Toki stood alone in a dark corner of the main room, a bottle of Grey Goose clutched loosely in his left hand and tiny pinpricks of blood dripping from his right. He had a vague recollection of crushing a shot glass earlier—that would have been right when the vodka was getting hold of him—but by now, Toki was too drunk to notice the pain.
The only thing he was noticing tonight was Skwisgaar.
I fucking hate fans, Toki thought darkly, as he took a sip from the heavy, frosted bottle.
Most of the fans who swarmed the party were female, and many were actually quite pretty. Some of them could even have been called beautiful by Dethklok standards. Their faces were painted in sultry dark hues; their lips, tongues, noses and eyebrows were pierced; they were tight, midriff Dethklok tees that must have been youth-sized as small as they were. These girls flocked to them all, but as it had been since the band's first taste of fame so many years ago, the majority of them flocked to Skwisgaar.
Toki couldn't blame them, of course; there was something enticing about Skwisgaar, something that radiated sexual appeal despite his gaunt frame and persistent pallor. Part of it came from the Swede's infuriating arrogance, his insistence upon always looking down his nose at at those who would have his attention, and that was likely the main thing that drew the fangirls like flies to honey.
Women love an asshole, Nathan had said of Skwisgaar years ago, and it was true. They loved him because he hated them, they loved him because getting his acknowledgement and attention was a feat to be proud of, they loved him because when he allowed them to come to his bed they felt as if they had been validated. Toki had once loved him like that, too, except his adoration had bordered more along the lines of hero-worship.
But Toki had learned, like so many young people do, that heroes did not exist. He had learned Skwisgaar's flaws, had seen them showcased many times over the years, and though he still sought the Swede's approval in the area of guitars and music he no longer treated him with the reverence due a god. Skwisgaar was divine only when it came to his instrument; otherwise, he was painfully human, with human skeletons dancing inside his closet.
Toki loved him for his humanity, loved him for those skeletons, loved him in spite of his flaws and demons, or perhaps because of them.
And there the Swede stood, in the midst of his harem, and Toki was powerfully, drunkenly jealous. He poured vodka down his throat to quench the small, smouldering flames of his fury, but the liquor only fueled the fire.
If we could only tell Nathan and Murderface, we wouldn't fucking have this problem, he thought, irritated, as he glanced in their direction. Murderface was cheerfully allowing two relatively attractive young women to toss shots of bourbon into his mouth, but every time he looked up he looked enviously in Skwisgaar's direction. Nathan would do the same, although he was a little more distracted than Murderface—a woman with long blonde hair was perched in his lap, wearing a very wet 'Explode Me' t-shirt. Both the bassist and the vocalist seemed to be a little thrown off that Skwisgaar wasn't flirting with any of the women that vied for his attention, despite the fact that the girls touched him and whispered to him at every available opportunity.
Toki himself had been avoiding the girls as much as possible, although it was apparently he could have a harem to rival Skwisgaar's surrounding him in a moment should he choose to move from his hiding place. He saw the ones in their Toki tees, saw them popping Jolly Ranchers like Pickles popped Xanax just because they knew it was his favorite candy. He saw them looking around in anxious expectation, he heard them asking the other band members where he was, but his dark corner was flanked by two large houseplants and the girls were mostly plastered. They would never find him.
Unless I find them first, Toki thought, and began to smile as he hit on a plan that would get Skwisgaar, who had a jealousy streak longer than his body was tall, to drag him out of the main area and up to one of their bedrooms no matter who was watching.
Fighting the urge to laugh out loud, he finished off the vodka and dropped the bottle into one of the houseplants. He looked down at his bloody hand and plucked out the biggest shards he could see. The rest would just have to stay in there; it wasn't as if it hurt that much, and besides, it would be entertaining to see what the more fanatic of the groupies would do just to touch his blood.
He stepped out of the corner. With a wave of pleasure, he noticed that Skwisgaar was the first person in the room to catch his eye. He waved to the Swede with his bleeding hand; concern flashed over Skwisgaar's face, but Toki's attention was soon commanded by the girls that had congregated around him.
He felt two or three of them running their fingers gently over his injured hand, coating their skin in his blood and cooing over his injuries. They kissed his bleeding fingers and Toki grinned; he could feel one of them boldly pushing her soft little hand up his shirt, tracing the outline of the eight-pack abs for which he had become famous.
"Oh, Toki, you are so ripped," one of them whispered, her lips close to his ear.
The warmth of her breath on his skin did little or nothing for him, but Toki smiled at her anyway. "Takk," he said, and could have died laughing as some of the girls began to squeal and clap. They apparently loved the way his voice sounded in his native language. He repeated word as another girl handed him a shot glass of some sweet liqueur.
He tossed it back and looked quickly at Skwisgaar. The Swede's pale face had colored deeply. He was no longer even pretending to pay attention to the circle of women around him. Toki saw him snatch a freshly opened beer from one of them and chug it at a record pace; he threw the bottle behind him when he finished, ignoring the cry of pain as it smashed one girl in the head. Skwisgaar crossed his thin arms over his chest and glared frankly in Toki's direction.
"Toki? Toki, you're bleeding…holy shit, you've got glass all stuck in your hand, too!"
Toki glanced down at the girl talking to him, simply because she didn't sound the same as the others around him. She had taken his hand in both of hers and was examining it carefully, but her thick, multicolored dreadlocks had fallen across her face and Toki couldn't quite see what she looked like.
"Shouldn't you go take care of this or something?" she asked, taking the end of her shirt and wiping away the little rivulets of blood on his wrists. "It might get infected or something, then you wouldn't be able to play for awhile."
She looked up at him as she spoke. Her skin wasn't much darker than his own, but it was prettier somehow, more natural; Toki hazarded a guess that she might have been of Middle Eastern descent. Her face was pierced in about nine different places with brightly glinting rhinestones, her dark eyes were outlined with long, thick lashes and brightly colored makeup; the low cut of her black corset revealed exceptional cleavage decorated in even more exceptional tattoos. In fact, Toki noticed, most of her exposed skin was tatooed, and he lost himself in them for a long drunken moment until the girl reached up and tapped him lightly on the cheek.
"Toki?" she said. "Man, you're pretty shitfaced, huh? Don't you know your hand is kind of a little mutilated?"
"Oh, is fine," he muttered, coming back to himself and smiling at her brightly. "I can'ts even feels it. What's yours name?"
"Sahar," the girl answered, returning his smile as if she thought Toki might be too drunk to know exactly what he was asking. "Sahar Emadi. Now who do I have to talk to to make sure you get this hand tended to? It would suck if you got tetanus or something and could never play again, you know."
"Yous be talkingks to me," sneered an unmistakeable voice from nearby. Toki and Sahar looked up to see Skwisgaar looming over them both. He looked furious. "Ecks-yooze mine friends, he is shitsfaceds."
Sahar looked at Skwisgaar for a moment, reluctant to release Toki's hand when the other guitarist looked so murderous…but slowly, a knowing smile spread across her pierced lips.
"You're right," she said, letting go of Toki's hand and allowing Skwisgaar to close his long fingers over his upper arm. "He is pretty drunk. You should get him upstairs…throw him in bed or something…he'll feel much better in the morning."
She winked at them both, then melted back into the crowd.
Skwisgaar didn't even see her go. He was dragging Toki away from his admirers, toward the staircase, entirely oblivious to the fact that Nathan and Murderface were both watching them in confusion.
As Skwisgaar pulled Toki roughly into the shadow of the staircase's first landing, he had a momentary break in his anger where he realized that even his long fingers would not close around Toki's bicep. It unnerved him a little, made him think twice before launching into the tirade that was on the tip of his tongue. Toki tended to dissolve into a sort of unpredictable madness when he was drunk, and could easily do serious damage to Skwisgaar without exactly meaning to. He released Toki's arm and took a step back, but Toki was stil grinning, and Skwisgaar was still furious.
"I knew it would work," Toki said, beginning to laugh. He leaned back against the wall with a gentle thump, his bloody hand leaving a smudged imprint against the paint.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Skwisgaar asked in a hiss. "And what the hell were you doing down there, letting all those stupid fucking girls put their hands all over you?"
"I was trying to get you up here," the Norwegian answered. His smile was mischievous. "If I didn't, we'd never get away from that damn party, Nathan and Murderface would have noticed something weird."
"Well they're definitely going to be thinking something is weird now," Skwisgaar grumbled. "Why the hell did you want me up here in the first place?"
"Because that party is no fun and you know it," Toki replied. "We can have more fun up here. Alone."
Skwisgaar watched, fascinated, as Toki's tongue swept over his lips. "Yeah," he said, as he leaned toward Toki, placing his hands against the wall on either side of the shorter man's head. "Alone sounds pretty damn good to me."
"Without any of those stupid fucking fans falling all over you," Toki mumbled. He tilted his head to one side as Skwisgaar sank his teeth gently into his throat.
"Mmmhm," Skwisgaar purred, as he moved one hand from the wall and slid it underneath Toki's t-shirt. "You never let them touch you like that again, you hear me?" he mumbled, mouth still pressed to Toki's skin.
Toki's breath hitched sharply; Skwisgaar had punctuated his order by pinching one of the younger man's nipples. Toki nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth, but Skwisgaar's body pinned his own against the wall and the Swede moved his lips slowly to Toki's ear.
"Let me hear you promise," he said, teeth closing around Toki's earlobe. "Let me hear you say you're mine."
"I…I promise," Toki mumbled, trying to speak through the thrill that raced from the nerves of his ear to the nerves of his groin. "N-never, I promise. I'm…I-I'm y-yours, oh, God, Skwisgaar-!"
The Swede's left hand had slipped from Toki's chest down into his jeans, stroking him through the knit fabric of his boxers; Toki felt his knees weaken, his toes curl tightly inside his boots, and couldn't suppress a moan.
Skwisgaar caught the incriminating sound with his mouth.
"Sh-shouldn't we m-move?" Toki breathed, when Skwisgaar pulled away a moment later.
Skwisgaar only smiled, sliding his hand through the fly of Toki's boxers. With one finger, he stroked the hypersensitive skin of Toki's balls, making the shorter man writhe against him.
"Fuck them," Skwisgaar said quietly. "Let them catch us."
He kissed Toki again, hot and hard, before he pressed his lips against Toki's ear once more and hissed, "You won't make a sound. Do you understand?"
Toki could only nod as Skwisgaar sankly slowly to his knees in front of him, pulling his jeans and boxers down as he went, but a moment later he was hard put to remain obedient. He bucked his hips forward, stifling a moan by digging his teeth into the heel of his hand as Skwisgaar's slick tongue swirled around the swollen head of his cock.
Skwisgaar was sucking him slowly, torturously, using one hand to hold Toki's hips to the wall, using the other to stroke his aching balls, and the raw need that was pooling low in Toki's stomach was impossible to endure.
Toki buried the fingers of his uninjured hand deeply into Skwisgaar's long hair, pulling his head backward until the Swede was forced to look up at him, lips swollen and shiny and smirking.
"What's the matter?" he asked, circling one hand loosely around Toki's thick cock. "Can't handle it?"
"Bedroom," Toki said in a fierce whisper. "Now."
Skwisgaar nodded, loving the sharp little pinpricks of pain along his scalp where Toki's fingers held him, loving the strength in Toki's arms as the younger man pulled him to his feet.
Toki pulled his jeans up, but didn't bother to fasten them. He led Skwisgaar down the hallway, leaving no evidence of their brief tryst except for the bloody, smeared print of his hand against the wall. The two guitarists came to Skwisgaar's bedroom first, and Skwisgaar had no more than slammed the door behind him than he found himself pinned against it by the hard weight of Toki's body.
The kiss was wet and desperate and delicious; Skwisgaar felt himself grinding shamelessly against the muscles of Toki's leg, felt the Norwegian's mouth slide from his lips to his throat, and Skwisgaar couldn't remember ever wanting so badly. He was toeing off his boots and fumbling with his own belt buckle even as his tongue was drawn into back Toki's mouth, and when they next broke apart it was only to shrug out of the last clothes either of them still wore: their shirts.
They paused then, for a moment; Skwisgaar had noticed the smears of Toki's blood standing out against his pale skin. A delicious shudder went through him, knowing he'd been marked in such an intimate way, and he looked hungrily back toward Toki.
Dear God, Skwisgaar thought, and another chill went up his spine, a chill that was only part lust. Toki's naked body radiated raw, physical power like a furnace. It was unnerving, almost, to see all those muscles, all that strength laid bare before him, but what truly made Skwisgaar pause were the scars.
He could see them, creeping up over Toki's massive shoulders, crossing like latticework over parts of his broad chest. There were a few curled around his calf muscles, yet more carved into the hard slabs of his thighs, and while to another person those scars might have spoken of a weak, powerless childhood, all Skwisgaar saw in them were the marks of a man who had survived.
"Yeah," Toki said quietly, when he realized what Skwisgaar was looking at so intently. "They're…" he paused for a moment, then swallowed heavily and continued, "They're everywhere."
He reached out with his injured hand for the light switch. Skwisgaar caught his wrist before he reached it.
"They're beautiful," he said, not lying, and kissed him.
For a moment, Toki was frozen beneath the gentle kiss, so startled and touched was he by Skwisgaar's words. The Swede had released his wrist; his arms were wrapped around Toki's waist now, and slowly, Toki melted into their warmth. He tangled one hand in Skwisgaar's long hair. It didn't take long for the intensity of their need to build again, and Toki found himself pinning Skwisgaar to the wall once more, tugging at his hair until his mouth opened and he could slip his tongue between the taller man's full lips.
It felt so good, so impossibly good to have Skwisgaar, the Ice King, the sex god, the fastest guitar player in the world shivering and moaning beneath his touch. It was an entirely different kind of drunk, this feeling, and Toki reveled in it, being sure to turn his every touch into something slow and sweet that would make Skwisgaar writhe or whimper beneath him. He began kissing his way down the blond's jawline, down his throat and collarbone; he paused to nibble the tiny nubs of Skwisgaar's nipples, then bit down once, just a little harder, until Skwisgaar gave a shocked cry of pain and pleasure. Toki continued his teasing journey downward, licking, nipping, sucking, until his lips reached the tip of Skwisgaar's flushed, throbbing cock.
He paused, his tongue flicking uncertainly over the soft, sensitive skin, as if to taste. He could hear Skwisgaar's rapid breath, could feel the beat of his racing pulse where he'd pinned the Swede's hips to the wall with his hands.
Toki looked up at him, and Skwisgaar could have gotten hard just looking into those eyes, those bright, devilish eyes that promised him the sweetest torture he'd ever know. He watched with a kind of pleasurable trepidation as the length of his cock disappeared into Toki's hot, wet mouth, and as the man below him began to move his head, to swirl his tongue in a thousand filthy patterns, Skwisgaar buried his hands in Toki's hair and moaned.
"Fuuuuck…" he tried to thrust his hips forward, tried to bury himself as deeply into the heat of Toki's mouth as he could, but the hands holding him down were unforgiving and Skwisgaar had no choice but to allow himself to be licked and sucked and tortured and teased until his moans gave way to a frantic mush of English and Swedish.
"Oh, fuck, Toki, please…I can'ts…fucks…Toki oh god Toki yous has to stops, please stop Toki please I can't I can't I can't…"
Toki gasped around the length in his mouth as he felt Skwisgaar's fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck; it hurt, but as Skwisgaar dragged him upward by his hair, looking down at him with blazing bright eyes, Toki's cock was hard enough to ache between his legs.
"I'm not done with you," the Swede whispered. His words sent a shudder through Toki's entire body, and Skwisgaar pushed him roughly down onto the nearby bed. The younger man couldn't help himself, couldn't control himself; he curled his hand around his swollen cock and began to stroke, eyes locked on Skwisgaar, who had turned his back toward him and was rummaging in a drawer of the nightstand.
When Skwisgaar turned back to him, a little bottle of lube in one hand, the grin that spread across his features was slow and roguish.
"Someone is impatient," he said as he knelt, straddlingToki on the bed. He bent low, his hair falling over both their faces, and he brushed his tongue along the shell of Toki's ear before whispering, "You don't touch yourself unless I tell you, Toki, do you understand?"
Skwisgaar's mere voice was unbearable, Toki thought, whining in frustration as Skwisgaar grabbed his wrist and made him move his hands behind his head. Just hearing the older man talk to him like that…being commanded in such a filthy, velvety tone…it was enough to make him him writhe beneath the Swede's scant weight, begging with his body for what he'd been denied giving himself.
The fingers of Skwisgaar's left hand were shiny now, slick with the cold, clear stuff from the bottle. He traced a slow, teasing circle around the head of Toki's cock with one of his slippery fingers, laughing when Toki sucked in his breath in surprise at the coldness of it, laughing even more when the gasp gave way to a moan as the stuff began to warm up and tingle against his skin.
"You like this, don't you?" Skwisgaar asked, stroking the underside of Toki's balls almost lazily. "Don't you, Toki?"
Toki opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a sudden breathless cry as one of Skwisgaar's long fingers began to probe gently against his entrance.
"What?" asked Skwisgaar in mock innocence, moving his fingertip in tiny, agonizing circles. "I asked you a question, Toki, I think you should answer me."
"I…I…ah! Hn…ha…" Skwisgaar was pushing against him now, opening him, the lube tingling against his most sensitive, most private skin, and Toki couldn't speak. He was so flushed and so embarrassed and so, so fucking hard, and when Skwisgaar's slick finger finally slipped ever so slightly inside of him he could only squirm and whimper, too self-conscious to even open his mouth.
"You're blushing, little Toki," said Skwisgaar, as he slowly slid his finger deep inside Toki's trembling body.
Another finger nudged against him, harder than the first, more insistent; the blond leaned over him with a small smile on his lips and took Toki's chin in his other hand, commanding the Norwegian's eyes with his own.
"Now…tell me how much you like it when I touch you," he commanded, his next finger pushing past Toki's tense muscles, "Tell me you like how this feels, tell me you like having my fingers inside you..."
The Swede began scissoring his fingers apart, moving slowly, stretching Toki open a little at a time, and though Toki arched into the motion, though he moaned and shook, his cheeks had flushed deeply and he tried to turn his head away, tried to close his eyes.
Skwisgaar made a tsking sound in his throat and turned Toki's face roughly back toward his own, holding it there so that he could not look away from him. He began thrusting his fingers in and out, slowly at first, then more quickly, being sure to spread them apart as he slipped them inside, and he laughed quietly when Toki began twisting and squirming in earnest.
"Fuck you," the smaller man moaned suddenly, speaking at last. Toki thrashed his head back and forth on the pillow for a moment, arching his back into Skwisgaar's fingers without shame. "Fuck you, yes, goddammit, all right, I love it, please just don't fucking stop I'll do anything just please, please it feels so good…oh God, Skwisgaar, fuck, more, please…"
"Just as I thought," Skwisgaar said, and his own voice had gone ragged and husky. He withdrew his fingers from Toki, wrapping his lube-slick hand around his own cock and stroking. When Toki sat up on one elbow, indignant and glaring and so rock-hard it was sinful, Skwisgaar gave up his teasing. He shoved Toki back down into the bed and crawled into position over him before the younger man could so much as open his mouth.
"Are you ready?" Skwisgaar asked, pressing the slick, swollen head of his cock into Toki with as much care as he was able. "I don't want to hurt you but fuck, Toki, I want you so bad—"
Toki made no reply. His blue eyes blazed from his face; Skwisgaar felt Toki's strong hands clamp down on his ass with bruising force, pushing him down, pushing him in, taking the Swede's length into his own clenching heat all at once.
They both cried out, Skwisgaar in surprise and pleasure, Toki in pleasure and pain, but once it had happened neither could control himself.
Toki wrapped his hand around his own cock, thumbing the slick head, forgetting what Skwisgaar had told him. He hooked his legs around the Swede's thin waist and lay back, rocking with the thrusts, his free hand fisted tightly into the bedsheets, his eyes locked on Skwisgaar's with an intensity that made him feel feverish, made him stroke himself harder, faster, until Skwisgaar suddenly noticed what he was doing.
The Swede said nothing, only snatched both Toki's wrists above his head and pinned them there with one of his own hands, thrusting harder and deeper when Toki began to buck beneath him , began begging and pleading with him. His cock was brushing against Skwisgaar's stomach with every roll of his hips and he was nearly sobbing in frustration.
"Nnngg, Skwis…! Ah! Hn…ha, Skwisgaar, please, I…I n-need…I can't…f-fuck, Skwisgaar!"
Toki fairly screamed his name, having rolled his hips upward as Skwisgaar drove into him; the Swede knew he'd found the right place, knew he'd found the way to drive Toki to the limit of his need, and when Toki's back arched again, he let his wrists go and held the younger man's hips, losing himself in the bulge of Toki's biceps, the clenching of his abs, the cries from his lips.
"Fuck, Skwisgaar, oh God, Skwisgaar fuck please don't stop!" Toki was lost now, abandoning any remaining embarrassment, digging his fingers deep into the folds of the pillow behind him, throwing his head back and crying out in frenzied need. "Skwisgaar please, fuck me harder…! Oh, God, fuck yes like that don't stopohmyfuckingGodSkwis-!"
Toki clenched his strong legs tightly around the Swede's waist, moaning his name as if no one in the world would ever be able to hear; the wet warmth of his orgasm spilled onto both their stomachs just as Toki felt Skwisgaar's body grow tense above him.
"Toki," the Swede breathed, shuddering. Toki's mouth was captured in a savage kiss as Skwisgaar came, slicking him from inside.
Skwisgaar collapsed into Toki's arms a moment later. It was a long time before either of them moved, before they were able to do anything more than lie exhausted, holding one another close. As their breathing slowed, as the sweat cooled on their skin, Skwisgaar turned his head and kissed Toki near his temple. He rolled off him gently and stood up.
"Mmm…come back," Toki muttered, already struggling with himself to keep his eyes open. "It's cold without you."
Skwisgaar smiled down at him. "Sorry. I'll be right back, promise."
When the blond reappeared from the bathroom, still wiping himself off with a warm, wet washcloth, Toki was already fast asleep. Skwisgaar cleaned up him up as well, being careful not to wake him. He tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom and crawled into bed beside Toki, pulling the smaller man tightly against him and burying his face in the hollow of Toki's warm throat and shoulder.
