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Complications Of The Flesh	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1262 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
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Title: Complications Of The Flesh 5/10
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr. Naked
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Till/Christoph, mentions of Till/Flake
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Beta: hannelore_k
Author’s note: Based on lisa_thecat’s wonderful “Dirty Story”.

V.

*Tainted by the naked eye…*

“Christoph who?” The guy at the bar grumbled at me.

It was one of the gay clubs I knew he hung out in, picking up clients sometimes.

“Tall, dark, curly hair, blue eyes…”

“Listen!” The guy said on a low, blunt tone, as he leaned over the counter a bit. “Who the fuck are you? The cops? Fuck off, I know no Christoph!”

I sighed, frustrated, and walked out in the street. It was getting dark, really, really cold, and the streets were almost empty. People had better things to do. It was the second day in a row I didn’t find him and I was getting really furious. Only a few days until the next year would start, and I was getting more depressed by the hour. I didn’t even feel like drinking. I wanted him. I needed him.

I stopped near the car and opened the door.

I took out my mobile and threw it on the dashboard.

I felt something like a poke in my ribs.

“Give me the wallet, watch, and keys to the car, asshole!”

I froze on the spot. Now, this was getting too much. To get mugged like this!

Something like a flame burst in my chest. That was the last straw. All I had to do was to turn, smack the face of the idiot behind me, and then see how many more there were.

“Listen, you fucking…”

This blow on the back of my head threw me to the ground, and I almost hit my temple on the metallic edge of the car.

A tank hitting me in the stomach - I was breathless.

“Why the fuck can’t you just do what you’re told, you asshole? Huh?” Another kick in the chest, even though I was trying to protect myself with my arms. “Why the fuck do you have to start drama?” I opened my mouth, trying to suck air in, but I couldn’t. My body wasn’t listening to me anymore, my lungs were deprived of air, I knew it, I felt it, because I was breathless, yet, I couldn’t inhale. Another kick in the head taught me the lesson to keep it as covered as possible.

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

The two pairs of legs battering me halted. I was trapped between two pairs of army boots and the opened door of my car.

“I said leave him alone!”

I knew that calm voice that was getting closer. It was him. How the hell did it happen for him to be around here at that moment?

I moved slightly, not daring to start to stand, in case they’d turn and kick me in the face or some other place as I was getting up. But the two guys didn’t turn to me. They took one step away. Then a next one, then another and another, leaving me there.

“Oh, shit!” I heard his sigh near me, and then I felt him trying to help me stand up. “Oh, shit!” He sighed again, looking at my face, once I got up from the ground.

I hurt. My arms hurt, the back of my head, the side of my head, my chest, my shin…

“We’ll put you on the other side, and I’ll drive,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

“No,” I grumbled and touched my face. I wasn’t bleeding; my nose was intact.

“Ok.”

I pushed his hands aside and took my place behind the wheel. My head was throbbing, but it was more about this heavy, blunt feeling I had in me. The humiliation. Being so helpless, at their mercy. That was the worst pain.

“We could go to my place. It’s not too far from here, and closer than your home,” he suggested on a barely audible voice.

I didn’t look at him. I lifted my hand and touched the back of my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, just climbed in the car, on my right.

*I still recall the taste of your tears…*

“Get out! Go score your shit elsewhere!”

Christoph kicked the pile of rags that covered a human body sprawled on the stairs of this semi-abandoned building. He didn’t lie - he was living pretty close to the place I got beaten up.

“They get stoned here, then they shit and do other stuff on the stairs,” he explained to me. “It’s not nice when you come home at night and there’s not much light here,” he continued chattering as I was following him through the dark labyrinth of narrow and smelly hallways.

Did he live there or did he bring me to finish what those two had started?

And why was he chattering like that? He wasn’t usually so talkative.

“Here it is,” his words put an end to our apparently pointless wander through that creepy place.

His place - just as poor as the outside, but cleaner. At least he had a clean towel to wet with cold water and clean the blood off the back of my head. His arms made a circle around me, thus bringing him closer to my body, so I could feel the warm gentle breeze of his breath on my skin. His scent - cold air and a bit salty - invaded my senses, intoxicating me, luring me.

“It’s your fault,” I said quietly, saddened, exhausted.

“How come?” He asked, focused on removing the mud from my face and hair.

“If you would have been there today, this wouldn’t have happened.”

His hand halted in mid-movement of applying the cold fabric over my swelling corner of the eye.

“I am not at your disposal.” He said on a calm, but icy cold tone. “If I want your money, I go out on the street. Your money or anyone else’s, as a matter of fact.”

I swallowed this lump in my throat.

He continued applying the wet, cold towel over the bruises on my face.

For about a minute or two I let him nurse my wounds. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t be forced to look at his face.

Then I opened my eyes.

He wasn’t looking at me; he was focused on wiping mud off my temple.

“So, what we do here is strictly business? Those few hours a day…”

“Uh huh,” he replied, not stopping.

“Then tell me how much I owe you for today, I have to go now.”

His hand stopped moving. His blue glare pierced through me. He let his hand fall alongside his body. He squinted his eyes, his face losing that expression of indifference.

“You know that it isn’t what I meant,” he said on a soft voice.

“Then?”

He shook his head, then lowered his glance and sighed.

“Why do you have to…?” But his voice broke, as he looked again at me. “What do you want from me, Till? You act like you own me. You’re after me every day. What do you want?”

I looked back at him. And I smiled. He was looking back at me, startled. That’s when I reached out, put both my hands on the sides of his face and brought him close to me. I grabbed his lips between mine and I started to kiss him. He remained still, frozen on the spot, as my mouth was tasting, suckling and licking the tender skin on his lips. Dry and soft.

But then I had to let go. To leave the warmth of his lips. To detach from the kiss, to straighten and to back away. He remained still, looking at me as if hypnotized.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and motioned to step aside, to go, to leave him and that place.

He lifted his hands. He placed his palms on my shoulders, and brought himself closer to me. His lips touched timidly my lips, but I opened my mouth, welcoming his kiss.

To be continued...
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Complications Of The Flesh