Nikki (llamasarenasty) wrote in dethsmut,

Nickles fic.

Stale whiskey dripped down the edge of his chin. Nathan belched loudly.
“Try’n be a bit less loud, dooshfeag.”, Pickles snapped angrily at him. The bigger man grunted somewhat dumbly, then fell over, eyelids fluttering.
He was drunk as could be. His hand jerked weakly as he tried to pick up the bottle he’d been drinking from. Pickles reached out and handed it to him silently. Nathan’s fingers wrapped around the neck, but after a moment it fell from his hand once again.
“’m fine…”, he slurred tiredly. Pickles glared at him. Nathan looked up at him silently, eyes wide.
“Wha’?”, he growled.

They were both completely silent, almost reverent. Pickles’ thumb hovered over the syringe’s trigger. The needle poked a tiny, bloody hole into his arm.
“I heard dis stuff gets yew higher ‘n a monkey ahn creack in a skyscreaper. I wanna try dis shit.”, he declared. Nathan nodded silently, still slightly drunk, but functional enough. Pickles grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers. He didn’t want to admit that he was slightly scared. Remarkably, he didn’t get pushed away. Nathan kept holding his hand. If anything, he held it tighter. Pickles lowered his thumb onto the trigger. And pressed.
A startled yell escaped him. Nathan flinched. Trembling, Pickles reached out his hand and laid it on his friend’s shoulder. His head was pounding painfully. His mouth felt coated in metal. He wanted to get low again; this trip was bullshit. He wasn’t high. He just had a fucking headache. There were no side effects labeled on the package. He didn’t feel any, anyway. Nathan looked at him for a second, and then sat down on the bed.
Pickles stared up at him, confused. Maybe the trip was starting. Maybe not. He still felt the same as before, minus the headache. But something was off. What… shit. His head still felt fuzzy. He looked at Nathan for help. Nathan offered no such thing. Instead, he stayed seated with an apathetic expression on his face. His skin was slightly flushed, not so much as to make him look like a schoolgirl with a crush on a teacher, but in a rather… interesting way, Pickles thought. Almost attractive.
What was he thinking?! This was his bandmate, for fucksake, not his…
He smirked. Just because it hadn’t yet happened didn’t mean it couldn’t… right? It sounded good. And if he was completely honest, he’d always found Nathan rather good-looking, not to mention the fact that even now, after a life of debauchery and booze and drugs, he was still neatly chiseled. Not a single gram of fat too much anywhere on his body.
And his eyes! Pickles couldn’t help it; he had never seen eyes that were so simple, just plain green, and yet so beautiful. Green eyes were nothing special; there were lots of people with green eyes. But when it came to Nathan, nothing was the same as with other people. He was so big, so riddled with hard, solid muscle, that he seemed almost lopsided at times, but he was still extremely quick and agile. Not graceful. Just quick. His personality was an enigma to everyone who met him, especially Pickles, who knew him so well. At times he was so energetic and charismatic, so powerful, ready for anything, and at others he seemed downcast, calm, almost depressed. He was obsessed with anything metal or brutal, but he rather would help little kids in Africa than butcher the lot of them because it seemed cool to him. He wasn’t nearly as stupid as he seemed to be at times. He understood Shakespeare; he could list all the events to do with Punk that had happene in the late 90s, and he was the only one among them who was able to use any kind of firearms, a bazooka no less.
But there was also his GED. You really had to be extremely bad at math to make like Nathan, or you had a really bad attitude. Pickles suspected the latter. It wasn’t rarely that Nathan didn’t go to the studio or didn’t record his audiobooks because he didn’t feel like it or would rather sleep in or because he was busy fucking a groupie.

“Get your face away from me!”, Nathan growled, snapping him out of his reverie. Pickles winced. He hadn’t even noticed he was so close. Too close.
For a moment, he stared up at his friend, worried, then he drew away slowly, biting his lip, something he did frequently when he was confused or under stress. A sharp pain lanced through his mouth. Something hot and wet pooled into his mouth. Blood, probably.
Nathan’s eyes widened.
“You okay?”, he asked sheepishly, probably thinking he had scared Pickles so badly he had bitten his lip by accident. He had, but it hadn’t been any of Nathan’s doing. More his own mentality, which seemed extremely messed up at the moment.
“Yeeuh, ‘m fine. I’ll be okee.”, he muttered, blushing angrily, still thinking about how close he had been to Nathan just seconds ago. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t wanted to back off. He wanted to get even closer. Close enough to… Shit, no! That needed to stop, that train of thought. Why was he even thinking like this? There was no reason for him to think like this, none at all, none. There was no reason why he should want to get closer to Nathan in any way. They were friends, good friends. That was enough. He didn’t need anything more. Just… Just nothing. Nothing.
Nathan looked at him. His throat closed, the unpleasant prelude to yet another asthma attack. But it felt different this time, less painful. More like an urge, an animal impulse to…
He grabbed the bigger man with sudden ferocity, and then crushed his lips against Nathans’s. A muffled growl escaped the dark-haired man. For a few seconds more, Pickles kissed him, then broke off and let him go, breathing hard, confused. And then Nathan reacted, finally. Not in the way Pickles would have expected. He kissed back.
Pickles shoved against him, pushed him down onto the bed. The woodwork creaked ominously. Nathan tossed his head back submissively, almost as though he wanted to get fucked. Right now. He couldn’t wait.
Pickles grabbed him at the hem of his shirt, pulling hard enough to split the seams, and forced him down.
“Don’ move.” He ordered, eyes blazing with anticipation and lust. “Stay right where yew are.”
Nathan nodded silently, breathing in hard, shallow pants, eyes wide.
Pickles kissed him again, harder this time, more forcibly, more aggressively. A low growl escaped the dark-haired man as the redhead bit down on his lip, drawing blood, causing him a moment of aggravating, startling pain. Surprisingly sweet pain. He hadn’t even known he was so masochistic.
Pickles broke off, then set to taking his friend’s shirt off. Nathan reached down to help, but his hand was pushed away gently.
“Lemme do it. I gaht it.”
He simply nodded again, unable to get a much bigger reaction out. Pickles laughed softly, then pulled the torn black t-shirt off viciously, unable to help himself anymore. Nathan whimpered; the seams were cutting into his skin. Tiny tracks of blood opened where they cut him. Pickles’ hand wavered, then stopped.
He bent down, staring at Nathan’s chest attentively, then leaned in and tentatively licked over his right nipple, eliciting a low moan and a slight squirm. He smiled.
Nathan twitched. Pickles sat up, on the bigger man’s waist. “Yer gonna be my bitch, dood, fully ‘n completely. Jes’ fer me.”, he muttered. Nathan growled loudly. He was Pickles’ bitch. His bitch. The masochist being subdued.
Pickles went down, fingers hooked through his belt loops, ready to undo the belt and take off his jeans. Just the anticipation made Nathan feel faint. Pickles definitely knew what he was doing.
“Hold still.”, he ordered, then undid the clasp and pulled out the belt. Simple, black leather, silver buckle.
His fingers opened the button and unzipped the fly, seemingly of their own accord.
I’m probably doing this too quickly, but I don’t care. I want him so bad, just him, God, I’d do anything to have him just once…
He pulled down. Nathan’s jeans slid down surprisingly easily, almost liquidly. Pickles blinked owlishly. Someone needed tighter pants, it seemed. He’d be taking care of that.
Nathan mewled like a cat. It was hilarious, but also, in some twisted way, adorable. Pickles laughed out loud and put his hands at the hem of his boxers. No way was he going to waste any more time. He wanted Nathan, now, badly, and he was going to fuck him no matter what. He pulled again. This time it took a little more doing, but it was worth it.
Nathan’s eyes widened in shock and worry. “Don’t hurt me, okay?”, he asked weakly. Pickles raised an eyebrow.
“I won’t.”, he promised and slid backward. Nathan gulped nervously.
He nodded. “Prahmise.”
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