abelvalentine (abelvalentine) wrote in dethslash, @ 2009-05-22 03:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic-abelvalentine, fic-nathan/toki, fic-skwisgaar/charles |
DethSorrow, Chapter 5
Title: DethSorrow, Chapter Five
Author: AbelValentine
Rating: NC-17, as usual. XD
Summary: More quality Skwis/Ofdensen time, plus some clingy Toki. C/S, C/P, N/T
Disclaimer: Never have, never will own these guys.
Taking Dethklok to a fancy restaurant was like taking a time bomb to the Grand Canyon; all Ofdensen had to do was count the seconds and wait for the destruction to begin. In a matter of hours, empty wine bottles would most likely scatter the table and the waiting staff would be horribly offended for one reason or a hundred. But so far, they seemed tame enough and it was really all Charles could ask for.
Toki sat next to Nathan and Murderface, but his chair moved closer to the singer’s. Nathan either didn’t mind or didn’t notice, as when he did brave a glance at Toki it was usually when no one was looking. Charles was awkwardly placed in between Pickles and Skwisgaar; he’d sat by his lover, of course, but the Swede had insisted he be on the other side, bugging the manager about the wine menu to draw attention to himself. He didn’t necessarily seem rabidly jealous, but the blonde had become accustomed to all people—outside of the band—at all times giving him what he wanted. The fact that Charles kept leaning over to speak to the drummer frustrated him.
Murderface crossed his arms and looked around.
“What a bunch of schtuffy weirdosch in here,” he commented, a grimace on his face.
“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, “totally, yeah…stuffy weirdos.”
“Yeah, stuffys, yeah,” Toki nodded.
Pickles rolled his eyes, not wanting Charles to get offended.
“Hey, it’s nice, ya know? Quit yet bitchin’, this place has greet food.”
“Ja, its does,” Skwisgaar agreed, also speaking up for Charles, who simply sighed. “Sos…you threes justs shuts up.”
Pickles raised an eyebrow at the Swede; he’d been acting so goddamn weird the past few days.
“Hey, don’t tell usch to schut up!”
“Yeah!” Toki echoed.
“Toki, schut up,” William whispered and Toki hit him in the arm. “Ow!”
Oh great, Charles thought, it has begun. So much for a nice dinner.
But Murderface seemed to let it go quickly enough and their appetizers had finally arrived. Nathan spent much of the meal asking Charles about what this, or that was, either on the menu or on his plate; everything was in French. He’d had to order for them, but was slightly delighted when Skwisgaar ordered for himself—his French was wonderful.
“Skwisgaar, I…didn’t know you spoke French,” Charles leaned over to him, speaking softly, impressed. Everyone else was distracted.
Except Pickles, who watched the two with interest.
Skwisgaar happily leaned in, nodding.
“Ja, I learns it in schools, den goes der so many times. I knows lots of languages.”
Charles didn’t know if he was just bragging or if it was true, but he decided that it would be the topic of their next discussion, if this “friend” thing really was going to work.
Toki was watching all the commotion, but rarely participating other than the occasional verbal affirmation. About halfway through the meal, he looked over at Nathan purposefully. While Murderface was in a heated argument with Pickles about a band, Nathan looked back.
A little surprised by his sudden attention, Toki swallowed hard. But he stared into Nathan’s eyes, with his own large, light blue ones, and his lips parted slightly. Nathan didn’t understand why he couldn’t look away, but there was something about the way that the younger man was looking at him…he couldn’t decide whether it was lust, or adoration, or maybe a mix of the two. Or perhaps some emotion that Nathan couldn’t comprehend, or read.
“Nathans?”
Nathan finally ripped his eyes off of Toki to turn and see that the whole table was looking at them. Skwisgaar had an eyebrow raised, having been saying his name for some time now. Toki blushed deeply, damning them slightly, and hid his face in his hair.
“What?”
Pickles chuckled.
As the night continued, it seemed that Murderface and Pickles were the only two that were getting quite plastered. Charles, though he’d feared this would happen, had higher hopes and felt disappointed; he’d at least wanted the drummer to be able to perform later, in a more intimate setting. So much for that.
Skwisgaar whispered to the manager.
“Oh mans, dese guys is DRUNKS!”
Charles nodded, not taking his eyes off Pickles, who was now talking to the waitress about how he might go about getting some blow around here. Before the night went from bad to worse, the manager decided it was time to pay the bill.
Nathan helped Murderface out, while Pickles leaned on Skwisgaar—much to his dismay. He didn’t want to be somebody’s escort, especially if he was the sober one. He wore a deep frown and Pickles yapped away all the way to the car. Finally, he turned to Skwisgaar and whispered, slurring heavily.
“Lissten, awright? LIsssten, jess’…fuckin…tell Charless dat I love ‘im, mmkay? And…Ah’m sssorry.”
He should’ve been grateful that this came out to the one member who knew about their affair, instead of someone like Murderface. Skwisgaar sighed.
“Ja, ja, just…gets ins de car.”
Back at Mordhaus, Skwisgaar helped bring the drunken ones in and then followed Charles down the hallway, where he was headed to his attached apartment.
“Sos, um…wheres you goinks now?”
He had his hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor. Charles looked at him carefully; he certainly was in the mood for company…but not necessarily the platonic kind. Still, he figured it’d be best not to be alone.
“Home. Would you like to come? I could maybe find us a nice dessert wine.”
Skwisgaar’s smile lit up the hallway.
“Ja, let’s dos dat.”
Nathan and Toki were the only ones left in the living room, sitting on the couch. It seemed that the other were either gone, or going somewhere else—the singer didn’t think too hard on Skwisgaar’s absence.
The two men sat on opposite sides of the couch, awkwardly. It was Toki who broke the silence.
“Nathans, if yous…don’ts wants me around no more, I’s won’ts…bodders you.”
The singer looked over at Toki, to realize that the younger man was already looking back at him. He looked sad and slightly lost—much the way he did when they first returned from Norway, though not quite as depressed.
“Toki,” Nathan began, sighing slightly, giving in, “No, I…don’t want you to go away.”
And it was true. Toki, as a companion, while a little confusing at times, was kind of reassuring. It may not have been very metal, but Nathan quite liked having a little pal to follow him around and hang on his every word and move.
“Goods.” Toki beamed. How could he just switch it on like that, so easily? His fragile emotional state seemed to rely on Nathan’s acceptance.
“But listen,” Nathan warned, his voice still soft, “no more gay shit, okay? I mean…ya know…with me.”
Toki nodded and put up his hand, as if to swear.
“I promises nots to.”
Nathan nodded once.
“Let’s go to bed.”
Toki grinned, bouncing up, following Nathan back to his room. The singer didn’t protest and the Norwegian was all too delighted that he’d meant to take the younger man with him. In a few minutes, the door was shut (and securely locked) and they lay in Nathan’s bed warmly.
“Nathans?”
“Hm?” The singer didn’t necessarily feel like having a conversation, but figured he’d humor Toki.
“Whats was…so bads abouts what we dids?” He looked over at him, both men lying on their backs, six inches apart.
Nathan closed his eyes momentarily, then blinked up at the ceiling. Why the fuck did they have to go through this again?
“Because, Toki, it was gay.”
“Ja, buts…whys dats so bad?”
Toki sounded honestly curious. With his parents’ screwed up and holistic morality, he’d never thought to bring it up to them. But he’d never felt wrong, just different. He knew that the other guys used the words “gay” and “fag” as bad terms, but when it came down to it…it was fine.
“Well…uhh…” Nathan searched hard in his brain, wanting to come out of this discussion on top, “because it’s…you know…you just need to…hm. Sleeping with women is metal, that’s all.”
“Sleepins wid boys isn’ts metal?”
“No.” That he was sure of. “Definitely not.”
“Oh, wowee. I guess I’s nots as metal as yous are.”
Nathan looked over at him to see if he was being sarcastic; but Toki had quite the innocent look on his face. He didn’t want to make Toki feel bad about being gay, he just wanted to stress that he should keep it to himself.
“You knows,” Toki went on, his voice quiet, “Skwisgaar seems to thinks is okays.”
Nathan widened his eyes.
“Skwisgaar knows?!”
“Ja, I tells him.” He said this quite matter-of-factly.
Jesus. Skwisgaar also told Toki that “friendly jack-offs” were acceptable. No wonder.
“Well…what did he say?”
He was honestly curious. Maybe it might be easier for him to feel better about it if his lead guitarist thought it was fine.
“Wells, ja, he says…dats he thinks secks-you-alities is confusinks. And dats you shoulds do whats make you happy. Because everythings feels good.”
Nathan pretty much knew that Skwisgaar was at least bisexual—or that he preferred both men and women in his bed sometimes. But Skwisgaar was ALWAYS on top, so it seemed less offensive. Toki seemed…more like a bottom.
“Skwisgaar…is screwed up sexually,” Nathan muttered, “he’d do anything, Toki.”
“Buts-!” Toki didn’t want that to ruin his defense. “He didn’ts says was nots metal!”
Nathan sighed and shook his head, truly frustrated now.
“I don’t fucking know, Toki, I’m not an expert at gay…ness.”
Toki fell silent and Nathan followed. It was just too fucking much; he didn’t want to talk anymore. The Norwegian shifted a few times, trying to get comfortable. He whimpered slightly.
“What’s wrong now?!”
“I can’ts gets comferts-tables!”
“Well, do it and then stay still!”
Fine. If Nathan wanted him to be still and comfortable, he would be. He moved quite quickly, but before the singer could pull away, Toki’d wrapped his arms around the man’s torso and laid his head on his chest.
“…fine. Go to sleep.”
Toki smiled and sighed, that tiny little noise escaping again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charles led Skwisgaar back to his very elegantly furnished apartment—it was more like an expensive New York loft, which the Swede thought suited the manager.
“Wow, dis is nice,” the blonde commented as they walked in and Charles set down his keys.
“Yes, thank you.”
He moved to shut and lock the door as Skwisgaar strolled to the large balcony door, looking out through the glass. A thought suddenly crossed his mind. This should’ve been a normal night—it should’ve ended with the Swede getting laid, bringing a random waitress from the restaurant back to his room.
But instead he was here—with his manager. It was almost funny.
“Hey, cans we turns on somes music? I wants to know whats yous got in here…”
He moved to the expensive stereo by the flat screen TV in the corner of the room. Charles simply laughed, pulling out a bottle of wine from the cupboard in the kitchen.
“Fine,” he called to the younger man, “but you won’t like what’s in there.”
Skwisgaar fiddled with the remote, getting the stereo to play Disc 1. After a few seconds, the jazzy, smooth sound of Michael Bublè filled the room, singing one of Sinatra’s oldies.
Charles returned to the room, two glasses of a rich, red wine in his hands. He smiled.
“I told you.”
Skwisgaar kind of laughed, turning the volume down slightly. He took a glass and took a seat on the manager’s leather couch.
“It suits yous,” Skwisgaar admitted, “I didn’ts expects death metals.”
“No, no,” Charles laughed, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, “I get enough of that at work.”
Skwisgaar took a sip of his wine and nodded.
“Oo, dis is goods.”
“Skwisgaar…” Charles began, running his finger around the rim of his glass, not drinking yet.
“Ja?” He looked up.
“Thank you…for coming here. I know that you probably have much better things you could be doing.”
The Swede looked honestly surprised. Those had been his thoughts not moments ago. But he was still here, wasn’t he?
“Nots a problems,” he said earnestly, nodding.
“Now, you said you can…speak many different languages?”
“Oh, ja!”
Skwisgaar entertained the manager for the next hour, demonstrating his skills as a polyglot. Charles was delighted that he hadn’t made it up and laughed as the Swede would say whatever the manager wanted in whatever language he chose. In reality, Skwisgaar was only truly fluent in about three or four, but dabbled in a number of them.
“I likes it whens you laugh,” Skwisgaar admitted, after he’d displayed his German skills.
Charles’ face relaxed—he had been laughing quite hard, the wine allowing him to let go slightly. Enough at least to let the slightly sexual way Skwisgaar had said that slip by, unnoticed.
“Thank you.”
“You don’ts smiles enough. Yous are always frownink.” It was true. And the manager was damn sexy when he laughed like that, his eyes getting all narrow, letting his head fall back slightly...
Charles sighed, pouring himself another glass, figuring what the hell.
“Well, I don’t think, to be fair, that I’m provided with many opportunities.”
Skwisgaar tilted his head slightly, a small smile on his lips.
“Pickles doesn’ts makes you smile?”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t see him much during the day. Just at night, when-…”
He stopped, covering his mouth slightly, almost delicately, with his fingers. He’d never looked so gay and Skwisgaar burst into laughter.
“You twos just fucks! Is nots a relations-kips!”
“It is, too!”
Charles felt quite offended, but too buzzed to be truly angry.
“Well…I’s will tries to makes you smiles more, ah? I’s promise.”
Charles shifted a bit, feeling quite uncomfortable with how Skwisgaar was looking at him.
“It’s getting late,” was he all he could think to say.
“Ja.” He looked at the clock, then back at the manager. “I’s will lets you gets tos bed if you wants…”
Charles shook his head, but didn’t mean to seem so eager. Skwisgaar smiled.
“Okays, I stays den. But onlys if yous promise dats we go drives again soon.”
Charles nodded.
“Yes, you…need quite a few more lessons before you take your test.”
“Heys!”
It was Charles’ turn to laugh at the Swede’s reaction.
After another hour and another wine bottle drained, Charles was feeling impossibly drunk. How had he let this happen? Skwisgaar held his liquor—especially something like wine—much better and hardly seemed tipsy.
But the Swede was feeling it: enough to feel his judgment being affected. Charles stood up, but almost fell over, catching himself on the back of the couch.
“…have to…go to bed…” he managed to whisper, the room spinning.
Skwisgaar chuckled.
“Comes on, I’s helps you.”
He led Charles to his bedroom after finally finding it down the hallway. He pulled the older man into the dark room and removed his jacket, tossing it on the floor.
“Hey…s’my good jacket…” Charles stammered, but didn’t move to pick it up.
“Yous needs to loosens up. I buys you a news jacket. Yous are drunks, who cares?”
He began to unbutton the older man’s shirt, but Charles knocked his hands away lazily.
“Can’t…no, s-stop…”
“Pfft, I’s nots goings to rapes you.”
Skwisgaar removed the man’s shirt without resistance this time, revealing a white undershirt. The Swede could see the other man’s nicely toned body through his tight shirt and indulged a moment, running his hand up Charles’ stomach and chest.
“Mmm…”
The blonde smiled; he couldn’t believe he was just able to coax a slight moan out of the manager. He reached down, still watching Charles’ face as he undid his belt.
“S-Skwisgaar….”
He wasn’t sure why Charles had said his name. It was barely a whisper and maybe didn’t mean anything; but it was hard not to let it get to him. He wished so badly, at that moment, that the manager could moan his name again…over and over…
“Yes?” Skwisgaar asked, wanting to get the manager talking, to see what he’d say.
“Don’t…take advantage…Pickless, he…”
The Swede snorted.
“Pickles isn’ts here. I don’t thinks he’d likes me beings here at alls, anyways.”
“Probly right,” Charles muttered, letting the Swede remove his pants, now just in his underwear and undershirt.
Skwisgaar moved him towards the bed and let him lie down. He covered him up and then lay beside him, feeling too tired and buzzed to try and find his way back to his own room. He wasn’t even sure if he could without getting lost.
“Skwisgaar?”
“…ja?”
Charles wanted to tell him to stay. He wanted to ask him not to leave. But he couldn’t even force his mind to make him speak and so he chose the next best thing; he turned over, lying on the Swede’s long and slender chest. Skwisgaar sighed and wrapped his arm securely around the manager.
“I’s nots goinks anywhere.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Waking up with Toki in his arms wasn’t something Nathan planned to do each morning; but despite his plans, it kept happening. And during the day, the Norwegian would usually be within a few feet of the singer, at least. They just always seemed to be together.
A week after their dinner at Scarpetta, they were all sitting in the hot tub, the evening news on the TV. Toki was watching Nathan play Half-Life on his laptop, randomly commenting. Pickles was indulging in a Margarita while Murderface snored loudly beside him, his arms crossed and head back against the rim of the tub.
Skwisgaar was playing his guitar idly, his eyes fixated on the TV in a daze.
“Oo, is da G-mans!” Toki exclaimed, watching the computer screen. “Don’ts shoots dats guy, Nathans, he-…LOOKS OUT! Oh, wowee, I thoughts you was dead!”
“I know, look at that- BAM! I killed that mother fucker,” Nathan laughed, almost as into the game as his seemingly new best friend was.
Pickles raised his eyebrow and nudged Skwisgaar, who jerked to life.
“Ah, ja?” The Swede inquired.
The drummer motioned to Nathan and Toki who, now being so encapsulated in the game, were centimeters apart, an equal look of interest in their faces as they both stared at the laptop. Toki had his hand resting lightly on Nathan’s arm. And the singer wasn’t pushing him away, or telling him to fuck off…THIS was interesting…
“Hey Nathans and Tokis, why don’ts you justs…gets a room, ah?” The blonde snickered with Pickles.
“Yee-uh, why dontcha jes’ go make out’r somethin’.”
Skwisgaar burst into laughter.
Toki’s face went bright red and it was as if he just noticed where his hand was placed—because he yanked it away so quickly that he hit himself in the chest with it. Nathan looked up, his teeth clenched. He set his laptop on the rim of the hot tub behind him and scowled at the two accusers.
“You fucking dicks got somethin’ to say?”
Neither Pickles nor Skwisgaar wanted the gigantic singer coming after them, but Pickles did feel it necessary to bring up the subject…
“You two have been spendin’ a LAT of time together, dat’s all…” He sipped his drink, shrugging.
Skwisgaar decided to jump on that train.
“Ja, is like…you twos are de, uh…dats…”He furrowed his brow, trying to think of the right word. “You know, wheres de…one guy is attached to his brothers, or whatsever…”
“Siamese twins?” Pickles offered and Skwisgaar perked up.
“Ja! Dats! Whats de hell, Nathans?”
He was specifically speaking to the singer, because as far as he was concerned, Toki was strange enough to get away with any behavior. Especially the type that proved his gayness…and particularly, his newfound fondness for Nathan. Skwisgaar did give Toki a meaningful look, which the younger man avoided.
“We’re just…hanging out, so what?” Nathan was trying to relax his body.
“Yee-uh, but…why?” Pickles raised his eyebrows. “Toki’s been trailin’ ya like a dag.”
“Ja, likes a littles dog.” The lead guitarist nodded.
“I’s nots a dog!” Toki yelled and Murderface woke with a start.
“What are you guysch yelling about, I’m tryin’ to SCHLEEP over here!”
Toki looked at him, clueing him in…damning he and Nathan to Dethklok hell, as he pointed a reproving finger at Pickles and Skwisgaar.
“Dese guys thinks that justs because Nathans and I sleeps togedders dats we ams beins weird and spendins too much times togedder!”
Everyone fell silent. Even Murderface had nothing to say and he shared the same shocked, drop-jawed look that Skwisgaar and Pickles did. Nathan eyed Toki furiously, who sank down into the water, up to his chin, in regret, his face red.
“H-He...he doesn’t fucking mean it like that!” Nathan decided he just had to try and save his soul. “I’ve been letting him sleep in my bed—but nothing funny!” His voice was oddly high.
“Ja, but dats…prettys gay,” Skwisgaar commented and Pickles nodded, who really didn’t have the right to call someone else gay for anything.
Nathan grimaced and pointed at the Swede.
“Whatever! I saw you leave with the manager the other night and you didn’t come back! So obviously you slept there. Maybe you fucked him!”
Skwisgaar knew he was fucked in a lot of ways at the moment. He saw Pickles, out of the corner of his eye, turn and look at him slowly, his eyes furiously wide, his jaw clenched. But the blonde didn’t dare look at him. And furthermore, how could he really explain why he was spending time with Charles? He didn’t even know, himself. Toki rose out of the water, though, to add another pair of eyes on him.
“Fucks you, we was justs talkinks! He gots drunks and I’s helps him to beds—sos whats?!”
“Charlie gat drunk?!” Pickles could hardly hide his rage. Little did he realize he’d slipped up, too. Surprisingly enough, it was Toki who caught on.
“Why you calls him dat?” Toki asked, his brow creasing in curiosity.
Everyone just stopped. They all glared at each other, for different reasons, until Murderface rose, feeling particularly uninterested and annoyed with all the drama.
“I’m goin’ to bed, you guysch are crazchy.” And with that, he was gone.
Nathan looked between all three of the other men remaining before getting out, too.
“Fuck this, I don’t need to explain anything to you guys. I’m going to bed.”
He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around him and took off down the hallway to his bedroom. Toki widened his eyes; he didn’t want to stay and fight and he also didn’t want Nathan to lock him out of his room. So he jumped out, not caring what impression he gave the others as he followed the singer.
“Hey, waits for me!”
Skwisgaar and Pickles remained. The blonde was turned away from the drummer, but he could feel his eyes on him. He tried, for a minute, to ignore the redhead and watch some more TV. But it was useless. After a few minutes, he set his guitar gingerly on the floor outside the hot tub and turned to Pickles.
It was odd, being there: and not just because they were both naked and in closer proximity than normal. It was weird because Skwisgaar seemed to feel a sort of hidden animosity for the drummer that had surfaced as of late. It showed up whenever he thought of Charles and he felt quite defensive of the manager. He was too arrogant to remind himself that he wasn’t Charles’ knight in shining armor.
“Pickle, I knows abouts you and Ofdensens,” Skwisgaar admitted, unnecessarily.
“Yee-uh, I know.” Pickles’ usual easy-going tone was replaced with a harsh one as he crossed his arms.
“Listens, we didn’ts fucks, okay? I tolds you.”
The drummer narrowed his eyes.
“I know that, too, cuz Charlie wouldn’t cheat an me. Especially wit someone like you.”
Skwisgaar felt that was a little below the belt. He clenched his fists and narrowed his own eyes right back at his older band mate.
“Oh ja? Well, he deserves someones bedder dans you. Yous just sleeps wid him.”
“That’s nat true. ‘Asides, it’s nunna yer business,” he stated plainly.
“I’s just his friends—he asks mes to be!”
It was true. Skwisgaar wasn’t sure how to be a friend, exactly, but he figured that not taking advantage of a very drunk person and helping them to bed was a pretty good start.
“Yee-uh, well…he doesn’t need a friend, so jes’…leave ‘im alone.”
“I’s nots goink to stops seeinks him…”
They stared at each other, their eyes narrowed into such small slits that it may have looked to an outsider as if they were closing their eyes. Finally, Pickles drew back and sighed.
“Fine…ya can hang wit him when AH’M not wit him. Ah’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even go for ya, anyway.” He’d seen that hit a nerve in Skwisgaar before, so he wanted to say it again. It seemed true enough to him, anyway.
“Whatsever,” Skwisgaar leaned back, feigning relaxation, “He’s just teachinks me to drive anyways. Yous is so paranoids, I don’ts gos for old guys.”
Pickles was silent, but he nodded slightly. That was true. But it was also true that Skwisgaar liked what he couldn’t have…so the drummer would just have to keep an eye out. And so he secretly made a vow to.
“Jes’…do me a favor ‘n don’t tell anyone, awright?” His face was softer now.
Skwisgaar nodded.
“Ja, I wouldn’t wants anyones to know I’s gay eider. If I’s was. Which I’s nots.”
Pickles rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, man.”
He set his drink down and got out of the hot tub, going to get a towel. Skwisgaar didn’t watch him go, but heard his feet on the stone and then there was silence. It was more than frustrating; he had planned to go see the manager when the others went to bed, just to check up on his hangover. But now he was most certain that Pickles would get there first…
He didn’t want Charles to feel like he had squealed on purpose. Nathan had caught him leaving with the manager, it wasn’t his fault! But he decided to wait until morning. It had been too hard, last night, lying in bed next to someone and not fucking them…especially when he thought about it so much. He needed to get out this sexual frustration, because to Skwisgaar, two days of celibacy felt like a decade. So he decided on some good, old fashioned slut-hunting.
Meanwhile, Nathan had allowed Toki to follow him, though thoroughly perturbed at him. He let the younger man in, who seemed to have his tail between his legs, and then shut and locked the door. He turned around, the light still on, with a mind to scold the Norwegian. But just as he did, Toki was slipping his towel off and crawling into bed…naked.
Nathan got an eyeful and his eyes widened. He remained silent.
“Nathans…” Toki’s voice was soft, pleading even. He sat up in bed, pulling the comforter to him to cover himself up. He looked Nathan sheepishly. “I’s ams real sorry…”
The singer could tell that he meant it. Damn Toki, there was no way to keep him from being himself; defensive and juvenile and emotional and quirky.
“I told you-“ Nathan began, but just sighed. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”
He flipped off the light. Nathan didn’t normally sleep in any clothes, but had donned boxers as acceptable pajamas ever since Toki began sleeping next to him. But since Toki wasn’t bothering with any clothes, he figured he wouldn’t either.
As he lay down beside the younger man, he realized; this really didn’t help his case against Skwisgaar and Pickles’ accusations—lying naked next to a similarly nude and outed Toki.
“I just didn’ts wants dose guys to make funs of us…” Toki whispered helpfully.
“I don’t give a damn what they think,” Nathan lied, turning his back to the guitarist.
There was silence for a while and Toki thought Nathan had drifted until he finally spoke up again.
“Toki…you said before that you…ya know…”
“Whats?” Toki was clutching Deddy Bear, whose permanent home was now Nathan’s bed. Having the singer and Deddy to sleep with at night was like a fortress of protection.
“Well, done stuff with guys…when you were younger.”
“Ja, ands whens I’s older, too.”
“…how old? Like…now?”
Toki stalled and he sounded pretty nervous.
“Sometimes dere is…you know, guys backstage, or whens wes on tour…”
Nathan couldn’t hide his shock; the thought of Toki getting action from male fans and hiding it from the rest of the band was…weird.
“Ohs, ands Skwisgaar.”
What.
What?!
“Wait, WHAT?!”
Nathan practically bellowed. He flipped over, fast enough to frighten Toki into backing up against the headboard.
“Was justs one times! I-I was curious a-ands he’s tells me dats he coulds helps!”
What a fucking hypocrite Skwisgaar was.
“Let me fucking get this straight,” Nathan’s voice was hard to read, but he looked more than troubled, “You’ve been fucking guys this whole time without us knowing and you fucked Skwisgaar?”
“Nos! No, I don’ts fucks dem! And I didn’ts fucks Skwisgaar neither!”
He shook his head fervently and reached out, wrapping his hands around Nathan’s forearms as if to emphasize his point…though it seemed quite like a possibly cheating lover denying false charges.
The thought of Toki and Skwisgaar together was…unsettling to Nathan. Upsetting even. And he didn’t know why—and that was even worse.
“So you just what, fool around or some shit?” His voice was still accusatory.
“W-Well…sometimes, da fans, dey…ya know, wants to touch me, or blows me…and I’s lets dem. Sometimes. Nots as oftens as YOUS do with da goils!” Now he sounded equally angry.
“What?! I don’t fuck nearly as many groupies as I used t-…wait, why does it even fucking matter?! Tell me what happened with Skwisgaar,” he demanded.
Toki sighed, still holding onto Nathan…realizing that they were dangerously close to each other, their faces inches apart. His voice was softer now.
“I tells Skwisgaar I thinks I mights be gay and he…tells me I cans…experinmates withs him.”
“Experiment,” Nathan corrected instinctively and then shook his head, dropping his gaze. “God, everyone is gay around here…”
“Nots everyones! ‘Sides, Skwisgaar nots gay. Neidder is Pickle, or Moidaface,” he nodded encouragingly, hoping that this might help. “Justs me.”
Experiment, huh? Nathan thought. Maybe the “friendly jack off” thing wasn’t so bad, then…
“I’m sorry, Toki,” his voice was quite soft now, “You can do whatever you want.”
Toki bit his lip. Nathan shouldn’t have given him such freedom…because he leaned forward, catching the singer’s lips in a passionate, hard kiss.
Nathan’s first instinct was to pull back, punch hard and ask questions later. But for some reason, his body tensed and he stayed still. He didn’t kiss back, necessarily, and he kept his eyes open—wide—but he remained where he was.
Toki put his hands on either side of the singer’s face softly; he thought that if he put as much of himself into the kiss as he could, then Nathan might be inclined to kiss back.
Nathan was about ready to pull away…until he felt that same feeling he’d felt the night Toki had touched him; it was a rush of sensory emotions that outweighed any rational thought whatsoever. Toki’s hair falling around their faces as the guitarist pressed more deeply into the kiss; Toki’s hands on his face; Toki’s smell…it was all too much.
After almost thirty seconds of hesitation, Toki felt Nathan’s lips begin to move slowly, kissing him back. His stomach did a flip and he more than enthusiastically kept up the difficult work.
The kissing grew slightly more heated and Toki slowly removed the covers from his body, revealing it once again. Nathan’s lap remained covered, but that didn’t keep Toki from crawling into it and straddling him. He pulled away slightly to swing his hair to one side, leaning down once more to lock lips with the singer.
Nathan was gone; his mind was barely present. In order to deal, it seemed, he just gave into what his body wanted to do. And right now…his body wanted Toki. It wanted Toki in the worst way.
Realizing this and throwing his inhibitions to the wind, Nathan placed both of his strong hands on the guitarist’s hips. He rubbed softly, then harder and Toki moaned at the slight aggression. He liked and encouraged it, his own, exposed cock responding to the sensation.
Nathan had had enough of Toki being in control and so he flipped him over rapidly, having the Norwegian on his back in less than a second. Toki giggled slightly and wrapped his arms around the singer’s neck as he was kissed again.
There was still a blanket between them, but that didn’t stop Toki from feeling how hard Nathan had gotten. He gasped slightly against the older man’s lips when he felt Nathan’s cock brush his own through the fabric.
“Fuck, Toki,” Nathan whispered, his voice rather breathy.
Toki felt his whole body flush as he heard his name escape Nathan’s lips. He’d thought that he’d never hear it again after the first time…but it was even better now, even more needy.
“Nathans,” he whimpered, “cans I’s…touch yous again?”
Fuck.
Something was so hot about the way Toki asked for permission. It gave Nathan the exact ego boost that he loved during sex; needless to say, he got off on domination.
He nodded and moved his kisses to Toki’s neck and ear, wanting to be buried in his hair. The Norwegian reached down with his hand eagerly to wrap it around the singer’s bare cock. He bit his lip; he hoped he wouldn’t be left hanging this time, because he was really turned on and very hard himself.
He was rewarded with a very loud moan from the older man and he smiled—he loved making Nathan feel this way…completely lost in the moment. He stroked ardently and watched Nathan’s face with interest. He seemed to be in complete ecstasy, a mix of pain and pleasure in his expression. Toki made a small noise of want and bucked up slightly, needing some friction on his own erection.
Nathan didn’t want it to be unfair and he tried to bring himself back to earth enough to reach down and rub Toki through the blanket. The smaller man moaned—it was all he could ask for, to at least be touched.
He squeezed Nathan’s cock in approval, working him over in the same fashion he had the first time. The kissing didn’t stop; Toki was surprised at how much the singer liked to kiss, even during distracting moments. But of course he didn’t mind, it kept him feeling wanted.
It wasn’t long before Nathan removed the covers completely and wrapped his strong hand around Toki’s naked cock, stroking roughly. Toki cried out, the sudden feeling overwhelming.
“O-Oh! B-Behag, Nathans….Jeg trenger du…a-ahh, ja…”
Toki felt Nathan’s cock twitch heavily when he spoke in his own language and it made him feel sexier…which was great, considering that he didn’t think Nathan was attracted to him at all. After a few more seconds of heavy stroking and squeezing, Toki practically squealed as he released into Nathan’s hand; the noise that came out of the younger man sent Nathan over the edge and he, too, came.
Nathan removed his hand to wipe it on the comforter without thinking, so Toki mimicked him. He wrapped his arms around the singer’s shoulder, breathing heavily. Nathan fell to the guitarist’s side and grunted, feeling spent. Toki giggled slightly, taking his familiar position on the singer’s chest.
“Goodnights, Nathans…” He figured it’d be best to think more on this in the morning, when the older man might actually be willing to talk about it.
“Hm,” he grunted back. “Goodnight.”