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It might have been a good day. Who knew, maybe the weather was nice, maybe spring was coming back and maybe Pickles would have liked to go outside today.
These were the thoughts going through the drummer as he stared at the metal ceiling above him. Why the ceilings on this submarine were so goddamn close to the ground, he'd never understand. Even the largest rooms felt like prison cells. It had been kind of funny at first, watching Skwisgaar and Nathan bump their heads on every doorway. But by the third day, the entertainment-factor quickly wore off. That was when the feeling really started to sink in, deep in his chest.
Pickles had never considered himself claustrophobic. But all the claustrophobics he had ever met were afraid of elevators, tunnels or cellars. Stupid, irrational shit, basically. Feeling on edge about the Twenty-five hundred tonnes of water pressing down on him, that wasn’t really claustrophobia. That was survival instinct kicking in.
Pickles took another sip of his whiskey. His way of telling the monkey part of his brain to settle down already, kick your feet back. It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not, so you might as well relax. You're in for the long haul.
Now if only he could get Nathan to leave him the hell alone.
“Yeah, it’s going really well with Abigail. We’re probably going to get married.” Nathan had sat his ass down on the couch next to him, and refused to take the hint, no matter how disinterested Pickles looked. Like they were hanging out, that fucking prick.
“But uhh, she’s a pretty assertive lady. And she wasn’t super impressed with how I did when we... Got it on.” Nathan flushed. “So I was wondering if you had any tips or something? Seeing as you’re...”
Pickles raised a single pierced eyebrow, and Nathan faltered. The poor guy was clearly having some trouble stringing the rest of that sentence together, but Pickles was in no rush to help him out. The silence stretched on for a stupid amount of time, with Pickles feeling the anger rise higher in him every second. I want him to choke, Pickles thought. I want the sub to collapse and crack open his thick, empty skull.
“You got that whole... situation, down there.” Nathan finally managed, making a vague gesture towards Pickles' crotch. He cleared his voice. “I’d go to Skwisgaar, but he’d get all smug about it.”
Yeah, leave it to Pickles. Pickles, who wouldn’t get smug, or feel awkward or maybe even a little devastated as Nathan went looking for ways to get his new girlfriend off. Pickles, who would let Nathan delete months of work, wrecking-ball his relationship with his mom, and elbow him in the face so hard blood spewed from his nose, and do all of that without a single ‘sorry’ ever being muttered between them. Pickles, who was fine with everything, apparently.
Pickles looked up at Nathan surly, not that the guy would actually notice. Wouldn’t even look him in the eye, that goddamn coward. He took a long, hard swig of his drink while he weighed his words.
“You should try blowing on it. Chicks love it when you blow on it.” He finally said.
Nathan looked up through the curtain of hair that fell over his face. “Huh... Okay.”
“And you know what the clit is, right?”
“Oh yeah, I heard that’s important, but I never really went looking for it before.” Jesus, so he was one of those guys. Pickles had had a few unfortunate run-ins with this kind of guy, the type to bring a flashlight and a looking glass to a hookup. Abigail really knew how to pick them.
“Oh yeah, the clit’s super important dude” he confirmed. “But it’s not that sensitive, so you really gotta mash it up. Think of it as a faulty remote controller. You got big thumbs, you know what to do.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And, uhh, you ate her out, right? Abigail?”
Nathan flushed. “Yeah, but she said I wasn’t great at it.” Shocker. Pickles took another swig.
“Well, that makes sense. You see Nath’n, a pussy has this spot on the inside called the G-spot.”
“Should I be writing this down?” Yeah, Pickles thought, it’ll be on the exam you dumb fucking douchebag. “I’ll send you some readings. But that spot is what you really need to focus on. Ideally, you should be using your tongue like it were your dick. Try to thrust in and out, really spear into her and then pull all the way out again.”
Nathan’s brow knitted together, and Pickles wondered if he had pushed it too far. “That sounds like it might be kind of awkward, right?” he asked.
“You can get the angle right if you push her legs all the way up.” Pickles quickly added. “But really, you should just get to fucking as quickly as possible, that’s when most girls cum the easiest dude. All that foreplay stuff is just for skin-flicks.”
“Okay...” Nathan said. Pickles figured that would be the end of it, but for some goddamn reason, Nathan didn’t get up. He stayed right where he was on the couch like he had been invited, a dull expression on his face as he stared at his big hands. Pickles glared daggers at him, willing him to look up and see how badly the drummer wanted to rip his head off.
“Most girls I’ve been with kind of struggle to take me, 'cause you know...” Ahh, so there it was. Pickles had seen Nathan get in and out of the hot tub, of course he knew what he was talking about. He cast a pointed glance at Nathan’s lap, the prominent bump at the front of his jeans.
“Yeah, I know,” Pickles said.
“So do you know how to speed it up? If that’s when most girls get off?”
Pickles pretended to consider. “Try rubbing her lower stomach, that’ll loosen her up.”
“Oh... Really?” Nathan asked, surprised.
“Yeah dude, right above the carpet. She’ll love that.”
“Man. There’s so much about sex I don’t know.” Nathan had the absolute gall to look a little flustered.
“Yeah well, you’re from Florida. Sex-ed sucks down there, you’re a victim of the system.” Pickles imagined teenage Nathan, sitting in the gym hall and not paying attention as his teacher yelled at the kids about pregnancy and STDs. He imagined Nathan contracting something and not realising until his dick rotted and fell off.
“Thanks, man.” Finally, Nathan got up and made moves to leave the room. Then, because Pickles’ life was hell, he stopped and turned around. “Hey,” he said, “So, we’re cool, right?”
Pickles tipped his glass at him. A mock toast to the happy couple and their ugly fucking future babies. They had his blessing. Nathan nodded. Of course, he’d be pleased with that, he had gotten everything he wanted from Pickles.
Then, at last, he was gone. He left Pickles alone, stewing in his own rage and the remaining Jack Daniels. Wishing a wide variety of erectile dysfunction issues onto that fat dildo.
The new album sucked ass so far. It was undeniable, you could just feel it in the room whenever they went into the studio. They were out of sync, all of them, and it was only getting worse.
Skwisgaar was still trying, eager to win whatever battle he was always fighting with himself. But Pickles was burnt out. What was the point if everything he did was going to end up in the trash anyway? He did his contractual job, which was to play the drums, and couldn’t be bothered with the rest of it. Leave it up to their perfect goddamn producer. If Nathan tried to take him to court over song writing royalties that might just be Pickles’ last straw. Fuck, he almost wanted him to.
He was walking towards the recording wing with Toki that morning. Pickles had found that he could learn a lot from the kid- Toki was an expert at pretending to be involved. “It ams all about consistency,” the guitarist told him. “Peoples don’t expect nothing better when they don’t remember you were ever any goods.”
They were stopped by Abigail, who made herself known by shoving Toki aside, stomping towards Pickles and crowding him into a wall. Pickles was sure she was going to start screeching hysterically about his lacklustre everything, but when she opened her mouth she sounded very calm.
“I just want you to know,” she began, “that I know what you did, and that I see this as a declaration of war.”
She took a step back, smirking. “You’re going to regret ever stepping onto this sub, you sad little man. Revenge is coming.” Right, like Pickles hadn’t heard that one before. He scoffed.
“Okay, awesome, you have fun with that.”
“Oh, I will.”
“I hope you do.”
Abigail raised an eyebrow. “You have fun too, Pickles.”
Pickles laughed. “I’m having fun right now sweetheart, this is pretty good.”
“Great, so we’re both having fun.”
Toki was staring at the two of them, wide eyes darting back and forth helplessly. “...Okay, I ams just goings to go... anywhere else. Sees you, Pickle, Abigails.” He quickly scampered off.
Abigail watched him go, then turned her attention back to Pickles, who was trying his best to look unimpressed. “I know you must be real pleased with yourself, but you made a big mistake today. Because you forgot that I have one thing that you don’t.”
“Mmh-hmm, and what’s that?”
Abigail leaned in close, close enough for Pickles to pick up on a familiar axe-body scent clinging to her clothes. He recognised it instantly. “A life outside of Dethklok.”
It was not difficult to forget his conversation with Abigail in the wake of everything going tits-up. In what turned out to be the first in a long string of unfathomable events, Nathan apologised to him. Once upon a time, Pickles had thought that they were probably fucked, and that he and Nathan would go into the grave mad at each other. One of those nuclear band-breakups, destroying everything in its path. But as soon as Nathan actually said the words ‘I’m sorry’ it suddenly became so, so easy to get up and pull him into an embrace.
And it felt just as easy when Nathan grabbed his hand at the end of their battle with Salacia, and then his face, and then kissed him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was just something they did, instead of the thing that Pickles had been fantasizing about for close to a decade. He didn’t even bother pulling Pickles aside, he just kissed him in front of the band and anybody. They really must be getting better at the whole family thing, because non of the guys even gave them shit for it. Not even Murderface, who rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like fucking finally.
But in between trying to rebuild the world and all of their personal issues flaring up like old allergies, it was actually kind of hard to find a moment to be alone together. Most evenings, the guys would all collapse from exhaustion rather than partying too hard. On other nights, Pickles would be distracted by Toki crawling into his bed with horrible nightmares.
Their opportunity snuck up on them unexpectedly. Charles gave them the green light that he had everything under control, Skwisgaar took Toki on a trip to Europe, and Murderface was off in South Carolina, taking the lead on some big charity event. Pickles only realised he and Nathan had Mordhouse to themselves after they dropped him off at the airport.
Things progressed pretty quickly from there. And Pickles didn’t think about their conversation in the sub, didn’t think about Abigail, right up until the point Nathan opened his mouth and asked “Should I get the ice?”
They had made it to Nathan’s bedroom by that point, and Pickles had lost his shirt somewhere along the way. He had thought he was up for anything. He was rapidly forced to reconsider.
“...The ice?” Pickles asked.
“Yeah, Abigail told me about how you always got to put in the ice cubes.”
Oh. That fucking bitch.
“...Let’s leave the ice in the fridge tonight, yeah?” Pickles mumbled, a little dumbfounded. Had she known about them the whole time? Jesus Christ, what had she told Nathan?
When Nathan offered to go down on him, Pickles figured it’d be a good idea. He could assess the damage he and Abigail had done in a relatively safe way before Nathan could accidentally break his ribs with that battering ram between his legs. Now, he was starting to regret that decision.
Things had not gotten off to a good start, with Nathan attempting to finger his belly button. Pickles had slapped his hand away. He had then been laid down on his back, left knee pushed up against his own chest and the other leg thrown over Nathan’s shoulder.
He was staring sceptically at the head between his legs. Nathan’s hair fell in front of his face while he worked, so Pickles couldn’t actually see his expression, but it was easy to tell that Nathan was deeply zoned in on the task at hand. Pickles could feel his free hand trying to grope his ass (impossible, with his left leg pushed up that high), while he repeatedly scraped his front teeth over his cunt, like he was trying to peel a carrot. Or no, what it really reminded Pickles of was his great-aunt Ethel going outside every autumn morning to rake leaves. Scrape, scrape, scrape. In its own way, it was kind of fascination. But not fascinating as in discovering a new kink, more like watching one of those David Lynch movies Murderface liked. Getting head from Nathan was Lynchian.
His dentures caught on the hood of his cock and Pickles cursed.
“Okay, Nath’n? You want to maybe take five and- argh, gawddammit, Nate stop.”
Nathans raised his head, looking up at Pickles with confused, puppy dog eyes. He did look kind of good like that, a little out of breath and his lips swollen and slick. Not from Pickles, who was dryer than the Sahara desert right now, but from his own drool. Whatever, Pickles thought, at least it was something.
“Just- come up here for a moment,” Pickles said, making a gesture. Nathan crawled forward until they were lying chest to chest. His hand let go of Pickles’ pushed-up leg at last, and Pickles gently lowered it down to the mattress. He reached out, pinned Nathan’s hair behind his ear and then framed his face with both hands.
“Hey,” Nathan mumbled, staring down at Pickles with those amazon green eyes of his.
“Hi.” Pickles smiled. This was good, he could actually remember why had picked this guy like this.
He buried his hand in Nathan’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. It was easier to relax now, with their mouths moving in sync. Nathan wasn’t actually bad at this part- his lips were soft and his heavy tongue felt good as it brushed up against Pickles' own. Nathan was almost shy about it, it was kind of cute. Pickles could faintly taste himself on his tongue, as well as the chardonnay they had had earlier. He could feel himself get interested again, a needy feeling between his legs, the urge for friction. He moved his hand down from the nape of Nathan’s neck and explored the skin of his broad back, his shoulders, his biceps. Wherever his hand brushed, he could feel goosebumps rising up.
Then Nathan reached down with both hands and tried to hook his thumbs into the sides of Pickles’ cunt, prying him open as if he were a bag of chips. Pickles squealed into his mouth and bit down on Nathan’s tongue in shock.
“Mmm- okay, nonono, stop. Fuck dude, never do that again. Nobody should ever do that.” Pickles pushed at Nathan’s shoulder, sat all the way back up and shut his knees before Nathan could spring any other horrible idea on him.
“But Abigail said-“
“Those tips she gave you were godawful, dude.” Pickles sighed. “And so were mine.”
Nathan frowned “Why would you tell me all those sex things if they don’t work?”
“I was trying to get at her, she was trying to get at me. We, uhh, were kind of at war with each other.”
“Oh...” Nathan still looked confused, so Pickles patiently waited for him to finish processing. After a few more moments of silence, Nathan looked up sharply. “Oh! You were fighting over me?”
“I dunno, I wouldn’t put it like that-“
“Is that why you didn’t really like each other? Because you both wanted me, and you knew there was only room in this bed for one?”
Pickles felt his face heat up. “The whole thing was a lot more nuanced than that.”
Nathan suddenly looked really, really pleased with himself. Oh no. “I don’t know why you’re arguing, you won. You got this sex-god of a man.”
“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Pickles said. “You want me to give you an apology blowjob?”
Nathan flushed “I’m not saying no to that. Not ever... But maybe you, uhh, could show me what you actually like, first? I do want that blowjob at some point though.”
Pickles considered. “I’ll get you a coupon.” Then, he crawled up into Nathans’ lap. Nathan was still wearing his black briefs, but Pickles could see the tent in them. “Stay like this for me, okay? You don’t have to do nothin’” Pickles then spread his legs and wrapped them around Nathan’s waist. The guy was built like an ox, soft and hard in all the right places. All that running around had firmed him up a little- right now, Nathan's biceps were roughly the size of Pickles’ head. His solidity felt good underneath him, especially when Pickles didn't have to worry about any of the insane ideas he and Abigail had planted in his brain. Pickles let his hand wander between his own legs.
Nathan was staring down at it. His eyes were a little blown out, but his hands stayed folded at his sides. Fuck, like he was waiting for permission.
“You want to touch?” Pickles asked. Nathan immediately nodded, so Pickles took his hand and moved it down right where he wanted it while he continued to play with his cock.
“There you go, baby” he mumbled while he ground his cunt into Nathan’s palm. Nathan seemed to short-circuit for a moment, looking down at all the places their bare skin touched. Then he remembered where he was, what was expected of him, and he crooked a finger in. Pickles was still slick from Nathan’s misguided attempt to use his mouth. The digits went in relatively easily, despite Nathan’s massive hands, and Pickles felt sparks of pleasure light up behind his eyes.
“God.” Pickles gasped out as he sped up the movements on his cock. “very good, keep doing that.” Nathan moaned softly and moved his mouth to Pickles’ neck, almost as if he was trying to mute himself. “You like that? When I tell you you’re doing well?” Pickles felt Nathan shudder, and then bite down into the sensitive skin of his throat. Looked like he had finally figured out what he should be using his teeth for.
“Try curling your finger inward, okay baby? And you can add more.”
Nathan enthusiastically complied, crooking the digits inside him and rubbing up against the spot that left Pickles gasping for breath. Before he had caught it again, Nathan pushed a second in. Fuck, he felt the stretch this time, but the push and drag against his insides distracted him well enough. Pickles could feel Nathan smirking into his neck. Eager to please, he was, and Pickles moaned in appreciation.
“Just like that, baby, that’s so good. Good boy. You can try scissoring them if you want.”
Nathan’s movements stilled, and his mouth detached from Pickles’ neck. “But that’s not possible.”
Pickles hadn’t realised he closed his eyes, but he cracked one open now. “Whaddaya talking about?”
Nathan looked down helplessly, then back up at Pickles. “I don’t- I don’t have the right bits for that, man.”
“I’m talking about your fingers, Nate, spread ‘em a little. I’m not saying we should bump pussies.”
“Oh. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.” Nathan muttered as he flushed scarlet, and then he nudged his face back against Pickles' throat. He started moving his hand with newfound vigour like he was trying to distract. He was doing a pretty good job with it, Pickles thought. Nathan dutifully scissored the fingers inside of him, and Pickles could feel slick dripping down his leg. The sounds their bodies were making where they moved together were starting to turn obscene.
Pickles continued to grind down on Nathan, eager to chase that hot, aching spark of pleasure. With Nathan’s hand between his legs, his body moving in sync with his and Pickles’ own fingers rubbing furiously at his cock, it wasn’t long until Pickles felt himself tip over the edge. “Fuck, fuck…that…Ah!…”
His grinding sped up as he rode out his orgasm, then finally slowed down and stopped. Pickles lifted his hips, missing the feeling of fullness as soon as Nathan’s fingers slipped out, and settled back on his lap.
“Did I fuck up?” Nathan asked as he inspected his hand.
“Nah, you did very good baby. I just came?”
“Huh. Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to...” Nathan made a little explosion gesture.
Yeah, I’m pretty sure. What does ‘this’ mean, are you talking about squirting? ‘Cause I don’t really do that.”
“Then how am I supposed to be able to tell when you cum?” Jesus Christ, his poor fucking groupies.
“I dunno man, I guess I’ll let you know? Has this never come up before? No ex-girlfriends or somethin' talked this over with you?”
“I don’t know, it’s never really been what I’ve focussed on.” And Pickles tried not to laugh at that, he really did, but Goddamn how could a man shove his cock in so many holes and still be this clueless.
Nathan grunted. “Will you- stop looking at me like I’m- Murderface or something. You’re not the first person I’ve gotten to finish. At least, I don’t think...”
Pickles reached out and began petting Nathan’s sleek, black hair. “Yeah yeah, I believe you. At least you knew what squirting is.” He paused. “Does Abigail squirt?”
Nathan’s eyes darted from left to right, like a cornered cat. “...This feels like a trap.” He muttered.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” Pickles huffed. Then Nathan put his big hands on his hips, and Pickles suddenly realised he was rocking back and forth on his lap. His cunt was leaving a wet streak on Nathan’s thigh. Huh.
“You want to go a second time?” Nathan asked.
“You know what, I’m good for another round.”
“Okay, yeah. What do you want to do? I can go down on you again?”
Pickles shuddered. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Maybe not tonight.” He glanced down. Nathan was still looking awfully neglected, tent in his boxers. There was a wet spot at the tip that Pickles hadn’t noticed before. He wanted to touch, be touched, feel him all over. “Fuck it,” Pickles breathed out. “You got any condoms, Nate?”
Oh, that got Nathan excited all right. He pressed a final, sloppy kiss to Pickles’ neck, and then disappeared to find the supplies. When he showed up again with the lube and condoms (tacky, golden little packets with MAGNUM written all over it. Pickles was reminded of that one commercial years back, some big-tittied chick holding one up and squeaking about how she got the golden ticket),
Pickles made quick work of prepping himself with the lube. Nathan watched with hungry eyes, palming himself through his underwear but leaving the cumbersome piece of fabric in place.
“You gonna lose that?” Pickles asked once he was done, reaching out and snapping the elastic of the waistband against Nathan’s fleshy hip. The boxers got pulled down, off, and then chucked across the room. Pickles was left staring, slack-jawed, at Nathan’s form. Holy fuck. Yeah, he had seen the guy naked before plenty of times. But Nathan had been flacid back then. Now here he was, fully erect, and Pickles was left trying to figure out the physics of how in the hell this was going to work.
“Jesus.” He mumbled, without even meaning to.
“Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologise for your dick. Not his fault, is it?”
“First girl I ever showed told me we should just be friends when I pulled it out.”
Pickles snorted. “No kidding.”
“Yeah, I always hear other guys complaining about their size, but I bet they’ve never gone through a breakup with their dicks hanging out.”
Pickles crawled forward on his hands and knees, traversing the distance between them on the bed. He then pushed against Nathan’s shoulders until he went down, leaning back on his elbows. “I’ll take care of it for you, okay baby?” Pickles pumped his cock in his fist, spreading the lube over the length of him. He then let his slick fingers trail down, to cradle his balls, continued to stroke until Nathan’s eyes had gone a little glassy. Not yet, Pickles thought, and then he swung a leg over Nathan’s body and mounted him again. Except this time, there was no black cotton barrier to stop the feeling of skin against skin. Pickles sucked in a breath.
“We’re gonna have to go kind of slow. I haven’t done this since, fuck, since nineteen-ninety-two, I don’t think.”
Nathan smirked. “Not letting the groupies have a go at you?”
“Not with a fucking strap on, no.”
Nathan sat back up. His mouth attacked his throat again, but higher this time, biting and licking just underneath the jut of his jaw. “So this is just for me?” He asked, voice rumbling so fucking close to his ear.
“Uh-huh, just for you.” Pickles lined their bodies up, moving his hips so Nathan’s weeping cockhead dragged over the slit of his cunt. “I’m gonna need you to stay still, can you do that for me?”
Nathan groaned and continued sucking at the sensitive skin of his throat. Pickles buried a hand in his long hair again and gave a sharp little yank, just to grab his attention. The noise Nathan made was pretty good, he had to admit. “Gotta use your words, baby.” Pickles chastised.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Nathan said, sounding as breathless as Pickles felt.
“Good boy.” Then Pickles sank down, as far as his body could take him in one go. There was an explosion of sensation between his legs, leaving him teetering between too much and not enough. Pickles forced himself to still, to let himself get used to the stretch. Nathan’s breath hit his skin, hot and fast. Poor baby was clearly aching to move, to thrust up and take, but he was staying nice and still, though his grip on Pickles' hips became hard enough to bruise. The feeling of control was intoxicating. Pickles ran his hands over his big torso, felt him twitch when he brushed past a nipple. Nathan was solid, steady and entirely his.
When Pickles grabbed his jaw and tilted it upwards Nathan looked at him with that wide-open, adoring look. And it was stupid, it was not very brutal at all, but Pickles knew that look very well. The type of look that drove Pickles up the wall and down the strangest paths, because despite all the bullshit of their lived Pickles really was a sucker for Nathan and his desires. The look that said I want you to join my band, I want you to follow me into the depths of the ocean and into the sky, I want Dethklok back, I want you. And here he was, handsome and desperate for it, and Pickles had to believe that he could twist this into something good.
“You wanted to make me feel good, right baby?” Pickles asked as he tentatively began rocking back and forth on his cock. When Nathan nodded Pickles took his hand and moved it back between his legs, only this time he pressed Nathan’s fingers up against his cock. “Here, like this, you don’t have to do it hard. Forget about the mashing thing- oh fuck”
Nathan must have been paying attention when Pickles was touching himself because the way his calloused fingers rubbed up against him sent a jolt of pleasure up his spine. Clumsy, but enthusiastic. “Fuck,” Pickles gasped out again, “Just like that, good boy, you’re being so good for me, don’t fucking stop-“
And then Pickles started moving up and down on his cock in earnest, and he didn’t have to think about Abigail, or Dethklok, or anything but how good it felt to have Nathan groaning underneath him, filling him up, his hands everywhere Pickles wanted them. Nathan was begging him to please don’t stop, Jesus Christ, as if there was any chance Pickles would want to slow down now.
And Pickles still couldn’t take Nathan all the way, but he could take him deep enough for it to feel really good. He felt the sudden urge to kiss him, which he did, and then to bite down, which he also did. The skin between his teeth was glowing and just a little damp from exertion, and it was while clamping down that Pickles realised he could probably get Nathan to do just about anything for and to him right now. He could tell he was close, they both were.
Hazily, Pickles thought about stopping, about ripping Nathan’s orgasm away when he was right on the precipice, and keeping him in this space, on the edge of it for hours and hours and ironically, that was what pushed Pickles over the edge.
He let out a string of moans and curses, and his movements sped up desperately. Nathan, being a good puppy, matched the pace and then Pickles was done. The muscles of his stomach, thighs and cunt began to twitch uncontrollably, and Nathan must have felt it too because his eyes rolled back a little.
“You gonna cum for me baby?” Pickles cooed through the fog of his own orgasm. “Go on then.” And seemingly that was all it took- Pickles could feel a shudder rip through the other man’s whole body, and he made sure to keep bouncing up and down on his cock, even once his own orgasm had already subsided, until Nathan was fully drained. By the time he was done, Nathan had fallen back against the cushions and was looking up at him dreamily.
Pickles waited until he felt in control of his own body again. Then, he lifted his hips and let Nathan slip out of his cunt. He helped take the condom off, tied a knot and chucked the thing across the room, not really caring where it would land. After that it felt only natural to lie down again and curl up at Nathan’s side, head on his chest. For a moment, Pickles was glad someone must have explained aftercare to him, at some point. Or maybe he genuinly wanted to stay, he supposed that worked too.
“I could tell the second time,” Nathan said as he put an arm around Pickles’ shoulders. “When you came, I mean.” All in all, he seemed very proud of himself. Pickles didn't even need to lift his head to tell that he was smiling- he could hear it in his voice.
Pickles reached out and pressed a sloppy kiss to his collarbone. “Such a good student.”