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Free Fall	By : redqueeninwonderland Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Green Day Views: 2118 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Free Fall
- 1
Title: Free Fall

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own the man. I have no freaking clue what he does in his spare time.

Notes: This is my first fic on this site, basically I was bored. I don't own anybody but Scarlett so nobody sue. I have no problem with flames so long as their constructive, so please R&R

I was wearing the blond wig and it itched. Tied off my face with a black scarf the ends of the wig trailed around and down my shoulders in a way that made my skin prickle with its fakeness. The corset dug into me, but it looked good. My body was an hourglass and I liked it. There was a mirror over the bar and I looked at myself, my skin was smooth, China white, and the black around my eyes was slanted, like a cat.

My lips shone in the light, glossy, bloody, wet. I sipped the drink and felt the bourbon slide through me like gasoline. The band wasn’t great, but they were heavy on the bass and it pounded through my blood, making me sway in my seat.

“Is it just me or does the lead singer sound incredibly constipated?” The voice was behind me and to my left. I continued to face the stage.

“I would have said dying cat,” I lowered my left shoulder looking toward the voice with a coquettish flip in my eyes.

“Can I buy you a drink?” His voice was surprisingly nasal. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or despised the hell out of it. I held up the nearly empty tumbler of bourbon and he gestured to the bartender. I swiveled in the seat to face the voice.

Definitely decent, milk pale skin like mine, dark eyes, messy bottle-black hair, kohl smudged around the eyes, most definitely attractive. His skin was smooth, at a glance it was really impossible to tell how old he was, but judging fro the eyes I’d wager early thirties. Peter Pan only just beginning to transcend into Captain Hook.

“My name’s Billie.”

“Scarlett.” He cocked his head to the side like a bird and furrowed the brow, one line to mar the mirror smoothness.

“What’s your real name?”

I arched an eyebrow, “Scarlett,” I took a sip of the new drink, having only just finished off the old one.

He rolled his eyes and grimaced, when his lips parted I caught a glimpse of a crooked tooth, it gave him an impish look. “Seriously, what’s your real name?”

I leaned forward, placing the drink on the bar and getting within two inches of his face, “My name is seriously Scarlett Stevenson,” I leaned back, “Why do you care, anyway?”

He shrugged, “I don’t, really, I just hate when people try to come off as cooler than they are.”

“I laughed, “People do that lot with you, do they?”

“You’d be surprised,” he took a sip of the drink, tasting it and then making a face, “Strong stuff.”

“To strong?” I challenged.

“Hardly,” he threw a folded bill on the bar. “Wanna get outta here?” He’d already slid off the bar stool and was offering me a hand. I took a last sip of the bourbon and accepted the hand, sliding off my own stool and adjusting the dress as I went.

I laughed once we had cleared the line of people wanting to get into the club. We stood in front of a dark shop window and the reflection made me smile.

“What?”

I pointed and he turned to look where I was pointing, “We look like a Hot Topic add.” The black, pinstriped dress hit me in the shins, with white lace peaking out the bottom, the stockings were black with a seam up the back, Mary Jane’s with a delicate heel completed my outfit while he wore a black shirt, black slacks and between the white satin tie and my lace gloves it was obvious that retro was back in a big way.

He laughed, “You’re not kidding. Where’re we headed?”

I shrugged, “I’m following you.”

“Ah,” he pursed his lips, furrowed that brow and pointed left, offering me his other elbow, “shall we?”

I placed my hand in the crook of the elbow and delighted in the little shivers that ran through me at his wink. The street took us farther into the Village and the night life was in full swing. We were hardly the oddest dressed pair and I smirked as a transvestite in full Priscilla-wear strutted passed. “Are we headed somewhere in particular?”

“Yes,” he seemed offended at the question, stopping in front of a shop called Adam’s, “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid and it means quite a lot to me, thankyouverymuch.” He swept open the door without looking, pulling me with him.

I bit back a laugh, “You’ve been coming here since you were a little kid.” Adam’s was a sex paraphernalia shop catering specifically to men. It used to be Adam & Evan’s, but when Evan decided to date a post-op Eve it went back to just Adam’s.

He smirked, “Well yeah, I just don’t tell the girls I date about it.” He actually blushed though, when he caught the display behind the counter. Two mannequins in an interesting leather clad position involving a life sized stuffed horse. He grabbed my hand, physically yanking me out the door as Adam rounded the corner, decked out in the same bondage fashion.

I was laughing so hard I could barely stand by the time we hit the street. I had to put a hand to the stays in the corset; laughter was making me light headed.

“That was not funny.”

I managed a serious face before collapsing back against the brick wall again.

“Is that guy always dressed like that?”

I waved my hand in the affirmative and managed to wheeze out “Pony fetish” before laughing some more. I managed to get a full breath, “…Your face… just now…” and then I was laughing again.

“It’s not funny,” he was blushing scarlet and that only made me laugh harder. His face deepened into a scowl and he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked so much like an angry five year old that I had to force myself not to laugh at that too. I pouted.

“Awe… poor Billie-boy…” I reached out, cupping his face between two hands, thumbs caressing his chin through the black lace gloves. My lips touched his, just barely, “Don’t you remember laughter?”

I looked into his eyes and they sparked before his lower lip jutted out the tiniest bit. I touched my lips to his jutted one once, flicking my eyes back up to his. He looked intrigued, still challenging but something else too. I turned my head slightly, opening my mouth the tiniest bit to flick the tip of my tongue against the curve of his lip.

He made a noise in his through and I moaned softly, his hands were at my waist, one straying up the side of the corset then to splay along my jaw line. His thumb touched my chin and I felt his tongue lightly flick my top lip. I breathed in the smell of him, one part cigarette, one part bourbon, one part man.

I nibbled the thinnest part of his lip and he opened his mouth to me. The kiss deepened and I swayed toward him. He chuckled against my lips and I arched an eyebrow. His hands were on either side of my head, holding the wig. A breeze hit my bare shoulders and I shivered hard enough to break the kiss. His eyes were intelligent, though slightly dazed and his lips were smeared with my lip gloss. I reached out to absently wipe it away at the same moment he decided to do the same for me.

“Are you cold?” There was something about his voice that I liked, but also hated because I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. It was actually a warm night, but I still had the urge to shiver under those deceptively young eyes.

“No,” I absently wiped the lipstick from around my lips, thinking quickly. “Let’s get off the street.” I turned, walking down the street and not looking to see if he’d follow. Two blocks over and a half a block up and we were in the front of a converted warehouse.

“…Now where are we?” I could understand why he was wary, the old brownstone looked like it would crumble any minute. I winked, turning to face the wall.

“Cover me, would ya?” I bend over, ignoring the pain in my middle from the corset and lifted my skirt to my hip. He made a surprised sound behind me and I chuckled, fishing in my garter for my apartment key. I found it and held it up triumphantly. I walked to the service door and set about unlocking the dead bolt. I felt his hands on my hips and leaned into him when his chin rested on my shoulder.

“What else have you got hidden under there?” His chin was smooth. The latch clicked and as the door groaned open I turned around, smirking.

“I’ll never tell. Step into my parlor.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” he looked into the hallway before following me up the back stairs.

My apartment was a converted loft, lots of exposed woods and old bricks. I decided when I moved in that I wanted a bower. Lots of hanging fabrics, lush, overstuffed furniture, flowers everywhere and absolutely no exposed lighting. I walked in and flicked on the lights, “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

I slipped through the French doors into the bathroom and set to work removing the makeup from my face. I debated on the wig before taking it off. My hair was dyed cranberry red and just brushed my shoulders. I looked at myself in the mirror critically. I was going to have to do another lemon juice treatment soon.

I had a faint dusting of freckles across my nose that ruined the perfect white of my skin and every few weeks I’d use a lemon juice treatment to bleach it out. I unzipped the dress and hung it on the back of the wardrobe door. The corset plumped my breasts up and the black underwear and garter belt allowed peaks at bare skin, but little else. I was still wearing the shoes and I kicked them off, reaching for a meshy black robe that trailed the floor. It left nothing to the imagination, but it was better than walking out there in my underwear.

When I walked back out he’d settled himself on the couch, his shoes off, his legs stretched out and the throw pillows on the floor. I rolled my eyes, just like a man. “You lost the dress,” he sat up, then stood up , meeting me in the middle of the room. He’d found my stereo because I could hear one of my continental CDs. A Turkish rock group. “Is that your real hair?”

“Yes. You found my stereo.”

He played with a lock, rolling it between his fingers. “Yeah. You don’t listen to much mainstream stuff, do you?” His hand went to my waist, his fingers running down one of the bones of the corset through the mesh dressing gown.

“I do when it suits me.”

“Like tonight? What were you doing in that club, anyway?” His lips were right next to my ear.

“Waiting for someone.”

“Anybody in particular?”

“Yeh, he never showed.” I let my fingers walk and they slowly undid the white satin tie. It fluttered to the floor like a forgotten ghost. I wasn’t surprised when he pulled the knot on the robe and it slid back from my shoulders, puddling in the floor at my feet.

“Would this person,” his hands cupped my shoulders, “Mind terribly if he found out I was here?” His lips skimmed my throat. I laughed.

“Not in the slightest. Unless of course you want to book me for something,” I laughed when he furrowed his brow, “I’m a dancer, Billie.”

“Oh. What kind?”

I pointed at the ceiling, toward the sound of the Turkish man warbling through the speakers. “Belly. I’m quite good, actually.”

He took a step back, looked at me with a discerning eye and then grinned. “Dance for me.”

I smiled; I’d totally seen that coming. “Alright,” I turned my back to him, “But you’re going to have to help me out of this.” I presented him with the laces of the corset and waiting while his fingers loosed the knot and then the laces themselves. When they were loose enough I pulled my arms over my head and he pulled the heavy brocaded fabric up and over my body. It hit the floor somewhere to my right with a dull thud.

I took my first unimpeded breath of the night and luxuriated in the feel of being able to breathe normally. He made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and caressed the red lines the boning made with the tips of his fingers. I leaned into the touch like a cat and then back against his chest itself as he continued the caresses around to the front of my body.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and made a contented sound in my throat as his hands splayed around my waist and then skimmed upward, lifting my breasts and cupping the weight of them in his palms.

“Why do women wear those things?” his voice was right next to my ear. I turned my head on his shoulder so that I was staring at his lips.

“Are you saying you didn’t like it?”

“No, just seems like an awful lot of trouble to me.” His breath smelled like camels and peppermint. I wondered if he’d crunched an Altoid while I was changing and it made me smile. He kissed me and it was soft and lingering. “You said you’d dance for me.”

I laughed, placing my hands on his shoulders I eased him down onto an overstuffed burgundy velvet ottoman. Holding up one finger I winked, “No touching.” I backed up, in stocking feet on the fur rug, and pulled a spangled black shawl off an end table, holding the ends one between each thumb and forefinger. I stood in the middle of the rug, waiting patiently, the song ended and the next one began, a love song I knew well.

Hand drums, then guitar, going slow and picking up speed, I had my hands over my head, the scarf shielding my face. I used my upper body to make a box, my movements were smooth, I added snake arms, walking slowly towards him on the pads of my feet. The scarf served two purposes, first, I was able to use it to play peek-a-boo with various parts of my body, second, I used it to flick towards him, roping it around his neck and pulling him toward me, then releasing.

He was good, not touching me, but not closing himself to being touched either. His eyes were hooded, intense. I straddled his body, walking my shoulders back to do a band bent over his knees and flicked my pelvis, suing the opportunity to roll my abdominal muscles. One, two, three, and then slowly back up again, my shoulders walking. Then leg swiping over his head, full body jiggle, then twisting with the hips.

The woman’s voice was singing of lost loves returning in Arabic, the instruments adding a flavor of the exotic to the night. The song was nearing its end, speeding up I bounced twice on one hip and ended in a graceful collapse to the ground.

I looked up at him through a curtain of hair and he was grinning. He slid to his knees and crawled on all fours to three feet in front of me. “Can I touch you now?” His voice was a whisper in the room and my stomach fluttered.

“Depends, where did you want to touch me?” I wondered where my self assured coquette had run away to and why suddenly it was so hard to breathe. I felt incredibly young suddenly, still in the crouch, my breasts pressed to the fur of the rug and nothing but a scrap of underwear and a pair of garters between me and his roving eyes.

“And if I wanted to touch you everywhere?” His lips were next to mine now, his nose pressed gently to my cheek. I smiled, finding my voice.

“You’d have to catch me first.” I jumped up, running fleet footed across the rug to stand behind the couch, on my toes to see what he would do. He was on his feet, staring at me over the piled cushions. I counted one beat, then two. One three he’d jumped onto the couch, then over the back. I didn’t stop to see if he’d fall. Just ran across the room as fast as I could.

His arm around my waist forced the air out of me in a whoosh and we lurched onto the bed with an oomph. We were laughing and my bare skin against the silky material of the shirt felt heavenly. When I moved my nipples brushed against it and I could feel them tightening, my arms were around his shoulders and we rolled so that I was on my back. His lips were right next to my ear and I shivered when he spoke, feeling a delicious tickle behind my ear that spread outward. “I think this means I won.”

His knees were on either side of my body and he rose up, arms going to his throat to slowly undo the shirt.

I found myself licking lips that were suddenly dry. I knew he was teasing me; his eyes danced and even though the room was suddenly charged with energy the quirk in his lips made it hard not to laugh. I sat up slowly, scooting out from under the v of his legs, I let my hands tickle up his thighs and rest at the apex, his pants covered package was plainly visible and I could feel the heat of it seeping into my palms and I stared up at him, innocently, and slowly let my fingers close around him. He arched an eyebrow and pulled the shirt free of the slacks, taking it off his body and immediately following suit with the tank top underneath.

He was muscled, but not beefy, not nearly chiseled but it was obvious he worked out. His chest was hairless, smooth, and I wondered if he shaved or waxed. I leaned forward, closing my lips over his nipple and gently scraping my teeth over it. He put a hand to the back of my head, cupping it in his palm. My hands slid to his belt and I unbuckled the slim leather, pulling it out of the loops and the leather made soft thwapping sounds. I let it drop to the floor and my fingers made short work of the buttons and zipper. I couldn’t move the pants because of his position above me and I gave him a look of mock annoyance. He laughed in masculine amusement.

“Is Scarlett not getting her way?” He slid of the bed and playfully bit my nose. I smiled and sat up further, watching as he slid the pants and a pair of boxers off his legs. He was very nearly fully erect and I grinned, slithering off the bed to stand opposite him. In bare feet, I realized that he wasn’t that much taller than I was, maybe a few inches at best. I reached out and trailed a finger down his chest and he cocked his head. “What?”

“I need to take these off,” I gestured toward the stockings and garters and he laughed, sitting back down on the bed, supporting himself with hands shoved into the bedding behind him.

“I’ll wait.”
“Gee, thanks,” I propped my left foot on his knee and set about the business of removing the garter hooks from the stocking. He watched with interest. As I started to slowly roll the stocking down my leg he rested his hand on my calf, his thumb gently teasing and when my fingers reached him I straightened, letting him roll it the rest of the way off of my leg. He handed me the discarded stocking and I tossed it over my shoulder, slowly putting my foot down and replacing it with the other. We repeated the process and I stepped back, reaching behind me the unhook the belt itself.

The scrap of stain fluttered to the floor and I let him pull me forward, his fingers finding the band of the lace panties. He pulled them down my hips= a little quickly, I noted- and grinned when he saw me bare in the light. “Bare?”

“It’s easier,” I smirked. “You shave.”

“I’m a guy. And I wax, thank you.” He saw the look on my face and his ears tinged faintly red, “Oh come on, it’d suck to have like, some girl go down on me and then have to pick pubes out of her teeth.”

I laughed outright. “Are you telling me that you’ve never seen a girl completely bare before?”

“No, it’s just weird, is all. It’s like opening a gift from Grandma and you think it’s gonna be a fruitcake or socks or something and it’s a bottle of Jack Daniels instead. I mean, whattaya do with that?”

“You just compared my vagina to a bottle of Jack Daniels.” I didn’t hide the disbelief in my voice, but I was grinning to take the sting out.

He laughed, throwing his arms around my waist and pulling me against his body. His laugh rumbled in his chest, against my skin, making me break into gooseflesh. The bed was a little bit higher than standard, so his forehead rested comfortably against my collar bone. He turned his head slightly so that his lips were against my skin and kissed the flesh above my chest.

His hand closed over my right breast and I shivered, something warm making my belly liquid. He sucked the skin gently, his teeth barely scraping my chest and I closed my hand over the hand at my breast. His other hand snaked around my waist, holding me tight to him and I could feel him fully aroused now against my thighs. My other hand rested at the base of his skull, my fingers played with his hair line. He stopped kissing my chest and stared up at me. His eyes boyish and holding a note of shyness that belied the smirk on his lips. “What?” I couldn’t help myself from asking the question, the look in his eyes was disconcerting.

“Do you have anything? I mean, I didn’t exactly go looking for this… so, um,” he glanced down at his penis and then back up at me and I resisted the urge to say something about men and their second brain. Instead I stepped back, turning to the nightstand and pawing through it for a moment.

I tossed him the foil wrapped package and vaulted onto the bed, making him bounce. He glared in mock severity when my left heel barely missed his head and I made a rather rude sound with my nose. “Would you put the thing on, already?” I pouted, “It’s lonely over here.”

He laughed outright, breaking the seal on the condom with his teeth, “Why Miss Scarlett how you do go on,” the faux southern falsetto was god awful and I hid my head behind the pillow. I heard the sound of the rubber sliding over him and peaked out before hiding my face again in mock-modesty. Billie put a knee on the bed, I felt the mattress give and pressed the pillow harder to my face, ignoring the close air. I felt him coming closer and tensed, my grip on the pillow hard. He yanked and I pulled back, but he was stronger and the pillow was ripped from me. My only protection. I stared up at him wide-eyed, Bambi in the forest. Except female.

“Flirt,” his hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. I went willingly and laughed when he pulled me right back down to the bed again, rolling on the plush duvet. The tumble ended amid a mountain of pillows and I found myself staring up at him, naked and vulnerable and fully enjoying it. His arousal was hot and hard against my inner thighs and I let my hand trail down his chest, playfully before zeroing in on what I wanted. He closed his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against mine before gritting his teeth when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. “That feels great, Scarlett but do you want this to be over before it gets started?”

I stared up at him, my lips curling back in a satisfied grin and I arched an eyebrow. Maybe. Perhaps. Never.

“Then open up for me, baby,” his hand danced between my thighs, his fingers calloused and sure, picking their way around my woman’s parts, playing in ways I didn’t know I could be played. Oh sweet. Oh don’t stop. I arched suddenly, against my will and bit my lip when he laughed, slipping a finger inside, testing me. “You’re so wet, darlin,” he looked up at me, impish, “Is this all for me?”

“If you keep doing that…”

“You’ll what? Show me, Scarlett, what’ll you do?” He slid two fingers this time, twisting his hand so that his thumb could tease just the tiniest bit more. I couldn’t help the whimper or the way my hands tightened convulsively on his shoulders. I wanted to make fun of the look of masculine pride suddenly on his face. I even opened my mouth to, but suddenly all of his fingers moved all at once in a graceful, convulsive flicker that made the thought leave my head and a wave shivered through me so hard that I suddenly didn’t want to flirt any more.

“Ahh, right there,” yes, right there, right where it feels best. How is it that they always seem to know? One of my hands left his shoulder and I watched with a detached eye as it covered his, holding his fingers harder against me even though I knew part of the pleasure was the denial. He sat up, on his knees so that he could gently take my hand away, his other hand guiding it up and behind my head, under the pillow. His lips kissed my forehead, my jaw, my chin, his lashes brushed my cheek and my pelvis jerked convulsively as he gave another little flicktwistslither with his fingers only this time harder, having taken the unspoken hint that I wanted harder.

My body seemed to have a lift of its own, I could feel my breasts tightening, the skin of my thighs seeming to get languid, then tense again, my entire world seemed to center around what he was doing to me and I tossed my head on the pillow, maybe indignation, maybe a plea not to stop, either way he took the hint, sliding down on the bed next to me, his hand never ceasing, but this time his other hand slid through my hair and his lips were at my forehead. “That’s right Scarlett, show me where it feels best.”

I couldn’t speak past the sudden catch in my throat. I wanted something. Wanted to find the edge and freefall, but it wasn’t happening and I couldn’t figure out why. I reached upward, the hand not under the pillow cupping the side of his face, none to gently guiding him to my lips and I attacked his mouth, arching my neck upward to take it because I had to have something to do with this energy that didn’t seem to want to abate.

He broke the kiss, seeming to understand and slithered down the bed again, down my body, his lips kissing random places, the swell of the side of my breast, the line of my belly, the curve of my pelvis. When he reached the apex at my thighs and I realized what he meant to do I let all the fight seep out of my body. I wanted to come, needed to, he’d made me a taught string on the bed, a live wire without anything to ground it and I needed release. I moaned when his hand left me, felt the prick of tears at the deprivation and then his lips gently brushed my bare mound and then oh fuck! And oh yes, right there, there’s where it feels best, don’t stop to look just lick, YES! Nibble with those teeth and who KNEW how good that felt and yesyesyesyes—NO DON’T STOP!

My fingers were tangled in his hair and knew vaguely I must be hurting him, but I didn’t care, his tongue was inside me, his jaw working, I could feel him sucking and his teeth grazing my clit where before he’d nibbled my lips, the tiny waves were fast becoming shudders and I couldn’t help the long, sustained moan any more than I could help my walls tightening, my entire body clenching. One foot out, then two, then free fall only to be jerked back and WHY ARE YOU STOPPING?! YOU—

“Don’t stop!”

He laughed outright, sliding up my body so fast I saw stars for a moment. The loss of the orgasm had left me faint. It was still there, waiting, and I was terrified of loosing it. “The first time you come, I want it to be with me riding you.”

And then oh… sweet. Hot, filling, up to the hilt and then back again. No time to think about that, about his eyes or his intensity. No, only flesh. Friction. Back. Forth. Back. Back. Then hard forward. Slap. Slurp. Slap.

”Billie-“ only I didn’t know what I was pleading for. I didn’t know what else he could do to make me feel any more marvelous. I did however, have a thought that perhaps physics wasn’t all bull shit, though. And then I grimaced as another one of those hard phantom waves hit. “…Almost there-“

“Open your eyes,” his voice was a taught command and when I opened my eyes I realized how much more intimate that position was with a person who was so close to the same height. I was staring directly into his eyes and suddenly it hit me.

Ohgodohgodohgodoh-Holy-Mother-of-Christ-on-a-Stick! The waves hit so hard that I clawed his side without meaning to. I rode them as he rode me, hard, then harder, then tense, trying to hold on as long as possible. I know he came. But sadly, I don’t remember it.

I just remember collapsing back against the pillows, panting, trying to catch my breath with a heaving pile of man-flesh on top of me. He rolled to the side, taking me with him, holding me against his sweat slick body and it took a full minute after that before he could speak. He lifted the humid blanket that was my hair off my neck and I looked up, into his eyes. “Was it good for you?” He had a tired smile on his face and I laughed, waving a hand languidly through the air.

“I guess… but it was a little shaky on the dismount.”

“You remember the dismount?”

“You don’t?”

“Flirt.”

“Lech,” I looked down at his penis before staring back up at him, naked lust in my face and not even trying to hide it. “You made it sound like there might be an ‘again’…”

He laughed, pulling my body harder to him. “Gimme a minute and I’ll see what I can do.”

Holy Mother let his fingers keep dancing.
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Free Fall