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Fleeing your home country to avoid your prison sentence was hard, and it was even harder when the guy you’re with can’t go a day without making some kind of move on you.
Varg liked it in a way, but it was hard to explain. He didn’t really miss Marie back home, he only missed the attention. The man thrived off of being known and notable; Count Grishnackh, the Satanic Devil Worshiping Multi-Talented Black Metal Musician. Despite most of the media headlines smearing his name, he needed to have people talking about him. Any press was good press in his eyes.
Faust would always give him these looks when they were just hanging around the house. There was really nothing else to do; they were staying in Faust’s uncle's house that he uses when he’s hunting out in Sweden. There wasn’t another house for fifty miles at the least. They had stocked up on food in fear that their faces would be seen while they’re getting groceries in town, and hopefully they would have enough to suffice.
Sometimes when they would watch TV, Faust would just look at Varg. He could feel him staring a hole through his head and even sometimes his crotch, and whenever Varg would look back and catch him, his face would turn toward the television again.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“What? You’re telling me I can’t use my eyes?”
That’s where it started, but it only got worse as the night went on. They both slept in a full size bed since it was only really for Faust’s uncle. Varg initially wanted to take the couch, but after a few nights of sleeping there, he quickly noticed that it was far too uncomfortable for him to be able to get a good night's sleep.
They would just lie there and fall asleep, never said goodnight to each other. Faust was such a big man that Varg was able to feel how hot he would get when he was sleeping, probably just night sweats from how stressed out they were from the possibility of being caught.
But one night, Varg was half asleep, he felt himself brush up against Faust and he could feel how hard he was. Faust, completely unconscious, moved his arm around Varg’s waist and pulled him into him even more.
He mumbled something, but he couldn’t decipher what it was. He was probably just having a wet dream about his girlfriend. Varg felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t resist him. The grip he had on his body was far too strong even if he decided to. So he just lied there and tried to go to sleep.
But he couldn’t. He could feel him twitching as Varg tried to settle into bed and try to make himself comfortable.
He had this lingering feeling that Faust wasn’t really asleep though, and he was doing this just because he wanted Varg. Varg had no interest in men, he only really wanted the attention and he would do just about anything for that.
“It’s okay…you’re a good boy…” Varg’s stomach dropped. He clearly wasn’t having a dream about his girl friend, so it had to have been Varg, right? He mumbled out some other words but Varg still wasn’t able to make them out. Faust was getting harder and started rubbing against Varg a little bit. The hand that was once wrapped around his body was then used to trail up his stomach and chest, resting there for a while. Varg couldn’t believe that another man was reaching under his shirt, but he fucking was. Marie didn’t even do that. Varg noticed how hard he was truly getting when reality set in. He was throbbing, he could just touch his dick and he was sure that he was about to explode. The grip on him was a lot lighter now, so he turned around to face Faust.
That’s all it took to wake him up. He thought that Faust would snap and get all defensive about feeling him up, but he just looked at him tiredly.
“You called me a good boy…” Varg said quietly.
“I did?”
“Yeah. You can’t say shit like that. I’m not a fag.”
“I never said that,” Faust said as he slowly reached down to grab at Varg’s crotch. “I said that you’re a good boy.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” he whines as he starts bucking his hips into his hand. It was clear what he wanted, it was clear what both of them wanted. Varg needed to get off and Faust just needed somebody to take care of.
“Oh don’t give me that shit. I see the way that you look at me. I see how you always push your body up against me when you’re trying to sleep.” Varg kept grinding into his touch and letting out little whimpers while he did.
“Just relax. You’re being so good for me Varg. You’re my good boy aren’t you?”
“I’m your good boy,” he whined again. He felt Faust’s other hand creep up his chest again, this time wrapping it around his neck.
“Who's a good boy?”
“Daddy’s good boy.”
God was he fucking pathetic. Faust knew about his relationship with his dad, or lack thereof, and he knew that he wanted to use it to his advantage. But he really didn’t have to do that much work to get it out of him.
As a reward, he put two of his fingers in his mouth. Varg didn’t even have to think twice before taking them into his mouth completely.
“Ohhh, that’s right. You’re daddy’s good boy. You belong to me now. Nobody else is around to take you away from me now.”
The possessiveness in Faust's voice destroyed Varg, turning him into a whimpering, sensitive, cumming mess. Faust could feel it getting onto his hands, and the muffled moans coming out of Varg who was still thrashing around like a little bitch underneath him was enough to make him cum too.
He pulled his hand away from his crotch and wiped the other one on Varg’s shirt to get his spit off of it.
He held Varg close once again, Varg now facing him and burying his head into his chest like he always wanted to. He could just hear the exhaustion in the other man's breathing as he snuggled up to him.
“Shh…it’s okay baby. You were such a good boy.”