InsaneJournal

Seth's Revenge
Murderface enters the kitchen to see one very upset drummer staring at a pile of mail. Particularly, at a video tape.

"What'sch that?"

Pickles jumps. He looks up at the bassist. "Oh hi. Oh. Eh. Jest…you know, uh, mail. Frem Australia."

"Like, from Scheth?"

"Yeah. I mean…I dunno." He seems to wrap his arms around himself, then let go, clenching fists on either side of the quiescent, black plastic rectangular prism. "Should I wetch it? Should I burn it?"

"He'll just schend it again if you don't schay somethin'. He'sch like that. Greedy dick baschtard!" He steals a piece of bacon from Pickles's untouched breakfast happy face.

Pickles's hand grasps Murderface's wrist, and Murderface expects him to ask him to drop the bacon, but his question has nothing to do with breakfast. "Murderface…will you wetch it wit' me? Dun wanna do et alone."

Murderface takes his wrist back, chewing at the bacon. "Well, okay. I mean, yeah."



Pickles clears everyone out of a random employee-access room with a plasma screen and locks the door. He takes a deep breath, popping the tape in. His scruffy-haired moral support comments that it's kind of weird Seth sent a VHS instead of a DVD like he did for the wedding.

"Whet the…dis is your room," Pickles comments.

"No it'sch not. Oh, wait…whoa, that'sch me."

"Sleepin'. Asleep like a little baby."

"Psh. I schleep like a man." Murderface pauses after a few minutes of his own light snores and sleep mutterings. "Thisch isch creepy. Did he label it or anything?"

"Naw. It jest said, 'I lied.' Whet's that even supposed to mean, you know? Could mean anything! He never tells the truth."

Murderface nods. All of a sudden, he makes a noise of distress. It's soft, and Pickles almost misses it, but he doesn't. He turns to Murderface.

"Whet?"

"I gotta. Um. Uh. I need to have, um, Ofdenschen check the tape for, uh…you know…thingsch. Like…suschpicious type…meanderings, and what not. It's all so complicated. Don't want the drummer to be emotionally schcarred! Drumschticks…everywhere. Drumschticks are like weapons. Musical weapons!" Murderface dashes over to the VCR and pops the tape out.

Pickles glares at him. "Gimme dat." He gets up, holding out his hand. "I don' care if ye're in it, it was addrissed to me."

Murderface pulls the tape up against his chest defensively. "You don't want to schee it. God, it'sch…."

"Why not? Whet happens?"

"Uh, Scheth comes in and, you know, bad mouths you and schtuff. It'sch best I dischpose of this."

"Look, it's like you said before, Murderface, he's gonna get on my case whether I watch it or not. So let's get it over with."

His cheeks are a little pink with what must be shame, something he doesn't display a lot. He grumbles to himself then hands the tape over. "Don't…uh…look at me any different."

"I don't pramise anything until I know how I'm gonna react for sure." Pickles accepts the tape and frowns slightly when Murderface sits on the couch and covers his face with a pillow. "I thought you were gonna wetch with me. As my moral support."

"At thisch point…you're mine!"

Pickles's frown deepens. He puts the tape back into the VCR and hits play.

In the video, Murderface continues to sleep. Pickles hits fast forward, eyes widening when he sees Seth enter and start talking to Murderface. It's not normal speaking distance. Seth is sitting on the bed, really close, like they're not strangers, even though they pretty much are. Pickles wonders if the camera picked up their conversation. With a glance at Murderface, who had started to peek around the pillow but buries his face again when Pickles looks over, he hits play.

"Yeah, everyone scheems to like him. He'sch actually a real cool guy, your brother. I mean, I get why you're jealousch. Bald, maybe a little, uh, pascht his prime, but schtill pretty good-lookin'."

"He ain't as good-lookin' as me, William." Pickles raises an eyebrow. William? Okay, what is Seth up to?

"He can't bake, though," Murderface continues, as if he hadn't even heard Seth say that. "His chocolate coconut macaroons, you tried one? Schit. All schit."

Pickles glares at his bandmate, who is still hiding.

"Look…this ain't why I'm here," Seth says.

"O…kay. Uh, then why are you here?"

"You, uh, jest seem like a…fellow spirit."

"Fellow…schpirit?" He raises an eyebrow, dubious.

"Yeah. You're a pretty attractive guy."

Murderface looks way surprised. "Oh. Oh, uh, yeah, thanksch." He pauses. "Wait a schecond…what's the catsch, Mr. Avarische? What'sch the con? Awww, leave me alone!"

"No con. I jest get lonely sometimes."

"Look. I'm not really even schupposed to be talkin' to you, you know? Maybe you should leave. I mean, you schould! Not maybe."

"I'm gonna guess you never sucked a cock before, huh, William?"

Pickles's expression matches the expression of the Murderface in the video. "Whet?!" he says loudly, at the same time as the Murderface in the video does. They both glare the same way.

"I haven't neither. I mean, we're really similar. I always wanted to too."

"What the…who've you been talking to? Wasch I drunk?" Yellow-green eyes are narrowed in suspicion.

"We can learn together, maybe." Seth in the video winks in the direction of the camera, though the video Murderface can't see.

"Schtop the tape. Lemme leave!" Murderface squirms, voice muffled by the gear pillow.

Pickles ignores this, turning up the volume. "You shet up!" he says, glaring at the screen.

Surprisingly, Murderface shuts up.

In the video, Seth reaches for video Murderface's hand. Video Murderface is still glaring. "Hey, nice hands. Real strong-lookin'. A man's hands. Meant for masturbating, can really grip a cock."

Pickles feels a flash of heat at the words, glancing over at Murderface, who is still hiding behind the pillow. Pickles huffs and hopes he passes out from lack of oxygen. He can see one of those meaty hands next to him, gripping at the black fabric embroidered with a gear. He swallows and looks back at the screen. Seth has a point, actually.

"Uh, look, dude, I don't schwing that waaa…hmm." Seth has placed Murderface's hand on the bulge at the front of his jeans.

"That's too bad. Too bad. I'm real hard, you know. Could be your chance to taste it."

Murderface's expression darkens. His hand grips at Seth's crotch. "I admit to nothing! I don't want your dick in my mouth. I mean…what the fhuck!" He kneads the flesh a little.

Seth makes a little, "Oo!" He rocks into the touch, encouraging. "Yeah. Yeah, you know how a guy likes it."

"Schut up! You want thisch or not?!"

Seth shrugs, lying in a more submissive-looking position. He grins at the camera. "You tell me. You got your hand on the indication, huh?"

Pickles bites his lip. It's hot. He's supposed to be horrified, not hard!

"Okay. Okay, onsche. Fhuck. You can't tell anyone! Espeschially Picklesch."

"Right. Course not."

"No funny buschiness."

"Nope."

"And you'll schuck me off afterward? No teeth?"

"Naw, none of that. I practice sometimes." Seth glances back at the camera with a devilish smirk. He hooks fingers in his own belt loops, tugging his jeans down. He glances at Murderface, noticing his expression. "What? Ye're not scared of a lil' cock, are ya, William? William Murderface. Cocksuckin' master, huh? Not afraid of nothin' phallic."

Pickles glances over at Murderface again, and shifts awkwardly. He turns his attention back to the screen.

"You want my shirt off?"

"Psh. I don't care. Jescht take off that underwear."

Seth smirks at the camera again. He slowly slides it down, like a tease. "This underwear?" Soon, he's not wearing anything at all. He glances at the camera, stretching languidly to show off his physique before standing.

"What? What the fhuck? Where are you going?"

"Jest over here. I like to stand."

Murderface grumbles to himself, but moves over to Seth, kneeling in front of his naked body.

"I like to face east, too," Seth says. Pickles is sure he didn't really know which way was east, but that he came up with that rule to get the best shot of the action on the camera.

Murderface grumbles again as the two of them move.

"Get used to him. He's your new friend, you know? Smell him a little." Murderface leans in and takes a deep breath, seemingly pleased with the scent. "You can touch 'im too."

The large hand is a little tentative as it reaches up, but it makes contact and starts to stroke. Pickles draws in a breath sharply. That is really hot!

That tongue that Pickles has seen caress a hotdog, well…caresses a hotdog. He licks tentatively at the head, then groans and licks some more! He seems hungry for that man meat! Pickles shifts a little, trying to ignore his hardness. "Feck," he comments.

Murderface peeks around the pillow again and draws in a breath in a long hiss. "Fhuck," he echoes, for an entirely different reason.

Pickles takes the pillow from him and tosses it across the room. "Man up!"

"I knew there was a catch. Fhuck him." He glares at the screen. Pickles chances a glance at Murderface's lap, noting that he's hard too. Murderface catches the look and looks at Pickles's lap in turn, spotting the bulge in his tight jeans.

"Your brother'sch a dick."

"Yeah, you'd know! You sucked et!"

Murderface grumbles and gets all pink again. "He usched me to get to you. I get it. Whatever. Jest don't talk about it!" His tone is angry, but with an underlying plea.

"Okie. Don' worry, I'll get back at him."

They're silent for a little while as the video continues.

"Damn, I knew et! Knew you'd like it!"

Murderface scoffs. "I wasch curious, Picklesch. I didn't like it!"

"You liked it den, and you like it right now!"

"Do not!"

"Whet's that in your pants?"

"Awwwwwwww, you got one too! It's all, you know, schense memory."

"Okie, I know he's a slimeball idiot, but he's right about one thing, you're officially like a really good cacksucker. Look at you go. Look!"

"Oh gawd." Murderface covers his face with a large hand. "I can't do thisch, I can't. Schtop bringing it up!"

"What else am I gonna commint on? That's the good part. If we weren't, ya know, friends, I might ask for your hilp downstairs!"

"Talk about the iron maiden! Jeezy!"

"Oo, oo! He looks like he's gonna cum, right in your mouth! Look, look!"

Murderface's fingers part just slightly, like a child carefully watching a horror film.

"Yeah! Yeah, dere it is! Look at you go! You're just takin' it, feck! Had you done it before?"

Murderface grumbles. "Uh, not to a real one, no…."

"Damn, look, look, look, he looks so sated! He's leanin' against the display case."

Murderface's free hand slides down to his own lap, and he squeezes, rubbing.

"Feck, I'mma close! Eh!" Pickles makes a little pleasured noise, unzipping his pants, slipping his hand inside. "Ngn, yeah, c'man, stroke it!" He watches the Murderface in the video stroke his own cock, as the one next to him gives up rubbing and starts to do the same!

Murderface isn't watching the screen at all, his eyes are glued to Pickles's lap. He orgasms with a muffled cry, biting the hand he had been hiding behind.

Pickles's cry isn't muffled. It's a little shriek as he pumps his hips. "Oh gad, oh gad," he cums hard, slumping against Murderface's shoulder.

Neither of them say anything. The video fades to black for a moment. And then Seth comes on the screen. "Heh heh. Hey, bro. You enjoy yourself? Sure you did. I'd expect a generous gift of appreciation, but, then again, I think you're prolly cryin' your lil' eyes out. Heh."

He grins. "Yeah, I know you like 'im. Sad thing is, he likes you too. Heh, he's ruined now. How can you wan' him now dat I had him? And, ya know, how could he want you? William sucked off your worst enemy, huh, bro? Heh heh. What an idiot too. Didn' notice nothin' was up. Haha, you can have him, if you still want him. Later!"

"I'm sorry, Picklesch," Murderface murmurs. Pickles is still resting against him. "He, you know, ambusched me. Fhuck. You weren't schupposed to know. Maybe I am stupid."

"Don'. Don' do that. Ye're not. He's messin' wit' ya. Feck him, I'd still let you do that any day o' the week. And more den that! I'd let ya gimme anal!"

Murderface raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah really!"

"Really?"

"Yee-uh."

"Whoa."

"Well, he wasn' lying about the fact that I really like you. Maybe we could be friends that mess around, you know, friends with benefits."

"Or, you know, more. Uh. Jescht puttin' it out there."

Pickles kisses his cheek.

"Scho how're you gonna make him pay?"

"You'll see. I'll need your help, Cacksuckin' Master. Up to the jab?"

Murderface seems to not know quite how to respond at first. "Didn't practische on a million hotdogsch for nothin'!" he finally replies.