The announcement was greeted with silence. Flake, who considered himself a good boy even under the most unfortunate circumstances, patiently waited for a full minute before clearing his throat. More silence, and then the rustling of pages. Was Till reading?
Slowly, in what would have been a near perfect sight gag, Flake’s head crested the foot of the bed. Bleached out hair first, then a pair of wide, slightly nervous eyes. Till was indeed reading, and not even porn. It looked like an actual book. Flake, insulted, slunk back down to curl at the foot of the bed. This wasn’t his idea of fun.
“Till?” No answer. “Till?” Flake’s head popped up, chin resting against the baseboard of their bed. “Tiiiiiiill?” He was being deliberately ignored. There was no possible way Till hadn’t heard him. Just in case, though, he tried shouting. “TILL!”
Till simply turned another page, no flicker of emotion showing on his face. He looked sad, Flake reflected, but then… he always did. The default expression of Till’s face seemed to be a sort of quiet, weary sorrow. Flake often wondered where he’d gotten it from.
Till licked the tip of his finger and idly turned the page again. Flake began to wonder if he was actually reading or if he was simply putting on a show. It seemed silly. There was no way either of them could get off on Till perusing a novel while Flake was chained to the foot of the bed. Flake had heard of plenty of weird kinks in his time, but never that one.
Sighing, he tested the chain around his neck. It was just long enough for him to rise up on his knees, so no crawling into bed. Stupid Till, he’d probably planned it like this. He couldn’t just have said, “No, Christian, I would like to read today”. That would have been fine!
“Till!” One of Flake’s long hands darted up, slapping Till soundly on the calf. As soon as his hand connected, he ducked again, fearing an instant reprisal, but all he heard was the sound of a page turning. With a little huff, he popped back up and glared at Till. “This game is boring. I’m safe-wording out.”
Flip.
“Till? Did you hear me?” Flip, flip, flip. He knew now for sure that Till was faking. “You’re not reading at all!” The outraged indignation in his voice won a smile from Till, and he raised his eyes slightly.
“You don’t like my new game?” he purred, setting the book aside. Flake shook his head and pouted, and Till shifted to rest on his stomach, blunt fingers carding gently through Flake’s hair. “I thought it was a good game. You’re angry with me now, aren’t you?”
Flake nodded hesitantly. He knew how Till could be. This might very well be a trap. But the kind light stayed in Till’s eyes, and he even gave Flake’s long hair an affectionate tug. Flake decided to venture a question.
“Was that the game? To make me angry?”
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Till shrugged. Flake drew himself up, stopping only when the chain clinked and jerked him back down.
“Cute? You think I’m cute!?” Till, in answer, cooed and tugged at Flake’s hair. Infuriating! The man was simply infuriating! Of all the bandmates he could have slept with, Flake had to pick the most blatantly evil one! “That’s it. I’m leaving. I hate you.”
“You can’t leave,” Till pointed out reasonably. “You’re chained to the bed.” Flake paused for a moment, forced to acknowledge the veracity of Till’s statement. He was, in fact, chained to the bed. And Till had the key.
“Well, you’ll just have to let me go,” he said loftily, folding his arms across his skinny chest. Till just grinned. “You can’t keep me here! I’ll call the police!”
“You can’t reach the phone. You’re chained to the bed.”
“TILL LINDEMANN!”
Sniggering, Till twisted around and dug a camera out from under one of the pillows, snapping a quick photo of Flake’s enraged face. Flake was entirely unsure what to make of that, and for a moment, he just knelt there, mouth open in fury.
“Close your mouth,” Till advised, winding the camera calmly. “You’ll catch flies.”
“I’ll kill you!”
“You can’t kill me. You’re—“
“Chained to the bed, I know!” Flake was growing completely exasperated with this line of conversation. He just wanted to get up, put on his clothes, and go out for coffee. With a sane person.
“That isn’t what I was going to say.” Flake started at the dark purr in Till’s voice and slowly turned his eyes to his lover. Till was crouched on the bed like a hunting cat, a wicked little smile on his face. Oooohhh. So that’s what they were playing…
Flake whimpered and ducked down, suddenly afraid again. The mattress creaked and he glanced up. Till was peering over the foot of the bed, smug and powerful. “Christian… I think you should sit up now.”
Flake sat up immediately, biting at his thin lips and writhing. He was going to be punished for being a wicked boy. He understood now that Till had been provoking him into losing his temper. Then again, looking at the glint of boyish mischief in Till’s eyes, he wasn’t certain that this was all premeditated. It was entirely possible that Till had just decided to be an ass.
“I’m sorry I shouted at you, Till,” he said, eyes cast down. Best to be humble, just in case. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes you did.” Flake was getting very tired of Till’s smug attitude, but now that they were actively in their respective roles, he didn’t dare say anything. “In fact… I think I’m going to punish you.”
Oh hell. That was hardly fair, since Till had instigated the entire thing, but Flake knew how these things worked. Till just loved having an excuse to do horrible things to him, and Flake kind of loved giving him an excuse. The singer shifted on the bed, draping his legs down and unceremoniously unzipping his worn jeans.
“This is my punishment?” Flake asked doubtfully. Till shrugged and patted him on the head.
“Honestly? I feel lazy today.” Flake started to scowl and Till booted him hard in the ribs. He wheezed and clutched his side, a little thrill rushing through him. Till never pulled his blows, a fact which Flake had come first to appreciate, then to adore. “Now are you going to be a good boy and do as you’re told, or am I going to have to go visit Christoph?”
“Christoph?”
Till’s fingers tightened in Flake’s hair, forcing his face down, and Flake didn’t try to resist. He knew better than that, but still. He was outraged at the mention of the drummer and, if he was being honest with himself, disgustingly jealous. His long fingers curled around the base of Till’s prick, squeezing gently, and he looked up accusingly.
“You’ve fucked Christoph before?” Till rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at his cock. Flake knew he wouldn’t get an answer out of Till, not yet anyway, so he did as he’d been instructed. His thin lips curved around the flared head of Till’s prick and he sucked gently, tongue flicking and gathering precome.
Till groaned, canting his hips up, and Flake tried to let himself enjoy what he was doing. Usually, he loved to suck Till, begged to be allowed to do it. Now, all he could think about was Christoph. Christoph, of all people! The thought of his lips on Till’s shaft made Flake gag and he started to pull back. A warning growl from Till stopped him, and he shifted forward again grudgingly.
If he stopped thinking about it, let the rhythm draw him in… There was an art to sucking Till off, one that Flake had mastered months ago. Sometimes he liked to switch things up, surprise Till, find new ways to make him moan. Right now, though, he was in no mood. Till, naturally, noticed.
“You’re not doing a very good job,” he accused, and Flake sat back, pursing his lips.
“I’m not the one who brought up Christoph.” Till started to roll his eyes and Flake rattled the chain around his neck indignantly. “Don’t make that face! You know how I hate that!”
“What, when I talk about fucking Christoph?”
“YES!”
“You know I never have.” And, looking up at Till’s face, Flake believed him. There was a contrite gleam in his eyes, and his broad shoulders shrugged a little. “I was only teasing you. You shouldn’t take everything so seriously, Christian.”
“Till…”
“I know.” Till sighed and looked down, grimacing at his fading erection. “We’re not getting anywhere today, are we?” Flake shook his head mutely. “Should I take you out for dinner instead?” A nod.
The chain rattled to the floor, and Till helped Flake to his feet, handing him his clothes with an air of ashamed sorrow. As soon as the last button was buttoned, Flake nestled close against Till’s warm chest and sighed. There was a moment’s hesitation, then Till’s arms circled Flake’s skinny body.
“I am sorry…”
“I know, Till.” He leaned up, pressing his lips to Till’s in a gentle, searching kiss. It was better than any amount of sex would have been, and Till was smiling when Flake leaned back. “Dinner?”
“Dinner,” Till confirmed, draping a heavy arm over Flake’s shoulders. There was a pregnant pause, and Flake sighed.
“Say it.”
“So I should call Christoph and tell him not to bring over the hot wax and cream cheese later, then?”
“TILL!” Silence. More silence. “…cream cheese?” But Till would only laugh and shake his head and tell Flake that he loved him.
