Metalocalypse Drabble Challenge #24
Jan. 3rd, 2008 06:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsPrompt: Voyeurism
Pairing: Skwisgaar/Groupies, Skwisgaar/Toki, Klokateer/Dethklok
Skwisgaar Skwigelf had no concept of shame. Most of Dethklok lacked decency but the Swedish guitarist certainly took it further than the rest of them. After all, even Pickles – who was clearly either too drunk or too damn bored to care – at least kept his underwear on…most of the time. But Skwisgaar, when he didn’t feel like wearing clothes, went around completely in flagrante delecto, as they say in Italian. Or stark fucking naked if one prefers Dethklok’s usual ‘For fuck’s sake, Skwisgaar, nobody wants to seen that thing’ language. Number 492 could handle the nudity. Honestly, with how long he’d managed to survive in Mordhaus, he was almost immune to it.
Skwisgaar also had a bad habit of making his own porno - sans camera, lights, director, and anything else – whenever and wherever the need struck him. This, the band muttered about as they alternately watched or grudgingly picked their way around the scene, was no doubt a product of his upbringing and Serveta’s insanely promiscuous nature. It was no surprise the groupies went along with it; groupies would do anything they asked. But no one needed to see the Swede plowing into fans who had to weigh at least four hundred pounds or resembled Murderface’s grandmother. That was enough to put the rest of them off sex for a good half hour. 492 watched the sexcapades with a jaundiced eye and quietly savored the few instances of solo, world’s fastest fingers stroking over one impressive length of Swedish sausage, pleasure that Skwisgaar was equally unashamed about performing in public.
492 harbored no illusions about Skwisgaar’s insatiable sexual appetite. He never indulged in late night fantasies about the tall blond guitarist stopping him in a dark Mordhaus hallway, lifting off the black hood that kept him even more anonymous than his number, and taking him against the rough, cold stone. Skwisgaar, despite rumors to the contrary, had never shown any inclination towards men and 492 was content with the multitude of heterosexual encounters he had seen and would no doubt continue to stumble across.
All that changed late one night at the end of his shift when he was headed back for his bunk in the employee dormitory. A throaty moan caught his attention and the low chuckle that followed kept it. 492 knew that laugh, knew it as well as his number. That was Skwisgaar’s lusty, happy laugh; the one that only came when he was getting exactly what he wanted. There was no way 492 could resist and he quietly crept around the corner to the half-open door to one of the recording booths. And froze in shock.
Chiseled abs, a bitten lower lip, wide icy-blue eyes, and a dick that was fatter, although not longer than Skwisgaar’s. 492 watched silently from the shadows as Toki sank the rest of the way onto Skwisgaar’s cock and stayed until semen coated the Swede’s hand. That night, filled with unexpected yearning, it was a different Scandinavian in his dreams.
Pairing: Skwisgaar/Groupies, Skwisgaar/Toki, Klokateer/Dethklok
Skwisgaar Skwigelf had no concept of shame. Most of Dethklok lacked decency but the Swedish guitarist certainly took it further than the rest of them. After all, even Pickles – who was clearly either too drunk or too damn bored to care – at least kept his underwear on…most of the time. But Skwisgaar, when he didn’t feel like wearing clothes, went around completely in flagrante delecto, as they say in Italian. Or stark fucking naked if one prefers Dethklok’s usual ‘For fuck’s sake, Skwisgaar, nobody wants to seen that thing’ language. Number 492 could handle the nudity. Honestly, with how long he’d managed to survive in Mordhaus, he was almost immune to it.
Skwisgaar also had a bad habit of making his own porno - sans camera, lights, director, and anything else – whenever and wherever the need struck him. This, the band muttered about as they alternately watched or grudgingly picked their way around the scene, was no doubt a product of his upbringing and Serveta’s insanely promiscuous nature. It was no surprise the groupies went along with it; groupies would do anything they asked. But no one needed to see the Swede plowing into fans who had to weigh at least four hundred pounds or resembled Murderface’s grandmother. That was enough to put the rest of them off sex for a good half hour. 492 watched the sexcapades with a jaundiced eye and quietly savored the few instances of solo, world’s fastest fingers stroking over one impressive length of Swedish sausage, pleasure that Skwisgaar was equally unashamed about performing in public.
492 harbored no illusions about Skwisgaar’s insatiable sexual appetite. He never indulged in late night fantasies about the tall blond guitarist stopping him in a dark Mordhaus hallway, lifting off the black hood that kept him even more anonymous than his number, and taking him against the rough, cold stone. Skwisgaar, despite rumors to the contrary, had never shown any inclination towards men and 492 was content with the multitude of heterosexual encounters he had seen and would no doubt continue to stumble across.
All that changed late one night at the end of his shift when he was headed back for his bunk in the employee dormitory. A throaty moan caught his attention and the low chuckle that followed kept it. 492 knew that laugh, knew it as well as his number. That was Skwisgaar’s lusty, happy laugh; the one that only came when he was getting exactly what he wanted. There was no way 492 could resist and he quietly crept around the corner to the half-open door to one of the recording booths. And froze in shock.
Chiseled abs, a bitten lower lip, wide icy-blue eyes, and a dick that was fatter, although not longer than Skwisgaar’s. 492 watched silently from the shadows as Toki sank the rest of the way onto Skwisgaar’s cock and stayed until semen coated the Swede’s hand. That night, filled with unexpected yearning, it was a different Scandinavian in his dreams.
