Ten Things Mike Dirnt Taught Me About Life & Love

Disclaimer: Don't know, own, or screw any members of Green Day. As far as I know they don't screw each other. Meaning this never happened. And I don't make any money. I know because I only have enough for two more packs of cigarettes. Song is owned by Lea Salonga. (And I have no idea who the fuck that is, but the lyrics worked.)

A/N: It's AU, as usual. No Adie, no kids, no divorces.

And I know it's seems not smutty at first, but just wait. I got really into later scenes. ::giggle::

Ten Things Mike Dirnt Taught Me About Life and Love

And we're bound to be learning
The lessons of love
Coz we're never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love

Lesson One: The only good sex is a fuck.

He kisses left my lips swollen and bruises. His hands made quick work of my shirt and pants. He slid my boxers off last and quickly removed his own clothes.

He thrust a saliva coated finger into me followed quickly by a second. He stretched me with a scissoring motion and I gasp. Fuck, that feels so good.

He spits in his hand and coats himself, then enters me in one slow motion. He doesn't really wait before he starts moving inside me. It hurts but the pain quickly turns into pleasure. I'm yelling and cursing. He's moaning and his breathing's fast and hard.

This is a fuck. A quickie before the show. And I'd take this to making love anyday.

*

Lesson Two: Decaf is the anti-christ.

We were out of regular coffee that morning. Mike was in the shower, so I dug around until I found the decaf I nurse insomnia with. I mean, you can't tell the difference by flavor, can you?

He came into the kitchen in pants and socks just as the pot finished brewing. "Coffee!" He kisses my cheek and grabbed a mug from the dishwasher.

One swallow and he glared at me. "Decaf?"

"We were out of regular." I explained.

"Decaf is the anti-christ." he said. "Come here, Billie Joe."

It was a weird request, but I moved closer to him. "What?"

He kissed me, slipping his tongue in my mouth. When we went to break the kiss, his teeth tugged on my bottom lip. It hurt, but no a lot. It was kind of kinky actually. I could feel myself getting hard.

He pulled away and smirked. "You better take care of that." He grabbed the car keys and the shirt he left on the couch the night before.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

"To get more coffee. And you better not ever give me decaf again."

*

Lesson Three: There are a million different ways to say I love you.

The sex was great. Well, the sex is never bad, but it was great that night. He was behind me after, arms wrapped around my waist. I think we laid there in silence for about thirty minutes. I was falling asleep when he finally said something.

"Billie Joe?"

"Hmmm?"

"If I were a woman, I'd have your children."

"If you were a woman I don't think we'd be sleeping together."

"All the same." There was a pause.

"I love you, too."

*

Lesson Four: Swallowing doesn't mean 'I love you' and spitting doesn't mean the opposite.

It was the first time I'd given Mike head. Not the first time I'd given head, but my first time with Mike.

And I'm pretty damn good at giving head. (Not that I'd know from experience; that's Tre's department.) But I've gotten great head and they still scream louder then me even when I'm not up to par.

I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, occasionally flicking my tongue over the slit. his hands threaded into my hair as I started edging my open mouth further and further, until finally I could feel him against the back of my throat.

He was cursing, muttering my name, going breathless at times. When he arched his back, I prepared myself for the only part of giving a blowjob I didn't like:

Swallowing.

I think he saw the face I made because afterward he kissed me and handed me a half empty beer from the nightstand.

"You know, you can spit next time or just move your mouth away." he said.

I just sort of stared at him. "But . . . don't you like it when I swallow?"

"Not if you don't."

"But swallowing means I love you."

"Bullshit." He kissed my forehead. "Not making someone swallow means I love you."

"But you swallow!" I protested.

He grinned. "Yeah, but you taste good."

*

Lesson Five: Vibrators can be used an an interrogation method.

Mike was late to the party and caught me . . . well, cheating is the wrong word. I guess dicktease or whoring flirt both work. No kisses. I only do that onstage.

But there was a lot of dirty dancing involving grinding front to front and front to back. And sometimes the person I was dancing with would grab my ass and while I didn't retun the favor, I didn't ward off their cheap advances.

And Mike wasn't really made. But it gave him a chance to 'punish' me, so he wasn't going to wave it off.

I had just finished a dance with some guy who seemed to be especially interested in my ass. (Insert coy wink here.) And when I turned around, Mike was there with his arms crossed. "Well, we're just a horny little slut tonight, aren't we?"

I chanced a smile when I saw his eyes were their normal colour. "I missed you."

"So you let strange men grab your ass?" His eyebrows were raised.

"I love you?"

"So cute." He grabbed my hand and pulled me out to the car. "You think you're a sneaky little bit, don't you?" He reached over and placed his hand on the crotch of my pants. "And you're hard. What am I going to do with you?"

I wasn't completely hard before, but the heat in Mike's voice finished the job.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair. "I want you to suck my cock." he said. "But don't finish." he added. "Can't have you spitting in the car."

Slowly I reached over and undid the fly of his pants. He wasn't wearing any underwear and he was hard as a rock. I undid my seat belt and leaned across the seat slowly taking him into my mouth. I'd never given road head before.

I knew I was getting to him even though he tried to hide it. His breathing was jagged. He brought one hand off the steering wheel to place it on the back of my head.

Then, he stopped the car and I knew we were home. I finished his blowjob in the kitchen, spitting into the sink when I finished. He did up his pants and pushed my forward. "Upstairs. Now."

He lead me to the bedroom where he wasted no time stripping me. He pushed me down on the bed and opened the drawer in the nightstand. We have a four poster bed. (I kind of have a thing for the drapes.) And those four posters were about to be put to good use.

"Close your eyes." When I did, he put a blindfold on me. I felt the metal on my wrists. Both were now held above my head, fastened securely to the headboard. He didn't use handcuffs on my ankles. He used some kind of cloth to tie them to the posters at the end of the bed.

I felt a finger slicked with a cold lubricant push inside me, then another. And another. I gasped at the pressure from the third finger. We had only used two up to that point.

"Hold still, okay?" he said, removing his fingers.

That's when I felt him slip the vibrator inside of me. He pushed it in to the hilt and then turned it on. I moaned. "Mike . . ."

"I'm here." he said simply. "And if you talk without permission again, you're getting gagged."

I knew he wouldn't, but I kept my mouth shut all the same. (I hate being gagged.)

"Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer. If you lie or don't answer, you'll get an hour tied to the bed like this."

Fuck, this was kinky.

"How many guys did you dance with?"

I tried to figure it out in my head. "About twenty?"

"How many grabbed your ass?" he asked.

"About fifteen." I answered.

"How many of them did you grab?"

"None." I answered promptly.

His voice was low. "You'd better not be lying to me, Billie Joe."

"I'm not. Honest. You know I wouldn't." He believed me, right?

"Okay. Any kisses happen tonight?"

He angeled the vibrator a little bitt lower and I swore. Right there! Oh fuck, he was evil.

"One guy kissed my cheek." I managed to get out through my moaning.

"Did you kiss anyone?"

I bit my lip. I was going to come if he didn't turn the damn thing off. I shook my head in response to his question.

"Say it, Billie Joe."

"No . . . oh, fuck!" I tried to arch my back, but the metal dug into my wrists.

"Why were you acting like such a little slut?" There was a heat in his voice. A kind of dangerous heat that wasn't there for the other questions.

I was blushing I knew. "I . . . it felt good. It turned me on." I mumbled.

I felt his breath against my ear. "That's fine. It turned me on, too."

He thrusted the vibrator in and out of me. It only took a handful of thrust to make me come.

He unties me promptly and kisses my mouth. "So . . . you're not mad?"

"No." He laughs. "But you should have seen yourself squirming on the bed."

*

Lesson Six: Kitchen appliances are dangerous.

I wanted a smoothie. I wanted one like a woman wants chocolate. Mike was asleep though and I didn't want to wake him up. And pathetic as it was, I'd never used a blender before.

Well, I dropped the spoon in the blender after I'd already put the milk and ice cream in. So I reached in to get it and I cut my finger on the blade.

"Fuck!" God dammit did that hurt. I pulled my hand out and pressed a paper towel to the cut as Mike flew down the stairs.

"Billie? You okay?"

"I cut my finger." I whispered. I know I sounded like a fucking pussy, but it hurt.

He pulled the paper towel from my finger and looked at the cut. "It's not that deep."

"It hurts."

"You want me to kiss it and make it better?" He brought my finger to his mouth, but instead of kissing it, he opened his mouth and started sucking on it.

It was one of the sweetest most erotic things I've ever experienced. He kept my finger in his mouth until it stopped bleeding. Then he kissed it and lead me to the bathroom so he could pour peroxide on it.

Mike can be the sweetest guy in the world when he wants to be.

*

Lesson Seven: It's okay to say no.

I really, really didn't want to try the whole pain thing. You know, paddles and biting just enough to draw blood and no preparation and holding in your orgasm until it hurts.

Mike wanted to try it. He asked me for two weeks if I was okay with it and I said yes every time. He believed me. Why wouldn't he? I don't lie to him.

So I was kneeling on all fours on the bed and he brought that wooden paddle down and I screamed bloody murder and tears were rolling down my cheeks. Not because the pain was that bad, but because Mike wanted this and I fucked it up.

"Billie Joe?" He turned me around to face him. "Fuck. Sit up." I did slowly, wincing a little. "You didn't want to." he stated.

Slowly, I shook my head, still crying.

He wiped at my face and sat down, pullign me to his chest and kissing my forehead. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"You wanted to."

"Billie, I don't ever want to do anything that you don't. When you don't tell me no I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"You're not." I wiped at my eyes. "I just wanted you to like it. You wanted to."

"Not if you don't." he said again. "It's okay to say no. I won't get mad."

"Are you mad now?" I asked.

"No." he said. "I wish you wouldn't have done that, though."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just tell me no next time, okay?"

I nod. "Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

*

Lesson Eight: Porn is the second coming of Christ (pun intended).

Of course, like most typical men, I was slightly addicted to porn by the age of fifteen. But being int he closet, I considered the men's underwear section of the Penney's catalouge to be porn.

By the time I was seventeen, I was sneaking into my mom's closet and watching the videos in our basement, pretending it wasn't a girl sucking that guy off.

I was nineteen before I actually had the balls to order a video through the mail.

But Mike treated porn like the gay Karma Sutra. We'd watch and then he would mimic the actors. It was a little weird at first, but that quickly changed.

Porn shots were hot, so obviously the sex was hot. Therefore, when we copied the actors, our sex was hot. And we never muted the TV. So there were always two, and sometimes three, extra voices in the room moaning and screaming.

Apparently Tre came into the house unannounced once and heard about five different voices from our bedroom. The next day he asked us how the gangbang went.

*

Lesson Nine: Don't say I love you until you mean it.

Mike loved me from the beginning and he told me so. Then I stammered back, "I-I love you . . . too."

He just sort of looked at me. I think he was trying not to roll his eyes. "Don't say it unless you mean it."

"But I--"

"It's fine." he said. "You don't have to say it back. Not everyone comes into a relationship madly in love. It takes time."

It took three weeks.

*

Lesson Ten: when you're in love with someone so much that you laugh and cry in unision; you feel hot and cold at the same time; and you know they're The One (no matter how sickingly cliche it is) . . .

Propose.

And he said yes.

---

Brainstorm. I loved this idea. It just sort of popped into my head. What do you guys think? And I know the sex could have been hotter, but I was surrounded by sixth graders and I didn't want to write anything TOO profane.