The flight back to Mordhaus from Tomahawk was quiet.  Pickles stared out the window; Missy stared at him.  To say his grandmother’s funeral was eventual would be an understatement.  She’d never seen anything like it.  She wished she could’ve recorded the shrieks from his family when he and Seth knocked over the casket.  That would’ve been brutal to put on a track.

Pickles wasn’t close to the woman.  Much like the rest of his family, he hated her guts.  The only reason he showed up was because his mother guilt-tripped him into showing up for his father’s sake.  While the other members of Dethklok always loved to witness Pickles’s family dysfunctions, they all had other obligations.  Despite his protests, Missy insisted on tagging along.

She wasn’t sure if she should regret that decision or not.  They specifically made it a point to get in town just in time to make the wake, not a moment sooner.  From the moment they entered the funeral home, she felt guilty that her presence was the source of endless questioning and snide comments by his family, even as he assured her that if she wasn’t there, they’d find some other reason to badger him. 

It all culminated in an off-hand comment by his brother about her.  Seth, that money-grubbing asshole, had the nerve to joke around at Missy’s expense. 

“Hey, just wanted to say, I’m happy for you.  Really am, y’know.  Glad to see my li’l bro happy…  Just a piece of advice,” his elder brother leaned over to whisper in Pickles’s ear, perching an arm on his shoulder.  “Watch your wallet around a girl like that.  You know how women are with guys like you, heh, especially the younger ones.”

… And Pickles snapped.  He jolted up off of the pew they had been sitting on, grabbing Seth by the collar and yanking him up with him.  His fist collided with his brother’s abdomen.  When he keeled over, Pickles kneed him.  Everything after that was a blur.  One minute, Pickles had Seth’s neck in his grip, choking him.  The next, the two had collided with the casket and Pickles grabbed Missy’s hand to rush her out of the chapel… but not before she managed to scoop up one of his locs that Seth had ripped from his head.

Missy had never seen Pickles so angry, so violent.  If she was being honest, it excited her.  Seeing him stand up for himself like that was exhilarating, even if the time and place was inappropriate.  She scooched closer to him, the leather seat squeaking under her.  Resting a hand on his back, she whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “‘M fine…”

Pickles ran a hand down his face.  His eye was black; his lip was busted.  He looked like hell, but she’d caught a glimpse at Seth before leaving and knew for a fact he looked way worse.  His nose was probably broken…  And all for her honor.

Well, maybe…  Probably not all for her.  She was sure it was a culmination of things; the insulting of her character was likely the last straw Pickles needed to set him off. 

“But hey,” he continued.  “Now you see why I can’t stand my douchebag family.”

Missy let out a laugh and threw an arm over his shoulder.  “Yeah.  I trusted you before, but now have dumbass faces to go with the names.”

“He just pisses me off so damn bad!” said Pickles.  Mounting irritation was heard in his voice as it quivered.  “Ooh, every time I’m around that jackoff…  The shit he says an’ the way he says it just makes me see red!  An’ then, he said that shit about you, an’ I just couldn’t help but beat the livin’ shit outta him.”

He dropped his face to his hands with a sigh.  Missy frowned and rubbed his back.

“It’s okay.  The douchebag deserved it,” she said.  “Honestly, I’m glad you did, because I was about to.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled behind his hands.

“Yeah…”

“I believe it,” he said.

She continued rubbing his back, trying to calm him down.  His shoulders were so tense, and his jaw clenched.  Even as exciting as seeing him beat the fuck out of his brother was, she hated seeing him so miserable.  She hated knowing that so much had happen to him in the past that made things this bad for him now.  

Shaking his head, he looked up at her.

“Missy, can I be honest?” asked Pickles.

“Of course.”

“It’s still in my system,” he admitted.  “Like… The adrenaline.  The rage.  Part of me wishes we could turn this jet around just so I could finish him off.”

Missy completely understood.  She could see how his hands still trembled and he grit his teeth without even realizing it.  He needed a release, and she was willing to give it to him.

“Do you need to get your mind off him and let off some steam?” she asked.

Pickles continued staring at the ground.  He considered her words, understood the implication, and shook his head again with a long exhale.

“Missy, I… I can’t,” he mumbled. 

“Aw, c’mon…  Pretty please?”

“I’m so goddamn pissed right now, I might… y’know.  Like… actually fuckin’ hurt you.”

“Hey, I’m a big girl, alright?” she said, patting his thigh, then squeezing it.  “If it gets too rough, I’ll give it back.  Deal?”

Pickles didn’t answer, nor did he look over at her.  It didn’t seem like he was swayed, and Missy was just about to urge him again, before she felt his bony fingers reach for and tighten around her wrist.  He stood, tugging her arm to get her to her feet.  Silence frightened her when it came to Pickles, and it hit her then that he had to be even more angry that he was letting on.

He was.

He dragged her to the back of the jet, where the bathroom was, and pushed her inside before joining her and locking the world away.  Missy found herself pressed against the door, with all the air being knocked out of her lungs from the force.  She couldn’t get a word of protest out before she heard the tearing of fabric.  Her tights had been ripped at the seat.  Pickles pushed her panties to the side, and his cock was thrust up into her before she even realized it was out.  She stifled a whimper, not wanting him to think she was hurt.  It was a touch rougher than she was used to from him, but not enough that she’d want him to stop.

But that was just the first thrust.

Once his cock was in place, he grabbed a fistful of her hair with one hand and her hip with the other, holding her in place as he began drilling into her.  Each subsequent thrust was harsher and more forceful than the last.  Her knuckles were white from how hard her fists clenched.  She screwed her eyes shut, attempting to keep herself from crying out.  She was surprised when tears began to prick the corners of her eyes.  The brutal pace in which his cock slammed into her again and again leaned more on the painful side than pleasurable, and she feared that she’d bruise from his balls continually pummeling her each time his hips snapped against hers.

That bone-chilling silence from Pickles had been replaced with something equally as sinister.  Huffing and pants were punctuated with low growls.  When she felt his nose against her neck, she thought he was cooling off, only for teeth to sink into her shoulder milliseconds later.  Missy tensed and hissed in pain, finally feeling the tears that she had been holding back break free.  This sound was enough to snap Pickles out of his blind rage.

“Aw, ah fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling back and out of her.  His chest was heaving and eyes wild as he looked her over.  “Did I hurtcha?”

A breathless laugh left her.  She wiped the sweat and tears from her face with her wrist.  “A… A little, yeah,” she panted before shaking her head.  “But I didn’t say stop.”

“No, no… Nope.  No, we don’t,” Pickles said, turning her around.  “I think that’s enough of that…”  He looked back and sat down on the small toilet before pulling her onto his lap.  He took a deep breath, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes.  “‘Sides, I’m too fuckin’ outta shape to keep that up anyway.”

Missy laughed at the honesty, then leaned forward and gave him a kiss.  “Take it slow to cool off?” she asked, to which he eagerly bobbed his head.