
“Yeah, I thought that, too. And do you think she’ll do it for him, you know, get him ready, or make him prep himself?”
Fuck, what a question, but I already knew my answer. “She’ll make him do it. She’ll get him to kneel up, and tell him what to do. That’s gotta be the hottest way.”
Before he answered, Billie took a composing breath, and smiled knowingly at me. Fuck, was I that easy to read? Apparently. With a soft, “Okay”, he slowly scrambled to his knees, and if he looked unsteady, I couldn’t tell if it was because the bed was softer than we were used to at home, or because, like me, his legs felt like they didn’t belong to him any more. I replenished the lotion on his fingers, and watched his face as he wriggled them into his ass, one after the other. If Sara was enjoying her evening half as much as I was, she was one very happy girl.
A couple of squirts later, he was moaning constantly, more backing on to his fingers than merely pushing them inside his recently-rimmed butt. I couldn’t resist landing one flat-palmed slap on his lily-white skin, and when his yelp faded from my ears, I continued with the twenty questions.
“How will she take him?”
“Mmmm?”
“Frankie. How d’ya think Sara will take him?” He knew that I was actually asking, how do you want me to take you?
“Oh, god …. Like this is good, but ….” His eyes closed for the longest blink in history. “She’ll want to see his face - see his reactions. She’ll want to watch him come.”
That was the moment I cracked. I wanted all of that, wanted him as much as I had when he first let me enter him all those years ago. Trembling, I guided his fingers from his body and lifted him onto his back, then dragged him until his ass was level with the edge of the bed. The shirt peeled from him, spread out under his head like a superhero’s cape in the wind, but somehow, it stuck to his shoulders and stayed on. He folded his arms for a pillow as I took another palmful of lube for luck, and finally buried my cock inside him, clutching his legs to my chest.
You don’t need me to tell you what bliss we rediscovered in the heat of each other’s bodies. You don’t need to know all the ins and outs (ha! Literally!), but you will want to hear how we went into explicit detail about the process of finding out how to make love to a guy. You’ll want to learn how we talked about how Sara would cope with the unfamiliarity of being in absolute control of satisfying her man in this new way, how Frankie would guide her using his past experiences with us, and how he would urge her to fuck him harder than she may have been willing to, helping her lose another virginity. We talked of the gorgeous agony of being forbidden to touch parts of your own body, the thrill of discovery of new ways of getting and giving pleasure, even about watching porn - our porn - for inspiration.
Several times I flipped him, twisting him into a new position to prove a point, or, more often, to share hungry kisses, until we ached like we had never ached in our lives. I was standing again, with Billie up on all fours, bumping back into me with noticeably less energy than earlier, and I knew as well as he did that our time was almost up. I pulled out of him, but before he could groan his disappointment, I lay next to him and beckoned for him to sit across me.
Already fighting for breath, he managed to swing his leg over my hips, waiting for me to line up my cock before lowering himself onto it, the same position that we had guessed Frankie would end up in. Rocking and grinding against my sweat and lube slicked thighs, and with the shirt once more almost fitting him more or less as it should, Billie stared at me with understanding in his eyes when I asked him to finish himself off.
Maybe it was a pre-orgasmic adrenaline rush, but he started rising and falling around me a little faster, leaning forward to use the shape of my cock to his best advantage, one hand on his thigh, the other rubbing himself at a punishing speed. I told him how beautiful he looked, and how much I loved the fact that it was my body that was making him feel that good, and then I felt the first faint tremor of his impending climax. He looked exhausted, hair over his eyes, mouth open, with sweat beading and dripping from every pore, and I brushed his hand away to finish the job for him. He whimpered his gratitude, barely keeping his balance as we came together, him for the third time tonight, and me for the second. Far too soon, he slipped forward, emptying his ass of shrunken dick, and a surprisingly long and bubbly fart.
“Fuck, Billie, really?” I could hardly talk for laughing and panting at the same time.
He looked unapologetic, maybe even proud. “Your fault. You’ve been pumping my ass full of air for half the night. It’s gotta come out sometime. Shit, do ya think Frankie …..?”
“Oh, fuck, maybe.” Yeah, that was one of his favourite ways to end an evening of love when it was all boys together.
“Poor Sara.” Billie slid down onto the mattress and handed me a Kleenex which I soon discovered, he’d already used. “But I gotta say, lucky Sara, too. He has a great ass.”
“Yeah, he does. Glad it’s being appreciated again.”
“You do realise this is all still fantasy, right? I mean, she might have wanted to show him something she’d picked out for the wedding.”
“Hell, yeah, but this is more fun. I love you. C’mere …”
He rolled into my arms, heavy limbs supported on me, yawning against my chest. The shirt shrouded his torso, drenched in sweat that had lost all of its heat, and although he didn’t say anything to me, many long breaths and short kisses later, he shivered. I eased him up, peeled it from him inside out, and whispered my goodnights.
He didn’t answer. He was asleep.
I turned off the light, tucking the sheet around Billie’s cool shoulders and snuggling in for what was destined to be a good, long sleep. Somewhere out in the city, a clock struck midnight, and a siren wailed, but much closer to our bus, probably only a handful of yards away, there was another noise - a faint, sharp crack, followed by a high-pitched voice, yelling “Armageddon!”
*****
At breakfast the next morning, everyone was yawning. Sara had a very smug look on her face, and a grinning Frankie ate his food standing up, but everyone said that night’s show was better than ever.