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Spiel Mit Mir
By : lisathecat
Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein
Views: 1402 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: 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
4. Love
Christoph in my arms. He’s sleeping with his head resting on my chest. His bandaged hand around me. I never thought that… He’s always been the well-balanced one between us. I have always relied on him to remain calm and solve all the problems in a rational manner. The role of problem–child in this family has been traditionally mine. But all that happened now was in fact my fault. I pulled my brother down into my vicious world and he couldn’t find his safe way back by himself.
I hold him tighter. There’s something in this tragic situation that amuses me. What would the hospital psychiatrist say, if he saw us now? He, who dubbed Christoph just another case of temporary adjustment disorder, induced by the army stress… Just see us naked, legs entwined, sexes still touching. Embraced till confusion.
He wouldn’t understand shit. This is only between Christoph and myself. What we have here is this bond of love and sin that none of us can break without falling apart. I will never be able to love someone else the way I love Christoph. And no one will ever love me as much as he loves me. We’re stuck in this. Might as well enjoy it.
I’m gently kissing my brother’s closed eyes and he smiles. Even in his sleep, he knows it’s me. His blood recognizes me.
“I love you, Christoph.” I whisper.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I put him through so much pain that he wanted to… The scar on his left wrist will always be a reminder of my guilt. My selfish nature. And our sweet-poisoned sin.
I am caressing his hair and I reach to kiss his lips. He wakes up under my kiss and opens his mouth for more. I close my eyes wanting to drown into the tide of my brother’s love. The kiss tastes a little bitter… and salty...
“Don’t cry, Richard.” And he raises his bandaged hand to my face, to wipe the tears. Then I watch him put his fingers in his mouth, to feel the salt, and he’s so beautiful and he looks so innocent and fragile that I have to kiss him again.
“Christoph, don’t you ever…”
“Shush. Don’t worry. I love you, little brother. I will always be by your side.”
But I’m still crying and pulling him on top of me, wanting to feel him again, wanting all of his love. He kisses my chest devotedly, like it’s a religious act, and I am impatiently wrapping my legs around his waist. I want him now, with no other preparation, because I need the pain just as much as I need his love.
“No, Richard.”
And I feel stupid and rejected for a moment. But Christoph’s wet mouth down my body makes me forget it. He kisses my abdomen, my bellybutton, my belly… He greedily savors my cock while his slick fingers open me and make me all tingly and ready…
Love. Conjoined bodies shivering in ecstasy. Just love.
“I love you, little brother.”
“I love you too, Christoph.”
…
I wake up from a bad dream alone in my bed. Where is he? Thrown by the chair there lay my clothes from yesterday. Still stained with my brother’s blood. I pull up the jeans and get out of the room without remembering to button up. But I meet Christoph on the way to his room. He is all dressed up but looking pale and tired. I notice he wears a long sleeved shirt, trying to hide the bandage on his hand. He smiles at me.
“Get dressed and come downstairs. I want you to meet someone.”
What? I’m so confused I remain standing in place for a few moments. Then I go back to my room. I get dressed and some cold water on my face is supposed to replace the morning shower. My hair is a mess, tells me the mirror. But I don’t care.
Downstairs, there’s Christoph and another man. This other man is smiling happily. First impression – nice features, pleasant expression, sexy smile… But he’s too familiar with Christoph.
“Richard, this is Paul. Paul, this is Richard, my brother.” As we get closer to shake hands, something strikes me. I know this scent. I felt it on Christoph the first day he came home. My heart jolts.
“Nice to meet you, Paul.” And I instantly know I’m lying.
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