Anything You Want: Part 3
Title: Anything You Want
Author: Kage no Yuushi
Word Count: 2,539
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: T/P, S/T, T/S <-- yes, they're different
Warning: Porn-with-some-plot (PWSP), voyeurism, handjobs
Summary: Toki needs some help. Skwisgaar needs to learn to mind his own business...
Part 1
Part 2
Toki’s third and fourth proximal phalanxes were broken. He wouldn’t be able to play for at least six weeks, possibly longer if he didn’t take it easy and not use his hand at all. Unfortunately for him, it was his right hand. So he relied on his band mates to help him with simple tasks. Most of the time he asked Pickles or Nathan for help in buttoning his pants or grabbing and opening a beer for him, sometimes Murderface, but never Skwisgaar. The Swede pretended not to notice the snubbing from his Scandinavian counterpart, but it caused a vague sense of irritation somewhere in his brain.
Toki showed up in Pickle’s room late one night, unable to sleep, bored and sick of not being able to use his hand to so much as steady models to work on them with his left. As a result, he was in a foul mood and needed someone to be nice to him, at least for a little while, before the drummer passed out.
“Hey Tokiiiiii,” Pickles was already a little drunk when Toki found him, playing Angry Birds on his laptop.
“Hi Pickle.”
“What’s ‘a matter?”
“I can’ts do nothin’ wit this stupids dildo brokesen hand.”
“Well, why’d ya haveta go and breyk it fer?”
“I tolds Nathan, it was an axel-dent.”
“And nobahdy believes dat.”
“… I punches a wall.”
“Why?”
“… I don’ts want to talks about it.”
“Why’d ya bring up yer hand if ya don’t wanna talk about it?” When Toki didn’t answer right away, Pickles pressed further, “if ya don’t wanna tell me why ya hurt yer hand, ya might as well go back in yer room.”
“Okay! I tells you! Just don’ts make Toki go! I punches de wall because I was angries.”
“Yeah, I gaht dat much. Why, dough?”
“I ams reallies mad at Skwisgaar.”
“Aren’t ya usually? What’d he do this taim?” Toki blushed and looked down.
“Ugh. Toki, ya didn’t, ya know…? Guy’s a total man-slut and yer just gahnna get hert. Or get a disease.” Actually, both were nearly guaranteed.
“I toughts I coulds handles it. We didn’ts does nothin’, buts I wanted to, buts den Skwisgaar saids no, dat he didn’ts want me to think dat it woulds means somethings.”
While the idea of Skwisgaar and Toki fooling around repulsed Pickles, he found himself vaguely respecting the Swede for showing that much restraint.
“I just thoughts dat maybe…”
“What, Toki? You thaught if ya put out, he’d love ya?” Pickles didn’t mean it to sound so callous, but it was probably better to opt for brutal honesty. Toki didn’t need squishy half-truths right now.
“Puts out what? Like, de fire?” Okay, the point had been totally lost.
“Ya thaught if ya let ‘im, ya know, with ya that he’d suddenly love ya, didn’t ya?”
“… I guesses.”
“Ya can’t make someone else love ya, kid. It don’t werk dat way.”
“It hurtses so bad, Pickle,” Toki’s breath hitched and he pressed his forearm against his eyes. Pickles wrapped his arms around Toki’s middle, an instinctual reaction to people that he cared about when they were upset or sad. Only person he’d never hugged like this was Murderface and that was only because Murderface always smelled a horrific combination of bourbon, beef jerky and stale urine. That, and the bassist would probably go into a gay-panic coma.
“I know, Toki.” He didn’t know what to do beyond offer physical comfort. Pickles had never been very good at emotionally dealing with problems. Sometimes a hug and a few words of comfort were enough.
Toki hiccupped and turned into him. He petted the chestnut hair, resting his cheek on Toki’s forehead. The kid even smelled like sadness, whatever that smelled like. Suddenly, all his other senses were irrelevant, as his sense of touch was overloaded by the young Norwegian’s lips pressing into his. Hard. He didn’t react at first, his mind reeling. What the hell was Toki doing!? He backed away, removing his arms from the guitarist and smacked a hand over his lips, like they’d been hurt.
“Toki, whet th’ hell’re ya doin!?”
“I’s sorry, Pickle. I don’ts know what’s I’ms doing. I’s so… it hurts sos bad,” Toki made a clumsy attempt to regain contact with the drummer, but was gently, and firmly, rebuffed.
“Toki, I know it’s hard. But ya shouldn’t jest throw yerself at someone jest because yer lonely and sahd.”
“I’s sorry. I guesses it ams pretties stupid, rights? No one wants a stupids baby likes Toki,” the brunet began towards the door and Pickles grabbed his good wrist.
“Stahp talkin’ like dat about yerself! Toki, yer a smart, sweet, gahddamn good-lookin’ kid! If thet asshole Skwisgaar cahn’t see dat, he ain’t worth it!” Toki nodded faintly, but didn’t look at Pickles. He pulled his wrist from the drummer’s grasp and headed toward the door.
“I can’t does nothins right,” he whispered.
“That ain’t true, Toki!” Pickles stepped in front of him. “Ya ain’t leavin’ here feelin’ like a piece a’ sheet, a’reight? Why’da care if Skwisgaar wants ya? Ya can do sooooooo much better!”
“I don’t wants to does better, Pickle. I loves him.”
“Love? Yeesh.” Pickles realized now that it was going to be a looooooong night. “Why?”
“Why whats?”
“Why do you love… him, of all people?”
“We has a lots in common, we spends a wholly lot of time togethers, he ams pretties good looking, he ams de best guitars player in de world…” Toki would have been counting off on his fingers, based on his tone.
“Ya sher that all those ahr good enough reasons?”
Toki looked puzzled. “What else ams important?”
“I guess what I’m askin’… emotionally, ya know, why do ya wanna be wit’ him?”
“He ams… Skiwsgaar. I can’ts… Explaining its is hard… even when he ams mean to me, I ams just glad because den he ams at leasts talkings to me. Mine heart, it beats a krillion mile an hours whens we am together…” Pickles smiled his crooked smile and shook his head, dreadlocks swinging in front of his face.
“Ya gaht it bad, kid. I didn’t even know ya were ghey.”
“I don’ts t’ink I ams gay…”
“Well, Toki, have ya ever had… you know… with a ladiee?”
Toki shook his head. “Froms what Nathan and Moidaface has says, pussies am disguistings. I don’ts know that I wants to gets involved in thats. I like de kissings and huggings, but…” Toki shuddered when he thought about below the waist of his groupies.
“Ya ever liked another gai?”
“You promises not to laugh?”
“No. But ya gatta tell me anieeway,” Pickles smirked. If Toki wanted to stay, he had to do what Pickles wanted.
“For a longs time, I liked you, Pickle,” Toki blushed. The news didn’t exactly surprise the drummer.
“Rilly?” no point in completely humiliating Toki.
“Yeah, you’s was always nice to me. I likeds being withs you.”
“Yeah, but, thet’s friendship, Toki. Did ya ever, ya know… think I was… hat?”
Toki’s guilty look spoke volumes. Pickles chuckled.
“Pickle?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Cans you helps me?”
“Wit’ what?” Toki lowered his head, more in embarrassment than in indication of what he was talking about, but Pickles looked down anyway. The bulge in Toki’s pants was merely a small bump at the moment, but he was obviously distressed over it.
“Dood… ya can’t… ya know… can ya?”
Toki shook his head, tears threatening. The past few days had been very sexually frustrating. Without a tour going on, groupies weren’t in limitless supply for the random blow job or tittyfuck, and Toki had had to deal with several painful erections in that time. Rubbing against his mattress helped, but he couldn’t quite get himself off, and his other hand was worse than useless for the task. The rhythm guitarist in him should have been mortified by this.
“I dunno, Toki… this’s kinda gay… kinda rilly gay…”
“Please, Pickle? I can’ts ask no ones else.” Pickles sighed. It wasn’t like he’d never given a handjob before. The eighties had been a strange, strange time. He definitely wasn’t gay, but he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea. Screwing around was screwing around. And Toki was his pal. It wasn’t romantic or anything; he’d be helping a pal out.
“Okee. C’mere,” Pickles guided Toki to the bed with a hand on the small of his back and Toki allowed himself to be herded without indication that he was going to take any action on his own. He was asking Pickles a favor; he wouldn’t ruin it by not doing exactly what the drummer wanted.
It wasn’t nerves on Pickle’s part, but he hesitated momentarily before unbuttoning Toki’s pants and sliding them down to his knees. Toki’s half-erection poked free at the first opportunity and Toki screwed his eyes shut in embarrassment. He deeply regretted asking Pickles for this, now.
“Toki,” Pickles took a seat next to him. Toki forced himself to look at the drummer. “Relax.” Pickles looked so serious and so intense that Toki could only throw his upper body forward and crush his lips against the drummer’s. Pickles had been about to say ‘pretend it’s Skwisgaar if ya want,’ but before he could get that crucial bit out, Toki’s mouth was hungrily plundering his with a more skilled tongue than the Norwegian used to speak English. Again, Pickles didn’t feel incredibly uncomfortable, the eighties had been a strange, strange time, after all.
He took the younger man’s cock in hand and began to stroke it, gingerly, to complete hardness. Toki gasped and moaned, as he usually did during sex. When Pickles pulled away to further concentrate on just getting the kid off, Toki lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to forget where he was and who was jacking him off with such talented hands. Skwisgaar’s hands would be just as talented…
Pickles rhythmically pumped his fist, willing himself to not get aroused by the increasingly wanton twists and cries of the Norwegian splayed on his bed. The flush of color radiating upward from his chest was the killer.
“Nnnggg… Skwisg… Uhnnn…” Toki whimpered, eyes still closed. Pickles felt a small twinge of relief. At least the kid wasn’t getting turned on by him. This made it easier to keep his own arousal in check. Of course, a moaning, naked body squirming beneath his touch was still hot, regardless of the gender.
Pickles stroked faster and harder and Toki yelped in surprise. His moaning increased in volume, incrementally with each breath. Pickle’s wrist was getting tired in this position, so he straddled the brunet’s legs for a better angle. Toki was too preoccupied to notice, or if he did he said nothing in protest.
The encounter would have been completed and entirely forgotten, had Skwisgaar not been walking back from escorting a GMILF to the front door. The oldest ones deserved better treatment than dumping them off on the Kloakateers. He usually just kicked the young groupies out with a dismissive wave of his hand, but he liked to see the older ones off. He passed Pickle’s door and was nearly out of earshot when he heard Toki’s voice filtering through the door. There were no words attached to it, just sounds. Sounds Skwisgaar knew too well. It didn’t matter who the person was, sex sounds were sex sounds. Something akin to curiosity stirred and Skiwsgaar pressed an ear to the door. Toki’s chirpy, reedy voice was jumping the octaves as Pickles did whatever it was that Pickles was doing. Though, the drummer was oddly quiet. Maybe he just wasn’t very vocal during the act. Some people weren’t.
His thoughts didn’t linger for long on Pickles as he pictured Toki, lying back, pressed into the mattress as a nondescript figure fucked him. Hard. Toki bit his lip and groaned in a note that would have been more associate with Nathan. Skwisgaar smirked at the range of the rhythm guitarist. He wondered if Toki’s lack of control extended to tasks like blow jobs. Slobbering, with no rhythm, his thin lips wrapped around a cock, his nose nuzzling blond pubic hair… Skwisgaar shook his head. He didn’t want Toki sucking him off. But he couldn’t help the growing interest, making itself evident in his pants, and his wandering hand, well, hands. One rubbed against his crotch in a simultaneous attempt to adjust himself to a less painful position and to abate some of the impossible horniness that had suddenly overcome him. The other hand strayed to the doorknob. If he was careful, he could open the door a crack and see, exactly, what Pickles was doing that was causing Toki such pleasure.
Sure enough, the door wasn’t locked and Skwisgaar was able to open it a crack to peek inside. Toki’s fists were twisted in the blankets as Pickles straddled his lap and jerked him off, looking his usual smug self, but with a mixture of concentration. Toki was close by Skwisgaar’s estimation of his breath and the red blush on his face. The blond was something of an orgasm technician. Speaking of… his jeans were suddenly way, way too tight, and he didn’t want to wait until he was back in his room. Besides, porn was acted, this was real. And hot. Even though Pickles was fully clothed, Skwisgaar could see his excitement very visibly. He focused much more attention on his Scandinavian counterpart, however, since the young man was half stripped and was the one being stroked, after all. Skwisgaar silently unzipped his jeans and removed himself with a firm, purposeful hand. He watched and matched his stroking with Pickle’s, shifting his gaze to Toki’s face and arms, which were thrown carelessly to each side of his head.
Toki only lasted long enough to bring Skiwsgaar to the point right before orgasm, but not quite over the edge. As the brunet came with a cry, spunk splashing onto his stomach and his t-shirt, Skwisgaar silently swore. He quickly zipped himself back in and rushed for his room, lest Toki suddenly run to the door to leave and catch him, mid-masturbation. How humiliating would that be?
“Taak, Pickle,” Toki cleaned himself off as Pickles slid off to one side and grinned.
“No prahblem, kid. Hey, uh, can we naht tell de odders what happened?”
“I wasn’ts goings to,” did Pickles think Toki was retarded? Nathan was slightly homophobic, despite his knowledge of Pickle’s life previous to Dethklok, and Toki was damn sure Murderface would out both of them to the media out of sheer stupidity. This could stay their little secret. “Pickle?”
“Yeah, Toki?”
“Ifs I needs helps again…”
Pickles snorted. “Sher. But next time, ya gahtta help me out after, okee?” He shifted uncomfortably and Toki’s eyes strayed to his crotch.
“You wants me to takes care of dat nows?”
“Nah, you go ta bed.”
“Thanks agains, Pickle,” Toki left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
“Dumb dildo-licker.”
Toki probably wouldn’t ask Pickles for ‘help’ again. Pickle’s hands were magic, but he didn’t want to suck the drummer off (how else would he “return the favor,” with his hand broken?). At least he could go to sleep without worrying that his thoughts would stray to Skwisgaar…
Author: Kage no Yuushi
Word Count: 2,539
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: T/P, S/T, T/S <-- yes, they're different
Warning: Porn-with-some-plot (PWSP), voyeurism, handjobs
Summary: Toki needs some help. Skwisgaar needs to learn to mind his own business...
Part 1
Part 2
Toki’s third and fourth proximal phalanxes were broken. He wouldn’t be able to play for at least six weeks, possibly longer if he didn’t take it easy and not use his hand at all. Unfortunately for him, it was his right hand. So he relied on his band mates to help him with simple tasks. Most of the time he asked Pickles or Nathan for help in buttoning his pants or grabbing and opening a beer for him, sometimes Murderface, but never Skwisgaar. The Swede pretended not to notice the snubbing from his Scandinavian counterpart, but it caused a vague sense of irritation somewhere in his brain.
Toki showed up in Pickle’s room late one night, unable to sleep, bored and sick of not being able to use his hand to so much as steady models to work on them with his left. As a result, he was in a foul mood and needed someone to be nice to him, at least for a little while, before the drummer passed out.
“Hey Tokiiiiii,” Pickles was already a little drunk when Toki found him, playing Angry Birds on his laptop.
“Hi Pickle.”
“What’s ‘a matter?”
“I can’ts do nothin’ wit this stupids dildo brokesen hand.”
“Well, why’d ya haveta go and breyk it fer?”
“I tolds Nathan, it was an axel-dent.”
“And nobahdy believes dat.”
“… I punches a wall.”
“Why?”
“… I don’ts want to talks about it.”
“Why’d ya bring up yer hand if ya don’t wanna talk about it?” When Toki didn’t answer right away, Pickles pressed further, “if ya don’t wanna tell me why ya hurt yer hand, ya might as well go back in yer room.”
“Okay! I tells you! Just don’ts make Toki go! I punches de wall because I was angries.”
“Yeah, I gaht dat much. Why, dough?”
“I ams reallies mad at Skwisgaar.”
“Aren’t ya usually? What’d he do this taim?” Toki blushed and looked down.
“Ugh. Toki, ya didn’t, ya know…? Guy’s a total man-slut and yer just gahnna get hert. Or get a disease.” Actually, both were nearly guaranteed.
“I toughts I coulds handles it. We didn’ts does nothin’, buts I wanted to, buts den Skwisgaar saids no, dat he didn’ts want me to think dat it woulds means somethings.”
While the idea of Skwisgaar and Toki fooling around repulsed Pickles, he found himself vaguely respecting the Swede for showing that much restraint.
“I just thoughts dat maybe…”
“What, Toki? You thaught if ya put out, he’d love ya?” Pickles didn’t mean it to sound so callous, but it was probably better to opt for brutal honesty. Toki didn’t need squishy half-truths right now.
“Puts out what? Like, de fire?” Okay, the point had been totally lost.
“Ya thaught if ya let ‘im, ya know, with ya that he’d suddenly love ya, didn’t ya?”
“… I guesses.”
“Ya can’t make someone else love ya, kid. It don’t werk dat way.”
“It hurtses so bad, Pickle,” Toki’s breath hitched and he pressed his forearm against his eyes. Pickles wrapped his arms around Toki’s middle, an instinctual reaction to people that he cared about when they were upset or sad. Only person he’d never hugged like this was Murderface and that was only because Murderface always smelled a horrific combination of bourbon, beef jerky and stale urine. That, and the bassist would probably go into a gay-panic coma.
“I know, Toki.” He didn’t know what to do beyond offer physical comfort. Pickles had never been very good at emotionally dealing with problems. Sometimes a hug and a few words of comfort were enough.
Toki hiccupped and turned into him. He petted the chestnut hair, resting his cheek on Toki’s forehead. The kid even smelled like sadness, whatever that smelled like. Suddenly, all his other senses were irrelevant, as his sense of touch was overloaded by the young Norwegian’s lips pressing into his. Hard. He didn’t react at first, his mind reeling. What the hell was Toki doing!? He backed away, removing his arms from the guitarist and smacked a hand over his lips, like they’d been hurt.
“Toki, whet th’ hell’re ya doin!?”
“I’s sorry, Pickle. I don’ts know what’s I’ms doing. I’s so… it hurts sos bad,” Toki made a clumsy attempt to regain contact with the drummer, but was gently, and firmly, rebuffed.
“Toki, I know it’s hard. But ya shouldn’t jest throw yerself at someone jest because yer lonely and sahd.”
“I’s sorry. I guesses it ams pretties stupid, rights? No one wants a stupids baby likes Toki,” the brunet began towards the door and Pickles grabbed his good wrist.
“Stahp talkin’ like dat about yerself! Toki, yer a smart, sweet, gahddamn good-lookin’ kid! If thet asshole Skwisgaar cahn’t see dat, he ain’t worth it!” Toki nodded faintly, but didn’t look at Pickles. He pulled his wrist from the drummer’s grasp and headed toward the door.
“I can’t does nothins right,” he whispered.
“That ain’t true, Toki!” Pickles stepped in front of him. “Ya ain’t leavin’ here feelin’ like a piece a’ sheet, a’reight? Why’da care if Skwisgaar wants ya? Ya can do sooooooo much better!”
“I don’t wants to does better, Pickle. I loves him.”
“Love? Yeesh.” Pickles realized now that it was going to be a looooooong night. “Why?”
“Why whats?”
“Why do you love… him, of all people?”
“We has a lots in common, we spends a wholly lot of time togethers, he ams pretties good looking, he ams de best guitars player in de world…” Toki would have been counting off on his fingers, based on his tone.
“Ya sher that all those ahr good enough reasons?”
Toki looked puzzled. “What else ams important?”
“I guess what I’m askin’… emotionally, ya know, why do ya wanna be wit’ him?”
“He ams… Skiwsgaar. I can’ts… Explaining its is hard… even when he ams mean to me, I ams just glad because den he ams at leasts talkings to me. Mine heart, it beats a krillion mile an hours whens we am together…” Pickles smiled his crooked smile and shook his head, dreadlocks swinging in front of his face.
“Ya gaht it bad, kid. I didn’t even know ya were ghey.”
“I don’ts t’ink I ams gay…”
“Well, Toki, have ya ever had… you know… with a ladiee?”
Toki shook his head. “Froms what Nathan and Moidaface has says, pussies am disguistings. I don’ts know that I wants to gets involved in thats. I like de kissings and huggings, but…” Toki shuddered when he thought about below the waist of his groupies.
“Ya ever liked another gai?”
“You promises not to laugh?”
“No. But ya gatta tell me anieeway,” Pickles smirked. If Toki wanted to stay, he had to do what Pickles wanted.
“For a longs time, I liked you, Pickle,” Toki blushed. The news didn’t exactly surprise the drummer.
“Rilly?” no point in completely humiliating Toki.
“Yeah, you’s was always nice to me. I likeds being withs you.”
“Yeah, but, thet’s friendship, Toki. Did ya ever, ya know… think I was… hat?”
Toki’s guilty look spoke volumes. Pickles chuckled.
“Pickle?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Cans you helps me?”
“Wit’ what?” Toki lowered his head, more in embarrassment than in indication of what he was talking about, but Pickles looked down anyway. The bulge in Toki’s pants was merely a small bump at the moment, but he was obviously distressed over it.
“Dood… ya can’t… ya know… can ya?”
Toki shook his head, tears threatening. The past few days had been very sexually frustrating. Without a tour going on, groupies weren’t in limitless supply for the random blow job or tittyfuck, and Toki had had to deal with several painful erections in that time. Rubbing against his mattress helped, but he couldn’t quite get himself off, and his other hand was worse than useless for the task. The rhythm guitarist in him should have been mortified by this.
“I dunno, Toki… this’s kinda gay… kinda rilly gay…”
“Please, Pickle? I can’ts ask no ones else.” Pickles sighed. It wasn’t like he’d never given a handjob before. The eighties had been a strange, strange time. He definitely wasn’t gay, but he wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea. Screwing around was screwing around. And Toki was his pal. It wasn’t romantic or anything; he’d be helping a pal out.
“Okee. C’mere,” Pickles guided Toki to the bed with a hand on the small of his back and Toki allowed himself to be herded without indication that he was going to take any action on his own. He was asking Pickles a favor; he wouldn’t ruin it by not doing exactly what the drummer wanted.
It wasn’t nerves on Pickle’s part, but he hesitated momentarily before unbuttoning Toki’s pants and sliding them down to his knees. Toki’s half-erection poked free at the first opportunity and Toki screwed his eyes shut in embarrassment. He deeply regretted asking Pickles for this, now.
“Toki,” Pickles took a seat next to him. Toki forced himself to look at the drummer. “Relax.” Pickles looked so serious and so intense that Toki could only throw his upper body forward and crush his lips against the drummer’s. Pickles had been about to say ‘pretend it’s Skwisgaar if ya want,’ but before he could get that crucial bit out, Toki’s mouth was hungrily plundering his with a more skilled tongue than the Norwegian used to speak English. Again, Pickles didn’t feel incredibly uncomfortable, the eighties had been a strange, strange time, after all.
He took the younger man’s cock in hand and began to stroke it, gingerly, to complete hardness. Toki gasped and moaned, as he usually did during sex. When Pickles pulled away to further concentrate on just getting the kid off, Toki lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to forget where he was and who was jacking him off with such talented hands. Skwisgaar’s hands would be just as talented…
Pickles rhythmically pumped his fist, willing himself to not get aroused by the increasingly wanton twists and cries of the Norwegian splayed on his bed. The flush of color radiating upward from his chest was the killer.
“Nnnggg… Skwisg… Uhnnn…” Toki whimpered, eyes still closed. Pickles felt a small twinge of relief. At least the kid wasn’t getting turned on by him. This made it easier to keep his own arousal in check. Of course, a moaning, naked body squirming beneath his touch was still hot, regardless of the gender.
Pickles stroked faster and harder and Toki yelped in surprise. His moaning increased in volume, incrementally with each breath. Pickle’s wrist was getting tired in this position, so he straddled the brunet’s legs for a better angle. Toki was too preoccupied to notice, or if he did he said nothing in protest.
The encounter would have been completed and entirely forgotten, had Skwisgaar not been walking back from escorting a GMILF to the front door. The oldest ones deserved better treatment than dumping them off on the Kloakateers. He usually just kicked the young groupies out with a dismissive wave of his hand, but he liked to see the older ones off. He passed Pickle’s door and was nearly out of earshot when he heard Toki’s voice filtering through the door. There were no words attached to it, just sounds. Sounds Skwisgaar knew too well. It didn’t matter who the person was, sex sounds were sex sounds. Something akin to curiosity stirred and Skiwsgaar pressed an ear to the door. Toki’s chirpy, reedy voice was jumping the octaves as Pickles did whatever it was that Pickles was doing. Though, the drummer was oddly quiet. Maybe he just wasn’t very vocal during the act. Some people weren’t.
His thoughts didn’t linger for long on Pickles as he pictured Toki, lying back, pressed into the mattress as a nondescript figure fucked him. Hard. Toki bit his lip and groaned in a note that would have been more associate with Nathan. Skwisgaar smirked at the range of the rhythm guitarist. He wondered if Toki’s lack of control extended to tasks like blow jobs. Slobbering, with no rhythm, his thin lips wrapped around a cock, his nose nuzzling blond pubic hair… Skwisgaar shook his head. He didn’t want Toki sucking him off. But he couldn’t help the growing interest, making itself evident in his pants, and his wandering hand, well, hands. One rubbed against his crotch in a simultaneous attempt to adjust himself to a less painful position and to abate some of the impossible horniness that had suddenly overcome him. The other hand strayed to the doorknob. If he was careful, he could open the door a crack and see, exactly, what Pickles was doing that was causing Toki such pleasure.
Sure enough, the door wasn’t locked and Skwisgaar was able to open it a crack to peek inside. Toki’s fists were twisted in the blankets as Pickles straddled his lap and jerked him off, looking his usual smug self, but with a mixture of concentration. Toki was close by Skwisgaar’s estimation of his breath and the red blush on his face. The blond was something of an orgasm technician. Speaking of… his jeans were suddenly way, way too tight, and he didn’t want to wait until he was back in his room. Besides, porn was acted, this was real. And hot. Even though Pickles was fully clothed, Skwisgaar could see his excitement very visibly. He focused much more attention on his Scandinavian counterpart, however, since the young man was half stripped and was the one being stroked, after all. Skwisgaar silently unzipped his jeans and removed himself with a firm, purposeful hand. He watched and matched his stroking with Pickle’s, shifting his gaze to Toki’s face and arms, which were thrown carelessly to each side of his head.
Toki only lasted long enough to bring Skiwsgaar to the point right before orgasm, but not quite over the edge. As the brunet came with a cry, spunk splashing onto his stomach and his t-shirt, Skwisgaar silently swore. He quickly zipped himself back in and rushed for his room, lest Toki suddenly run to the door to leave and catch him, mid-masturbation. How humiliating would that be?
“Taak, Pickle,” Toki cleaned himself off as Pickles slid off to one side and grinned.
“No prahblem, kid. Hey, uh, can we naht tell de odders what happened?”
“I wasn’ts goings to,” did Pickles think Toki was retarded? Nathan was slightly homophobic, despite his knowledge of Pickle’s life previous to Dethklok, and Toki was damn sure Murderface would out both of them to the media out of sheer stupidity. This could stay their little secret. “Pickle?”
“Yeah, Toki?”
“Ifs I needs helps again…”
Pickles snorted. “Sher. But next time, ya gahtta help me out after, okee?” He shifted uncomfortably and Toki’s eyes strayed to his crotch.
“You wants me to takes care of dat nows?”
“Nah, you go ta bed.”
“Thanks agains, Pickle,” Toki left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
“Dumb dildo-licker.”
Toki probably wouldn’t ask Pickles for ‘help’ again. Pickle’s hands were magic, but he didn’t want to suck the drummer off (how else would he “return the favor,” with his hand broken?). At least he could go to sleep without worrying that his thoughts would stray to Skwisgaar…