#implied ambergail

[sourbat]

Magseth 35 or 48

shackles��

warning: language; implied sexual content 

“Just you wait and see, Seth,” Magnus chimes with a low hum. He flops onto the cheap hotel bed, folds his long arms behind his head and utters another hectic cackle.

Seth merely glances at the reflection and can tell there’s no point in trying to butt-in once Magnus gets started. He waits for the opportune moment, when Magnus is done devising his fantastical conspiracies, then meets his stare in the mirror and says, “Right, Mags.”

“We’re so close.” Magnus kicks off a boot. “I’ve made the calls. Spoken with the man.”

“Uh-huh.”

Another boot flies into the air. In the reflection, Seth watches as Magnus jerks about, trying and failing to relax. It’s always a sight to behold. Seth’s seen some passionate men, but Magnus puts it to a whole other level. His wild hair drapes over each sharp, frantic movement, and once he catches Seth’s curious stare, misinterprets it as similar, unhinged interest. “He’s going to meet with us real soon.”

Seth nods at the reflection. “Sure ‘ting, Mags.”

“We’ll have Dethklok where we want them!” Magnus declares with a near crazed yell. He curls himself back up, sitting upright and following Seth’s movement as he breaks from the mirror. “I’ll finally…we’ll–”

Seth circles around the bed, not minding the groans of old springs that he’s since grown accustomed to. No hotel bed can compare to the plush mattresses of his glory days, but Seth finds comfort in knowing he’s sharing his bed with better company.

“We’ll get our revenge, yeah?” Seth finishes, plastering a cocky grin that riles up the taller of two, gets Magnus crawling to the edge of the bed, slipping away and reappearing behind Seth the moment he slides the closet shut.

Long fingers curl and dig into Seth’s shoulder. “I’ll make your brother pay.”

Seth feels the longing under the pressure, though he can’t say whether it’s for him, or for revenge.

It’s admittedly getting harder to tell with Magnus.

Seth glances down at the remains of the cheap suits he’s wearing, thinks of a time where he’d have maids throw Versace tops that had stains on them from a life of overabundance, and when it flashes to now, to Magnus breathing up his neck and telling him he’ll make him feel like a man again, Seth admits to himself that it’s getting harder for him to tell what he wants more.  

There was a time where he’d obsessed over the prospects of getting his revenge on the band; more specifically, the woman Pickles hired to accost and tempt his now ex-wife. A nasty divorce and powerful lawyers left Seth with hardly anything, A few days later, he received a call from Mordhaus letting him know Amber and her lesbo-girlfriend were going to be handling Australia from here on end.

Revenge consumed his mind back then. Other thoughts, too. It was right about when Seth received his farewell basket from Dethklok, and those darker thoughts began to seep out the cracks of his broken mind, did Magnus appear before him. Right out of the shadows, and donning a handsome grin that reminded Seth of the bible. Something about the devil being handsome. Couldn’t remember the whole saying, but Seth could tell just by looking at him he was nothing but trouble, and considering Dethklok’s gift basket came with a loaded gun, was thankful Magnus had arrived just in the nick of time.

For a while, their obsession for revenge kept them together. They’d bitch and gripe about how Dethklok always had it easy, how much harder they had to work just to get some meager scraps of validation, only to have the band proceed to fuck the while they were down. Seth laughed when Magnus told him about the knife, and Magnus laughed at recited childhood memories starring a smaller, weaker Pickles. Seth told Magnus of his dream to win Amber back, to get back at that bitch Abigail. Seth told Magnus he didn’t even need Amber, because all women were disloyal anyways, so what was the point. Seth told Magnus not to worry about the gray, because it made him look cool. The eye made him look intimidatin’. No shirt? No problem. 

Then something happens. Nine months pass, and neither of them are any closer than when they started. Sure, Mags gets a call from some unknown number, and if Seth is lucky, he catches a few words of the harsh graveled voice on the other line while Magnus takes notes and directions. They drive around to various states, pick up some folks so shady Seth spends the remainder of the drive eyeing the glove compartment with the hunting knife in it, preparing for the worst. They drop off the spooks in some undisclosed location, meet with even spookier names and faces that Seth can’t believe are real, and then they start all over. 

“What’s wrong?” Magnus breathes the words into Seth’s neck. Hands slide under the bottom of his faded shirt, and the same probing fingers from before consume Seth’s senses. Magnus purrs a loving noise into his ear. “Come on,” he says, “tell me what you plan on doing with those women…”

He hasn’t thought about Amber for days. Hard to think about some useless woman when he’s got the dictionary definition of “tall, dark and handsome” tasting every inch of him whenever he has the chance. Weirdly enough, it's the same handsome fellow that’s making him think of her in the first place. 

But that’s the problem, now. It’s almost been a year, and now Seth is over the divorce. He’s done thinking about whatever the hell Amber and that girlfriend of her’s are up to, and he’s sure as shit doesn’t want to think about them running Dethklok Australia. He doesn’t want to think about anything related to Dethklok. He’s sick of Dethklok, and if it weren’t for Magnus’ unyielding obsession, would have told the guy to ��give it up,” and with the rest of their money, drive their asses Vegas. He wants to take Magnus to see his favorite burlesque show, use the rest of his money on a nice dinner, and maybe have a nasty threesome.

He doesn’t want to spend the last of his draining account recruiting stooges. He doesn’t want to spend another dime on Dethklok.

Hands wrap around Seth’s lanky waist. “Seth.”

Another blink, and Seth feels the weight of the band pressing against his back, but when he blinks a second time, realizes it’s only Magnus holding on to him.  Slightly shaken, Seth shudders. “Take the lead, Mags,” he says through closing eyes. “Yer, uhh, really getting’ me rollin’. Keep talkin’ about what yer going to do with that Euro-dood.”

Magnus won't. Won't, or maybe can’t, but whatever the case, the guy’s obsessed with Dethklok to the extreme. Magnus talks about their rabid fans, but doesn’t see the irony when he spends late nights ranting about how he was wronged, how shitty each member is, how he’s got to get his revenge on them, gotta finalize his plans. He doesn’t seem to mind spending what little he has all in the name of revenge. Revenge for Dethklok. Seth’s asked a few times what those plans were, but never got a straight answer from Mags. It was then he knew he couldn’t say anything at all, because Magnus didn’t have a plan, and the second Seth dared to bring it up, risked losing the only thing that was currently keeping them together.

Not revenge… 

“Soon, Seth,” Magnus sighs lovingly into Seth’s ear. His arms return around Seth’s waist, wrapping him into a gentle embrace. “Everything you wanted will come to fruition soon. I’ll make it happen.”

Seth says nothing, but gives a sound that Magnus takes for a sigh. He draws closer, taking blankets and sheets with him. Magnus gives Seth an affectionate squeeze, one that makes him want nothing more than to see Magnus happy, but also sends another dreaded shudder at the press of his hands, and is reminded of the shackles that keep Magnus locked in place.

The very thing he wants nothing to do with.

The only thing holding them together.

Dethklok.