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Regen (Rain)	By : maybebaby Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2556 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Title: Regen (Rain) 14/28
Author: akasha6
Beta and co-writer: Mr Naked
Translation: lisa_thecat
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Till/Richard, Richard/Christoph, Christoph/Paul, Till/Gert
Disclaimer: None of this is true, it's all work of fiction.
Warning: This story contains imagery and ideas that some might find gory, immoral and possibly offending. (violence, BDSM, non-consensual sex, incest)

The author would like to thank Mr Naked for the wonderful job he did as a beta and co-writer and to lisa_thecat for the translation.

Chapter 14

Till lowered his head, staring at the floor between his feet as he put his arms behind his back – his father didn’t have to see how he balled his hands to fists. Outside he could hear another voice, an annoying one. Gert’s.

“What is it now? How long do I have to wait?”

Gert stormed in Till’s bedroom.

“How are you, my pretty?”

He walked slowly to Till, getting close, so close that he could feel the warm soft blow of Gert’s breath on his skin.

Till kept his cool. It was very important that he wouldn’t start anything now. No troubles. No provocation. He looked calmly in Gert’s eyes.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, watching Gert’s hand reaching out toward him.

But these two arms embraced him lovingly, from behind. Till froze, shocked, breathless.

Gert’s hand froze too, in the middle of its movement. The older man was looking at both of them, surprised.

“Do not touch him,” Richard said on a very calm and sure of himself tone.

The only answer Gert could give was that blue metallic flickering of the hatred in his eyes, making Till cringe inside. Gert knew, now. That wasn’t too good. That was actually really bad.

A cynical smile played on Gert’s face.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Gert mocked them, and his hand started again its movement toward Till’s face. “A couple of love birds!”

But just as his palm was about to cup over Till's jaw, the man in front of him was pulled backwards, escaping the touch of Gert's fingers.

“I told you not to touch him!”

Richard snapped and placed himself protectively in front of Till.

Gert’s expression of shock turned into this malicious and content grin. His glare scanned Richard's figure.

“You’re going to pay, for this, you little rat! I’m already happy for what will happen next,” he said on a calm, if not even cheerful tone. “And you,” and his poked Richard's chest with his index finger. “You will be mine tonight, and your sweetheart will be there to see it. I have something special prepared for both of you. But first I’ll enjoy the show.”

He threw another glance toward Till and then he rushed out of the room.

The couple remained motionless for another few seconds, as if still under a spell cast by Gert's words. Then, Richard lowered his head, moved a bit, embarrassed, stepped away from Till – the threat seemed to be gone, at least for now.

“I don’t like it when he touches you,” Richard almost whispered, choking on the words, avoiding looking up at the bigger and muscled man.

Till sighed.
“I told you to be quiet.” He looked at Richard insistently. “Please, promise me that you won’t say one more word, no matter what happens.”

Richard nodded. He was afraid. Till could see it in his eyes.

“Everything will be alright,” Till murmured, avoiding Richard's gaze too. He patted the other man's shoulder gently and directed him outside the room.

If only he could believe his own words…

In his head, thoughts crossed each other. He didn’t want Richard to get harmed in any way, but he knew exactly what kind of things his father was expecting him to do. There was always something that he enjoyed when watching his son suffering or in some sort of pain.

When Till was very young there were the words first. But the hatred and the intent to harm were so thick and strong, worse than a punch in the face. Oh, and his father knew how to hit just the most painful spots. Till's mother. (“That dirty cunt of a whore your mother is!”), Till himself as being the son of that cunt (“You are no better!”). After a while you start to agree. When you agree, words cease to hurt that bad. When you agree, you stop caring. This thin layer of ice grows millimeter by millimeter to cover the delicate surface of your heart.

As Till grew up, along with the words, came the beatings. With the hand. With the belt. With the whip. And they weren't outbursts of rage against an obnoxious child that didn't behave. They were tortures, meant to create the pain, to make it obvious on the young boy's face and eyes – it was like a good wine his father took his time to sip and enjoy. And with the beatings and the tortures were the imprisonments. The dark, wet cells in the cellar, where Till was locked in, for days in a row. In those dark, wet cells, the layer of ice covering his heart grew thicker and thicker.

Then came that evening. Till was 16 and the other man – the first man – he seemed ages, centuries, millenniums older than that teenager boy, that frightened and frozen inside boy. In that evening that piece of ice inside his chest was crushed, it became some sort of dust washed away by the waves of pain that so older guy was provoking him.

Till’s father noticed quite fast that he has a little treasure in his house and he could make money from that. There were other young men too, in that house. Poor, penniless. Somewhat cheap. But soon all customers’ eyes were on Till.

That hollowness in his chest wasn't yet the worst. One night, when Till was lying in his bed, exhausted after a long day of “work”, staring through darkness, with dead eyes, his father entered his son's room. Till didn't move, he only watched that shadow sitting quietly on the bed near him. Then the shadow stretched out its arm and brushed gently the strands of hair off Till's forehead.

“You should see yourself with my eyes, Till,” the shadow whispered. Maybe it was the darkness itself pouring words in the boy's ear. “You are so beautiful in your pain.”

The shadow stood up, and started unbuttoning its shirt. Something broke inside Till. Something fragile and tender. He felt it agonizing in him and dying. It left behind only this carcass, his body that everyone, his father, his father's friends, Gert, were doing their dirty deeds with.

That was twelve years ago. But Till still remembered like it was yesterday.

“Till.”

He felt this touch on his arm, a hand pulling him from his thoughts. Till looked at Richard as if awaken from an intense dream; a most terrible fear took over – the fear that he had to hurt him.

“Come!”

He took Richard’s hand and they walked out the room into the corridor.

The wind howled outside, making long branches of the trees to swirl and moan, then it slammed open one of the largest windows. The rain splashed the heavy silk drapes, soaking them. It smelled of wet leafs. It smelled of death. The weak light from the torches lit the corridor. Thunder.

Hand in hand, without saying a word, the two men walked through the passage. Till felt Richard's palm in his – firm and warm; Richard's thumb moved over the back of Till's hand. Tenderly. Caressing.

When they reached the glass entrance door to the big lounge, Richard stopped. Till looked at him, worried. Richard was pale like a ghost, and his eyes were darkened by fear. Till felt Richard's palm getting sweaty and shivery.

“Think of a walk in the sun. Both of us. On a beach. Caught in eternity.”

Before his whispers would melt into the silence of the hallway, Till pulled Richard close to him and held him tight. His heart beat painfully against the ribs.

“I will take you to an exit that nobody else knows. And I need you to run. Run as fast as you can. Run for your life.”

Richard shook his head. He wore a stern look in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll do anything you want but please, don’t send me away. I’m not leaving you alone here. No way!”

Richard's fingers clawed painfully at Till's upper arm, as if to assure the other man that he's clinging on him and not intending to let go. Never.

“I’m coming after you. As soon as I can. Please, you…” Till's words have been cut by the sudden opening of the door. Gert stood in the threshold, before them.

Gert smiled and opened his arms, then stepped toward the two of them.

“My boys!” He said on this cheerful tone. “How beautiful you look today!”

Gert got close to Till. So close that he furtively touched his lips with his own. Till never looked at him so reluctantly as today. Actually, Gert had always adored Till. He had given him every little thing he wished for. He had paid insane amounts of money to have him for an hour. It was all over. Jealousy could be deadly.

Gert’s lips touched Till’s cheek, and then worked their way up to Till’s ear.

“Have you really though that we were going to do you this favor?” Gert's whisper poured trembling hot into Till's ears. “Have you really thought that we were gonna let you keep your little toy? You’re so naïve, Till!”

Gert stepped back and watched the couple in silence. Better said, studied them.

“Let him go. When I see that you let him go, you will have me, Gert.” Till answered on a soft, controlled tone, but he squeezed hard Richard's hand, warning him to remain silent.

Gert chuckled: “You’re forgetting something, Till.”

Till could read desire and jealousy in Gert's eyes, entwining like snakes, poisonous and deadly snakes.

“Please. Please, let him go.” Till whispered on the same controlled tone. He freed Richard's hand.

Gert seemed to be thinking, to be weighting the situation.

“Ok,” he said after few seconds of pondering. “You know that I've always been very generous to you. And will keep being, of course, from now on. Starting with the moment when you will belong to me. It won’t take long until I convince your father. It’s only a matter of money, after all.”

Gert threw a full of meanings glance to Till. In fact, all the time he talked, he was looking only to Till and addressing only to him.

“We have also changed our short-term plans,” he added. “We will let your little friend go, and he'll get a nice parting gift, also. One junkie more or less. Somebody might find him…I hope… if he still lives...”

Gert sighed; he touched Till's throat with the back of his fingers, brushing over his skin and the shape of his jaw line.

“You have five minutes to say good bye. I'm in a very generous mood today,” he announced smiling. “I'll be waiting for you Till. And you won't have any headaches today or other excuses to avoid me. You’ll never have headaches again.”

Gert's smile widened for a split of a second, but his eyes were cold like ice snakes. He turned and entered the lounge.

“Although…” Till heard Gert's voice again, and in that moment he knew. “Wait…Have you earned my generosity?”

Without turning, Gert signaled to the four men that were waiting at a certain distance from him.

The last thing Till saw before his world exploded in his head - Richard’s eyes. Two deep blue seas.
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Regen (Rain)