Green Eyes Staring, Thin Lips Swearing
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Green Day
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,968
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Green Day
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,968
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Green Day. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Green Eyes Staring, Thin Lips Swearing
Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the guys of Green Day. I wish I were, but instead I must write slashy stories and be content with all the imaginary homemade porn. I make no money off of this story. I, however, get fruit baskets, slaves, and people willing to bear my children.
Song lyrics are mine.
Thank you so much! My reviewers are awesome, but a huge special thanks to Rebel_whatsername and Sarah (KarmaKiller). You guys totally made my day. I have a slave, a fruitbasket, and someone to bear my children. Thanks for the amazing reviews. I'm glad you liked my stuff.
A/N: I know I should really be starting the second part of "How We Got Here" but I'm in the mood for some seriously shmexy smut . . . heh . . .
Blue Eyes Staring, Thin Lips Swearing
"I-I didn't mean to." Those green eyes looked terrified behind fluttering eyelashes. "I . . . I just couldn't move."
"You're not going to tell anyone." Blue eyes were harsh, hiding a small flicker of fear.
Billie looked a little hurt at that. "Of course I'm not. That's your business, Mike. I wouldn't tell even if it was a ch--"
"Shut up!" Mike clamped his hand over Billie's mouth. "I don't ever want to talk about this again, okay?"
Billie nodded. "Okay." The sound was muffled and his moving lips tickled Mike's hand.
"Swear it." Mike slowly pulled his hand away from Billie's mouth. "Swear it."
"I swear." Billie walked to the door and looked back at his friend. "Chickenshit."
"I am--"
"Don't worry, Mike. It took me four years to get up the balls to tell you I was bi. I'll wait."
What the fuck? "What the hell does that mean?"
"I think you'll figure it out."
---
Billie went back to his hotel room and turned on the TV. He flipped lazily through the channels for a few minutes and then turned it off. He grabbed his journal and a pen off the table and lay down on his stomach on the bed.
He only got a few lines out on paper before he realized who he was writing about.
Big scary blue eyes staring into me
But you're still so blind to everything
And you lie to yourself
Sighing, Billie started doodling on another page, his thoughts drifting to his best friend. He and Mike had been friends for over twenty years now. They knew each other's secrets, or most of them. Billie had had suspicions about Mike's sexuality for a few years now, ever since he demanded Billie stop kissing him onstage. But Billie had kept his mouth shut, figuring Mike would tell him when he was ready.
But Mike was an idiot. He had just basically spelled out to Mike what his feelings were and the bass player had just stared at him like an idiot.
Because he was.
Unfortunately, that was part of the reason Billie was in love with him.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He'd been fighting off feelings for Mike since he was fifteen. He had never been able to get rid of them completely. Even when he was married to Addie. But he never would have cheated on her. He loved her so much, but there was always . . . someone . . . there was always Mike.
When they had divorced last year, it was almost a blessing. They kissed, signed the papers, hugged, and went their separate ways. He still loved her as much as he ever had, but she felt the strain. She knew. Can't hide anything from Addie.
Slowly, Billie's thoughts drifted back to Mike, to what Mike had been doing when Billie pushed open his door at four in the morning.
***FLASHBACK***
Billie sat up for the fifth time, looked at the clock, and cursed. Lately he hadn't been able to sleep except when he crawled in bed with Mike. He tried not to do that more than once or twice a week, but they had a show tomorrow and he hadn't slept more than an hour in the last few days.
He fished around in the dark for a shirt and pulled it on, then grabbed his card key and Mike's--which was on his dresser from the night before ("Just take the fucking key, Billie. You're in here all the time anyway.). He pushed the door open and crossed the hallway, slide Mike's card in and slowly pushed the door open.
He froze. Mike was on his knees, some guy's cock in his mouth. Billie didn't recognize the other guy. He barely recognized Mike.
He willed his hands to shut the door, his feet to move. He couldn't. His eyes were fixed on the scene. Mike's tongue was tracing patterns along this stranger's shaft. The stranger's hands were in Mike's hair, encouraging him to take more into his mouth.
Billie didn't know how long he stood there (a minute, an hour, a week) before the stranger erupted into Mike's mouth. The last thing he saw before he was finally able to shut the door, was Mike wiping come from his lips.
***END FLASHBACK***
Tears sprung into Billie's eyes. Why couldn't he tell me?
He realized how hard he was and cursed, sitting up. He didn't want to do this. Not now, not to Mike and some other guy. A cold shower. He walked into the bathroom and turned the water on. However, he seemed to think twice and adjusted it to warm instead.
He stripped and stepped into the jet of water. He ran his hands through his hair, then slowly trailed them down to his erection. His hand wrapped around it, as another braced against the wall to keep Billie from slipping in the water.
Closing his eyes, Billie imagined Mike . . . imagined Mike behind him, his calloused fingers stroking the hard on, his voice in Billie's ear. He imagined Mike sucking him the way he had sucked that other man, taking all of Billie in his mouth. The sexiest thing Billie had ever seen was Mike wiping those few drops of come from his mouth.
His breathing increased to moans, gasps, stifled screams. And in between those, he whispered his best friend's name over and over. Tears were running down his face, mixing with the water.
He hated this, hated the sex alone from frustration. All he wanted was Mike to know . . . to see.
Billie came with a strangled scream and a sob, then sank to the floor of the shower, crying as the water washed over him, taking his sins and trying to offer comfort.
---
Mike swore and turned the muted TV off. He knew Billie was over in his hotel room now, moping and thinking Mike was pissed at him. He really wasn't. He was more angry with himself than anything. He hadn't wanted Billie to see him like that, with some guy's cock in his mouth . . . some guy who's name he didn't even know.
Mike went into the bathroom and threw some water onto his face, then grabbed his card key and Billie's and left. However, he knocked on Billie's door. No answer.
Slowly, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Billie Joe wasn't on the bed, not on the couch Tre had complained about ("fucking leather, man"). Mike heard the shower running. He sighed and sat down on the bed, waiting for Billie to emerge. He saw the journal, but shut it.
Lately Billie Joe hadn't been up to sharing everything he wrote. Mike started when he heard the swearing and the pounding on the wall. His first instinct would be Billie was beating off and he would have left, but those weren't the right type of screams.
He stood up and walked to the bathroom, slowly turning the doorknob. Not locked. "Billie Joe? Billie, I'm coming in . . . okay?"
"No. God, Mike, go. Please. J-Just go . . ." Mike could hear sobs and swearing.
Against his better judgement, he pushed the door open. Billie was standing at the sink, pressing a towel Mike was pretty sure hadn't been red to begin with against his arm.
"What the fuck did you do?" Mike grabbed a clean towel and stared at Billie, who took it without a word. "Billie?"
"I didn't think it would bleed so much." Billie said softly.
"Why'd you cut it in the first place?" Mike demanded.
Billie hesitated. If he told the truth, Mike would blame himself. He didn't want that. It wasn't Mike's fault. Billie Joe just couldn't cope sometimes.
"I-I don't know. I just thought it would be a good idea."
Mike swore. "Fucking idiot." He pushed Billie onto the toilet and knelt, pulling the towel off Billie's arm. "How deep did you fucking cut? Vertical? Shit, man, that's not good."
"What's that mean?"
"Get some clothes on. I'm taking you to the hospital. You need stitches and fast."
"Mike-"
"Save it."
---
Billie Joe hated stitches. Not because of the needles (one only needed to look at his tattoos to see that) but because he hated seeing someone sew his skin back together.
"What did you use?"
"Razor."
Mike almost rolled his eyes. Leave it to Billie Joe to take no short stops on the way to drama.
"They have therapy for cutters." the doctor said.
"Thanks." Billie Joe snapped sarcastically. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Just finish stitching the damn cut."
Mike actually gave a weak smile at that. Billie Joe wouldn't cut again. He was sure of that. Billie wasn't one to repeat his mistakes.
---
Mike dragged Billie into his room and slammed him against the wall. "If you ever fucking consider that again, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. That was so fucking stupid, Billie Joe."
Billie stared at him for a moment, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Mike's neck, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. Mike started, then slowly began to respond to the kiss.
When they came up for breath, they stared at each other for a moment. "How long?" Mike finally whispered.
"Eighteen years." Billie said softly, turning his head to the side.
Mike smiled. "That long?"
Billie shrugged. "Yeah."
"I'm gay, Billie Joe." Mike said. "Not bi. I'm gay."
Billie looked at Mike and smiled. "Okay. What are you going to do about it?"
---
Mike shoved Billie Joe onto the bed and clamoured on top of him, claiming the smaller man's mouth with his own. God, he loved kissing Billie. The way he tasted, how soft his lips were, how he moved his tongue.
Billie's hands were running through his hair, down his bare back tracing invisible patterns.
Mike's hand slipped under Billie, grabbing his ass and loving the feeling of Billie moaning into their kiss. Slowly, that handed drifted lazily to Billie's hard-on. Billie jumped when Mike touched him.
Mike smirked and let his lips trail down to Billie's neck.
"M-Mike . . ."
---
Will be continued! I promise. Just give me tonight or something because I kinda froze up. I want to do some BDSM, so I'm thinking of ways to work that in.
Song lyrics are mine.
Thank you so much! My reviewers are awesome, but a huge special thanks to Rebel_whatsername and Sarah (KarmaKiller). You guys totally made my day. I have a slave, a fruitbasket, and someone to bear my children. Thanks for the amazing reviews. I'm glad you liked my stuff.
A/N: I know I should really be starting the second part of "How We Got Here" but I'm in the mood for some seriously shmexy smut . . . heh . . .
Blue Eyes Staring, Thin Lips Swearing
"I-I didn't mean to." Those green eyes looked terrified behind fluttering eyelashes. "I . . . I just couldn't move."
"You're not going to tell anyone." Blue eyes were harsh, hiding a small flicker of fear.
Billie looked a little hurt at that. "Of course I'm not. That's your business, Mike. I wouldn't tell even if it was a ch--"
"Shut up!" Mike clamped his hand over Billie's mouth. "I don't ever want to talk about this again, okay?"
Billie nodded. "Okay." The sound was muffled and his moving lips tickled Mike's hand.
"Swear it." Mike slowly pulled his hand away from Billie's mouth. "Swear it."
"I swear." Billie walked to the door and looked back at his friend. "Chickenshit."
"I am--"
"Don't worry, Mike. It took me four years to get up the balls to tell you I was bi. I'll wait."
What the fuck? "What the hell does that mean?"
"I think you'll figure it out."
---
Billie went back to his hotel room and turned on the TV. He flipped lazily through the channels for a few minutes and then turned it off. He grabbed his journal and a pen off the table and lay down on his stomach on the bed.
He only got a few lines out on paper before he realized who he was writing about.
Big scary blue eyes staring into me
But you're still so blind to everything
And you lie to yourself
Sighing, Billie started doodling on another page, his thoughts drifting to his best friend. He and Mike had been friends for over twenty years now. They knew each other's secrets, or most of them. Billie had had suspicions about Mike's sexuality for a few years now, ever since he demanded Billie stop kissing him onstage. But Billie had kept his mouth shut, figuring Mike would tell him when he was ready.
But Mike was an idiot. He had just basically spelled out to Mike what his feelings were and the bass player had just stared at him like an idiot.
Because he was.
Unfortunately, that was part of the reason Billie was in love with him.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He'd been fighting off feelings for Mike since he was fifteen. He had never been able to get rid of them completely. Even when he was married to Addie. But he never would have cheated on her. He loved her so much, but there was always . . . someone . . . there was always Mike.
When they had divorced last year, it was almost a blessing. They kissed, signed the papers, hugged, and went their separate ways. He still loved her as much as he ever had, but she felt the strain. She knew. Can't hide anything from Addie.
Slowly, Billie's thoughts drifted back to Mike, to what Mike had been doing when Billie pushed open his door at four in the morning.
***FLASHBACK***
Billie sat up for the fifth time, looked at the clock, and cursed. Lately he hadn't been able to sleep except when he crawled in bed with Mike. He tried not to do that more than once or twice a week, but they had a show tomorrow and he hadn't slept more than an hour in the last few days.
He fished around in the dark for a shirt and pulled it on, then grabbed his card key and Mike's--which was on his dresser from the night before ("Just take the fucking key, Billie. You're in here all the time anyway.). He pushed the door open and crossed the hallway, slide Mike's card in and slowly pushed the door open.
He froze. Mike was on his knees, some guy's cock in his mouth. Billie didn't recognize the other guy. He barely recognized Mike.
He willed his hands to shut the door, his feet to move. He couldn't. His eyes were fixed on the scene. Mike's tongue was tracing patterns along this stranger's shaft. The stranger's hands were in Mike's hair, encouraging him to take more into his mouth.
Billie didn't know how long he stood there (a minute, an hour, a week) before the stranger erupted into Mike's mouth. The last thing he saw before he was finally able to shut the door, was Mike wiping come from his lips.
***END FLASHBACK***
Tears sprung into Billie's eyes. Why couldn't he tell me?
He realized how hard he was and cursed, sitting up. He didn't want to do this. Not now, not to Mike and some other guy. A cold shower. He walked into the bathroom and turned the water on. However, he seemed to think twice and adjusted it to warm instead.
He stripped and stepped into the jet of water. He ran his hands through his hair, then slowly trailed them down to his erection. His hand wrapped around it, as another braced against the wall to keep Billie from slipping in the water.
Closing his eyes, Billie imagined Mike . . . imagined Mike behind him, his calloused fingers stroking the hard on, his voice in Billie's ear. He imagined Mike sucking him the way he had sucked that other man, taking all of Billie in his mouth. The sexiest thing Billie had ever seen was Mike wiping those few drops of come from his mouth.
His breathing increased to moans, gasps, stifled screams. And in between those, he whispered his best friend's name over and over. Tears were running down his face, mixing with the water.
He hated this, hated the sex alone from frustration. All he wanted was Mike to know . . . to see.
Billie came with a strangled scream and a sob, then sank to the floor of the shower, crying as the water washed over him, taking his sins and trying to offer comfort.
---
Mike swore and turned the muted TV off. He knew Billie was over in his hotel room now, moping and thinking Mike was pissed at him. He really wasn't. He was more angry with himself than anything. He hadn't wanted Billie to see him like that, with some guy's cock in his mouth . . . some guy who's name he didn't even know.
Mike went into the bathroom and threw some water onto his face, then grabbed his card key and Billie's and left. However, he knocked on Billie's door. No answer.
Slowly, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Billie Joe wasn't on the bed, not on the couch Tre had complained about ("fucking leather, man"). Mike heard the shower running. He sighed and sat down on the bed, waiting for Billie to emerge. He saw the journal, but shut it.
Lately Billie Joe hadn't been up to sharing everything he wrote. Mike started when he heard the swearing and the pounding on the wall. His first instinct would be Billie was beating off and he would have left, but those weren't the right type of screams.
He stood up and walked to the bathroom, slowly turning the doorknob. Not locked. "Billie Joe? Billie, I'm coming in . . . okay?"
"No. God, Mike, go. Please. J-Just go . . ." Mike could hear sobs and swearing.
Against his better judgement, he pushed the door open. Billie was standing at the sink, pressing a towel Mike was pretty sure hadn't been red to begin with against his arm.
"What the fuck did you do?" Mike grabbed a clean towel and stared at Billie, who took it without a word. "Billie?"
"I didn't think it would bleed so much." Billie said softly.
"Why'd you cut it in the first place?" Mike demanded.
Billie hesitated. If he told the truth, Mike would blame himself. He didn't want that. It wasn't Mike's fault. Billie Joe just couldn't cope sometimes.
"I-I don't know. I just thought it would be a good idea."
Mike swore. "Fucking idiot." He pushed Billie onto the toilet and knelt, pulling the towel off Billie's arm. "How deep did you fucking cut? Vertical? Shit, man, that's not good."
"What's that mean?"
"Get some clothes on. I'm taking you to the hospital. You need stitches and fast."
"Mike-"
"Save it."
---
Billie Joe hated stitches. Not because of the needles (one only needed to look at his tattoos to see that) but because he hated seeing someone sew his skin back together.
"What did you use?"
"Razor."
Mike almost rolled his eyes. Leave it to Billie Joe to take no short stops on the way to drama.
"They have therapy for cutters." the doctor said.
"Thanks." Billie Joe snapped sarcastically. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Just finish stitching the damn cut."
Mike actually gave a weak smile at that. Billie Joe wouldn't cut again. He was sure of that. Billie wasn't one to repeat his mistakes.
---
Mike dragged Billie into his room and slammed him against the wall. "If you ever fucking consider that again, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. That was so fucking stupid, Billie Joe."
Billie stared at him for a moment, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Mike's neck, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. Mike started, then slowly began to respond to the kiss.
When they came up for breath, they stared at each other for a moment. "How long?" Mike finally whispered.
"Eighteen years." Billie said softly, turning his head to the side.
Mike smiled. "That long?"
Billie shrugged. "Yeah."
"I'm gay, Billie Joe." Mike said. "Not bi. I'm gay."
Billie looked at Mike and smiled. "Okay. What are you going to do about it?"
---
Mike shoved Billie Joe onto the bed and clamoured on top of him, claiming the smaller man's mouth with his own. God, he loved kissing Billie. The way he tasted, how soft his lips were, how he moved his tongue.
Billie's hands were running through his hair, down his bare back tracing invisible patterns.
Mike's hand slipped under Billie, grabbing his ass and loving the feeling of Billie moaning into their kiss. Slowly, that handed drifted lazily to Billie's hard-on. Billie jumped when Mike touched him.
Mike smirked and let his lips trail down to Billie's neck.
"M-Mike . . ."
---
Will be continued! I promise. Just give me tonight or something because I kinda froze up. I want to do some BDSM, so I'm thinking of ways to work that in.