Article 3

 He didn’t make it to meet him the next day, nor for the next few weeks. A flood of paperwork hit Charles’ desk as Berlin's Museum Island was demolished in a Dethklok fan-attack. William’s off-handed comments about old artists and where they could stick it had beem taken to heart by his more insane fans and it was only hours before the place burned to the ground.

When Charles finally made his way through his list of people to apologize to and had paid off all the right police forces, he took a look at his personal projects and found a timelog of an English teacher. It took him a few moments to remember what they were for, but when he saw that they had been doing strangely long hours he remembered 3665 and had his assistant set up a meeting. 

It was only a few minutes later that a knock came to the door. 

Charles had just started in on an email looked up from his e-mail (apparently, the Museum Island had, among others, an Old and a New Gallery, and contrary to what he had believed, both of them were heavily damaged) and bayed the visitor in. As he did so, he closed the page down in the hopes of having the information disappear if he didn’t look at it.

 If I cant see you you cant see me….

He expected one of  the usual ADD-riddled stories from a Dethklok member bursting in. ‘Toki burned my Civil War shoesh.’ ‘Pickle stoles my wines from Mrs. Wiesniewskis.’ ‘Buy us Disneyland.’

Luckily for what remained of his sanity, it was a familiar hooded figure that stepped in, large body swaying slightly awith his confident warrior’s swagger.

"Ah, 3665. You were faster than I expected." He said with a tight smile. “Did you run into my assistant?”

“Ja, hello Off--Of… Hello.” He said, having forgotten over the course of time what the man’s name actually was.  “I was in area. Come to again ask if you want meeting, think you mayy be forget, you know? Hahaha….. I tooook lessons, on Englesh. Gud, ja?”

"No, of course I didn’t forget." This was true, at least technically. Charles had forced his brain to work much like a computer by this point, and he could keep lots of files 'opened' at the same time. However, project 3665 had been pushed into the very back of his multitasking mind. Security was important, and 3665 himself was interesting, but there were too many things going on at once. "Yes, I can understand you. That's definite progress."

“I try. De teacher say I learn pretty gud. Fast.” 

"Good, that's, ah, good. Because I wanted to start training you this evening, for Dethklok's next public appearance. You will stay, ah, close to me at all times so you see how we handle security back stage." As far as he knew, he had only kept 3665 in front of the stage during performances, at least the file was clear on that one. 

“Oh. Uhh….. Ja. Oh-kayy. I does gud at dat!” He nodded his head eagerly. 

"Have a seat. There are some anomalies in your file we need to discuss."

3665 blue eyes crinkled with what was likely a smile as he sat in the chair. He set his elbows on his knees, eyeing the computer on Charles’ desk as though to be certain it wouldn’t explode suddenly. “Anom… Animals? On my file? Ahhh.. Ja. I gud wits de yard woofs.”

"No, I mean some things are wrong with your file. It says here you are, ah, French." The timeline didn't really match up, and the accent wasn’t even close. "It also has you at 5'7'' and skinny. Can you explain that?"

“I … ament… French. Dey don’t unders-stand what I says dere. And uhhhhh…… dey asks dat before? Long time ago. Old file, maybe.”

"Yes, I figured that." Charles shook his head. "Well, tell me something about your life, then. Your file seems to be corrupted. The, ah, the system always crashes when we try to access it, too." Possibly, two files had merged into one, or the information had just been garbled into word salad, though the computer division could find no reason that the file always turned off or froze all computers connected to the database. 

“Oh-kayy…. “ he leaned back in his chair as well, going briefly silent as he put together  short mental biography. “Im Pjur?” It was said like ‘pure’ . “Pjur is… cold… I am de…almoss leader… My wife am Defuk? Him is.. He wears glass. Byoo-ta-full. And our son! Him name ams Jake…. I come to Dethklok……. I draw…. Ja. What yoo wants know else?”

Well, that was a very curt description, but one couldn't say he was guilty of not getting to the point. "But your, ah, husband - if it's a man, it's a husband - is deceased, yes? So you are a widower." He didn't even attempt to add it to the file on the computer, touching that just always led to catastrophes, instead jotted it down on the printed copy. "And your son is dead, too, yes? I am still, ah, sorry for your loss." The manager watched him attentively. "Do you like your work? Any complaints? You are, ah, now in a position were you are allowed to offer me suggestions."

“I likes it here. I come to it when dey die, so ahh… ja. Is gud. Haff nutting to does anyway? I come to kill yoo, acshkully, for dat.” He laughed quietly and good naturedly, and highly inappropriate in the current context. “But uhhh…. I sees Lord Ekspojon and I know dat… I know I should be here.” He tilted his head slightly in thought. 

"Uh... alright." Charles gave him a long look at that. He wasn't sure what to think of this brutal honesty. Then again, when a metal band killed your family with a giant box full of coffee beans, it would make a lot of sense to want to kill them. It wasn't unknown that the band would converted dangerous enemies within a matter of seconds, though. Knubbler used to be a spy for much more than Crystal records, and ten seconds of Murmaider had turned him into an ally that even Charles came to trust almost completely. 

He rose from his chair and gestured towards him to follow him to the door. "Are you alright working close with me? If you have, ah, personal problems with me, better tell me now. I don't need that kind of trouble."

The gear stood up to follow his smaller companion. He stepped just behind him, and to the side, a position he was quickly growing used to. “Ja, I likes be close with you. You ams uhhh… gud. Talking to. My teacher … only lessons, no talking. I like… with you. Only problem? Uhhh… yoo look like my wife… I guess.”

Charles looked over his shoulder. It was a strange thought to have a security person close by at all times, for him, as he was not among the people that needed this. Charles could take care of himself, and even himself suggesting otherwise was a bit of an insult. But 3665 was for Dethklok, he calmed his ego, and together they'd be maximizing security. "Right. Talking is, ah, good, it practices vocabularies very effectively." He paused. What a... strange thing to think about. "Sorry. If it's painful and distracts you from your job, it might be better to transfer you to the regular special unit?"

“Yoo amen’t hurt me? Is… gud….. I think? Nice. I can remember… and makes me happy. More gudder to protect yoo too, ja?” It was a joke, badly executed, but he laughed at himself regardless. 

"Oh, alright... I suppose." It might be bellow some managers to use a subordinate's affections to a deceased lover whose death they were partly responsible for to bind them to the company, but Charles wouldn't be Charles if he was one of those men, and he wouldn't be half as good. 

“Is my job. Is gud job, why I am alive so long. I want to alive, yoo know dis? If die, yoo not try hard to live. Is for Off-senshoon too, ja? Yoo been for My Beloved Dethklok longer. I am longest I know, not for you.” 

Charles nodded his head as they walked through the long, empty hallways toward the hangar. "You have been with us for quite some time, it's impressive. And me... well, I need to stay alive to, ah, make sure Dethklok doesn't get into trouble. I guess that means I want it a lot, too."

“I guess den we both two stay alive together, Lord Of-De-Sun, to serve Dem. Yoo head and me body, ja?” He chuckled a bit, though he was serious this time. 

Charles opened another door, leading them outside. The wind was sharp and cold up here on the runway for the Hatredkopters. Finally tired of his name being trampled and jumped on in a hundred different ways and waiting for the Gear to remember, Charles turned to him, the wind running through his hair like an invisible hand and pulling at 3665's hood, as well. "That is a very, ah, cool name you have chosen there, but sadly, it's not mine. It's Ofdenson, not Of The Sun. I'm.. I'm not from the sun. 

“Off… de... Sun…” He repeated, painfully slow as he tried to memorize the weird word. “It… ament make so much sense as Of-de-sun, but I guess if de sun turns off it ams night? So… yoo am de Dethklok’s night.” He nodded his head, apparently unaware of the word ‘knight’ and so not noticing the compliment, simply assuming Ofdenson’s name meant ‘nighttime’. “Dat ams gud name, I guess, work better to Dethklok.” 

Charles opened his mouth to correct him, but actually... Dethklok's knight who turned the sun off, it wasn't too bad, was it? And it was close enough to his actual name, certainly as close as he would get this man anywhere in the near future. “Fine.“ He turned away again, heading towards the Kopters again. “I will show you the blueprint of the building that Dethklok is doing a charity event in tomorrow, so you, ah, have an overview. We will fly overnight, so there is, ah, time to prepare." 

“Blues paw print, ja, okay. De buildings map. I can does dat, I reads map pretty gud, amen’t ever lost heres at de haus.” 

"That's an accomplishment in an of itself." 

3665 smiled and nodded, holding his hood still as he looked up at the giant structure. He had ridden the Hatredkopter before, it had a more sturdy feel to it than most of the other vehicles, and was safe enough to have never burned while he was nearby. He couldn’t help but mentally refer to it as a dragon, and always felt uncomfortable stepping inside the beast, it looked exactly the same on the inside as the castle did, so it didn’t make a large difference. He winced as his hair whipped out of the hood, blonde strands smacking him gracelessly in the eye, but once they headed up the tarmac and into the metal beast it finally stilled. 

Charles took a long look at 3665 and then pulled out his Dethphone while they boarded the Hatredkopter. "Right, follow me... this is were I spend most of my trips." Charles had a miniature replica of his office in the Hatredkopter, complete with a bed in the corner. "Just so you know where to find me. Now, ah, excuse me for a moment."

 He chose his boyfriends number and let the phone ring four times, before Timothy picked up. It was highly embarrassing to feel so... horny, and he wanted to book a date in advance so he could get rid of the feeling. "Hello Tim, it's Charles. How are you?"

“Charles!” Timothy answered, seeming a bit surprised but no less happy to hear from his incredibly low-maintenance boyfriend. “I was just thinking about you. I haven’t heard from you in a couple weeks. Have your, ah, boys been keeping you busy?”

Charles expected 3665 to leave and turned his back to him, didn't realize he was still in the room. Gears was frighteningly easy to ignore. "Nice of you." Timothy was the kind that always had a cute dozen of stock phrases ready at hand. If he were to be believed he was thinking about Charles more or less constantly. He was grateful for Timothy though, as he didn't bother him too often, and while boring he was always ready  for sex... it was an adequate thing they had going. "Yes, they have. I will be busy for two more days, I'm afraid. I, ah, I wanted to ask if you had time to go out?”

3665, who had been silently attempting to read the word ‘IKEA’ across the side of a boring white lamp, glanced over at Charles. Several of the words didn’t really fit but he grinned a bit as he realized what he was listening to. A meeting with his wife. 

“Anything for you of course, Charles.” Another man would have  purred the words, but as it was Timothy simply oozed sexual implications through the phone lines. “I’ve missed you quite a bit lately, actually, you know I get lonely without your company. We could go out for a nice dinner, maybe, I believe our anniversary is coming up? We could celebrate.. Ahaha, at your ‘haus’ maybe, this time?” 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be neglectful." As if Timothy cared. Charles liked it that he didn't.  "Ah, sure, that will work, I will ask the Gears not to bother me for that. We can stay the whole night without, ah, anyone disturbing us." 

Translation: I really need it bad. 

“Always so shy, Charles. Alright then, it’s a date. I’m looking foreward to it already. And you’re certain I cant see you earlier? I’m already, ah… eager.” 

"Sorry. Dethklok is going to Germany to save little children or, ah, animals... no, that's Italy. Well, you know, the end of the year, we made too much again. Any special wishes for our anniversary, for the restaurant or... later?"

“Oh you know, whatever you like, I’m not so picky. We’ll call it a night just for you, since I’m certain you run ragged by those… musicians. You could use the personal time I’m sure.”

"Hmm, yes. Well, I will see you then, Tim. Goodbye." Timothy was fairly neutral on Charles attraction scale. He looked good enough and his vanity made sure it staid that way. Right now, Timothy bent over the edge of the bed was a very good image to him. Or, for heaven's sake, even himself doing that. Charles liked to turn things around on Timothy because the man was a thoroughly average top, but right now, he just wanted to get off so he would hopefully forget that a Klokateer was looking hot to him. How embarrassing was that, really? 

3665, who had patiently waited, spoke as soon as Charles turned the phone off with the tell-tale ‘click’. “Was yoo wifes? I ament never mets her, I tink, am she a gear?”

Charles almost dropped his phone. "I thought you left!" Anger flared up for a moment, but was quickly calmed down by his nature. "My, ah, partner. He doesn't live in Mordhaus." It wasn't a secret, but he would rather not discuss it with his employees… or employers, for that matter. "I trust you’ll be discreet?”

“Sorry I not lefts… am right? I taught yoo wants for me to looks at de buildings map. Yoo didn’t says to left.  I keeps many tings quiet for yoo. He yoo partners not wife?”

"Alright then… let‘s keep it that way then." He had much more dangerous inside knowledge on Charles than the kind-of-but-not-really secret of his sexuality. Charles sat down at his desk. 

 “Oh! I wants to knows dough-- yoo has pitcher? I want to.. Ah… can see Timothy?” he was curious.

The manager went through his files for the blueprint of the stage that would be erected on the Brocken just for Dethklok's concert, then looked up, one eyebrow raised. "... sure." 

Charles retrieved his wallet from the inner suit pocket. He carried a picture of Timothy with him, after two years (now approaching three) since he decided it was traditional to have something. He had one of Dethklok covering it, though, and now pulled the photo from behind it. 

Timothy was tall and lanky, definitely not a warrior, but with Julius Caesar's face and the appropriate beak-like nose and the sort of gaze that indicated he was always looking down on people. His dark brown hair was carefully dyed now, Charles knew, to hide the grey strands.

3665 tilted his head just slightly as he looked him over. Good looking, a very healthy bloodline for certain, but not his type at all. “Oh, so yoo wifes den. I see.” Because this man could obviously not provide for anyone.  

"Why do you keep calling men 'wife'?" He supposed it was just a nickname for 'Defuk' (which in itself just had to be a nickname), but this was getting a bit ridiculous. "Am I the husband or are we both wives, in this case?" No, it was not a question relevant to business or anything, he was just interested in this strange, strange man. 

“Because he wood be yoo wife, ja? Yoo am de hudsband and he de wife. Ahh…. Or whensever yoo does dat. I says before, Lokiss probably don’t care whens dat is. He ams a dude. Like dat.” 

"Well, whatever ‘Loki’ says, we can't marry here in, ah, America. Not all states, anyway." And it was certainly the first time anyone referred to that particular diety as a 'dude' as far as he knew; maybe picking up your English around Dethklok wasn't the most productive thing for a language beginner. 

“Ams we in Amerisica?” 3665 sounded a bit surprised. He’d thought Mordland was its own country.

"Technically." Though Charles had long installed measures to rip Mordland right out of the soil it stood on, and he'd like to see the government who could stop him.

"So the wife is the, ah, more... feminine partner?" he asked. It stroked Charles' ego a little, honestly. He was short, geekish, wore glasses and looked everything but intimidating, so it wasn't often that people chose him as the more manly part of a couple. 

 “De wife ams… weaker? Is easier where I am, usually who uh…. Feeds… dey ams de husdband. I was de husdband, you knows dis, ja?” he gestured to himself, as though anyone could see him as anything but masculine. Maybe he had been smaller and weaker years ago, according to his file, but it also put him at 36 years old with the body of a man that never left the gym. He was obviously no one’s wife. “Yoo Timothy am… very gud… blood.. Good wife, for yoo, I tink.. When you wants to does dat..” 

It sounded a bit like 3665 was describing a horse Charles wanted to buy, rather than a lover. "I see. That makes, ah, sense, though I'm surprised... your village allowed same-sex marriage?" In cultures as primitive as 3665's seemed to have been, that was hardly commonplace, since coupling was traditionally to ensure children. 

“…Why nots allowed that? I can marries whosever I wants.” he tilted his head again to show his confusion, a childish and puppy-like habit he was unaware of, having using it when he realized that simply staring blankly at someone from behind his mask really didn’t communicate anything at all. “As long as dey am from Outside, marry a man from Pjur is ah… no. Is hard to get gud people from Outside dough… Usually dey… old… sick… ugly. Yoo know dis.” He shrugged his large shoulders, another gesture he’d picked up as a Klokateer. 

The thing about Pjur made marginally more sense than the marriage rules, at least in context. The village was probably small, and even though Darwin was most likely not introduced, experience would have shown the dangers of inbreeding. "But wouldn't your, ah, family want someone who can continue your line? A woman to bear children?" 

“…Why nots my family can grow? Dats why I marry Defuk. We am had healthy strong Jake together, ja? Strong like me. My Ma, Låtgå, was from Outside.. She die from sick when I’m baby dough.” He shrugged. 

"Sorry for the loss of your mother." Magic or language barrier, certainly. Or maybe some Dethklok merchandising had hit him too hard in the head, or he was still grieving. Either way, Charles wasn't going to debate this ‘gay baby’ point until he had at least two months of English lessons more. 

“Is okay, Låtgå, she die when I’m little. She tried to go into de woods by herself and me, stupid.” he rolled his eyes behind the mask. He reached in his pocket for the newer and nicer picture of Defuk he’d drawn, this time only of Defuk’s scowling face, with a large and dark fur wrapped around him up to the chin “My fadder ament so guds at taksing care of hims wife. I am.. Better.”

Charles listened to him carefully, then took a look at the picture of Defuk, who even in the portraits that 3665 decided to show around looked like he was about to bite someone's head off. Slowly, he got a picture of how the people of Pure 'acquired' outsiders, and the horrified shadow of a smile appeared on his face as he imagined the terror of a mother driven to run into the woods with her newborn son, just to escape whatever she was going through at home. 

"Are you, ah, sure, your... outsider partners want to be there... ?" Weird stuff. No wonder 3665 was a good Klokateer, his hometown wasn't much nicer than Mordhaus. He’d never needed to be desensitized to the violence, it might even be somewhat preferable. There was plentiful food, money and heaters after all.

“Why nots? I makes sure Defuk have many food and fur and blanket. He stay inside every day, cuz am cold outside, you know? De snow always making Outsiders sick. Defuk smart, dough, he knows to be inside.” He smiled as he took the picture back, looking at it briefly, before putting it back in his pocket. 

Despite the creeping cold in his spine, it didn't worry Charles too much. Maybe 3665 had trapped someone in marriage and left him miserable and confused hiding in his tent, but it was not Charles' place to judge. He didn’t make a habit of employing sane or logical people after all, and he Dethklok didn’t pay him for marriage counseling. As long as he was a good bodyguard Charles didn't care what he had done in his past or was still doing in his free time. He worked with Dick Knubbler, for god's sake. 

"Well, regardless.. I wouldn't marry Tim anyway. He, ah, has lots of other partners." Why was he discussing all of this with a Klokateer? It just sort of felt like he had to defend himself for not marrying, when 3665 obviously put a great deal of stock into it. 

“…Has what?” 

"Partners. He sleeps... I'm his partner, but he also has sex with other people. That's why I wouldn't marry him."

“Timothy…. not only yoo?” his shock was obvious in his voice, and his large body seemed tense in shock, as though it were something more important than run-of-the-mill infidelity between businessmen. “Yoo lets yoo wi-- yoo lets him do dats!? Yoo cants… Lokiss woods…. why?” 

"Yes. He thinks I don't know. I suppose I don't like him enough to really be angry. It's fairly normal, partners, husbands and wifes who betray their partners and have sex with others, in the real world..Ah, america that is. Amongst most other countries."

“Dat is…. Bad. Uhh…. Lokiss… he….. He wood not likes dat………” the idea really made him a bit physically ill to think about. “If Defuk was wit udder mens from Pjur… I woods haves to kill dem, yoo know?”

"We're not that strict here Well, technically we are, but, ah, I don't care. I don't, ah, love Timothy." Sort of a bleak realization, if one said it out loud. It was true, though. "Does 'love' play a role in your marriages? Will you ever remarry? Or is that, ah, forbidden?"

“I sads dats yoo don’t has love… Ja, dere is love for us. I love-ed Defuk very much.. .  Still does love-ed. And ja, I can marries more cuz he ams pretty gud dead. Has anudder son. In Pjur yoo get to has one wife.. Until dey die. Den yoo has anudder. Not when alive.” He shook his head, seeming to shake off his shock. “Hahaha… I actually marries… very late, you knows? Dey all tinks I die with no sons… Was great big After-party. When we have wedding.”

"I suppose, for your culture." Mid-thirties was acceptable here. And the way 3665 spoke of Defuk was honestly affectionate, even if his husband had maybe wanted to bite his dick off. Kind of cute. "Well, how do you know that your.. Wife loved you back? You took him from home, maybe he missed his family?”

“…..Defuk love-ed me too.” 3665 was quite certain of this fact, actually, though there was no proof of it. Maybe not at first, but he had been an excellent husband so he knew Defuk had loved him before he died. 

The gear nodded his head to himself, stepping to the side of the desk to look over the blueprint for Dethklok’s knew concert stadium, a hand floating above it as he understood the structure. He didn’t know what the words on the margins said but he understood the building very quickly. There was the special room built into anything Dethklok related, a fail-safe in case of assassins or overall small groups of enemies. Those that were captured instead of killed could be tortured here rather than have their information lost, though with the overwhelming force and numbers shown by the Klokateers, there weren’t usually many survivors. 

"I'm sure." Not really, but 3665 was a nice guy. With the help of a little Stockholm's syndrome, it might have been a quiet marriage - until the Dethbox ended it rather abruptly 

“Is gud life, dough, now. To care for The Beloved Dethklok, helps dem. Sad for no love, but ahhh… maybe yoo find one day, ja? Yoo have time.” 

“Yes, well. Sometimes, I'm quite sure someone has to do it. But it's a very good life, yes." Charles smiled slightly, before his computer beeped and the moment ended. "Dethklok will board in a minute so it'd be best you go to the front and let someone show you how to operate the canons, just so you, ah, get an overview. Maybe you can visit me again before you go to sleep, as we'll fly overnight. Tell me what you, ah, learned." 

Charles had made the decision that he was not going to let 3665 fly the ship. Too many weird things happened around him and complicated technology. The canons were hopefully simple enough.

3665 nodded, dragging his eyes off the blueprint, certain that he’d managed to memorize most of it anyways. With a quick, completely unaccented ‘yes, my lord’ he stepped out of the room.

 By the time the Hatredkopter had lifted off he had managed to touch the canons without them bursting into flames (though one of them turned out to be dangerously loose, and it had taken almost everything he had to hold the behemoth in place as four other Klokateers rushed to screw it back in). 

He was shown the meal hall by a chatty klokette who seemed to think he should be able to speak Norewgian,  and received his customary free gear-grade meal (public-school quality Salisbury steak, a green vegetable, mashed (instant) potatoes and (large) boxed juice). He chatted a little with a highly confused French gear he knew from a previous concert before heading back up, wandering the halls in the hopes of finding Charles’ office again before he turned in.

Charles knew they'd arrive in Germany shortly, so he scheduled his work in a way that he could spent the two hours before the concert, when he knew Dethklok was being cared about by the costume and make-up department, asleep. However, his body was not in the mood for that; in fact, it was very active, at least one part of it. Charles couldn't even pinpoint what was doing this to him, he just knew he didn't like it and wished his body could go back to its usual low-needs ways. As it was, though, it was probably good to take care of his problem before he had to sit backstage with his legs crossed. Charles rolled to his side on the bed, grabbed for a tissue and pulled it under the blanket. Then, pointedly not thinking of anything, he started to touch himself, moving his hand quickly so he could get some sleep.

3665 finally located the room he knew belonged to Charles. It looked like every other door in the hallway, honestly, but 3665 was *fairly* certain that this was the right place. Not bothering to knock on the door, as he believed himself to be expected he turned the handle and stepped in. 

Charles almost slammed his head on the headboard when the door was thrown open, fully expecting a Dethklok member to stagger in. However, it was a Gear instead, and he knew which one, too. He had forgotten about asking him to come, but was it asking too much to knock at the door? 

It took 3665’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness of the room, lit only be a very small lamp, but the picture sort of painted itself. Charles’ flushed face,  the blankets pulled up to cover himself and a specific sort of scent in the air... He made himself hold back his smile, and carefully kept it from his voice as well, deciding to play dumb as he stepped in and closed the door, not wanting to embarrass him further. “Yoo asleeps? I am ah… Sorry. I taughts you wanted me to comes here for you before I go to bed?”

Charles didn't believe for a moment that he was as innocent as he acted, no one could not realize what was going on, language barrier or not. "Yes. Asleep." He rearranged his face into the business expression and shifted his thigh so that his manhood (still standing proudly and demanding attention, not to mention blood that should be in his head) didn't create a tent. He grabbed his glasses up from the side table and glowered at the now-visible gear.

The smile was forcefully creeping across his face and he gave in the fight to it. It was… cute, really. Charming somehow, to have found Ofdenson this way when he had once found Defuk in a similar position. The young outsider had been stretched out over their marital bed, nude as always save the fur he clutched, and the gear couldn’t help imaging how it might’ve looked had Charles been there instead. At the time he had rewarded his wife for the entertainment it had brought him, but the response wasn’t really appropriate in the present day and time. His imagination nonetheless helpfully molded the two together, and it was lucky that his jeans were too tight to allow an erection.

“Sorry I wakes yoo up den.” he said, his accent a hair thicker than it might have been had he meant it. He wanted to say something, do something, make a joke or elude to it but… Ofdenson would kill him, either flat out or have him rushed by all the Klokateers at once. Even if he escaped, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. “I knock from now.”

"It's alright." Usually, Charles would have stood up if he was talking to a subordinate, or anyone at all, really. But there was really no way to secretly stuff half-hard little Charlie back into the pants, so he gave up on that idea. "Did you, ah, learn how to work the cannon?"

“Ja, dey shows me what to does for de canons, den one falls off, but I catches it. De udder gears screws it back in dough, so is oh-kayy.” 

"Right, but you, ah, didn't shoot anyone?" Yes, it was dangerous to let him get anywhere close to the big weapons, he had known that, but his head security gear should at least be able to shoot down a plane. That was just customary. Although, Charles had to admit, he loved doing that duty himself. Maybe he was just a little boy at heart, but who didn't like handling canons?

“Dey shows me how, but dey think that I will maybe acshitdents hits one de Dethships. Was ahh… pretty gud to watch, dough.” Some secretly futuristic chunk of him had very much enjoyed the idea of a machine designed entirely to launched giant metal balls at enemies, heavy enough to decimate entire air dragons--helicopters. 

"Good. Well. Ah. We, we should maybe continue this talk later." He was going to finish this to ensure his concentration later on, no matter how embarrassing it was to send a Klokateer out with the subtle version off 'I want to jerk-off, please give me some space?'

“We talks later, okay ja.” he inclined his head. He had certainly memorized the scene well enough for now, though of course he wanted very badly to stay and watch him squirm a little longer, though the longer he waited the more of a tease it was. “I comes back uhhh…. Later. When is time to.” 

"Yes, when the Hatredkopter is about to land." 

3665 nodded again and turned rather suddenly to leave, closing the door tightly behind him as he headed towards the gear bunks.

Once the Klokateer was outside, Charles fell back into his pillows, removed the glasses and covered his face with his hands. Why was the world this unfair? It was not like he spent much time pleasing himself, and when he did it, it was usually quick and just to work off some steam. He hardly got aroused by men anymore because he had that part of him gagged and bound somewhere in a mental trunk; lust got in the way of clearly structured thinking. 

But now, as he wanted to finish the job, he couldn't get the picture of the Klokateer out of his head. Whenever he didn't concentrate on not concentrating on anything, his broad muscular body was back in view and he spoke something into Charles' ear in his broken English. Who knew a Scandinavian accent could still be sexy after listening to Skwisgaar and Toki for almost a decade? Christ, he had never seen his face, even. 

Still, approaching orgasm, he couldn't keep the pictures of riding 3665 out of his mind anymore, preferably in a tent filled with rugs... Afterwards, he felt stupid and when he fell asleep it wasn’t at all relaxing.