Downtown Whore 2: Cloud Up My Reasoning
Title: Downtown Whore 2: Cloud Up My Reasoning
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: 17: Anal plugs, for the 50kinkyways challenge
Word Count: 2,526
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. :-)
Part 1
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rob ignored the siren call and began by stroking his palms along Billie's sides, around to his belly, back, legs. Just a gentle glide of hands on skin, getting the boy used to the feel of him, relaxing him.
Billie gave in to the coaxing willingly enough, enjoying the soothing touch. He closed his eyes as it continued, muscles loosening, spine bowing as his body settled. He almost felt drowsy, except that each slow caress felt gradually stronger even while his brain argued that the applied pressure had not changed. His skin disagreed, all the fine hair lifting in the wake of Rob's hands, yearning after the contact. A studied lethargy set in. He couldn't summon the will to move but he wanted more - wanted the teasing glide of fingers along his belly to dip lower, wanted them to scratch and grab and push until he gasped.
Instead, he received one sudden, sharp slap, exactly over top of the previous one. He yelped in shock. "Jesus Christ, dude! Didn't I tell you no?"
"Relax. I needed you a little extra sensitive for a moment." The reassuring tone was accompanied by a hand stroking along his side, and then he felt a cool wetness dragged over the still-tingling skin of his backside. He had to admit that it felt good.
Until he recognized the scent of permanent marker. "Fuck me, what did you just write on me? What is it?" Billie tried to twist around to see, even knowing it would be almost impossible, but found himself pushed down, Rob folded over his back, pinning him where he knelt.
"Did I say you could move, boy?"
He squirmed slightly, not wanting to acknowledge that the reprimand made him hot. "What the fuck is with calling me 'boy?'"
Rob chuckled, feeling the nervous interest from the boy under him. "It's common in scenes for the submissive partner to be called 'boy' or something similarly impersonal. Usually my partners call me 'Sir' in return." Or 'Master,' if it's Paul, he thought, but didn't say. He'd phrased what he did say very carefully, because the submitting part might well turn out to be difficult for Billie. Mentally, anyway. He had more than enough experience to judge that the boy's body had no problems with the situation at all.
"You have got to be shitting me. 'Sir?' No fucking way."
He laughed at the aggrieved tone. "You'll notice I didn't bother asking you about it."
A rueful snort greeted that. "Point taken. All right, I can live with 'boy.' God knows I'm short enough to pass as one."
Beautiful enough to pass as a girl, though, especially with that curvy bottom. That observation was definitely staying inside Rob's head. Aloud, he drawled, "Good boy," his voice deepening with mirth at the indelicate sound Billie Joe made. "And I didn't write anything per se. I drew my logo."
"Your what?" Billie tried to remember a logo, but thinking about it reminded him of where it was supposedly drawn, and he was all too aware of the slide of Rob's textured shirt against his bare skin and how much more acutely he could feel it where he'd been slapped. It was almost like touching a healing tattoo; so much more sensitive to friction. He filed the thought away for later as an image came to mind. "Wait, that Rt thing in a circle? You drew that on me. Fucking hell."
He attempted to wiggle free, pissed again, but abruptly Rob's full weight bore down on him, his hands gripping Billie's forearms and pressing the smaller man into the mattress. Billie grunted as air was forcibly expelled from his lungs, unable to move his head away from the silken voice by his ear.
"Bothers you, huh? Pop star's mark on your punk rock ass. Yeah, it pisses you off. That's too fucking bad, boy, because that ass is mine tonight and if I want to cover it in ink, I will." His tongue snaked out, licking the captive ear. "You're my boy right now."
Billie inhaled sharply, head spinning at the total control in the words. He stopped struggling and went very still at how his cock twitched eagerly in response. He had agreed to this for a reason, because he wanted to learn if it was something he truly enjoyed or not. He'd role-played before and liked it well enough, but rarely had he ventured into anything beyond the most casual aspects of domination and submission, and those times had been very long ago indeed. So while 'enjoy' might not be the precise term he was looking for to describe how he felt right now, he couldn't deny that he was really fucking turned on.
He took a deep breath - as deep as he could manage with someone on top of him, anyway - and consciously relaxed, reaching for the lassitude that had muffled everything before Rob had gone all kindergarten on his ass, literally. His palms flattened on the bedspread as his fists unclenched and his back gentled into a smooth curve.
Rob felt the change before he saw Billie relax and relief swept through him; he'd thought that maybe he'd pushed too hard, too soon. He whispered, "Thank you," and slid down the boy's nude body, keeping in contact as he moved until he found the fresh mark on slightly reddened skin and traced it with his tongue.
His hands enclosed one muscular thigh, palms sliding up and down suggestively as he licked, trailing moisture up to the dip at the small of Billie's back, teeth lightly scraping his spine. More wet kisses across to his other hip and down, hands moving to stroke that thigh while Rob tasted the perfect curvature.
He wasn't making a secret of his eventual destination, only how long it would take to get there, and he could hear Billie's breathing become more labored as he continued to paint the man's skin with saliva. No other sounds, though, and casting his mind back to Tré's assertion that his frontman was a vocal sort, Rob grinned. A subtle rebellion on Billie's part, then. If it made him more comfortable, Rob was not about to interfere.
For now. By the time he allowed the punk rocker to come, Billie Joe would be screaming.
Billie choked down a moan as warm hands moved to cover his hips and Rob's mouth began teasing along the edges of his cleft. Sound was the one thing still under his control and so he was determined to make as little noise as possible. Petty, maybe, but it felt like a lifeline while he drowned in wanting.
He didn't think he'd ever had this much undivided attention paid to his rear end and the agonizing anticipation had him glad that he was already bent into a stable position, because he surely would not have been able to keep his balance otherwise. The first note of a high-pitched whine escaped as fingers finally spread him wide and Rob took one slow lick along the length of the exposed flesh.
The rest he managed to swallow, though he could do nothing about the way his breath came in pants as a tongue feathered delicate strokes in a circle just outside the most sensitive skin of his opening. The answering throb in his cock barely rated any attention as his body vibrated, waiting for full contact.
Rob heard the aborted whine and held back a smile. Boy was only fighting himself. He continued the teasing licks so close to where Billie needed them and brought his hands into play, one fondling his balls and the other his perineum, fingernails lightly scratching.
More choked, desperate breathing and nothing else. Give me some noise, boy, and I'll give you what you want. He flattened his tongue right over Billie's pucker, feeling the muscles jump and quiver, knowing that the too-soft surface and too-light pressure would increase the need and then, figuring that anyone with that many tattoos wouldn't be averse to a little pain, Rob squeezed his balls, not too hard, and pinched at the tight skin underneath them.
Oh holy shit. Billie groaned in frustration, the low growl slipping past his guard and transforming into a full-throated moan as the first sound was greeted with a wet thrust, saliva-slick muscle pushing inside him to wriggle and dance.
His hips pushed back on instinct and Rob's hands covered them, holding him still while that wicked tongue fucked him. A memory drifted fuzzily of a party a few years ago when they'd all been wasted and he'd seen Rob take a drag of Tré's cigarette and then lick the side of his face. Mike had made some rude comment about how lucky Rob's wife must be and they'd laughed.
Billie wasn't laughing now. Nor was he when Rob pressed deeper, his tongue tap dancing in Billie's passage. All he could think was moremoremore and his knees shifted farther apart in an effort to open himself fully as he fisted the bedspread, mouth wide open to gulp in air.
That. That instinctive rock back, that silent beg for more; that was why Rob loved doing this. Nothing drove someone crazy faster than a good tongue-fucking, man or woman, and he'd learned a lot of tricks to make it even better. Like how curling his tongue gave the tip a wee bit more weight when he let it strike.
But he had bigger plans than just rimming for this man's ass, however lovely that was, and he maneuvered a small bag out from under the bed as he worked Billie into a frenzy, knowing the boy wouldn't even notice as Rob slicked his fingers with the lube he'd stashed there. He waited for a natural break in the rhythm - for another muffled whine - before he abruptly pulled off and thrust two fingers inside, pressing hard right at Billie's sweet spot.
He cried out, helpless to stay quiet at the unexpected penetration, the assault on his senses slowly submerging his instinct to rebel. Shamelessly he pushed down on Rob's fingers, his body eager for the burn as two fingers became three, twisting and scissoring inside him, stretching muscles gone liquid with wanting. He whimpered at their loss, pucker twitching as something else pressed against him, warm and hard.
Billie grunted as the head of the plug pushed in, trying to stay relaxed. "Fuck that's big."
"Yes, it is," Rob agreed, his own breath speeding up at the close-up sight of the large plug breaching the boy, glistening skin stretching around it. He twisted it as he pushed, feeding Billie the sensation of the rippled texture rubbing against him, smiling as he shuddered in response. Then it was in, securely held by the boy's body, and he rocked it forward lightly, smile widening at the sucked-in breath.
His own control was slipping a little at Billie Joe's uninhibited physical responses; the way he clung to the attempt at silence only made it hotter. Besides, it would be criminal to waste that sensual pout on mere breathing. Rob pushed the plug a little harder.
"You going to moan for me, boy?" His tone was deliberately provocative, and he grinned at the knee-jerk answer.
"Fuck off."
"Up on your elbows, then." He waited until Billie had complied before unzipping his pants, as slowly and loudly as possible.
I hope he's not expecting a good blowjob, because I can't focus worth a damn right now. The thought flitted through his mind and was gone as Rob moved onto the bed, his legs spreading to either side of Billie's knees as he slipped under him, black leather parted to expose his rigid cock, the wine color of his shirt in stark contrast to the soft whiteness of his belly.
Billie Joe could smell the musk of arousal mixed with the distinctive sharp richness of leather and he stopped thinking, licking his lips to coat them and dipping his head to take Rob in, a hushed moan brushing Rob's erection as the plug shifted inside Billie.
He sucked him down, gauging how much he could comfortably take, and then started a rhythm that had his whole body moving up and down, effectively fucking himself with the toy as his mouth worked convulsively.
Rob had no reason to practice vocal restraint and moaned freely at the sight of tousled black curls bobbing in his lap, the knowledge of why Billie's body rocked all together turning him on so goddamned much that it ached to feel those sweet, full lips stretched around him.
When his tension had built to a nice, high level, he fumbled in his pants pocket and drew out a small remote control, thumbing it to the lowest setting.
Billie stuttered to a halt at the unanticipated vibrations filling him, simply holding Rob's cock in his mouth in stunned arousal. He barely registered the snarled, "Did I say you could stop?"
But he definitely noticed the result of his lack of reply as the vibration level was kicked all the way up to high, and he opened his mouth wide in a startled, wild, gasping moan that let the other man's erection slip out.
Rob didn't let his gleefulness show at all. Instead he scowled, pulling his body out from under Billie and scooting across the bed to the top, sitting up on his heels with his back resting against the headboard. "Come here, boy."
He didn't think Billie realized that he obeyed instantly, or that his method of arriving where Rob was at was to crawl. But arrive he did, and Rob drew him up for a biting kiss, knowing that every shift in position held him in buzzing ecstasy almost too strong to bear.
"Spread your legs wide and get good and balanced on your hands, boy. I'm going to fuck your mouth."
A slight frown crossed Billie's face; what was the difference between that and a blowjob? Nevertheless he arranged himself as told, unable to do anything else for the torturously sweet thrumming through his body.
He let out a shocked cry when Rob's first move was to bend down and flick a tiny switch on the cock ring Billie wore, adding a low level vibration directly on his erection to the sensation overwhelming him. Oh, God, too fucking much. If I don't come soon I'm gonna die.
He was unresisting when Rob gripped his hair, opening his mouth readily to accept his erection, and a moment later he understood what the other man had meant as he became the receptacle for Rob's smooth thrusts, his only contribution the tensing of his lips to create as tight a seal as possible.
Rob wasn't going to take much time to finish; that had been deliberate. He didn't want to bruise Billie's lips when he had a public appearance tomorrow. But watching his cock slide in and out of that pouty mouth, feeling the suppressed moans and listening to the plug drive the boy crazy soon made it an academic question as he climaxed with a soft groan, shooting right down that long, pale throat.
To Part 3
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: 17: Anal plugs, for the 50kinkyways challenge
Word Count: 2,526
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. :-)
Part 1
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rob ignored the siren call and began by stroking his palms along Billie's sides, around to his belly, back, legs. Just a gentle glide of hands on skin, getting the boy used to the feel of him, relaxing him.
Billie gave in to the coaxing willingly enough, enjoying the soothing touch. He closed his eyes as it continued, muscles loosening, spine bowing as his body settled. He almost felt drowsy, except that each slow caress felt gradually stronger even while his brain argued that the applied pressure had not changed. His skin disagreed, all the fine hair lifting in the wake of Rob's hands, yearning after the contact. A studied lethargy set in. He couldn't summon the will to move but he wanted more - wanted the teasing glide of fingers along his belly to dip lower, wanted them to scratch and grab and push until he gasped.
Instead, he received one sudden, sharp slap, exactly over top of the previous one. He yelped in shock. "Jesus Christ, dude! Didn't I tell you no?"
"Relax. I needed you a little extra sensitive for a moment." The reassuring tone was accompanied by a hand stroking along his side, and then he felt a cool wetness dragged over the still-tingling skin of his backside. He had to admit that it felt good.
Until he recognized the scent of permanent marker. "Fuck me, what did you just write on me? What is it?" Billie tried to twist around to see, even knowing it would be almost impossible, but found himself pushed down, Rob folded over his back, pinning him where he knelt.
"Did I say you could move, boy?"
He squirmed slightly, not wanting to acknowledge that the reprimand made him hot. "What the fuck is with calling me 'boy?'"
Rob chuckled, feeling the nervous interest from the boy under him. "It's common in scenes for the submissive partner to be called 'boy' or something similarly impersonal. Usually my partners call me 'Sir' in return." Or 'Master,' if it's Paul, he thought, but didn't say. He'd phrased what he did say very carefully, because the submitting part might well turn out to be difficult for Billie. Mentally, anyway. He had more than enough experience to judge that the boy's body had no problems with the situation at all.
"You have got to be shitting me. 'Sir?' No fucking way."
He laughed at the aggrieved tone. "You'll notice I didn't bother asking you about it."
A rueful snort greeted that. "Point taken. All right, I can live with 'boy.' God knows I'm short enough to pass as one."
Beautiful enough to pass as a girl, though, especially with that curvy bottom. That observation was definitely staying inside Rob's head. Aloud, he drawled, "Good boy," his voice deepening with mirth at the indelicate sound Billie Joe made. "And I didn't write anything per se. I drew my logo."
"Your what?" Billie tried to remember a logo, but thinking about it reminded him of where it was supposedly drawn, and he was all too aware of the slide of Rob's textured shirt against his bare skin and how much more acutely he could feel it where he'd been slapped. It was almost like touching a healing tattoo; so much more sensitive to friction. He filed the thought away for later as an image came to mind. "Wait, that Rt thing in a circle? You drew that on me. Fucking hell."
He attempted to wiggle free, pissed again, but abruptly Rob's full weight bore down on him, his hands gripping Billie's forearms and pressing the smaller man into the mattress. Billie grunted as air was forcibly expelled from his lungs, unable to move his head away from the silken voice by his ear.
"Bothers you, huh? Pop star's mark on your punk rock ass. Yeah, it pisses you off. That's too fucking bad, boy, because that ass is mine tonight and if I want to cover it in ink, I will." His tongue snaked out, licking the captive ear. "You're my boy right now."
Billie inhaled sharply, head spinning at the total control in the words. He stopped struggling and went very still at how his cock twitched eagerly in response. He had agreed to this for a reason, because he wanted to learn if it was something he truly enjoyed or not. He'd role-played before and liked it well enough, but rarely had he ventured into anything beyond the most casual aspects of domination and submission, and those times had been very long ago indeed. So while 'enjoy' might not be the precise term he was looking for to describe how he felt right now, he couldn't deny that he was really fucking turned on.
He took a deep breath - as deep as he could manage with someone on top of him, anyway - and consciously relaxed, reaching for the lassitude that had muffled everything before Rob had gone all kindergarten on his ass, literally. His palms flattened on the bedspread as his fists unclenched and his back gentled into a smooth curve.
Rob felt the change before he saw Billie relax and relief swept through him; he'd thought that maybe he'd pushed too hard, too soon. He whispered, "Thank you," and slid down the boy's nude body, keeping in contact as he moved until he found the fresh mark on slightly reddened skin and traced it with his tongue.
His hands enclosed one muscular thigh, palms sliding up and down suggestively as he licked, trailing moisture up to the dip at the small of Billie's back, teeth lightly scraping his spine. More wet kisses across to his other hip and down, hands moving to stroke that thigh while Rob tasted the perfect curvature.
He wasn't making a secret of his eventual destination, only how long it would take to get there, and he could hear Billie's breathing become more labored as he continued to paint the man's skin with saliva. No other sounds, though, and casting his mind back to Tré's assertion that his frontman was a vocal sort, Rob grinned. A subtle rebellion on Billie's part, then. If it made him more comfortable, Rob was not about to interfere.
For now. By the time he allowed the punk rocker to come, Billie Joe would be screaming.
Billie choked down a moan as warm hands moved to cover his hips and Rob's mouth began teasing along the edges of his cleft. Sound was the one thing still under his control and so he was determined to make as little noise as possible. Petty, maybe, but it felt like a lifeline while he drowned in wanting.
He didn't think he'd ever had this much undivided attention paid to his rear end and the agonizing anticipation had him glad that he was already bent into a stable position, because he surely would not have been able to keep his balance otherwise. The first note of a high-pitched whine escaped as fingers finally spread him wide and Rob took one slow lick along the length of the exposed flesh.
The rest he managed to swallow, though he could do nothing about the way his breath came in pants as a tongue feathered delicate strokes in a circle just outside the most sensitive skin of his opening. The answering throb in his cock barely rated any attention as his body vibrated, waiting for full contact.
Rob heard the aborted whine and held back a smile. Boy was only fighting himself. He continued the teasing licks so close to where Billie needed them and brought his hands into play, one fondling his balls and the other his perineum, fingernails lightly scratching.
More choked, desperate breathing and nothing else. Give me some noise, boy, and I'll give you what you want. He flattened his tongue right over Billie's pucker, feeling the muscles jump and quiver, knowing that the too-soft surface and too-light pressure would increase the need and then, figuring that anyone with that many tattoos wouldn't be averse to a little pain, Rob squeezed his balls, not too hard, and pinched at the tight skin underneath them.
Oh holy shit. Billie groaned in frustration, the low growl slipping past his guard and transforming into a full-throated moan as the first sound was greeted with a wet thrust, saliva-slick muscle pushing inside him to wriggle and dance.
His hips pushed back on instinct and Rob's hands covered them, holding him still while that wicked tongue fucked him. A memory drifted fuzzily of a party a few years ago when they'd all been wasted and he'd seen Rob take a drag of Tré's cigarette and then lick the side of his face. Mike had made some rude comment about how lucky Rob's wife must be and they'd laughed.
Billie wasn't laughing now. Nor was he when Rob pressed deeper, his tongue tap dancing in Billie's passage. All he could think was moremoremore and his knees shifted farther apart in an effort to open himself fully as he fisted the bedspread, mouth wide open to gulp in air.
That. That instinctive rock back, that silent beg for more; that was why Rob loved doing this. Nothing drove someone crazy faster than a good tongue-fucking, man or woman, and he'd learned a lot of tricks to make it even better. Like how curling his tongue gave the tip a wee bit more weight when he let it strike.
But he had bigger plans than just rimming for this man's ass, however lovely that was, and he maneuvered a small bag out from under the bed as he worked Billie into a frenzy, knowing the boy wouldn't even notice as Rob slicked his fingers with the lube he'd stashed there. He waited for a natural break in the rhythm - for another muffled whine - before he abruptly pulled off and thrust two fingers inside, pressing hard right at Billie's sweet spot.
He cried out, helpless to stay quiet at the unexpected penetration, the assault on his senses slowly submerging his instinct to rebel. Shamelessly he pushed down on Rob's fingers, his body eager for the burn as two fingers became three, twisting and scissoring inside him, stretching muscles gone liquid with wanting. He whimpered at their loss, pucker twitching as something else pressed against him, warm and hard.
Billie grunted as the head of the plug pushed in, trying to stay relaxed. "Fuck that's big."
"Yes, it is," Rob agreed, his own breath speeding up at the close-up sight of the large plug breaching the boy, glistening skin stretching around it. He twisted it as he pushed, feeding Billie the sensation of the rippled texture rubbing against him, smiling as he shuddered in response. Then it was in, securely held by the boy's body, and he rocked it forward lightly, smile widening at the sucked-in breath.
His own control was slipping a little at Billie Joe's uninhibited physical responses; the way he clung to the attempt at silence only made it hotter. Besides, it would be criminal to waste that sensual pout on mere breathing. Rob pushed the plug a little harder.
"You going to moan for me, boy?" His tone was deliberately provocative, and he grinned at the knee-jerk answer.
"Fuck off."
"Up on your elbows, then." He waited until Billie had complied before unzipping his pants, as slowly and loudly as possible.
I hope he's not expecting a good blowjob, because I can't focus worth a damn right now. The thought flitted through his mind and was gone as Rob moved onto the bed, his legs spreading to either side of Billie's knees as he slipped under him, black leather parted to expose his rigid cock, the wine color of his shirt in stark contrast to the soft whiteness of his belly.
Billie Joe could smell the musk of arousal mixed with the distinctive sharp richness of leather and he stopped thinking, licking his lips to coat them and dipping his head to take Rob in, a hushed moan brushing Rob's erection as the plug shifted inside Billie.
He sucked him down, gauging how much he could comfortably take, and then started a rhythm that had his whole body moving up and down, effectively fucking himself with the toy as his mouth worked convulsively.
Rob had no reason to practice vocal restraint and moaned freely at the sight of tousled black curls bobbing in his lap, the knowledge of why Billie's body rocked all together turning him on so goddamned much that it ached to feel those sweet, full lips stretched around him.
When his tension had built to a nice, high level, he fumbled in his pants pocket and drew out a small remote control, thumbing it to the lowest setting.
Billie stuttered to a halt at the unanticipated vibrations filling him, simply holding Rob's cock in his mouth in stunned arousal. He barely registered the snarled, "Did I say you could stop?"
But he definitely noticed the result of his lack of reply as the vibration level was kicked all the way up to high, and he opened his mouth wide in a startled, wild, gasping moan that let the other man's erection slip out.
Rob didn't let his gleefulness show at all. Instead he scowled, pulling his body out from under Billie and scooting across the bed to the top, sitting up on his heels with his back resting against the headboard. "Come here, boy."
He didn't think Billie realized that he obeyed instantly, or that his method of arriving where Rob was at was to crawl. But arrive he did, and Rob drew him up for a biting kiss, knowing that every shift in position held him in buzzing ecstasy almost too strong to bear.
"Spread your legs wide and get good and balanced on your hands, boy. I'm going to fuck your mouth."
A slight frown crossed Billie's face; what was the difference between that and a blowjob? Nevertheless he arranged himself as told, unable to do anything else for the torturously sweet thrumming through his body.
He let out a shocked cry when Rob's first move was to bend down and flick a tiny switch on the cock ring Billie wore, adding a low level vibration directly on his erection to the sensation overwhelming him. Oh, God, too fucking much. If I don't come soon I'm gonna die.
He was unresisting when Rob gripped his hair, opening his mouth readily to accept his erection, and a moment later he understood what the other man had meant as he became the receptacle for Rob's smooth thrusts, his only contribution the tensing of his lips to create as tight a seal as possible.
Rob wasn't going to take much time to finish; that had been deliberate. He didn't want to bruise Billie's lips when he had a public appearance tomorrow. But watching his cock slide in and out of that pouty mouth, feeling the suppressed moans and listening to the plug drive the boy crazy soon made it an academic question as he climaxed with a soft groan, shooting right down that long, pale throat.
To Part 3