FIC: I've Got You Under My Skin
Hey, guess who returned to the land of the living? :D Anyone still here, or is the Tumblr migration complete? (I still CANNOT wrap my brain around Tumblr.)
I've Got You Under My Skin
by Sushi
Charles/Skwisgaar; mentions of Charles/Murderface, implied Skwisgaar/Toki and Charles/Skwisgaar/Toki
NC-1701
4600 words
Warnings: HEAVY needleplay, D/s, kinky-as-fuck!Charles, BDSM in general, piercings galore.
Summary: Skwisgaar gets his nipples pierced.
Huge thanks to my dear seashadows for beta reading for me! :D Sorry for making you cringe!
These guys are so totally not mine, but oh dear god, if Charles were to turn up at my door, he wouldn't make it out for a while.
MODS, could we get a Charles/Skwisgaar tag, please? (WTF is it with me and rarepairs?)
Under Charles's lips, Skwisgaar's Adam's apple bobbed and strained as he gulped.
"You does it now, ja?"
Charles shook his head. Under his fingertips, he felt gooseflesh, hairless skin, and taut, slim muscle: pectoralis, deltoid, serratus anterior. He tightened his thighs around Skwisgaar's hips and, with his thumb, tested the underside of one nipple. Skwisgaar jerked halfway upright.
"Now, ja?" Hair shrouded his face, hiding his wild eyes like scrubby forest would hide a tiger. "You does it?"
Charles took Skwisgaar's wrists and eased him back once more onto the rug, then drew his hands down Skwisgaar's arms, his armpits, his sides and waist to stop on his hips, and silenced his outrage with a slow kiss. Their clothed cocks rubbed together, and Skwisgaar strained to reach between them, but Charles caught his hands and folded his arms like a corpse's and held them to Skwisgaar's chest with his own weight.
It had started as a way not to starve during college. A piercing apprenticeship led to showing his shop owner a few doodles in his Humanities I notebook. That led to tattooing oranges and bananas he stole from the dining hall (and eating them when he was finished), and eventually becoming a respected shop artist, with not a goddamn piece of work visible anywhere above his armpits or below his ass. He had a future to think of, after all. Not that his parents agreed, but he was the one with the scholarship, and if they had a problem, they could take it up with his balls.
The shop worked in his favor, fortunately. When he was close to finishing his JD, and PhD in Econ, some guy from a washed-up band he used to kinda like came in to get a dydoe to celebrate hooking up with some new guys. He threw in a couple of tickets to a show at some metal club Charles had heard about from one of the other guys at the shop. He decided what the hell and invited his ex-girlfriend so he could maybe hook her up with someone there and finally get her off his back. He ended up ditching her and taking the bassist home. Gave the guy a few touches of ink to show him just how damn hot it could be, then kept in touch with the band long enough to realize how much promise they really had. Bring it all up to now, and Skwisgaar wanted his nipples pierced. Oh, boy.
He rested his forehead against Skwisgaar's, their noses together, his hands closed around Skwisgaar's wrists, heat and sweat building between them, swirling up with every tiny shift Skwisgaar made or Charles countered. The room's heavy, warm air, maybe a little too warm from all the lamps he'd adjusted to give just the right amount of light, closed over him.
"Don't move," he said as though Skwisgaar were a wild animal in danger of spooking.
"Nej." Skwisgaar kissed Charles. Charles returned it, fighting back an urge to grin. It liked a little fight in the game. Like Murderface. He'd been the devil himself, getting tattooed, and drew the process out over years just to test Charles (and get as much dick as possible). Charles even promised he'd get the Planet Piss logo when the first album hit stores, but, eh, what could you do?
Charles sat up. He was already barefoot, and knew better than to do this stuff in anything but jeans and a T-shirt. Sometimes, though, you had to get down to basics. He drew his shirt over his head and stretched, enjoying the cool seduction of air on his skin. A gentle current ran under his arms and over his chest. Another teased the trickle of sweat running down his spine. As tempting as it was to take off his jeans, too, he didn't want to unnerve Skwisgaar. After all, he was a master piercer, and like most men, he enjoyed playing with himself from time to time---
He looked down when he felt Skwisgaar touching his stomach. "Ah. Sorry. I, uh, probably should have warned you."
"What ams dis?" Skwisgaar stared at Charles's tattoo. Well, one of two, but the other was the company logo and really didn't count. (He even wrote it off on his taxes.)
"It's a, uh, wyrm. A legless dragon. The wings are on my back."
Skwisgaar scowled at the tattoo, which Charles had designed. It was a European wyrm, of course, but he'd been taking his final Japanese class that semester and it was meant to look like an obi in commemoration, its half-folded wings more or less copied from a picture of a geisha at some celebration he'd seen. The wyrm wrapped around his body a total of three times, one for every year he'd spent behind bars.
"Why ams it bites its owns tail?" Skwisgaar traced the tail, wrapped around the wyrm's head and neck and through its mouth. "Dat ams dumb. Likes Toki."
Charles smirked. He'd been very proud of that detail, especially the blood dripping from the wyrm's jaws and down its body. "I, uh, did that to remind me that no matter how badly I fuck up, I can pick myself up and try again."
After all, not many kids who spent junior high and ninth grade in juvie for boosting cars managed full scholarships. Even fewer ended up virtual world powers. He was certain he was the only one who would ever get to lay out any member of Dethklok and, with full consent, poke him full of holes.
So far, he was at four, including some leg bands for Magnus. Well, three and counting. After tonight, he just needed to talk Nathan into a Prince Albert, and Toki into a tongue piercing. Or possibly a tattoo reading, "If found, please call C. Ofdensen at 666-666-6666." It would certainly save on reconnaissance every time he ran off with Rockso.
Skwisgaar ran his hands further up Charles's chest and to his nipples. Charles closed his eyes as Skwisgaar teased them until they ached and rose up too fast around their tiny barbells.
"You gots de pierces, too?"
"Hmm. Thicker than yours."
"Ja, I wants de tinies ones dat de ladies t'inks ams cute."
Skwisgaar rubbed Charles's aching nipples between fingers and thumbs, and Charles moaned. Metal made everything better. Amazing how reluctant most of the boys were to believe him. He drew his palms up and down the backs of Skwisgaar's sleek, strong forearms. God, it was a nice change from the odd Klokateer that found out about him and slunk into his office come end of shift, practically pissing his or her panties and stammering something about a lip ring.
Part of him registered Skwisgaar sitting up--he put his arms around Skwisgaar's back, anyway--and he gasped at a gentle bite to his collarbone. Skwisgaar's lips touched his earlobe. "Ams you wants me to fucks you before you gives to me de needle fucks?"
The bastard purred more than spoke, like some ridiculous shapeshifting beast. Charles ran his nails up and down his back so he could hear the purr again.
"Mmm. Dat ams a yes, I t'inks." Skwisgaar let go of Charles's left nipple and set to work on his fly one-handed. "Helloes, dere," he said, groping through the denim until Charles could hardly catch his breath. "You gots de more pierces. Ams you ribs for mine pleasuresk?"
"Stop." Charles gripped Skwisgaar's chin in one hand and gazed into his sharp eyes. "I'm getting my needles in you first. You're the one who wanted it this way, remember?"
Returning Charles's gaze, Skwisgaar turned his head enough to get Charles's index finger in his mouth and suck. No teeth. His lips soft and snug and wet. Plenty of tongue. Dear god, were Charles's jeans becoming a hindrance to his work.
"Lie down." He cleared his throat to try to get rid of the tremor in his voice. "I said, lie down."
Skwisgaar smiled around Charles's finger and wrapped his tongue around it, then guided Charles's hand to a warm spot on his jeans. Jesus fuck, it was wet. Charles swallowed and gathered his strength to push Skwisgaar, fucking sex god, back against the floor without taking advantage of the fact that one could not rape the willing.
"Ams you fucks me now?" Skwisgaar said, an impossible smirk on his lips.
"Yeah." Charles fumbled for and managed to grab a capped needle from his piercing kit. "With a couple of these."
Skwisgaar moaned deep in his chest and tipped his head back, baring his throat in submission. Charles gritted his teeth to keep from biting it--or sticking a needle through it. Skwisgaar would look fucking hot with a Madison right at the base of his throat, maybe even a whole column of barbells all the way to mid-sternum. He shivered deep into his balls at the thought of pushing so many needles through Skwisgaar's willing flesh, at the resistance of his skin, of giving him, over and over, the instruction to hold his breath, then exhale, long and hard, as yet another piece of steel broke him. Not many people let him think of piercing this way, but the ones who did, oh, my, did he enjoy them.
"You still just want the two?" His voice hurt his throat, low and coarse and thick with testosterone. With the sterile needle's cap, he poked Skwisgaar in the throat and scraped him to the middle of the chest. "Because this would look nice." Then he did the same from Skwisgaar's navel to the low-slung waist of his jeans. "So would this."
"Ja, I amns't de robots." With a cheeky grin, Skwisgaar sat up far enough to bite Charles's jaw, then settled back with his arms folded behind his head. "How manies you gots downs dere?"
"A few."
"How many ams dat?"
"Enough that I've never gotten any complaints."
Skwisgaar started to say something. Charles slid three fingers into his mouth. Skwisgaar took his wrist and sucked them long and hard enough for Charles to go hot from his face to his stomach. He pulled his hand free, rapped Skwisgaar on the nose like a bad dog, and set to rubbing sanitizer gel all over his hands. He tweaked Skwisgaar's nipples while his fingers were still wet with the horrible stuff, and to his surprise, Skwisgaar lay back with his arms bent at his sides. With his hair spread underneath him, he looked like a fallen angel that hadn't even tried to stop himself. Charles made a note of it for future marketing purposes.
"Last chance." Charles set out his piercing kit, and the sterile 20-gauge captive-spring silver rings he'd found for Skwisgaar. They were unusual, and as close to pure white as metal could get without adulteration. "You can, ah, still back out. No one'll be the wiser."
"Hmm." Skwisgaar turned his head and blinked.
Charles hesitated. He nudged his kit aside with his wrist and put one hand in the middle of Skwisgaar's chest, only to feel his heart pounding like it wanted out. With a soft sigh, Charles leaned forward and rested his forehead on Skwisgaar's temple.
"If you need to stop after the first one, say so. Okay?"
"Mm. Ja."
"Look at me and say it."
Skwisgaar turned his head, and Charles found himself with a blurred vista of colorless eyelashes and icy eyes. Skwisgaar scratched his cheek and got part of Charles's in the process.
"Okay?" Charles said.
"Ja. Okays." Still, he gulped. "Yous be gentle. Ams mine forst times."
Charles sat up, a little confused at hearing those words in that order from Skwisgaar. "I have no idea if you're, ah, joking or not. I, uh, know you complained for a week after your flu shot in August."
"Toki was pokes me! I tells you dat!" Skwisgaar cupped his chin and popped his neck. "Looks, you goings to does dis, or ams we just fucks?"
Charles rolled his eyes, pecked Skwisgaar, and sanitized his hands again. "Do exactly what I say."
"Ja, whatevers." Skwisgaar looked around Charles's sitting room. "You gots de boringks taste."
"Skwisgaar?"
"I does what you says, I gets it, cans you just does dis?"
If he was going to be that way, fine. Charles made a show of putting on his rubber gloves, making sure to snap them at the wrists. Skwisgaar flinched, which told Charles everything he needed to know.
"Shh." He squeezed Skwisgaar's hips with his thighs. "It's just a pinch. How 'bout I, uh, give you a blowjob when I'm finished? And I fuck you if you can take both?"
"You was goings to does dat anysway, Misters Ribs-For-Mine-Pleasuresk."
Skwisgaar cracked enough of a grin to make Charles comfortable with setting up the rest of his piercing kit. Fucking virgins. Half the time, they jumped him, and the other half, they went crying for their mommies. This was a bad idea, and he should have known better.
But, goddamn, Skwisgaar wasn't called a sex god for nothing, and Charles wasn't a machine. He looked Skwisgaar up and down as he tore open an iodine pad. His long, flat muscles stood out around his ribcage as he breathed, leaving shadows on his pallid skin. He had the perfect skin for tattooing, clear and only a couple of shades darker than Charles's, without any fucking body hair to get in the way. But, damn, even what little hair Skwisgaar had, the faint yellow tufts under his arms and the near-colorless trail leading down from his navel, went straight to Charles's imagination and made him wonder: did the bastard curse or moan when someone yanked it hard enough?
"Keep breathing." Charles gave Skwisgaar's right nipple a twist with the iodine pad. Skwisgaar gasped and arched his chest. Charles bit his lip--it was that or voice his approval one way or another, and the last thing he needed was to get Skwisgaar worked up and worried again. He traded his iodine pad for a needle and cork, and for an instant pictured Skwisgaar blindfolded. He gasped at a rush of blood to his erection.
"Whats?" Skwisgaar lifted his head, his eyes wide with worry and anticipation.
"Nothing."
"Ams dis makes you dats hornies? Punch de holes fulls of people?"
"Yes. Yes, it does."
"I's. . . likes de hole what ams alreadies dere."
Charles adjusted his grip on the needle. "Then that's the difference between us. Take a deep breath."
Skwisgaar did as he was told. "Good boy," Charles said, and was a little surprised to feel Skwisgaar's cock jerk against him.
A thrill of need shot through his spine and made him grit his teeth as he readied the needle beside Skwisgaar's nipple, hard and ready, and dark with iodine. If not for his sterile gloves, Charles would have let his prick out and given it an encouraging stroke or two. He touched the very tip of the needle to Skwisgaar's skin and shivered.
"Let it out slowly."
Skwisgaar's nipple gave way, the thin buttery layer of his skin and the gentle crunch of tissue beneath, between needle and cork, in a split second of cruelty. But Charles's low moan drowned beneath Skwisgaar's overwhelmed cry. Skwisgaar sat up and caught Charles with both arms, the needle still in his flesh, frenzied and panting, and kissed him until Charles had to put both arms in the air for the sake of his gloves.
"You fucks me," Skwisgaar said against Charles's tongue. "Rights now. You sticks de neddles in whiles you gots de dicks in me."
"God, yes," Charles said before he could stop himself. He shook his head. "No. No. No!" For needle play, god, yes. A thousand times, yes. But for a piercing that was going to stay? He'd learned that lesson the hard way. "Lie down."
Skwisgaar grazed his teeth over Charles's cheek. Charles closed his eyes at the sound of his day's stubble rasping against Skwisgaar's teeth, and his cock twitched. He gasped when Skwisgaar unbuttoned his jeans all the way and stroked him from balls to Prince Albert.
"You fucks me wit's all dis. You makes me come." Skwisgaar's lips brushed Charles's ear, smooth and warm, and he teased the two columns of barbells running alongside the vein underneath in a herringbone pattern, all the way to the crown Charles had given himself all around his cock's head. It had taken years to get it just right, but for this, for Skwisgaar's approval, it was worth it, and if this kept up, Charles was going to have the night of his---
"Lie. Down." Charles looked him in the eye. This was no time to go soft in the spine. He hadn't even got the needle out, and there was another one to go. Given Skwisgaar's reaction to the first one, it was bound to be a show.
Skwisgaar blinked. His mirth wilted, and he lay back on the floor, once more with his arms bent to the sides. Charles smirked. But it wouldn't do for the piercer to be the only one with his dick hanging out.
"Open your pants. Touch yourself."
"Ja." Looking Charles in the eye like a new Klokateer, Skwisgaar unzipped his jeans.
Charles looked down, pinching one end of the needle in Skwisgaar's nipple. He drew it back and forth to keep it from clotting in place, and Skwisgaar moaned and squeezed his cock so the uncut head darkened another shade of pink. Charles itched to give him a foreskin piercing, but held back. No reason to scare him.
"Keep doing that," he said as he returned to his piercing work. The smell in the room, no longer simple sweat and pheromones and a little bit of ozone, made him lightheaded, but he had worked under worse conditions. Backstage, during orgies, in crackhouses. He picked up the first lubricated ring and got it and its captive spring in place in Skwisgaar's nipple as quickly as he could, wiped off the iodine, and admired his work a moment. It suited Skwisgaar--and once the redness and swelling went down, it would suit him even more.
While Skwisgaar was distracted with playing with himself, Charles hurried through his second prep. The slow jerking beneath him and the throbbing of his heart pushed him a little further toward the edge of unreliability with each jolt. He bit his lip and glanced at Skwisgaar's face.
Skwisgaar's eyes were closed, his cheeks red, his nostrils flaring with every breath. Charles opened his mouth to tell him to take a deep breath and hold it. Skwisgaar licked his lips and left them parted. Panting. Moaning in Swedish like a practiced whore.
Charles doubled checked his angle and thrust the needle through Skwisgaar's flesh.
Skwisgaar arched up with a throaty cry. A drop of semen landed on the iodine-smeared patch around his left nipple, and more covered his stomach and the underside of Charles's cock. Charles stared, lost in the experience, until it was over. Only when Skwisgaar went limp did he remember his manners and kiss him.
"Uh, wow."
"Mm. Ja. You does dat again?"
". . . I'll put your ring in."
Skwisgaar smiled, and Charles hurried to finish up what he had been doing. His hands shook with adrenaline, though, and he dropped the spring on Skwisgaar's chest a couple of times. Finally, it popped into place, and he tightened his knees around Skwisgaar's hips as he pulled off his gloves, blood pounding in his ears so he could barely hear another thing. His cock ached to be slammed into Skwisgaar's mouth or ass, and part of him didn't really mind if Skwisgaar agreed to it or not. Charles squeezed his eyes shut and closed his fists, trying to pull himself together. The sea of endorphins and lust swamping his brain left him flailing to assemble a reasonable plan to get the fuck off---
Skwisgaar kept moving. And distracting him. He looked down, ready to shout the moron into submission, and found him with his jeans halfway off his hips.
"You fucks me," Skwisgaar said, and grinned. "I wants to feels all dats metals. Gots to feels pretty goods, ja?"
And Charles was back in college, on his back, struggling to get his jeans off as fast as he could before the incubus before him vanished in a puff of smoke.
Skwisgaar's jeans landed on his chest, and he tossed them, then his own wadded ones, aside, and hurried to his knees to crouch over Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar, in turn, ran a finger down Charles's chest and to his navel.
"Why you nots gots dis pierce?" he said, rummaging inside like he might find a treasure in lint.
"Because I'm not a teenage girl. Please stop that."
Skwisgaar did. Charles touched the swollen tip of one of his nipples, and Skwisgaar gasped in pain--not all of it good. Charles kissed it instead, thinking ahead to a time when he could suck and bite and tease it in all kinds of ways. Maybe even stretch the hole and see if he could make Skwisgaar come from the shock.
Skwisgaar took his wrist and slapped his tube of surgical lubricant into his hand. "Ams we doeses dis, or does I gots to go fucks Toki?"
Charles lifted an eyebrow. "You and Toki---"
"Noes, but it amns't stops him froms tryingsk." Skwisgaar nudged Charles in the ass with his heels. "Gets in dere and shows me de good times!"
If Charles had proven himself capable of anything in life, it was getting laid. He squeezed probably a little too much lube in his hand and, since it was Skwisgaar, went up on his knees to make a nice show of stroking himself. The chilly goo warmed within seconds of touching his palm, never mind his cock and its nice, warm collection of metal parts. He moaned when his barbells shifted--and again at the thought of what they would do once he got inside Skwisgaar.
"H-how much do you need?" he said as he worked his Prince Albert ring back and forth.
"Eh." Skwisgaar shrugged. The bastard was getting hard again already. Charles stroked him a couple of times for the hell of it---
"Hej! I nots de maskines!" Skwisgaar still lifted his hips and spread his legs wider. Charles took it as invitation for a nice smudge of lube and a finger inside, which earned him a long moan.
"Jaaaa, you fucks me now." Skwisgaar closed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head. Charles found his prostate and tickled it.
"Does dat wit's you dick. Den I screams."
"Douche." Charles gave him another tickle, and grinned at the desperate whimper he earned. He pulled his finger out (and grabbed a handful of sanitizer, things he fucking learned from a rimjob gone bad) and leaned over Skwisgaar. "Ready?"
Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. Charles figured it was a yes.
"Holy shits!" Skwisgaar said as soon as Charles got the top half of his crown of dydoes in. "SHITS!" he added when the second half followed and the herringbone barbells began. It enhanced things nicely for Charles, knowing his work was appreciated, and he leaned forward on his hands to enjoy himself before he had to get to work. Skwisgaar squirmed like a pinned lizard until Charles finally, finally, got the last barbell in and gazed down at him, balls-deep, while Skwisgaar panted open-mouthed like he had just sprinted from one end of Mordhaus to the other.
"Is this gonna be too much for you?" Charles said. "It's okay. You wouldn't be the first to cut your losses."
"Fucks dat!" Skwisgaar thrust his hips, eyes wild and teeth bared. "Gives it to me alls you got! You don'ts got de nough to be's too much fors me!"
Charles chuckled. Skwisgaar was, to put it bluntly, his bitch. He could probably pull out and get any filthy act he wanted as long as he promised to put it in again. But, well, he wanted to get off, too. So he took mercy and gave Skwisgaar a few slow, teasing thrusts--and, apparently, one across his prostate, with the Prince Albert bead by the feel of things, because he threw his head back and gave a choked cry that jolted Charles's balls like electricity. (Come to think, Skwisgaar might be into the violet wand. He might have to talk him into another session soon.)
Skwisgaar wrapped his legs around Charles's hips and drew him closer with both hands. "I tells you a secrets."
Charles smirked. "What?"
"Ams you gets me off ins de next two minutesk, I mights not haves to calls Toki ins to does it fors you."
Charles gave him the finger and drove his cock into the bastard as hard and deep as he could. Skwisgaar's choking noise and low, "Oh, jaaa," were enough to get him to do it again, and again, until he was biting his lip and flaring his nostrils and digging his fingers into the rug while Skwisgaar thrust back just as hard, shouting in Swedish and fuck-knew-what-else. Charles watched his eyes, waiting for them to lose focus. Once Skwisgaar was done for, he could let go and come like he hadn't in years. Motherfucking years.
"You comes forst." Skwisgaar panted, and wracked with a shout as Charles grazed his prostate again. "You comes forst!"
Fuck you, blondie, Charles longed to say, but the moment he quit biting his lip, he'd be done. A change in pace, in position, even a hand to his chest might set him off. All he could do was hope Skwisgaar was occupied with what they were doing---
It hadn't even occurred to him that Skwisgaar might have a taste for sweat before he licked a trickle of it from the side of Charles's neck.
"FUCK YOU!" The words burst from Charles's mouth as he came, and Skwisgaar moaned like the damned in his ear, riding him from below and soaking both of their abdomens. Charles shuddered, and shuddered again, and only stopped when he'd gone half-blind, crammed to the hilt inside the filthiest goddamn lay he'd had since. . . damned if he could remember.
He pulled out, getting his breath, and flopped on the floor next to Skwisgaar, who smiled at the ceiling, both hands behind his head.
"Dat was pretty goods, ja?"
"I think you tried to kill me." Charles smacked him in the stomach. "Have some respect for your elders."
Skwisgaar sighed. He sounded entirely too happy for someone who'd just had what should have been the best sex of his life. Charles leaned up on his elbow and inspected Skwisgaar's new piercings. They were a little swollen, no great surprise, but looked pretty good despite a touch of bleeding. He reached across for some sterile cotton, and paused when Skwisgaar caught his hand and kissed his knuckles.
"Ams you maybe wants to does de navels pierces somestime?" He smirked, and brushed his lips across the hairs on the backs of Charles's fingers. "Maybes, next weeks? I gets Toki to comes too, ams you wants."
Charles blinked. Then he grinned.
Oh, it was going to be a terribly long week indeed.
I've Got You Under My Skin
by Sushi
Charles/Skwisgaar; mentions of Charles/Murderface, implied Skwisgaar/Toki and Charles/Skwisgaar/Toki
NC-1701
4600 words
Warnings: HEAVY needleplay, D/s, kinky-as-fuck!Charles, BDSM in general, piercings galore.
Summary: Skwisgaar gets his nipples pierced.
Huge thanks to my dear seashadows for beta reading for me! :D Sorry for making you cringe!
These guys are so totally not mine, but oh dear god, if Charles were to turn up at my door, he wouldn't make it out for a while.
MODS, could we get a Charles/Skwisgaar tag, please? (WTF is it with me and rarepairs?)
Under Charles's lips, Skwisgaar's Adam's apple bobbed and strained as he gulped.
"You does it now, ja?"
Charles shook his head. Under his fingertips, he felt gooseflesh, hairless skin, and taut, slim muscle: pectoralis, deltoid, serratus anterior. He tightened his thighs around Skwisgaar's hips and, with his thumb, tested the underside of one nipple. Skwisgaar jerked halfway upright.
"Now, ja?" Hair shrouded his face, hiding his wild eyes like scrubby forest would hide a tiger. "You does it?"
Charles took Skwisgaar's wrists and eased him back once more onto the rug, then drew his hands down Skwisgaar's arms, his armpits, his sides and waist to stop on his hips, and silenced his outrage with a slow kiss. Their clothed cocks rubbed together, and Skwisgaar strained to reach between them, but Charles caught his hands and folded his arms like a corpse's and held them to Skwisgaar's chest with his own weight.
It had started as a way not to starve during college. A piercing apprenticeship led to showing his shop owner a few doodles in his Humanities I notebook. That led to tattooing oranges and bananas he stole from the dining hall (and eating them when he was finished), and eventually becoming a respected shop artist, with not a goddamn piece of work visible anywhere above his armpits or below his ass. He had a future to think of, after all. Not that his parents agreed, but he was the one with the scholarship, and if they had a problem, they could take it up with his balls.
The shop worked in his favor, fortunately. When he was close to finishing his JD, and PhD in Econ, some guy from a washed-up band he used to kinda like came in to get a dydoe to celebrate hooking up with some new guys. He threw in a couple of tickets to a show at some metal club Charles had heard about from one of the other guys at the shop. He decided what the hell and invited his ex-girlfriend so he could maybe hook her up with someone there and finally get her off his back. He ended up ditching her and taking the bassist home. Gave the guy a few touches of ink to show him just how damn hot it could be, then kept in touch with the band long enough to realize how much promise they really had. Bring it all up to now, and Skwisgaar wanted his nipples pierced. Oh, boy.
He rested his forehead against Skwisgaar's, their noses together, his hands closed around Skwisgaar's wrists, heat and sweat building between them, swirling up with every tiny shift Skwisgaar made or Charles countered. The room's heavy, warm air, maybe a little too warm from all the lamps he'd adjusted to give just the right amount of light, closed over him.
"Don't move," he said as though Skwisgaar were a wild animal in danger of spooking.
"Nej." Skwisgaar kissed Charles. Charles returned it, fighting back an urge to grin. It liked a little fight in the game. Like Murderface. He'd been the devil himself, getting tattooed, and drew the process out over years just to test Charles (and get as much dick as possible). Charles even promised he'd get the Planet Piss logo when the first album hit stores, but, eh, what could you do?
Charles sat up. He was already barefoot, and knew better than to do this stuff in anything but jeans and a T-shirt. Sometimes, though, you had to get down to basics. He drew his shirt over his head and stretched, enjoying the cool seduction of air on his skin. A gentle current ran under his arms and over his chest. Another teased the trickle of sweat running down his spine. As tempting as it was to take off his jeans, too, he didn't want to unnerve Skwisgaar. After all, he was a master piercer, and like most men, he enjoyed playing with himself from time to time---
He looked down when he felt Skwisgaar touching his stomach. "Ah. Sorry. I, uh, probably should have warned you."
"What ams dis?" Skwisgaar stared at Charles's tattoo. Well, one of two, but the other was the company logo and really didn't count. (He even wrote it off on his taxes.)
"It's a, uh, wyrm. A legless dragon. The wings are on my back."
Skwisgaar scowled at the tattoo, which Charles had designed. It was a European wyrm, of course, but he'd been taking his final Japanese class that semester and it was meant to look like an obi in commemoration, its half-folded wings more or less copied from a picture of a geisha at some celebration he'd seen. The wyrm wrapped around his body a total of three times, one for every year he'd spent behind bars.
"Why ams it bites its owns tail?" Skwisgaar traced the tail, wrapped around the wyrm's head and neck and through its mouth. "Dat ams dumb. Likes Toki."
Charles smirked. He'd been very proud of that detail, especially the blood dripping from the wyrm's jaws and down its body. "I, uh, did that to remind me that no matter how badly I fuck up, I can pick myself up and try again."
After all, not many kids who spent junior high and ninth grade in juvie for boosting cars managed full scholarships. Even fewer ended up virtual world powers. He was certain he was the only one who would ever get to lay out any member of Dethklok and, with full consent, poke him full of holes.
So far, he was at four, including some leg bands for Magnus. Well, three and counting. After tonight, he just needed to talk Nathan into a Prince Albert, and Toki into a tongue piercing. Or possibly a tattoo reading, "If found, please call C. Ofdensen at 666-666-6666." It would certainly save on reconnaissance every time he ran off with Rockso.
Skwisgaar ran his hands further up Charles's chest and to his nipples. Charles closed his eyes as Skwisgaar teased them until they ached and rose up too fast around their tiny barbells.
"You gots de pierces, too?"
"Hmm. Thicker than yours."
"Ja, I wants de tinies ones dat de ladies t'inks ams cute."
Skwisgaar rubbed Charles's aching nipples between fingers and thumbs, and Charles moaned. Metal made everything better. Amazing how reluctant most of the boys were to believe him. He drew his palms up and down the backs of Skwisgaar's sleek, strong forearms. God, it was a nice change from the odd Klokateer that found out about him and slunk into his office come end of shift, practically pissing his or her panties and stammering something about a lip ring.
Part of him registered Skwisgaar sitting up--he put his arms around Skwisgaar's back, anyway--and he gasped at a gentle bite to his collarbone. Skwisgaar's lips touched his earlobe. "Ams you wants me to fucks you before you gives to me de needle fucks?"
The bastard purred more than spoke, like some ridiculous shapeshifting beast. Charles ran his nails up and down his back so he could hear the purr again.
"Mmm. Dat ams a yes, I t'inks." Skwisgaar let go of Charles's left nipple and set to work on his fly one-handed. "Helloes, dere," he said, groping through the denim until Charles could hardly catch his breath. "You gots de more pierces. Ams you ribs for mine pleasuresk?"
"Stop." Charles gripped Skwisgaar's chin in one hand and gazed into his sharp eyes. "I'm getting my needles in you first. You're the one who wanted it this way, remember?"
Returning Charles's gaze, Skwisgaar turned his head enough to get Charles's index finger in his mouth and suck. No teeth. His lips soft and snug and wet. Plenty of tongue. Dear god, were Charles's jeans becoming a hindrance to his work.
"Lie down." He cleared his throat to try to get rid of the tremor in his voice. "I said, lie down."
Skwisgaar smiled around Charles's finger and wrapped his tongue around it, then guided Charles's hand to a warm spot on his jeans. Jesus fuck, it was wet. Charles swallowed and gathered his strength to push Skwisgaar, fucking sex god, back against the floor without taking advantage of the fact that one could not rape the willing.
"Ams you fucks me now?" Skwisgaar said, an impossible smirk on his lips.
"Yeah." Charles fumbled for and managed to grab a capped needle from his piercing kit. "With a couple of these."
Skwisgaar moaned deep in his chest and tipped his head back, baring his throat in submission. Charles gritted his teeth to keep from biting it--or sticking a needle through it. Skwisgaar would look fucking hot with a Madison right at the base of his throat, maybe even a whole column of barbells all the way to mid-sternum. He shivered deep into his balls at the thought of pushing so many needles through Skwisgaar's willing flesh, at the resistance of his skin, of giving him, over and over, the instruction to hold his breath, then exhale, long and hard, as yet another piece of steel broke him. Not many people let him think of piercing this way, but the ones who did, oh, my, did he enjoy them.
"You still just want the two?" His voice hurt his throat, low and coarse and thick with testosterone. With the sterile needle's cap, he poked Skwisgaar in the throat and scraped him to the middle of the chest. "Because this would look nice." Then he did the same from Skwisgaar's navel to the low-slung waist of his jeans. "So would this."
"Ja, I amns't de robots." With a cheeky grin, Skwisgaar sat up far enough to bite Charles's jaw, then settled back with his arms folded behind his head. "How manies you gots downs dere?"
"A few."
"How many ams dat?"
"Enough that I've never gotten any complaints."
Skwisgaar started to say something. Charles slid three fingers into his mouth. Skwisgaar took his wrist and sucked them long and hard enough for Charles to go hot from his face to his stomach. He pulled his hand free, rapped Skwisgaar on the nose like a bad dog, and set to rubbing sanitizer gel all over his hands. He tweaked Skwisgaar's nipples while his fingers were still wet with the horrible stuff, and to his surprise, Skwisgaar lay back with his arms bent at his sides. With his hair spread underneath him, he looked like a fallen angel that hadn't even tried to stop himself. Charles made a note of it for future marketing purposes.
"Last chance." Charles set out his piercing kit, and the sterile 20-gauge captive-spring silver rings he'd found for Skwisgaar. They were unusual, and as close to pure white as metal could get without adulteration. "You can, ah, still back out. No one'll be the wiser."
"Hmm." Skwisgaar turned his head and blinked.
Charles hesitated. He nudged his kit aside with his wrist and put one hand in the middle of Skwisgaar's chest, only to feel his heart pounding like it wanted out. With a soft sigh, Charles leaned forward and rested his forehead on Skwisgaar's temple.
"If you need to stop after the first one, say so. Okay?"
"Mm. Ja."
"Look at me and say it."
Skwisgaar turned his head, and Charles found himself with a blurred vista of colorless eyelashes and icy eyes. Skwisgaar scratched his cheek and got part of Charles's in the process.
"Okay?" Charles said.
"Ja. Okays." Still, he gulped. "Yous be gentle. Ams mine forst times."
Charles sat up, a little confused at hearing those words in that order from Skwisgaar. "I have no idea if you're, ah, joking or not. I, uh, know you complained for a week after your flu shot in August."
"Toki was pokes me! I tells you dat!" Skwisgaar cupped his chin and popped his neck. "Looks, you goings to does dis, or ams we just fucks?"
Charles rolled his eyes, pecked Skwisgaar, and sanitized his hands again. "Do exactly what I say."
"Ja, whatevers." Skwisgaar looked around Charles's sitting room. "You gots de boringks taste."
"Skwisgaar?"
"I does what you says, I gets it, cans you just does dis?"
If he was going to be that way, fine. Charles made a show of putting on his rubber gloves, making sure to snap them at the wrists. Skwisgaar flinched, which told Charles everything he needed to know.
"Shh." He squeezed Skwisgaar's hips with his thighs. "It's just a pinch. How 'bout I, uh, give you a blowjob when I'm finished? And I fuck you if you can take both?"
"You was goings to does dat anysway, Misters Ribs-For-Mine-Pleasuresk."
Skwisgaar cracked enough of a grin to make Charles comfortable with setting up the rest of his piercing kit. Fucking virgins. Half the time, they jumped him, and the other half, they went crying for their mommies. This was a bad idea, and he should have known better.
But, goddamn, Skwisgaar wasn't called a sex god for nothing, and Charles wasn't a machine. He looked Skwisgaar up and down as he tore open an iodine pad. His long, flat muscles stood out around his ribcage as he breathed, leaving shadows on his pallid skin. He had the perfect skin for tattooing, clear and only a couple of shades darker than Charles's, without any fucking body hair to get in the way. But, damn, even what little hair Skwisgaar had, the faint yellow tufts under his arms and the near-colorless trail leading down from his navel, went straight to Charles's imagination and made him wonder: did the bastard curse or moan when someone yanked it hard enough?
"Keep breathing." Charles gave Skwisgaar's right nipple a twist with the iodine pad. Skwisgaar gasped and arched his chest. Charles bit his lip--it was that or voice his approval one way or another, and the last thing he needed was to get Skwisgaar worked up and worried again. He traded his iodine pad for a needle and cork, and for an instant pictured Skwisgaar blindfolded. He gasped at a rush of blood to his erection.
"Whats?" Skwisgaar lifted his head, his eyes wide with worry and anticipation.
"Nothing."
"Ams dis makes you dats hornies? Punch de holes fulls of people?"
"Yes. Yes, it does."
"I's. . . likes de hole what ams alreadies dere."
Charles adjusted his grip on the needle. "Then that's the difference between us. Take a deep breath."
Skwisgaar did as he was told. "Good boy," Charles said, and was a little surprised to feel Skwisgaar's cock jerk against him.
A thrill of need shot through his spine and made him grit his teeth as he readied the needle beside Skwisgaar's nipple, hard and ready, and dark with iodine. If not for his sterile gloves, Charles would have let his prick out and given it an encouraging stroke or two. He touched the very tip of the needle to Skwisgaar's skin and shivered.
"Let it out slowly."
Skwisgaar's nipple gave way, the thin buttery layer of his skin and the gentle crunch of tissue beneath, between needle and cork, in a split second of cruelty. But Charles's low moan drowned beneath Skwisgaar's overwhelmed cry. Skwisgaar sat up and caught Charles with both arms, the needle still in his flesh, frenzied and panting, and kissed him until Charles had to put both arms in the air for the sake of his gloves.
"You fucks me," Skwisgaar said against Charles's tongue. "Rights now. You sticks de neddles in whiles you gots de dicks in me."
"God, yes," Charles said before he could stop himself. He shook his head. "No. No. No!" For needle play, god, yes. A thousand times, yes. But for a piercing that was going to stay? He'd learned that lesson the hard way. "Lie down."
Skwisgaar grazed his teeth over Charles's cheek. Charles closed his eyes at the sound of his day's stubble rasping against Skwisgaar's teeth, and his cock twitched. He gasped when Skwisgaar unbuttoned his jeans all the way and stroked him from balls to Prince Albert.
"You fucks me wit's all dis. You makes me come." Skwisgaar's lips brushed Charles's ear, smooth and warm, and he teased the two columns of barbells running alongside the vein underneath in a herringbone pattern, all the way to the crown Charles had given himself all around his cock's head. It had taken years to get it just right, but for this, for Skwisgaar's approval, it was worth it, and if this kept up, Charles was going to have the night of his---
"Lie. Down." Charles looked him in the eye. This was no time to go soft in the spine. He hadn't even got the needle out, and there was another one to go. Given Skwisgaar's reaction to the first one, it was bound to be a show.
Skwisgaar blinked. His mirth wilted, and he lay back on the floor, once more with his arms bent to the sides. Charles smirked. But it wouldn't do for the piercer to be the only one with his dick hanging out.
"Open your pants. Touch yourself."
"Ja." Looking Charles in the eye like a new Klokateer, Skwisgaar unzipped his jeans.
Charles looked down, pinching one end of the needle in Skwisgaar's nipple. He drew it back and forth to keep it from clotting in place, and Skwisgaar moaned and squeezed his cock so the uncut head darkened another shade of pink. Charles itched to give him a foreskin piercing, but held back. No reason to scare him.
"Keep doing that," he said as he returned to his piercing work. The smell in the room, no longer simple sweat and pheromones and a little bit of ozone, made him lightheaded, but he had worked under worse conditions. Backstage, during orgies, in crackhouses. He picked up the first lubricated ring and got it and its captive spring in place in Skwisgaar's nipple as quickly as he could, wiped off the iodine, and admired his work a moment. It suited Skwisgaar--and once the redness and swelling went down, it would suit him even more.
While Skwisgaar was distracted with playing with himself, Charles hurried through his second prep. The slow jerking beneath him and the throbbing of his heart pushed him a little further toward the edge of unreliability with each jolt. He bit his lip and glanced at Skwisgaar's face.
Skwisgaar's eyes were closed, his cheeks red, his nostrils flaring with every breath. Charles opened his mouth to tell him to take a deep breath and hold it. Skwisgaar licked his lips and left them parted. Panting. Moaning in Swedish like a practiced whore.
Charles doubled checked his angle and thrust the needle through Skwisgaar's flesh.
Skwisgaar arched up with a throaty cry. A drop of semen landed on the iodine-smeared patch around his left nipple, and more covered his stomach and the underside of Charles's cock. Charles stared, lost in the experience, until it was over. Only when Skwisgaar went limp did he remember his manners and kiss him.
"Uh, wow."
"Mm. Ja. You does dat again?"
". . . I'll put your ring in."
Skwisgaar smiled, and Charles hurried to finish up what he had been doing. His hands shook with adrenaline, though, and he dropped the spring on Skwisgaar's chest a couple of times. Finally, it popped into place, and he tightened his knees around Skwisgaar's hips as he pulled off his gloves, blood pounding in his ears so he could barely hear another thing. His cock ached to be slammed into Skwisgaar's mouth or ass, and part of him didn't really mind if Skwisgaar agreed to it or not. Charles squeezed his eyes shut and closed his fists, trying to pull himself together. The sea of endorphins and lust swamping his brain left him flailing to assemble a reasonable plan to get the fuck off---
Skwisgaar kept moving. And distracting him. He looked down, ready to shout the moron into submission, and found him with his jeans halfway off his hips.
"You fucks me," Skwisgaar said, and grinned. "I wants to feels all dats metals. Gots to feels pretty goods, ja?"
And Charles was back in college, on his back, struggling to get his jeans off as fast as he could before the incubus before him vanished in a puff of smoke.
Skwisgaar's jeans landed on his chest, and he tossed them, then his own wadded ones, aside, and hurried to his knees to crouch over Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar, in turn, ran a finger down Charles's chest and to his navel.
"Why you nots gots dis pierce?" he said, rummaging inside like he might find a treasure in lint.
"Because I'm not a teenage girl. Please stop that."
Skwisgaar did. Charles touched the swollen tip of one of his nipples, and Skwisgaar gasped in pain--not all of it good. Charles kissed it instead, thinking ahead to a time when he could suck and bite and tease it in all kinds of ways. Maybe even stretch the hole and see if he could make Skwisgaar come from the shock.
Skwisgaar took his wrist and slapped his tube of surgical lubricant into his hand. "Ams we doeses dis, or does I gots to go fucks Toki?"
Charles lifted an eyebrow. "You and Toki---"
"Noes, but it amns't stops him froms tryingsk." Skwisgaar nudged Charles in the ass with his heels. "Gets in dere and shows me de good times!"
If Charles had proven himself capable of anything in life, it was getting laid. He squeezed probably a little too much lube in his hand and, since it was Skwisgaar, went up on his knees to make a nice show of stroking himself. The chilly goo warmed within seconds of touching his palm, never mind his cock and its nice, warm collection of metal parts. He moaned when his barbells shifted--and again at the thought of what they would do once he got inside Skwisgaar.
"H-how much do you need?" he said as he worked his Prince Albert ring back and forth.
"Eh." Skwisgaar shrugged. The bastard was getting hard again already. Charles stroked him a couple of times for the hell of it---
"Hej! I nots de maskines!" Skwisgaar still lifted his hips and spread his legs wider. Charles took it as invitation for a nice smudge of lube and a finger inside, which earned him a long moan.
"Jaaaa, you fucks me now." Skwisgaar closed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head. Charles found his prostate and tickled it.
"Does dat wit's you dick. Den I screams."
"Douche." Charles gave him another tickle, and grinned at the desperate whimper he earned. He pulled his finger out (and grabbed a handful of sanitizer, things he fucking learned from a rimjob gone bad) and leaned over Skwisgaar. "Ready?"
Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. Charles figured it was a yes.
"Holy shits!" Skwisgaar said as soon as Charles got the top half of his crown of dydoes in. "SHITS!" he added when the second half followed and the herringbone barbells began. It enhanced things nicely for Charles, knowing his work was appreciated, and he leaned forward on his hands to enjoy himself before he had to get to work. Skwisgaar squirmed like a pinned lizard until Charles finally, finally, got the last barbell in and gazed down at him, balls-deep, while Skwisgaar panted open-mouthed like he had just sprinted from one end of Mordhaus to the other.
"Is this gonna be too much for you?" Charles said. "It's okay. You wouldn't be the first to cut your losses."
"Fucks dat!" Skwisgaar thrust his hips, eyes wild and teeth bared. "Gives it to me alls you got! You don'ts got de nough to be's too much fors me!"
Charles chuckled. Skwisgaar was, to put it bluntly, his bitch. He could probably pull out and get any filthy act he wanted as long as he promised to put it in again. But, well, he wanted to get off, too. So he took mercy and gave Skwisgaar a few slow, teasing thrusts--and, apparently, one across his prostate, with the Prince Albert bead by the feel of things, because he threw his head back and gave a choked cry that jolted Charles's balls like electricity. (Come to think, Skwisgaar might be into the violet wand. He might have to talk him into another session soon.)
Skwisgaar wrapped his legs around Charles's hips and drew him closer with both hands. "I tells you a secrets."
Charles smirked. "What?"
"Ams you gets me off ins de next two minutesk, I mights not haves to calls Toki ins to does it fors you."
Charles gave him the finger and drove his cock into the bastard as hard and deep as he could. Skwisgaar's choking noise and low, "Oh, jaaa," were enough to get him to do it again, and again, until he was biting his lip and flaring his nostrils and digging his fingers into the rug while Skwisgaar thrust back just as hard, shouting in Swedish and fuck-knew-what-else. Charles watched his eyes, waiting for them to lose focus. Once Skwisgaar was done for, he could let go and come like he hadn't in years. Motherfucking years.
"You comes forst." Skwisgaar panted, and wracked with a shout as Charles grazed his prostate again. "You comes forst!"
Fuck you, blondie, Charles longed to say, but the moment he quit biting his lip, he'd be done. A change in pace, in position, even a hand to his chest might set him off. All he could do was hope Skwisgaar was occupied with what they were doing---
It hadn't even occurred to him that Skwisgaar might have a taste for sweat before he licked a trickle of it from the side of Charles's neck.
"FUCK YOU!" The words burst from Charles's mouth as he came, and Skwisgaar moaned like the damned in his ear, riding him from below and soaking both of their abdomens. Charles shuddered, and shuddered again, and only stopped when he'd gone half-blind, crammed to the hilt inside the filthiest goddamn lay he'd had since. . . damned if he could remember.
He pulled out, getting his breath, and flopped on the floor next to Skwisgaar, who smiled at the ceiling, both hands behind his head.
"Dat was pretty goods, ja?"
"I think you tried to kill me." Charles smacked him in the stomach. "Have some respect for your elders."
Skwisgaar sighed. He sounded entirely too happy for someone who'd just had what should have been the best sex of his life. Charles leaned up on his elbow and inspected Skwisgaar's new piercings. They were a little swollen, no great surprise, but looked pretty good despite a touch of bleeding. He reached across for some sterile cotton, and paused when Skwisgaar caught his hand and kissed his knuckles.
"Ams you maybe wants to does de navels pierces somestime?" He smirked, and brushed his lips across the hairs on the backs of Charles's fingers. "Maybes, next weeks? I gets Toki to comes too, ams you wants."
Charles blinked. Then he grinned.
Oh, it was going to be a terribly long week indeed.