Yay S&M!

Rating: R
Category: PG
Pairing(s): Toki/Skwisgaar, Charles/Nathan.
Warnings: Oh lordie, where to start?
Summary: Dethklok attend a party.
Notes: Belated birthday fic for [info]hallo_katzchen, who once said she liked her Skwisgaar well-hung and crazy. Muahahahahaha….

Bonus points if you are actually enough of a RHPS geek that you get the title. The Deth-Sluts make their first appearance in ‘Art of Vengeance’

Pointy's notes - if anyone's been hiding under a rock their entire life and has no idea what's going one... here's the song as performed in the film by Tim Curry

“Hi Charles!”

“Rachel! What a lovely surprise, what brings you…?” Then the smile fell off Charles’ face. “They found me, didn’t they?”

Rachel giggled. “Yes, they did.”

Charles sighed heavily. “Where are they?”

“Front row center.”

“It figures.”

“I swear that I did not tell them.”

“No I didn’t think you would.” Charles sighed again. “It never fails to astound me that they can’t find their own backsides with both hands, an anatomy textbook and a sherpa, but they can formulate plans to make my life hell by telepathy in under a minute.”

“They adore you, Charles.”

“You’re a very naïve young woman.”

“Oh they do. They just want to show their support!”

“I can just imagine.”

A stagehand walked up to Charles. “Two minutes.”

Charles nodded, then looked at Rachel. “Are you staying for the show?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!”

Charles walked to his place on the stage, seating himself behind the large desk with the illuminated globe and waited for the curtains to be drawn aside. And there they were, all five of them, armed to the teeth with toast, super-soakers, rice, umbrellas, lighters, and the biggest, most evil grins Charles had ever seen. Suddenly Charles was very grateful he had been given the role of the narrator instead of Brad Majors. Charles stared at Dethklok. Dethklok stared at Charles. Charles shifted his gaze back to the audience and slipped into his role.

“I would like, if I may, to take you… on a strange journey.”

The audience was in prime form. “How strange was it?” came from the left.

“It was so strange they made a play about it!” came from the right.

Oh Lord, what in hell possessed him to try out for a part in The Rocky Horror Show?

***---***

It wasn’t as bad as Charles antici….pated.

For one thing, Toki, Skwisgaar, Nathan and Murderface had apparently never seen Rocky Horror, and spent much of the play staring in something akin to amusement and shock. Pickles however had not only seen it, he had played Riff Raff at the community center in his home town. At one point he was chasing an audience member dressed as Rocky around the auditorium with a whip, and Charles broke character for a moment.

“Pickles, leave the newly-animated sex toy alone, he has enough troubles.”

Apart from Pickles, the show went off without a hitch, and Charles was spared the indignity to which most of the other actors were subjected. Once the show was over and he was back stage, Nathan was there to greet him, picking him and hugging him until his lungs screamed for air.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were in a play?” asked Nathan.

“Well I’m… just the narrator. How did you find me?”

“Was on Dethklok Minute!” said Toki.

“And how did they find out?” asked Charles. He pondered for a while, then shifted his gaze to the man playing Dr. Frank N. Furter. Frankie shrieked and fled. Charles sighed.

“Another mystery solved. Come on, let’s go home.”

***---***

It was the event Dethklok waited for all year – the charity ball to raise funds for spinal cord research. The reason they looked forward to it was because it was hosted by a former death metal rocker named Keith Face-eater. Keith had broken his back in a motorcycle accident, which was why this cause interested him, and the parties always featured music by the best up and coming new bands, plenty of drink, women of dubious professional callings, and somebody always ended up driving their car into the pool. Good times were had by all.

And then there was this year.

Roadie 1013 didn’t hand Dethklok their invitations; he tossed them and ran. The brightly-coloured squares of paper were pounced on like meat by ravening dogs, ripped open, and read. There was a long silence, then five discordant howls of anguish. Moments later Charles walked into the room.

“Is there a problem?” he inquired.

“How could she do thish to ush?!” yowled Murderface. “After all we did for her!”

“Who?” asked Charles.

“Keith’s daughter!” said Pickles. “Chrissy took over the party this year!”

“And that’s bad?” inquired Charles.

Toki scurried off, returning moments later with a photo of Keith and his only child. Keith looked like the offspring of a troll and a harpy, wrapped in leather, eyes sunken and dark-ringed from years of substance abuse and way too much fun. Chrissy on the other hand was a perfect little perky-breasted princess with ribbons in her hair, tiny bows on her little shoes, an enormous pile of curly wavy bleached blonde hair on her head, and enough pink and sparkles to blind the dead.

“I’m sensing a certain amount of rebellion against her father’s death-metal lifestyle,” said Charles.

“She is makings it theme party!” said Toki.

“Well… theme parties can be fun,” said Charles. “What’s the theme?”

“Musicals,” came the response in five-part monotone.

Well that should cut down on the amount of party-goers.

“And that’s not the worst part!” said Nathan. “It says if you’re a singer by profession then you have to perform at least one song as your character!”

That would definitely cut down on the number of party-goers. Charles could just imagine George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher busting out with ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?’ while dressed as a nun.

“Well it doesn’t say what kind of musical, does it?” said Charles.

“What’s its matter?” said Toki morosely. “All musicals is sucks! Dey nots metal! Only fun musicals I evers see was…”

Charles heard the click of five single-watt bulbs turning on.

“Buts we needs girls,” said Skwisgaar. “Three girls.”

“Well what about the Deth-Sluts?” asked Nathan.

“Dood there’s only two of them now,” said Pickles. “Courtney married her lawyer and is gonna have a baby.”

“Well we still have Tanya and Vickie,” said Nathan. “We can find a third girl.”

“I finds one,” said Skwisgaar.

***---***

“Miss Taylor!”

Rachel was on her knees in the toy closet trying to coax the classroom hamster out of a corner when she heard Jollie Harkness’ five-year-old voice.

“What is it, Jollie?” she asked, reaching for the tiny bundle of caramel-coloured puff.

“There’s a really really really tall man out here who talks funny.”

“Jollie just say there is a man here to see me. It’s not nice to say someone talks funny.”

“But he does!”

Rachel caught the hamster, drawing it out from under the shelf and rising to her feet to examine it. Cadillac was dusty but unharmed after his adventure. She stepped out of the closet with the hamster, and stopped in her tracks at the sight of an incredibly tall Swedish guitar player surrounded by curious pre-schoolers. Skwisgaar was clearly worried about taking a step and crushing something… or somebody. Rachel smiled.

“Skwisgaar! What brings you here?”

“Cames to ask smalls favour.” He looked nervously down at the crowd of curious children. Rachel walked over to him and took his hand, smiling.

“They’re just children, they don’t bite,” said Rachel.

“Buddy Parker does!” said Jollie.

“You’re a farty-pants!” said Buddy hotly.

“You’re a diaper-pants!” said Jollie.

“Poo-head!”

Rachel shooed the children in opposite directions, passing Cadillac to Buddy to be put back in the cage.

“So what is it?” she asked Skwisgaar.

“Cames to asks you if you is wantings to comes to party wit’ us in two weeks. Is bigs fancy funds-raising t’ing.”

Rachel’s eyes became huge. “Oh Skwisgaar I don’t know, I’m just a teacher, I can’t afford a fancy gown for a party like that!”

“Is nots problem. Is theme party. We all supposed to comes dressed likes someone from dildos musical.”

“What’s dildos mean?” asked a tiny girl.

“It’s a naughty word,” said Rachel to the child. “And Skwisgaar is not supposed to use it in the classroom.”

“Sorry,” said Skwisgaar.

“But what is it?” asked the child.

“Is a dumb persons,” said Skwisgaar.

“Oh!” The child looked at Buddy. “BUDDY DON’T GIVE CADILLAC THE BIRD FOOD YOU DILDO!”

Rachel sighed. “Thank you, Skwisgaar, for sharing that fabulous new word with my students.”

“You welcomes,” he said happily. “So you wants to comes, hmmm?”

He nuzzled up to her sweetly, much to the utter disgust of her students. Rachel gently tried to push him back, but he was still nuzzling. There had been times when Skwisgaar had deeply intimidated her, his mere size enough to make her worry about how much of a chance she would have against him if he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Fortunately Skwisgaar had no difficulty with being told to back off, and he was hopelessly devoted to Toki anyway. Flirting seemed to be an uncontrolled reflex with him, like breathing. He just did it. Besides, Rachel would forever cherish the looks she was currently getting from that bitch of a fifth grade teacher, Andrea Hopkins, who was currently peering into her classroom. Smiling, Rachel gave Skwisgaar one last push and he backed up.

“Fine,” she said, “I’ll come. What’s the musical?”

He told her. Rachel stared at him sourly.

“All right, but I’m Janet. Who are you going to be?”

He grinned at her. In the background Andrea had jealous fits.

“Is surprise,” said Skwisgaar.

“I can hardly wait. So are you going to stay and help us make paper maché animals?”

“Sure why nots. Just don’ts be askings me to teaches dem to spell.”

“Or speak English.”

“What ams beings wrongs wit’ my English?”

Oh Lordie, where to start?

***---***

It was the night of the party, and the guests that were arriving at Keith’s mansion were considerably different from the usual crowd. Instead of metal heads, rockers, and music-industry workers, there were scrawny vacuous models and starlets, over-compensating vacuous male models and actors, and a cloud of desperate pretenders trying very hard to behave as if they were famous, or at least interesting. Most of the costumes were based on characters in The Sound of Music, Phantom of the Opera, Cats, and Les Miserables.

“Dat’s brutal,” said Toki morosely, peering at the crowd from within the safety of the limo.

“I’ve seen more metal at a pansy festival,” said Pickles. “Come ahn! There’s naht one person here dressed like Cousin Kevin or Uncle Ernie. Naht even a Pinball Wizard.”

“Where would they find the shoes?” said Charles, picking at his costume, very glad he had stayed with the character of The Narrator.

“Thish ish sho gay,” grumbled Murderface, who had opted to play Brad. Of course no one had told him he would be running around wearing glasses and a lab coat, and he had greeted his costume with utter disdain, refusing to wear it until he found out that Rachel’s wasn’t any better. Rachel adjusted her own outfit.

“Well I’ve worn worse in public. Not much worse, but… yeah.” She looked at Skwisgaar. “You okay big guy?”

“Oh don’ts worries abouts him,” said Toki. “He fines. Buts why is I havings to be Rocky?”

“Because no one should have to see Murderface running around in gold lamé underwear,” said Pickles.

“Yeah well they only picked you ash Riff Raff because your hair’sh falling out,” said Murderface. “Where’sh Vickie?”

“With Nathan,” said Tanya. “She’s playing Columbia. Oh there’s Nathan now! Oh look at Vickie! EE! She’s looks just like Columbia, right down to the hair! Too bad she can’t tap dance.”

“If I recall correctly, neither can Columbia,” said Charles. He permitted himself a wicked grin at the sight of Nathan in worn dirty jeans and old leathers. Oh yeah, Nathan was perfect to play the part of Eddie.

Nathan drove the gigantic black motorcycle onto the stone walkway, people scattering out of his way. Vickie was perched precariously on the back of the bike and holding onto Nathan’s huge frame as he parked the bike near the red carpet. Chrissy had spared nothing in making her party look just like some Hollywood fundraiser, and she was clearly not pleased in the least to have Nathan Explosion and some no-name groupie show up dressed like characters from a b-grade sci-fi musical. Keith however was clearly delighted, throwing up the horns in approval. Charles couldn’t help but wonder if he would be as pleased to see the rest of the group. Murderface looked to Rachel.

“Coming, Janet?”

“I would like to state for the record that I never did these things until I met you people.”

“You mean showing up at partiesh in a lab coat?”

“Yes and having to explain to angry parents how their preschooler learned the word ‘dildo’ in my classroom.”

“Tell them it’s a town in Newfoundland,” said Charles.

Rachel blinked at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“I am not. I actually attended the Dildo Days Festival there a few years back.”

“Dood,” said Pickles, “We totally gotta hit that one year.”

Rachel smiled and took Murderface’s hand, and together they stepped out of the limo. The moment Chrissy saw them she slapped her hand over her face. Keith was laughing fit to fall out of his chair. He only laughed harder when Pickles and Tanya stepped out as Riff Raff and Magenta, followed by Charles as the Narrator. Then Toki stepped out as Rocky Horror, wearing only gold shorts and boxer’s boots. Then the crowd seemed to hold its breath, staring at the limo, knowing the best, or worst, depending on one’s point of view, was about to come. Chrissy was hiding behind her hand as the music started, and out stepped a figure, a full seven foot one in his five inch heels, draped in a black and silver cape that went down to the ground, face heavily made up, blonde hair hanging long and wild. Skwisgaar stared down his nose at the lesser beings surrounding him, then began striding down the red carpet, his entire body in motion.

"How d'you do, I see you've met my faithful handyman.
He's just a little brought down because when you knocked
He thought you were the candyman.
Don't get strung out by the way that I look,
Don't judge a book by its cover.
I'm not much of a man by the light of day,
But by night I'm one hell of a lover…"

He flung the cape off, turning on his heel, Dr. Frank N. Furter back from the dead and burning with sin, sexuality and superiority, clad in stockings, panties and corset, the female clothing somehow accentuating how very male he was. Skwisgaar had been born to play this part, and the press could not get enough of him, following his every movement with their cameras as his presence overshadowed every other person there.

"I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania."

He strode over to Keith in his wheel chair, drawing up one long leg to rest it on the seat between Keith’s legs, gazing down at him.

"So let me show you around, maybe play you a sound.
You look like you're both pretty groovy.
Or if you want something visual that's not too abysmal,
We could take in an old Steve Reeves movie."

Right on cue, Murderface and Rachel dared approach the sultry god.

"I'm glad we caught you at home, could we use your phone?
We're both in a bit of a hurry.
We'll just say where we are, then go back to the car,
We don't want to be any worry."

Skwisgaar snatched a drink from a server’s tray and downed part of it, surveying the pair from his superior height.

"So you got caught with a flat, well, how ‘bout that?
Well babies, don't you panic.
By the light of the night when it all seems alright
I'll get you a satanic mechanic…"

He flung the half-filled glass to Pickles, who caught it. Walking in a cloud of raw sexuality, Skwisgaar turned and began striding back down the carpet, moving with a sort of effortless dancing grace few could manage in heels.

"I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania."

He reached Toki, draping his arms around his neck, Magenta, Columbia and Riff Raff flanking the pair as Skwisgaar looked back at Brad and Janet.

"So why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite?
I could show you my favourite obsession.
I've been making a man with blond hair and a tan
And he's good for relieving my… tension.

I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania."

He was in motion again, blowing passed the stunned onlookers, long body swaying as he more or less skipped down the carpet towards the entryway of the huge house, reaching the top of the stairs and turning, hands on his hips, to face those gathered below.

"So come up to the lab. And see what's on the slab.
I see you shiver with antici... pation.
But maybe the rain isn't really to blame
So I'll remove the cause… but NOT the SYMPTOM!"

He flung his hair back, then whirled and disappeared into the house while those he had left behind either cheered wildly or stared in utter shock. Toki chased after Skwisgaar, finding him in the foyer checking his makeup.

“Skwisgaar you was fantas-sticks!”

He huffed disdainfully. “Of course.”

He smiled as Toki wrapped his arms around him, looking over his shoulder at the blue eyes peeking at him.

“So you t’inks Chrissy evers speakings to me again?” asked Skwisgaar.

“Nopes,” said Toki. “Nevers. She havings crying tantrums.”

“Whats about Keith?”

“I t’inks he havings a naturals disaster in his pants.”

“Good,” said Skwisgaar. “So longs as Keith happy.” He turned to face Toki, draping his arms around his neck, wrapping one long leg around him. “So you… wantings to finds a room and maybes fill in dat missings scene between where Frank an’ Rocky goes behinds da curtain an’ when Rocky gets waked up wit’ da candle?”

“Okies. Buts can we leaves out da parts where we is bot’ dying horribles?”

“Ja. We leaves dat part out.”

“Good,” said Toki softly. “Woulds make me sad if anyt’ing happen to you.”

They kissed, Skwisgaar sliding his hands down Toki’s back. Then they turned and walked into the house, heading up the stairs hand in hand to where Keith’s guest rooms were.

“Skwisgaar?”

“Ja Toki?”

“We really shoulds haves chains to do dis rights.”

Skwisgaar smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t worry little Toki, I already phones ahead for whips an’ chains.”

“Boy you t’inks of everyt’ing!”

“Ja everyt’ing excepts how much dese damn shoes hurtings my feets.”