Drabbles. I got on a kick and wrote these. Of course I don't own the Metalocalypse universe or characters therein, but I'm borrowing them for my own amusement. Slash. T/S and one-sided N/C. I might add more later, but I'm terrible at updating anything.
Rules.
Skwisgaar followed a short set of rules. They were not all his creation, but they worked. They kept life simple. They were very easy to follow, once.
Toki had been responsible for the breaking of every last one of them.
Rule 1: No caring about band mates.
Rule 2: No braiding of hair. Braids were un-metal.
Rule 3: Do not re-wear clothes. You have money now.
Rule 4: No cuddling. Beds are for screwing and sleeping.
Rule 5: No fucking the same person on multiple occasions.
Rule 6: No getting fucked
Rule 7: There is no such thing as love.
Rule 1: No caring about band mates.
Nathan had created this rule, for the good of the band. If they didn't care, they wouldn't fight. Pickles was proof of caring hurting a band, and Dethklok was not going to go the same way. So, Skwisgaar tormented the Norwegian. He was in charge, he was lead guitar.
But….everyone cared about Toki. He was the most innocent among them. He had little to no experience with drugs or sex or alcohol. Hell, he barely spoke at first.
When he got drunk, he made them all worry. Even Nathan only wanted the best for the brunette.
Skwisgaar was no exception.
Rule 2: No braiding of hair. Braids were un-metal.
Skwisgaar liked his hair as it was: long and blonde and wavy.
The most restraint he would use was a simple ponytail.
That was why he never got drunk enough to get sick. Nothing was more disgusting than vomit in one's hair.
Toki, however, didn't seem to understand this.
Skwisgaar was not about to hold his hair back like the friend of some party girl.
After the young man had vomited for the third time that evening, he had had enough. He sat him down and wove those locks into a single plait.
Toki refused to leave until he matched.
Rule 3: Do not rewear clothes. You have money now.
Because of HER, he had been forced to wear the same thing to school for up to a week.
He never wore the same clothes two days in a row. Not anymore.
He had been drunk. Very drunk.
Charles had called a meeting. His Dethphone had interrupted his sleep, it was urgent.
He had woken up with a bad hangover in a twin bed.
Thankfully, he was fully clothed and had managed to arrive before setting either the manager or lead singer off.
Unfortunately, he was not given the opportunity to return to his room until early the next morning.
Rule 4: No cuddling. Beds were for screwing and sleeping.
This rule had been announced to everyone.
It was in the forms one had to sign to have a private audience.
Even GMILFs were often kicked out as soon as possible.
But Toki had had a nightmare.
He had stumbled in, Deddy Bear in tow, and poked the blonde until his presence was acknowledged.
"Go backs to sleeps…" He had grumbled.
Toki had taken this as a personal invitation, and no argument was raised.
Skwisgaar woke up trapped before dawn, staring the sleeping brunette in the face. Toki was fast asleep, at peace.
He could tolerate this for one night…
Rule 5: No fucking the same person on multiple occasions.
The first time was unplanned, rough, and loud. It was drunken, messy, and vague. If it hadn't been Toki, it would have been all too easy to forget.
Through just enough begging from the brunette, he had been persuaded to do it again. The second time was better. Not as rough, not as forgettable, not entirely unplanned…it was still loud.
But the last time was the best. It was slow, planned, and gentle. He had trapped Toki in bed, and he knew from experience just what to do to make the other guitarist scream his name.
Loud, familiar, and…pretty satisfying.
Rule 6: No getting fucked.
There were many women who had landed in his bed, and a few men.
But he was not his mother. He fucked, and he played guitar.
He was not fucked.
Not one of them had complained. They took whatever they could from him, thankful for the opportunity.
Unfortunately, Toki was not one of them.
He had already broken rule 5, and the brunette seemed happy enough…
Toki had to notice his fear, his reluctance, but he didn't mention it.
His kisses were plentiful, his patience endless.
The sex was far from perfect, but there was something deeper there.
Something…incredibly warm.
Rule 7: There was no such thing as "love".
There was affection. The band was his family.
There was lust. He had MANY people to vouch for this.
But love?
Love was something else…
He couldn't even say he loved himself.
Why did Toki always complicate things?
He held the brunette close, absentmindedly (braiding) doing something to the chocolate hair. He was wearing yesterday's clothes, and didn't even care. He had fucked and been fucked, held and was held.
And as the rhythm guitarist snuggled deeper, his sneer faded and his heart skipped a beat.
He barely recognized his own voice as he whispered, "Maybes I loves you, Tokis…."
He had broken every rule. Every last one. Toki had ruined everything .
Well, maybe not ruined, exactly.
He had disproven the rules. He had taken each and proven it wrong, proven it pointless, or rose beyond it.
Maybe his rules were flawed to begin with. But, if that was so, why did I take so long for each one to fall? Why did it have to be him every single time?
Then again, every band member had already broken the main rule because of him.
They all cared for Toki.
Maybe rules were meant to be broken, after all.
Rules: Charles
Charles only had one rule: Remain professional.
It allowed him a good deal of freedom, while allowing him to keep his job.
It's very hard to remain professional when you are being supplied drugs and alcohol by the world's most popular (powerful) band.
It was even harder when the lead singer had to be so damned tempting.
He had caressed that soft ebony hair, touched those chiseled features.
Even drunk, he had managed to hold onto a fraction of that rule and gone no farther.
Nathan would never know how close the manager had come to breaking his only rule.
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