Story: With A Branded Skin
Author: VodkaKeepsYouWarm
Band: Finntroll
Characters: Mathias (Vreth) Lillmåns,Samuli (Skrymer) Ponsimaa
Genre: Slash
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I repeat, only fiction. I don't claim that anything written here was, is or will be real. It is based on my personal perceptions and interpretations, and fun. Only that. I mean no harm to the bands and people I use as inspiration: I respect them all too much to bear malice towards them. I support the bands in any way possible and I make no profit based on what I write other than entertainment.
Notes: Skrymer/Vreth. Set in 2007, soon after Vreth joined in 2006. WARNING: NON-CON, verbal and physical ABUSE. Aaaand I’m back guys~ With a Finntroll piece I wrote back in April. Inspired by me making the two Finntroll interviews on the Metal Retardation DVD a lot more dramatic than they are. One of which is here. Beta-ed and reviewed first by the lovely constant-illuminations who boosted my courage until I could post it here. Enjoy!
читать дальше“I should be having fun,” Mathias told himself as he looked around him: the dirt streets were packed with metal heads - fans, some of them - all there for the festival. It was a big one, and it was Mathias’ first festival since he had joined Finntroll. It really should’ve been a nice experience, but something annoyed the singer. A detail, really, nothing important. At least in the eyes of the other members of the band.
They had been approached on the first day of the festival by a team of interviewers from a b-movie production company. They came out of nowhere and showed up directly at their van too, but they had seemed like fun people. The director insisted that the interview wouldn’t be formal at all. The questions were fun and the band could get drunk as much as they wanted and still answer.
“The crazier, the better,” the director had encouraged.
The band obliged, the perspective of unlimited drinking pleasing everyone. They set the van, drank, checked on their instruments, drank, practiced a bit, determined the set list for their upcoming show and then drank some more. When the evening came, and with it the hour of the interview, they were all in various states of drunkenness. Mikael was particularly entertaining, made more vocal than usual by the alcohol, which also dimmed his capacities to speak in English. Overall, the interview went well and everyone did have fun telling of weird tour anecdotes, like that time a very drunk Mikael passed out on a cactus during a tour in Germany, and so on.
One question made it all derail though: Mathias was asked what he brought to the band as their newest member. Not as drunk as the others, the vocalist didn’t answer right away… And that was the problem. He had to think about it. He froze, unable to answer. Just what did he bring to the band? Of course, he had been chosen for his voice. He was their frontman, he growled on stage and entertained the crowed. But that was it. Any singer could do that. It was basic. All the singers of Finntroll before him did the same. He wasn’t any special. He couldn’t do clear vocals, Sami did those. He couldn’t play an instrument. He never wrote any lyrics, not that he could write as well as Katla anyway. He didn’t have a place in the creative process behind their songs yet. Hell, he couldn’t even do his stage make up himself! Samuli did it every single time for him. So, in front of a question like “what do you bring to the band”, he had no answer.
“I don’t know… What do I bring?” he replied and laughed it off, as if to dismiss the bitter feeling left by the realization of his apparent uselessness.
No one noticed how uneasy he felt. The rest of the band members were all so drunk and jolly, they laughed with him and added comments about how he brought very little to them aside from the girls that flocked to him because of his good looks. The question was resolved with smiles and pats on the back. And the interview moved on. But Mathias didn't.
Of course, it had stayed in his mind for the entire duration of the festival. He tried his best not to show anything. It wasn’t the time nor the place to be doubting himself. He was Finntroll’s new full time singer, and that should suffice. Or at least, that’s what he told himself before going on stage.
It was the last night of the festival now. Finntroll wasn’t playing, so everyone went off on their own to enjoy themselves and the bands that had yet to play. Mathias searched for a place to get drunk, and ended up in a small bar a few streets from the festival grounds. He chose a table to the far end of the place, sat, ordered beers and didn’t move from his spot for hours. He didn’t feel like having fun with everyone else. This damned question about his worth didn’t leave his mind and gave him headaches. It was time to get drunk, really drunk. Anything to forget how one stupid question could nag him so much and make him lose his motivation.
It was after a large number of beers - he just couldn’t count anymore, and didn’t care - that he was joined by Samuli. A very angry Samuli, by the looks of him.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
His voice was almost a snarl. Mathias could detect a slight slur caused by alcohol in there, but the guitarist looked a lot more sane and capable than him.
“’Have been here all along.” Mathias looked up to Samuli with furrowed brows. “Why?”
Samuli closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“You forgot, haven’t you?”
Mathias was just about to ask what he had forgotten, when it came back to him through a swirl of drunken thoughts. Him and Samuli had agreed to give the nice guys from before another interview, more in dept, about the band’s lyrics and artwork and what not. Tonight.
“Oh,” he answered as he looked at the beer in his hand, downed what was left of it and went back to the guitarist. “I can do the - hey, could I get another? Thanks - I can do the interview just fine.”
“Sure you can.”
If the sarcasm wasn’t clear enough, Samuli also rolled his eyes. Mathias shot him a glare. The other musician sighed but pulled a chair next to the vocalist and sat down. This was going to be a long night…
***
A train wreck. The interview had been nothing short of a train wreck.
One of the girls asking the questions insisted on sitting on Samuli’s lap during the whole thing and she was almost as drunk as Mathias. She couldn’t even hold herself straight in that position. She slurred her questions, asked them three or four times in a row, didn’t understand the answers, and spoke way too loud. Her loudness didn’t do Mathias’ headache well.
The frontman couldn’t follow the questions. He looked far away and came back once in a while to chime in with rather ridiculous comments. He stated that he was wasted more times than he actually answered anything. He dropped a beer because he couldn’t see where the table was and shattered the glass on the floor. The poor people from the bar were forced to clean up his mess and then bring him more beers, since he asked for that about fifty times during the interview. At some point he only gestured towards his empty glass and appeared as he couldn’t even formulate words anymore. He looked like an alcoholic, for god’s sake. On camera.
Samuli had tried to keep it together. He held the girl on his lap, tried to answer as many questions as possible and drank at the same time. His English was a bit broken but he still tried his best to provide serious answers. Questions about the band members’ nicknames, about his artwork, about hygiene after concerts. At the same time, he grew more furious by the minute. At first, he mocked Mathias’ actions or only ignored them. He rolled his eyes, disappointed, in silence. But Mathias started to get more and more out of hand. When he spilled his beer over the interviewer, Samuli took the glass away from him. When he broke said glass, Samuli apologized himself to the staff of the bar. When he was being a bitch about getting another beer, Samuli slapped his hands away and shot him death glares that would make anyone freeze, except for a certain drunk singer.
“Is it possible to get another… ‘Cause it seems I’ve lost my…” Mathias slurred in reference to his broken beer.
“Stop. Let’s make an interview.”
“Is it possible actually to get a-”
“No. We’re gonna do an interview now.”
“No I want a-”
“Shut up.”
But the situation didn’t get any better. When Mathias kicked a chair from a nearby table over, Samuli looked just about to snap. A staff member came to pick the chair up but it barely calmed him down. While he was trying to seriously answer a questions about his artwork and the creative process behind his drawings for the band, Mathias would not stop complaining about why he didn’t get a new beer yet…
***
Luckily, the bar had to close and everyone got graciously kicked out before Samuli lost his temper and before Mathias destroyed the whole place. The interview came to an abrupt end, which was for the best. On the street outside of the bar, the interviewers thanked both the musicians for their time and the footage, then left for the festival campgrounds. Mathias started to walk that way too but Samuli wasn’t done with him yet. Not after he fucked up so much.
As soon as they were alone on the street, Samuli caught Mathias by the hair and yanked him back. Hard. The singer winced. His hands shot for Samuli’s fingers and tried to loosen their grip.
“What the fuck!” he spat, but nothing would do.
Samuli dragged him by the hair to the side of the building in a small alleyway, deserted and without lights. Mathias tried to dig his feet into the ground, resisting. The combination of the dim night light and his drunk state made it impossible to walk straight. He nearly tripped; Samuli held him up by his hair only. Tears dawned at the corner of Mathias’ eyes.
“Let me go!” he screeched as he tried to get back up properly.
Samuli snapped his tongue. They were far enough. He did let Mathias’ hair go, but shoved him violently against the used brick wall behind them. Mathias’ head hit the bricks, and his world started to spin. He held his breath and bit his bottom lip in an effort to make the spinning stop. Samuli didn't care enough to let him regain his senses, holding him strongly against the wall by the shoulders.
“Look at me.”
Mathias barely even heard him. Eyes half closed, he worked on the regulation of his breath, and tried as hard as he could to fight the urge to throw up that the spinning caused. Samuli wasn’t about to let him have his peace.
“I’ve had enough.”
He slapped him. A wide, resonating, stinging slap, strong enough to throw Mathias’ head to the side. The singer opened his eyes wide, shocked. He slowly turned his head to the guitarist and stared at him. Samuli’s eyes were filled with anger. There was a darkness there that Mathias had never seen before. Of course, he had learned fast that his fellow musician had quite the temper, but this was something else entirely.
“You’ve had your fun?” Samuli threatened.
Mathias didn’t answer but somehow, he understood that adverting his eyes was a bad idea.
“What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea of what you’ve done back there?”
Silence. Samuli let out a low, pissed off growl. Mathias almost lowered his eyes.
“You acted like a fucking idiot, that’s what. In front of a damned camera. That interview is going on the web, in a magazine and on a fucking DVD. You made me look bad. You made the band look bad. You-”
Mathias needed Samuli to step back from him at this very moment, so he spat at his face, hoping it would faze him. He wasn’t going to stand back and take the guitarist’s blames! In response, another mean slap stung his cheek. Harder than the first one. It was hard enough to dissipate some of the singer’s drunkenness. His thoughts were a bit clearer but that didn’t help much, just dissipated his nausea.
“Fuck off Samuli. Mind your own busi-ugh!”
Samuli’s fingers wrapped swiftly around Mathias’ neck, right under his chin, and held him up with enough strength to lift his heels from the ground slightly. The singer gasped, trying to intake some air, but his breath stayed stuck in his throat, crushed by Samuli’s hand. The guitarist’s fingers were long enough to warp around Mathias’ frail neck and touch the bricks with the fingertips.
“You do not talk back to me.” A bit more pressure. “Ever.”
Mathias made a desperate high pitched noise in an attempt to get some air flowing in his lungs, without avail. Samuli made his point clear by holding his grip firmly for a few more moments, before finally loosening it. The singer’s heels hit the ground suddenly and he almost flopped forward, coughing, but Samuli pushed him back against the wall right away.
“Do not cross me. You better remember this if you want to stay in the band.”
Head low, Mathias coughed a small “whatever”, only to satisfy the guitarist. Samuli pushed his fingers and palm against Mathias’ neck, and used his thumb under his chin to force him to raise his head and look into his eyes.
“You’ve been a mess for the past few days. We’ve noticed. We’re not stupid. You’re worried about your role in the band? Let me clear that up.” Samuli’s voice got darker and darker with each word. “You are nothing but a pretty face. That’s your only damned worth. Your job is to make us look good. You shut the fuck up, you show up on stage, take your shirt off, growl a few songs, get us fans because you’re handsome, and that’s it. Do you understand me?”
Mathias opened his mouth to answer back, to deny it, but he couldn’t. Samuli’s words cut deep. But more than that, they hurt harshly because they confirmed what the singer had feared. Not that he felt Henri and the others had chosen him only because of his looks but, well… He had searched and searched and so far, it didn’t appear like he had more worth than that. Hearing it from Samuli’s mouth only made it real and unavoidable.
The defiance in his eyes melted. Something in his expression must’ve signified that he gave up because Samuli smirked at him.
“That’s it. That defeated look. That’s the attitude you should have. I don’t want to see the defiant bitch from before again.”
He looked quite satisfied. His fingers softened around Mathias’ neck but didn’t leave. He pressed the vocalist in the wall with more of his body now, diminishing the space between them. The vocalist wanted to push him away and leave, but Samuli had made it obvious that it wouldn’t help his cause.
One thing was clear: Mathias wanted to stay in the band. Finntroll was the biggest project he’d been part of to date. Being accepted as the band’s frontman was a chance that he didn’t want to let go of. As Samuli pressed even closer, as he breathed on his neck just above his fingers, Mathias felt his skin crawl. His instincts told him to kick him in the guts and to run away. His head didn’t share the desire and forced him to remain still. Who knew if Samuli wouldn’t talk against him to the other band members if he was to fight him now?
As if he’d read his thoughts, Samuli spoke again.
“You gotta learn to do good and to please us, to please me, if you want to stay in the band. Are we clear?”
Mathias nodded weakly, eyes resolutely fixed on the ground. Samuli chuckled, his lips almost touching the skin of his neck. The singer could feel his grin, physically. He shook and stretched his neck to the side in an attempt to subtract himself from the touch.
“Now,” Samuli spoke against his skin. “Let’s try pleasing me, shall we? You have a lot of work to do if you want to be forgiven. That was a shitty interview after all…”
He let his words trail off as he stepped from Mathias slightly. The singer gave him a worried look, as if he knew what was about to happen.
“No,” he whispered.
The guitarist reached for his neck again. Mathias twitched and backed down into the wall as far as he could. He searched for an opening in the other man’s behavior which he could use to escape and get back to the festival grounds, but nothing. Samuli seemed used to this kind of situation. His gaze was sharp and followed each of his reactions. No chance of making a run for it.
“Samuli please. This is getting out of hand.”
“It’s not. I just have my own ways to get my message across.”
Samuli grabbed Mathias’ hair again before he could avoid him, and took hold of a good lock of hair, close to the scalp. With one eye shut tight, Mathias gritted his teeth.
“I get it!” His voice was higher now, more distressed. “About the interview and being drunk and all, I get all of it. I won’t do it again, just-”
Samuli sighed.
“You talk and talk. Just like earlier, you wont shut up. It’s time we put that pretty mouth of yours to better use.”
With that, Samuli tried to push Mathias to the ground. The vocalist resisted, growing more and more aware of the peril he was in. Not disposed to take his bullshit, Samuli kicked his shinbone. Mathias felt the pain throughout his body, radiating like an electric shock, and his legs bucked under him despite his resistance. He fell to his knees abruptly. He took shaky breaths in as Samuli, with his free hand, started working on his belt buckle.
“No…” Mathias pleaded. Samuli undid the button of his pants.
“Not here…” he tried again. The guitarist lowered his zipper, grinning widely.
“You better try to be as silent as possible then. Wouldn’t want people to hear you from the street and come see what the commotion is about, would you?”
Mathias whimpered in defeat. Samuli’s fingers were holding on his hair tight enough to hurt. Pants undone, the musician kept working on freeing himself from his clothes, pulling on the waistband of his underwear. He was already half hard. Mathias stared, at a loss, wondering just what had turned him on so much: the anger? The violence? His protests? Inside of him brewed a newfound fear for his bandmate.
“Come on,” Samuli urged him, but despite the pain in his scalp, Mathias tried his best to turn his head away.
The guitarist sighed once again. The singer could really be a pain in the ass when he wanted. Too bad that he wasn’t in the mood to fool around. Bending down over Mathias, he reached for his neck again and this time didn’t let him avoid his fingers. He clutched around his neck, ever harder. He didn’t care about controlling his strength anymore. As predicted, Mathias struggled wildly and, instincts overtaking his reason, opened his mouth, gasping for air. Holding Mathias’ head firmly in place, Samuli took the occasion to push himself in his bandmate’s mouth.
“-nng!”
Mathias thrashed around, refusing the invasion of his mouth. Samuli bit his bottom lip as he looked upon him: so distressed, so offended. Definitely a good look for him. He let him breathe again, showed his goodwill. Mathias gasped again, trying to get some air, lips quivering around his cock. The guitarist smirked. Hands back in the vocalist’s hair, he imposed a rhythm to his movements, rough, impatient. He could hear some muffled protests but didn’t care, concentrating instead on the feeling of Mathias’ mouth. It wasn’t bad, but the singer was clumsy.
“Surely you can do better than this,” he warned in a low voice, which turned into an angry hiss when in response, Mathias made him feel his teeth. He jerked Mathias’ head backward, off his cock, and slapped him again. And again. And again, repeatedly, until Mathias couldn’t hold his moans in anymore and gave him the pleasure of hearing his pained voice. And what a voice, deliciously strained and hurt, perfect enough for Samuli to shiver slightly in pleasure. He wanted to slap him more, but the threat would hold less significance if he abused so soon in the game.
“Last chance,” he stated, hand raised. “It would be stupid to compromise your place in the band because of a bad blow job. I trust you’ll agree.”
In Mathias’ eyes, he saw all of his inner struggle. The shame, the need to fit in, how disgraced he felt, how he desired to be useful to the band, to be needed… He opened his lips again, by himself.
“That’s it,” Samuli purred as he slid back in his mouth, smoother this time, more welcoming.
He set his rhythm again, slower at first because Mathias was finally working his tongue on him, properly lapping at his length and tip as Samuli trusted in and out. Better. He picked up speed. With small steps forward, he pushed Mathias’ back and head into the brick wall. The frail man lost his balance and had to grip Samuli’s pants with both hands to steady himself as the guitarist throughly fucked his mouth, deeper with each thrust. Mathias barely stopped himself from choking. Eyes shut tight, tears trailing from their corners, he concentrated all his will into the control of his gag reflex. He wasn’t used to such treatment at all. Every time he failed to hold back a choking sound, he could feel Samuli’s cock pulse in his mouth. His struggle turned Samuli on immensely. The guitarist threw his head backward, hair flowing in time with his frantic trusts. For a moment, he abandoned himself completely to his senses and the sporadic feeling of Mathias’ throat clutching around him in objection. He groaned in satisfaction as the peek of his pleasure got closer. Mathias whimpered; the back of his head was hitting the bricks with each one of Samuli’s now disorganized hip movements, and he knew that the man was getting there.
“Take it,” came the low rumble of his bandmate’s voice made even lower by his pleasure, and Mathias braced himself.
Samuli came in his mouth in a long, rough and blatantly satisfied growl. The vocalist did everything in his power not to cough. Lips tight around Samuli’s cock as he pulled out, he obediently swallowed all he could. He had been entirely defeated. Samuli pulled him back up on his feet, by the collar of his tank top this time, and drew his hand close to his face. Mathias winced away in fear of another slap but his bandmate only wiped what remained of his cum off his lips. Mathias looked up to him: the darkness in his eyes was half gone, replaced by the glossy look that followed a good orgasm.
“Wasn’t so bad.”
Samuli quirked his lips in a small smirk as he put some order back in Mathias’ hair. He had no desire to show the rest of the world and their fans how he had roughed up his singer.
“That’s how you’ll be of use to me. As of how you'll be useful to the band, we'll see.”
This statement acted like a cold shower for Mathias. The motivation behind Samuli’s actions rushed back to him all at once, and he jerked his head away from the guitarist’s fingers.
“Fine. Fine. Do it yourself. Look presentable at least.”
Samuli stepped back from him, hands held up to mock him before he pulled his pants back on. Mathias did as told, untangling his hair with shaky hands. Be of use to the band… Surely Henri and the others couldn’t know of Samuli’s methods, right?
“I’ll tell them…” he whispered, using this threat as his last defense.
For a second, Samuli froze, belt in hand. Then burst out laughing loudly and buckled his belt as if the vocalist’s words were nothing.
“You do that. Go tell them and see what happens.”
He chuckled, unconcerned. That’s when Mathias knew. The truth stung him, full force: this was usual Samuli behavior, or at least behavior that didn’t surprise the members of Finntroll anymore. If the others didn’t agree with him, they at least didn’t oppose him. Which was worse, he didn’t know.
After a moment, Samuli judged they both looked as normal as could be and made his way to the main street nearby. Mathias had no choice but to fall in his steps, still shocked. No matter where he looked, he found no way out of his newfound reality. And he hated it.
Author: VodkaKeepsYouWarm
Band: Finntroll
Characters: Mathias (Vreth) Lillmåns,Samuli (Skrymer) Ponsimaa
Genre: Slash
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I repeat, only fiction. I don't claim that anything written here was, is or will be real. It is based on my personal perceptions and interpretations, and fun. Only that. I mean no harm to the bands and people I use as inspiration: I respect them all too much to bear malice towards them. I support the bands in any way possible and I make no profit based on what I write other than entertainment.
Notes: Skrymer/Vreth. Set in 2007, soon after Vreth joined in 2006. WARNING: NON-CON, verbal and physical ABUSE. Aaaand I’m back guys~ With a Finntroll piece I wrote back in April. Inspired by me making the two Finntroll interviews on the Metal Retardation DVD a lot more dramatic than they are. One of which is here. Beta-ed and reviewed first by the lovely constant-illuminations who boosted my courage until I could post it here. Enjoy!
читать дальше“I should be having fun,” Mathias told himself as he looked around him: the dirt streets were packed with metal heads - fans, some of them - all there for the festival. It was a big one, and it was Mathias’ first festival since he had joined Finntroll. It really should’ve been a nice experience, but something annoyed the singer. A detail, really, nothing important. At least in the eyes of the other members of the band.
They had been approached on the first day of the festival by a team of interviewers from a b-movie production company. They came out of nowhere and showed up directly at their van too, but they had seemed like fun people. The director insisted that the interview wouldn’t be formal at all. The questions were fun and the band could get drunk as much as they wanted and still answer.
“The crazier, the better,” the director had encouraged.
The band obliged, the perspective of unlimited drinking pleasing everyone. They set the van, drank, checked on their instruments, drank, practiced a bit, determined the set list for their upcoming show and then drank some more. When the evening came, and with it the hour of the interview, they were all in various states of drunkenness. Mikael was particularly entertaining, made more vocal than usual by the alcohol, which also dimmed his capacities to speak in English. Overall, the interview went well and everyone did have fun telling of weird tour anecdotes, like that time a very drunk Mikael passed out on a cactus during a tour in Germany, and so on.
One question made it all derail though: Mathias was asked what he brought to the band as their newest member. Not as drunk as the others, the vocalist didn’t answer right away… And that was the problem. He had to think about it. He froze, unable to answer. Just what did he bring to the band? Of course, he had been chosen for his voice. He was their frontman, he growled on stage and entertained the crowed. But that was it. Any singer could do that. It was basic. All the singers of Finntroll before him did the same. He wasn’t any special. He couldn’t do clear vocals, Sami did those. He couldn’t play an instrument. He never wrote any lyrics, not that he could write as well as Katla anyway. He didn’t have a place in the creative process behind their songs yet. Hell, he couldn’t even do his stage make up himself! Samuli did it every single time for him. So, in front of a question like “what do you bring to the band”, he had no answer.
“I don’t know… What do I bring?” he replied and laughed it off, as if to dismiss the bitter feeling left by the realization of his apparent uselessness.
No one noticed how uneasy he felt. The rest of the band members were all so drunk and jolly, they laughed with him and added comments about how he brought very little to them aside from the girls that flocked to him because of his good looks. The question was resolved with smiles and pats on the back. And the interview moved on. But Mathias didn't.
Of course, it had stayed in his mind for the entire duration of the festival. He tried his best not to show anything. It wasn’t the time nor the place to be doubting himself. He was Finntroll’s new full time singer, and that should suffice. Or at least, that’s what he told himself before going on stage.
It was the last night of the festival now. Finntroll wasn’t playing, so everyone went off on their own to enjoy themselves and the bands that had yet to play. Mathias searched for a place to get drunk, and ended up in a small bar a few streets from the festival grounds. He chose a table to the far end of the place, sat, ordered beers and didn’t move from his spot for hours. He didn’t feel like having fun with everyone else. This damned question about his worth didn’t leave his mind and gave him headaches. It was time to get drunk, really drunk. Anything to forget how one stupid question could nag him so much and make him lose his motivation.
It was after a large number of beers - he just couldn’t count anymore, and didn’t care - that he was joined by Samuli. A very angry Samuli, by the looks of him.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
His voice was almost a snarl. Mathias could detect a slight slur caused by alcohol in there, but the guitarist looked a lot more sane and capable than him.
“’Have been here all along.” Mathias looked up to Samuli with furrowed brows. “Why?”
Samuli closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“You forgot, haven’t you?”
Mathias was just about to ask what he had forgotten, when it came back to him through a swirl of drunken thoughts. Him and Samuli had agreed to give the nice guys from before another interview, more in dept, about the band’s lyrics and artwork and what not. Tonight.
“Oh,” he answered as he looked at the beer in his hand, downed what was left of it and went back to the guitarist. “I can do the - hey, could I get another? Thanks - I can do the interview just fine.”
“Sure you can.”
If the sarcasm wasn’t clear enough, Samuli also rolled his eyes. Mathias shot him a glare. The other musician sighed but pulled a chair next to the vocalist and sat down. This was going to be a long night…
***
A train wreck. The interview had been nothing short of a train wreck.
One of the girls asking the questions insisted on sitting on Samuli’s lap during the whole thing and she was almost as drunk as Mathias. She couldn’t even hold herself straight in that position. She slurred her questions, asked them three or four times in a row, didn’t understand the answers, and spoke way too loud. Her loudness didn’t do Mathias’ headache well.
The frontman couldn’t follow the questions. He looked far away and came back once in a while to chime in with rather ridiculous comments. He stated that he was wasted more times than he actually answered anything. He dropped a beer because he couldn’t see where the table was and shattered the glass on the floor. The poor people from the bar were forced to clean up his mess and then bring him more beers, since he asked for that about fifty times during the interview. At some point he only gestured towards his empty glass and appeared as he couldn’t even formulate words anymore. He looked like an alcoholic, for god’s sake. On camera.
Samuli had tried to keep it together. He held the girl on his lap, tried to answer as many questions as possible and drank at the same time. His English was a bit broken but he still tried his best to provide serious answers. Questions about the band members’ nicknames, about his artwork, about hygiene after concerts. At the same time, he grew more furious by the minute. At first, he mocked Mathias’ actions or only ignored them. He rolled his eyes, disappointed, in silence. But Mathias started to get more and more out of hand. When he spilled his beer over the interviewer, Samuli took the glass away from him. When he broke said glass, Samuli apologized himself to the staff of the bar. When he was being a bitch about getting another beer, Samuli slapped his hands away and shot him death glares that would make anyone freeze, except for a certain drunk singer.
“Is it possible to get another… ‘Cause it seems I’ve lost my…” Mathias slurred in reference to his broken beer.
“Stop. Let’s make an interview.”
“Is it possible actually to get a-”
“No. We’re gonna do an interview now.”
“No I want a-”
“Shut up.”
But the situation didn’t get any better. When Mathias kicked a chair from a nearby table over, Samuli looked just about to snap. A staff member came to pick the chair up but it barely calmed him down. While he was trying to seriously answer a questions about his artwork and the creative process behind his drawings for the band, Mathias would not stop complaining about why he didn’t get a new beer yet…
***
Luckily, the bar had to close and everyone got graciously kicked out before Samuli lost his temper and before Mathias destroyed the whole place. The interview came to an abrupt end, which was for the best. On the street outside of the bar, the interviewers thanked both the musicians for their time and the footage, then left for the festival campgrounds. Mathias started to walk that way too but Samuli wasn’t done with him yet. Not after he fucked up so much.
As soon as they were alone on the street, Samuli caught Mathias by the hair and yanked him back. Hard. The singer winced. His hands shot for Samuli’s fingers and tried to loosen their grip.
“What the fuck!” he spat, but nothing would do.
Samuli dragged him by the hair to the side of the building in a small alleyway, deserted and without lights. Mathias tried to dig his feet into the ground, resisting. The combination of the dim night light and his drunk state made it impossible to walk straight. He nearly tripped; Samuli held him up by his hair only. Tears dawned at the corner of Mathias’ eyes.
“Let me go!” he screeched as he tried to get back up properly.
Samuli snapped his tongue. They were far enough. He did let Mathias’ hair go, but shoved him violently against the used brick wall behind them. Mathias’ head hit the bricks, and his world started to spin. He held his breath and bit his bottom lip in an effort to make the spinning stop. Samuli didn't care enough to let him regain his senses, holding him strongly against the wall by the shoulders.
“Look at me.”
Mathias barely even heard him. Eyes half closed, he worked on the regulation of his breath, and tried as hard as he could to fight the urge to throw up that the spinning caused. Samuli wasn’t about to let him have his peace.
“I’ve had enough.”
He slapped him. A wide, resonating, stinging slap, strong enough to throw Mathias’ head to the side. The singer opened his eyes wide, shocked. He slowly turned his head to the guitarist and stared at him. Samuli’s eyes were filled with anger. There was a darkness there that Mathias had never seen before. Of course, he had learned fast that his fellow musician had quite the temper, but this was something else entirely.
“You’ve had your fun?” Samuli threatened.
Mathias didn’t answer but somehow, he understood that adverting his eyes was a bad idea.
“What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea of what you’ve done back there?”
Silence. Samuli let out a low, pissed off growl. Mathias almost lowered his eyes.
“You acted like a fucking idiot, that’s what. In front of a damned camera. That interview is going on the web, in a magazine and on a fucking DVD. You made me look bad. You made the band look bad. You-”
Mathias needed Samuli to step back from him at this very moment, so he spat at his face, hoping it would faze him. He wasn’t going to stand back and take the guitarist’s blames! In response, another mean slap stung his cheek. Harder than the first one. It was hard enough to dissipate some of the singer’s drunkenness. His thoughts were a bit clearer but that didn’t help much, just dissipated his nausea.
“Fuck off Samuli. Mind your own busi-ugh!”
Samuli’s fingers wrapped swiftly around Mathias’ neck, right under his chin, and held him up with enough strength to lift his heels from the ground slightly. The singer gasped, trying to intake some air, but his breath stayed stuck in his throat, crushed by Samuli’s hand. The guitarist’s fingers were long enough to warp around Mathias’ frail neck and touch the bricks with the fingertips.
“You do not talk back to me.” A bit more pressure. “Ever.”
Mathias made a desperate high pitched noise in an attempt to get some air flowing in his lungs, without avail. Samuli made his point clear by holding his grip firmly for a few more moments, before finally loosening it. The singer’s heels hit the ground suddenly and he almost flopped forward, coughing, but Samuli pushed him back against the wall right away.
“Do not cross me. You better remember this if you want to stay in the band.”
Head low, Mathias coughed a small “whatever”, only to satisfy the guitarist. Samuli pushed his fingers and palm against Mathias’ neck, and used his thumb under his chin to force him to raise his head and look into his eyes.
“You’ve been a mess for the past few days. We’ve noticed. We’re not stupid. You’re worried about your role in the band? Let me clear that up.” Samuli’s voice got darker and darker with each word. “You are nothing but a pretty face. That’s your only damned worth. Your job is to make us look good. You shut the fuck up, you show up on stage, take your shirt off, growl a few songs, get us fans because you’re handsome, and that’s it. Do you understand me?”
Mathias opened his mouth to answer back, to deny it, but he couldn’t. Samuli’s words cut deep. But more than that, they hurt harshly because they confirmed what the singer had feared. Not that he felt Henri and the others had chosen him only because of his looks but, well… He had searched and searched and so far, it didn’t appear like he had more worth than that. Hearing it from Samuli’s mouth only made it real and unavoidable.
The defiance in his eyes melted. Something in his expression must’ve signified that he gave up because Samuli smirked at him.
“That’s it. That defeated look. That’s the attitude you should have. I don’t want to see the defiant bitch from before again.”
He looked quite satisfied. His fingers softened around Mathias’ neck but didn’t leave. He pressed the vocalist in the wall with more of his body now, diminishing the space between them. The vocalist wanted to push him away and leave, but Samuli had made it obvious that it wouldn’t help his cause.
One thing was clear: Mathias wanted to stay in the band. Finntroll was the biggest project he’d been part of to date. Being accepted as the band’s frontman was a chance that he didn’t want to let go of. As Samuli pressed even closer, as he breathed on his neck just above his fingers, Mathias felt his skin crawl. His instincts told him to kick him in the guts and to run away. His head didn’t share the desire and forced him to remain still. Who knew if Samuli wouldn’t talk against him to the other band members if he was to fight him now?
As if he’d read his thoughts, Samuli spoke again.
“You gotta learn to do good and to please us, to please me, if you want to stay in the band. Are we clear?”
Mathias nodded weakly, eyes resolutely fixed on the ground. Samuli chuckled, his lips almost touching the skin of his neck. The singer could feel his grin, physically. He shook and stretched his neck to the side in an attempt to subtract himself from the touch.
“Now,” Samuli spoke against his skin. “Let’s try pleasing me, shall we? You have a lot of work to do if you want to be forgiven. That was a shitty interview after all…”
He let his words trail off as he stepped from Mathias slightly. The singer gave him a worried look, as if he knew what was about to happen.
“No,” he whispered.
The guitarist reached for his neck again. Mathias twitched and backed down into the wall as far as he could. He searched for an opening in the other man’s behavior which he could use to escape and get back to the festival grounds, but nothing. Samuli seemed used to this kind of situation. His gaze was sharp and followed each of his reactions. No chance of making a run for it.
“Samuli please. This is getting out of hand.”
“It’s not. I just have my own ways to get my message across.”
Samuli grabbed Mathias’ hair again before he could avoid him, and took hold of a good lock of hair, close to the scalp. With one eye shut tight, Mathias gritted his teeth.
“I get it!” His voice was higher now, more distressed. “About the interview and being drunk and all, I get all of it. I won’t do it again, just-”
Samuli sighed.
“You talk and talk. Just like earlier, you wont shut up. It’s time we put that pretty mouth of yours to better use.”
With that, Samuli tried to push Mathias to the ground. The vocalist resisted, growing more and more aware of the peril he was in. Not disposed to take his bullshit, Samuli kicked his shinbone. Mathias felt the pain throughout his body, radiating like an electric shock, and his legs bucked under him despite his resistance. He fell to his knees abruptly. He took shaky breaths in as Samuli, with his free hand, started working on his belt buckle.
“No…” Mathias pleaded. Samuli undid the button of his pants.
“Not here…” he tried again. The guitarist lowered his zipper, grinning widely.
“You better try to be as silent as possible then. Wouldn’t want people to hear you from the street and come see what the commotion is about, would you?”
Mathias whimpered in defeat. Samuli’s fingers were holding on his hair tight enough to hurt. Pants undone, the musician kept working on freeing himself from his clothes, pulling on the waistband of his underwear. He was already half hard. Mathias stared, at a loss, wondering just what had turned him on so much: the anger? The violence? His protests? Inside of him brewed a newfound fear for his bandmate.
“Come on,” Samuli urged him, but despite the pain in his scalp, Mathias tried his best to turn his head away.
The guitarist sighed once again. The singer could really be a pain in the ass when he wanted. Too bad that he wasn’t in the mood to fool around. Bending down over Mathias, he reached for his neck again and this time didn’t let him avoid his fingers. He clutched around his neck, ever harder. He didn’t care about controlling his strength anymore. As predicted, Mathias struggled wildly and, instincts overtaking his reason, opened his mouth, gasping for air. Holding Mathias’ head firmly in place, Samuli took the occasion to push himself in his bandmate’s mouth.
“-nng!”
Mathias thrashed around, refusing the invasion of his mouth. Samuli bit his bottom lip as he looked upon him: so distressed, so offended. Definitely a good look for him. He let him breathe again, showed his goodwill. Mathias gasped again, trying to get some air, lips quivering around his cock. The guitarist smirked. Hands back in the vocalist’s hair, he imposed a rhythm to his movements, rough, impatient. He could hear some muffled protests but didn’t care, concentrating instead on the feeling of Mathias’ mouth. It wasn’t bad, but the singer was clumsy.
“Surely you can do better than this,” he warned in a low voice, which turned into an angry hiss when in response, Mathias made him feel his teeth. He jerked Mathias’ head backward, off his cock, and slapped him again. And again. And again, repeatedly, until Mathias couldn’t hold his moans in anymore and gave him the pleasure of hearing his pained voice. And what a voice, deliciously strained and hurt, perfect enough for Samuli to shiver slightly in pleasure. He wanted to slap him more, but the threat would hold less significance if he abused so soon in the game.
“Last chance,” he stated, hand raised. “It would be stupid to compromise your place in the band because of a bad blow job. I trust you’ll agree.”
In Mathias’ eyes, he saw all of his inner struggle. The shame, the need to fit in, how disgraced he felt, how he desired to be useful to the band, to be needed… He opened his lips again, by himself.
“That’s it,” Samuli purred as he slid back in his mouth, smoother this time, more welcoming.
He set his rhythm again, slower at first because Mathias was finally working his tongue on him, properly lapping at his length and tip as Samuli trusted in and out. Better. He picked up speed. With small steps forward, he pushed Mathias’ back and head into the brick wall. The frail man lost his balance and had to grip Samuli’s pants with both hands to steady himself as the guitarist throughly fucked his mouth, deeper with each thrust. Mathias barely stopped himself from choking. Eyes shut tight, tears trailing from their corners, he concentrated all his will into the control of his gag reflex. He wasn’t used to such treatment at all. Every time he failed to hold back a choking sound, he could feel Samuli’s cock pulse in his mouth. His struggle turned Samuli on immensely. The guitarist threw his head backward, hair flowing in time with his frantic trusts. For a moment, he abandoned himself completely to his senses and the sporadic feeling of Mathias’ throat clutching around him in objection. He groaned in satisfaction as the peek of his pleasure got closer. Mathias whimpered; the back of his head was hitting the bricks with each one of Samuli’s now disorganized hip movements, and he knew that the man was getting there.
“Take it,” came the low rumble of his bandmate’s voice made even lower by his pleasure, and Mathias braced himself.
Samuli came in his mouth in a long, rough and blatantly satisfied growl. The vocalist did everything in his power not to cough. Lips tight around Samuli’s cock as he pulled out, he obediently swallowed all he could. He had been entirely defeated. Samuli pulled him back up on his feet, by the collar of his tank top this time, and drew his hand close to his face. Mathias winced away in fear of another slap but his bandmate only wiped what remained of his cum off his lips. Mathias looked up to him: the darkness in his eyes was half gone, replaced by the glossy look that followed a good orgasm.
“Wasn’t so bad.”
Samuli quirked his lips in a small smirk as he put some order back in Mathias’ hair. He had no desire to show the rest of the world and their fans how he had roughed up his singer.
“That’s how you’ll be of use to me. As of how you'll be useful to the band, we'll see.”
This statement acted like a cold shower for Mathias. The motivation behind Samuli’s actions rushed back to him all at once, and he jerked his head away from the guitarist’s fingers.
“Fine. Fine. Do it yourself. Look presentable at least.”
Samuli stepped back from him, hands held up to mock him before he pulled his pants back on. Mathias did as told, untangling his hair with shaky hands. Be of use to the band… Surely Henri and the others couldn’t know of Samuli’s methods, right?
“I’ll tell them…” he whispered, using this threat as his last defense.
For a second, Samuli froze, belt in hand. Then burst out laughing loudly and buckled his belt as if the vocalist’s words were nothing.
“You do that. Go tell them and see what happens.”
He chuckled, unconcerned. That’s when Mathias knew. The truth stung him, full force: this was usual Samuli behavior, or at least behavior that didn’t surprise the members of Finntroll anymore. If the others didn’t agree with him, they at least didn’t oppose him. Which was worse, he didn’t know.
After a moment, Samuli judged they both looked as normal as could be and made his way to the main street nearby. Mathias had no choice but to fall in his steps, still shocked. No matter where he looked, he found no way out of his newfound reality. And he hated it.
@темы: Finntroll
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