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From Dreams to Reality	By : Pat4pat Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Het- Male/Female Views: 1566 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse or Dethklok. I do not make money from this story.

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I don't own Dethklok or Metalocalypse. Reviews are most welcomed as I'm completely new to writing fanfic. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

Pat

Pickles wasn't quite sure how he had gotten into this situation, but hell if he was going to complain. Right now he was staring down at the girl of his dreams. She was sprawled out on his bed, the rumpled sheets twisting in her grasp. Long, dark hair blended into the contours of Pickles' already dark, satin bed sheets. Hazel eyes were at half mast, looking up at Pickles through a haze of lust and desire. Pickles was resting on his knees, his fingertips clutching at her hips as he raised her to meet each thrust. Each inward and outward glide felt like hot silk to his throbbing member. As he pushed deep inside her, he watched as her breasts jiggled in circles. A droplet of sweat dripped down from her beaded nipples. He leaned forward while still thrusting and took her left nipple in his mouth. She moaned his name and grabbed onto a few of his dreadlocks as he sucked and licked her tender, salty skin. Arching her hips up higher, Pickles shoved deeper into her core. He brought his head back and clenched his eyes shut as he listened to the motion of their bodies and her moans of pleasure.

She was nearing release, his cock could sense it. Already below was a small wet stain on the sheets, proof of her oncoming release. It was a stain he never wanted to go away. Pickles opened his eyes to look down once more on his muse. Her eyes were now shut and her mouth was slightly open, panting his name. A wicked grin flickered over Pickles' face. Pride and possessiveness burned inside him, hearing her moan for him and only him. Her brows furrowed and she began to squirm under Pickles' hot touch. She grasped the sheets above her head firmly with her fingers, forcing her chest to protrude out. Pickles picked up the pace. Each powerful surge made a wet, slapping sound against their bodies. His cock throbbed at the sight of her breasts shaking with his heavy thrusts.

"Pickles…" she panted, "I think. I'm going. To…" She suddenly screamed his name loud as her soft pussy clenched around Pickles' throbbing cock. Her back arched up from the pleasure. Pickles hissed and held onto her hips tight as she continued milking him, pulling him closer to his own release. He felt the added moisture seeping from her core, coating his thick cock. She was so tight, so heavenly tight. A bead of sweat from his brow dropped down onto the smooth skin of her stomach. His lusty gaze watched as it traveled towards the soft skin between her breasts.

"Oh baby," Pickles panted through each violent thrust. His sweet release into the most precious core he had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon was near. "Layla!" he screamed.

Pickles shot up in bed, coming back to reality with a jolt. Oh God, another dream, he thought.

Pickles rubbed his eyes vigorously in frustration. He felt the wetness between his legs and hoped to all that was evil that it was merely the sweat pouring off of him. He checked. "Goddamnit."

It was 9 A.M. and Pickles was more than slightly pissed that he was already awake this early in the morning. He rested his head against the shower wall, letting the heat and steam billow around him, cleansing him from his most recent sins. That had been twice now this had happened, twice this week! Pickles cursed under his breath. He couldn't even add up anymore how many times he'd dreamed of Layla, his obsession, over the past few months. He only hoped that he hadn't shouted her name out loud. His band mates would have fun with that one.

Pickles turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. His red dreads were dripping down his back. Making his way to his dresser drawer, he pulled on his usual outfit, jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. When his blue sweatbands were on each wrist, he laced up his shoes.

There's nothing left to do about last night. Might as well go and eat, Pickles thought. If he tried to forget about Layla and what he'd like to do to her, maybe this whole problem would just go away. Denial. But then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted those thoughts and feelings to go away…

The rest of the band mates were still fast asleep, or passed out, from another late night of drugs, booze, and partying. Pickles made his way through a silent Mordhaus, a rarity, and came to the kitchen. He grabbed a packet of pop tarts from the cupboard and made his way towards the toaster.

And that's when it hit him. He could smell the shampoo from her hair and the lotion from her body. Her wonderful scent wafted towards him before she even entered the room. He froze and turned to face the kitchen doorway with wide eyes. His throat was dry and his palms were clammy from the anticipation. Memories from his most recent dream were racing through his head.

"Good morning, Pickles."
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From Dreams to Reality