2 Fics: Or Thems Christmas Presents // Birthday Sex
Title: Or Thems Christmas Presents
Author lostscore
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Toki Wartooth, Dr. Rockso, Original Gear (577701, 399), Offdensen, Klokmums mentioned
Warnings: OMC-Centric, The beating of a Clown.
Summary: Beware the nice ones...and set your TiVo. For indigo_x who didn't want Rockso to get away with wrecking Christmas.
For a man who had just let Dr. Rockso into the William Murderface Christmas special, Klokateer 399 was a very happy man. Beyond the door was a veritable mess, but all four of the Dethklok servants assigned to overseeing the mess were gleefully texting on their mobile phones.
Back at Mordhaus, the various Klokateers working the holidays and those spending time with their families were hooking up the VCRs.
Dethklok didn’t really know or care much about the hoods, but the group knew eachother well. When your existence was reduced to a number and a uniform, you tended to try and make some friends or live out a very lonely existence. Even if they died within a few weeks.
The reason for the excitement and mass TiVoing was that one 577701 had been called in to do damage control, due to the high possibility of a Toki Wartooth freakout. After the siege on Mordhaus, the Gear population had dropped to an all time low and Charles Offdensen wasn’t taking any chances on losing more.
Despite being about seven feet and 350 pounds of solid presence, 577701, otherwise known as ‘Darren’ or ‘Big D’ was about the gentlest, soft-spoken person you’d ever meet. He was given over to being kind to fans rather than killing them, gently depositing them outside or chivvying them away. It was no secret that the big guy must have done something impressive given that the traditional Gear hiring process involved killing people with your bare hands. They just wished they could see it.
Darren worked 362 days out of every year - only leaving on the 23rd of December and returning to work on the 26th. Apparently he went to Japan to visit the grave of his dead wife and the boss had always been accommodating in giving him the holidays he asked for. While the rest of the Gears were sorry that he was losing his vacation time, they were excited by the possibility of watching a test run of 577701 unleashed on that disgusting, cocaine addled clown.
When Darren arrived, he looked grim. The other four gears tried not to glance at eachother too expectantly as he wrenched open the stage door and walked in. At first, it was somewhat disappointing. Darren quickly pulled the cross away from Stella Murderface and checked her for serious injury, then spoke quietly to Toki who seemed to understand. Next he pulled apart the preacher and Murderface before gently extracting Serveta Skwigelf from the clown.
“Why did you steal Toki’s presents?”
Rockso evidently didn’t know 577701 too well. He was definitely freaked. “I d-d-don’t know, baby…Dr. Rockso just needed his COCAINE!”
577701 growled. “You will apologize to Lord Toki and then I will haul your ass back to jail. If you ever come within a hundred feet of any member of Dethklok ever again…”
“Or thems Christmas presents!” Toki chimed in.
“Or their Christmas presents, one of the snipers will be instructed to shoot you on sight.”
“O-k-k-kay…I’ll do what you say. No more paling around with T-toki.”
There was a pause. Gear 577701 turned to the cameras. “Merry Christmas.” To the delight of all watching, he pulled back one massive fist and cracked Dr. Rockso right in the nose. The reconstructed spiked ball on the end of his nose as well as the nose itself crumbled to dust, a fine spray of blood misting the enormous Gear.
Somewhere in Mordhaus, Charles Offdensen turned off his television to allow the image to be burned onto his retinas forever.
Title: Birthday Sex
Author lostscore
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Nathan, Murderface, Skwisgaar, Toki, Pickles and a random GMILF.
Warnings: Nathan/Murderface. Slash. Male on Male sex described in detail. Mentions of Gmilf sex and het-sex. Blowjobs.
Summary: For CDRhom who requested I write consentual Nathan/Murderface porn. Set after Birthdayface - Nathan makes up for giving Murderface nothing...in his own way. This would be my first time writing de pornz, so please be somewhat nice. Or don't.
Of all the members of Dethklok, Murderface was the only one who Nathan could talk to. Sure, Toki was a bit more fun to fool around with as with the Norweigian’s musculature he could wrestle without a chance of seriously hurting him and guys like Skwisgaar and Pickles had more self-confidence. Murderface however had made the long journey from go-nowhere band to Dethklok at his side as well as coming with the added benefits of speaking the same language and being from an era that hadn’t included lame glam rock.
There was also the fact that he had a full guarantee that Murderface would be keeping his biggest, darkest, most brutal and-not-in-the-metal-way secret. Hell, thanks to Murderface’s over-the-top frequent efforts which he evidently thought were masking the issue, Nathan was quite secure in that he would never even be suspected in the offing.
There seemed to be no need to bring up the past anyway. It had been a temporary thing and they’d both agreed that being in Dethklok got them all the hot sluts they could ever want. Who cared what had happened in the confines of a shit two bedroom flat?
For a long time, Nathan hadn’t thought about it at all. As it happened, it was hard to do serious thinking in between drinking, groupies and writing new songs for their first CD release. Popularity was one hell of a drug, regardless of what Pickles said about meth. It was the evening after their first release party; the first bit of downtime they’d had that the situation really hit Nathan.
“Lasts nights. I was havings two totally hots gmilfs with de blues hairs.” Skiwsgaar was telling them. “You sees how I shows you hows to gets hers and de pretty girls into de beds, Toki?’
“Ams nots fairs Skiwsgaars. I ams seeings de pretty goil firsts. You ams only wantings cause I wants hers. And anyways I hads lots of funs with de Sallys. She was cutes blondes goils. We mades de candy necklaces and hads lots of kissings!”
Pickles chuckled to himself. “I got ya both beet doods. Blonde bombshell twins.”
Murderface was silent, reaching for the leftover chicken wings. Nathan mirrored him across the table, catching his eye briefly…or Nathan thought he might have.
“C’mon Nate. We know Murderface didn’t get anyone like always so what ‘bout you?”
“Brunette, redhead. Both got huge tits. An’ an Asian chick came by later” The frontman grunted around a mouthful of chicken wing as it struck him how damn boring that was. Even with the Asian chick. She’d been kinda kinky.
Pickles didn’t seem to notice Nathan’s apparent lack of enthusiasm. “Ahhh, Nate wins. Good going.”
Skwisgaar wasn’t willing to concede the point. “Pfft. I ams thinkings maybes I wins. I ams doings all mines togethers. Nat’ans ams havings de breaks.”
Nathan didn’t make to defend his spot as Pickles and Toki seemed quite determined to do that for him. What was bothering him was how easy it all was. He didn’t have to try to get those girls into bed. All they wanted to do was lay back and enjoy the ride. There was none of the satisfaction you got from convincing some standoffish bitch to hop into bed with you. When you were a member of Dethklok it was always just as simple as catching someone’s eye.
Speaking of, he managed to catch Murderface’s gaze again over the table and the thoughts came unbidden into his head. Now that was a challenge. He growled under his breath and looked away.
“Somethin’ the matter Nate?” Pickles seemed to have realized Nathan had dropped out of the conversation.
“Was just thinking that it’s all kind of easy now, don’t you think? The Women. I need uh…a challenge.”
“Maybe you is needings a FBL.”
“A challengshe huh? Like in the old daysh?’
Nathan froze. “No. The old days are uhhhh in the past. Totally over.”
***
2 years prior to Dethklok:
“Was uhhh…a pretty good crowd huh.” Nathan crashed into a chair, a little bit drunk and trying to stave off the disappointment of being back in the damn piece of shit house they shared with their two other bandmates and a weird pet Norwegian roadie-kid. Three male bandmates and an underage kid were huge brutal cockblocks. Porn and his hand were getting real old, real fast.
“I hear you.” Murderface was not done drinking yet it seemed. He plopped himself down next to Nathan despondently. “I totally thoughtsh thoshe shkanksh by the bar were gonna go home with us.’
“They probably didn’t like you calling them, y’know…skanks.” Nathan said, but his words held no real malice.
“I ain’t fuckin’ no chicksh who don’t reshpect me.”
“S’wise of ya bro.” Nathan picked up a beer. No sense letting the man drink alone.
“Can’t wait until we make it. Then the schluts will be lined up outshide. S’gonna be schweet.”
Nathan wished Murderface would shut up about sex. “Don’t talk about getting laid dude. I think my cock’s getting raw from my hand.”
Murderface gave him a look that suggested he was going to flip out. For a guy who whipped his junk out on a regular basis in front of thousands of people to play bass, he was weirdly self-conscious about talking about normal dude stuff like wanking it. Instead, he took another swig of beer. “Me too.”
Another swig of beer. “Fuck.”
Murderface knocked back the rest of his and reached for another one. Something had to be up. The guy never drank more than Nathan did. “What if…we jusht…made out with eachother?”
“Dude, isn’t that…y’know…really gay?”
“No, no. Shee.. I’ll pretend that you’re Shigorney Weaver and you can pretend I’m that hot schkank with the titties from the bar.”
It only took both of them another two beers before they decided to do it. It wasn’t anything special, just some making out. Nathan kept his eyes closed and found it wasn’t too hard to pretend he was actually kissing a woman. That was of course until he thought about it. He opened his eyes to make sure Murderface didn’t have them open.
“Fuck, why’d you open your eyesh?”
“Why’d you open them?”
“To shee if you were, dipschit.”
Nathan frowned and pulled away a bit. “I kinda y’know…hate to admit it…but that was kinda okay. And stuff.”
“Yeah. Jusht ash long ash itsh jusht kisshing.”
That was how it started. A good challenge. No woman anywhere was as satisfying to get to do anything than it was to get Murderface to do something. He fought it. He even fought it drunk, which was supposed to be the sure thing and stuff.
Then Dethklok had happened. The only problem was, it hadn’t happened for Murderface.
The real problem wasn’t that Nathan didn’t want to be pals with Murderface anymore. He’d just underestimated something. Not Murderface’s self-esteem; that was already low enough. It was his own sense of leadership. The amount of clout that the big front man held over the two guitarists and the drummer went whizzing right over his own head.
If Nathan made fun of the bassist then everyone else did too and that was that.
***
That night, Nathan smirked to himself as he threw together his own little gag for the party. He normally really hated getting people gifts but he’d known exactly what to get for Murderface: a box with nothing inside. Y’know, just like the old days when you came home from a gig with nothing in your pockets except the knowledge that someone finally had heard your crappy fucking band. Nothing WAS totally the most brutal gift ever.
He just hadn’t been expecting the others to chime in with their own two cents. “We gaht yer favourite thing! Disappointment!”
Pickles voice rang out across the silent hall and Nathan had half a mind to punch him. How the hell had Pickles and the others gotten in on this private shared joke anyway? Now he was going to have to do damage control.
The demolition derby and car had gone over fairly well. It wasn’t going to be enough though and he knew it. He had lived with the other man for long enough to realize that if there was to be peace in the recording studio the next day, Nathan would have to make sure Murderface got it, and god damn did he ever fucking hate having to explain himself.
Nonetheless, he stood outside Murderface’s door, hoping beyond hope that he could still do this. A challege. Yeah. If he’d been longing for the old days, he’d got them.
Nathan Explosion didn’t knock. He just barged into the room. “Sorry that uh. My gift made you want to run away and stuff.”
Murderface shrugged. “I’m not leaving the band. Ish that all you came down here to shay?”
“Nah. I mean. The joke. Was supposed to be about the old days. I didn’t. Didn’t mean for the other guys to get in on it. That shit. Cause they don’t get it and stuff.”
“They’re all followshing you.”
“Everyone makes fun of the bass player. It’s like…a joke thing. Lots of bands do it. You uh…you didn’t used to care.”
Murderface let out a sigh that escaped as a whistle between the gap in his front teeth. Nathan could be amazingly insightful about certain things but when it came to his own power - both physical and mental he was just as stupid as he claimed. “They’re jusht following whatever you do. You let them make fun of me over the Nothing thing, you’re letting them make fun of ush.”
This time Nathan got it. “Aw. Aw fuck them I’m gonna…”
“Whoopsh. Thatsh pricsheless Chivil War Memorabilia there, doushebag.” Murderface caught a bowie knife before it could slip off the table and rob Nathan of his toes. Which would have been pretty brutal, but definitely would have ruined the mood.
Nathan was surprised that after all that there was indeed a mood to ruin.
“You’re gonna do what, Tonto? Fuck up the whole band dynamicsh jusht for me? No, you’re not gonna do that and you knowsh it.”
Nathan frowned. This was worse than he thought. “I dunno, I thought uh that idea of stringing people up with meat hooks and junk was uh…pretty brutal.”
Success: Murderface cracked a half grin. “Pershonally I think schoving their eyeballsh up their asshes hash shome real merit.”
Nathan came and sat next to him on the bed. “Good idea for a song.” He was so going to regret that one later - soon Murderface would be claiming he wrote all Dethklok’s songs. He had a good idea of where to go with it though. “Would be totally metal to like…fuck on the corpses. Like. For a birthday present. Birthday…corpse…pile…fucking. And that happens. For your birthday.”
Murderface gave him a look. “Sho you were thinking about that.”
“Uhhh. Yeah. About y’know…fucking. Not your birthday.”
“You really thought ‘Nothing’ would get me into your pantsh?”
“Like they say…I uh. Tried. Y’know. For the uh…record.”
Murderface appeared to be considering it at least. “Y’know, itsh kinda hot when you shay the robot thingsh.”
Nathan considered this, decided to take it as a compliment and continued. “So…are we gonna like…do it now?”
“Well thatsh romantic.”
No no, that was definitely a backwards step. “Uhhh what do you want me to do?”
“Well I don’t want to be treated like one of your chicksh, thatsh not metal.”
Nathan decided by that point he’d had enough of this talking horse shit and kissed him. It had the added bonus of shutting him up. One big hand found its way to the fly on Murderface’s shorts and pulled it down.
“Jackassh.” Murderface’s voice was muffled against Nathan’s lips as a lack of patience on his partner’s behalf caused the button on his shorts to part company with the rest of the material.
“Still easier than a bra.” Nathan mumbled back, moving his ministrations from lips to throat.
Murderface didn’t respond, he only wriggled his lower half a bit to work his shorts down his hips. He was of course, freeballing and his cock was already at full attention, calluses standing out white against the engorged flesh.
Nathan gave the briefest pause. Murderface was making it pretty clear what he wanted here and it wasn’t the way it worked. On the other hand…well, it was the guy’s birthday. What the hell. Besides, even if Murderface blabbed, who would ever believe Nathan Explosion kneeling at someone’s feet?
“Brutal.” Nathan muttered. He’d actually never given a blowjob before but he did know what he liked, so he went for it. It wasn’t really bad like all the guys figured. Kinda like sucking your finger after a long hunting trip. Huh.
Above him, Murderface watched the long fall of black hair brush back and forth across his thighs as Nathan’s mouth worked at his cock, tongue laving around the tip, the hand that wasn’t supporting his kneeling pose coming up to fondle his balls and…
“Schitt…Oh Schweet Jezush!” Murderface threw back his head and moaned his ecstasy to the stone roof as Nathan took him all the way in, a low growl, normally reserved for the stage reverberating against the tip of his penis. There was no need to pretend anything. The reality was far too good. ‘M’gonna…”
Nathan was not quick enough in taking the warning and with another cry, Murderface blew his load into Nathan’s mouth who promptly spat it out with a grumble of “Metal.” Heaving himself up off the floor, he barely allowed Murderface to catch his breath before catching him around the shoulders and pulling them both back onto the bed.
“Lube’s…in the bedside table drawer.” Murderface was in no mood to question a good situation. The humiliation and annoyance from earlier was long forgotten - a bitter little speck in the far dark corners of his mind.
Returning after a moment, Nathan had with him a condom and a small bottle of personal lubricant - unscented, thank God. He’d been in Skwisgaar’s room and it frequently smelled like someone had fucked a bowl of potpourri. Murderface obediently turned over, climbing onto his hands and knees.
“No. On…your back and stuff. Want to look at your face and stuff.”
“You’re not pretending either?” Murderface asked with surprise, glad to have something to do so that he didn’t have to look directly at Nathan.
“Yeah. Uh…cause it’s your birthday and stuff.”
Murderface actually smiled. “Thatsh…nicsesh of you.”
In reply, Nathan grinned a rather feral grin. While Murderface had been making a production out of arranging himself on the bed, the frontman had divested himself of his clothing and was sitting back on his heels, fully erect in full naked glory. Murderface gazed down at his partner’s penis with awe that never seemed to diminish no matter how many times he’d seen it. Not that Murderface had anything to be ashamed of, apart from maybe the calluses but damnit Nathan was huge. He could feel arousal stirring again in the pit of his stomach.
Squeezing a generous dollop of the lubricant into his hand, Nathan hiked one of Murderface’s legs up to rest on his shoulder, which forced him to slide back and expose his ass.
“Sh’cold.” Murderface hissed as Nathan worked one digit inside, stretching him somewhat uncomfortably. He forgot about it as the other hand snaked his way up his chest to toy with one nipple, teasing it until it was a hard nub.
The second finger was a bigger to-do, as Murderface’s vision suddenly exploded with light and he moaned aloud. Nathan stroked the spot again and the other man gasped and squirmed, thrusting against his hand as he tried vainly to get more of the sensation. He barely noticed Nathan working another finger in, stretching as the teasing hand at his nipples slipped down to its owners cock, preparing it with lube.
Even with preparation, it took a brave man to take Nathan Explosion. At least, this was what Murderface told himself. It did make it seem a little less gay. He bit his lip as Nathan entered him. “Wait…” he muttered, wanting a few moments to get used to the sensation. He lowered the leg on Nathan’s shoulder and brought the other one up to wrap around the front man’s middle.
“Can’t wait any longer.” Nathan growled. Burried to the hilt in tight hot heat and being asked to wait was practically torment and Nathan Explosion was not a patient man. Figuring Murderface had had enough time, he started to thrust, hard and fast, nearly coming all the way out of Murderface before driving right back in. Murderface grunted and Nathan roared, the headboard slamming hard against the stone wall.
The voices didn’t penetrate the walls, but the loud clunks of headboard did. In the next room over, a blue-haired head lifted itself from its resting place on the smooth chest of Skwisgaar Skwigelf and inquired in a rather quavery voice ‘Skwisgaar, dear? What was that?”
“Pfft. Ams just stupids bass players pretending that he ams havings de ladies ins hims rooms agains.”
When the headboard pounding increased in intensity however, even Skwisgaar wasn’t entirely certain. As the band’s resident Lothario, he was an expert on realistic headboard banging…and this sounded suspiciously real to him. Maybe Murderface really had found a lady willing to fuck him.
Nos. That was dildoes.
Approaching climax, Nathan’s breathing was became more sporadic, huffing out in great puffs as he rutted Murderface’s ass, the later’s hand stroking his own cock. Nathan’s black hair whipped back as he let out a primal roar, coming deep inside of Murderface. A second later, Murderface came as well, hot semen spilling across his stomach and obscuring the tattoo emblazoned across his lower chest.
Nathan pulled himself free and collapsed heavily next to the bassist while Murderface cleaned the mess off himself with a shirt and tossed it next to his ruined shorts.
“Fuck…that wash good.” Murderface commented, somewhat breathlessly but Nathan was already passed out, one hand still draped across the bassist. Deciding it was a good idea, Murderface lay back and closed his eyes as well, the last fleeting thought drifting across his mind that the party hadn’t been a complete waste of time after all.
***
The next week in Band therapy, if anyone noticed that Murderface’s pranks and insults had been hurled at everyone but Nathan, no one commented.
Author lostscore
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Toki Wartooth, Dr. Rockso, Original Gear (577701, 399), Offdensen, Klokmums mentioned
Warnings: OMC-Centric, The beating of a Clown.
Summary: Beware the nice ones...and set your TiVo. For indigo_x who didn't want Rockso to get away with wrecking Christmas.
For a man who had just let Dr. Rockso into the William Murderface Christmas special, Klokateer 399 was a very happy man. Beyond the door was a veritable mess, but all four of the Dethklok servants assigned to overseeing the mess were gleefully texting on their mobile phones.
Back at Mordhaus, the various Klokateers working the holidays and those spending time with their families were hooking up the VCRs.
Dethklok didn’t really know or care much about the hoods, but the group knew eachother well. When your existence was reduced to a number and a uniform, you tended to try and make some friends or live out a very lonely existence. Even if they died within a few weeks.
The reason for the excitement and mass TiVoing was that one 577701 had been called in to do damage control, due to the high possibility of a Toki Wartooth freakout. After the siege on Mordhaus, the Gear population had dropped to an all time low and Charles Offdensen wasn’t taking any chances on losing more.
Despite being about seven feet and 350 pounds of solid presence, 577701, otherwise known as ‘Darren’ or ‘Big D’ was about the gentlest, soft-spoken person you’d ever meet. He was given over to being kind to fans rather than killing them, gently depositing them outside or chivvying them away. It was no secret that the big guy must have done something impressive given that the traditional Gear hiring process involved killing people with your bare hands. They just wished they could see it.
Darren worked 362 days out of every year - only leaving on the 23rd of December and returning to work on the 26th. Apparently he went to Japan to visit the grave of his dead wife and the boss had always been accommodating in giving him the holidays he asked for. While the rest of the Gears were sorry that he was losing his vacation time, they were excited by the possibility of watching a test run of 577701 unleashed on that disgusting, cocaine addled clown.
When Darren arrived, he looked grim. The other four gears tried not to glance at eachother too expectantly as he wrenched open the stage door and walked in. At first, it was somewhat disappointing. Darren quickly pulled the cross away from Stella Murderface and checked her for serious injury, then spoke quietly to Toki who seemed to understand. Next he pulled apart the preacher and Murderface before gently extracting Serveta Skwigelf from the clown.
“Why did you steal Toki’s presents?”
Rockso evidently didn’t know 577701 too well. He was definitely freaked. “I d-d-don’t know, baby…Dr. Rockso just needed his COCAINE!”
577701 growled. “You will apologize to Lord Toki and then I will haul your ass back to jail. If you ever come within a hundred feet of any member of Dethklok ever again…”
“Or thems Christmas presents!” Toki chimed in.
“Or their Christmas presents, one of the snipers will be instructed to shoot you on sight.”
“O-k-k-kay…I’ll do what you say. No more paling around with T-toki.”
There was a pause. Gear 577701 turned to the cameras. “Merry Christmas.” To the delight of all watching, he pulled back one massive fist and cracked Dr. Rockso right in the nose. The reconstructed spiked ball on the end of his nose as well as the nose itself crumbled to dust, a fine spray of blood misting the enormous Gear.
Somewhere in Mordhaus, Charles Offdensen turned off his television to allow the image to be burned onto his retinas forever.
Title: Birthday Sex
Author lostscore
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Nathan, Murderface, Skwisgaar, Toki, Pickles and a random GMILF.
Warnings: Nathan/Murderface. Slash. Male on Male sex described in detail. Mentions of Gmilf sex and het-sex. Blowjobs.
Summary: For CDRhom who requested I write consentual Nathan/Murderface porn. Set after Birthdayface - Nathan makes up for giving Murderface nothing...in his own way. This would be my first time writing de pornz, so please be somewhat nice. Or don't.
Of all the members of Dethklok, Murderface was the only one who Nathan could talk to. Sure, Toki was a bit more fun to fool around with as with the Norweigian’s musculature he could wrestle without a chance of seriously hurting him and guys like Skwisgaar and Pickles had more self-confidence. Murderface however had made the long journey from go-nowhere band to Dethklok at his side as well as coming with the added benefits of speaking the same language and being from an era that hadn’t included lame glam rock.
There was also the fact that he had a full guarantee that Murderface would be keeping his biggest, darkest, most brutal and-not-in-the-metal-way secret. Hell, thanks to Murderface’s over-the-top frequent efforts which he evidently thought were masking the issue, Nathan was quite secure in that he would never even be suspected in the offing.
There seemed to be no need to bring up the past anyway. It had been a temporary thing and they’d both agreed that being in Dethklok got them all the hot sluts they could ever want. Who cared what had happened in the confines of a shit two bedroom flat?
For a long time, Nathan hadn’t thought about it at all. As it happened, it was hard to do serious thinking in between drinking, groupies and writing new songs for their first CD release. Popularity was one hell of a drug, regardless of what Pickles said about meth. It was the evening after their first release party; the first bit of downtime they’d had that the situation really hit Nathan.
“Lasts nights. I was havings two totally hots gmilfs with de blues hairs.” Skiwsgaar was telling them. “You sees how I shows you hows to gets hers and de pretty girls into de beds, Toki?’
“Ams nots fairs Skiwsgaars. I ams seeings de pretty goil firsts. You ams only wantings cause I wants hers. And anyways I hads lots of funs with de Sallys. She was cutes blondes goils. We mades de candy necklaces and hads lots of kissings!”
Pickles chuckled to himself. “I got ya both beet doods. Blonde bombshell twins.”
Murderface was silent, reaching for the leftover chicken wings. Nathan mirrored him across the table, catching his eye briefly…or Nathan thought he might have.
“C’mon Nate. We know Murderface didn’t get anyone like always so what ‘bout you?”
“Brunette, redhead. Both got huge tits. An’ an Asian chick came by later” The frontman grunted around a mouthful of chicken wing as it struck him how damn boring that was. Even with the Asian chick. She’d been kinda kinky.
Pickles didn’t seem to notice Nathan’s apparent lack of enthusiasm. “Ahhh, Nate wins. Good going.”
Skwisgaar wasn’t willing to concede the point. “Pfft. I ams thinkings maybes I wins. I ams doings all mines togethers. Nat’ans ams havings de breaks.”
Nathan didn’t make to defend his spot as Pickles and Toki seemed quite determined to do that for him. What was bothering him was how easy it all was. He didn’t have to try to get those girls into bed. All they wanted to do was lay back and enjoy the ride. There was none of the satisfaction you got from convincing some standoffish bitch to hop into bed with you. When you were a member of Dethklok it was always just as simple as catching someone’s eye.
Speaking of, he managed to catch Murderface’s gaze again over the table and the thoughts came unbidden into his head. Now that was a challenge. He growled under his breath and looked away.
“Somethin’ the matter Nate?” Pickles seemed to have realized Nathan had dropped out of the conversation.
“Was just thinking that it’s all kind of easy now, don’t you think? The Women. I need uh…a challenge.”
“Maybe you is needings a FBL.”
“A challengshe huh? Like in the old daysh?’
Nathan froze. “No. The old days are uhhhh in the past. Totally over.”
***
2 years prior to Dethklok:
“Was uhhh…a pretty good crowd huh.” Nathan crashed into a chair, a little bit drunk and trying to stave off the disappointment of being back in the damn piece of shit house they shared with their two other bandmates and a weird pet Norwegian roadie-kid. Three male bandmates and an underage kid were huge brutal cockblocks. Porn and his hand were getting real old, real fast.
“I hear you.” Murderface was not done drinking yet it seemed. He plopped himself down next to Nathan despondently. “I totally thoughtsh thoshe shkanksh by the bar were gonna go home with us.’
“They probably didn’t like you calling them, y’know…skanks.” Nathan said, but his words held no real malice.
“I ain’t fuckin’ no chicksh who don’t reshpect me.”
“S’wise of ya bro.” Nathan picked up a beer. No sense letting the man drink alone.
“Can’t wait until we make it. Then the schluts will be lined up outshide. S’gonna be schweet.”
Nathan wished Murderface would shut up about sex. “Don’t talk about getting laid dude. I think my cock’s getting raw from my hand.”
Murderface gave him a look that suggested he was going to flip out. For a guy who whipped his junk out on a regular basis in front of thousands of people to play bass, he was weirdly self-conscious about talking about normal dude stuff like wanking it. Instead, he took another swig of beer. “Me too.”
Another swig of beer. “Fuck.”
Murderface knocked back the rest of his and reached for another one. Something had to be up. The guy never drank more than Nathan did. “What if…we jusht…made out with eachother?”
“Dude, isn’t that…y’know…really gay?”
“No, no. Shee.. I’ll pretend that you’re Shigorney Weaver and you can pretend I’m that hot schkank with the titties from the bar.”
It only took both of them another two beers before they decided to do it. It wasn’t anything special, just some making out. Nathan kept his eyes closed and found it wasn’t too hard to pretend he was actually kissing a woman. That was of course until he thought about it. He opened his eyes to make sure Murderface didn’t have them open.
“Fuck, why’d you open your eyesh?”
“Why’d you open them?”
“To shee if you were, dipschit.”
Nathan frowned and pulled away a bit. “I kinda y’know…hate to admit it…but that was kinda okay. And stuff.”
“Yeah. Jusht ash long ash itsh jusht kisshing.”
That was how it started. A good challenge. No woman anywhere was as satisfying to get to do anything than it was to get Murderface to do something. He fought it. He even fought it drunk, which was supposed to be the sure thing and stuff.
Then Dethklok had happened. The only problem was, it hadn’t happened for Murderface.
The real problem wasn’t that Nathan didn’t want to be pals with Murderface anymore. He’d just underestimated something. Not Murderface’s self-esteem; that was already low enough. It was his own sense of leadership. The amount of clout that the big front man held over the two guitarists and the drummer went whizzing right over his own head.
If Nathan made fun of the bassist then everyone else did too and that was that.
***
That night, Nathan smirked to himself as he threw together his own little gag for the party. He normally really hated getting people gifts but he’d known exactly what to get for Murderface: a box with nothing inside. Y’know, just like the old days when you came home from a gig with nothing in your pockets except the knowledge that someone finally had heard your crappy fucking band. Nothing WAS totally the most brutal gift ever.
He just hadn’t been expecting the others to chime in with their own two cents. “We gaht yer favourite thing! Disappointment!”
Pickles voice rang out across the silent hall and Nathan had half a mind to punch him. How the hell had Pickles and the others gotten in on this private shared joke anyway? Now he was going to have to do damage control.
The demolition derby and car had gone over fairly well. It wasn’t going to be enough though and he knew it. He had lived with the other man for long enough to realize that if there was to be peace in the recording studio the next day, Nathan would have to make sure Murderface got it, and god damn did he ever fucking hate having to explain himself.
Nonetheless, he stood outside Murderface’s door, hoping beyond hope that he could still do this. A challege. Yeah. If he’d been longing for the old days, he’d got them.
Nathan Explosion didn’t knock. He just barged into the room. “Sorry that uh. My gift made you want to run away and stuff.”
Murderface shrugged. “I’m not leaving the band. Ish that all you came down here to shay?”
“Nah. I mean. The joke. Was supposed to be about the old days. I didn’t. Didn’t mean for the other guys to get in on it. That shit. Cause they don’t get it and stuff.”
“They’re all followshing you.”
“Everyone makes fun of the bass player. It’s like…a joke thing. Lots of bands do it. You uh…you didn’t used to care.”
Murderface let out a sigh that escaped as a whistle between the gap in his front teeth. Nathan could be amazingly insightful about certain things but when it came to his own power - both physical and mental he was just as stupid as he claimed. “They’re jusht following whatever you do. You let them make fun of me over the Nothing thing, you’re letting them make fun of ush.”
This time Nathan got it. “Aw. Aw fuck them I’m gonna…”
“Whoopsh. Thatsh pricsheless Chivil War Memorabilia there, doushebag.” Murderface caught a bowie knife before it could slip off the table and rob Nathan of his toes. Which would have been pretty brutal, but definitely would have ruined the mood.
Nathan was surprised that after all that there was indeed a mood to ruin.
“You’re gonna do what, Tonto? Fuck up the whole band dynamicsh jusht for me? No, you’re not gonna do that and you knowsh it.”
Nathan frowned. This was worse than he thought. “I dunno, I thought uh that idea of stringing people up with meat hooks and junk was uh…pretty brutal.”
Success: Murderface cracked a half grin. “Pershonally I think schoving their eyeballsh up their asshes hash shome real merit.”
Nathan came and sat next to him on the bed. “Good idea for a song.” He was so going to regret that one later - soon Murderface would be claiming he wrote all Dethklok’s songs. He had a good idea of where to go with it though. “Would be totally metal to like…fuck on the corpses. Like. For a birthday present. Birthday…corpse…pile…fucking. And that happens. For your birthday.”
Murderface gave him a look. “Sho you were thinking about that.”
“Uhhh. Yeah. About y’know…fucking. Not your birthday.”
“You really thought ‘Nothing’ would get me into your pantsh?”
“Like they say…I uh. Tried. Y’know. For the uh…record.”
Murderface appeared to be considering it at least. “Y’know, itsh kinda hot when you shay the robot thingsh.”
Nathan considered this, decided to take it as a compliment and continued. “So…are we gonna like…do it now?”
“Well thatsh romantic.”
No no, that was definitely a backwards step. “Uhhh what do you want me to do?”
“Well I don’t want to be treated like one of your chicksh, thatsh not metal.”
Nathan decided by that point he’d had enough of this talking horse shit and kissed him. It had the added bonus of shutting him up. One big hand found its way to the fly on Murderface’s shorts and pulled it down.
“Jackassh.” Murderface’s voice was muffled against Nathan’s lips as a lack of patience on his partner’s behalf caused the button on his shorts to part company with the rest of the material.
“Still easier than a bra.” Nathan mumbled back, moving his ministrations from lips to throat.
Murderface didn’t respond, he only wriggled his lower half a bit to work his shorts down his hips. He was of course, freeballing and his cock was already at full attention, calluses standing out white against the engorged flesh.
Nathan gave the briefest pause. Murderface was making it pretty clear what he wanted here and it wasn’t the way it worked. On the other hand…well, it was the guy’s birthday. What the hell. Besides, even if Murderface blabbed, who would ever believe Nathan Explosion kneeling at someone’s feet?
“Brutal.” Nathan muttered. He’d actually never given a blowjob before but he did know what he liked, so he went for it. It wasn’t really bad like all the guys figured. Kinda like sucking your finger after a long hunting trip. Huh.
Above him, Murderface watched the long fall of black hair brush back and forth across his thighs as Nathan’s mouth worked at his cock, tongue laving around the tip, the hand that wasn’t supporting his kneeling pose coming up to fondle his balls and…
“Schitt…Oh Schweet Jezush!” Murderface threw back his head and moaned his ecstasy to the stone roof as Nathan took him all the way in, a low growl, normally reserved for the stage reverberating against the tip of his penis. There was no need to pretend anything. The reality was far too good. ‘M’gonna…”
Nathan was not quick enough in taking the warning and with another cry, Murderface blew his load into Nathan’s mouth who promptly spat it out with a grumble of “Metal.” Heaving himself up off the floor, he barely allowed Murderface to catch his breath before catching him around the shoulders and pulling them both back onto the bed.
“Lube’s…in the bedside table drawer.” Murderface was in no mood to question a good situation. The humiliation and annoyance from earlier was long forgotten - a bitter little speck in the far dark corners of his mind.
Returning after a moment, Nathan had with him a condom and a small bottle of personal lubricant - unscented, thank God. He’d been in Skwisgaar’s room and it frequently smelled like someone had fucked a bowl of potpourri. Murderface obediently turned over, climbing onto his hands and knees.
“No. On…your back and stuff. Want to look at your face and stuff.”
“You’re not pretending either?” Murderface asked with surprise, glad to have something to do so that he didn’t have to look directly at Nathan.
“Yeah. Uh…cause it’s your birthday and stuff.”
Murderface actually smiled. “Thatsh…nicsesh of you.”
In reply, Nathan grinned a rather feral grin. While Murderface had been making a production out of arranging himself on the bed, the frontman had divested himself of his clothing and was sitting back on his heels, fully erect in full naked glory. Murderface gazed down at his partner’s penis with awe that never seemed to diminish no matter how many times he’d seen it. Not that Murderface had anything to be ashamed of, apart from maybe the calluses but damnit Nathan was huge. He could feel arousal stirring again in the pit of his stomach.
Squeezing a generous dollop of the lubricant into his hand, Nathan hiked one of Murderface’s legs up to rest on his shoulder, which forced him to slide back and expose his ass.
“Sh’cold.” Murderface hissed as Nathan worked one digit inside, stretching him somewhat uncomfortably. He forgot about it as the other hand snaked his way up his chest to toy with one nipple, teasing it until it was a hard nub.
The second finger was a bigger to-do, as Murderface’s vision suddenly exploded with light and he moaned aloud. Nathan stroked the spot again and the other man gasped and squirmed, thrusting against his hand as he tried vainly to get more of the sensation. He barely noticed Nathan working another finger in, stretching as the teasing hand at his nipples slipped down to its owners cock, preparing it with lube.
Even with preparation, it took a brave man to take Nathan Explosion. At least, this was what Murderface told himself. It did make it seem a little less gay. He bit his lip as Nathan entered him. “Wait…” he muttered, wanting a few moments to get used to the sensation. He lowered the leg on Nathan’s shoulder and brought the other one up to wrap around the front man’s middle.
“Can’t wait any longer.” Nathan growled. Burried to the hilt in tight hot heat and being asked to wait was practically torment and Nathan Explosion was not a patient man. Figuring Murderface had had enough time, he started to thrust, hard and fast, nearly coming all the way out of Murderface before driving right back in. Murderface grunted and Nathan roared, the headboard slamming hard against the stone wall.
The voices didn’t penetrate the walls, but the loud clunks of headboard did. In the next room over, a blue-haired head lifted itself from its resting place on the smooth chest of Skwisgaar Skwigelf and inquired in a rather quavery voice ‘Skwisgaar, dear? What was that?”
“Pfft. Ams just stupids bass players pretending that he ams havings de ladies ins hims rooms agains.”
When the headboard pounding increased in intensity however, even Skwisgaar wasn’t entirely certain. As the band’s resident Lothario, he was an expert on realistic headboard banging…and this sounded suspiciously real to him. Maybe Murderface really had found a lady willing to fuck him.
Nos. That was dildoes.
Approaching climax, Nathan’s breathing was became more sporadic, huffing out in great puffs as he rutted Murderface’s ass, the later’s hand stroking his own cock. Nathan’s black hair whipped back as he let out a primal roar, coming deep inside of Murderface. A second later, Murderface came as well, hot semen spilling across his stomach and obscuring the tattoo emblazoned across his lower chest.
Nathan pulled himself free and collapsed heavily next to the bassist while Murderface cleaned the mess off himself with a shirt and tossed it next to his ruined shorts.
“Fuck…that wash good.” Murderface commented, somewhat breathlessly but Nathan was already passed out, one hand still draped across the bassist. Deciding it was a good idea, Murderface lay back and closed his eyes as well, the last fleeting thought drifting across his mind that the party hadn’t been a complete waste of time after all.
***
The next week in Band therapy, if anyone noticed that Murderface’s pranks and insults had been hurled at everyone but Nathan, no one commented.