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It’s the same shit all over again: crappy meetings, useless introductions, smiley faces and unproductive work. They all start to flare up once things go south. That’s the reason why William has never found a label or a stable group for himself; they are always dicks. He hates it even more than himself, when people can’t come together and accept someone’s mistake, so he tries to argue for fairness, and it always ends up even shittier.
Fuck bands. Fuck this stupid illusion of happiness every time he meets a new one. He knows exactly how it will go, because that’s just a usual thing.
The place Magnus tells him about looks like a crap garage, but there is something cozy in it. The man himself stands right in front of a door, talking to a fairly tall guy with long dark hair. William will later learn that his name is Nathan and he doesn’t really smile or act like a normal human being. He will also learn that Nathan has one of the best growls he has ever heard, but for now it’s just a guy with black hair, who looks somewhat lost as if it’s his first time.
Magnus himself is not a man William is too familiar with, he just heard of him but didn’t really care. If it wasn’t for that night in a bar, where Hammersmith touched on the most sensitive topics of all — “Did they just dump you? That’s shitty, real bandmates would never do that. And you are a good bassist, I heard, so that’s their loss for sure” — Murderface still wouldn’t care. But here he is, with his bass and his doubts, waiting for the only truth he knows.
Behind that door he sees a red-haired girl. It actually takes him a little to recognize, that there were no boobs and quite a curved crotch. Anyway, what the fuck?
“Who ordered a whore?” William asks without hesitation, and everyone is looking at him.
“Pardon you?” ‘a whore’ is clearly aware, that it was an insult directed towards him. Well, no shit, he looks like that guys from strip clubs or a glam rock band or something. “I am your lead guitar.”
Murderface can’t hold a smirk. Really, out of all people available, this is the best choice for a fucking death metal band? Dear Lord, he can’t take this seriously now.
“I am more of a lead guitar than you, gay boy,” William’s voice is filled with ridicule. ‘A whore’ is not happy, he can see it by the way this faggot stands up from a couch. “Fuck, Magnus, you told me that you wanted to actually make it in the industry, but this crap…”
Murderface will understand that he made a mistake by not looking at a lead guitarist and turning to Hammersmith just in a second, when the guy smacks William’s balls with his feet. The bassist shouts and jumps back, holding his crotch with hands and barely keeping tears of pain.
“You haven’t told me that you will bring some douches,” the guy spits in Murderface’s direction. “Holy shit, man, this moron is a fucking mess.”
Magnus is just breathing heavily, while Nathan looks sincerely puzzled, not knowing whether or not he should intervene in the scene.
Later William learns, that the gay boy’s name is Pickles and he is a star. A former one, to be exact. Murderface makes sure to remind Pickles that he is no longer a ‘big boy’ and is back in their shitty league of no names. Surprisingly, the guitarist takes it quite lightly.
When Magnus brings the ‘god amongst men’, or Skwisgaar for short, two sessions later, this really gets to Pickles, who is clearly unhappy. He now wears jeans (Not the leggings, showing off his fucking dick, so gay, gay, gay, William was constantly looking at his crotch and thinking how gay Pickles is. Who on earth would wear this, thinking that they can lure someone or what, like, did he actually think that someone would look at his crotch and something? So fucking weird, dude). Plus, Pickles has his hair a little bit messier and also got a sleeveless shirt instead of a top. He now looks like a metal head, an actual one, not like a gay boy before. He, though, still acts the same.
“What the fuck, Magnus?! This wasn’t the deal!” William rolls his eyes, when he hears that. God, he somewhat missed the fakeness of his previous bands. Skwisgaar, who stands just behind Hammersmith, looks smug. Damn, is he a type to be a piece of shit, because he is the best? And here Murderface thought there can’t be anything worse than the gay boy Pickles.
“Listen, Pickles,” Magnus is serious, “we all know that you are good, but Skwisgaar is the best, and we have to give him a proper place.”
“Yeah, and I can go to a shitter, right?” Pickles looks like he is about to snap. William wouldn’t mind, to be honest, that would be nice to see the guy kicking someone else’s balls for once.
“God…” Magnus breaths in before he continues. “You can take the drums; I know that you are good at them.”
“Yeah, Pickles,” the guy mocks him, “take the drums, that thing you have little to no experience at. Good fucking idea.”
“Honestly,” Hammersmith now also looks angry, “you know that you can handle this. As well as anything. C’mon, Pickles, aren’t you a fucking genius?”
Pickles puffs at that, not really taking the bait but still having no desire to actually ruin everything, so he steps out, generously giving his place to a professional they were too lucky to get.
What really surprises Murderface is how Pickles turns out to be… good. And he has heard lots of tons of the drummers. Despite telling that he has never done this seriously, Pickles acts as if it comes natural to him. ‘A genius,’ echoes in William’s mind, and he understands now, what exactly Magnus meant by that. Maybe, the gay boy is not that lame after all.
After a long thinking process (not really, it was more of an impulse), Murderface decides to search for that cursed glam music to see, what exactly Pickles was doing there. Lead singer, main guitar… William is watching a recording of a live concert, and all the fans are going insane over Pickles, screaming his name and trying to reach him, and this is where the bassist finally understands what is so different between them.
It stings a little.
To think about it, the drummer has never brought his past to the band’s attention or tried to show that he is better than everyone by telling that he was a rock star. This was out of the character, at least William thought so, but Murderface was quick to grow some kind of respect for the guy. Not in a gay manner, surely, it’s just that in his previous bands there always was that one bastard, who showed off.
Other thing, which indicated that Pickles was indeed serious about the band, was the fact that not only his appearance changed, but also attitude. Even when Murderface told him that he was a fag (a friendly banter they always have during a break), the drummer just laughed and told that William was a fag too. This usually led to some shit, but whatever, this is how you connect and make bonds.
They all were pieces of shit, Murderface learned that quickly, but he also got attached to how openly they hated each other. No bogus, just pure annoyance. It was like a high quality porn, but in real life. Like not faking orgasms, but arguing and overcoming obstacles.
Speaking of porn, William found quite a lot on Pickles. Not like he searched for this shit, it just popped up itself. And it wasn’t really porn, just photos of the former singer, but all the comments there were definitely not family-friendly. ‘I wish he fucked me hard,’ was the most common one, followed by ‘he’s so sexy, I want him so bad’. Some of the comments contained rumors, and they really got William’s attention.
‘I’ve heard he’s gay and he fucks male groupies backstage’.
‘Heard from a friend that this guy gives the best fucking bjs with his shit in a tongue’.
‘Wish I could be around, when you could fuck his sweet ass’.
And more of similar crap that Murderface was somewhat uncertain of. Yes, Pickles clearly looked like he’s totally gay for the first times, but then a lot has changed. And you can’t really believe those rumors, people would write anything, right? Right? It feels weird looking at Pickles’ pictures after he has read this shit.
That’s not gay to think that someone is gay, right? Murderface wasn’t gay for looking at this glam pictures and considering Pickles’ sexuality, fucking right? He was getting hard for the sole reason that this all seemed so stupid, fucking-right-he-is-not-gay-okay? Okay?
William doesn’t feel okay. He’s also so hard, he can’t understand how he didn’t even notice. This traitorous dick of his, always finds something weird to get excited about. Pictures of their drummer’s past are definitely not something he wants to wank off to, so he throws a laptop away. It doesn’t really help him with being hard, but at least now he can relax and lower a hand down in his shorts.
So there are his usual fantasies about girls with big boobs and asses, this shit is always nice, but he can’t concentrate, because he ends up thinking about long red hair and freckles, a flat stomach, nicely rounded ass and a fucking curved crotch in tight leggings. The fact that Pickles actually got into his mind is annoying as hell.
He can’t stop thinking now, when he remembers how painful the moron kicked his balls. Fucking fag. The worst part of it is that his dick decides that this is some good stuff to get even harder, while thinking about. God fucking dammit. Now he just can’t deny it, huh.
One time is okay, it’s just a silly thought and that’s it. Just a quick jerking off session and he will forget about it like it never happened. Like he never imagined Pickles with a leash just right above him. The drummer smiles devilishly, rocking those tight pink leopard leggings and a black cropped top.
“You are a fucking faggot,” Murderface says, still holding his crotch, now on a floor, holding his tears.
“And you are a pig,” a leash hits him painfully, and Pickles orders. “Hands up.”
Murderface doesn’t even think twice, when he obeys. The drummer’s boot touches him through dark-colored shorts, and William whimpers. Pickles presses his leg a little bit down, and now the bassist cries out. He also gets so fucking hard, he thinks he is ready to cum already.
“Holy shit, and you call me a whore? You are disgusting.”
He is. He is so disgusting; he shouldn’t be alive. In real life Murderface crashes himself lightly in a hand and screams. A little bit of pain is always good.
Pickles lays on his bed completely naked. He jerks his hips up and asks whether or not ‘Willy’ wants to fuck him. Because, god, he wants his dick so much, he can’t stop squirming, wiggling his ass even more, begging for Murderface’s cock. Pickles opens his mouth and there is his piercing. ‘This guy gives the best fucking bjs’.
The head of his dick is so swollen, it needs attention now, but no, William ignores it.
Pickles is touching himself, playing with his cock and fucking himself with drumsticks. He moans and screams, while his loose hair shakes with each thrust. Murderface tries to match the speed with the one he fantasizes about.
There is Pickles on his dick, jumping up and down, up and down, and he is crying, his eyeliner is ruined by tears, and Pickles says, trying not to sob, how thankful he is for this dick in his ass, that this is the best one he has ever had, and he promises that from now on he’s only William’s bitch and he doesn’t need anyone else, just please, please never stop fucking him.
“Please, come inside me,” Pickles begs, “I want you to fill me up.”
“Ain’t I a disgusting pig, though?” it’s not that easy to speak, when he is about to burst.
“You are fucking awful, filthy and pathetic,” Pickles cries, “and I want you to tarnish me.” Murderface is close enough to nearly not hear things. “I want you to make me yours.”
Yes, that was good enough. His hand works him through the orgasm, while William breaths heavily. There are tears on his cheeks and he is absolutely embarrassed. When he finally stops, he considers smashing his head on something, so he could erase every single bit of memory of what he just has done.
The worst part is that he doesn’t really feel guilty. He repeats several times that he’s not gay, therefore it’ll be fine as long as he pretends so.
He promises to himself that he will not do this again, but he can’t stop himself next time.