LARP Is Serious Business
Charles walked into the boardroom, looking around at the five members of Dethklok. Four of them looked just as confused as to why the meeting had been called as he felt. "All right guys, I'm here. Nathan, what was so important that you had to call a band meeting during my monthly conference call with the UN?" They liked to keep tabs on Dethklok after the Israel/Syria concert fiasco.
"This IS important," Nathan insisted, then fell silent for a long moment, his eyes shifting around the room.
Charles waited for Nathan to say something, then sighed, pulling up a chair. Apparently this was going to take longer than he'd hoped. "Ah…okay. Anyone else have an idea of what's going on here? Pickles?" He looked at the drummer in hopes that he might know what Nathan had planned, since he usually seemed to know what his bandmates were up to before Charles got around to finding out about them.
But Pickles just shrugged. "Dood, I know aboat as much as you do."
Murderface sighed loudly. "I'm not getting kicked out again, am I? I haven't even done anything fucked up in monthsch!"
"No, it's not that," Nathan insisted, and was about to say more before Toki interrupted him.
"Oooh! Is Skwisgaar leavings the band agains? We needs a new leads guitarists, don'ts we?"
Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. "I nots leavings de band, dildos idiots."
"Shut the fuck UP!" Nathan yelled, his voice echoing around the room, stunning everyone into an abrupt silence.
Charles decided to take control of this before it got totally out of hand. "Nathan? What's on your mind? We know it's important, so if you could just tell us what it is, then-"
"Okay, I know, I'm getting to it," Nathan retorted abruptly. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then nodded.
"Okay, uh…I know this is a totally dorky thing and probably not metal at all, but I've been wanting to do it for a while now, and since we're fucking Dethklok I think we could make it totally metal, so…" He paused, then intoned, in his deepest stage voice, "I want to LARP."
"You wanna whet?" Pickles asked, after a few seconds of confused silence.
"What ams meanings LARP?" Toki asked no one in particular.
I know what it isch," Murderface said, smirking at Nathan.
"Ja, I knows it, too," Skwisgaar chimed in. The guitarist and the bassist glanced at each other and made snorting noises of barely controlled laughter.
Nathan stood up. "Fuck the both of you," he growled, and was about to leave the room when Charles shot out of his chair and laid a hand on the front man's shoulder.
"Now hold on," he said. "Murderface, Skwisgaar, stop that. Nathan, are you saying that you want to…?"
Nathan made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "Yes, okay? I wanna get all fucking dressed up and run around in a fucking field or forest or something and pretend to be a knight or a Viking or something awesome like that. I know it's totally stupid and I'm a nerd for even thinking it, but…I just think it's so awesome!"
"So thet's all ya do, jest run around n' pretend to kill people?" Pickles asked, then looked over at Murderface, who was still snickering to himself. "Ain't that just like one a' those Civil War reenactments yer always tryin' to get us to go see with you?"
Murderface scowled across the table at Pickles. "NO! Thosche are totally different, man! That'sch history, not a bunch of virginsch running around pretending to cascht schpells like it'sch a fucking Harry Potter movie!"
"Hey! Harry Potters ams awesome!" Skwisgaar exclaimed.
Murderface rolled his eyes, mumbling "Whatever, dick" under his breath before continuing, "Besidesch, I moschtly go to those thingsch for the bonfire parties afterwardsch, they all get totally fucking drunk and high!"
"That's what we'll do, then," Nathan interjected. "We'll all get costumes and stuff and go out there and battle, then afterwards we'll have a bonfire and get totally drunk and high. It'll be the most brutal LARP of all time!"
"Ja, dat actually does sound likes a goods time," Skwisgaar admitted. "But Nathans, who ams we goings to kill? Most of de time dere's likes, fifty to a hundred peoples doing dis, not five…or six if you count Offdensens."
"Ah…we're not. Counting me, that is." Charles drew himself up in his chair, looking rather stiff and irritated.
Nathan gave Charles a rather nervous sideways glance. "But I wanted this to be like, a chance for you to hang out with us again. Since you said you would, remember?"
"Ja, you says it!" Toki exclaimed.
"Yeah I mean we only ran away and had to eat poischon berriesch and watch hobosch shoot each other up with dirty needlesch on a train, but hey, if you don't feel bad about it then whatever, bro."
Charles looked around at the five members of the most brutal death metal band in music history, who were currently all sitting around the conference table giving him sad puppy-dog eyes. His resolve hardened when his glance fell on Murderface, weakened only the tiniest bit at Skwisgaar. It started to quake dangerously when he got to Pickles and Toki, and fully and completely crumbled when his gaze fell on Nathan.
He hadn't had anyone to spar with in quite a while…
"Fine. I'm in. But Skwisgaar's right, we do need more people. I'll ah, get some Klokateers to participate, draw up some accident waivers, and-"
"Yeah yeah, okay, we git it, you'll do ahll the stuff for the thing," Pickles interrupted. "So what kinda costumes we wearin' fer this?"
"We're all Vikings, Pickles, weren't you listening?" Nathan was getting antsy already, and handed a large manila envelope to Charles. "This is the storyline behind the battle, and the costume and weaponry designs. Most groups make their own shit, but…do you really want us to try and make anything?"
Charles nodded. "Ah…good point." He took the envelope from Nathan, then stood up. "Well I'd best be going then. When did you want to do this?"
"Saturday," Nathan said. Charles fought back a sigh. It was Wednesday. Stuff like this oftentimes took months to prepare for.
As the band was leaving and Charles was following them out the door, Nathan stopped him by standing in front of him, then laying his broad hand on Charles's chest. "You're coming to the bonfire, too."
"Nathan-"
"Just be there and be ready to get drunk," Nathan ordered, gazing intently down at the manager before turning and leaving the room.
Charles saw Nathan's eyes in his dreams that night, floating amid a backdrop of fire and burning hamlets.
Organizing Nathan's LARP was actually the least stressful thing Charles had to worry about. All he'd had to do was simply go online and go to a few websites.
First he accessed his administrator's account at the official Dethklok website and posted on the forums that there would be an exclusive event this Saturday at Mord Haus, and the first three hundred people to respond to the post would be granted access. Within seconds, Charles had more than enough people to participate, making up the other warring Viking tribes that Nathan had requested.
Charles then found a website that specialized in medieval costumes and regalia, and they had plenty of Viking gear, which Charles proceeded to clean them out of. Over two hundred full costumes were ordered, including the "weapons", which were made out of mostly foam and rubber, and the helmets, armor, pelts and animal-skin boots and trousers. He'd asked that the fans come dressed as Vikings for the event without giving away too many details as to what was actually happening, but it was better to be safe than sorry…Nathan had been quite specific down to the last detail about what he'd wanted everyone to wear.
Lastly, after all his research and internet work was finished, Charles gathered together a team of twenty-five of his strongest Klokateers, who would be in the boys' "tribe." Security would be at its most extreme during the event, but Charles didn't want to risk some of the more unstable fans getting a little too close to Dethklok. Besides, the men and women he'd chosen were trained to the fullest extent. He didn't think a fake battleaxe would throw them off in the least.
The whole thing took not even a full day to put together. Now, all he had to do was put some of his own finishing touches on it.
Saturday Morning, One Hour Before Battle:
"Where the fuck IS everyone? The fucking LARP's in an hour and no one's here yet!"
Nathan, in full Viking attire, paced the boardroom where he'd insisted the band meet up before going out to the golf course, which Charles had converted into a full-scale battlefield. He had a sinking feeling in his gut already. He didn't ask for much around here - okay, well, maybe he did ask for a lot, but compared to Murderface he wasn't that selfish. All he'd wanted was for just one thing of his to go right, and it looked like the guys were all going to ruin it for him. Charles wasn't even here yet, and he was usually there before anyone else was when something was about to happen.
The boardroom door swung open and Skwisgaar and Toki came in. Both were in full costume, as promised, but neither were dressed like Vikings.
"What the hell are you two supposed to be? I thought I said come dressed as a Viking!" Nathan snarled at them.
"Ja, but…I'ms a dragon! Dey much cooler dan dildos Vikings," Skwisgaar pointed out. He was engulfed in a too-large, faded green, worn- out looking dragon suit, with patches of silver duct tape on the elbows and knees. He still had his Explorer hanging over his shoulder, even though the suit had paws that covered his hands and fingers.
"You look like Barney," Nathan replied.
"Checks me out! I'ms a totally cool Viking bunny!" Toki was, indeed, dressed in a light blue Easter bunny suit. He stuck his butt out and waggled his cotton tail in Nathan's direction.
Nathan rolled his eyes. "A bunny. Great." He turned to Skwisgaar. "Eh, I guess a dragon's not bad, like that movie where they trained them. They were Vikings, so you can be like out mascot or something."
"Whats about me? I wants to be mascot!"
"Toki, I'm not even gonna waste a conversation with you on this. You can like, go pick carrots and stick 'em up your ass or whatever it is bunnies do."
"Allllriiight, kiddies! Whos'ch ready to battle?"
Murderface strode into the room in full Confederate Civil War uniform. He had a bayonet slung over one shoulder and a passed-out Pickles in his underwear over the other.
"Oh, God…." Nathan covered his eyes with his hand before looking back up and glaring at Murderface. "For the last fucking time. I said VIKING COSTUMES." His voice boomed an echo around the walls of the boardroom.
"And I schaid, that Civil War reenactments are better," Murderface retorted. "Juscht think of it as, I got a time machine and went back in time to help you out with my schuperior weaponry."
"There is so much stuff that's wrong about what you just said," Nathan deadpanned. He focused his attention on Pickles. "Fuck…he's not even wearing anything, except his underwear!"
"Yeah I know, but you schaid you wanted everyone here, scho I brought him for ya!"
"Just…put him over there, or something," Nathan gestured to an unspecified space in the room, and Murderface laid Pickles in one of the chairs at the table.
Nathan sighed, looking down at his awesome boots that he probably wouldn't even get to use now that the guys had fucked everything up for him. It was just like dating all over again, except this time there were no women, just a stupid, nerdy dream he'd had since he was a teenager. He hadn't acted on it back then, even though he'd desperately wanted to. Back then he'd been Nathan Explosion, promising young football player, at least until he'd quit school, and his reputation would have been destroyed if anyone would have seen him running around a field with a bunch of nerds pretending to battle and cast spells. Now he was an adult, a celebrity whose image would be castrated, to say the least.
"Good morning, boys. Are we, ah, ready to do this?"
Nathan looked up when he heard Charles' voice, and he had to keep his jaw from slamming itself down on the ground when he saw his manager walk into the room. Charles wore a sheepskin vest, no shirt on underneath, tan deerhide pants, and shin-high hide boots, dyed black. His glasses were nowhere to be seen. The pants had been modified to exhibit a red, runic Gear on each knee, and the vest was streaked through with red paint, to give off a bloodstain effect.
Charles was the most brutal thing Nathan had ever seen, and the most beautiful.
"Whoa." He hadn't wanted to say anything aloud, but Charles looked way too good to just sit there and stare like an asshole. "You look awesome."
Charles just flashed that barely-there grin at the front man. "Thank you, Nathan. You look very…authentic, yourself."
"Thanks," Nathan mumbled, trying not to blush, then turned to look at the other guys. "See? At least Charles fucking listens to me!"
Murderface just rolled his eyes.
"Are we ready, then?" Charles asked the group at large. "The other tribes are outside waiting."
Nathan nodded, more to snap himself out of another eyeful of Charles than to give an actual response. "Yeah. Yeah, I've been ready, let's go."
When they arrived out on the lush, sprawling battle area, an earsplitting roar erupted from the crowds of fans waiting anxiously for their idols to arrive. Nathan never usually cared about his fans' adulations, but now the cheers were the most exhilarating sounds he'd ever heard. Flags and banners waved in the air among the crowd, all of them adorned with different versions of the Gear, or pictures of Nathan from the Thunderhorse video.
Nathan tried his hardest to keep his most brutal scowl on his face, but what he really felt like doing was grinning like an idiot and cheering right back at all of them. After all these years, finally, he was getting to do what he never could. He couldn't believe Charles had put all this together in such a short period of time.
Nathan followed Charles over to the team of Klokateers who would be in their tribe, and all of them bowed to him, lowering themselves down on one knee in perfect unision, most bracing themselves with their swords or one-handed axes.
"Oh my God this is so fucking awesome," Nathan rumbled in Charles' ear.
"Glad you approve, Nathan," Charles replied, his own voice barely audible over the din of the constant roar of pumped up fans.
"There's gotta be something I can do to, like, repay you. For doing this for me. This has been kind of a dream of mine. I know that sounds stupid, but-"
Charles turned to face Nathan. "No, it doesn't, at all. And there is a way."
"What's that?" Nathan asked, his heart thumping erratically under his chain mail vest and buckskin tunic.
"You spar me, later tonight in the wooded area, sometime during the bonfire," Charles replied.
Nathan just nodded. "Sounds good," he replied, gripping his sword to keep his hands from shaking. He'd seen Charles' swordplay only once, when the manager had first taken over Dethklok's affairs, and had needed a cold shower afterwards.
Charles returned the nod, and ascended the stairs on the large, rustic wooden stage that had been set up for the event. The only thing that looked out of place about it was the 1000-inch flat screen monitor chained to the top of the stage.
A Klokateer handed Charles a microphone, and the crowd, for the most part, went silent.
"Thank you all for coming," Charles greeted to the audience, still his stiff, formal self even while in full Viking attire. "The battle will be starting shortly, but first there's a video to explain some of the rules to you." He stepped aside as the monitor switched on, and Facebones appeared.
"Facebones, you rule!" a random guy yelled in the crowd.
"Hey pals! It's me, FACEBOOONNNES! Are we ready to have a good time bein' Vikings? Huh? ARE WE? I don't know about you dildos but I don't think Vikings had very many rules to follow. But since this is Mord Haus, home of the most legendary, brutal band of all time, DETHKLOK, there ARE gonna be rules here, and a lot of 'em let me tell ya! And heeeere they are!" Facebones did a complete 360-degree spin before rattling off a list of regulations that would probably be a mile long and extremely boring if anyone else read them.
Meanwhile, the other guys in the band were getting antsy.
"Ugh, when is thisch gonna be over? And where's the craft services table?"
"Yeeah, when's the bahnfire?" Pickles, who'd been awakened by Toki pouring a bucket of ice cold water over his head, wondered aloud. "I wanna get drunk. Heh, again."
"Dis place ams a total sausage festival," Skwisgaar sniffed. "Where ams all de hots elf ladies?"
"Um, I don't think Vikings had elves," Pickles replied.
Nathan whirled to glare at them all. "All of you, shut up. Murderface, they don't have fucking craft services at a LARP, okay?"
Skwisgaar tapped Nathan's shoulder. "Whens am I goings to be de mascots?"
"What?" Nathan snapped, irritated that the guys kept talking over the Facebones video and totally forgetting what he'd told Skwisgaar moments ago.
"You knows, you says I ams de dragon, and I can be de mascots for our Viking thing."
"You are the mascot. You're being it, right now."
Skwisgaar stared blankly a little before saying, "So…shoulds I, like, does a little dance, or-"
Nathan buried his face in his hands. "I don't give a fuck, go humiliate yourself somewhere else, just stop talking."
"I wants to be mascots too!" Toki piped up. "I does a dance before you, Skwisgaar!" He broke into a run toward the stage. Skwisgaar nearly tripped over his own feet as he ran after Toki. Within seconds, they were both onstage in front of the monitor. Facebones was forgotten as the "armies" broke out into cheers and laughter at the two guitarists. Toki was doing some kind of spastic bunny hop, while Skwisgaar gyrated his hips in an Elvis-like fashion, sending the few women at the event into near hysterics.
"That is scho undignified," Murderface said as he, Pickles and a horrified Nathan watched the scene. "Welp, it's pee-pee time for thisch soldier!"
"NO!" Nathan roared. "All of you just fucking behave!"
"Gahd, Nathan, what're you, my dad?" Pickles retorted.
Charles, meanwhile, ushered the guitarists/mascots offstage before things could get out of hand. "Sorry about that, ah, Toki and Skwisgaar have no doubt started their own bonfire celebration," he quipped into the microphone. The Facebones video, which had been paused during Skwisgaar and Toki's antics, resumed itself. Thankfully Facebones seemed to be wrapping things up himself.
"…And when you've been tapped by someone else's sword or axe, you're out! That's means you're fucking dead in LARP terms! So go sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of the battle, and if you try to get back in after you've already been tapped out, YOU REALLY WILL BE DEAD! Wowie, what a co-inky-dink! So those are the rules, so…LET THE BATTLE BEGIN, ASSHOLES! BYYYEEEEE!"
The monitor switched off. Charles took the microphone back from a Klokateer to address the tribes once more.
"Once again I will remind you all that the last tribe standing gets free box seats to Dethklok's next show, as well as a five dollar gift card to Hot Topic. So, try to be safe out there, and have a, ah…epic battle."
From somewhere in the distance, the war horn blew. The battle was on.
The battle had been kind of a disappointment, Nathan reflected. It had been way, way too fucking short. Plus, he and the guys, and their pre-approved team of Klokateers, hadn't even gotten to participate. Which really sucked, because it had totally defeated the entire purpose of even having the event to begin with.
But, Nathan had to admit, it had been totally fucking brutal to watch.
Once the last battle horn had sounded, all the tribes had rushed full-speed at each other. That in and of itself had been awesome to watch. The tribes had merged into each other, but instead of following all the contact rules that Facebones had laid out for them only a moment beforehand, they'd started impaling each other with their faux weaponry, gouging out each others' eyes with their bare hands, literally ripping each other limb from limb.
Nathan had seen this kind of stuff at shows before and never really gave it much thought. It never seemed real to him, somehow, as if the carnage were just as much a part of the show as the music itself. This, though…it was right in front of him, unable to just blow off as some sort of fluke or trick of the eyes. People were murdering each other in a battle that was supposed to be staged, all to get tickets to Dethklok's next show, the date of which hadn't even been determined yet.
"Holy fuckin' hell!" Pickles whooped, as the band stood close to the stage, watching it all go down. "Dood, I thought this was supposed to be fake!"
"It is," Nathan said. "Uh…we should go out there and fuck some people up, like right now. Why the fuck should they get to have all the fun?"
"Um, no offenses, Nathans, but I thinks I'm goings to stay over here," Skwisgaar replied. "You know, don't wants to gets blood on my dragons mascots suit."
"Yeeah, I'm with Skwisgaar," said Pickles. "Besides, I wanna be alive fer the bonfire, later."
"Fine, pussies," Nathan growled. "Toki? Murderface? You guys coming or what?"
"Noes," said Toki.
"I would, but I scheem to have a cramp. In my ass," said Murderface. "Ow!" He clutched his ass with one hand very unconvincingly.
"You guys are all fucking assholes," Nathan said. He grabbed his broadsword and was about to step out onto the battlefield. Of course, Charles saw this; all he had to do was barely wave his arm and the Klokateers surrounded the front man.
"Sire, we apologize, but we've been given instructions to prevent you from entering the battle if things were to get out of hand," the largest Gear in the army, 7227, replied.
Nathan glared at 7227. "What? Seriously? I can't even be in my own fucking LARP?"
"I'm very sorry, Lord Explosion, but Commander Offdensen insisted. With all due respect, there are people really killing each other out there."
"Aw, god-fucking-dammit!" Nathan yelled, throwing his broadsword on the ground. He knew that if he really wanted to, he could just go out there anyway, but the last thing he wanted was Charles mad at him for being stupid and risking his own life. Besides, those fans out there were insane, what would happen if they didn't stop to recognize who he was and attacked him? Sure, it was what he'd wanted when he'd thought everything would be fake, but now things were real. Not for the first time, he realized that maybe being a regular jack off wasn't such a good thing, after all.
A guy with clunky bronze armor ran up to the Dethklok tribe, screaming and brandishing a very authentic-looking spear. 7227 didn't hesitate to reach out and snap the guy's neck like a twig. The Gear standing next to 7227 kicked Bronze Armor Guy's lifeless body down the hill, where it landed in the battlefield and was promptly crushed under the feet of hundreds of wannabe Vikings as they continued to maim each other.
Nathan sighed. He guessed he would have to have Charles fix this screwup of his, just like the poor guy had to fix all of them.
Hours later:
Not many had survived the battle, and those who had, had been shipped off to St. Necrophagist's, so the bonfire party that night ended up being just the band, Charles and the Klokateers who'd been assigned to Dethklok's tribe, and the security Gears. Two huge fires were set up by 7227 and a few other Gears, one for the employees and another, much bigger one for the band. Jean-Pierre had his team of kitchen helpers set up a table full of Viking-style food, and of course plenty of ale, mead and other ancient forms of alcohol.
In addition to that, Murderface had ordered more modern beverages to be brought out to the band's bonfire so that he didn't have to drink "that crappy Viking schtuff". He had everything from peppermint Schnapps to Jim Beam brought out by the remaining Gears.
Nathan sat in front of the fire, staring into the blazing embers and sulking as his bandmates drank and acted like dumb-asses around him. The whole day had been a complete waste, and tonight wasn't turning out that much better. Because of the epic disaster of Nathan wanting to Larp, he now obviously had to forego the sparring session with Charles that they had planned earlier. Sure they could do it another time, but Nathan had been looking forward to it more than he had the entire event. He'd wanted to "spar" for a long time with the manager, that was for sure. Especially with Charles looking so epically sexy in his Viking gear.
He heard someone walk up behind him, crunching on scattered dead leaves and burned plastic from the remnants of crushed battle gear, and felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around, knowing that it wasn't one of the guys, and the Klokateers knew better than to make physical contact with one of their masters.
Charles stood behind him, still fully clothed in his costume, that small grin on his face. "Hello, Nathan."
"Hey," Nathan said, standing up as he experienced one of the most unmetal feelings of all time - butterflies in his stomach. "Didn't think you'd be coming back out."
"Things went a bit easier than expected," Charles replied. He lifted his sword slightly upward. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," said Nathan, but was unable to move for a moment. He just kept standing there, staring at Charles. He distantly hoped he didn't look too much like an idiot right then, but ultimately didn't care very much if he did.
So fucking hot…so fucking brutal…
Charles' grin dared to widen just a centimeter. "Nathan? Are you all right?"
Nathan nodded his head jerkily as he grabbed his own sword, which had been stabbed into the earth next to the boulder he'd been sitting on. "I'm fine," he said. "C'mon, let's go, like, into the woods or something so these guys don't interrupt us."
They walked off together, side by side, into the wooded area. No one seemed to notice them leave, everyone was too involved in the party. Nathan looked over his shoulder at the guys, just to make sure. Skwisgaar, Pickles and Toki were making some Klokateers do funny dances for them, one of them was wearing Skwisgaar's dragon costume but with his hood still on underneath. Murderface was over by the food table with his back to everyone.
Nathan glanced over at Charles, who was looking over his shoulder as well. Their eyes met and locked for a second before they tore their gazes away, looking around at the forest like they'd never seen trees before.
"It's, uh, nice out here," Nathan mumbled.
"Yes, it is," Charles replied. "I'm, ah, sorry it didn't go as you'd hoped. The Larp, I mean."
Nathan shrugged. He had been pretty bummed about it but now he felt as if he'd gotten what he really wanted out of it, so it didn't seem as important. "'S'okay. Would have liked to fight a little, but hey, shit happens. And it always happens around us so I guess I should've known better."
Charles couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, that it does, Nathan. But it was good that you tried, anyway. Not many people can make something like that seem as…well, as metal as you do."
Nathan grinned. Normally he'd glare at anyone else and grunt out something about making everything metal, for lack of anything else to say. "Thanks. That means, like, a lot. Coming from you."
Charles didn't reply but the grin was still on his face. They walked on in silence until Nathan led the way to a large clearing. It was quite dark now, but the moon was almost full and it illuminated the area to where they could see perfectly. Not that far in the distance, the yard wolves started to howl, and Nathan's blood stirred in his veins as he turned to Charles.
"I know this place pretty well," he explained. "I come here sometimes, usually to write, sometimes to just, y'know…be here, by myself."
Charles nodded. "Everyone needs a place for themselves," he agreed.
Nathan nodded, then blurted, before his brain could tell him whether or not saying this was a good idea, "I've been wanting to bring you here…for a long time now."
Charles looked up at him, the grin transforming almost into a smirk. "Well, you have me here now. What do you plan on doing with me?"
Nathan's knees almost buckled at that, but somehow he managed to keep control. He drew himself up, and pointed his sword at Charles. "You're a merchant from a town my tribe and I just pillaged, and you're fighting to spare your family's lives."
Charles picked up on the roleplay right away, no questions asked, which thrilled Nathan even more. "Nathan The Black, you have slain over half of my village," he intoned, brandishing his sword. "You will let my family and I live, because you will die."
Fuck, why did he have to be so good at this? Nathan's cock stirred under his deerskin trousers. "You will not best me at the game of war, merchant."
Charles's sword clashed loudly with Nathan's, the sound ringing out into the woods, echoing around the trees. Nathan almost backed up when he realized how quick Charles was when it came to all the swordplay stuff. Quick and ruthless. The smaller man lunged into his attacks, yet still managed to look cool and restrained, at times nearly apathetic. Nathan didn't know how much of this he'd be able to stand, before he either had to drop his sword and run away to hide the massive boner he was getting, or just give into his urges, tackle Charles and rip every stitch of clothing off his body.
Nathan eventually had to pause for a second to catch his breath. It was kind of embarrassing, he guessed he really had let himself go, at least compared to Charles. "You are a worthy opponent, merchant," he rumbled in Charles' direction, trying not to huff or gasp for air as he spoke.
"I do what I must to protect myself and my loved ones," Charles replied. His eyes shone with moonlight, the silver hues piercing into Nathan's own. Somehow, Nathan felt that the manager's last reply was more than roleplaying.
"You are very brave…almost too brave." Nathan decided to stop holding back - the least he could do was not just stand there like some old, fat jack off and give the guy a real sparring match - and ran at Charles, the blade of his sword swishing very close to Charles's face.
Charles's own blade cracked against Nathan's before it could come too close, meeting every move Nathan made with a quick block or counter-attack. Nathan hated to admit that he was getting the slightest bit frustrated - there was no getting past this guy, whatever he did, Charles seemed to know what he was going to do two step ahead of time. Yeah, the manager had been fencing since college, but still. Nathan hated to think what a game of chess with the other man would be like.
Nathan was so focused on his sword and getting it past Charles's sword that he almost didn't pay attention when he heard a soft gasp, and suddenly Charles went down. He abandoned his character role, dropped his sword and shot down on his knees. "Fuck, are you okay?"
Charles nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just…sometimes my knee tends to get a little hard to deal with whenever I'm a little rusty."
"That was rusty?" Nathan replied as he helped Charles to his feet. "You were kicking my ass back there. What's wrong with your knee, anyway?" It was weird, almost scary, to see Charles with any sort of injury, even a pesky, long-standing one.
"Old injury coming back to haunt me, is all. I'm fine," Charles repeated to try and ease the concern in Nathan's eyes.
"Sorry," Nathan mumbled, looking rather like he'd stepped on a puppy.
"Don't be, Nathan, it's not your fault. I'm out of practice. It happens when one gets complacent with working behind a desk."
"Well, uh…least I got to fight a little, this time," Nathan replied. "And I won, too…even though it was kind of a technical win."
Charles grinned again. "I was impressed, you've had little to no practice whatsoever and you managed to keep up with me."
"Yeah, so uh…" Nathan cleared his throat, getting back into character. "I am the victor, merchant. What will you do, now, to spare the lives of your loved ones? Perhaps some sort of arrangement can be made."
Charles tried to look troubled and beaten, but wasn't pulling it off very well. "I will do whatever it takes, Nathan The Black," he replied, looking up at Nathan with an almost worshipful gleam in his eyes.
Nathan seized his chance. He reached out, pulled Charles close, and kissed him. His eyes squeezed shut, hoping he didn't get clobbered over the head with a fake sword for what he'd done.
To the contrary, Charles kissed back, his hands flying upwards to place themselves on either side of Nathan's face, then tangling themselves in long, black hair. The kiss was slow, but fiery, and Nathan's tongue soon found its way inside Charles's mouth, wanting nothing more than to taste what he'd longed for now, for over half a decade. Charles's tongue wrapped around Nathan's, the kiss becoming frenzied, hungry.
Their respective restraints snapped, and they began to paw at each other, willing the clothes off of each others' bodies with their hands rather than actually succeeding in taking anything off. Finally, Nathan growled against Charles's lips before diving down to lick and suck at Charles's collarbone as he managed to untie countless leather thongs and rip at the sheepskin vest to at least get his manager shirtless. Once Charles's bare skin was totally exposed, Nathan's lips and tongue found their way across his chest, and his tongue extended slightly to flick at an erect nipple.
Charles moaned, clutching Nathan harder. One of his hands still fisted itself in Nathan's hair, the other one worked its way underneath Nathan's own costume. His nails raked softly across Nathan's back, and the larger man bucked forward at the feel of it.
"I want you," he whispered in Charles's ear. "I've wanted you for so fucking long now."
Charles bit his lip, his eyes locking with Nathan's again. "I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you," he whispered in return. "Possibly before that. I used to have dreams about a large, intense, beautiful figure in black…with long hair and incredible green eyes…" He trailed off as his hand left Nathan's hair to stroke down his cheek. Nathan grabbed the hand, kissing it softly.
"Why didn't you do anything about it before now?" Nathan asked. "Is that why you always found excuses not to pal around with us?"
Charles shrugged. "Well I was busy most of the time, but…it is just a bit inappropriate for a manager to have any sort of relationship with-"
Nathan shook his head. "Hey, no one cares about all that shit. I don't. I mean, we're Dethklok, and you're our manager. We can do whatever we want, and fuck anyone else who has something to say about it."
Charles didn't just flash that small grin this time - he smiled up at Nathan, a real smile that lit Nathan's soul on fire. "You make an excellent point."
"Besides," Nathan continued, "I beat you. So now, I'm your master. You have to do whatever I say."
Charles nodded slowly, his eyes glinting reverently again in the moonlight. "Yes. You are my master. And I would do anything for you."
Nathan felt the buckle on his trousers being undone. His cock was taken out and stroked softly, and he groaned, closing his eyes as he forced his hips not to thrust.
"Magnificent," Charles whispered, and he was on his knees within seconds, swirling the tip of Nathan's cock with his tongue.
Nathan gasped, grabbing Charles's head as gently as he could. He felt that hot, wet tongue work its way down around his shaft, hitting every sweet spot, every nerve. God, it was excruciating, but so fucking good. He kept his eyes closed, since he knew if he looked down to watch Charles, he would come in an instant.
Finally, Charles swallowed him, and Nathan made a sound somewhere between a sigh of relief and a cry of ecstasy. "Haaah…Charles…"
"Mmmm," Charles moaned around his mouthful of Nathan. The singer could barely believe any of this was happening, but the most unbelievable thing about all of this was that Charles really seemed to be enjoying this. No one he'd ever been with in the past - no female, specifically - had ever enjoyed giving head. But Charles seemed almost thankful that he got to do it, showing his appreciation in long, sinful deep-throatings, followed by hot, powerful sucking, using his lips and tongue to create a perfect vaccuum effect around Nathan's throbbing, aching dick.
Nathan knew he was getting a bit loud, but could not for the life of him will himself to stop. Who cared if anyone heard them anyway, they were all drunk of their asses and probably wouldn't even remember. "Oh! Oh, yes, yes, fuck yeah, Charles," he moaned, a growling mantra. "You give the best fucking head…gonna come soon…"
His skin felt like it was on fire, the nerve ending in his fingers and toes were tingling. He tightened his grip on both sides of Charles's head and gave a short, almost high-pitched yelp as he came deep within his manager's throat. Charles swallowed most of it, then pulled off just enough so that he could catch the rest of it on his tongue. Dazed, Nathan opened his eyes to gaze down at Charles, who was sitting back on his knees, relishing the taste of Nathan on his tongue.
"You are insanely fucking sexy, do you know that?"
Charles swallowed once more before standing up again, his legs shaking just the tiniest bit, and smiled up at Nathan again. "Does that please the master?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.
"Fuck!" Nathan's cock twitched again at the word "master". "C'mere." He pulled Charles into his arms, picking him up off the ground and kissing him again, a long, searching, tongue-filled kiss. He didn't mind what the other man tasted like, actually he kind of liked it.
He carried Charles over to one of the trees that encircled the clearing and backed the other man up against it. He unbuckled Charles's own plain brown leather belt, feeling himself get hard again when his hand gripped the manager's cock, which wasn't that much smaller than his own - in fact, it was almost as thick. Nathan wanted to feel Charles's length against his, not to compare as much as feel warm, pulsing skin against his own.
Charles angled his hips upward, bracing his back against the tree and wrapping his strong legs around Nathan's hips. Their cocks brushed together once, and they gasped in unison at the hot, sliding friction.
"Nathan-" Charles gasped, and the front man moaned, his arms braced against the tree trunk on either side of Charles, and began to thrust. Charles cried out, lunging forward in Nathan's arms for a long, deep kiss. They both pried a hand away and down, to encircle around their wildly frotting cocks. Their fingers laced together as they thrust and pumped, and Nathan ripped his mouth away from Charles's to bite at the hollow of Charles's throat.
"Ahhh, NATHAN!"
Charles came, burying his face in Nathan's vest, not even wincing at the cold feeling of chain mail on his face as his seed spilled over his and Nathan's hands. Nathan came again soon after, growling out his own release in another press of his lips to his manager's, their foreheads resting together in an intimacy that made Nathan's heart swell.
"That was fucking amazing," Nathan murmured in Charles's ear after a moment of rest between them. "Way better than any Larp."
"Well it sort of was a Larp, technically," Charles replied, kissing Nathan's neck softly. "I'm sure stuff like that happened back then, from time to time."
"So, uh, do we have to dress up like Vikings every time? 'Cause as awesome as that is, I kinda like us being, y'know, just us." Nathan took one of Charles's hands and squeezed it as if to reassure him.
Charles smiled blissfully, resting his head against Nathan's chest. "That sounds absolutely perfect…although I don't mind the roleplaying."
"Oh yeah…I don't mind it either." Nathan grinned wickedly down at Charles.
At least he knew they would both be using their costumes in the foreseeable future.