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“Ø-Øystein… I… can't…”
Only Varg's quiet whining from under the shop counter snapped Øystein out of thought. It was a long day and he was half dozing off as he typed away on his old typewriter.
He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Scooting back in his chair, he looked down at Varg with pretend contempt. The bassist was naked, hands tied behind his back, the cold floor tiles imprinted themselves into his pale skin as he kneeled on the ground.
“So fucking pathetic. When did I give you the permission to speak anyway?” Øystein groaned and pressed his booted foot against Varg's crotch a little harder.
The gag that had been used to silence him earlier now lay discarded beside the bassist, saliva was running down his chin as he had no means of cleaning this mess up. Øystein liked him way better a while ago before he chose to disobey… ‘unmuzzle’ himself… talk back.
“I… need…” Varg half sobbed, no traces of his dignity left.
His precum leaking erection strained against the sole of the guitarist's boot, Varg had never been this embarrassed in his life.
Scrutinizing his frail form intently, Øystein couldn't fail to notice his flushed cheeks. The sight of Varg left him considerably disgusted, yet intrigued. The bassist didn't know it yet but this was definitely not the last time he would be subjected to this treatment.
“You need? Who do you think you are? To me, it doesn't seem like you're in a position to make requests… you're entirely at my mercy,” Øystein sneered.
“P-please… it hurts… I promise—” Varg begged, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Shut up, you slut. You keep this up and our deal is off, do you understand?” the guitarist threatened.
Varg winced, not at the pain that the rubber underside of the other man's shoe roughly rubbing his hard cock caused him… but at the thought of him backing out of their agreement. That couldn't be how things would go now that he had withstood so much suffering to get his way.
He really needed Øystein to play lead guitar on one of his new album's tracks, he himself lacked the skills to do well enough and there wasn't much time before they'd embark to Bergen to record it next week…
Biting back his tongue, he remained quiet.
It was for the best… it was all for Burzum.
Øystein shifted his attention back to his typewriter, the bassist could only hope that all this would be over soon.
Varg had lost track of how much time he had spent under the counter, it must have been an eternity. Balls heavy between his legs, he could only hope for clemency… for release, which he understood could never come.
And then, Øystein opened his fly… there might have still been a sliver of hope for the bassist. Freeing his dick from his pants, he finally broke the silence. “You know what to do.”
And he was right, Varg could take a hint.
“...I don't know… how… I've never…” he whimpered but still shuffled closer, ready to do whatever it would take for this to end.
Only then did he realize how much his knees hurt, how the rope that Øystein had used to tie his wrists behind his back would definitely leave bruises. He had never felt this miserable in his life.
“Hm… something tells me that you do, I could always see it in your eyes,” Øystein laughed, now holding his own hard cock in one hand, centimeters away from Varg's face. “You're nothing but a pathetic little fag… and a liar. I can see that you want nothing more than my dick.”
“Kill… yourself,” Varg hissed, embarrassed by how the other man saw right through him.
Øystein didn't take his words lightly. The bassist's manhood was still completely at the mercy of his boot, using this fact to his advantage, Øystein pressed down hard, harder than ever before.
A mewl of pain tore from Varg's throat. He clenched his teeth with more force than he ever had in his life, he couldn't give in… doing so would be a death sentence.
He had no idea how long it had been by the time the pain had subsided, when Øystein withdrew his foot. Warm tears were streaming down his face, it was a good thing that the guitarist couldn't see any of that since Varg was kneeling under the counter, hidden away from his sight.
“You'll know better than to talk back to me ever again,” Øystein said, tone as domineering as ever. “Now suck. Don't try anything funny.”
Varg had a hard time keeping his balance as he leaned closer into the guitarist's lap, hesitantly taking the head of Øystein's cock between his lips, Varg could only pray that he really had the skill to give him what he wanted.
“Mm… fuck! I think you have more in you… come on, you can do so much better!” Øystein sighed at the warm and wet sensation of his mouth.
“Øystein…” Varg half whispered, despite the struggle of speaking with his mouth full.
The guitarist grabbed him by his long hair, a soft gag escaped his throat and he had no other option but to take him deeper.
“It's Euronymous to you… no pathetic whore like you gets to call me that,” Øystein scolded, pulling at his hair a little harder.
Copious amounts of saliva and precum ran down Varg's chin and Øystein's shaft, he had no strength left to try and contain it in his mouth anymore.
Varg felt as if he were choking, he was nauseous and had to shift all of his remaining willpower to the notion of not getting the lunch he had earlier that day all over the other man's pants. That wouldn't go too well for him, Varg already knew.
“You really fucking suck at this! Worst blowjob ever. If you keep up this attitude, I'm going to take hours to actually cum,” Øystein mocked. “Come on, you gotta move.”
Varg obeyed, he pulled back before hesitantly taking in the other man's cock again. He sucked hard as doing so was his only hope of suppressing the urge to throw up as it was still creeping in the back of his mind.
“Y-yeah… like this. Keep going…” Øystein groaned, caught off guard by how good it actually felt when the other man put in some effort.
Varg hated how his own cock twitched against the other man's boot when these words escaped his lips. All of this was so low from him, he couldn't believe himself anymore.
His eyes still watered as he bobbed his head back and forth, choking occasionally, his jaw hurt and he could safely conclude that he had never felt this pathetic in his life.
While Øystein was unpredictable and Varg understood the potential consequences of his actions, he couldn't help himself but impatiently grind against his foot, chasing his own release.
“Hm… good…” the guitarist praised, tugging at his hair which elicited a soft moan from Varg. “You—”
Both of them froze when the door chime rang through the shop.
Varg swallowed hard around Øystein's cock… this could not be true.
“...Salutations, comrade!” Bård chuckled as he made his way inside.
Øystein instinctively held Varg's head down. The bassist was hidden behind the counter but if Bård were to see anything, both of them would be done for.
“B-Bård, get the fuck out of here…” he hissed, trying his best to sound at least somewhat composed.
Breathing hard through his nose, Varg knew that he had to keep it down. His throat clenched around the other man's erection and despite how bad he wanted to move away and gasp for air… he knew that simply wasn't an option.
“What…” Bård laughed, not quite understanding where any of that came from. “Come on now… is Hellhammer here? I'm about to pick up this new neat pair of cymbals I ordered! He needs to see them!”
Øystein's pants were now very much soaked in Varg's spit… but Varg couldn't swallow, run damage control of any kind. Both of them were entirely at Bård's mercy, they could only wait and hope for him to leave already.
“No… man. He's out… okay? He's probably at home… or something,” the guitarist replied, face unusually flushed.
A particularly vile idea occurred to Øystein, Varg's aching cock was still within the reach of his boot, to once again begin caressing it with the rubber sole seemed like the… rational choice to make.
“Ha… seriously what has been the deal with this guy lately? It's like he doesn't even care about this place anymore… he used to be around way more often back in the day…” Bård complained, shoulders slumped in defeat as he'd have to take an extra trip over to Jan's place.
And Varg thought he'd cum right then and there. The thrill of being caught in the act… the lust that must have clouded his mind completely and entirely by now… repressing a moan, he could already feel the familiar sensation of his approaching climax pooling in his stomach.
“That's because Hellhammer is a faggot and a poser, I'm telling you,” the guitarist sighed dramatically, still holding onto Varg's hair, he twisted his fist in an attempt to cause him some additional pain and anguish.
“Hellhammer is a faggot? Since when? I don't think so! He's a cool guy… I think I'd be able to tell…” Bård defended his drummer fellow. “That Varg kid on the other hand? I wouldn't be surprised, really. He's from Bergen, they're all a bunch of fags…”
Øystein increased the pace at which he moved his foot… almost as if he knew exactly what he was doing to the bassist. If Varg's mouth wasn't filled with dick, Bård would definitely realize what exactly was going on.
“Hm… who cares about Varg anyway? I think you're onto something though. He's definitely out there somewhere… like sucking dick or something right now!” Øystein laughed, feeling Varg's warm breath on his cock… and feeling how ragged it had grown. “Go see Hellhammer though, you can tell me your observations when you come back in the evening, yeah?”
“It's a deal then, take care, man!” Bård chuckled, the shop bell rang once again and he was out of the door.
Varg knew better than to waste any time, he resumed sucking the guitarist off almost immediately. He was so close and understood that angering him would be far from ideal.
“Such a fucking slut… are you into that, hm? Bård sees right through you, you fucking whore,” Øystein hummed in pleasure.
His words did something to Varg because right at that moment, his long-anticipated orgasm finally caught up to him. Moaning desperately, he didn't stop moving his mouth along the other man's length… because maybe somehow, it made the experience way more… sensual.
Øystein withdrew his boot in time, yet the other man's seed still managed to get on the leg of his new pants… and the floor tiles, predictably.
Nearing his own climax, he had to put more effort that he really wanted to into not thrusting into the bassist's mouth… getting cum on his pants was more than enough, Varg was still audibly gagging and choking… and he didn't need him to throw up on his lap on top of that.
“Fucking pathetic.”
It didn't take much longer until Øystein finished as well, Varg sensed that and resigned his lips from his shaft in time, having the side of his face receive his load instead.
“I…” Varg half whispered.
Øystein didn't give him any space to speak his mind, sliding back in his chair, he pulled Varg up from his knees by the hair without much care.
“What would your mother say if she saw you like this? Don't you ever think about her? Doesn't she get lonely in Bergen?” the guitarist mocked, looking him in the eye.
“...Untie me… I kept my side of the deal,” Varg requested, as unconvincing as ever.
Øystein laughed, his grip on Varg's hair tight. “...I don't think I will? I'm far from done with you.”