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“C'mon, Nate. I'm wet enough.”
The hand petting between the red head drummer's legs retreated, and gingerly touched his stomach. “Are you sure you wanna do this, Pickles?” asked Nathan, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” the redhead replied, leaning back on his forearms and flashing Nathan a devious grin. He splayed open his legs, exposing his blushing pussy to the man before him. “Really badly.” Pickles was the only one completely naked, but he kinda liked it that way. Made him feel real slutty, just the way he liked it.
“Okay...” he turned away from the bed to address the others, who had already pulled their cocks out of their pants and began absently jerking off. “Listen if any one of you douchebags come in him I swear to god I will rip your dicks off.” They froze and nodded, lowering their eyes.
He hovered over Pickles, cupping his face with big meaty hands. “Remember, you're mine. I'm letting these guys use you, but you still belong to me. Okay?”
“Alright Nate'n, sheesh,” he complained, but planted a kiss on the frontman's mouth. “Don't worry about me. Enjoy yourself.”
Nathan sat back on his haunches and rubbed Pickles' thigh, pale and littered with freckles. Skwisgaar wrapped his arms around Nathan's neck and carded through the former's dark hair. “How ams we gonna choose who gets to goes firsts?”
“I want Nate'n to be last. 'Sides that, I don't really care. Rock-paper-scissors or somethin'.”
“Moidaface should go first, since he ams so quicks to gets off!”
“What the fuck Toki? Just throw me under the fucking busch, why don't you.”
“Toki means well,” Pickles replied, playfully nudging Murderface's thigh with the balls of his feet. “Come on over big boy.” He then turned over on his stomach, his face resting against the mattress of Nathan's giant bed and his knees bent, so that his backside was up and waving slightly, just to goad on Murderface.
The bassist's eyes lit up, and with a huge grin nearly splitting his face in half, made his way to Pickles' waiting ass. He reached down to press a finger to Pickles' mouth, who gladly sucked the digit in, coating it with saliva before biting down. Murderface yelped a bit more higher pitched than he would've liked, and the others couldn't help but chuckle at that. In response, the bassist laid a flat-handed slap right on the fleshy ass of the drummer. “No biting! We've been over thisch!”
“Fu-u-u-uck...” Pickles sighed, relishing the sting. Although he claimed he had no favorites when it came to bedroom matters, he would willingly admit that Murderface gave the best spankings out of any of them. But before he could say anything more, Murderface deftly sank both a wet finger into Pickles' ass, and his thick length into the drummer's pussy, letting out a groan as he did.
“After alls dis time, Pickle am stills so tight...” murmured Toki, one hand on his cock, and the other caressing the skin of their drummer's back, across the shoulder blades, and then down his spine, causing the latter to shudder, still impaled by Murderface. The bassist was frozen in place; he savored the sensation of Pickles' velvety walls around his cock, exhaling sharply through his nose.
“Don't keep him waiting, Murderface,” Nathan barked.
“Ja, you keeps him waitinks, you keeps us waitinks.”
“Lay off dudes, he's probably gonna spurt already,” Pickles smirked, propping himself up on his hands and craning his neck to look at the man in question. “Isn't that right, Willy? Ya gonna fuckin' cum in me already, huh?”
The bassist growled, and delivered a few more smacks with the hand that wasn't thrusting into the smaller man's ass. “Owwwwww fuck,” Pickles gasped. “Yeah, get fuckin' rough with me.”
“Gets rough withs him Moidaface!”
“I could do without the cheerleading, thank you,” Murderface sneered, and grinded into Pickles, eliciting a low groan from him.
“Gawd, that feels great dude, keep goin',” he moaned, shifting his weight so that he could reach a hand in between his legs and touch his clit. “Nghnnn...”
Murderface pounded into him relentlessly, his girthy cock filling Pickles up deliciously and his thick finger rubbed against the inner walls of his ass, stretching the smaller man for the others to watch. Toki apparently got bored of just watching, however, and maneuvered in front of Pickles, prodding his aching erection against the drummer's lips.
“Please Pickle?” he whispered.
Pickles obediently took Toki in, gazing up at the rhythm guitarist half-lidded as he slurped around the length.
“Good boy,” whimpered Toki, his hips stuttering, thrusting shallowly into Pickles' open mouth.
“Couldn't wait your fucking turn, asschole?” Murderface grunted, pulling his fingers out of the drummer's ass and spreading his cheeks to admire his handwork. He used the new-found leverage of Pickles' ass cheeks to piston in and out of the smaller man's pussy, causing Pickles to cry out when Murderface brushed up against a particularly sensitive spot inside him.
Murderface fucked like he played the bass, thought Pickles, panting around the boner resting on his tongue. Deep and relentless and brutal , but it wasn't long before he'd —
“Jesus, Mary, and cock-schucking Joseph!” Murderface shouted, pulling his dick out of Pickles and coming on his back.
“...Wow. Dats was four wholes minutes,” said Skwisgaar blankly. “A news record, I t'ink?”
Pickles pulled off of Toki with a wet slurp, and sat up to kiss Murderface, who looked simultaneously spent and shameful. “Don't even worry dude,” he smiled, “That was intense. Yer cock is fuckin' great. Yer fuckin' great.” Murderface blushed and kissed Pickles back, his hands hovering over his body like someone who didn't just get done fucking him.
“I do play bassch with it.”
“Barely,” huffed someone.
Murderface gave him the finger, and then got off the bed, tucking himself back into his shorts. “Fine Toki, you greedy little schit. It's your turn.”
“I dont t'inks dis guy even gets a turn!” argued Skwisgaar, pointing an accusing finger at Toki. “He makes Pickle into the t'ing whats cavemens cooks de meats on!” He gesticulated in a way that could be percieved as lewd.
The language barrier had them all briefly confused. “...Ya mean a spitroast?” The drummer tried not to laugh; Skwisgaar could get his ego hurt fairly easily in the bedroom, and Pickles wasn't about to miss out on some mind-blowing oral sex that only Skwisgaar was capable of.
“Ja! Dats was his turn!
“Technically,” offered Nathan, “if he didn't blow his load, he didn't finish his turn.” Toki blew a raspberry at the Swede. “Whats the verdict, Pickles?”
The drummer opened his mouth, displaying a tongue distinctly free of ejaculate.
“Alls right!”
Skwisgaar was beginning to get a little worked up. He wasn't very used to having to wait for pussy. “But whats if he swalloweds it? Cheatinks! Dis ams a fuckings tyranny!”
While the Scandinavians bickered like children, and Nathan and Murderface were busy trying to settle them down, Pickles chuckled to himself, scooting down the bed so that he could lay with his legs dangling off the edge. Lying on his back, he took each of his breasts in hand and traced his fingers over his nipples. For whatever reason, his lovers tended to shy away from his chest; maybe they thought stimulating him there would bring up nasty feelings of dysphoria, but in all honesty, when it came to sex, the red head really enjoyed his tits. Pickles cleared his throat, and garnered Nathan's attention, who paused in his attempts to pull the fighting guitarists apart, and made eye contact with the drummer. The latter made a kissy face with his hands full of boob, causing the former to smile back, his eyes soft and dark.
Pickles shivered hard.
Murderface had Skwisgaar in a full nelson, keeping him from swatting at the brunet. “Hold your fucking horsesch, you're after Toki anyways. Scheesh!”
The blond wriggled out of the bassist's grip, and sat down on the bed, legs and arms crossed defiantly. “I don't sees why de rhythms guitarist gets a turns before I's do...” he muttered.
Toki stood at the edge of the bed between the drummer's spread legs, stroking his wilting erection back to life. “Pickle,” he asked quietly, as if he didn't want the others to overhear. “Can you tucks in your knees for me?
Less agile than he was a decade ago, he hooked his hands behind his knees and pulled them slowly against his chest, or rather, as close as they would go. Pickles winced slightly at the stretch. He'd have to talk to Offdensen about yoga lessons if this arrangement were to continue. “We gonna do this missionary?”
“...Ja,” he replied sheepishly.
“No problemo, kid.”
“Yawn.”
Toki whipped his head around to shout at the offending heckler. “Aren'ts you homos busy jerkin's each other off or somet'ing?!” Skwisgaar leaned his head back against the headboard, and gave Toki the finger.
Nathan was off the bed entirely, opting to sit on a chair across the room and watch, like a Viking warlord on his throne. Now that was a fucking sexy mental image, Pickles noted. “Nah. I'm saving it for a very special someone. Right, babe?” he called out.
“Yew know it!” laughed Pickles.
Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. “Comes here William,” he grumbled, “Gives me de blow jobs while I waits for my turn.” Murderface looked scandalized, his eyes wide and face flushed, but he retreated to the lead guitarist's lap nonetheless.
Toki refocused his attention to the man beneath him, cradling one of his calves as if it was a piece of fine china, his hands running up and down the leg before pulling Pickles' foot up to his face. The sensation of Toki's mustache brushing against his arch tickled something awful, but the intensity in how the guitarist nuzzled his foot kept him from pulling away. “I've been usin' this Japanese skin cream. Yew like it?”
“Mmmmm,” hummed Toki, sniffling and mouthing the soft skin there like a hungry animal. He kept Pickles foot to his face with one hand, and with the other, guided his dick inside the drummer. Toki whined against the balls of Pickles' feet as he slid into his cunt inch by inch. The redhead sighed and pressed his toes against the guitarist's lips, who gladly sucked them in. “Ah,” breathed Pickles, canting his hips. “Yer so big, Toki. I dunno if I can take it all.” He could. Both of them knew he was just bluffing for dirty talk's sake, but it still managed to rile up everyone in the room, who looked like they'd just been clubbed in the head. Despite how they tried to hide it, it was no secret to Pickles that his lovers each had a thing for size difference. All eyes were on him and Toki, including Murderface who had detached himself from Skwisgaar's dick to rest his cheek on the lead guitarist's thigh, watching the action at hand while fondling himself. Even Nathan was palming himself through his jeans. Pickles felt a wave of satisfaction flush over him, burning hotly from his face to his pussy, which was being thoroughly fucked by the Norwegian. The positive attention felt almost as good as the dick ramming into him.
Almost.
Warmth was beginning to build in his stomach, and his clit absolutely ached. “T-toki...I might...I think I'm gonna...” he announced a little too loudly. “Shit...” From the way Toki had Pickles' legs positioned so that he could suckle and nuzzle his feet, the drummer had no access to his clit, and his orgasm felt so close and yet so far. He whined and grabbed at the sheets beneath him, frustrated. He closed his eyes against the maddening sensation, and he could hear the huffing and puffing of the men around him, obviously turned on by his inability to come.
“Are you gonna spurt, Picklesch?” Murderface asked mischievously.
“Yeah, you're getting pretty red.”
“Fuck off, I'm very Irish-American,” Pickles groaned. “And you all know...ngh, fuck...I can't if I'm not touched...y'know...down there.”
Nathan contemplated this fact for a moment before replying, “Don't do it Toki. Don't let him come.” Of course Toki would listen; those were the rules. He slowed down his thrusts to a infuriating pace, barely pulling out of his pussy, fucking him deep and slow, moaning and licking his lips.
“Fu-u-uck Nathan, please,” Pickles sniveled, wanton. He was blessed with the ability to have multiple orgasms, so it wasn't often that he was made to wait to have one. Apparently, Nathan felt like switching it up a bit. Normally Pickles wouldn't complain about spontaneity if it weren't at his expense. The tension in his pelvic region was dense and throbbing, and the feeling of Toki inside him, filling him up to what felt like the brim made him feel like he was going to cry.
Just before Pickles felt like he was going come regardless, Toki pulled out and gripped his balls, panting. “Quick, Pickle. I'ms gonna come. Can I?” he asked, sitting back on his haunches and pulling Pickles feet down and towards his cock. Pickles nodded, nearly breathless at the loss of sensation. Toki stroked himself against Pickles' feet until he was coming with a foreign shout, his load spurting between his toes and down his ankles.
Pickles felt way too hot, his cunt swollen and dripping absolutely lewdly , and his hair most likely a fucking rats' nest of dreads. “God damn,” he breathed, “that was hot. In a weird way.”
“You could schay that again.”
Skwisgaar agreed, hesitantly. “Erotiskism in de way onlies de Europeans cans accomplish.” He waved Toki away, who looked as if he was gonna pass out, and went to go sit criss-cross on the floor, propped against Nathan's legs. “And speakings of erotiskisms...” The Swede smiled lecherously and beckoned the drummer over with one finger. Pickles rolled his eyes. He was always one for theatrics in the bedroom. He supposed that after screwing about a million sluts, you'd have to find some way to spice things up. Pickles straddled Skwisgaar's thighs, taking his dick in hand and jerking him with short, fast strokes. The guitarist caught his wrist and pulled it off, shaking his head with a tsk tsk tsk . “ Dis amn'ts about me. I knows you needs to come, so dats what you ams gonna do.”
Pickles didn't quite appreciate how he used the voice he fucked groupies with, but it was undeniable that the throatiness of his tone really got him going. “How d'ya want me then?”
“Sits on my face,” he murmured. Pickles jolted like he'd stuck his finger in a power outlet.
“Okay, that really takesch the cake,” Murderface announced, and Nathan agreed, his dick now out of his pants and brushing against his lower stomach. Pickles licked his lips, and tried not to think about it. Not yet, anyways. It was Skwisgaar's turn.
“I think you just totally one-upped Toki. And you haven't even done anything yet!” Nathan exclaimed. “WOW. What a gift.”
“Well screws you all off!”
Pickles moved up the Swede's body, his knees positioned on either side of Skwisgaar's neck, and his pussy clenched in anticipation. Skwisgaar's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas. “Ja, Pickle, dats it. Comes gives me some sugars,” he purred.
The drummer felt sort of weird putting any weight on Skwisgaar's face, and so he gingerly rested his pussy lips against the guitarist's mouth, using his knees and shins to keep him from actually sitting down. Skwisgaar apparently wasn't having any of this, and pushed down on Pickles' hips, so that his weight was settled down onto the Swede's face. The red head wondered if he was actually able to breathe. Maybe it was somewhat like playing bagpipes. He honestly hoped Skwisgaar wasn't breathing through his cunt like some Scottish instrument. But before he could say anything, Skwisgaar's lips and tongue were suddenly there , kissing and lapping at his lips and clit. The drummer felt dizzy, his hips bearing down and twitching into the feeling of a practiced tongue, sliding in and around. “I'm already gonna come, Skwis. Gawd, you're so fuckin' good...”
In response, one of Skwisgaar's fingers swiped from Pickle's pussy back to his asshole, still gaping slightly from Murderface's earlier ministrations, and wriggled in past the muscle. Pickles covered his face and sobbed, the feeling of his clit being sucked and his ass full was almost too much. He could definitely feel the guitarist smile into his pussy. He was already so close . When teeth barely brushed his lips and the finger in his ass curled just so , Pickles howled, the tight coil in his lower stomach bursting without any warning, sending shock waves through his cunt, clenching around the tongue and finger inside him. “ Shit Skwisgaar, fu-u-uck yeaahhhhh... ” he moaned, boneless. He just then noticed that Skwisgaar was totally getting off on it too, the hand that wasn't still playing with Pickles' ass was wrapped in a tight ring around his own dick, jerking himself off and cooing into the soft flesh at the top of the drummer's thighs. Pickles dismounted the blond's face, and kneeled on the bed beside him, still throbbing, his skin feverish from his climax.
“Hey. Dude. Look at me.” The drummer cupped Skwisgaar's face, and the latter turned his head into the delicate touch, his eyebrows knitting, and his normally-princely face screwing up in a half grimace, half smile. He opened his eyes, pupils blown and nearly obscuring his icy blue irises, and met Pickles' stare. The red head placed a hand on top of Skwisgaar's, and moved his hand in time with the Swede, speeding up the pace in which he stroked himself off. With the unoccupied hand, he used to fingers to rub his clit at the same time. Within a few moments of their terribly intimate eye contact, Skwisgaar climaxed with a hitched breath, much quieter than either of the men before him. Pickles leaned his forehead against the blond's and captured his lips in a short, sloppy kiss.
“I can't believe you actually like doing that,” jeered Murderface, his voice a bit too loud and jarring in the midst of the intimate demeanor that had suddenly captured the room. They all knew why. It was Nathan's turn. Still fuzzy from the afterglow of their orgasms, Pickles and Skwisgaar parted.
“All of you. Off the bed. Go stand over there,” Nathan commanded. His voice was husky and harsh. He had waited long enough. The other men hurried over to do as they were told. “And don't fucking bother us.” They knew better than to say anything or intervene in any way, despite how bad the scene might get. Nathan could get in a pretty dark headspace sometimes, and Pickles took to the submissive role very convincingly.
Nathan knelt between Pickles parted legs, his hands roaming from the sweat behind his knees, down his flushed thighs, and across the expanse of his ass, still red from his earlier spanking. He leaned down, his hair falling around his head like dark curtains, shielding him and Pickles' from the enthralled eyes of the others. “Hey there,” he whispered, pressing small pecks to the drummer's eyelids, nose, and cheeks.
Pickles smiled weakly. He was exhausted. “Hey.”
“You good? Ready to go one more time?” Nathan's eyes were caring, almost worried. Taking three dicks in a row was a challenge, and he didn't want to push the red head too far. Pickles sank into the bed, crossing his wrists over each other on the bed above him in a show of submission.
He stared back up at the frontman with determination. “Yup,” he whispered back, before much louder asking, “fuck me, Nathan. Please?”
The raven-haired man straightened up, regarding the smaller man beneath him with ravenous eyes. “Hmmm. I don't think so. You've already had more than enough.”
“I need more. Please.” Pickles tilted his hips up, offering himself wholly. His heart thudded in his chest, and all he could hear and feel was the heavy breathing from Nathan's powerful chest.
“You fucking slut,” he spat. “If only you could see yourself now. You're covered in all those douchebags' jizz. Gross. What makes you even think I'd want to fuck you like this?”
Pickles felt so small. “Because I need you Nathan.”
“Why me? Any old dildo off the street could make you come, not like it's hard or anything.” He wasn't wrong, Pickles thought. “Speak up,” Nathan insisted when the drummer threatened to get bogged down in subspace.
“I gotta have it, dude. It's gotta be you, please. Please fuck me. I need it so bad, please,” he begged, barely loud enough for anyone else in the bedroom to hear.
“Whatever. I don't even know if I can get it up, your cunt's so used and fuckin' repulsive.” The act was impeded a bit by the fact that his erection was at full-mast, the head already exposed and leaking pre-come. He took his penis in one hand and rubbed it against Pickles' slick lips, and it nearly slipped inside his pussy with each pass.
“Yeah dude, stick that giant fuckin' prick of yours in me,” he babbled, throwing his head back. “Goddamn, I'm so wet for you Nathan.”
There were murmurs and gasps of concord from the other end of the bedroom, the guitarists and bassist captivated by the scene unfolding before them, beating their meats furiously without taking an eye off of Nathan and Pickles.
“You like that?” Nathan asked, grunting as he pushed into Pickles, barely at first, and then all the way, never giving the man beneath him a moment to adjust. “You like this big cock in your pussy? Fuckin' skank.”
“Do it Nathan, do it do it do it,” Pickles begged, holding onto Nathan's arms like they were the only thing keeping him alive. Nathan threw most of his weight into one of his huge paws that wrapped around Pickles' neck like a vice. He used the new leverage to pound Pickles' into the mattress, and the red head sobbed and choked, thrashing around like a fish out of water. His other hand snaked between his body and Pickles' to rub the drummer's clit in fast little semi-circles. The slapping of their bodies moving and grinding against each other was almost louder than the desperate cries coming out of the red head, tears leaking from his eyes, his face quickly purpling. Nathan let off of his neck, and just as soon as he was free, Pickles used the momentum to push Nathan onto his back. Gasping and sputtering, the smaller man fucked the frontman hard, bouncing in his lap and clawing at his broad chest.
“Yew fuckin' dildo, yew fuckin', fuckin' dildo...nnghhhaaa...” he choked out, curling in on himself like a cooked shrimp as another orgasm came rushing at him. Nathan gripped his hips and thrust up, matching Pickles movements, his fingers still on the drummer's swollen clit, using his to tap it over and over again. “Oh my gawd...” he mewled, squeezing his eyes shut as his cunt clenched around Nathan's cock, still snapping up into him.
“You're not done yet, I haven't come yet. Don't you fucking stop moving,” growled Nathan through heavy pants, his face red and tight with the effort.
“C'mon Nate'n come inside me,” Pickles cried. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed, his pussy sore and sensitive, but Nathan continued to fuck him unrelentingly.
“I fuckin' plan on it. Gonna fill your nasty, slutty cunt. You ready?” Pickles nodded his head shakily, light-headed, and he raked his fingernails down Nathan's torso. Nathan looked over at the guitarists and bassist, who also nodded.
As if on cue, Nathan roared, a noise that tore through the tension in the air, and came inside Pickles, burying his seed deep inside his lover. Murderface, Toki, and Skwisgaar each had their respective climaxes, and had already begun cleaning themselves off, while Nathan and Pickles were still connected, trying to catch their breaths. Pickles lowered his head for a clumsy kiss of teeth and tongue, his tears wiping against Nathan's face. “Was it good for you?” the frontman murmured.
“Of course it was. All of it. You guys are great.”
“I'm glad. You're so fuckin' perfect, Pickles. Did you know that?”
He laughed. “Don't make this any gayer than it already is, Nate.”