Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Wicked Games	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2287 -:- 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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Title: Die Liebe Ist Ein Wildes Tier (Wicked Games, Part 6)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr naked
Rating: NC-17, M/M sex, coarse language, all the tasty stuff
Pairing: Who else? Till/Christoph
Disclaimer: This is all pure fiction; none of this happened, it’s only a product of my sick mind!
Summary: Jealousy is a curse.
Tunes list (these are the songs mentioned in the story, and that I’ve listened to for inspiration and writing mood): “Amour” – Rammstein, “One” – U2

Die Liebe Ist Ein Wildes Tier

***

“Talk to me, you little tramp!” Christoph yells again at me, but I turn my back.
Even though he is behind me, I feel that moment, I anticipate his drum stick already flying furiously toward me. So I move and duck slightly; the stick hits a wall and falls on the floor with a ridiculously empty sound.

“I’m nobody’s tramp, Schneider!” I yell turning back to face that cock sucker.

“You, two, cut it out!” comes that growl followed by the appearance of Till’s big body.
That angry look on his face makes us both freeze.

Till’s fingers clutch on my wrist, his other hand grabs Christoph’s arm and that tall and heavy pissed off man drags both of us, like little kids, into the small space of a dressing room.

“Stop acting like two fucking brats!” he grunts.

“Look, Till…” I dare.

“This is serious, not a fucking game!” he bursts, making me shut my mouth and step back.

Christoph isn’t even looking; he’s keeping his head lowered, with his gaze on the floor.

“The band is the band, everything else is everything else,” growls Till. “Stop fucking around! Act like grown ups!”

I clench my jaws in frustration.

This is so fucking annoying. It isn’t my fault Christoph cannot cope with rejections. It’s not my fucking fault if he doesn’t understand! I don’t owe him explanations for saying “no” and refusing to fuck with him the night before.

And I’m nobody’s tramp!

“Two brats, that’s what you are!” humphs Till and he storms out of the room.

I look in the brightly lit mirror – yeah, everything is in order; my face looks greater than ever, hair’s alright. And there’s Christoph walking slowly, with his head still lowered, going toward the door.

“Not man enough to throw the other stick at him, eh?” I grin.

My teeth are so white, man! Perfect!

“Yeah, you’re beautiful, princess!” He mutters.

I turn my head to slice his face with my angry glance.

“That’s a compliment, since it’s coming from someone that sucked Till’s cock,” I grin.

“Like you didn’t suck his cock, little tramp!”

“I’m not a tramp!”

“Then explain why you throw your legs in the air for me!”

“I didn’t last night, and that’s what’s eating you!”

“You’ll get back to yourself!”

“No shit! I’m not in love with you, Christoph! You’re just a fuck!”

His hand doesn’t grab anything to throw at me. He just lifts his head, looking at me from up there, but that doesn’t make me feel crushed.

“Just a fuck, eh?”

“Yeah! And not even among the best fucks I’ve had. Just a fuck. Until somebody better comes along...”

“And who’s that somebody better?” His eyelids lower a bit just to focus more of his blue-eyed, disdainful gaze filled with hatred at me.

“None of your fucking business,” I reply, grinning again, feeding on his anger that is contorting his face’s features.

He lowers his head; again, he crosses his arms over his chest, as if this gesture could prevent him from falling.

“What were you doing with Till on that roof, the other morning?”

His choked voice has that dark tone, as if he’s fighting with his own anger and desperation.

“It’s him you want, eh, kleine? You used me, and now, when you don’t need stupid credulous Schneider any longer, you dump me!”

“Oh, get over it!” I throw at him as I pass by him and open the door.

“You’ll pay for this, tramp!” he growls as I get out of the small room.

“Oh, please!” I burst into laughter, running to join the others on the back stage.

***

But he didn’t seem eager to make me pay back in the days that followed.

Oh, please, I dared to say “no” and now I’m a tramp! But now, here he is again, chasing me in the hotel’s hallway.

“You can’t love him after what he did to you, Rich!”

“Oh, really?”

“I’ve been your friend for so long, I’ve…”

“My friend thinks I’m a tramp. No, thank you, Doom!”

“You know very well I was angry, Rich. C’mon man!”

“I’m tired, Christoph.”

I push my room’s door to get in, but his hand grabs the handle, preventing me from entering.

“Let me get in, Schneider!”

“Rich, ya know…”

His breathing is a bit heavier all of a sudden, his head is next to my face, I can feel on my cheek the warmth of his skin, my nostrils are filling with his scent, the scent of his hot sweat after the concert. A yummy scent…

“No way, man!” I shake myself out of this warm, luring torpor invading the fibers of my body and I push the door.

His hand loses its grip on the knob, so I rush in and close the door in his face. I prop my body against the wooden surface.

“Richard! Open the fucking door!”

I turn the key in the lock, while he keeps banging on the door and twisting the handle violently.

He got off my ass for too many days, that’s why he’s probably back at it again now.

“Open it!” I hear his growls behind the door.

I thought he doesn’t love me anymore, what the fuck does he want now?

“Fuck it man! Open the stupid door!” he yells jerking the knob, making it to sound so weird, like he’s trying to unlock it or something.

And those bangs, like he’s hitting the door with his foot!

In silence, I lift my middle finger, as if he could see me through the door, and give him the bird. This is really silly! I burst into laughter, wondering if he’s going to really break the door.

But no, he stops. So I press my ear on the door’s wooden surface to pick his steps while he’s going away.

“Jealous freak!” I giggle as I turn around.

The little room is so quiet and I’m so tired. But, hey, the performance tonight was great, we were all brilliant, it all went smoothly, the machine worked perfectly.

Maybe I should call New York to talk a bit with my girls back home! Wouldn’t want them to feel neglected. But first, a shower and a drink! No, first a drink!

How the hell did he find out about me and Till, the other morning on the roof? Was he spying on us? The image I have in my mind with us there, kissing and stuff, and Christoph – a peeping Tom – really makes me laugh now.

Nah, probably Flake told him that he met us in the hallway, or he was peeking from his room and saw us passing by.

Jealous freak!

I go to the little fridge, passing near the small table where the laptop sits… Hey, I didn’t leave the laptop open and turned on!

Man, guess I’m getting old, forgetting things like this! Better turn it off, probably this thing has been running for hours!

So I press “Enter” to get rid of the screen saver to be able to turn the thing off. But… this is interesting! The black wavy screen disappears and now I can see something on my screen… It’s divided into a few square windows; images, still images from different angles, captured from a room and what appears to be a bathroom - a small hotel room, just like mine.

But it’s not exactly mine, as I see, seconds later, a silhouette, a tall slim man walking around, naked, with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. And the guy just walks around the room, arranging stuff, like he’s getting ready to get a shower.

Hmmm, that’s Christoph!

This is becoming sickening! I think, getting ready to turn off the laptop. What the fuck does he think? That he’ll get me back by putting on a wanking performance on web-cam, or whatever the fuck he is using?

But my fingers move away from the keyboard, and I turn to pour myself something to drink. When the fuck did he arrange all this? I wonder as I seat myself in front of the laptop, with the glass in my hand. It looks like he’s not going to try to enchant me with his naked body while playing with himself or something like that. He goes to the entrance now, and he opens it for someone.

“We have to talk.” I hear that husky voice as I see Till coming into Christoph’s room.

Oh, boy!

“No shit!” answers the other man standing right in front of Till’s big-shouldered body, maybe too close for an almost naked guy…

“Cut out the shit, Christoph!”

“You didn’t want to talk before.” Christoph’s voice comes through the speakers, while Till pushes past him to get in the middle of the room, as Schneider is closing the door.

“I still don’t, but first, this can’t go on like this, and, second, you called me!” comes now the raspy voice of Till, and I see him taking a seat on Christoph’s bed.

“What do you have to tell me?” I hear Schneider, and I see him in a different window on my screen.

He’s in the bathroom, arranging stuff for his shower and turning the water on.

“Leave Richard alone.” I hear and see Till in the other window.

He’s lying on the bed now, like it was his own.

“Why?” asks Christoph appearing in the same window where Till’s laid on the bed. “So you can abuse him more?”

“Look who’s talking!” and a deep chuckle explodes in the speakers. “Why the fuck did you team up with him, anyway?”

Now it’s the turn of Christoph’s muffled giggle to come through the speakers as I see him in different windows, again in the bathroom.

“You’re the one treating him like shit,” replies Till, sitting up.

“You treated me like shit!” snaps Christoph from the bathroom, looking in the mirror, but not at himself… He’s looking at the tiny object in the ceiling, reflected in the mirror, that object that allows me to see him. He’s looking at me!

And he grins. He knows I must be watching by now.

“It hurts you when I give the lil shit what he deserves, eh?” asks Christoph, leaving that window and entering the one where I can see Till sat on the bed.

Get out of there Till! Don’t play his shitty game, man!

“You know, little nerve’s wars shouldn’t come with us on the stage,” says Till and I see him rising, getting closer to Christoph.

“I was the one that held him all those years while you treated him like dirt,” grins Christoph.
“And now he doesn’t want you anymore, that’s why you act like a fucking grumpy ass. But you want me to lick your balls and…!”

“Get over it, little boy!”

“And you’re playing with us!” howls Christoph heading again to the bathroom.

“Listen!” growls Till running after him, but Christoph turns around, grabs the back of his neck and sticks his mouth on Till’s lips.

Fuck! You fucker! Leave him alone!

I storm to the door. Unlock the door. Pull the knob. The door isn’t opening! Fuck! Jerk harder on the stupid handle! What the fuck?! Pull harder! Hit the door!

Nothing!

Locked!

I’m locked inside!

Let me out!

Now they are in each other’s arms. Kissing!

Fuck!

“I don’t want him, Till!” comes through the speakers.

Under my stunned eyes, his towel is falling on the floor and his thighs get around Till’s legs, rubbing against them.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved in this,” comes Till’s muffled voice, as he’s kissing Christoph’s neck, up and down, to the collar bone, then again up, to that delicate line of his jaw. “You play with fire, you get burnt!”

The phone!

“You’re the one playing with us both, then acting like the innocent one!”

I pick up the phone. Can’t hear anything. It’s dead! What the fuck?

“This shit is over, Christoph.”

“I’m not your balls-licking whore,” comes that hiss, choked by quickened breath.

The cord. Fuck! The phone’s cord is cut off!

“You’re what I want you to be, Schneider,” that raspy choked voice makes it’s way through the speakers, into my room.

“No shit! And what do you want me to be now?” purrs Christoph’s voice.

Fuck! Fucking shit!

The phone flies off the wall and falls on the floor with a desperate squeak. My cell phone! Where the fuck did I put it? Fuck!

“Get in the tub and I’ll show you, Christoph!”

Shit! Phone isn’t in my pockets! The luggage!

Things fly around the room as my hands desperately scatter after that fucking phone.
It’s not here either! It’s gone! He took it! Shit, I can’t find it! He took it!

“What are you gonna do with that, Till?”

I freeze in front of the laptop’s screen.

In that small window, in that bathroom, in that tub, Till is kneeling, naked already, in front of Christoph.

The back of Till’s hand is running slowly across Christoph’s thin thigh. Christoph’s gasping breath comes through the speakers.

No, Till, please!

But he doesn’t hear. He’s spreading a thin bubbly layer of soap on the standing man’s thighs, his fingers caressing his balls, his hand digging deeper, rubbing with soap Christoph’s inner thighs and further, between his buttocks.

And that tramp is enjoying it, whimpering slightly, biting his fucking lips, like a stupid broad, caressing the hair of the man I love. And the man I love raises his other hand, while leaning his head backwards, looking for a few seconds into that whore’s eyes. And on that whore’s lips floats a faint smile, as he sees the razor in Till’s hand getting closer and closer to his thighs, then traveling upwards to his full balls, getting higher, above Christoph’s erect cock.

You like it, you fuck!

I should do something. Don’t just stand there Richard! Stop fucking staring at them and do something!

But my body just slides slowly, sitting on the chair to see the screen better. And I see Till shaving with slow and careful movements around Christoph’s cock, making that whore hold his breath, then whimper and gasp for air. Then I see Till getting in the shower, the plastic end of that silver snake spurting hot water, and he washes the soap off of Christoph’s now shaved balls.

Then, in different windows, from different angles, I see the big naked man’s tongue reaching closer and closer to touch the tender skin on Christoph’s balls. Then, his lips kiss the base of that tramp’s cock. Till starts to rise as his mouth goes further, kissing along Christoph’s tight abdomen, then on his chest.

Both of Christoph’s hands are playing with Till’s hair and caressing the back of his neck, as Till sucks his nipples, one by one, his thick lips looking like taking gulps of the pink skin. But Till keeps rising, their faces get closer, and Christoph’s lips are brushing Till’s lips now, like trying to steal a kiss.

“Bend over, Christoph,” whispers Till on that shithead’s lips.

I bite my lip. I reach my hand to the screen, like trying to get through, to touch his strong wide shoulder, to stop him from kneeling behind Christoph, to stop him from lifting that idiot’s leg and placing it on the edge of the tub.

The sound of the shower water floods through my room, rhyming along with the boiling storm in my soul.

Till’s fingers spread again a thin layer of soap between Christoph’s parted legs and buttocks. Slow movements; I swear I can hear his choked husky laugh covered by the sound of running water.

I see that whore’s face all relaxed, with eyes closed and lips parted. By Till’s hand movements, I can tell he’s shaving him again, carefully, with slow draws. I see Till’s strong thick arm reaching, getting the shower’s head and now he’s washing off the soap. His chest rises; then his face gets closer to the whore’s parted thighs. That tramp’s moaning starts to flood my room through the speakers, as Till’s tongue is touching - I bet - wet and hot, all those sensitive nerve endings around Christoph’s hole.

And the whore has propped his hands against the wall, leaning his head backwards, whimpering through his open mouth, moaning with eyes closed, looking like he’s transported off this world, as I see Till’s hand moving between Christoph‘s thighs.

My finger reaches and touches the body, that big strong, bulky body as he is rising on my screen, behind Christoph’s bent back.

Don’t do this to me!

But there are too many walls and too many rooms between us for my thoughts to reach their destination.

Till is lubing him, his fingers set Christoph’s hips in a better position, his big and wide palm props the tip of his cock between that whore’s buttocks. Christoph’s back is arching, a long hiss invading my room through the speakers. Christoph bends even more, putting his leg down and taking support on the bathtub’s edges.

Till’s hand reaches and wraps around Christoph’s erect cock, starting to rub it as he begins to thrust. And that tramp’s moan starts rising as the thrusts get faster and as the hand around his cock is quickly rubbing. His moan melts in the running water’s noise, with Till’s deep groans, as the rhythm gets quicker – a wicked dance, a dirty sound rising higher and higher, faster and faster.

Tramp’s fingers clench on the tub’s edges, I swear I see his knuckles getting white, as the man behind him pounds harder in his shaking body, leaning over his back, biting and licking his skin, making him hiss and groan, making him stretch his neck, with open mouth, like trying to get gulps of air as a big thick pulsing cock is digging deeper and faster inside him. His tongue is licking those parted dry lips, as he growls and as Till’s fingers clench on his flat abdomen.

A split of a second later, a white spear blows off from Christoph’s cock, between Till’s fingers, to fall behind the tub’s wall, away from my eyes. Till’s body freezes as he grunts heavily with his head leaning backward. His eyelids squeeze, and his eyebrows furrow a bit as if he’s surprised at what just happened. Then, he finally releases himself in a long and deep moan.

I don’t know, maybe it’s the steam from the hot water, but the images I see now are like through a thick mist. And I’m too astonished to move my body to take a closer look. Through that mist I see Christoph turning, kissing Till’s lips, a long, hot passionate kiss. Till’s arms are wrapped around that straight thin body, his hands caressing Christoph as he lets himself be washed and kissed with so much affection. Then I hear Christoph’s giggles at Till’s jokes… That game of teasing each other shreds my ears, my soul, and my mind. Their joy is a knife carving ruthless slices through my heart.

Through the thick mist, I see that whore’s hands wiping, with a towel, the water off that body I worship and wanted to be only mine.

Now I see shadows through the mist; as they get dressed, one is leaving the room, and, when left alone, the other one is getting his face closer to a window on my screen.

“Do you still want him, Rich?” I hear his voice through the speakers, from this deep dark frozen hell I’ve fallen into.

The mist is too thick in front of my eyes, my body is like dead; not able to move, my brain is too comatose to even think.

“I know you’re there, kleine,” comes through the speakers again.

Through the foggy image, I see the hand getting closer to the window. I see his palm on the screen, followed by those blurry images shuffling as they move too fast for my gaze to catch anything coherent, then the things on my screen become still.

The cam is facing a computer’s screen. On that screen I see a guy sitting in a tiny room, alone. That guy has black spiky hair, and his face… a white marble face, with endless wet streams glittering along his cheeks. His face looks like that guy’s whole world has been shattered and all he had was wiped out, in a blink of an eye.

“You said revenge is sweet, kleine,” grins Christoph at me, through the screen. “How does defeat taste , Richard?”

***

I’m not everyone’s tramp! I’m not the one to be passed around between those two so they can have their fun with me and then leave me for the next player.

We’re on the road again. Our journey seems to never end. I see lands, places, all running in a straight line as our bus takes us to our next stop. We stop for a meal, a cig, a concert, something. Then we go again.

Roads, endless roads ahead of us, the world receiving us with its arms wide open, and we are the spoiled children in a magical bus tour. We just stop to catch our breaths and then we move on.

I’m sitting, my arms folded on my chest, looking around, looking at him. Till. It’s been hard in the last few days to just keep smiling, playing the role of good old Richard. In fact I feel like an open wound, bleeding pain and disappointment. I can’t believe it hurts so much. I can’t believe that I still have this “you’re not allowed to touch him, he’s mine!” feeling. I can’t believe how broken I am; this emptiness inside me making my heart to have this little painful squeeze.

He’s lagging, sat over there in his seat, head resting on the large window of the bus. He probably got dizzy from all those images running on the other side of the window… houses, mountains, fields, people, cities, villages.

I don’t want to lose you, Till… My gentle giant who has so much warmth and so much love to give. And he gives all that to others, but not me!

A hooker that falls in love is a stupid whore. That’s what they say. But I’m not a whore, I’m no one’s toy. I might clench my teeth and not say anything when I get humiliated, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it.

I want to go there, near him, I want to sit next to him and to just chat about all those sights, about our next concert, about everything in this world, an opportunity for me to dive into the warm feeling, be rocked gently by his voice, even touch him accidentally, to discover that I’m staring too much, impermissible in Till’s glittering eyes, to lower my gaze in shyness… to hope, to long.

But I don’t have the guts to. I just caress, with my gaze, his body laid there, hoping that he‘ll feel my touch somehow, my warmth, and that he’ll wake up and look at me and eventually smile at me - a still asleep smile!

This would make me just happy!

I want to get closer to his body cuddled on that couch, to gently run my finger along the lines of his face, to arrange the fringe on his forehead. I want to run my finger along the arched lines of his eyebrows, then to go down to feel under my fingertips the short stubbles along his cheek. I want to go gently along his lips, those so strong and well-contoured lips, then onto his pointy jaw line. I want to travel along his curved neck, down on his shoulder, to start exploring the wideness of his back, with tensed muscles under the texture of his shirt. I want to feel the craving to cuddle there with him, to snuggle my face in his armpit and inhale his scent. I want to rub my face against the warmth of his strong chest, and to put my arms around his waist, to get his body closer to mine. I want to rub my thighs against his thick long legs, to embrace his thighs with my own legs.

Then, I’d be happy!

Why did you have to do this to me, Till? Did I disappoint you, leave a bad taste in your mouth? Did I ask you for too much, more than a lot?

But there’s the whore, the stupid fuck that lured Till into his room and… That flame bursts painfully in my chest. There he is, happy about what he did to me, using Till to…

And Till fell so easily, he jumped into his arms so quickly. Too quick for… oh, I don’t even dare to formulate this thought in my mind!

Took quick for someone who didn’t know about the cams, for someone who claims he loves me and wants me back! His face, all ecstatic, and those moans, in Christoph’s room – those are burning images and sounds flaming my insides.

A heated snake is making its way up from my guts, through my chest, growing as it’s rising, invading all my fibers, my bones, my cells with this raging heat, and making my body shake.

I can’t believe that whore started this war with me! And I can’t believe Till is such a fucking traitor! I can’t believe how badly I can suffer over all this, when I shouldn’t give a shit. I can’t believe I want him so much; after all he did to me! The pain and the tears, seeing him having so much fun with Christoph are unbearable!

I can’t believe as I think of it, of me, that specific night. Not being able to sleep, in my bed, lying in that fetal position, with knees squeezed under my chin, feeling so small, so abandoned, so ashamed by all those tears silently flooding my face, not daring even to sob, to make a sound, because it would have made me feel even more disgusted towards myself for my wimpish behavior…

In my mind, I can still see his tongue traveling along the skin of Christoph’s freshly shaved balls.

I stand up.

Till’s there, his thick big arms wrapped around his chest. His hand caressing Christoph’s hip, while he was pounding in his ass.

The snake becomes a raging fire, roaring, deafening me.

I step forward.

Till’s neck is a bit arched, his chin propped in his chest.

The flames are fighting inside me, under my skin, needing more space to expand.

I’m near him. My eyes are stinging – tears getting ready to burst onto my face. Again.

Till’s arms around Christoph’s body, as that whore was giggling and playing with the bath foam. Till’s lowered eyelids, he seems gone for the rest of the world now.

The fire is howling inside me…

“I love you,” I whisper.

Then, I clench my jaws… My left hand pins his head on the window as my right fist bursts from my side, hitting that face. Fuck, I must have broken my fingers!

But no, the fire is too big.

“You, old shit!” I hiss.

My fist hits again!

“You fucking shit!”

And again!

I can’t even feel his hands fighting with my left hand squeezing his throat. I just see those thick snakes waving, like trying to bite my skin.

“Stupid fucking shit!”

And my fist hits again, blood splattering on the window; his foot hitting my leg, but I can’t feel that either, as my fist hits his traitorous face again. And his face feels soft like a sponge; my fist is like digging deeper and deeper with each punch.

I can’t even talk any more, I can’t hear except for this roaring, raging flame howling my pain inside me, until someone’s arms grab my hands from behind, and he drags me backward, to keep me away from Till.

“Just what the fuck got into you Rich?!” Paul snaps at me, while I realize that Olli is holding me, keeping me still, with my hands restrained behind.

“Holy fuck, did you just lose your fucking mind, man?”

I look at all of them, wishing that my glances would burn them all.

They have no fucking idea about my pain! About what that whore did to me!

Flake’s frail body is leaned over Till, trying to wipe the blood off his face, talking in whisper with him, like trying to calm him down.

“Let me go!” I snap at Olli, pulling my hands from his grip. “Stupid fuck!”

I look at the back of my palms, red, with shredded skin on my knuckles, starting to swell and to ache.

“Man, how are you going to play with these hands now?” asks Olli with a lower voice.

But I don’t look at him; my glance rises above Paul’s body, standing right in front of me, as a barrier between me and the place where Till and Flake are sat. Till is sitting, with his chest leaned over his own thighs, pressing a towel on that bleeding face.

I hear Olli opening the fridge. I try to move, and Paul moves along with me, like guarding me with his body. I have to be kept at distance from Till!

“You should keep these temper fits under control, Rich,” says Olli in a gentle tone, as he’s taking my hands between his long thin fingers and as he presses a can of cold beer against my swollen and numb knuckles. “Bashing Till like that, man!” he adds slowly shaking his shaved head.

I look again at all of them. Idiots! Now I’m the bad guy in this!

And in the corner, standing, with his arms folded on his thin straight chest, is the whore who dared to lure my man into his room. He looks straight at me, the corner of his eyebrow is a bit raised, his thin lips, pursed, his eyelids lowered - a perfect picture of disdain - like he was looking at the lowest, most despicable and disgusting life form he could ever see. Yeah, I’m the wacko who can’t hold his temper!

You fucking whore, you’ll pay for all this!

I want to burn his fucking face with the flame inside me; thrown through my glance!

You’ll see; you’ll stay away from him! I’ll show you who’s the tramp!

Not a muscle moves on his face, he wants to seem impenetrable, only his blue eyes are aiming at me, like he’s reading my thoughts.

Then, read this, you fucker, you’ll see what a tramp can do. I’ll make you eat your own words!

You’ll see what defeat tastes like.

To Be Continued
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Wicked Games