Downtown Whore 1: Drove Me to the Fire
Title: Downtown Whore 1: Drove Me to the Fire
Author: Tas (tasyfa)
Fandom: Green Day RPS - Billie Joe Armstrong/Mike Dirnt
Characters: Billie Joe/Rob Thomas; implied Billie/Tré, Billie/Mike, Mike/Tré, Billie/Mike/Tré, Billie/Adrienne, Rob/Tré, Rob/Paul, Rob/Marisol
Prompt: 34: Cock rings, for the 50kinkyways challenge
Word Count: 1,883
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own only the words; the people own themselves.
Dedication: An RPS!wing!fic for linzeems. (Don't ask.)
Author's Notes: This began more or less as a joke, and was originally planned to be a drabble only. Yeah. Somehow it grew into this kink!monster!crack!fic of over 7,000 words in total and so here we are, with a 4-parter that covers one night, each of the first 3 embodying a different prompt from my kink challenge table. It takes place February 7, 2006, the night before the Grammy Awards. From other events that day: this is Billie, and this is Rob and his wife Marisol; this is all 3 Green Day boys (Mike/Billie/Tré) at the Grammys the following night; and this is a recent picture of Billie and Adrienne. Aaaaand this is the picture that spawned my icon, from the 2002 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame After-party. As for warnings, this is about orgasm denial so there's a hell of a lot in here, and it's extremely explicit. I'm not about to list off every little thing or what would be the point in posting the story? Read it at your own risk. Link to the next part is at the bottom. :-)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
At the measured, staccato beat on the hotel room door, Billie Joe moved into position, his stomach tightening in anticipation. He listened to the lock click and the muted shuffle of shoes against the plush carpet, feeling eyes rake over his nude form. Knowing they would see the half-hard erection between his spread thighs; the rounded contours of his raised ass. He felt completely exposed, on display, and it flustered him, made him nervous and aroused both as he fought the urge to look behind him.
"Isn't that a pretty, pretty sight?"
Billie's head shot up at the unfamiliar voice and he rolled over, gracelessly toppling off the bed. Nerves burned into defensiveness when he stood up and glared at the figure in the shadows, recognizing him instantly. After all, his face had been plastered over everything as much as Billie's own had in the past year; Billie had even passed a building down in Burbank that had an American Idiot billboard on one side and a Something to Be billboard on the other. The juxtaposition had inspired amusement, then.
Now he was pissed off.
"What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?"
Rob concealed a grin at the belligerence. He'd caught the other musician off-guard; that was good; he could use that. "Tré didn't tell you?"
"Tré." Billie's eyes narrowed. Obviously he'd left his frontman even more in the dark than Rob had guessed.
"About this tall, maybe this tall when you factor in the hair, maniacal grin, plays drums for you?" Rob motioned with one hand when measuring Tré's approximate height, moving it up about six inches for the comparison. He saw the corner of Billie's mouth twitch and let his own smile burst through now. "Yeah, Tré."
"What does my drummer have to do with anything?"
"Isn't that who you were expecting?"
Billie sneered. "Who said I was expecting anyone?"
So he was going to play ignorant, was he? Rob had to hand it to him: Billie's slim body radiated attitude even naked, and someone who wasn't in the know might have believed him. Believed that the wanton positioning had been for self-pleasure, meditation, anything but the truth. The problem was, Rob knew better.
He paced closer, reaching a hand out to the wall near the bed and knocking in precisely the same staccato beat he'd used on the room's door, watching unusually lovely eyes widen in gradual understanding.
"I believe that was your pre-arranged signal to present."
Billie Joe flushed hot and cold, staring at the other man's knuckles against the white plaster. They'd talked about maybe trying something more formal, a little more out there, and Tré had said he knew some people, but… "Rob Thomas. He sends me Rob fucking Thomas."
He didn't realize he'd said it aloud until blue eyes glinted cynically over a twisted mouth. "It's just plain Rob Thomas actually, but I wouldn't expect you to know that. After all," his voice dropped to a low murmur. "There's only one man in this room who's been inducted into the Songwriters' Hall of Fame, and he's not a punk rocker."
Low blow, Billie thought, furious. He hadn't meant it as a slight - hadn't meant to say it at all, in fact - but there it was and now this prick dared to rub songwriting accomplishments in his face? Rage boiled through him, upsetting his already precarious emotional balance and blanketing rationality, and before he could consider the consequences, he balled one hand into a fist and swung.
Rob was ready for it; had counted on it, even. He stepped out of reach and clapped a hand around Billie's fist, using the momentum to spin Billie around and trap his arms against his own body, pulling the smaller man snugly against him.
The man in his arms went still and Rob grinned, rolling his hips against that beautiful bare ass, knowing Billie would be able to feel his erection and the slick surface of Rob's leather pants warming with the contact.
"You never answered my question." His voice sounded surprisingly calm, considering how pissed he had to be, especially now that he was being physically restrained. Rob chose to reward that with blunt honesty.
"Orgasm denial."
"Org - what?" A hint of vulnerability there and Rob's grin broadened. He knew what the automatic assumption would be.
"Not what you're thinking, man. It's not about stamina, at least in the standard sense. More like, hm." He dipped his head, dropping a few open-mouthed kisses across Billie's shoulder, feeling the muscles tense under his lips before continuing, "That's kind of like the standard version of stamina."
Rob shifted his grip, one arm spanning across the other man's stomach to keep him immobilized as he lifted his freed hand and slid it into messy black hair, pulling Billie's head around and back with a sudden twist that had his mouth opening involuntarily. He took instant advantage, plunging his tongue inside and taking control.
The successive shocks left Billie frozen in place as Rob kissed him, until instinct finally kicked in. Only it wasn't the one he expected. Instead of struggling to get free, Billie found himself kissing back, arching to improve the angle, pressing into the leather against his ass. The way Rob kissed was absolute, no shades of grey; either you backed off completely or you sank right into it and gave up.
Billie sank.
When Rob pulled back, the man in his arms remained still for a long moment before luxuriously long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal dazed arousal. Billie kept licking his lips as though to identify the taste on them and Rob couldn't help but smile. "What do you think?"
One more pass of his tongue over the lovely pout of his bottom lip and then hazel eyes focused on him decisively. "What do you need me to do?"
He rewarded the decision with a soft kiss, letting Billie Joe's head return to a more natural position afterwards while he spoke close to his ear. "Two things, sweetheart. First, I need you to get back up on the bed for me with your pretty ass raised high, and you're going to let me do whatever I want to you without coming until you're told. Can you do that?"
"I think so." A trace of hesitation colored his answer and in response, Rob dug something out of his back pocket, snapping the cock ring onto Billie's erection. He felt the light shudder that ran though his naked partner at the touch, and smiled as Billie amended, "Yes."
"Good. Second, I need your safeword, please. I don't play without one."
"Oh. Yeah, um, it's just red. I don't really have a personalized one."
His faint blush was adorable and Rob knew right then that this was going to be a good night. Billie's unfamiliarity in this particular area coupled with his abundance of sexual experience formed a sweet rarity indeed. Rob didn't need to go slow or be extra careful because he already knew that Billie could take it. In fact, if the other musician was as eagerly responsive to everything as he had been to one kiss, this would be a night Rob would remember for a long, long time.
"Red it is. Don't forget that you can use yellow for a temporary halt, too, okay?" At his nod, Rob continued, "On the bed with you then, boy."
Boy. Billie had never been called that, at least not in sex play, and he wasn't sure if he found it hot or irritating. It had been said so matter-of-factly that it didn't bother him, exactly, but spoken another way he could see it maybe getting under his skin.
He swore, startled, when the flat of Rob's hand connected with his butt cheek. What the fuck was that for? He twisted to look back. "I'm not really into that, so you know."
The other man nodded. "Noted." He motioned for Billie to move onto the bed and he turned, climbing up and crawling forward only a little before hands around his ankles halted his progress with his toes still dangling off the edge. "That's far enough. Present."
The command slithered across his skin, setting something curling low in his abdomen even as the peremptory tone sparked annoyance. But he had agreed to this now, however ambushed he'd been to begin with, and so Billie Joe slowly lowered his torso until his cheek rested against the muted swirl of the bedspread, his forearms braced on either side of his head. He straightened his thighs from their crouch and moved his knees farther apart until he'd reprised his original position.
He had thought it felt vulnerable to pose like this before, waiting for Tré, Mike or both to come to him. It had been nothing compared to the avalanche of nerves now, intensified by the warm, easy grip on his ankles by a man he didn't know. He'd talked to Rob before, sure; shared space with him for various events and ceremonies over the years, even smoked with him. But he didn't really know him.
What had convinced him to go through with this, even more than that brain-melting kiss, had been Rob's talk of Tré. His drummer obviously knew this man - given the circumstances, had most likely fucked this man - and more importantly, he had trusted him with Billie. And when Tré himself had only become part of Billie and Mike's longstanding sexual relationship a year and a half ago, not nearly long enough to have overcome all insecurities, the fact that he had wanted Rob to step in for this experience spoke of a high level of trust indeed.
Billie Joe trusted Tré, and Tré trusted Rob. It was a simple enough equation when you looked at it that way. Of course, the anticipation thrumming through his whole body with every breath didn't hurt any. He liked being teased; always had. The thought of taking that to an extreme level excited him and challenged him, and he rarely backed down from a challenge.
Rob took his time to simply look. He'd left instructions that Billie was to shower thoroughly and, expecting his known lovers, the other musician hadn't bothered styling his hair. The tousled, curling mass partially concealed the bare face turned up on one side between his hands and the combination made him look very young, much the 'boy' Rob had called him. The seeming youth was framed by heavily inked forearms. He found Billie's tattoo pattern curious; most people who had sleeves, or nearly so, started them at the shoulders; his began at his wrists and traveled up arms well-muscled from playing guitar. It looked slightly unbalanced in nudity, but he had to admit that it would be a far better way to show them off while clothed.
Bent into a vulnerable position and stripped of the vibrating attitude, Billie was smaller than Rob had thought - about the same size as Paul, really. Almost delicate in his slenderness, though experience with his own drummer had long since taught Rob that the implied fragility was deceptive to say the least. And the faint outline of rib bones and spinal column against taut, pale flesh gave way to a gorgeously rounded ass, raised high and open and waiting.
To Part 2
Author: Tas (tasyfa)
Fandom: Green Day RPS - Billie Joe Armstrong/Mike Dirnt
Characters: Billie Joe/Rob Thomas; implied Billie/Tré, Billie/Mike, Mike/Tré, Billie/Mike/Tré, Billie/Adrienne, Rob/Tré, Rob/Paul, Rob/Marisol
Prompt: 34: Cock rings, for the 50kinkyways challenge
Word Count: 1,883
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own only the words; the people own themselves.
Dedication: An RPS!wing!fic for linzeems. (Don't ask.)
Author's Notes: This began more or less as a joke, and was originally planned to be a drabble only. Yeah. Somehow it grew into this kink!monster!crack!fic of over 7,000 words in total and so here we are, with a 4-parter that covers one night, each of the first 3 embodying a different prompt from my kink challenge table. It takes place February 7, 2006, the night before the Grammy Awards. From other events that day: this is Billie, and this is Rob and his wife Marisol; this is all 3 Green Day boys (Mike/Billie/Tré) at the Grammys the following night; and this is a recent picture of Billie and Adrienne. Aaaaand this is the picture that spawned my icon, from the 2002 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame After-party. As for warnings, this is about orgasm denial so there's a hell of a lot in here, and it's extremely explicit. I'm not about to list off every little thing or what would be the point in posting the story? Read it at your own risk. Link to the next part is at the bottom. :-)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
At the measured, staccato beat on the hotel room door, Billie Joe moved into position, his stomach tightening in anticipation. He listened to the lock click and the muted shuffle of shoes against the plush carpet, feeling eyes rake over his nude form. Knowing they would see the half-hard erection between his spread thighs; the rounded contours of his raised ass. He felt completely exposed, on display, and it flustered him, made him nervous and aroused both as he fought the urge to look behind him.
"Isn't that a pretty, pretty sight?"
Billie's head shot up at the unfamiliar voice and he rolled over, gracelessly toppling off the bed. Nerves burned into defensiveness when he stood up and glared at the figure in the shadows, recognizing him instantly. After all, his face had been plastered over everything as much as Billie's own had in the past year; Billie had even passed a building down in Burbank that had an American Idiot billboard on one side and a Something to Be billboard on the other. The juxtaposition had inspired amusement, then.
Now he was pissed off.
"What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?"
Rob concealed a grin at the belligerence. He'd caught the other musician off-guard; that was good; he could use that. "Tré didn't tell you?"
"Tré." Billie's eyes narrowed. Obviously he'd left his frontman even more in the dark than Rob had guessed.
"About this tall, maybe this tall when you factor in the hair, maniacal grin, plays drums for you?" Rob motioned with one hand when measuring Tré's approximate height, moving it up about six inches for the comparison. He saw the corner of Billie's mouth twitch and let his own smile burst through now. "Yeah, Tré."
"What does my drummer have to do with anything?"
"Isn't that who you were expecting?"
Billie sneered. "Who said I was expecting anyone?"
So he was going to play ignorant, was he? Rob had to hand it to him: Billie's slim body radiated attitude even naked, and someone who wasn't in the know might have believed him. Believed that the wanton positioning had been for self-pleasure, meditation, anything but the truth. The problem was, Rob knew better.
He paced closer, reaching a hand out to the wall near the bed and knocking in precisely the same staccato beat he'd used on the room's door, watching unusually lovely eyes widen in gradual understanding.
"I believe that was your pre-arranged signal to present."
Billie Joe flushed hot and cold, staring at the other man's knuckles against the white plaster. They'd talked about maybe trying something more formal, a little more out there, and Tré had said he knew some people, but… "Rob Thomas. He sends me Rob fucking Thomas."
He didn't realize he'd said it aloud until blue eyes glinted cynically over a twisted mouth. "It's just plain Rob Thomas actually, but I wouldn't expect you to know that. After all," his voice dropped to a low murmur. "There's only one man in this room who's been inducted into the Songwriters' Hall of Fame, and he's not a punk rocker."
Low blow, Billie thought, furious. He hadn't meant it as a slight - hadn't meant to say it at all, in fact - but there it was and now this prick dared to rub songwriting accomplishments in his face? Rage boiled through him, upsetting his already precarious emotional balance and blanketing rationality, and before he could consider the consequences, he balled one hand into a fist and swung.
Rob was ready for it; had counted on it, even. He stepped out of reach and clapped a hand around Billie's fist, using the momentum to spin Billie around and trap his arms against his own body, pulling the smaller man snugly against him.
The man in his arms went still and Rob grinned, rolling his hips against that beautiful bare ass, knowing Billie would be able to feel his erection and the slick surface of Rob's leather pants warming with the contact.
"You never answered my question." His voice sounded surprisingly calm, considering how pissed he had to be, especially now that he was being physically restrained. Rob chose to reward that with blunt honesty.
"Orgasm denial."
"Org - what?" A hint of vulnerability there and Rob's grin broadened. He knew what the automatic assumption would be.
"Not what you're thinking, man. It's not about stamina, at least in the standard sense. More like, hm." He dipped his head, dropping a few open-mouthed kisses across Billie's shoulder, feeling the muscles tense under his lips before continuing, "That's kind of like the standard version of stamina."
Rob shifted his grip, one arm spanning across the other man's stomach to keep him immobilized as he lifted his freed hand and slid it into messy black hair, pulling Billie's head around and back with a sudden twist that had his mouth opening involuntarily. He took instant advantage, plunging his tongue inside and taking control.
The successive shocks left Billie frozen in place as Rob kissed him, until instinct finally kicked in. Only it wasn't the one he expected. Instead of struggling to get free, Billie found himself kissing back, arching to improve the angle, pressing into the leather against his ass. The way Rob kissed was absolute, no shades of grey; either you backed off completely or you sank right into it and gave up.
Billie sank.
When Rob pulled back, the man in his arms remained still for a long moment before luxuriously long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal dazed arousal. Billie kept licking his lips as though to identify the taste on them and Rob couldn't help but smile. "What do you think?"
One more pass of his tongue over the lovely pout of his bottom lip and then hazel eyes focused on him decisively. "What do you need me to do?"
He rewarded the decision with a soft kiss, letting Billie Joe's head return to a more natural position afterwards while he spoke close to his ear. "Two things, sweetheart. First, I need you to get back up on the bed for me with your pretty ass raised high, and you're going to let me do whatever I want to you without coming until you're told. Can you do that?"
"I think so." A trace of hesitation colored his answer and in response, Rob dug something out of his back pocket, snapping the cock ring onto Billie's erection. He felt the light shudder that ran though his naked partner at the touch, and smiled as Billie amended, "Yes."
"Good. Second, I need your safeword, please. I don't play without one."
"Oh. Yeah, um, it's just red. I don't really have a personalized one."
His faint blush was adorable and Rob knew right then that this was going to be a good night. Billie's unfamiliarity in this particular area coupled with his abundance of sexual experience formed a sweet rarity indeed. Rob didn't need to go slow or be extra careful because he already knew that Billie could take it. In fact, if the other musician was as eagerly responsive to everything as he had been to one kiss, this would be a night Rob would remember for a long, long time.
"Red it is. Don't forget that you can use yellow for a temporary halt, too, okay?" At his nod, Rob continued, "On the bed with you then, boy."
Boy. Billie had never been called that, at least not in sex play, and he wasn't sure if he found it hot or irritating. It had been said so matter-of-factly that it didn't bother him, exactly, but spoken another way he could see it maybe getting under his skin.
He swore, startled, when the flat of Rob's hand connected with his butt cheek. What the fuck was that for? He twisted to look back. "I'm not really into that, so you know."
The other man nodded. "Noted." He motioned for Billie to move onto the bed and he turned, climbing up and crawling forward only a little before hands around his ankles halted his progress with his toes still dangling off the edge. "That's far enough. Present."
The command slithered across his skin, setting something curling low in his abdomen even as the peremptory tone sparked annoyance. But he had agreed to this now, however ambushed he'd been to begin with, and so Billie Joe slowly lowered his torso until his cheek rested against the muted swirl of the bedspread, his forearms braced on either side of his head. He straightened his thighs from their crouch and moved his knees farther apart until he'd reprised his original position.
He had thought it felt vulnerable to pose like this before, waiting for Tré, Mike or both to come to him. It had been nothing compared to the avalanche of nerves now, intensified by the warm, easy grip on his ankles by a man he didn't know. He'd talked to Rob before, sure; shared space with him for various events and ceremonies over the years, even smoked with him. But he didn't really know him.
What had convinced him to go through with this, even more than that brain-melting kiss, had been Rob's talk of Tré. His drummer obviously knew this man - given the circumstances, had most likely fucked this man - and more importantly, he had trusted him with Billie. And when Tré himself had only become part of Billie and Mike's longstanding sexual relationship a year and a half ago, not nearly long enough to have overcome all insecurities, the fact that he had wanted Rob to step in for this experience spoke of a high level of trust indeed.
Billie Joe trusted Tré, and Tré trusted Rob. It was a simple enough equation when you looked at it that way. Of course, the anticipation thrumming through his whole body with every breath didn't hurt any. He liked being teased; always had. The thought of taking that to an extreme level excited him and challenged him, and he rarely backed down from a challenge.
Rob took his time to simply look. He'd left instructions that Billie was to shower thoroughly and, expecting his known lovers, the other musician hadn't bothered styling his hair. The tousled, curling mass partially concealed the bare face turned up on one side between his hands and the combination made him look very young, much the 'boy' Rob had called him. The seeming youth was framed by heavily inked forearms. He found Billie's tattoo pattern curious; most people who had sleeves, or nearly so, started them at the shoulders; his began at his wrists and traveled up arms well-muscled from playing guitar. It looked slightly unbalanced in nudity, but he had to admit that it would be a far better way to show them off while clothed.
Bent into a vulnerable position and stripped of the vibrating attitude, Billie was smaller than Rob had thought - about the same size as Paul, really. Almost delicate in his slenderness, though experience with his own drummer had long since taught Rob that the implied fragility was deceptive to say the least. And the faint outline of rib bones and spinal column against taut, pale flesh gave way to a gorgeously rounded ass, raised high and open and waiting.
To Part 2