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The Price of Pickled Herring	By : RyalsShoal Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2669 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Price of Pickled Herring
- 1
The Price of Pickled Herring
Skwisgaar/Toki slash, NC-17 (for real cool 'blowjobs!')

I never thought that I would ever write Metalocalypse fics, let alone slash ones...but here I am with this!

I think Metalocalypse owns my soul

Swedish/Norwegian phrase translation at the bottom of the page.
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A dark miasma blacker than the blackest patch of midnight festered within the souls of every person who resided within the cold stone walls of Mordland. That miasma of darkness crushed the hopes and aspirations of any man with dreams of happiness and sunshine in his beating heart. It was this despair that fed the infamous band Dethklok their insatiable drive to create and promote all things black and metal. Despair, darkness, and death was a way of life for Dethklok.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf allowed a mighty belch to bellow past his lips. The sound echoed throughout the deserted corridors to reverberate off the stone walls. “Ah yes, I gives that one an eights out of tens.” The Swede felt very pleased with himself as he took another swig from his favorite breakfast beer of imported SkullSplitter ale. He felt a bit disappointed that no one had been present to witness his great feat of a belch. ‘Feh, evens a stupid employee shoulds have seens it’ he thought sourly.

Usually, the corridors were teeming with the black hooded employees scuttling about in their daily chores, but now it was unusually silent. ‘Dats what I gets for wakings up so early.’ Skwisgaar scratched an itchy spot on his bare chest as he contemplated on what he could do to entertain himself. Normally he would be asleep at this ungodly hour of 8am, but he had passed out yesterday afternoon after a particularly brutal night of dueling with Pickles via a drinking contest (of which Skwisgaar had failed miserably after his third bottle of Jack Daniels.)

“Whats to do, whats to do...” he mused to himself as he sauntered down the empty corridors. No one was awake at this hour, not even the crazy fangirls that hovered outside the castle. “I coulds try feedings one to the yard wolves...nah, yard wolves already eats breakfast.” Skwisgaar sighed with disappointment. The yard wolves loved a juicy fangirl.

The distant sound of music reached Skwisgaar’s ears as he passed by the hallway leading down to a band member’s private chambers. “The hell?” Skwisgaar peered down the dark corridor to focus on the distant light that shone from underneath the solid oak door leading to Dethklok’s rhythm guitarist’s private room. “Whys he up so early?” the Swede shook his head in bemusement. Of all the members of Dethklok, only Toki Wartooth maintained a regular schedule. In fact, Skwisgaar could not recall a time when the rhythm guitarist had ever invited one of the many fangirls (or fanboys) into his room to disrupt his tight schedule of plane modeling and guitar practice.

‘Pfft. He’s probably never evens haves a blowjob before.’ Skwisgaar ‘pffted’ to himself and took another sip of his ale. He had often wondered about that question recently, for it had always intrigued him that the Norwegian tended to slip away from the sexual advances of the thousands of fans that flocked to their post concert parties while himself and the rest of Dethklok would leave with a partner or two (or in Skwisgaar’s case, three or four).

Now with nothing else better to do, Skwisgaar decided that now was the best time to test his theory. With one final smirk aimed at the direction of Toki’s room, the Swede tossed the empty beer bottle behind him and rushed towards his own chambers to fetch another beer and a certain item that would grant him access into Toki’s domain.

***

The said rhythm guitarist’s tongue stuck out in an odd angle as he applied the last dollop of paint to the fixture of his latest model airplane’s left wing. ‘Almost gots it...’ He was suddenly interrupted by a loud and obnoxious knock on his door. His concentration ruined, Toki’s single hair paintbrush faltered and missed the intended spot. Toki sighed with irritation and put the model down. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

The great oaken door was kicked open by a black leather boot. “Ya, its me” proclaimed Skwisgaar as he waltzed into the room shirtless and with his breakfast beer in hand.

Toki’s brow furrowed. “Skwisgaar? Why you up so early?”

Skwisgaar shrugged and pointed the neck of his brown beer bottle outside the door. “I gots bored with sleepings, and nobody’s awake at this hour.”

“Yeah, I know.” Toki aimed his swivel chair towards the Swede to talk properly. He was still dressed in his sleeping clothes of blue ‘airplanes and stars’ pajama pants and his favorite faded black T-shirt of a crossed out bumblebee. “I gets up this early to work on my models ‘cause nobody bothers me. I likes the quiet.”

Skwisgaar glanced around Toki’s sparse room for any sign of fangirls (or fanboys) that Toki might be hiding, though other than the desk and small bed there was no place suitable for a body to hide. “You likes to be alone all the time?”

Toki shrugged. “I likes time by myself, don’t you?”

“No...” Skwisgaar rethought the question. “Sometimes, but not right now. I’m bored.” he admitted.

Toki smiled and spun on his swivel chair to point to his several model airplanes that he was constructing. “You coulds help me with the painting! Its my favorite part of making the models.”

“Err, noes...” Skwisgaar tapped one fingernail upon the glass surface of his half full beer bottle. “I gots something better in mind. Here,” he pulled a clear jar that he had been hiding in his back pocket to show the Norwegian the ‘certain item’ that he had fetched from his room. “I gots dis for ya.”

Toki’s eyes widened with surprise as he recognized the object in Skwisgaar’s hand. “Is dats...”

“Ya.” Skwisgaar suppressed a smirk upon seeing Toki’s blue eyes shine with excitement. “Its whats you think it is.”

“Reals pickled herring!” Toki exhaled the word as if it were something holy. He looked up at the Swede with reverence. “Can I haves some?”

“Sure, but yous got to pay for it.” Skwisgaar smirked an evil smirk at his bandmate.

Toki gasped with horror. “Not my solid golds telephone!” he snatched the prized telephone off his work desk and clutched it protectively against his chest. “Anythings but that!”

“I don’ts wants your stoopid telly-phones!” Skwisgaar snorted. “I just wants to gives you a blowjob!”

“Oh, that’s it?” Toki relaxed visibly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t minds a blowjob. Pickled herring is worth it!”

‘What a dildos...’ Skwisgaar grumbled to himself inwardly. ‘He still thinks blowjobs is nosebleed.’ The Swede had actually been counting on Toki’s misconception, for if the Norwegian had known the true meaning of Skwisgaar’s offer, Toki would had surely refused and/or beat him with his very hard solid gold telephone.

Now that Skwisgaar had his trap set, he allowed Toki to accept the jar. The lead guitarist smiled gleefully as he watched Toki pop the lid open and pull out a chunk of the dripping fish meat still encased in silver skin.

“I can’ts thank you enough Skwisgaar!” Toki popped the greyish meat into his mouth. The icy blue eyes rolled and a small moan of content slipped from his mouth.

“Is its good?” Skwisgaar asked as he made his way to Toki’s bed, motioning him to follow.

“Ya!” Toki bobbed his head happily and followed his fellow guitarist, crunching on a pickled raw onion as he did so. “I missed pickled herring fors a long time, Jeans-Pierre cannot makes a good pickled herring.” He leaned against the edge of the bed. “Where did you gets this anyways?”

“I’lls tell you...” Skwisgaar grinned deviously and downed the last of his ale. “Afters the blowjob.”

“All rights.” Toki sucked sweet fishy vinegar from his fingers with relish. “But don’t hits me too hard, promise?”

“I promise to be gentle.” Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. “It be easiers with you on the bed.”

“Oh, right.” Toki carefully placed the jar of pickled fish on top of his bed stand and plopped himself onto the plush mattress. Toki sat with his legs crossed and his eyes tightly squeezed shut in preparation of the blow. “Okay Skwisgaar, I’m ready.”

The corner of Skwisgaar’s mouth quirked as he walked around the bed to kneel before Toki. He ran his long fingers over Toki’s jaw to cup his hand around the fellow guitarist’s chin. “I’m nots going to hits you” he whispered.

Toki’s mouth pulled into a tight line, his eyes still stubbornly shut. “Then whats are you going to do?”

The Swede did not answer, and instead leaned over to ghost his lips across Toki’s left cheek.

Toki’s eyes flew open at the contact to see how close his bandmate was inside his personal bubble space. “Skwisgaar! What are yous–”

“I’m gettings you ready for blowjob, not nosebleed.” Skwisgaar remedied the confusion in Toki’s eyes by brushing his free hand across the ridiculous pajama pants to squeeze and the slight bulge under the fabric. “Real blowjobs means making you feels good here.” Skwisgaar’s fingers traced the contours of Toki’s semi-hard erection for emphasis.

“You mean...like ‘håndjager?’”*

“More like ‘snaska kotte.’”** Skwisgaar replied, stroking the area gently. “What else coulds it be? Idiot.” The insult was said softly, almost fondly. “Yous done this before?”

Toki shook his head. “Not with mouth, no.”

‘I’s thought so.’ Skwisgaar thought with a bit of smugness. “You still wants to keeps pickled herring?”

Toki chewed the bottom of his lip as he weighed the option of keeping and finding the source of Skwisgaar’s pickled herring or not. “Yesss...” he finally replied a bit uncertainly.

Skwisgaar took advantage of the Norwegian’s mulling to pull the worried face close for a kiss. He continued to rub Toki’s crotch, his strokes became more bolder as Toki responded positively to the kiss. The Swede’s tongue dived into Toki’s surprised mouth then quickly retreated. Skwisgaar pulled away and made a face. “Ewws, you tastes like pickled herring!”

“And you tastes like bad beer!” Toki retorted with a smirk. He ran his fingers through the Swede’s blonde hair. “So we’re evens stevens, yeah?”

“Whats wrong with my Scottish ales? I likes it!” Skwisgaar pouted, feeling a bit miffed at having his favorite breakfast beer insulted. His attention was quickly reverted back to the task at hand when he felt Toki’s hips jerk ever so slightly under his ministrations. The blonde man’s lips moved over to suck on the brunette’s jawline, then travel down the neck and cloth covered torso, nipping and licking as he made his way downward. Toki made his approval known with deep guttural sounds in his throat.

With one deft movement, Skwisgaar tugged the edge of the loose pants down to expose Toki’s quickly hardening erection. With the tips of his fingers, Skwisgaar traced the from the tip then along the base into the dark curls. “Yous bigger than I thoughts you are” he mumbled more to himself.

“Um, thanks?” Toki’s last words were cut off with a gasp when he felt long fingers ran up under the faded black shirt, and a tongue licked the crease between hip and leg before backing away far enough to breath over the erect head.

“å herre gud!” Toki sucked in sharply through clenched teeth when he felt Skwisgaar’s hot mouth enclose over his cock. Skwisgaar’s talented fingers teased a nipple under the loose shirt as his free hand held the Norwegian’s twitching thigh steady.

Toki closed his eyes and leaned in towards the source of the pleasure, his arms wrapped around Skwisgaar’s neck and shoulder, his breathing shallow and cheeks flushed. “Feels good” he breathed.

Inside his mouth, Skwisgaar rolled his tongue over the head, taking care to strike the nerve bundle under the base. Under the control of the skilled Swede, it didn’t take long for Toki to reach his limit.

Toki inhaled sharply, heat rising to his face as he felt the pleasure gather to a head before exploding behind his eyes. “Skwisss...uhn!” Toki dug his nails into Skwisgaar’s shoulders, his legs squeezing tight around the Swede’s torso as he came with a muffled cry into blonde hair.

Skwisgaar thrust his head forward to avoid choking on the seed, swallowing as Toki released himself down the lead guitarist’s throat.

When finished, Toki leaned his forehead against the top of Skwisgaar’s head, his long dark hair mingling with Skwisgaar’s blond. “Wowee!” he finally managed with a shudder.

“Real blowjobs are good, ya?” Skwisgaar wiped a thin trail of semen from the corner of his lip.

“Yeah, yours are better than bleeding nose!” Toki agreed as he adjusted himself back into his blue pajama pants.

Skwisgaar propped one hand under his chin in between the rhythm guitarist’s legs as he watched Toki through half closed eyes. “You wants to know where I gets the pickled herring?”

“Tell me Skwisgaar!” Toki held the Swede’s face in his hands to look him in the eye, a note of desperation apparent in his pale blue eyes. “I gots to know wheres, please tell!”

“I gets it from those food libraries.” Skwisgaar pointed to the open jar on the bedstand. “De store’s name is on the lables, they haves a store on the internet.”

“Ooooh, really?” Toki picked the jar up to examine the label for the website link. “I didn’t knows that you coulds buy things on the internet, I thoughts they were only for porno!”

“Pfft, internet is only for pornos Toki, and now food libraries.”

Toki’s eyebrows knitted together. “They sell pickled herring in porno food libraries?” his face lit up. “Cool!”

“Ya, ands now I gots the munchies froms giving you blowjob. You wants to share a breakfast beers with me?”

The Norwegian scrunched his face at the mention of Skwisgaar’s bitter ales. “Only if its cool-aids breakfast beers.”

“Sure, whatevers.” Skwisgaar shrugged and stood up from his kneeling position to walk to the door. Toki could spot red marks where he had dug his nails into the Swede’s bare shoulders. “Are’s you comings or not?” the said man asked from over his shoulder.

“I’m comings.” Toki scrambled off his bed to follow the Swede into the deserted corridors. “Say, Skwisgaar?”

“Ya?”

Toki avoided his bandmate’s steely blue gaze and blushed slightly. “Coulds you bring me pickled herrings again sometimes?”

Skwisgaar smiled and slapped his friend’s shoulder good naturedly. “You’s can buy pickled herring from me anytimes, Toki.”

End

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What they're saying....

* håndjager = Norwegian slang for jerking off
**snaska kotte= penis-sucking
***å herre gud = 'oh my god' (phrase from 'Bitch' on Y!Gallery.
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The Price of Pickled Herring