Metalocalypse: Impending Doom

Chapter Sixteen: Salem

"Unless," Pickles had added with a twinkle in his eye, though Salem was too consumed by their thoughts to notice really. Pickles showed obvious disappointment as he began to walk away, until Salem came to. Oh? Oh.

"Wait! Sorry, I was... I be drunk," Salem slurred as they reached needily for his hand. "I got lost... in my head."

Pickles couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous statement. "'T's okie, but I mean I don't GOTTA come in..."

"I want you to," Salem insisted as they gripped the man's hand tightly and dragged him inside, shoving the door open a bit forcefully. "Let's hang out for a bit."

"Aggressive," Pickles teased, the twinkle back due to amusement, or maybe he was turned on, Salem couldn't tell. They couldn't imagine they were actually attractive to the drummer, who had probably seen a million bodies, especially in his bed... Salem flinched lightly to this but didn't allow Pickles to see.

The plants were back to normal in their room, since they had been previously wilting for whatever reason. The room was clean, much cleaner than Pickles's even though he had made it a point to clean it vigorously and try to pull the stains out whenever Salem entered that room.

Salem really wasn't sure on what to do so they just kind of sat down and immediately pulled Pickles toward them, which he took as a sign to sit on their lap. So he did, and Salem found themselves not minding when they looked up into Pickles's gentle eyes. 

Salem found themselves pressing their lips against his quivering, heated neck, and smiled, nibbling on his skin lightly. Pickles could only wrap his arms around Salem's back, clinging to them while they explored his neck and chest with their lips.

After a few minutes, Salem decided to grip Pickles's hips and flipped the both of them over so that they were on top. Pickles pulled at Salem's shirt, shakily unbuttoning the front and then pulling it open, exposing their chest. Usually they would feel self-conscious, but a shy smile played on their lips when Pickles's jaw hung loosely as his eyes raked over their lean body. Fingers dragged across their chest, then stopped hesitantly at Salem's small scars just under their pecs, feeling the rough skin gently.

This time, Salem began to feel unsure and shied away from the touch, causing Pickles to look up at them and into their eyes. "Sorry," Pickles whispered, "I jus'..." He abruptly reached to pull his own shirt off, revealing his softer torso. He placed his own hands near his chest where Salem could see two identical scars on either side, much like Salem.

"...I'm trans," Pickles whispered. "But... I... my body isn't..." Pickles waa stammering an explanation. "It's not... like yers."

"That's okay, Pickles," Salem murmured as they began to stroke Pickles's cheek softly. "It's fine just the way it is." Pickles blushed deeply and leaned forward to hide in Salem's neck, who resorted to playing with his hair. There was no actual spoken reply to them, so they asked softly, "Are you alright?"

Pickles didn't answer, but did grip their shoulders and pulled them down on top of him, their bare chests now pressed together. Pickles was physically trembling, concerning Salem but didn't want to pressure him, so they held him until he had finally stilled with a trembling inhale.

"'M sorry, I'm not good at dis," Pickles admitted, arms around Salem and stroking their bare back. "Stupid gay feelings."

"Same, you're fine," Salem laughed and said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Let's just... go with the flow."

Pickles pulled back a little so he could give a cautious kiss to Salem's lips again. Salem cupped his cheek in their hand, holding him there while they slid their tongue across his bottom lip and nibbled lightly at it.