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Pallin' Around	By : Ceefax Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1354 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Pallin' Around
- 1
***
Pallin' Around

By Ceefax
***
It was the aftermath of a writing session. Pickles had departed in search of intoxicating substances (different intoxicating substances, not these), and Nathan and Skwisgaar remained, spread out across Nathan's bed along with a litter of notepads, bottles and snack wrappers, bullshitting and generally winding down.
It had been a good session. The work had come easy, and felt like fun, the way it had back before the music had been work. Nathan tucked his hand behind his head and watched Skwisgaar gather his own notes together, sorting them into some kind of order. Earlier, he had stolen one of Nathan's pencils and done that twisting-and-stabbing thing to keep his hair up. Now the edifice was beginning to collapse - bright blond strands falling forward to frame his face.
It always pissed Nathan off when he tied his hair back. It made him look too normal. On those grounds, he reached over and yanked out the pencil, grinning at the consequent golden waterfall.
"What de fuck?" Skwisgaar demanded, equal parts annoyed and amused, shoving his hair out of his face with both hands, and retreating out of reach.
"You look better like that," Nathan explained, his grin widening. It was like in movies, when the heroine took off her glasses, let her hair down, and was suddenly beautiful. Now all they needed was a hero to say 'why, Mr Swigelf, you're beautiful...' Oh, and some glasses. "Hey, what's 'mister' in Swedish?"
Skwisgaar frowned at him in a way that suggested he'd retreated into his own thoughts for a little too long. "Herr."
"That's German."
"It ams Swedish as well."
"Oh." For some reason, that was a little disappointing. He drained the last flat, warm dregs of his beer and watched his friend rummage through the bottles, in search of one that still held its contents. "Hey," he said, addressing Skwisgaar's butt and the soles of his bare feet, the rest of him being occupied with searching the floor, "you remember that time we went to that party at that girl's house, and that guy came in off the street selling roses, and they kicked him out but he came back in again, and so we beat the shit out of him and took all his roses?"
That had been a good night. Nathan had shown up at the door of the girl he'd been kinda-dating at the time, nicely buzzed from booze and violence, bearing a double armful of red roses. That had been a very good night.
Skwisgaar crawled back onto the bed, having hunted down a clanking sextet of fresh beer, which he dropped beside Nathan. "...Ja," he said, slightly bemused. "Dat is... years ago." He turned to Nathan and waited patiently for him to open the beer.
It was years ago. Before Dethklok. Back when Magnus had just been Nathan's roommate, and Skwisgaar had just been one of the guys who hung around with Magnus and talked about guitar gear for five-hour stretches.
"Yeah. That was awesome." He pulled two tall green bottles free and thumped the caps off, using the cunning little metal loop built into the bedpost. They both took a long pull. "Hey, d'you remember that time we got those amps off that guy, and we tried to get them right across town on the back of my bike?"
Skwisgaar shifted around so he was sitting facing Nathan, one leg folded under him. "Ja, and I also remembers you bastard cat is sick on me while I's sleeps, and dat guy t'rows de bottles of piss ats us on de stage, and when we hasn'ts money to pays de heat..." He frowned at Nathan, head on one side. "What, you doesn't want to being famous trillionaire? You wants to go lives in de shithole and freezes and eats crap?"
"No, I'm just... er... you know." He'd had the past on his mind all evening. He blamed Skwisgaar, actually, who'd shown up to the writing session in a light grey t-shirt and faded blue jeans - slightly reminiscent of the old days, when light grey was the darkest colour he'd contemplate. After their second album, Nathan had finally put his foot down, on the grounds that the whole everyone-in-black-except-for-one-guy-in-white thing was so fucking nineteen ninety eight.
Skwisgaar slid down a little, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. "You knows when Magnus makes that gear in de wall? Before de place falls down?" He mimed carving, using his beer bottle as the knife.
"Yeah?" It had been in Nathan and Magnus's apartment. Skwisgaar had progressed from guy-who-hangs-around-with-Magnus to Magnus's-friend-who's-crashing-on-our-couch-for-a-few-weeks. The huge gear-within-a-gear had been carved into the plaster of the living room wall at the end of an epic all-night brainstorming session. They were still calling the band 'Deathclock', and had a total of three songs, two of which had music. The ceiling of the downstairs hallway had collapsed shortly afterwards and the building had been condemned. "So what?"
"So, if some guy takes dat, before it's smashed, den dey coulds sells it now for a krillions dollars."
Nathan slumped down a little further, elbowing pillows into a more comfortable configuration. It had been the very beginning of what would eventually become the Dethklok logo, carved into the wall of the apartment of the three founding members. A krillions dollars sounded about right.
"Yeah, but... nobody knew who we were. We didn't even know who we were. It just got... knocked down. Like the rest of that fucking place." He'd watched as much of the demolition as he could. Buildings getting smashed up was brutal.
"You ever t'inks it gets this bigs?"
"Yeah. And so did you, so shut up." A good half of that very epic brainstorming session had been how they would spend the money when they were rich and famous, no matter that their supper that night had been nothing but bread and butter. And they only had butter because Skwisgaar had stolen it from the restaurant where he washed dishes.
"Ja, I t'inks dat we makes it bigs." He slid down to lie flat on his back, hands tucked behind his head. "Maybe ends up a littles biggers dan I t'orts..."
Nathan slid down to lie beside him. His foot hit the base of a precariously perched half-empty wine bottle. It tipped and, with a cheerful glugging sound, set to emptying its contents all over his mattress. "Shit..." He lurched upright and grabbed it by the neck. A few red droplets ran over his hand to drip down his forearm. "Shut the fuck up!"
He splashed the remains at Skwisgaar, who scrambled out of the way, still laughing, not quite fast enough to avoid a hit to the back. "Ahhh! Dat's cold, fuckskings asshole!"
Nathan's grin grew predatory, canines showing. He loved play-fighting, although it wasn't much fun with Skwisgaar. He tended to simply surrender as soon as one laid hands on him. He was a lover, not a fighter.
True to form, as Nathan's free hand grabbed him by the wrist he didn't even struggle, but let himself be pulled in. Sharp, white teeth on display, Nathan held the bottle over his head and slowly tipped it.
"Nat'an..."
There was maybe a sixth of the bottle remaining, sliding slowly towards the neck. Skwisgaar raised his other hand to fend it off, but Nathan hooked it behind his knee, pinning it down, ending up kneeling, awkwardly straddling his friend's chest. The bottle tipped further. With a sudden lunge, Skwisgaar caught the neck between his teeth, sealed his lips around the glass, jerked his head back downwards, and gulped the wine hastily down.
Nathan, rather taken by the ingenuity of this, gave a low snort of laughter and tipped the bottle vertically, watching the pale throat below him work as the last of the wine disappeared. He tossed the empty bottle carelessly over the edge of the bed, where it landed with a crash amongst its fellows, and grabbed Skwisgaar's other wrist to pin him down properly.
This didn't produce much of a reaction, other than, "you lets me go," and a half-hearted tug against Nathan's grip.
"Make me."
"Fucks you."
But he arched upwards, a doomed attempt to throw Nathan off. "Yeah, mamma. Come on." Moving down, Nathan hooked his feet over bony, jeans-clad shins, effectively immobilising him.
Nonetheless, a wicked smile began to spread across Skwisgaar's face. Nathan's movement had left them essentially crotch to crotch, and now he squirmed slowly beneath him, rubbing against him. "You know what I as well remembers, Nat'ans? I remembers suckings your dick inside of dat little alley. You remembers dat?"
It had been the first time they'd met. Nathan had been wasted and, well, it was a free blow-job. Afterwards, he'd staggered through the party, looking for Magnus. And when he'd told him, "dude, I, er, think your friend's kinda gay," Magnus had just laughed and said he did that to everyone, regardless of gender. "Just tell him 'no'," he'd said, "he'll back off." Saying no honestly hadn't occured to him. Nathan had just gone slightly red, and drunk more beer.
"You likedst it, didn'ts you? You likes me ons my knees for you, down ins de garbage?" He had dropped his voice down low, the way he did when he talked to girls he liked. "You like to makes me dirty, Nat'ans?"
"Fuck you!" Nathan lifted his body away from the tantalising rubbing, knowing full well that by shifting his centre of gravity, he was leaving himself vulnerable. Indeed, Skwisgaar's subsequent heave very nearly toppled him.
He used his feet to shove Skwisgaar's knees further apart, providing himself with a wider, more secure base. Taking advantage of his distraction, Skwisgaar arched his body upwards, pressing their lips together.
Nathan jerked instinctively backwards, releasing his hold on Skwisgaar's wrists. The blond surged upright, trying to push Nathan back.
Catching himself on his toes, the tendons at the backs of his knees protesting at the sudden load, Nathan wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar's ribcage (he could clearly feel individual ribs beneath his fingers, the skinny little fuck), and slammed them both back down onto the mattress. Skwisgaar's moaning gasp as the breath was knocked out of him was loud in his ear.
"You wanna play, huh?" he growled, sitting back up, straddling thin, bony hips, and grabbing for wrists once again.
Skwisgaar brought both knees up and hit him hard in the back, knocking him forwards. Locking his arms around Nathan's neck, he rolled them both until he was on top. "Oh, I t'inks you wants to be playing," he said, with a triumphant grin. Not the calculated, seductive, hey-baby-I'm-a-sexy-rich-rock-star-wanna-come-back-to-my-castle grin he'd been using earlier, but a genuine having-fun grin.
"Yeah?" Nathan asked, grinning right back. He could feel his cock pressing eagerly against its denim-and-metal prison, and it was clear that Skwisgaar was in the exact same state. It was easy enough to shove him off balance, and they rolled again. This time, Skwisgaar managed to wrap his legs around Nathan's waist. That felt pretty amazing.
Skwisgaar didn't resist as his wrists were gathered together and held above his head, pinning down by one of Nathan's hands. He only squeezed his thighs tighter, just above Nathan's hipbones, and set to grinding again.
Nathan rested his free hand lightly around that elegant length of pale throat, the day's stubble pricking against his palm and fingers. "You gonna give it up?"
Arching his body upwards, Skwisgaar shot out his tongue and licked Nathan from collar to earlobe. "You goingsk to makes me?"
With a growl, Nathan tightened his grip and leaned down to bite - junction of neck and shoulder, jaw, ear. Skwisgaar was panting underneath him, and his grinding had turned to squirming. "You want me to make you?" He nipped gently at an ear. "That what you want, huh? Dirty little bitch?"
He turned his head, kissed and licked at Nathan's neck and the side of his face - all he could reach.
Nathan pulled away, sat back up, and aimed a slap at a thigh, still clinging to him like amorous ivy. "Let go."
Obediently, Skwisgaar unwrapped himself to lie, legs spread wide, looking up at Nathan towering above him.
Without letting go of the captive wrists, Nathan used his free hand to explore. A squeeze to the bulge in the front of his jeans was rewarded with a gasp. He slid his hand down to stroke along one slender thigh, the muscles beneath the worn denim tensing then relaxing at his touch.
Back up again. A light slap to that flat stomach, just because, made him jerk upward. "Hey..."
"What?" Nathan grinned and pushed his hand up over his friend's chest to cup his throat again.
Skwisgaar rolled his head compliantly backwards, granting full access. "Asshole..." Lifting one leg and bending his knee back against his chest, he managed to tuck one bare foot into Nathan's groin, his toes kneading and massaging.
Nathan let him for a few seconds, before shoving him back down flat, then pushing his legs together and sitting down heavily on his thighs.
After a moment's profitless squirming, Skwisgaar fixed him with a pleading gaze. "You lets me up? I sucks your dick...?"
"Maybe later. If you're, ah... If you're good."
Another roll of his hips, thrusting against thin air. "I's always good. You lets me? You likesk it. I knows dat you does..."
Nathan reached back and pulled his hunting knife out of his boot. "Later," he said, grinning at the sudden look of worry that had sprung into Skwisgaar's eyes. "If you're good."
He stroked the flat of the blade against his captive's cheek, then down over his chest. Grey steel hissed softly against grey cotton. Skwisgaar gasped as the edge brushed gently over a nipple, then again as the cold metal reached the junction between t-shirt and jeans.
"Nat'ans..." Yes, he did sound a little worried, now. "You not goings to..." He broke off as the knife began to travel back upwards, this time beneath the t-shirt. He rolled his head back again as it reached his collarbone, submissively baring his throat.
Soft cotton bunched around his wrist, Nathan traced the tip of the knife from ear to ear, leaving the faintest of white scratches behind. He leaned in and licked the path his blade had taken, watching the line change from white to pink. Skwisgaar gave a little squeaking cry, and wriggled underneath him.
Kneeling back, he snagged the gut hook into the t-shirt's collar, and tugged downwards. It parted easily. He split the shirt into two pieces and used the knife to flip the cut flaps aside. With the knife dropped casually down by his knee, he pressed his palm to the centre of Skwisgaar's thin chest, then gave in to the impulse to press his ear against his friend's ribcage, to properly appreciate that pounding heart.
Skwisgaar took advantage of his position to rub his imprisoned erection against Nathan's stomach. Nathan abruptly dismounted, grabbed a handful of silky blond hair, and dragged him off the edge of the bed.
"Hey! Nat'ans!" He was clutching at Nathan's wrist with both hands, and when he was released, on his knees amongst the detritus surrounding the bed, he scowled upward, fingers pressed to his scalp. "Mudderfucker..."
"You wanted to suck my cock." Nathan pulled the remains of the sliced t-shirt down his arms and used it to tie his hands behind his back. It wasn't the most secure of bindings, and probably wouldn't stand up to a great amount of struggling, but Nathan had the distinct impression it wouldn't have to.
"Fuckingsk bitch," Skwisgaar told him, pissily; before, quite unprompted, leaning forward, taking Nathan's zipper in his teeth, and pulling it precisely downwards.
"Only one bitch around here," Nathan said, popping the button himself. His dick sprung eagerly free.
"Huh. Ja. Is a real big bitch, too." He licked Nathan tenderly from root to tip, then sucked the head between his lips and slid slowly downwards.
"Oh, fuck, yes..." Nathan pushed both hands into his hair, blond strands carding through his fingers as Skwisgaar swallowed his cock. "Yeah, that's..." he paused as Skwisgaar pulled back far enough to twirl his tongue around the head. "That's fucking good. That's so fucking good..."
It was the best blow job he'd had in a long time. Groupies sucked cock like first year drama students at Hollywood auditions, supermodels sucked cock like they were donating their fucking kidneys, and hookers sucked cock like... Well, like it was their job. Skwisgaar sucked cock like it was the only thing in the world he could possibly want to do.
His hair kept working its way free of Nathan's grip, and he kept pushing it back. It felt nice between his fingers - thick and soft and silky. Rebecca had had pretty blonde hair, but she'd never let him play with it, she'd just slapped his hands away, or snapped "you're pulling, get your stupid fat hands away from me." She'd sucked cock like she was doing something disgusting but necessary, like pulling a clog of hair out of the drain. And she'd never let him finish that way.
"You unties me?" Skwisgaar asked. "I does dis better wit' hands." He lapped delicately at the tip.
Nathan looked down at him, kneeling between his legs, knees spread wide for purchase, cheeks flushed from effort, panting for breath, cock still swollen in his jeans. With his hands tied behind him, the wiry muscles in his arms stood out. Nathan stroked the smooth skin of his bare chest. "No," he told him. "I like you better this way."
Skwisgaar nipped gently at the head of his cock, and Nathan pulled him backwards with a handful of hair. "Hey, behave yourself."
"Fuckingk douchebag."
"Sooner you..." his train of thought was temporarily derailed as Skwisgaar chose that moment to slide back onto his cock. "Sooner you... finish, sooner you... can... oh, fuck, Skwisgaar..."
He was alternating between deep-throating and just holding Nathan's cock in his mouth, tongue rubbing lazily against the underside. Every so often he'd pull almost all the way off and swirl his tongue around the head, lapping at the tip, his nose blowing hot, panting breaths over the wet, sensitised skin of the shaft.
Nathan closed his eyes and let his head fall back. His hands increased their grip on Skwisgaar's head, and his hips began to thrust, almost of their own accord. His eyes shot open, however, when teeth closed on his cock in something a little more than a warning nip. He yelled and jerked free.
"You can'tst do dat," Skwisgaar told him, firmly, "you too big." He offered a consoling lick, flicking the tip of his tongue against the slit. "You lets me does it, ja?" And he sucked his way back down to Nathan's balls.
"You bit me, you fucking asshole!"
Skwisgaar didn't respond. At least, not verbally. Instead he turned his eyes up to meet Nathan's, his mouth still stuffed full of cock, and very, very slowly, slid his way up and back, up and back, tongue working the whole time.
Nathan couldn't look away. Couldn't think of anything to say. His dick still hurt where teeth had closed on it, but it was doing nothing to stop his building orgasm. His hands squeezed slowly into fists, his toes spread and braced themselves the soles of his boots, and he finally broke the pinning, penetrating bright blue gaze as he flung his head back and roared...
Bright pulses of scream-activated lighting beat against his eyelids. He felt Skwisgaar pull back until his lips were sealed just behind the head, felt him swallow and swallow again, then suck the rapidly softening shaft back inside, lapping him through the aftershocks.
Nathan flopped back onto the bed, feet on the floor, head among the scattered pillows. He shut his eyes and gave a low moan of contentment.
Skwisgaar clambered back onto the bed. There was a certain amount of shifting movement, and Nathan finally forced his eyes open to check he wasn't being ambushed.
"Littles help?" Skwisgaar asked. He was lying on his side, his still-bound hands towards Nathan. Nathan yawned hugely, tucked his dick back into his pants (the skin wasn't broken, although there were some suspiciously teeth-shaped red marks), kicked his boots off, and turned to investigate.
He'd managed to pull the knots tight. Although the wine-stained ex-t-shirt connecting his wrists had lengthened, he was still firmly caught. Nathan pushed his wrists back together to provide some slack, and began picking at the knots.
"You makes a lot of noise when you comes," Skwisgaar commented. He grinned over his shoulder. "I likes dat."
Nathan felt the blood rush to his face. "Shut the fuck up," he muttered under his breath, leaning forward so his hair fell over his face. Skwisgaar laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle, and the fucking knots wouldn't give. Every time he thought he'd picked a little bit of slack into one, Skwisgaar's fucking wrists would drift apart again, and pull the whole thing taut.
"For fuck's sake..." He scooped up the hunting knife before the frustration boiled over.
"Hey!" Skwisgaar pulled away, twisting to get his feet under him. "You amn't comingsk near my hands wit' dat t'ing!"
"Calm the fuck down. I'm not gonna hurt you..." He grabbed the t-shirt handcuffs, yanked Skwisgaar unceremoniously back down onto the bed, doubled the thin cotton, stuck the knife into the loop, and pulled.
Skwisgaar looked down at his hands, now in front of him, and each bearing a bracelet of knotted shirt. "Oh. Well, okay, den."
Peace descended, while Skwisgaar worked himself free of the remains of his bonds. Nathan closed his eyes, feeling post-orgasmic and still lightly buzzed.
The mattress dipped beneath him, and he opened his eyes to see Skwisgaar leaning over him to reach the bedpost-mounted bottle opener. Two beers were cracked, and one handed down to Nathan, who took it with a grunt of thanks.
They both settled back. "You was bes pretty mean to me, back dere," Skwisgaar said, conversationally.
"Well, you bit my fucking cock, so... you know. We're even."
"Huh. You gets to come. Dat amn't even."
"You wanna fuck somebody, go fuck somebody. I'm not gonna suck your cock. You're into that shit. I'm not."
Skwisgaar sat up and leaned across to rid himself of some of the extraneous garbage littering the bed. Feeling somewhat mischievous, Nathan grabbed him around the waist and pulled him down over his lap. "I coulda been a lot meaner," he pointed out, aiming a light slap at one denim-clad buttock, and dodging the flailing blow that resulted. He spanked him twice more, just because he could, before letting him roll away out of reach.
"Fucker! You only tries to makes me pissed, makes me go. You knows dat you owes me."
"Yeah?" Nathan let his eyes drop meaningfully to the recently reappeared bulge in the front of his bandmate's jeans. "You don't seem too pissed to me. You liked that?"
It wasn't exactly surprising. It would be much harder to find something that didn't turn Skwisgaar on.
He shuffled tentatively closer. When it seemed he wouldn't be immediately manhandled, he draped himself over Nathan's side, pulling one black-nailed hand to his crotch. "Please, Nat'ans? You only strokes me off, ja?"
Nathan pulled his hand back. "No! I don't... I'm not gonna touch your dick, man."
"Then you kisses me and I jerks off? And you strokes me some more wit' de knife?"
"Fuck, Skwisgaar..." He covered his face with both hands, rubbing at his eyes. When he opened them, Skwisgaar was sitting up beside him, holding the knife and running his fingers curiously along the edge. "Hey, careful with that, it's fucking sharp."
"Ja, for really is. You kills ant'ing wit' dis?"
"No. I... er... skinned some things with it. Cut things up. You don't... You kill things with a gun."
"Hmm." Laying the knife on his lap, but keeping one hand on the hilt, he hooked his arm around Nathan's shoulders, kissed his way up his neck, along his jaw to his mouth. "You kisses me," he whispered, his lips brushing against Nathan's as they moved. "And pulls my hair, I likes dat."
Nathan's cock, spent and sleeping as it was, twitched a little at that. "You shut the fuck up and do it," he growled, twisting his fist into soft blond hair and jerking back.
Skwisgaar moaned softly and leaned in for another kiss. His tongue licked slowly over Nathan's lips, then between them, and that was nice enough. A little stubbly, but nice. Rebecca had always seemed to have far too much spit - after kissing her, he'd felt like he had a mouthful of excess, slightly-too-cold, definitely-not-his saliva to swallow. Skwisgaar nipped gently at the tip of his tongue, and he bit down on that soft lower lip in retaliation, pinching it between his teeth and pulling back until it slipped free.
"Ja," Skwisgaar breathed softly. But, rather than going for his own dick, his hands were creeping under Nathan's t-shirt, pushing it up and scritching short, blunt nails over Nathan's skin. "You takes it off for me?"
"What, you don't want to just cut it off?" It wasn't quite a joke - the knife still lay across Skwisgaar's lap.
"No. Wants you to takes it off."
Nathan tugged his shirt over his head. Skwisgaar leaned in to press their naked torsos together, his hands going to Nathan's hair, his lips to his mouth.
Nathan closed his fist on a handful of hair and pulled Skwisgaar back to break the kiss. "Will you just fucking jerk off?"
Skwisgaar smiled, his eyes hooded. He said nothing, but took Nathan's hand again and wrapped it around the hilt of the hunting knife.
"Yeah, fine, okay," he muttered, his fingers closing on the textured grip. He would have to get a new knife after this. The thought of cleaning a deer with his dad, using the very knife that... It was too wrong for words.
He lifted the knife. Stroked the flat carefully over his friend's cheek, and Skwisgaar leaned into the touch. His hands ran down Nathan's chest and belly, long fingers passing over dark chest hair and raised white surgical scars.
The knife travelled up and down each of Skwisgaar's arms, across his stomach, over his chest. The tip gently teased at pale pink nipples, and the bastard still hadn't so much as unzipped his flies.
Nathan growled and pressed the flat of the knife against Skwisgaar's throat. "Take your fucking pants off."
Big grin at that. "Mmm. I does anyt'ing you says..." He shimmied hastily out of his jeans. His cock, flushed a rather pretty rose pink, stood upright, bobbing a little with every heartbeat. Nathan realised he'd been staring and dragged his gaze back upwards to meet a very amused pair of blue eyes.
"You wants to touch it?" he purred, settling himself down in Nathan's lap and snuggling up to his belly. "I really wants dat you touches it..."
Nathan grabbed him by the wrist, and put his own hand firmly on his cock.
"Pft. Fines, den." He leaned in for another kiss, the pace just as languid as before, stroking his cock with the same slow rhythm.
Nathan kissed back, pushed his fingers into the silky blond mane and closed his hand tight enough to keep up a controlling tension. That was met with a deep moan of approval, but the pace remained slow.
After a few minutes, Nathan used his handful of hair to pull them apart again. "Get on your hands and knees."
"Hmm? You has an even gooders idea?" He laid one last kiss onto Nathan's lips, then did as he was told.
Yeah, this was nice. Asses were pretty awesome, and Skwisgaar's was a particularly fine specimen, even if he was a dude. With a grin, Nathan flicked at the soft pink balls framed between his spread legs.
Skwisgaar yelped in pain and indignation, jerked away and clutched at himself. "What is de fuck being wrong wit' you!?" He curled into a protective ball as Nathan reached out for him, chuckling, but received nothing more than a large, comforting hand rubbing over his hip. "Heh. That was awesome. C'mon. Hands and knees. Let's fuckin' do this."
"Dat fuckskings hurt, douchewipe!"
"C'mon, I hardly even touched you. Up. Move. Now."
Shooting a glare back over his shoulder, Skwisgaar assumed the position, slightly more defensively this time.
Nathan laughed softly as he ran the flat of his hand down his friend's back, followed by a light slap to one round, full buttock. "You hate it so much, go fuck around with somebody else."
"You just jerks me off like I wants, and we's be finished alreadsdys by now." He lowered his head and shoulders, taking his weight on one forearm. He licked at his free hand and reached back to stroke himself, just as slow and steady as before.
Nathan retrieved his beer and took a long pull as he rubbed his thumb down Skwisgaar's arched spine, bumping over each individual vertebra. He dug his nails in and scratched, pulling outwards from the spine, down over his ribs, leaving faint white lines behind. Skwisgaar moaned in approval, so he did it again, moving down to mark a neat set of tiger stripes into his friend's back.
When he leaned forward to lick, the white skin blossoming into red beneath his tongue, Skwisgaar's moans grew louder and his back arched even further, pushing his butt invitingly upward. With a low snort of laughter, Nathan dragged his nails over the offered flesh, completing the pattern and pulling the round buttocks apart.
Skwisgaar pushed back into his touch. Nathan ran his hands down and in, over the tops of his thighs, and slid one hand down further to cup soft, vulnerable testicles. With a gasp, Skwisgaar spread his legs even further, pushing his butt higher. "Slut," Nathan told him, fondly, and gently squeezed.
"Ah, Nat'ans, fuck, jaaaah..."
Finally, the hand working his cock began to speed up. Nathan settled himself more comfortably, the last of his beer within easy reach. He rolled his fingers, balls moving softly against his palm, and traced the fingers of his other hand along the line that ran from balls to ass.
The skin was impossibly soft, and he rubbed his fingertips up and back, up and back, fascinated by the sensation, as Skwisgaar's moans turned to gasping cries.
His head was down, shoulder moving as he stroked himself. Nathan released his balls and crawled up to the head end, taking his beer with him. Skwisgaar looked up as he approached, his pace slowing but not stopping. Nathan stroked his hair out of his face. The bright blue eyes half-closed with pleasure as he leaned, cat-like, into the touch. Taking one last swallow of beer, Nathan tipped the neck of the bottle towards Skwisgaar, invitingly.
Grinning, he ran his tongue over the green glass, then closed his lips around it. Nathan tilted the bottle upwards, and he swallowed. Just as he'd done with the wine. Just as he'd done with Nathan's cock.
He drained the bottle, then craned upward, raising his face for a kiss. Nathan obliged him.
The kiss tasted like booze and sex. Skwisgaar's tongue thrust eagerly forward, fucking Nathan's mouth to the same rhythm his hand was setting. When Nathan pulled back, he made a small sound of disappointment and craned his neck, trying to follow Nathan's lips.
Nathan just shoved his head back down to the mattress. "Shut up and keep... you know. Doing that."
"What de fuck you t'inks I does?" He tossed his hair back out of his face and settled back down, ass in the air, chest pressed to the mattress, chin resting on his forearm.
Dragging fingernails over ribs as he went (making Skwisgaar squirm and twist away), Nathan returned to his former position. He scratched idly up and down the backs of lean, pale thighs, he watched the muscles move in Skwisgaar's naked back as he stroked himself, the stripes scratched into that soft white skin already fading.
He brushed the cold glass neck of the now-empty beer bottle against the tempting curve of hanging balls, and chuckled deep in his throat at Skwisgaar's half-yelp, half-laugh.
"Nathans!"
"What?" he asked, innocently, moving the bottle up to rub it between those invitingly spread buttocks.
Skwisgaar's laugh trailed off into a moan, and he squirmed.
"Kinky fucking bitch..." He rubbed the bottle back and forth, teasing, as he considered his options. He'd seen plenty of chicks shove beer bottles up their... Their you-know-whats. That was pretty fucking hot.
"Oh, fuck, Nat'an, you puts it insides of me, please..." Skwisgaar let go of his cock and scrabbled for his discarded jeans, turning the pockets out to rummage through condoms, half a dozen guitar picks, a couple of hundred dollar bills, a handful of scrunched-up receipts, a lacy pink thong, and finally a few sachets of lube. Strawberry flavoured.
Nathan ripped open a couple of tiny packets, squeezing one onto the mouth of the bottle, and one directly onto the tiny pink pucker that was being thrust enthusiastically at him.
He rubbed the rim of the bottle back and forth. "Yeah, mamma? You want this?"
Skwisgaar was pumping his cock fast and firm now, squeezing the head every third or fourth stroke. "Puts it in me..." His voice was breathless and desperate. "Please, please puts it in me..."
Easier said than done. Slender though it was, the bottle lacked the smoothly rounded tip of a cock or a dildo, and just pressing the mouth against the slick-but-still-shut hole didn't seem to achieve anything. Although Skwisgaar did seem to be enjoying it.
Nathan tilted the bottle, rubbing the rim against his friend's asshole and wondering if he shouldn't just use his fingers. He didn't want to. It looked perfectly clean from here, but it was still an asshole, and the other end of a beer bottle was close enough for him.
It was starting to open a little, giving way, tensing up, opening again, leaving itself open a little wider each time. Skwisgaar was begging now, a constant stream of "please, please, please..." Nathan pushed the bottle a very little harder, and suddenly a good inch and a half vanished inside. Skwisgaar flung his head back, his hair flying in a wave of gold, and gave a wordless keening cry.
"Whoa..." Nathan twisted the bottle slowly, watching it slide.
"Fucks me, please, please, Nat'ans, fucks me..."
Nathan really didn't have to. He gripped the base of the bottle firmly and watched, wide-eyed, as Skwisgaar, fist pumping his cock furiously, shoved himself back, rolling his hips, almost sobbing with pleasure, fucking himself on the smooth green glass.
He came with a scream, pushing back so far he took almost the entire neck, head back and eyes squeezed shut. Nathan pressed a hand to the small of his back as he gasped through the last of the aftershocks, thumb rubbing circles on the head of his cock among the last, weak pulses of come.
He lowered himself carefully onto his side, away from the wet spot, and gave a low, satisfied moan as Nathan pulled the bottle free.
After pitching their impromptu sex toy away into a far corner, Nathan pushed himself to his feet, gave Skwisgaar a brief good-job-buddy kind of pat on the ass, and picked his way carefully across the garbage-strewn floor to the bathroom.
He took a piss, brushed his teeth, washed his hands (they smelled like chemical strawberries, which could almost be a song title), threw his jeans in the vague direction of the laundry basket, located some clean underwear to sleep in, and wandered back into the bedroom.
Instead of doing the decent thing and taking the opportunity to skulk off back to his own bed, Skwisgaar had curled up under the blanket, still naked and somewhat sticky. At Nathan's entrance, he gave a heavy-lidded, satisfied smile, and lifted the edge of the blanket invitingly.
"Fine. Whatever," Nathan muttered, and climbed in, pausing only to extract the hunting knife and shove it back into his boot.
***
Several hours later, as the sun was just thinking about beginning to rise, two klokateers crept quietly into the room to clear away the detritus of the night before their lord awoke.
At the sight of the spooning, softly snoring musicians, one klokateer elbowed the other in the ribs.
With a sigh and a roll of eyes, the second klokateer pulled a wodge of cash from their back pocket and slapped it into their comrade's triumphant palm.
***
the end
***
- 1
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Pallin' Around