Fic: Make It Up
Title: Make It Up
Summary: Charles isn't having it.
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Word Count: 1057
Rating/Contents: NC-17, D/s, jealousy
Pairing: Charles/Pickles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I am breaking my no-porn-at-work rule for you, internet.
Nathan knew something was wrong, even if he couldn't put his finger on it.
He looked around the living room, taking stock of his bandmates. Skwisgaar: making eyes with a lady who couldn't be a day under seventy. Toki: having an animated conversation about rabbits or some shit with a girl who was clearly tweaking. Murderface: already rejected by the groupies, in the corner playing video games.and swearing a lot. All that seemed pretty normal.
Pickles: sitting on the couch, a very pretty girl on his lap, giggling with her a lot.
Less normal, somehow, and it bothered the shit out of Nathan that he couldn't figure out why.
Nathan instinctively tensed up when Charles entered the room; Charles had watched him do everything up to and including snorting coke off the back of a live alligator, but Nathan still got that teacher-just-walked-in feeling every time he saw him.
Charles scanned the room; Nathan almost felt like telling him something was off, but that was too close to caring for his tastes. Charles seemed to know, anyway, because his eye kept doing that twitching thing.
"Pickles," Charles snapped. "If you wouldn't mind coming with me."
Pickles winked at the girl on his lap, kissing her on the cheek before she stood up. "See ya later, Maddy."
"I haves a seat for you," Skwisgaar said invitingly, and she giggled her way on over to his entourage as Charles and Pickles left the room.
Nathan went back to his beer. Definitely not his problem. Seemed better already, anyway.
--
Charles opened the door to his bedroom; he allowed Pickles to step inside before he closed the door, rather more firmly than was strictly necessary.
Pickles was smart enough to drop to his knees without any prompting. Charles went to the chest in the closet, pulling out what he needed. He walked back in front of Pickles, dropping the collar and lead unceremoniously on the floor. "Put them on or get out."
He turned away, listening to the sound of the leather and metal as Pickles did as he ordered. When he turned back, Pickles was waiting, the leash in his mouth; his eyes were downcast, but he was grinning around the leather, like things were going exactly to his plan. Charles frowned, taking the leash from him and wrapping it tightly around his hand. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
"No," Pickles said, taunting him. "Knew you would. S'why I did it."
Charles yanked sharply on the leash, knocking him off balance. "You're treading a very fine line."
"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it?"
He leaned down, getting right into Pickles's face. "You're mine," he barked. "If you're not careful, I'll beat the idea into you." He smirked in satisfaction as Pickles shivered. "Now," he said, straightening, "just this once, I'll allow you to make it up to me."
Pickles swallowed. "Whatever you want."
"Exactly," Charles said. He walked to the bed, tugging at the lead so that Pickles was forced to crawl behind him. He sat, spreading his legs and pulling Pickles up so they were face to face. "Suck me. Make it good."
Pickles winked at him, reaching for his zipper. "I always give you the best."
"You'd better," Charles warned, his breath hitching as Pickles wrapped a hand around his cock. Pickles only teased him for a moment, flicking his tongue against the head while he looked up into Charles's eyes; he smiled at Charles's stern expression, opening his mouth wide to take in as much as he could.
Charles braced himself with one hand, looking down to watch his cock disappear into Pickles's mouth over and over again. It wasn't a sight he could ever get tired of, but he needed a little more than Pickles's showy moves. He grabbed a handful of dreadlocks, using them as a handle to move Pickles's mouth faster up and down on his cock. Pickles didn't fight him for it, relaxing into it, letting Charles fuck his mouth how he wanted. That just spurred him on, Pickles's acquiescence, the way he gave it up for Charles and nobody else. He could fuck all the groupies he wanted, and not one- not one of them would get him like this.
Just because Charles knew it didn't mean he didn't like proving it now and then.
He drew it out as long as he could, thrusting up into Pickles's mouth, making him take it as deep and hard as he could, until he was all but choking on it, tears coming from the corners of his eyes. Charles could only take so much; he thrust hard and came, not letting Pickles move until he had swallowed every single drop.
He pulled Pickles off him by his dreads, tilting his face up so he had to look Charles in the face. Pickles looked like the best kind of wreck, his lips swollen and shiny, the tiniest bit of come still showing at the corner of his mouth. Charles swiped it off with his thumb, pressing it into Pickles's mouth. "You don't have to act out to get my attention," Charles said softly, clearly catching him off-guard. "You already have it."
Pickles gulped. "Yeah," he said hoarsely, "I kind of do."
Charles frowned. "You kind of have my attention, or you kind of have to act out?"
He shrugged. "Yeah."
Charles tugged on the leash, pulling Pickles up into his lap. He kissed him gently, his hand on the side of Pickles's face, trying to say what Pickles just wouldn't accept in words.
He pulled on the lead, hard enough to get Pickles's attention. "If I catch you with any more groupies, I'll put you over my knee."
Pickles grinned. "Really?"
"Let's try that again," Charles said. "If I catch you with any more groupies, I won't put you over my knee."
He whistled. "That's serious, right there."
"I'm a serious man," Charles said.
"Right now, I'd prefer a naked man," Pickles said, pawing at Charles's tie.
Charles slipped out of his jacket. "I think that can be arranged."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/292745.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Charles isn't having it.
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Word Count: 1057
Rating/Contents: NC-17, D/s, jealousy
Pairing: Charles/Pickles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: I am breaking my no-porn-at-work rule for you, internet.
Nathan knew something was wrong, even if he couldn't put his finger on it.
He looked around the living room, taking stock of his bandmates. Skwisgaar: making eyes with a lady who couldn't be a day under seventy. Toki: having an animated conversation about rabbits or some shit with a girl who was clearly tweaking. Murderface: already rejected by the groupies, in the corner playing video games.and swearing a lot. All that seemed pretty normal.
Pickles: sitting on the couch, a very pretty girl on his lap, giggling with her a lot.
Less normal, somehow, and it bothered the shit out of Nathan that he couldn't figure out why.
Nathan instinctively tensed up when Charles entered the room; Charles had watched him do everything up to and including snorting coke off the back of a live alligator, but Nathan still got that teacher-just-walked-in feeling every time he saw him.
Charles scanned the room; Nathan almost felt like telling him something was off, but that was too close to caring for his tastes. Charles seemed to know, anyway, because his eye kept doing that twitching thing.
"Pickles," Charles snapped. "If you wouldn't mind coming with me."
Pickles winked at the girl on his lap, kissing her on the cheek before she stood up. "See ya later, Maddy."
"I haves a seat for you," Skwisgaar said invitingly, and she giggled her way on over to his entourage as Charles and Pickles left the room.
Nathan went back to his beer. Definitely not his problem. Seemed better already, anyway.
--
Charles opened the door to his bedroom; he allowed Pickles to step inside before he closed the door, rather more firmly than was strictly necessary.
Pickles was smart enough to drop to his knees without any prompting. Charles went to the chest in the closet, pulling out what he needed. He walked back in front of Pickles, dropping the collar and lead unceremoniously on the floor. "Put them on or get out."
He turned away, listening to the sound of the leather and metal as Pickles did as he ordered. When he turned back, Pickles was waiting, the leash in his mouth; his eyes were downcast, but he was grinning around the leather, like things were going exactly to his plan. Charles frowned, taking the leash from him and wrapping it tightly around his hand. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
"No," Pickles said, taunting him. "Knew you would. S'why I did it."
Charles yanked sharply on the leash, knocking him off balance. "You're treading a very fine line."
"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it?"
He leaned down, getting right into Pickles's face. "You're mine," he barked. "If you're not careful, I'll beat the idea into you." He smirked in satisfaction as Pickles shivered. "Now," he said, straightening, "just this once, I'll allow you to make it up to me."
Pickles swallowed. "Whatever you want."
"Exactly," Charles said. He walked to the bed, tugging at the lead so that Pickles was forced to crawl behind him. He sat, spreading his legs and pulling Pickles up so they were face to face. "Suck me. Make it good."
Pickles winked at him, reaching for his zipper. "I always give you the best."
"You'd better," Charles warned, his breath hitching as Pickles wrapped a hand around his cock. Pickles only teased him for a moment, flicking his tongue against the head while he looked up into Charles's eyes; he smiled at Charles's stern expression, opening his mouth wide to take in as much as he could.
Charles braced himself with one hand, looking down to watch his cock disappear into Pickles's mouth over and over again. It wasn't a sight he could ever get tired of, but he needed a little more than Pickles's showy moves. He grabbed a handful of dreadlocks, using them as a handle to move Pickles's mouth faster up and down on his cock. Pickles didn't fight him for it, relaxing into it, letting Charles fuck his mouth how he wanted. That just spurred him on, Pickles's acquiescence, the way he gave it up for Charles and nobody else. He could fuck all the groupies he wanted, and not one- not one of them would get him like this.
Just because Charles knew it didn't mean he didn't like proving it now and then.
He drew it out as long as he could, thrusting up into Pickles's mouth, making him take it as deep and hard as he could, until he was all but choking on it, tears coming from the corners of his eyes. Charles could only take so much; he thrust hard and came, not letting Pickles move until he had swallowed every single drop.
He pulled Pickles off him by his dreads, tilting his face up so he had to look Charles in the face. Pickles looked like the best kind of wreck, his lips swollen and shiny, the tiniest bit of come still showing at the corner of his mouth. Charles swiped it off with his thumb, pressing it into Pickles's mouth. "You don't have to act out to get my attention," Charles said softly, clearly catching him off-guard. "You already have it."
Pickles gulped. "Yeah," he said hoarsely, "I kind of do."
Charles frowned. "You kind of have my attention, or you kind of have to act out?"
He shrugged. "Yeah."
Charles tugged on the leash, pulling Pickles up into his lap. He kissed him gently, his hand on the side of Pickles's face, trying to say what Pickles just wouldn't accept in words.
He pulled on the lead, hard enough to get Pickles's attention. "If I catch you with any more groupies, I'll put you over my knee."
Pickles grinned. "Really?"
"Let's try that again," Charles said. "If I catch you with any more groupies, I won't put you over my knee."
He whistled. "That's serious, right there."
"I'm a serious man," Charles said.
"Right now, I'd prefer a naked man," Pickles said, pawing at Charles's tie.
Charles slipped out of his jacket. "I think that can be arranged."
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/292745.html.
comments over there.