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“You should’ve seen your face….”
“My face?” Billie Joe giggled into warm skin, then backed out of it to share his amused grin with his lover. “You should’ve seen your face, man. Thought you were so excited you were gonna burst earlier, on our way here. Like a little kid or something.”
Mike chuckled in acknowledgement as glimmering green eyes once again disappeared into his neck, and he tilted his head to the side to give Billie more room to work with. “I couldn’t help it. I’ve been keeping this a secret for awhile, couldn’t wait for you to see it. Knew you’d love it.”
“I do. Surprised the hell out of me, too.”
“That was the idea.” Mike let his head fall back against cushioned vinyl, eyes scanning what they could of a basically abandoned stadium parking lot, illuminated in fluorescent light. They were cuddled up in the roomy backseat of the Mustang, Billie half in his lap as he kissed deeply at his throat. In the distance, Mike could see their trailers and a couple of their security staff loping about, but they’d parked the car at the edge of the lot where the light didn’t touch. Anyway, he wasn’t worried about it; their security had seen it all before, and Billie Joe felt so good against him, his skin soft to the touch underneath his baggy red button-down, not to mention the teeth grazing lightly just under his jawline. “Mmmm… feels good, but easy. If you send me home marked up, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Billie frowned, but he lightened up, just a tad. “Fuck that. It’s my birthday.”
“Your birthday isn’t till next week.”
“Then why’d you give me my present today?”
“Because the timing was better.”
Biting back an irritated sigh, Billie relented fully and dragged his nose down the tendon in Mike’s neck, and his forehead eventually came to rest on his sharp collarbone. His eyes closed as one of Mike’s hands tangled in his hair, lips skimming the top of his head, and he thought about how love truly was so often a choice, at least in the selfless terms. Billie Joe’s heart had been a certain bassist’s headlock since he was a teenager, and thirty-some years later, little had changed except for the battles he chose to fight. And the ones he didn’t. “Fifty, man,” Billie murmured, a bid to change the subject to something else weighing on his mind. “How did we get here?”
“One year at a time,” Mike replied, and Billie’s silence was poignant. It made his throat feel a little thicker. Mike wasn’t sure, exactly, how many times he’d come close to losing Billie Joe over the years, to depression and addiction and the pitfalls that came with it, but there had definitely been a time he’d been afraid he’d reached fifty himself without his best friend by his side. Now, he didn’t worry about that so much, and he could only be grateful. “Good thing you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
That one did get Billie to snort. “Get the fuck outta here,” he said, lifting his head at the same time he dug his hand into Mike’s ribs.
“Hey—hey, no tickling ,” Mike spluttered, even as Billie persisted, grinning toothily at the response his efforts were yielding. The bassist was a ticklish motherfucker, and Billie Joe knew exactly where to get at him after so many years of practice. “Alright—alright, that’s enough, short stuff.” There was an underlying growl to Mike’s words as he took Billie’s wrist by force, holding it up to his mouth as blue eyes honed in a playful glare on the frontman’s amused face. “You should know better by now than to fuck around with someone twice your size.”
“Twice my size? Yeah, right, maybe in your pants….”
“That should be all that matters, shouldn’t it?” Mike was being seductive now, amplified by the way he drew Billie’s wrist closer to kiss it, nipping inked skin as an afterthought that turned green eyes a shade darker. “Don’t make me give you your birthday spankings early….”
Eyes briefly widening, Billie Joe countered, “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Do I get fifty of them?”
The hand that had never left its place, flattened in the dip of Billie’s spine and linked to the arm wound tight around the man’s waist, drifted down to cup his ass, squeezing through the striped pants he was wearing. “That’s how the game works,” Mike muttered, half-smirking at the hard twitch he could feel on his thigh, where Billie’s erection had been pressing into him since they’d climbed into the backseat of the car.
“Does that mean I’ll get a hundred of them in another fifty years?”
They were both giggling, but Mike’s laughter faded into a wistful sigh as he released Billie Joe’s wrist so his hand was free to brush wayward curls from the frontman’s face. “God, I hope so, B,” he said, using a nickname only he had for Billie that he rarely invoked. It meant Mike was feeling particularly amorous, and he appreciated the way it deepened the red glow in a pair of rounded cheeks. Rounded like the ones behind Billie that he continued to palm in intimate handfuls, contradictory to the fond way he tugged at the dyed blonde locks at his friend’s temple. “If I’m still alive and able to spank your wrinkly ass in another fifty years, I’ll know for sure I’m the luckiest bastard that ever lived.”
“Consider it my new long term goal,” Billie Joe murmured, and he used the newfound freedom of his left hand to lay it on Mike’s face, thumbing the pale stubble there. A hundred seemed impossible in practice, but it was amazing how young he could still feel joking around with his childhood best friend, looking into twinkling blue eyes that hadn’t changed. “Are you gonna kiss me, or what?”
“I did kiss you,” Mike answered, as amused as Billie was earlier, but he still leaned in to press another one to waiting pink lips. It’s not like he was one to pass up kissing his longest lover; he would take as many as were available to him. “I kissed you there… and here… and here….” From Billie’s mouth, Mike trailed a slow path along his jaw until he reached his earlobe, which he decided to nibble after kissing that, too. “Where else do you want me to kiss you?”
“Everywhere,” Billie Joe whispered, because it was honest. They didn’t get much time for stuff like this anymore, especially off the road, and a one-off gig in Los Angeles meant the family was close by—Mike’s family, in particular, meaning his wife, but that was something he spent as little time thinking about as possible. Adrienne, Billie didn’t worry about. She knew where he was, who he was with, what they might do… Perhaps she’d exercise some of the power she had over them both later, but that was just something to look forward to. And God, did Mike’s hands feel good, groping him through his pants, and Billie’s lashes fluttered, his mouth slowly falling open when Mike heeded his request and started dropping the kisses lower, down his flushed neck. “I did mean that literally, so that’s a good start,” he mumbled in between shaky pulls for air.
“If you want it everywhere, I think we’re gonna have to move this to a different venue,” Mike said but kept going anyway, tugging aside the collar to Billie Joe’s shirt for more access to his chest. The fact that it was already opened two buttons helped him, and wetly, he mouthed scripted ink, the whole reason Billie wore the shirt that way to begin with; he loved showing that one off. “Not exactly room to kiss you everywhere in here, Beej.”
“Not with that attitude, there’s not. No, it’s gotta be here, Mikey. Gotta christen her. Just like old times, you know?” Billie bit his lip and fisted peroxide hair as Mike’s tongue found his nipple, craning his neck to watch him do it. Right on time, his cock twitched in his pants, and other things did, too.
“Do you know how much time that chick put into detailing the interior of this car? If she found out we were even thinking about fucking in here, she’d probably sue me to get it back.”
“Disagree.” When Mike raised his head, brow furrowed, Billie Joe expounded, “She’d probably think it was hot.”
It got a snort out of Mike, and he went back to what he was doing. “Yeah,” he murmured, in between continuous teasing of Billie’s left nipple, “how old do you think she is? Doubt she’d get off on two geriatric rockstars blowing each other in the back of the classic Mustang she spent so much time making perfect. For your birthday.”
Billie frowned out of the back window beyond Mike’s ducked head, but it wasn’t because Mike was calling into question how hot they were when fucking, or the fact that he’d called them geriatric (there wasn’t room for that in his head right now), or even the reminder that, however old she was, she was way too young for them these days. No, he frowned at a different assumption Mike was making. “Blowing each other? That’s not how we christen cars, man.”
Mike leaned back again, eyebrows now raised. “What did you have in mind?”
Simply because he got a thrill out of catching Mike off guard, Billie Joe took his friend’s face between his hands suddenly and drew their mouths together for a blistering kiss, his tongue immediately knocking at the door for entrance by way of Mike’s surprised lips. He moved as he did it, the abrupt assault making Mike more pliant to his advances, and he slid over Mike’s lap to straddle him. “I’ll give you one guess,” Billie panted, breathless from the heat of the kiss, ass bobbing on the bassist’s thighs as he pressed their foreheads together.
“ That’s what you wanna do?” Mike asked, though his palms returned to Billie’s ass of their own accord. A gravitational pull, maybe.
“It’s what I always wanna do, and you’re surprised?”
“I guess not,” Mike chuckled, stealing a couple more kisses from swollen lips. “I don’t have anything on me, though, Bill,” he said, not without regret, and he was rubbing Billie Joe’s ass as if to apologize to it. “And the car….”
Rolling his eyes, Billie pushed himself up with the aid of Mike’s strong shoulder to steady him, enough to dig his other hand into his pocket. “Is there ever a time when I'm not prepared?” He countered, two sachets of KY in his palm. “No condom, but we don’t need that, right?”
“Of course not, Billie, Jesus.” Mike almost scowled at the question, and the way it was posed, but caught himself. The last thing he wanted to do was bicker with Billie Joe. It was funny, how much they acted like an old married couple sometimes, but then again, Mike supposed that’s basically what they were, forty years on. Forty years… He sighed. Defeat was inevitable when Billie really wanted something, but still, “The car , man—“
“It’s my fucking car, isn’t it? My rules, and I say it’s okay to fuck in.” Billie didn’t want to snap any more than he wanted to be snapped at, so he switched course, manipulating his lips into a pout. “We’ll be very careful,” he reasoned, voice soft, arms winding around Mike’s neck. “Not a drop of my bodily fluids will get on any upholstery.” Dropping his head, Billie Joe went for that special spot below Mike’s ear again as he added, “And you’re gonna come in my ass, so it’s basically a non-issue….”
A groan rumbled in Mike’s chest somewhere around come in my ass , which he continued massaging, and it was time to surrender. “You’re such a persuasive little shit. Okay, I give. We should be quick, though,” he amended, peering through the spotless windshield where their security was still pacing across the lot. “Don’t wanna get caught for indecency or some shit.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Billie smirked into Mike’s neck, but he was inwardly triumphant, guts clenching harder with the desire he’d been enduring for… hours . Ever since he’d been gifted one of the coolest, most extravagant things he’d ever gotten. Putting their lips back together for hungry kisses, his small, tattooed hands got to work unbuttoning Mike’s black jeans, reaching inside for the prize he was looking for. Reliably, Mike wasn’t wearing underwear, and Billie sighed into his lover’s open mouth. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Mike gasped, hips bucking as Billie Joe pulled his dick out of his pants and began stroking him. A teasing thumb circled the damp slit, and his head fell back against the seat. “But you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear to God.”
Giggling, Billie muttered, “I sure as hell hope not.” With Mike falling away, bringing an end to their kisses, he was able to see the erection he was playing with, so warm and firm in his grasp, and he bit his lip as he swiped pre-come from Mike’s cockhead for more of that natural lubrication. “God, I wanna taste you.”
“Well, you made a choice,” Mike choked, and he was already starting to worry he wasn’t going to last very long. Billie said things that made his mind spin, and it was all sort of getting to him, the magnitude of the moment. Mike couldn’t think about it too much. “Where’s that lube?” He asked, collecting enough of himself to lift his head, searching with his eyes at the same time for the packets he was looking for. Finding them forgotten on the bench seat beside him, Mike groped for them, and nodded downwards at Billie Joe. “Get your pants down.”
“Yes, sir.” Part of Billie’s plan for avoiding a mess to the extent that he was able meant hiking the pants down his thighs but his boxer briefs only enough to expose his ass. It kept his hard-on cradled in humid fabric, but that actually felt pretty okay and so did the warm air hitting his sensitive skin. Billie wiggled in Mike’s lap, asshole twitching, anxious for attention as he watched Mike tear open the lube with his teeth, squirting some on his delightfully long fingers.
The display of impatience made Mike smile, and his dry hand drew Billie Joe in for a kiss while the right snuck behind the frontman, rubbing the pads of his wet fingers over his hole. He chuckled faintly when Billie whimpered needfully into his mouth at the same time puckered skin quivered, and if they weren’t in the backseat of a classic Mustang in the parking lot of the Crypto Arena, or whatever the fuck it was, he probably could’ve teased Billie for a lot longer. Billie Joe made all sorts of pretty sounds when he was teased. Circumstances what they were didn’t allow for that, though, and Mike slipped two fingers inside searing heat, knowing the small man could take it, and his breath hitched at the way Billie’s rim clenched around him. Two small hands flew up to grab him for a deeper kiss, and Billie was putting those singer’s lungs to work, moaning long and steady. It was so sexy, Mike didn’t even care that Billie Joe stopped pumping his length to do it.
“Adie not giving you enough of the strap lately?” Mike asked once he was given the room to form words.
“No, she doesn’t like to do it as much anymore,” Billie whined, and he started fucking down on the wriggling presence in his body, face buried in Mike’s hair. Mike smelled like coffee and the ocean, and he wanted to drown in it. “Hurts her back and—and hips, fuck .”
Well, Mike could relate to that, but he’d be damned if that stopped him. Billie was one of the few people he knew who could fuck through anything at their age. Something about willpower… Tonight, Mike had that in spades, and he exhaled noisily when their combined efforts honed in on Billie Joe’s prostate. The reaction was a gasping cry that had him squeezing a soft asscheek in encouragement, prick throbbing in between them, against Billie’s still corralled by his underwear. “Jesus,” Mike swore in appreciation, “that good?”
“You have fucking magic fingers,” Billie replied, his voice strained in the effort to maintain a reasonable volume considering their environment. “I can’t do it like—like that myself… fu-u-u-uck —“
“I fucking missed you,” Mike growled suddenly, thrusting in a third finger and kissing his lover’s bare chest at the same time while blindly fumbling for the other sachet of KY. Seeing as Billie Joe was lost, and he was reluctant to end that for him, he was going to have to multi-task, and somehow, he managed. Of course Mike spilled some lube in places he didn’t want it, like their pants and shirts, but neither of them cared, and the important thing was, he didn’t get any on the car floors or seats. He aimed as much of it as he could at his shaft, and Billie found some wherewithal to help distribute it around its surface area with a few helpful pumps of his hand. “Oh, fuck ,” Mike choked, watching that tattooed hand glide up and down in glorious strokes. In combination with the sound Billie was wheezing into his ear, it could’ve been enough to send him over the edge, and he removed his fingers from Billie Joe’s asshole, fast but with control, to take hold of him at the thick thigh muscle just underneath the crease of his buttocks, lifting him up. “C’mon, now, Billie—“
Stomach turning over with a delicious combination of anticipation and desire, Billie nodded and dug his knees harder into the bench Mike was on, and held Mike’s cock steady so that he could impale himself down onto it. Mike helped him, hips slowly driving upwards, and with or without stretching and lube, it was going to burn, but God , did it burn so good. It had been way too long since Billie Joe had last been this full, and he had to force his lungs to breathe in a regular pattern, caught up in the simultaneous excitement and adjustment. He could hear Mike doing the same, and his hands cradled around Mike’s head again, tilting for a kiss as his best friend slid all the way home again, hot balls meeting the crack of his ass.
“God, you feel huge,” Billie muttered into Mike’s ear once his lips were next to it again, and they both chuckled, breathless. “In the best way,” he amended in a whisper and nuzzled his face into stubble and skin and hair, chills chasing down his spine at the way Mike was touching his ass and his hips, like they were something to worship.
“Yeah, well, you feel tight as hell,” Mike grunted, “in the best fucking way.” He tipped his head back, seeking another kiss, but he got sucked in by the intensity of a green-eyed stare instead. It could catch a guy off guard, sometimes, just how much emotion Billie could put in a look, how it could make you feel like the only person that mattered left on earth. Jarring but powerful, and Mike swallowed and skidded his hands upward to hug Billie Joe’s back, underneath his billowy top. “You gonna fuck me or what, Armstrong?” was the question he managed to get out, calling back the one Billie had asked him earlier and winning him an amorous grin.
“So I’m doing the work, huh?”
“This was your idea,” Mike pointed out, and his next works came through gritted teeth as Billie began to move, “and you’re technically on top.”
Billie Joe readjusted his grip on Mike’s taut shoulders, laughing a little bit as his head fell back, adding to the visual arc of his body. “Topping with a dick in my ass, the most I ever top….”
The thing was, Billie was a great top… with a dick in his ass. Had been from the first time they’d had sex, and he’d only improved with time in Mike’s view. There was something fluid about his movement, urgent without being frantic, eager and needy but in all the best ways, and it was the best goddamn view in the world. No amount of porn in the world could compare with the everyday fantasy he was lucky enough to live, that tender ass smacking lightly onto his tensed thighs, that tight hole sliding up and down his erection with finesse. They both still had most of their clothes on, but that just made it hotter, Mike thought, added to the thrill of this stolen fuck in Billie’s fiftieth birthday present.
Fifty… Tonight Billie Joe didn’t look fifty, and he certainly didn’t sound it either. The pitchy gasps and moans he was letting out were fueling Mike’s mounting climax, his glistening mouth hanging open to release them just centimeters in front of his face, and it was always the conundrum—wanting to kiss Billie stupid, but also wanting to hear and see him, getting the sexual gratification he endlessly craved. He chose just to watch this time; kissing he could leave for next time. There would always be a next time.
Suddenly, Billie leaned back in to touch their sweaty foreheads together, though his eyes were closed. “Feels so fuckin’ good,” he whispered, his swollen lips trembling. “You feel so fuckin’ good inside me, Mikey, god damn .”
It made Mike groan in the back of his throat, and he smoothed his hands downward, to squeeze the rounded cheeks bobbing in his lap. The soft flesh felt incredible under his touch, making his whole body throb, and he asked gruffly, “You want a preview of those birthday spankings?” Mike took the noisy way Billie Joe’s breath faltered as his response, and he drew his wrist just to snap it back, open palm slapping that beautiful ass and getting the most sensational cry out of Billie.
Starting to shake his head, renewed desperation crossing his features, Billie whined, “Can’t—can’t last, too good—“
“You and me both,” Mike interrupted, his voice sounding like gravel as he made a decision and snuck his hand into Billie Joe’s already sticky boxers to pull out his impressive (for Billie) hard-on.
“Mike—the car, Miiike—“
“Don’t care. I’ll have it re-detailed for you, just wanna see you fucking come for me, baby.”
Really, it was the ‘baby’ that did it; Billie had such a thing for Mike calling him pet names, especially because it occurred so infrequently. Nothing made him feel more feminine or precious than Mike calling him baby in the most possessive growl, and he worked his hips faster, every strike of Mike’s prick into his sweet spot sending lightning down his spine. Combined with the large, calloused palm jerking him off, Billie was in sensory overload, which meant he lost control over his volume. Clutching at Mike’s shoulders, scrabbling the fabric of his black t-shirt Mike still had on and the sinew underneath it, he sobbed an unintelligible string of nonsense, his best friend’s name interwoven with all of the dirty words his brain let out on impulse as his orgasm tightened in his balls and fleshed out to what felt like every other nerve in his body.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck , Mikey, yeah— yes — yes , yes, oh my God, YES —“
Billie Joe came, his petite frame shivering and convulsing in Mike’s lap even as he bore all the way down on the bassist’s shaft, and the contracting muscles of Billie’s spasming little hole were all it took for him to follow, moaning deep and muted in his chest so it wouldn’t interfere with his partner’s sweet cries. He worked all he could out of Billie’s cock, and the sight of it shooting upwards, staining their clothes and getting so far as Billie Joe’s open chest was enough to get a little extra out of him, too, flooding the caverns of the frontman’s hot ass with a load of his own. In the final throes of their simultaneous release, Mike bent his head forward to lap up the hot fluid from Billie’s chest, delighting in the way Billie’s breath caught in his throat before leading into another moan.
Unclenching his grip on strong arms, Billie Joe got his hands tangled back in Mike’s hair so he could hold him close, sweaty face nuzzling another sweaty face wherever it could reach. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered in Mike’s ear.
More emotion came rearing forward out of nowhere, and Mike squeezed Billie around the waist, simply resting his ear over his heart for a second. It was still racing, but each beat seemed stronger than the last, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude came over him that he never would have been able to put into words. That was more Billie’s thing than Mike’s. All he knew was that he was just so happy that even as things changed and they got older, this only got better. Mike tilted his head back, seeking a kiss with which to relay some of his feelings. “I think the only time,” he mumbled softly between sticky brushes of their lips, “you outright agree with me on anything is during sex.”
Though Billie Joe laughed, he said, “Well, that’s when you’re at your most convincing.” He sighed and started moving some muscles, wincing. “I’m gonna pay for this tomorrow, and we’ve got a show.”
“You’ll be okay,” Mike reassured him and helped Billie out of his lap, getting him and his stiff legs into the bench seat beside him, after they’d gotten his underwear and pants back up. “Do some stretching or yoga or whatever with Adie.”
“Gonna have to.” Getting too old for this , was on the cusp of Billie’s lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it because he wasn’t ready for it to be true. Never would be. Which meant he was going to keep doing it until it was physically impossible. Momentarily boneless against the vinyl cushion, Billie Joe slumped into Mike’s side, eyes closed. “Or I’m gonna fall asleep right here….”
Mike smiled. His own clothing situated, he wrapped his arm around Billie’s shoulders and kissed his temple. Then Mike kept his lips there, nose in fragrant curls, eyes out the window. “Like old times,” he said, and it was wistful.
“When we were outlaws,” Billie replied after a moment, his dry mouth quirking up in a small smile. His eyes opened slowly, vibrant somehow in the dark of the car, and they were smiling at Mike, too. “Thanks for the birthday present. Now it really feels like it’s mine.”
A long breath that wasn’t quite a sigh deflated Mike’s chest, and he stroked the backs of his fingers down a stubbled cheek. “You’re welcome. But next year, you’re getting a gift card.”
Laughing, Billie Joe ducked his head under Mike’s arm so that he could curl both of his arms around his middle, burrowing in for the kind of cuddle he always craved post-coital. “As long as I get birthday sex, I don’t need anything else.”
“You’ll always get birthday sex, Bill.”
“Promise?”
Sealing it with a kiss to the top of Billie’s head, Mike whispered, “I promise.”