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Parabola	By : Ennead Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1106 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, nor do I make any money off of any of the fan works I create of its characters.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
Charles burst out of the bar, chasing Nathan, and saw the car they had arrived in already driving off down the road. He swore to himself and pulled out his cell, having to focus hard on what he wanted to do with it. Of all the times for him to be incapable of driving, it had to be now? Perfect.
He hurriedly demanded another car, and sat down on the curb to think while he waited. This was huge. What he'd spent the last week - and secretly longer, it was true - suppressing and ignoring, now being thrown back in his face to show him what an idiot he had been. All this time he had been worried for nothing, and it was only fitting punishment that now he had to wait for his opportunity to follow Nathan's cue. Hesitation be damned, that had been undeniable permission.
Where the fuck was that car? Couldn't they come any faster?
Flipping his cell open and shut impatiently, he tried and failed to think of a plan. Finding Nathan in the Haus would be easy - there were only a few places the singer even knew how to get to in the massive building - but talking to him would be another matter entirely. He knew Nathan withdrew easily, particularly out of his element, and if Charles didn't get there before he put up his defenses there would be nothing he could do.
A black vehicle slid up to the curb and he lunged for the door, throwing himself inside and directing the driver back to Mordhaus. His head ached, concentration and flurry mixed with too much alcohol, but he knew there would be no time to suffer through inebriation when he got home. He had to find Nathan. Charles laid his head back against the top of the seat, wanting only one thing more than he desperately wanted to go to bed. The night had taken a turn for the unexpected and he felt uncharacteristically out of his depth.
God, what the hell was going on?
Nathan had sprawled himself across his bed, feeling particularly at a loss. He had finally done something, so he no longer ached with frustrating inaction, but it had been a very risky and public something. Now he would have no choice but to explain things to the guys, and that would be even more difficult if Charles didn't harbor similar feelings for him. Part of his brain told him for the thousandth time to give up, but he was too drunk to listen to it. No, he would wait there until Charles came home, and then...he would do something else. He wasn't really sure what; his capacity for planning ahead had been all used up back at the bar.
He sat up when he heard a door open, and saw Charles standing in the doorway. The manager was flushed, swaying slightly and looked completely at a loss, but the fact remained that he was there, and Nathan decided that was a good sign.
"Uh," he said by way of greeting. "Yeah."
Charles leaned his back against the doorframe and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. All the thinking he'd done on the subject didn't change the fact that words now eluded him, and all he could think was that giving in earlier would have saved him a lot of trouble in the first place. Finally, he said the only word he could process saying.
"Why?"
"Why... what?"
God, this would be easier if I weren't so drunk, Charles thought irritably. He couldn't keep his head straight. "Why me?"
Nathan shrugged. "You tell me. I didn't, uh, choose this."
"What exactly is 'this' anyway? I just want to know what I'm dealing with here."
"Fuck, I don't know. You're the one who figures shit out. I'm just... feeling things. You can give them a name if you want, I don't give a damn."
Charles put his glasses back on and crossed his arms, looking at Nathan over the frames. "You kissed me."
"Yeah, I figured that was what you wanted to talk about. We could talk about the weather instead but it's kind of fucking dark outside."
"Hey," Charles complained, "don't give me that. You're the one who --"
"Who WHAT, I --"
"-- just kissed me and then left me there like I wasn't supposed to give a fuck!" he finished, waving his arms at the singer in frustration. "I had to chase you back here just to get a word in! That's not fair!"
Nathan frowned. "Wait, so... you're not angry?"
"Why would I be?!"
"I... dunno, I..." Processing the look on Charles' face - one of complete confusion - Nathan put his head in his hands to figure it out. He wasn't being rejected, or scolded, or anything like that at all. Charles seemed only upset because he had left, not because he had kissed him. This was too good to be true. Maybe he had fallen asleep and was dreaming, now?
He looked up hopefully and found Charles staring at him, waiting for some kind of response.
Nathan responded.
Charles' back hit the wall with a thump, so hard that he bounced. It was all so jarring, physically, mentally, that he couldn't believe he was even still standing. Nathan's mouth was on his, a furious sense of relief and cloistered desire washing over him as if their minds were touching as well as their bodies. Perhaps it was the alcohol, and perhaps not, but it was hyper-real, more than he could and had ever imagined, and it completely bowled him over.
A slide of unfamiliar teeth over a tender bottom lip, already bitten too many times to hold back a tender word in the course of the night. Nathan was speaking volumes with a wordless twist of his tongue. Nothing could possibly be enough to give life to his emotions, and though it frustrated him he reveled in it. Everything about the futility of expressing his desires was exhilarating, compelling to him in just the way that Charles was.
The most indescribable feeling swept over Charles' body, washing away his mind and sinking into his skin, settling on him like a hot towel until he knew nothing else. His skin flushed with sensation, his mind reeling, he pushed back at Nathan with enough force to topple him onto the bed.
"Fuck," Nathan said breathlessly as the smaller man climbed atop him, and brought his hands up to run them over that lithe body. There was too much for him to touch and he couldn't make up his mind, all of Charles so warm and firm, exactly as he had imagined.
Too hurried by the release of his pent-up lust, Charles only fought Nathan's clothing momentarily before seizing his shirt by the neck and ripping it down the center. He didn't have time to actually undress the other man, and though surprised, Nathan did not argue. A low groan vibrated through that broad chest as Charles brought his mouth down on the singer's collarbone.
Nathan slid his hands up to Charles' shoulders and directed the man's attention away from his own body, a question looming in his head. He could barely form words at first, due to both arousal and embarrassment, but out of sheer need he managed, "Can we... uh...?"
"Yes," Charles said, baffled by the need to even ask. Of fucking course, he thought, and sat up to straddle Nathan and undo his own shirt. There were benefits to patience and slow ministrations, but he had waited too long for this to happen; he shrugged off the shirt and reached meaningfully for the singer's zipper. Nathan pushed Charles off of him and made to remove his own clothing, gesturing for the smaller man to do the same. In his drunken, pent-up hurry, Charles tripped over his pants and fell on his face, but there was no time to consider his dignity. No sooner had he stood than he found himself on his back on the bed, wrists pinned and a very welcome weight pressing him into the duvet.
"Problem," Nathan muttered, teeth grazing none too gently across Charles' neck and making him squirm. "I don't know what to do."
Oh, of course, Charles thought distantly. He's used to women. In that moment of relatively clear thought, Charles realized he had nowhere near the patience or coordination to properly revive his sex life that night. They could wing it but that would hurt, and in a big way. He grit his teeth in irritation and gave Nathan a greedy kiss, then freed his hands and motioned for Nathan to return to the bed. Puzzled, the singer did so, looking impatient. "What?"
"There's a lot I want to do with you," Charles began, climbing atop Nathan again and staring down at him with barely contained if drunken lust, "but I'm not really functioning right now and I don't want to go into what happens if we do this wrong. It won't involve a lot of sitting on my part-" he noted the frontman's comprehending wince "- so I have a solution until more sober hours."
Grinning, Charles lowered his face to Nathan's neck and kissed it, biting just a little, before sliding himself down and off of the bed. Nathan's head was cluttered with thoughts of how soft Charles seemed, not in a feminine way but in his own way altogether, and so he initially didn't realize what Charles' backup plan was. The sudden sensation of a tongue on his cock brought him fully back to earth with a groan.
"Hopefully this is acceptable," his manager laughed from below, knowing full well that it was.
Reality fell on Nathan's head, his inebriation and arousal pushing away every bit of sense he had... which had never been a lot to start with. His hand found its way down to the back of Charles' neck, distantly hoping he didn't make the man choke. On the contrary, Charles took this encouragement for what it was, and pushed past his gag reflex to coax another groan from the lead singer.
It was better than what he'd imagined in the shower; volumes so, since he was allowing himself to really enjoy it. He struggled not to finish too quickly, feeling a brief rush of embarrassment as he felt himself drunkenly losing the fight, but Charles' typically sharp tongue was hopelessly drawing the orgasm out of him. Nathan wanted to signal somehow, to get him to slow down before it was too late.
"Wait --"
Charles looked up at him with big hazel eyes over the rims of his glasses, mouth still wrapped seductively around the frontman's dick, and completely destroyed Nathan's resolve. He came without a second thought, and if he could have spared a moment he would have thought his manager took the load admirably, considering. A shiver tickled his spine, and he opened his eyes - when had he closed them? He had been watching Charles so intently - to see the other man covering him from the waist down with his own sheet. Always taking care of his boys, Nathan thought in amusement.
"I, uh," he said, shy again and feeling his nakedness in spades. "That was..."
Grinning crookedly, Charles planted a comparatively tame kiss on Nathan's lips and deftly rolled over the larger man to the other side of the bed. "You can return the favor in the morning if you're feeling bold enough. How's that?"
Nathan turned pink, but readily agreed. "I, yeah, that... Absolutely." He was treated to one last flash of that grin as Charles reached across him to put his glasses on the nightstand, before his manager stretched out at his side for the night. Post-orgasm daze pushed him into unconsciousness,and before he fell asleep he thought that he'd never been so happy to be wrong.
A few hours later, Pickles could be seen cackling in delight in the hot tub, though he refused to explain why.
- 13
- 14
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Parabola