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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.

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Title: Regen (Rain) 4/28
Author: akasha6
Beta and co-writer: MrNaked
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 MrNaked for the wonderful job he did as a beta and co-writer and to lisa_thecat for the translation.

Chapter 4

“Actually it’s a pity. He is very special. Where did you find him?”

The question pulled Till from his own pool of thoughts. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to push the fringe back, off his forehead. He looked at the big, gray haired gentleman in his sixties that was waiting for his answer.

“What’s wrong Till? One would think your conscience is bothering you.”

He heard malicious laughter coming from everywhere.

Till remained motionless, with his forehead resting against the coolness of the window. He felt hot, his hands were wet with sweat and he was breathing heavily. For an hour, three of the guests were with Richard, in the cellar - in the “laboratory”, as he used to call it. An hour long like an eternity. He wished he could switch off his mind. Or at least, to have fun with one or more of the good looking young men spread around the house, like they were in every Sunday. Something was different this Sunday.

It has been raining nonstop for a week already. It rained and rained again. Till felt that he needed fresh air. With a jolt, he opened the large window. The rain whipped his face furiously. The air smelled of wet earth, of autumn - a season of death.

“Shit!”

Till stormed out of the room, followed by few intrigued glances.

“He’s only a little young thing you picked on the street. The world will get over him,” the older man commented, on a low, amused voice, more to himself.

He knew Till very well to worry about this. He knew that Till wouldn't have feelings, that he was selfish, with a numbed heart, because, he, his father, made sure of that.

Till went down the stairs, and ran through the long dark corridor in the cellar. Here started a labyrinth of gloomy passages. The small lamps lit up the wet walls and the basement vault, but only enough so one could see where they were going. Just like the daylight, no sound got through to down here; and it wasn’t supposed to either.

Till stopped in front of a large, heavy oak door. He was short of breath. He jerked the old iron door handle. It was locked, of course. It was the standard procedure.

“Time’s up! Open the door!” Till shouted and banged with his fist on the door.

He heard laughter coming from the other side of the door, followed by the sounds of the key turned into the lock. The door was cracked slightly, as this large silhouette stood there, blocking any possibility of peeking in. Till couldn’t see anything in the dark room.

“We have agreed for three hours and we paid for it, didn’t we, my pretty?” The guy spoke leaning toward him. His breath smelled of alcohol, and he smelled of sweat. “You can take his place if you want. But I am sure you wouldn’t want that, Till.” The man added, making Till to step back. But panic squeezed his heart like an iron fist.

“We haven’t touched his face, as you requested.” The guy said on a teasing voice. “He’s fine. After half an hour he fainted, but a bucket of cold water and he came back. Richard - nice name. It took a long time till he gave in to us.”

“I’ll give you your money back.” Till said, trying to temper his nervousness. “I’ll give you double. Leave him alone.”

“What is happening, Till? Do you want to chase our guests away?” He felt the weight of a heavy hand lay on his shoulder. “You brought him here. He is perfect. No one will miss him. He’s a good catch and I am very proud of you, my son. Or do you want to spend another hundred days here? All alone, away from daylight. Is this what you want, Till?”

He pulled his son from the door, and pushed him back in the corridor. Even at his age, the father had a strong hand. Both men climbed back, upstairs.

But Till wasn’t in the mood for guests, neither for lewd glances, or half naked, male bodies. He wasn’t in the mood for his father’s party.

Exhausted, he climbed the stairs to his room. He felt tired. He entered the room, but didn’t switch the light on. He let the door slam shut behind him as he walked to the bed and collapsed on it.

Till remained motionless, laid on the bed, listening to the gentle tapping of the raindrops against the windows.

When will all this stop?

Suppressing a groan, he took a pillow and buried his face in its softness. He inhaled - this scent, like a summer meadow in rain, it was Richard’s scent.

Rain.
tbc
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Regen (Rain)