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Midnight Voyeur	By : Bunnywith Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3235 -:- 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-Midnight Voyeur
- 2-Midnight Voyeur Part 2
- 1
- 2
He’d had fun, but enough was enough. A one-night stand did not mean Murderface wanted Toki to follow him around like a puppy and yap, yap, YAP all the damn time. Had he known the consequences, he never would’ve snuck into Toki’s room for quick sex. With that idiot on his heels, Murderface been casually touring his dungeon while carelessly swinging a double-sided battle axe in the direction of the Norwegian, trying to silently threaten him with physical pain if he didn’t shut his ass up, but Toki didn’t get the hint and kept right on talking, blissfully unaware that his band mate was entertaining homicidal thoughts.
“…So you knows how Skwisgaar is always gettings these new guitars and he is never usings them, he just keeps to playings his same olds guitar, and all these others, they are unloveds, they just sits and they dies, so I goes and I takes one, it’s that cool one mades from a gun, it’s a gun guitar, wowie! And I’m thinking I loves this guitar, I’s goings to keep it, I don’t cares what Skwisgaar says…”
Did he EVER shut up?
“I DON’T CARE!” Murderface shrieked, his eyes wide and pupils dilated as his nostrils flared in a rage, “I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about, AND I DON’T CARE! SHUT UP! GO AWAY!”
Spit flew from his mouth and landed with a splat on Toki’s cheek, but the guitarist didn’t seem to notice. He was watching Murderface curiously as his mind slowly translated the lispy English into Norwegian so he could understand, but after a few minutes he still looked as if he’d been told a joke and didn’t get it.
“So, uh, anysways...When’s we’s gonna has sex again?” Toki looked hopeful.
“Never again, if you’re gonna follow me around like this every time we fuck!” Murderface crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Toki, waiting for him to say something. Honestly, the sex had been fucking awesome, probably in the top 5 of Murderface’s recollection of sexual experiences, but having Toki follow him everywhere – even to the fucking bathroom, for god’s sake – wasn’t worth it. There were plenty of people around he could go fuck, and even though he’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who would be as tight or anywhere near as sexy as Toki, he knew that NONE OF THEM would shadow him for days, in spite of death threats.
And so, while Toki stood there, looking hurt and disappointed and pouting violently, Murderface took advantage of the moment of peace, and stalked off.
The past few days had been decidedly weird for Nathan. He’d been unable to face anyone in his band, except for Pickles, who still didn’t know anything about missing out on a hell of a lot of sex a few nights ago. After three days of hanging out with Pickles, Nathan was fucking sick and tired of the man. He’d already decided it was a hell of a lot more fun to watch the drummer act like a jackass while under the influence of…anything. Watching Pickles while sober was just kind of annoying while bordering on painful, although it was certainly better than nothing. Maybe. Nathan was still trying to decide.

The two men were sitting across from each other at the dining table no one ever really used to eat at, taking turns knocking back shots of tequila and making faces at the bitter, spiky flavor. With 8 shots down, Pickles suddenly started talking about his eyebrows and the four metal hoops pierced through his skin, and he declared he wanted a new piercing.
“Wh-What should I get done, N-N…Nat’an?”
“I…I think you should…You should…uh, get a tattoo instead. It should be a…A liquor bottle…With a, uh…With a heart…On the label. Cause you drink so fuckin’ much.”
“You’re one to talk,” Pickles was delighted to pick a fight; alcohol made him stupid brave, “Y-You’re the one whose had sooo many liver transplants…I-I’m only on my third liver! H-How many’ve you had…? Eighty?”
Nathan could sort of tell that Pickles was attempting to insult him, but he didn’t know if he was actually offended or not.
They heard a crashing noise followed by a series of colorful swears from the adjacent kitchen, and both of them turned toward the sound. Nathan’s blood froze up and his heart decided to stop beating once or seven times as he recognized Murderface’s lisp echoing off the stone kitchen walls. His memory flashed back to that night he’d quietly observed Murderface fucking the rhythm guitarist, and he locked in on the mental image of the heavy but fluid motion of the bassist’s hips as he’d pulled in and out, fast and hard, driving in deeper with rougher and meaner strokes until a piercing scream had issued from Toki’s throat, a scream that Murderface had muffled with his lips, pressed against Toki’s own…
As he replayed this memory clip over and over, Nathan unknowingly stood from his seat at the kitchen table, his body wanting to run straight to that idiot and, I don’t know, slam him into the wall and force hot, dirty tongue-sex on him, but his brain caught up with his body and stopped him before he could act on that urge. After he’d stopped, he realized he could either sit his ass back down and continue to drink with Pickles (who was talking to himself about what patterns he saw in the glazed, wooden table top before him), or he could swallow the bundle of nerves he felt lately whenever he thought of the ugly-ass bassist and go join him in the kitchen.
Nathan stood and walked away from the table, ignoring Pickles when he inquired as to where Nathan was going. He passed from the dining room into the kitchen and saw Murderface shoveling handfuls of Doritos into his mouth while exploring the fridge for better, tastier alternatives. A few pans had been misplaced from their hooks on the walls and thrown to the floor, no doubt the result of whatever completely irrational rage Murderface was feeling. The bassist’s back was turned to Nathan as he searched for a snack other than his chips that would suffocate the stress headache that was clouding his thoughts.
“Stupid Toki with his stupid stories and stupid fuckin’…stupid.” He snarled, tossing his head back and emptying the Doritos crumbs into his mouth, chewing and smacking noisily, messily.

Nathan stood by the dining room/kitchen doorway, just watching. For the moment, he was happy with the arrangement as it was; him observing as Murderface made a pig of himself, stuffing his craw with food and completely oblivious to the fact he was being watched. Crumbs of whatever he ate fell to the floor in a ring around his feet, and he was making noises similar to those of a pig. And still, even after watching the man EAT, after hearing the grotesque noises he made, Nathan. Wanted. To. POUND. Him.
As he wondered how this cruel twist of fate was brought upon him and what the hell he’d done to deserve it, Pickles came barging out of the dining room, singing like a merry jackass.
“Well I, I set my sights on yoooou…And I, I've got to have my way now, babiiiiiiee…MURDERFACE! Hey there, you sonnuva bitch! How are you??” Pickles screeched, scaring the unholy hell out of Murderface, who almost choked on a mouthful of chocolate ice cream ‘magic shell’ syrup as he sucked it straight from the bottle. He whirled around with chocolate dribbling out the corner of his mouth, and proceeded to scream incomprehensible obscenities at Pickles, who was in such a merry state of inebriation that he didn’t hear a damn thing as he waltzed out of the kitchen and down the hallways to go hunt out a groupie to mess around/drink with.
Nathan still stood across the kitchen, staring at the bassist.
“…What the fuck you lookin’ at?” Murderface snipped, wiping the chocolate off his face before balling up his empty Doritos bag and throwing it at Nathan. Despite having the best aim out of anyone in the band (which is, unfortunately, not saying much), his projectile was simply too light to fly very far at all, and fell to the ground after traveling a mere five feet through the air. He stared pitifully at the trash, flipped it off, then returned his gaze to Nathan, awaiting his answer.
“I…I’m looking at you,” Was all Nathan could manage to say. At least he’s honest.
“Well stop it. It’s creepy.” Murderface sniffed, and turned back to the open fridge, looking for the chocolate bars and hoping Toki hadn’t eaten them all.
“I can’t...” Nathan’s chest began to pound as he replayed the entire Toki x Murderface scenario in his head for what must have been the 40th time that day. He remembered watching the two through Toki’s door, and he remembered getting harder than ever before as Murderface had pulled his hips back until his prick was almost all the way out, then slamming all the way back in, hard enough to make Toki gasp and scream loud enough to echo off the walls, probably loud enough so that everyone within the haus had heard. Nathan swallowed hard as his heart began to pound in his chest. He crossed the kitchen to where Murderface was inhaling the contents of the fridge and stood right up against the bassist, pressing his body hard up against the shorter man’s backside. There was no possible way Murderface could be unaware of Nathan’s presence behind him, but he still tried very hard to not acknowledge him as he began to drink super chunky jalapeno chip dip straight from the glass jar. He was doing a fantastic job of telling himself that Nathan wasn’t standing directly behind him until he felt his band mate’s hands clap down on his shoulders and squeeze.
Pug nose wrinkled up in disgust, Murderface turned his head and looked up at Nathan.
“What the FUCK are you doing?”
“I’m trying to decide if I should kiss you or not.”
“…Wait, what?”
Murderface dropped the jar of chip dip as he turned around quick and saw Nathan suddenly leaning in close. The jar shattered upon contact with the hard floor. Chunky dip splattered all over their feet and legs, but neither man noticed. Nathan reached behind Murderface and slammed the refrigerator door shut, forcing Murderface up against it. Nathan was breathing hot and heavy as he dug his fingers into the bassist’s shoulders, already imagining the vile, incredibly hot things he was going to do to Murderface, feeling his cock swell and harden beneath his pants as a vision of the bassist tied up and gagged crossed his mind.
“I saw you…” his voice was low and ragged, “You…and Toki. I saw you two fucking and…And now I can’t stop thinking about you and your ugly fucking ass…”
Murderface’s eyes widened considerably, then narrowed.
“You saw us!? You were WATCHING!??” his voice became high pitched and squeaky, and spit was flying everywhere, including upon Nathan’s face. The front man wiped his face dry before he continued, feeling a little embarrassed that he’d inadvertently confessed.
“Look, I was, uh, I was coming to Toki’s room to steal some sleeping pills ‘cause I have this brutal insomnia…And, uh…That…That’s not what I was talking about, dammit!! Will you shut up, you got me all confused! Look, point is, I saw you two fucking, it was really hot, and now I’m gonna fuck you, whether you like it or not.”
As soon as he’d finished saying it, Nathan crushed his lips into Murderface’s and he fucking LOVED it. His hands traveled from Murderface’s shoulders, up his neck and held onto his jaw, digging his thumbs hard into the big baby’s cheeks as his lips were sealed tight against the other man’s. He pressed his tongue against Murderface’s lips, and when he was denied, he bit down sharp on his band mate’s lip. Murderface opened his mouth to protest this treatment, and suddenly found Nathan’s tongue gliding over his own. Unexpected and unwanted as it was, he was surprised to find he rather liked it. Was he going to give in and let Nathan get away with it, though? Fuck no. He bit Nathan’s tongue, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised as the front man reeled back and punched him in the face as retaliation. Murderface heard and felt the bones in his nose crack. The resulting bruise would NOT be pretty. He grit his teeth, his hand reaching up and gently cradling the sore area on the bridge of his nose. FUCK, that hurt!! Murderface looked up to scream at Nathan, but was distracted when he felt his band mate’s fingers woven into his nappy brown hair. Nathan squeezed his grip hard on the bassist’s hair, glaring angrily and warning him, wordlessly, should he try to pull any more stunts like that, his hair would be torn from his scalp. Nathan leaned back in to continue their kiss where it had been interrupted, and he after he felt Murderface’s teeth bite down hard on his lip, he decided a different method of brutal punishment would be necessary.
Nathan felt his skin break open, felt the hot blood pool up and seep out of the wound on the sensitive inside of his bottom lip where he’d been bitten. His tongue poked against the broken skin curiously, then lapped at the fat drop of blood that leaked out. Nathan sucked down his own blood, and a wicked grin crossed his face. He made to lean back in, to bite Murderface’s lip, an eye for an eye, but was surprised by a second assault from the short little idiot he wanted to fuck so very, very desperately, for whatever reason he still didn’t know. Murderface had slammed his rock solid forehead into Nathan’s, giving a magnificent show of his head-butting talents and creating a sharp clapping sound effect not unlike that of throwing a brick into a wall as their foreheads collided. Nathan was only somewhat dazed as their foreheads cracked together, despite the awesome force that was Murderface’s head-butt. Nathan was a hell of a lot tougher than your average Danish prince, you see. It would take a hell of a lot more than a measly head butt to fell Nathan Explosion.
He stumbled back a few steps as his brain rattled around inside his skull, but he quickly regained his composure and lunged at Murderface, gripping his wrists tight and pinning them against the refrigerator door, on each side of the man’s head with his teeth bared like a wild dog, glaring at his future bitch.
“Two can play at that game,” Nathan snarled right into Murderface’s ear with a low, hard, dangerous voice. He pulled his head back, face screwed up as he braced himself, and repeated the favor with a violent head-butt of his own.
“OOWW!! Jeezy, Nathan!” Murderface struggled against Nathan after the middle of his forehead, still tender from his own attack, was struck with such brute force. His face felt hot from the pain of his cracked nose and his head was pounding with the onset of an angry headache. He railed with all his strength to free himself from Nathan’s powerful grip, but all he could manage was to briefly lift his trapped wrist away from the fridge before it was slammed back down. He snarled and glared at Nathan, whose own forehead was developing a disgusting purple-black bruise. Murderface was certain he looked ten times worse, what with his own forehead dent, his damaged nose, and his having been cursed with a physical appearance as ugly as sin. He turned his face so he could see his captor’s wrist and lunged out, sinking his teeth hard into Nathan’s wrist. He bit down as hard as he could, feeling random tiny vessels popping under the pressure. That would leave a nasty bruise.
“You’re just making this harder on yourself,” Nathan growled, growing tired of the struggle. Murderface was strong, sure, and incredibly violent when he was loose, but he was no match for Nathan’s strength. It was child’s play to hold him down, and watching him try to struggle for freedom was just kind of sad.
“FUCK YOU, I’m not gonna just lay back and let you fuck me!!” Murderface snapped, a blood-thirsty rage riding on his features as he tried, desperately tried to kill Nathan by glaring at him with every ounce of hatred and brutality within him. He was caught off guard when Nathan was suddenly holding both of his wrists in one hand and had forced his other hand down the front of Murderface’s shorts to grab a handful of that huge dick he’d witnessed wrecking Toki’s body just days prior. A slow grin spread over Nathan’s face as his fingertips dug in and he felt that the bassist was hard from the rough treatment. Murderface’s eyes widened immediately and of course he couldn’t help but vocalize that Nathan’s hand felt VERY nice on his dick.
“You were getting off on that,” Nathan accused, forcing their bodies harder together, putting pressure on the bassist’s cock, licking his lips slowly, ravenously as his band mate held back a strangled groan of sudden, incredible, intense pleasure.
“What part was it that you liked so much? The head-butt? When you bit me?” Nathan growled, his face so close to Murderface’s they could both feel his throat rumbling, “Maybe it was when I punched you?”
That must have been it, judging by the way Murderface snarled and looked away, face flushed, when he heard the suggestion.
‘So he’s a masochist…’ Nathan grinned, then looked at his band mate’s scarred up arms, the fresh cuts and week-old scabs…. ‘Well no shit, Explosion.’
Although Nathan held in his hand the proof that Murderface actually was enjoying being tormented, the bassist continued to deny his desire to continue this game, all the while attempting to subtly buck his hips harder into Nathan’s grip for just a little more pressure…
“Get your hands off me,” He threatened one last time. His hands were still trapped in Nathan’s vise-grip, and he wasn’t about to knee the front man in the balls…That was just wrong. Besides, Nathan would’ve kneed him in return. With no weapons left, Murderface readied himself to launch an almighty spit ball into Nathan’s eyes if he was not immediately released.
“You gonna spit on me?” Nathan was grinning, incredibly amused as his hand encircled Murderface’s erection inside his shorts, rubbing his thumb against the head and slowly pumping up and down the hard shaft, observing as the bassist’s expressions changed from pissed off to ecstasy, back to pissed, then to liquid rage and back again…And just as Murderface was getting ready to cough up a ball of spit, Nathan pulled his hand from Murderface’s shorts and pinched the man’s red, flared nostrils flat against his nose. Surprised by sudden shooting pain through his sinuses, AND that he was suddenly unable to breathe with his nose, Murderface coughed and choked on his spit bomb, and warm bubbly saliva dripped out his mouth, down his chin. He violently shook his head from side to side, trying to shake his band mate off. Nathan laughed, releasing Murderface’s nose to yank the man’s dark blue shirt up and mop spit from his face.
“Nasty.” He commented, pressing his lips against Murderface’s for a brief, albeit hot kiss. He bit down hard on the man’s lip and tugged slightly before his mouth went down to Murderface’s jaw and the side of his neck, where Nathan pressed his face against the pulsing artery there, moaning as he felt his band mate’s blood racing so fast. Murderface’s skin was so hot already, and damp with sweat. He smelled awful, truly terrible, as if he’d gone a few days without a shower and spent most of his free time building up his B.O. with strenuous exercise, and STILL, Nathan wanted him!!
Nathan growled, grinning as he used his free hand to unbuckle his own belt, sliding it out of his belt loops. He took Murderface’s hand from above his head and pulled them down so they were together, resting on the bassist’s pouchy stomach, and he bound them with his belt. As he looped the leather strip around and around, Nathan couldn’t help but notice that Murderface was oddly compliant about being tied up. He decided to keep that bit of information for future use.
Once Murderface had been secured, Nathan grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around fast, smashing his face into the cold metal refrigerator door. Murderface protested this rough treatment, but secretly, he loved it. It excited him to no end. Nevertheless, he maintained a monicrum of dignity left that prevented him from admitting that this was turning him right the fuck on, making him horny as hell, even desperate enough to willingly be dominated. He continued to scream obscenities at Nathan, who was so used to ignoring Murderface’s tantrums anyway that he probably didn’t even realize he was being yelled at.
Nathan yanked Murderface’s shorts down, and forced him to bend over. Murderface saved himself from falling by holding onto the refrigerator handles, leaning heavily against the appliance.
“You realize you’re going to pay dearly for this.” Murderface snarled. His eyes widened suddenly when he felt Nathan’s fingers prodding at his hole. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to keep his body rigid in a half-assed attempt to fool Nathan into believing he was an unwilling participant. Except Nathan didn’t care if he was willing or not. “Yes, you will pay…I’m gonna make you suffer…”
“Hey, open the fridge,” Nathan’s voice was surprisingly close to Murderface’s ear, making the bassist jump in alarm.
“What? Whadda you want?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Pick out something…slippery.” Nathan grinned suggestively, shoving both his index and middle finger inside Murderface’s hole right up to the knuckle, smiling evilly as Murderface jumped at the intrusion, “You understand now?”
He did. Murderface stood up straight – hard to manage with Nathan fingering his ass – and pulled open the door, searching inside for anything that might act as a good lubrication. Strawberry jam, milk, assorted varieties of alcohol, fruit juice, whipped cream…Was that soymilk he saw?
“Hey, here’s some ketchup…I don’t know how good it is as a lube, never tried it, but…” Murderface was half muttering to himself as he pulled a plastic bottle filled with purple-colored ketchup from the fridge. Nathan snatched it away and slammed the refrigerator door shut, forcing the bassist to reassume position as he pulled his fingers from his band mate’s ass. Face burning in rage, shame and excitement, Murderface kept his hot skin pressed tight against the cold metal fridge door. He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he felt the cool sensation of ketchup as Nathan smeared it all around his asshole, then worked his slippery fingers back inside Murderface’s hole, scissoring them apart to stretch him at least a little, wanting to spare his band mate from suffering any unnecessary pain, because deep down, past the misery, the hate, and the fetish for eye patches, Nathan really was a good guy.
Murderface groaned loud and rocked his hips insistently against Nathan’s fingers. After allowing Nathan to go this far, he wasn’t caring nearly as much about trying to hide his desire anymore. His movement surprised Nathan, but pleased him also. This would be much easier with him compliant, and not trying to tear his face off. Nathan was even more excited, now that everyone involved was now willing, and he spread his fingers wide, detecting no trace of a wince from the bassist. Nathan was almost shaking as he pulled his pants down, wrapping a hand around his own cock and stroking long and hard. He looked down at his monstrous cock and frowned, and then he looked to the small hole Murderface presented him with. It was going to happen, one way or another, Nathan had determined. He took his place behind Murderface, bumping the head of his cock against the puckered little asshole, a small shudder overtaking him at the promise of what was about to happen.
Murderface had braced himself already, going against recommended advice to prepare for ass sex. His muscles were all clenched tight, but no matter how hard he tried to calm himself, it wasn’t working. He was not at all reassured when Nathan spoke next.
“This might hurt a bit…No…Wait…It’s gonna hurt a lot. Maybe you should try to go limp”
“Wait, wait, what do you mean go lim- OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Murderface balled his hands into tight fists and pounded them against the refrigerator as sudden, wracking pain tore through his body and he reflexively arched his chest forward, trying to scramble away. He was unable to make an escape as Nathan was holding him tightly about the waist now, digging his nails hard into Murderface’s stomach. He groaned miserably and dug his teeth hard into his arm, trying in vain to take his mind off the pain he felt in every cell in his body as Nathan slowly, agonizingly pushed in the first few inches of his monstrous dick. Nathan’s eyes were rolled back in his head as he enjoyed the bliss of Murderface’s hot, tight insides almost squeezing the life out of his pulsing cock.
At the moment, Murderface was not having quite as much fun as Nathan. He began screaming and raving at Nathan, although he was still biting into his own arm, and was therefore muffled. Nathan didn’t understand the exact words his band mate was spewing at him, but like anyone forcing pain upon someone with a volatile personality, he got the gist of it. For the benefit of the readers, Murderface’s harangue will be written legibly.
“YOU PIECE OF GOD DAMN SHIT! YOU TAKE THAT MONSTER OUT OF ME RIGHT! FUCKING! NOW! OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!!”
With anyone else, these words would have worked wonders, and they would have worked immediately, but because Nathan hated his family so much, Murderface’s words were more like a love song to him.
“Oohh my god…I’ll kill your family, too!!”
He wrapped his arms tight Murderface’s torso from behind, one hand snaking down the shorter man’s hairy body to his swollen cock, grabbing and stroking in an attempt to soothe as he eased himself inside the bassist’s body, inch by agonizing inch. Being the Prince of Self-Destruction, Murderface was no stranger to pain, but he’d honestly never experienced anything quite this horrific before. Compared to this, stabbing his knife into his arm would be a paper cut. He was torn now between screaming in pain and screaming out the pleasure he felt as Nathan worked his cock, rubbing his thumb over the head as he stood pressed up tight against Murderface’s backside, so close they were like one person, his massive body shuddering and shaking and sweating heavily as he finally pushed himself all the way inside his band mate.
“Jesus…” Nathan groaned, the fingers of his free hand digging into the scarred flesh of Murderface’s chest, dragging his nails across his skin to leave a mark of raised red welts. He’d never felt anything quite like this before…It was so amazing already, just being impaled inside Murderface. He couldn’t make sense of why it was so incredibly good or even why he’d wanted it so bad. He ran his hands over Murderface’s stomach and chest under his shirt, felt the hair, raised scars and rough skin. He buried his nose in Murderface’s hair and breathed in, almost gagging at the smell of greasy, unwashed hair and acrid sweat. Why the fuck did he want to shove his cock inside this monster so very badly and absolutely wreck him?
Then it hit him…He wanted to fuck Murderface because it was BRUTAL.
With his hands gripping Murderface’s hips tightly, Nathan grit his teeth and pulled his hips back, making sure that Murderface could feel as his length left his body by moving achingly slow. He immediately rammed every inch straight back in, growling out a low moan as his band mate screamed out his pain. Nathan’s blood raced faster, coursing hot through his veins as he created a harsh, rough pace, pounding in and out and enjoying the surrounding pressure so immensely, he honestly didn’t care if Murderface liked it or not, but he did try to think of his band mate as he kept his hands squeezed around the bassist’s swollen cock, weeping precum that Nathan smeared around the head with his thumb. He moaned long and loud as his hips worked hard and fast, each thrust deep and hard enough to hit the spot inside Murderface that rocketed intense, blinding pleasure throughout his entire body. He cried out sharply each time the spot was hit, each time his knees almost gave way and he almost fell. If he’d ever had any idea how fucking AWESOME guy-sex felt on the receiving end, he would’ve spread his legs for some idiot a hell of a long time ago. The movement of Nathan’s hips rocking against him so hard had a negative drawback, though. Occasionally, he would move so fast that Murderface’s head would be slammed into the fridge door, but when he yelled about that, Nathan had assumed he was still keeping Murderface in a state of constant ecstasy, and did nothing about it as he was lost in the task of bringing himself to happy oblivion.
Nathan released Murderface’s cock and brought his hands around to the man’s backside under his shirt, sinking his nails into the skin above his shoulder blade and dragging down slowly. He reveled in the constant screams he drew from the bassist and was all too happy to encourage them. He marked up his band mate’s back with criss crossed lines of red welts that made Murderface scream and shudder as he was maimed. Nathan lifted the bottom of Murderface’s shirt and vest, forcing them up and over the man’s head. Because his wrists were bound, the clothing stayed with him, but now Nathan was able to see the slight damage he’d inflicted on Murderface’s back. Random red scratches covered his pale, furry back, the surrounding skin red and angry and hot. Nathan’s eyes slid shut but the image of Murderface’s back was burned into his retinas and he knew he’d see that vision even in his sleep.
His pace increased as Nathan momentarily lost control, his breath coming in short gasps as low, sexy growls rumbled from his throat and he pushed his cock in and out of Murderface, harder and harder until he once again had the man screaming out agony and incredible pleasure for every resident of the haus to overhear. With his dick buried so deep within the tight hole, Nathan could feel that he was coming very close to the final stage of sex play. Anticipation for those few seconds built up within him and he kept his band mate pinned hard against the fridge as he shoved in almost painfully, his teeth bared and grit hard as he gasped and grunted and felt up Murderface’s body and imagined, oh he imagined other things they could do together, later, with the collection of toys both of them had amassed over the years of fame. Murderface’s S&M collection, with sharp knives and clamps, whips and blindfolds, leather and cock rings…And Nathan’s, his sprawling collection of restraints, gags, and collars…

That was what he needed. The thought of Murderface handcuffed to his bed, glaring hate and swearing at him, his cock hard and hole ready, desperate for Nathan’s length to pound inside and make him see stars…Wearing a collar. A heavy, thick leather collar with huge metal rings, and a black leather leash attached…Murderface trying to pull his face away as Nathan pushed his own throbbing cock against the bassist’s face, urging him to suck and lick, and then using the collar to jerk his head back, pull him forward and shove his erection past Murderface’s lips, force him to open his mouth wider until his dry lips cracked and he could only breathe through his nose…
“God! Uhnnn!!” Nathan snarled and bit his pointed teeth hard into the back of Murderface’s neck, sinking them harder and deeper as he slammed his cock inside hard once more, then again, harder until…until…Nathan’s muscles all clenched at once and his body grew rigid as the initial, mind-numbing pleasure enveloped his entire being, erasing all thoughts, leaving only the ecstasy…He shot hot cum into Murderface’s ass and weakly humped against him a few more times, shuddering and breathing hard and heavy as he rode the waves of his high, before finally he crashed and leaned with all his weight upon Murderface’s back, completely spent and oh so satisfied.

After a few moments’ recovery, he stood and pulled his limp cock from his band mate, both of them wincing at the action. Nathan sighed and tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up, feeling regret that it was over already. He took a moment to observe Murderface, still shivering with unfulfilled pleasure, breathing low and heavy with his dick thrusting out, wanting stimulation or a hole to plunge into. So it wasn’t over.
Nathan wordlessly grabbed Murderface by the shoulders and turned him around, pushing his back hard up against the fridge. He stared at him, desire burning hot in his eyes. He reached out and ran his fingers along his band mate’s jaw, touching and caressing and still aghast that he was so hot for this repulsive excuse of a human being…Nathan came in closer and held their lips together for another kiss, a softer kiss, this time. No biting or pain, just lips meeting and melting together. Nathan groaned and reached up with a hand on either side of Murderface’s jaw, his lips mashed hard against his band mate’s, then pulling back to suck on his fat bottom lip, teeth lightly grazing in a playful, loving nip before bringing their lips back together, pushing his tongue into Murderface’s mouth, almost surprised when the man so willingly accepted it this time. Murderface moaned into their kiss, sliding his tongue against Nathan’s and tasting leftovers of tequila inside his cheeks. He wanted some tequila when they were done with this; an entire bottle for himself. He grunted, his bound wrists trapped between their bodies and losing circulation, going numb. He grabbed at Nathan’s black shirt and pulled on it, roughly pushing his hard cock against the front of the singer’s pants to try and give him a hint. Murderface still needed relief.

Nathan pulled away from the kiss and peered between their bodies, grinning at the hard purple head that oozed precum at him, begging for assistance.
Nathan fell to his knees before Murderface, sending waves of absolute, pole-axed shock spiraling through the bassist’s mind as he looked down and watched Nathan Explosion swallow a mouthful of cock. He moaned aloud and his head rolled back on his shoulders as Nathan’s thin lips formed a tight suction around his dick and sucked hard. He drew his head back and licked messily at the head, running his tongue along the outer rim and down the underside. Murderface wanted to know when exactly it was that Nathan had received a metal for blow jobs, because he was fucking astounding. The pure shock of having his hog sucked by Nathan had left Murderface shaking. His wrists were still bound, but he flopped his hands on top of Nathan’s head, grabbing handfuls of his long black hair and tugging. He jerked his hips forward to try and go deeper into the front man’s wide open mouth, not really caring if he made the man gag. The tip hit up against the back of Nathan’s throat and he did, indeed, gag a little, but the movement of his throat only served to increase the stimulation on Murderface’s cock. He yelled and groaned as he gripped Nathan’s hair tight in his fists and impaled the singer’s mouth until his balls bounced against the man’s chin. He grinned evilly as he rocked his hips back and forth, sending panic through Nathan’s mind as he tried desperately to accustom himself to this, trying to breathe through his nose and just relax his throat to keep from puking as Murderface’s dick filled his mouth and slammed against the very back of his mouth. The heat of Nathan’s mouth and the slight tickle of his teeth sliding against the highly sensitive skin of his cock was proving to be too much for Murderface to handle for very long. He yelled out, his fingers gripping his band mate’s hair painfully, pulling and yanking and most likely removing a few hairs from the scalp as he bucked his hips violently back and forth, his screams becoming more erratic and lapsing into entire sentences composed of curses.
“Shit, shit, SHIIIITT!!” Murderface rammed hard into Nathan’s mouth again as his cock stiffened up, and he shot off straight into Nathan’s throat.
The front man’s eyes widened and he gagged violently, trying to pull away as Murderface’s come squirted into his mouth, but the bassist’s grip on his hair was so painful he couldn’t escape. He tried not to choke or hurl as Murderface pumped his hips a few more times, groaning out his satisfaction as the last of his seed leaked down Nathan’s throat. He pulled his spent cock from Nathan’s mouth, head still rolled back as the last bits of pleasure enveloped him.
Nathan fell back on his ass, sitting up and supporting his weight with his arms as he panted, looking at up Murderface with distain, unhappy that he’d been forced into deep-throating. The bassist glared defiantly at him, then kneeled down, holding his bound wrists out to Nathan. The singer stared stupidly for a moment before he reached out and unbuckled the belt, pulling it off Murderface’s wrists.
“What was, uh…What was that all about?” He asked, referring, of course, to the rape of his mouth.
Murderface rubbed at his red, raw wrists, and looked up at Nathan with a gap-toothed grin. He reached out and grabbed a handful of Nathan’s hair, jerking his head close so he could yell right at his face, his other hand held hard under his band mate’s chin, his grip squishing the lower parts of Nathan’s face together to make a really funny look on his face.
“THAT WAS ABOUT PAYBACK!” He shrieked, “That’s what you get for JUMPING me in the fucking kitchen!”
Nathan snarled, smacking Murderface’s hands away from his face. He rubbed his sore cheeks, looking like an upset kid.
“Oh come on, you liked it!” He insisted, rising to his feet and - gasp – helping Murderface to stand. Murderface winced, and his sore ass protested whenever he moved in the slightest. He wanted to go lay down for the next three days. Wheel a TV into his room, bring along an assortment of chips and liquor…
“You liked it…” Nathan said again, bringing Murderface out of his lazy daydream. The bassist’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he averted his eyes.
“Maybe…Maybe I liked it…”
Encouraged, Nathan grinned.
“So…You wanna do it again sometime?”
“Not anytime soon, ya dildo,” Murderface flipped him off, glaring, “But yeah, we can do that again…It’s fucking brutal.”
He turned and started to walk out of the kitchen, fully intending to go hole up in his bedroom until his ass stopped screaming at him. He reflected on what had just happened, surprise sex in the kitchen…He decided that surprise sex was rude, that anyone who was about to become involved in any sort of sexual activity without their knowledge should at least be given some warning. And then he remembered, earlier that very same week, he’d committed the very same atrocity, sneaking into Toki’s room late at night to provide himself with some sexual gratification. But he didn’t feel sorry about that one, because he’d spent days paying for it, with that stupid guitarist following him everywhere…
Wait…Nathan wouldn’t do that too…Would he?
Murderface was at the kitchen door when a thought struck him. He turned around fast and glared at Nathan, who was trying to burn the taste of cum off his tastebuds with hard alcohol.
“NATHAN!” Murderface’s sudden cry surprised the front man and he coughed mid-swallow, choking and gasping on a mouthful of alcohol, “You better not start following me everywhere, or I’m gonna kill you!!”
There, he’d said it. Murderface rounded about once again and left the kitchen. Nathan stood there, breathing hard and still coughing after almost being murdered by alcohol. He stared at the doorway where Murderface had been standing, yelling at him. Something about not following him…?
“..The fuck does that mean?” He muttered, trying to clear his throat as he fumbled around in his pockets and dragged out his voice recorder, clicking it on. “Song idea…Killed by alcohol.”
He switched it off and left the kitchen. Let the clean-up crew worry about the mess; he had a new song to write.
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Midnight Voyeur