Fic: Tomorrow We Die
Title: Tomorrow We Die
Summary: Comparatively speaking, this is detox.
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Word Count: 534
Rating/Contents: NC-17, public sex, missing scene for Dethhealth (3x03)
Pairing: Skwisgaar/Pickles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For a little contest over at capslokdethklok. Because beach sex is necessary.
"This was a great idea, dude," Pickles said, dangling a bottle of vodka over his face, shaking it to see how much was left. Skwisgaar made a noise of assent, content in draping himself over as much of his beach chair as possible.
Pickles tipped the bottle up for the last few mouthfuls, swallowing messily before speaking again. "If I could just get laid a couple dozen more times and get my hands on some angel dust, this would be the perfect vacation."
"You drinks so much it ams a surprise that you coulds even get it up," Skwisgaar said, taking his arm off his face and looking at him. "That is why I don't drink, because the sex ams much more important."
Pickles gave him a look. "I just saw you put down a whole bottle of- what was that, 151?- in like thirty minutes."
"Pfft," Skwisgaar said. "That ams not real drinkings." He rolled over, looking at Pickles and grinning suggestively. "But if you wants to get laid-"
Pickles took a quick look up and down the beach. "Alright, dude, but if we end up on the Dethklok Minute again, you get to explain it to Charles."
Skwisgaar grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him across the gap between their chairs. "Charles will understands." He put his hands on Pickles's ass, grinding against him, the material of their swim trunks sliding slickly together.
"He's totally reasonable and shit," Pickles agreed, leaning in to kiss him. Skwisgaar opened right up for him, letting Pickles slide his tongue into his mouth so Pickles could slowly map it out, exploring every inch. Pickles's fingers found their way into his hair, tangling up in the long strands; he used it to his advantage, pulling just slightly so he could tilt Skwisgaar's head to just the right angle.
Skwisgaar pushed their trunks down, far enoug that their dicks rubbed together with nothing interfering; he wrapped his clever fingers around them for more friction, to make sure Pickles couldn't get away. They thrust lazily against each other, basking in the bright sunlight. It was so much different than doing this in the cold confines of Mordhaus, where everything was freezing stone or literally on fire; the warm sun only added to the heat building between them, its rays touching them everywhere.
Pickles gave in first, moaning into Skwisgaar's mouth, shooting over their stomachs and Skwisgaar's hand. Skwisgaar wasn't far behind him, his hips working as he came, panting. They lay together like that for a long while, sticky and sated, still kissing aimlessly. Skwisgaar finally pulled away, wiping them both clean with a corner of his beach towel.
"You know," Pickles said. "I'm not sure that counts as actually getting laid."
"Well, I guess we has to do it again," Skwisgaar said, standing up.
Pickles caught him by the wrist. "Where d'you think you're goin'?"
"Pickle," Skwisgaar said seriously. "There ams sand out here. Thinks about it."
"Good call, dude," he said, rolling off the chair. "Let's go back to the room. And see if those two girls lookin' at us from that balcony wanna come, too."
They did make the Dethklok Minute.
And no, Charles didn't understand.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/332455.html.
comments over there.
Summary: Comparatively speaking, this is detox.
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Word Count: 534
Rating/Contents: NC-17, public sex, missing scene for Dethhealth (3x03)
Pairing: Skwisgaar/Pickles
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For a little contest over at capslokdethklok. Because beach sex is necessary.
"This was a great idea, dude," Pickles said, dangling a bottle of vodka over his face, shaking it to see how much was left. Skwisgaar made a noise of assent, content in draping himself over as much of his beach chair as possible.
Pickles tipped the bottle up for the last few mouthfuls, swallowing messily before speaking again. "If I could just get laid a couple dozen more times and get my hands on some angel dust, this would be the perfect vacation."
"You drinks so much it ams a surprise that you coulds even get it up," Skwisgaar said, taking his arm off his face and looking at him. "That is why I don't drink, because the sex ams much more important."
Pickles gave him a look. "I just saw you put down a whole bottle of- what was that, 151?- in like thirty minutes."
"Pfft," Skwisgaar said. "That ams not real drinkings." He rolled over, looking at Pickles and grinning suggestively. "But if you wants to get laid-"
Pickles took a quick look up and down the beach. "Alright, dude, but if we end up on the Dethklok Minute again, you get to explain it to Charles."
Skwisgaar grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him across the gap between their chairs. "Charles will understands." He put his hands on Pickles's ass, grinding against him, the material of their swim trunks sliding slickly together.
"He's totally reasonable and shit," Pickles agreed, leaning in to kiss him. Skwisgaar opened right up for him, letting Pickles slide his tongue into his mouth so Pickles could slowly map it out, exploring every inch. Pickles's fingers found their way into his hair, tangling up in the long strands; he used it to his advantage, pulling just slightly so he could tilt Skwisgaar's head to just the right angle.
Skwisgaar pushed their trunks down, far enoug that their dicks rubbed together with nothing interfering; he wrapped his clever fingers around them for more friction, to make sure Pickles couldn't get away. They thrust lazily against each other, basking in the bright sunlight. It was so much different than doing this in the cold confines of Mordhaus, where everything was freezing stone or literally on fire; the warm sun only added to the heat building between them, its rays touching them everywhere.
Pickles gave in first, moaning into Skwisgaar's mouth, shooting over their stomachs and Skwisgaar's hand. Skwisgaar wasn't far behind him, his hips working as he came, panting. They lay together like that for a long while, sticky and sated, still kissing aimlessly. Skwisgaar finally pulled away, wiping them both clean with a corner of his beach towel.
"You know," Pickles said. "I'm not sure that counts as actually getting laid."
"Well, I guess we has to do it again," Skwisgaar said, standing up.
Pickles caught him by the wrist. "Where d'you think you're goin'?"
"Pickle," Skwisgaar said seriously. "There ams sand out here. Thinks about it."
"Good call, dude," he said, rolling off the chair. "Let's go back to the room. And see if those two girls lookin' at us from that balcony wanna come, too."
They did make the Dethklok Minute.
And no, Charles didn't understand.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/332455.html.
comments over there.