Next it's Nate's turn. Skwisgaar knows how to dress up for him too, the sheer black chiffon baby doll trimmed in pink ribbon, the black and silver stripper heels with the 8 inch stiletto heel and big platform, miniscule black satin thong, sheer black stockings, the garter belt. He applies pink gloss, soft shimmering shadow, teases up his hair and puts on too much eye makeup. He wears diamonds at his throat, on his fingers, on his wrist, and they suit him. He looks delectable like this, an exquisitely expensive whore, it's... brutal.
He knows where just where to find him, and so he goes off, right into the tigers den, knowing what'll happen, and smirking all the way there.
Nathan's stretched out on his bed wearing nothing but his jeans. He really does look like a panther, those intense green eyes, his silken jet black mane spilling over his muscular shoulders, as he reads a book on medieval torture devices.
The blonde says his name, and the raven haired man looks up. He doesn't ask questions, he doesn't hesitate, he doesn't pause. He just gets up and stalks over. The Swede can't fathom how it happens, but next thing he knows he's on his back on the bed, pinned by the bigger man.
Nathan grins, a feral disturbingly predatory grin.
"Look what we got here," purrs the vocalist, unknotting the bow holding the baby doll shut with startling delicacy before literally ripping the panties in half, and tossing the torn material away like wrapping paper at christmas.
Nate's eyes travel over the other man's now nearly naked form, the only things left the garter belt, heels and stockings. He likes those, he'll leave them on, they make the guitarist's long legs look even more gorgeous than usual. He knows what he needs, the heavy manacles resting in the chest beneath his bed, the chains. He wants the blonde helpless, wants him chained up like a virgin (or in the case of the guitarist utterly non-virgin) sacrifice to the god of metal.
"Stay," orders Nate, as he gets the bindings, tightening the leather cuffs firmly around the Swede's wrists, chaining him to the bed posts. The chains are long, giving him some slack for movement, but he won't be getting away, and he won't be fighting back. The Swede looks up at him from heavily lined eyes, lips parting slightly. Nate gazes back, just watching, it's a classic intimidation tactic, and it'd work if the Swede wasn't looking up with that delicious little wicked smirk.
"Yous likings whats you see, Natans?" purrs that blonde, looking up at him, chains clanking, and all Nathan can think about is wiping that "I know what you want" smirk off his face.
Nathan grabs him by the hair. "Did I tell you you could fucking talk, slut?" he growls, slapping him across the face. He's not gentle, he's never gentle. Skwisgaar shuts his mouth, watching just a touch frightened, the fear turns him on though, a dribble of pre-cum leaking from his cock.
"You want somethin' don't you?" he purrs, giving the other man's ass a harsh squeeze.
"Ja, Is ams wantings sometings, yous goings to gives it tos me, Nat'ans?" he purrs, eyes half shutting, flirtatious.
"Don't pull that shit with me," is all the vocalist growls, "I'm going to do whatever the fuck I like with you."
Skwisgaar swallows, but nods. "Ja, Nat'ans," he says softly, hanging his head.
"That's better," said Nate, giving his ass a hard smack with his looped belt, drawing a shocked yelp from the blonde.
This isn't teasing pain, this isn't playing. Nathan grins tracing the welt with a black nailed finger, picking up some lube.
He lubes up thick fingers, sticking two inside the Swede, stretching him roughly, drawing mewls and sobs from the Swede.
Nate growls like an animal, slamming the digits in and out, wanting it to hurt. He wants to break him, dominate him.
Skwisgaar sobs, bucks his hips, trying to get more, but Nathan holds the slender blonde still with one big hand.
"Hold still, bitch," Nate murmurs, adding a third digit, stretching him for what comes next.
It feels perfect, those big fingers stretching him wide, and he moans softly. It's scary how good the big man is, but he's not stretching him out much. Finally he just slips a plug into the blonde and kisses him with a violent hunger. He bites his lip, tongue forcing the other man's lips to part, invading the velvet heat of his mouth, and the Swede moans, shuddering in his bonds.
"Please Nat'ans," says the blonde, drunk on pleasure, voice soft. He's not cocky now, which is just how Nathan likes it.
Nate gives the other man's hair a yank, toying with the plug before drawing it out. He slams in, all vestige of control gone, he bites, he scratches, and he thrusts. Skwisgaar cries out once and then falls back, limp, legs spread, just a pretty toy to be used for the other man's pleasure.
Nathan slams into him, hitting his spot again and again, drawing cries from the Swede beneath him. He bites down on his shoulder, only stopping when the metallic taste of blood reaches his tongue, even so it spurs him on. He's ferocious, using the other man with a force that suggests an intention to break him in half. Heat threatens to consume the guitarist, and he can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but let himself be taken and sob for more.
"You are a pathetic little whore, a worthless pathetic little whore," roars Nathan, slapping him across the face again.
"Ja," cries the Swede, the slap burns and he's flushed from effort and the other man's words, "Is nots evens deservings yous cock ins me"
Nate grabs his hips and his hair, bringing their faces close. "That's right, bitch," he purrs, fucking him even harder. Skwisgaar shakes, bites down on his lower lip and screams, screams till his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts, but he doesn't care, it feels too perfect. Everything but his essence burnt away by the blinding heat of pleasure and pain, washed away in a mythic flood of sensation, leaving his core and nothing else. He writhes, animal and alive.
Nathan's hips move with unstoppable force, slamming in and withdrawing till only the tip remains. The bed creaks in protest, but that's never stopped him before, then again he's never done this to the guitarist before, but something in that little outfit, in the other man's attitude brought out the beast in him, and it will not be caged. He is ruthless, some part of him knows the Swede will have trouble walking after he's done, but he couldn't care less.
Teeth sink into white flesh, and bruises bloom red under the skin. Backs arch, and muscles tense, the world seems to be going in slow motion. The blonde can feel everything, the pounding of his own heart, the hot danger scented breath of the other man against his skin, the nails digging into his skin, guaranteed to leave yet more bruises on him, every inch of the other man's massive cock sliding in and out of him, winding him tighter, driving him towards the edge of madness.
He knows he's not going to last long. Nathan is going to explode him, and god he wants it. Being fucked by this beautiful monster of a man is too perfect, too exquisitely brutal for words. He screams again, the sound echoing against the stones, calling out the other man's name. Sex is war for the moment, as bodies clash together. Nathan makes low guttural animal sounds, scratching down the other man's back, seeming bent on tearing him to shreds, and Skwisgaar loves it, cries tears of bliss.
Nathan doesn't intend to slow down, doesn't intend to stop, even if he wanted to the animal in him wouldn't allow him, not with the blonde under him writhing in such beautiful desperation. He loves him like this, loves taking away the other man's self control, taking away his capacity to do anything but be fucked for a moment, loves seeing him utterly, perfectly helpless under him.
This is pleasure beyond pleasure, his body hums like a guitar string, Nathan's every move reverberating through him. His entire body is electrified, sensitive to the slightest touch and he can't take much more. He's going to lose it, unable to hold back anymore, the last vestige of his self control strained to its tearing point.
"Nat'ans, I's goings to comes!" he sobs, bucking his slim hips, "please Na'tans," he manages before slipping into Swedish, babbling nonsense in a breathy whimper.
Nathan goes faster if that's possible, one big hand wrapping around the Swede's cock, slamming into him at blinding speed. Pleasure swells, every muscle in his body tenses, shuddering as if he'll break apart and it's too much, blue eyes shut and he screams, losing himself to Nathan, spilling between them and shaking violently, muscles clenching on the raven haired man's cock. Nathan follows, the sight of the blonde too much and he comes, roaring his primal pleasure roar, and thrusting in a few final times before he collapses a panting, smirking, sweaty wreck atop the other.
The Swede pants, shaking for a few moments more before seeming to come back to himself.
"Fuckings hells," he gasps.
"Yeah," murmurs Nate, grinning.