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You May Drown	By : redqueeninwonderland Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Green Day Views: 2031 -:- 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
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Title: You May Drown Chapter Three
Rating: Strong R/NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: Still don’t own ‘em. Mourning the fact that I don’t own ‘em.
Notes: I’m still not sure if anybody’s bothering to read this one. But I like it, so you’re stuck with it.
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“What do you want, Billie?” I didn’t try to keep the disdain from my voice and he didn’t answer as we entered the hotel room. I eyed the obviously not slept in bed and pulled few things out of the suitcase, ignoring him completely I went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I forced myself to be slow, washing remnants of makeup from my face and folding the dirty clothes, Tre’s shirt on top. On went a pair of black sweat pants and a wife beater. I was foregoing the bra and I had a moment’s hesitation, I wasn’t wearing a bra and the outline of my nipples was clearly visible. I shrugged, if I wanted a bra I’d have to go back out to the room anyway.
He was sitting on the bed when I walked back out. I sighed, sitting cross legged on the low dresser in front of him. “Why are you so angry with me, Billie Joe?”
His eyes glittered and he didn’t say anything for a moment. “Who the hell are you?”
I sighed, “We’ve already been over this-“
“So stop lying,” I couldn’t decide if he looked pained or pissed off, “I’d forgotten to get a phone number, you know.” He got up and paced to the door before coming back to stand over me. “If your name is Scarlett Stevenson, then you don’t exist. Same for Fatimah Preda. I had somebody check last night. And your agent guy won’t say anything. So I’ll ask again. Who the hell are you?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I don’t like to be lied to. Especially by somebody who-“
“Somebody who you lied to, too?” I scrambled to my feet and faced him. “How dare you not tell me you were married?” “You’re telling me you care?” He was being purposely cruel.
I slapped him. “You said yourself you don’t know me. So don’t. Okay?” I turned around, the drapes were pulled and the view was pretty. “Why do you give a fuck, anyway?”
He was silent for so long I wondered if he’d answer at all. “I don’t know,” he said finally and he sounded defeated. “I tried to find you- to, I don’t know. And you just- it was like you were a fucking ghost. And then it was easier to be angry. And then you were here and I thought—but God dammit all, okay?”
I turned around to look at him, and honestly, Holy Mother, I wanted to send him packing. I wanted o tell him to go to hell, but he just looked so lost. I sighed, “You’re married Billie. Me and Me and what I do really shouldn’t matter, okay?”
He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what? You think I don’t- I’m a total bastard, okay? I know that! She’s fuckin’ great and I love her like hell but there you were and- fuck. I don’t’ even know what to fucking call you.”
He looked so mixed up. I reached out, touching his cheek with my fingertips because I couldn’t’ help myself. “Call me Scarlett, Billie, it’s who I am.” He held my hand to his cheek and I let him because the contact felt nice.
He closed his eyes, “We’re both of us liars.” His head turned and his lips were against my palm. His breath was warm and my stomach plummeted.
“You don’t believe me?” It shouldn’t’ bother me that he didn’t trust me, but it did. I think maybe that was why I was so cloak and dagger about everything.
“It doesn’t matter, Scarlett,” he opened his eyes and the intensity in them made me fall back a step. “I had to see you.” His hands were at my hips and his thumbs brushed my sides, it felt nice but my insides were quivering. Mother Mary, help me!
“When I saw you last night,” I fought to find the exact words, “I was so—God, Billie, you really should have told me.” He nodded his head, ashamed. “And I hated myself for missing you.”
He pulled me against him and I let him because the contact felt so much better than not touching him. I”I wasn’t planning on staying that weekend. But you didn’t know who I was and it was nice… just being a guy and not having to live up to the image, you know?”
“But this is so fucking wrong!” I pulled away form him and went to stare out the window, “How am I supposed to not care that you’re married? That everything that we did, everything that I feel goes from being fucking amazing to-“
“Wrong. I know. I’m the one that has to face her, Scarlett. And it’s tough, okay, I fucking love her like fuck and I’ve got to pretend that everything’s fine and I’m not spending my time thinking about this girl I met who shoulda been off limits.”
“why did you pick me up in that bar?” I hated myself for the way my throat clogged. And I hated that I had to talk around tears. Because I didn’t give a shit either way. He was so close that I whirled and backed up, putting distance between us. The wall was solid at my back and gave me strength as he advanced on me.
He put his hands on the wall on either side of my head and my breath caught. My body responded to his closeness, my breasts puckering painfully in the shirt. He glanced down and smiled the ghost of a smile as he bent his head. “Why did I pick you up?” I nodded once, scared of the depth of my desire. “Because of this,” his lips touched mine and I collapsed against the wall, my protest dying in my throat.
His hands slid purposely down my body and I obediently lifted my arms as he drew the top over my head. Breath sobbed into my lungs and I closed my eyes when he kissed me again, he pulled lose his tie. With bare chest to bare chest his hands slid down under the waist of the sweats and I groaned against his lips when his hands closed over my ass.
I lifted a leg against his body and he held it there, a hand reaching back to curl around my knee and I could feel his arousal. I moved my hips against it and he groaned, his other hand sliding between our bodies to close over my feminine parts, “I love how wet you get,” he murmured as his fingers began their work.
The first orgasm hi me quickly and to be honest it was just as much because of the encounter with Tre as what Billie Joe was doing to me. My fingers tightened almost painfully on his shoulders and I counted each convulsive tremor that waved through my body. He stared at me for a moment before dropping to his knees in front of me, his fingers hooking the sweats and pulling them with him.
He stared up the line of my body and I watched his face through the valley between my breasts. I read intensity and naked need in his face before I felt his thumbs spreading me. And then he was licking, suckling me, his lips working over me and my fingers tightened convulsively. My right fist pounded the wall once and then flattened against it my fingers trying to find a hand hold on the wallpaper.
My other hand ran through my hair, grasped my breasts, covered my lips, slid down my body to run through his hair. It shivered through me and then hit me hard, my mouth formed an ‘O’, my lips trembling, my jaw tightening and I sighed, my breath hitched. “Billie-“
My legs were jelly and he released my hips, letting me slide to the floor. I touched his face tentatively, with trembling fingers. My thumb slid just below his lip, gliding through my juices and then I kissed him. Hard. My teeth scraped over his lips and he practically threw me onto the carpet.
I spread my legs for him, I could feel the material of the pants and abrading my inner thighs. I groaned, grinding myself against him. He forced a hand down there, fighting with the zipper and then he was out and inside and a wave of guilt so intense it stung my eyes with tears washed through me. Mary, forgive me, give me the strength to one day ask for her forgiveness as well.
“Fuck me,” my voice was harsh against his neck and he complied, driving hard into me. I arched up to meet him, then up harder, my feet digging into the scratchy, smooth cut pile carpet of a five star hotel. I closed my eyes, finding the place where it felt best and then grinding against it so the pleasure rode the line into almost pain. “Harder.”
He drove into me. And as good as it felt it was punishing too. I think maybe we were both trying to fuck her out of our minds, this intangible other that should have made him off limits, but somehow the image of her smiling and being genuinely polite even though Tre was right and she probably already knew was what made the orgasm hit me.
Defiant pleasure like a fucking sledgehammer banging outward through my gut. Fucking my nerve endings raw. He collapsed on his elbows for a moment and probably would have collapsed against me but his cell phone trilled. He froze and I knew by the look on his face exactly who it was.
“Answer it,” I said quietly and he nodded, rising to his knees and fishing the ringing plastic from his back pocket.
“Hey baby,” I closed my eyes against the image of him above me. His pants open, his cock softening, my juices all the fuck over him and his attention on his God-damn wife on the phone.
I kept my eyes closed as he kissed me goodbye. I knew he was sorry but I didn’t want to care. I heard him in the bathroom cleaning himself up, then dressing and then leaving and only when he left did I open my eyes. I lay there, his come sticky between my thighs, staring up at the fucking vaulted ceiling and I tried to hate him. I tried to fucking cry.
I tried to hate him.
I tried to hate her.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, only that I was floating in and out of an easy fugue state where there was no time. I finally snapped out of it when I realized somebody was banging on my door.
I rolled over, my body was sore and the mess on my thighs had dried on my skin. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was disgusted as I stumbled to the door. I wasn’t thinking about being naked, hell I didn’t give a shit, but I must have looked a sight because when I answered the door Tre fell back a step.
“Holy fuck, Legs,” he pushed by me into the room, pulling me with him and slamming the door behind him. He took in the sight of me again and then looked in the rest of the room. My clothes were strewn in the corner and apparently we’d knocked over a rather large floor lamp. He knew exactly what happened. “Legs-“
I spread my arms in apology, my hands grasping empty air. My voice cracked and the tears pricked my eyes again. “He was here and I couldn’t say no,” I laughed and there was a note of hysteria in my voice.
He cursed, pulling me into those arms with a muttered, “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” and all of a sudden I was crying and it felt so good to just be fucking held by someone who was allowed to hold me that I just kept repeating it over and over.
“I couldn’t say no…”
“It’s okay, Legs, I’m here,” he held me so tight. Every time I sobbed his arms tightened and I was so grateful for it I only cried harder. I was grateful that he was there. I truly, truly was. But his being there reminded me that I trusted him, that I wanted him.
Mother, I was so very, very lost because while he held me a small, secret part of me thought that if he’d only let me find an outlet for that hurried desire upstairs, this never would have happened.
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You May Drown