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The air is heavy, thick with the aftermath of a well-played show. Beer sloshing, sweat dripping, and the air conditioners don’t seem to be working as well as the venue owner proposed. It doesn’t matter to either man at the moment, wedged between speakers and amps, tucked away behind the stage where prying eyes can’t see the lead singer being spoken to like a whore for hire.
Still coming off the high from another brilliant performance, pupils blown wide, Nathan lets the tall blonde’s calloused fingers grope and palm him over his clothes, grunting and mumbling curses. Skwisgaar’s hands glide across Nathan’s body, much like he caresses his Thunderhorse before a performance. Nathan’s breathing is coming in short and hot, signaling to the Swede he’s doing well. This isn’t the first time they used each other to let off pent-up frustration and desire, and probably won’t be the last. Nathan mumbles again, his voice muffled by golden locks as he laps and nips at the guitarist’s neck.
Skwisgaar hisses, bucking into Nathan’s hips as he begins to grind in slow, sensual circles. It’s not enough for the larger man; it’s never enough. He sucks on the blonde’s lobe just for a moment, voice husky as he grumbles straight onto the shell, “More.” The taller man smirks, a devilish one, if the larger man is paying attention. “So eagers, eh?” Nathan grunts in response, a greenlight for Skwisgaar. It’s easy for the Swede to pull his own cock out; he never wears underwear. Nathan, on the other hand, always had boxers on; no wonder he was always so sweaty after performing.
Skwisgaar unzips Nathan’s jeans, fishing for just a moment before pulling the other man’s cock out, as well. Tip already leaking with pearly precum, it elicits a chuckle from Skwis as Nathan just glares at him, the Swede placates the other man, “Okej, okej~” He teases, spitting what seems like an obscene amount of saliva onto his palm. Nathan is thicker and heavier, while Skwisgaar is longer and a little skinnier; he was blessed with large hands, for playing like a God, and jerking like one, too. He lets the spit fall atop the heads of their cocks pressed tight together, as the cool liquid hits the too-warm flesh, Nathan lets a low groan, Skwisgaar can’t help but feel powerful, too much, to have the lead moaning so wantonly.
It’s when Skwisgaar finally wraps his hard-working hand around both of their lengths, pumping firmly, languidly, that Nathan nearly busts right then and there. Skwis can tell as Nathan hisses, biting his lip until it bleeds. “Close? Alreadys?” The blonde teases, Nathan bucks his hips, pushing their cocks even closer together, fucking into Skwisgaar’s hand, “Feels too good.” The praise goes straight south for the boisterous guitarist, “That does it for ya, huh?” Nathan mocks, and it just makes the swede blush.
He begins stroking in earnest, spitting globs of saliva directly onto the shiny heads, the mix of precum and drool making the fondling even easier. The schlicking and grunting come to a head as Nathan begins thrusting faster into Skwis’ palm, the blonde stroking faster, his grip firmer. Skwisgaar can always tell when Nathan is going to finish, his eyes shut tight, trying to focus, and he starts to babble, almost begging for it. Not wanting to make even more of a scene as the lewd fap! fap! fap! sounds grow louder the closer they get, Skwis crashes his lips against Nathans, as his grip holds them both firmly in place, cum spewing from both cocks. Nathan shudders, the tension finally draining from him.
Skwisgaar strokes them both just a few more times, a glutton for sex, like always, overworking the already spent guitarist. Mumbling a curse, Nathan tucks himself away, suggesting to Skwis he should “probably wash his hands” as the majority of their combined release slipped onto the floor. Skwis still had a decent amount stuck to his palm and fingers. The guitarist sighed and headed to the green room. It was supposed to be a quick routine for both of them, but it always left him wanting, aching for more.