A/N: I felt the need to write Nickles smut. So, have some pure Nickles smut. Nothing but smut. With a cheesy plot-line. YOU LOOK AT IT. Also, it's for Oni, because the situation was her idea, and because it's her birthday. Bah, read, review, and enjoy.
It was a slow day in Mordhaus. Nathan was slouched on the couch, with Pickles sitting in the floor, resting his head on the front man's knee. Because waking up with a hangover made getting dressed too arduous a task, both men were naked. It wasn't like anyone cared, really. It was their house. If the other three band members objected, they'd just make fun of them for looking at their junk. Nathan had the television tuned to the Food Network. Alton Brown was on, and Nathan didn't really understand what the chef was doing to the unnamable meat laid out on the counter, but it was something to watch.
Both men were nursing their hangovers with more booze. Nathan also had an open bag of chips on his other side. Pickles, on the other hand, was complementing his alcohol with a joint. Television was more fun with weed. As time drew on and the joint shrunk, the drummer got gigglier. When the power suddenly went out, leaving the two men completely in the dark, Pickles fell into a fit of hysterics.
"What the hell is so funny?" Nathan growled, grabbing a fistful of dreadlocks. Pickles's laughter died back down and he shimmied and wiggled until he was on his knees, facing Nathan. He placed his hands on Nathan's thighs to steady himself.
"Heh…Well, it's a blackout, dood," the drummer said, trying as hard as he could to contain his giggles. "There's two things we c'n do in a blackout. We're, heh, already drunk."
Nathan wasn't completely sure where this was going, but the redhead's words roused his member. He could feel Pickles leaning forward, forcing his legs to part. "What are you doing?"
Pickles giggled some more and said, "Do ya wan' me ta show ya?" As he spoke, his breath ghosted over Nathan's ever-hardening cock. The front man suddenly realized exactly what Pickles was doing.
Before the front man had time to even think to reject the offer, Pickles's mouth was sliding slowly down Nathan's shaft. His hand tightened in the dreadlocks at the sensation. Being completely blind to the actions taking place below his waist was new to the dark-haired man, and he would be lying if he were to say that he did not enjoy the feeling. When the redhead's tongue began writhing against his overly-sensitive flesh, he lost any train of thought he might have had.
Pickles took the deep growls and grunts as encouragement and began working the singer more vigorously. He slid up to the tip of Nathan's cock and began alternating between sucking on it and swirling his tongue around it. At the same time, his right hand worked Nathan's shaft, while his left hand gently massaged Nathan's sac. Occasionally, he would glance up to try and gauge the front man's reaction. Unfortunately, the room was still shrouded in darkness, leaving the redhead to rely on his other four senses.
When the drummer slid Nathan's full length down his throat, the front man's head fell back and he roared in pleasure. He swallowed a couple of times, but abruptly slid off.
Nathan yanked Pickles up so that his mouth was near the drummer's ear. "Why are you stopping?" he growled dangerously.
Without missing a beat, Pickles climbed into the bigger man's lap and said, "Dat ain't how I want dis ta end."
Nathan finally released his grip on Pickles's hair, and the drummer turned around so that his back was facing Nathan. "Don't we, uh…need lube?" Nathan asked, a bit worried.
"Nah, 'm good," Pickles replied. Seconds later, Nathan heard a wet popping sound, and Pickles began wiggling around a bit on his lap. The smaller man was also moaning quietly.
Just as Nathan figured out that Pickles had been preparing himself, the redhead positioned Nathan's stiff member at his entrance and slowly began to lower himself. The dark-haired man's hands automatically found the redhead's narrow hips and began helping him down. Nathan had to fight the urge to thrust upward.
Once he had his front man fully sheathed, Pickles began gently rolling his hips. "Dood, stahp tryin' ta be gentle. Ya ain't gahnna break me," Pickles panted, leaning his head back on Nathan's shoulder and exposing his neck. Nathan took the invitation and began nipping and sucking his way up towards the redhead's ear. At the same time, Pickles was panting, moaning, and writhing wantonly.
When Nathan reached his drummer's ear, he growled, "You're a dirty slut, you know. Are you gonna scream my name?"
"I may be ridin' ya, but I'm the one in control here," Pickles said, ceasing his movements to prove his point. Nathan whimpered softly and nuzzled the redhead's neck. Pickles bit back his laughter, instead asking, "Ya understand who's in charge here, then?" Nathan only nodded against his neck. "Good. Now touch me," he commanded, guiding the larger man's hand.
As Nathan's hand wrapped around his cock, Pickles began rolling his hips again, this time searching out that perfect angle. As he went, he continued to instruct his front man. When he finally found his spot, he pushed himself up just a bit and panted, "Thrust. Hard."
Nathan did as he was told, matching his hips' rhythm with his hand. This had his drummer crying out incoherently. After a few minutes, the redhead came, screaming the dark-haired man's name. This, in turn, caused Nathan to follow Pickles right over the edge, tossing his head back and roaring.
The two men collapsed back onto the couch, sweaty and panting. When he finally began regaining his breath, Pickles gently lifted himself from Nathan's lap and snuggled up to his side.
At that moment, the lights came back on, and five klokateers rushed into the room. "My lords," said the lead klokateer, "are you okay? We heard screaming from this direction."
"We're good," Nathan replied, glaring at the hooded men.
"But, my lords, we heard—"
"WE'RE GOOD!" Nathan yelled, sending the five men scrambling back out of the room. He then smiled down at the redhead snuggled against him. "We're very good."
"Yep. Best. Blackout. Ever. Hands down, dood."