Sheet Music

Rating: R, possibly NC 17, not sure
Category: AU
Pairing(s): None really. I mean they’re not officially a pair.
Warnings: PWP
Summary: Just a warm and fuzzy lazy day.
Notes: Rock legend has it that the Rolling Stones, during one of their tours, had a tour vehicle with a gigantic bed in it. Allegedly this was so the band would have a place to sleep that was large enough that they would not intrude on each other’s personal space. Mick Jagger supposedly once said of the bed; “It’s still not big enough for me, Keith, Keith’s dog and Keith’s dog’s breath.” Whether it’s true or not is up for debate, but assuming it is, I figure if the Stones have a monster bed, then Dethklok would have to have a bigger one.

Nathan was awakened by someone climbing around on the bed. There was the slightest touch of a breast across his nose, and the sound of a female voice quietly muttering.

“Where the hell is it?”

“If you’re looking for my dick it’s further down,” said Nathan.

The woman kissed his nose. “Good morning, Mr. Explosion. Did we have a nice night?”

“I don’t remember.”

He opened one eye and looked at the very pretty woman; model thin, model pretty, with perfect make-up and short hair dyed a stylish dark purple. She was wearing a short black skirt, expensive tinted glasses with rhinestones in the frame, and a collection of necklaces of varying lengths around her neck. He had known her for around two years. Her name was Patty, and she was one of the few music magazine photographers who wasn’t overtly scared to death of the five guys who made up Dethklok. Patty had long ago figured out “her guys” were all bark and very little bite. Her lack of intimidation made her a frequent visitor as magazines hired her to get candid shots of the band, often going to their home and observe them in their natural habitat. The guys loved her because she had a wonderful sense of humour and made them look like gods. She loved them because she could see them for the over-grown kids they were, and the photos they allowed her to take kept her in designer clothes and expensive automobiles.

Nathan ran a hand over his face. “Patty what are you looking for?”

“Deddy Bear.” She crawled over Nathan towards a lump in the bed. The lump swore in Swedish. She pulled down the covers and kissed another nose. “Well hello beautiful.”

Skwisgaar said something back that required little translation. She stroked the tangled blonde hair and climbed to another area, still searching and not finding what she sought. Frustrated, she sat up.

“What do you need a bed this big for, anyway?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” mumbled Nathan.

“No.”

Toki came in, chewing something and in full concert dress. “Patty an’s I are goings to zoo.”

“Oh yeah?” said Nathan. “What exhibit are they leaving you in?”

“Oh, so funny Tokis is forgets to laugh.” He climbed onto the bed and over Nathan in quest of his bear.

“We’re getting some shots of Toki with the pythons and tigers,” said Patty. “Should look good.” She sighed. “Toki do you really need the bear, hon?”

“Ja I is.”

“Okay. We’ll find it.”

Skwisgaar reached out of the pile of blankets and pulled something down from a shelf. Toki pounced on it. Patty sighed in relief.

“Good, now let’s get going, we’re late.” She began backing off the enormous bed, pausing to kiss Skwisgaar, then Nathan. “Later guys.”

Toki watched her get off the bed, then did the same as she had, kissing Skwisgaar first and then Nathan. There were grumbles and mumbles, then Skwisgaar raised his head.

“Hey Patty, why you not stays a while?”

“No, thank you,” she said, the distaste evident in her voice as she tripped over a discarded beer bottle. “What were you guys doing last night? There are at least six pairs of panties on the floor.”

“That’s what we were doing last night,” said Nathan.

“Ofdensen ought to have you two neutered. Well see you guys later. Some of us have to work for a living.”

“Work?” said Skwisgaar, yawning. “What’s dat?”

“Come on, Toki,” said Patty, taking his arm. “We’ll call child protective services and have you taken out of this environment before it warps you.”

“Awww… buts I wanted to see da snakes!”

“Sweetie, are you really that dumb?”

Long pause as Toki blinked at her with large blue eyes. Patty sighed. “Never mind. Come on, hon.”

She pulled out her camera and snapped off a couple shots of Skwisgaar and Nathan in all their rumpled, hung-over glory. Skwisgaar sat up, looking like hell, one eye open, Patty’s dark plum lipstick on his nose. She laughed.

“Skwis, you’re beautiful.”

He beckoned her closer with one long hand. “You is comes here. I makes you first photograph lady founds tied up and dyes orange in tour bus.”

“I’d love to stay, gorgeous, but I promised Toki a look at the tigers.” She blew him a kiss. “Bye bye.”

“Bye,” mumbled Nathan.

Skwisgaar flopped backwards with a thud. Patty and Toki left. There was the sound of the door to the gigantic tour bus being locked, and all was briefly silent.

“You have lipstick on your nose,” said Nathan.

“Ja ans you has its on yours.”

“Screw it.” Nathan rolled over and looked towards the far end of the bed where Skwisgaar lay. “What did we do last night?”

“I has nots idea. I is too comfy too cares.”

It was a comfortable bed. Very comfortable. Especially after a long night of drinking and carrying on. Nathan settled under the covers and closed his eyes, drifting off once more. The bus was silent. Murderface and Pickles were haunting the music shops, Ofdensen was visiting family, and the hordes of reporters, groupies, fans, and other life forms were down at the hotel, assuming Dethklok were there. After all, who would sleep on a bus when they had a perfectly nice hotel room? Except the Dethvan was better than any hotel room. It was a converted eighteen wheel big rig, complete with kitchen, bathroom, hot tub, plasma TV, stereo, and, of course, the bed. It had been purposely made huge, the equivalent of six king-sized beds. The idea was to have a large place for tired musicians to flop without intruding on each other’s personal space. Certainly there was not enough room for five bedrooms. But the bed was big enough and comfortable enough that the squabbles were few and far between. Bodies were frequently lost in the decadent softness, and only the frame that was fashioned to look like black-painted bone and the curtains that looked like rotted mesh prevented it from being regarded as “not metal”. The Dethbed was very metal. It also took up so much space that an upper level had been made over it, freeing up space for a sitting area.

The day wore on, Nathan and Skwisgaar snoring comfortably. Occasionally the sun would change position to peek in through the windows and shine in Skwisgaar’s eyes, waking him up. Then he would have to shift over to where the sun could not find him, and where the bedding was cooler. Skwisgaar had just edged himself out of the sun’s reach once more when Nathan got up, leaving the bed and heading for the bathroom. He returned shortly, smelling of toothpaste and fruit-flavoured anti-nausea liquid.

“Yous okay?” Skwisgaar asked drowsily.

“Better out than in,” said Nathan.

“Ja dat’s the truth.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Nots bad.”

Nathan got back into the huge bed, settling under the black velvet and silk quilts with their repeating black widow pattern. Once more there was silence, disrupted only by the quiet whisper of the automated air purifier coming on. The soft gust blew a few wisps of hair across Skwisgaar’s face. Nathan reached out and gently moved the blonde stands aside. Startled, Skwisgaar raised his head.

“Sorry,” said Nathan quietly.

Skwisgaar blinked, as if processing what had happened, then placed his head down on the pillow again.

“Is okay,” he said softly.

Nathan closed his eyes, briefly, then opened them again, looking at Skwisgaar. He was on his side, facing him, breathing quietly, more asleep than awake. Without realizing he was about to, he reached out his hand and again touched the soft golden hair. He yanked his hand back abruptly. What the hell was the matter with him?

“Sorry,” he said, “can’t seem to keep my damn hands to myself.”

Skwisgaar made an amused sound. He edged closer; nothing too overt, but suggesting perhaps he didn’t mind. Nathan cautiously reached out once more, finding warm flesh. He gently trailed his finger tips over Skwisgaar’s sinewy, muscled arm. Skwisgaar simply lay as he had, nestled deep in the soft bed, relaxed and quiet, letting Nathan explore at his own pace. Nathan edged a little closer so he could run his hand over Skwisgaar’s side. He was tall, and slim, but he was solid muscle. Nathan had never touched a man this way before. It was different from the women he had been with, and he had been with everything from the strained silicon perfection of models to women who seemed determined to convert themselves into a water bed. There was a physical hardness to Skwisgaar’s body that he’d never felt before. He knew women seemed to like the way his own body felt. Nathan frequently ended up with the pint-sized groupies because they liked how “solid” he was. He had never really understood that, but now, touching Skwisgaar, that was the word that came to mind. Solid.

“Is… I mean… am I bothering you?”

“No.”

There was a softness in his voice Nathan hadn’t heard before. Definite invitation. He moved closer still, so that they were nose to nose. He slowly ran his hand over Skwisgaar’s body, caressing him, lost in the feel of him…

“I have no idea why I am doing this,” he said.

“Does it matter?”

“Guess not.”

Nathan continued caressing him, exploring him, fascinated by the feel of muscle and bone and skin, the power in the long serpentine body. What would it be like to have that power under him..?

“Skwisgaar? You ever done this before?”

“Ja, lots of times.”

“With a man?”

Small amused laugh. “Ja, lots of times.”

“I never knew.”

“I don’ts advertise. Is no one’s business but Skwisgaar’s.” Skwisgaar moved closer, his body language different than usual; almost submissive. He placed a hand on Nathan’s face, and gently kissed him. “I only lets my best friends knows abouts this.”

Nathan had no idea what it was about hearing Skwisgaar say that, but he suddenly wanted him, badly.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Skwisgaar kissed him again. “Is okay. I shows you.”

He drew him close, kissing him, submissive but definitely the one in control. One long hand snaked its way down to find and clasp Nathan’s penis. He paused as he found it, and broke off the kiss.

“What?” asked Nathan.

“You has dis weapon registered? You coulds hurt somebody.”

“Well it does go off sometimes when I clean it.”

“I is being surprised you is still having two eyes. You could shoot one out.”

Nathan kissed him. “I want you.”

“You is having me, buts you needs be careful. You tears me up inside, what we dos become everybody’s business.”

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Skwisgaar kissed him. “Then makes love to me.”

****

Pickles pulled open the door to the Dethvan and climbed inside the formidable vehicle. Behind him came Murderface, who was in the best mood he had been in a long time, the reason being his new custom-made bass. Once inside he laid the case on the hardwood dining table and opened it.

“Look at that baby,” he drooled.

“Yeah it’s a great bass,” said Pickles.

“Great?! Just great?! It’s fantashtic! I think I’ll have an orgashm in my pantsh jusht looking at it!”

Pickles made a face. “I’d really rather you didn’t.” He looked around as Murderface took out the bass, anxious to get his hands on it. “Wonder where everyone is?”

Murderface shrugged, but stopped playing as both he and Pickles both heard a low growling sound.

“Sounds like Nathan’s busy in the bedroom,” said Pickles.

Murderface curled his lip. “Yeah good for him, Mishter Lead Fucking Shinger. He getsh all the girlsh.”

“You’d get some too if you weren’t s’damn ugly.”

“I’m not ugly! I’m facially impaired.”

Pickles laughed uproariously. Murderface grinned despite himself. In the back, they could hear that low, reverberating growl that meant Nathan was getting laid. Murderface set down his new bass.

“Turn on the TV or shomething, no one wantsh to hear that.”

Pickles nodded, and was reaching for the remote when he heard something that gave him pause. A soft cry he knew far too well from endless recording sessions. He looked in the direction of the bed chamber.

“Was that Skwisgaar?”

“No,” said Murderface dismissively. He was brought up short by a louder version of the same breathy cry.

“Pretty sure that’s Skwisgaar,” said Pickles.

“Are they with the shame girl?” said Murderface. “That’sh dishgusting!”

“And you wish you’d thought of it.”

“GAWD no, how can you even think shomething like that? Augh, nexsht to another guy all shweaty and moaning and… hard!”

Pickles raised an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like you think about it a lot.”

“I do NOT!”

Pickles just smiled, then listened. “I wonder who they’re with?”

“Ooh bet itsh that Lee Anne, she ish sure built for comfort.”

“No I’m pretty sure Lee Anne had to split, she said something about…” Pickles paused, eyes becoming large. “Uh, Murderface? Did… did you hear that?”

“God I hope not.”

The pair listened, not wanting to, unable to stop. They could hear Nathan, growling, speaking softly. He was a quiet lover; they’d all heard each other in the throes of passion at some time or other on tour. Well, except for Toki. Groupies just scared him. Skwisgaar was normally quiet as well, but this… this was not normal Skwisgaar-having-sex sounds. This was Skwisgaar-coming-totally-unravelled sounds. And he either did not know or did not care anyone was in the trailer because he was getting louder. He was gasping and panting and getting much more vocal than was normal for him.

The door opened and Ofdensen walked in. He paused as he noticed Pickles and Murderface standing transfixed, listening. He was about to ask just what they were listening to when he heard a loud long gasp, and then a strange throaty cry, like something off a Led Zeppelin album. Ofdensen quietly closed the door, puzzled.

“Is that…?”

Murderface had his hands over his mouth in horror. Pickles was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He nodded.

“Yeah that’s Nathan fucking Skwisgaar.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well I don’t hear no third party.”

“I’m gonna be shick,” said Muderface, his voice strained.

They listened, making eye contact as Skwisgaar let loose with a long wailing cry and a lot of impassioned Swedish. They didn’t understand any of it other than one word, uttered clearly and at maximum volume.

“NATHAN!”

“Huh. Son of a gun,” said Ofdensen.

Skwisgaar screamed and howled and turned the air scarlet with passion and profanity. It seemed to go on a long time, and there were a few screams of torment. Then there was a sound like something from a satanic tiger, and Nathan laughed.

“Okay. This better?”

More Swedish. Ofdensen and Pickles exchanged glances once more.

“I’m almost tempted to go see what he’s doing to him,” said Pickles.

“Strangely enough so am I,” said Ofdensen.

Murderface gagged. “Why would you want to shee THAT?!”

Pickles shrugged. They both flinched as Skwisgaar hit a note more commonly heard from female opera singers, followed by what only could be described as a wailing sob, and then pleading. Ofdensen took a step forward, intending to find out if Skwisgaar was okay, but Pickles caught his arm and drew him back.

“They’re okay,” he said quietly.

“How can you be certain?”

Pickles shook his head. “Nathan wouldn’t hurt Skwisgaar.”

Skwisgaar uttered a despairing howl, and they heard Nathan speaking softly to him, comforting him. The cries died down briefly, then started up again, only this time they were sharper, more rhythmic. There was more Swedish screaming, followed by the sound of Nathan grunting and swearing. There was a long, intense silence wherein the listeners could practically hear the shuddering of the lovers’ bodies and the release of passion. Then there was a long sigh, and the soft rustle of bodies collapsing to the bed. They could hear Nathan’s low, coarse voice speaking softly to Skwisgaar, and Skwisgaar quietly answering. Then there was silence. Pickles looked at Ofdensen once more.

“Is there anything in the band contract that says band members can’t fuck each other?”

“No,” said Ofdensen. “Why?”

“I think I wanna be next.”

Ofdensen patted him on the shoulder. “That’s very nice, Pickles, thank you for letting me know that.”

It was about forty minutes later that Nathan came out of the bedroom, wearing only a bathrobe. He walked like he was ninety. Saying nothing he headed for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, then went to the bathroom to soak in the tub. Once the door was locked and the water was running Ofdensen and Pickles scooted into the bedroom like a couple of kids wanting a peek at their Christmas presents. They entered the room, and saw only the rumpled covers. They had to search a while to find Skwisgaar. When they located him he was sunk deep into the bedding, sound asleep. Pickles took hold of one hand and raised it up, then released it. The hand dropped to the mattress with a final-sounding thud.

“Wow,” said Pickles. “He’s unconscious.”

“Is he still breathing?”

“Yeah I think so. Jeez Christ what did he do to him?!”

Ofdensen lowered his head to make sure Skwisgaar was breathing, then got off the gigantic bed.

“I don’t know, and I think I’m scared.”

They left the bedroom, heading into the common area. Murderface was quietly playing his new bass.

“Well? Ish he alive?”

“Yeah, he’s alive,” said Pickles. “He’s unconscious, but he’s alive.”

Murderface’s eyes grew large. “Holy shit.”

They looked up as Nathan briefly exited the bathroom to fetch something. He was clad only in a towel, and as he turned his back to them they saw long bleeding rents carved into the flesh, evidence of Skwisgaar’s passion. Nathan found what he sought and returned to the bathroom, closing and locking the door once more. Pickles, Murderface and Ofdensen stared, jaws hanging.

“My turn next,” said Pickles.