(no subject)
_>.
Feedback: Yesh. Plz. Tell me what i am doing wrong!
“I’m a whore...and I’m feeling sorry for myself. In your arms, I am drowning like the child I was.”
“I need more. Can you help me feed my sin?”
Dero knew about sin. Sin was that thick honey, sweet with promises that were lies, that was dripped along his flesh, heightening his need for that other man. Blue eyes stared up into his own chocolate ones. When had this begun?
He’d never once seen the man as attractive enough to bring into his bed. Perhaps the vain side of the singer had taken over, craving the man’s far superior popularity to his own, despite his content with it.
This man had America, and Dero wanted it too, enough to whore himself for it. A couple gasps left his lips as that tongue circled the engorged head of his shaft, causing trembles to rip up his spine, tangling in his brain. Mewling, the younger of the two twisted beneath the elder, tugging on his shoulder’s briefly, as the other man brought his mouth back to Dero’s.
Large hands spread and lifted Dero’s legs up, and within a couple motions and moments, Dero was impaled fully on the other man, clawing at the bed then moving his hands to claw at his flesh. Feeling the other’s larger body move against his own, caused a cacophony oh cries and moans to escape from Dero’s kiss-bruised lips, as he clung onto him.
“I’m a whore...” The song lyric passed through his brain once more, as he was lifted off his back, straddling the other man’s lap, riding him forcefully pleasure stabbing through him. A name spilled from Dero’s lips, and the man pounded harder upwards into him until Dero came hot onto his stomach, then arched his back as he felt that liquid heat shoot inside of him.
As they collapsed onto the bed, Dero laid there with the man on top of him, between his legs, and inside of him, and slowly fantasized about overshadowing this man once again. This time...in America.
Till Lindemann, 41 years old, lifted his head up and kissed Dero passionately, sliding his fingers along his jaw, before moving away from him, and redressing...staring at the hazy eyed, naked sweaty figure on the bed, he had to look away once more before he lost control and took him once more. He headed for the door, brushing his clothes down a bit...
“Ich sehe Sie nach dem Konzert?” He asked softly, biting his lower lip almost nervous for the expected answer.
"Ja, ich werde hier sein und wie immer auf dich warten." Dero said softly, slowly sitting up to pull his clothes on. Till nodded, watching him a moment longer, before tearing away his gaze, and heading out.
((Translation : Till : I will see you after the concert? Dero : Yes, I will be here. Waiting for you, as always, Till. (Forgive me if it’s wrong, i used an online translator because I was in a hurry.) ))
Feedback: Yesh. Plz. Tell me what i am doing wrong!
“I’m a whore...and I’m feeling sorry for myself. In your arms, I am drowning like the child I was.”
“I need more. Can you help me feed my sin?”
Dero knew about sin. Sin was that thick honey, sweet with promises that were lies, that was dripped along his flesh, heightening his need for that other man. Blue eyes stared up into his own chocolate ones. When had this begun?
He’d never once seen the man as attractive enough to bring into his bed. Perhaps the vain side of the singer had taken over, craving the man’s far superior popularity to his own, despite his content with it.
This man had America, and Dero wanted it too, enough to whore himself for it. A couple gasps left his lips as that tongue circled the engorged head of his shaft, causing trembles to rip up his spine, tangling in his brain. Mewling, the younger of the two twisted beneath the elder, tugging on his shoulder’s briefly, as the other man brought his mouth back to Dero’s.
Large hands spread and lifted Dero’s legs up, and within a couple motions and moments, Dero was impaled fully on the other man, clawing at the bed then moving his hands to claw at his flesh. Feeling the other’s larger body move against his own, caused a cacophony oh cries and moans to escape from Dero’s kiss-bruised lips, as he clung onto him.
“I’m a whore...” The song lyric passed through his brain once more, as he was lifted off his back, straddling the other man’s lap, riding him forcefully pleasure stabbing through him. A name spilled from Dero’s lips, and the man pounded harder upwards into him until Dero came hot onto his stomach, then arched his back as he felt that liquid heat shoot inside of him.
As they collapsed onto the bed, Dero laid there with the man on top of him, between his legs, and inside of him, and slowly fantasized about overshadowing this man once again. This time...in America.
Till Lindemann, 41 years old, lifted his head up and kissed Dero passionately, sliding his fingers along his jaw, before moving away from him, and redressing...staring at the hazy eyed, naked sweaty figure on the bed, he had to look away once more before he lost control and took him once more. He headed for the door, brushing his clothes down a bit...
“Ich sehe Sie nach dem Konzert?” He asked softly, biting his lower lip almost nervous for the expected answer.
"Ja, ich werde hier sein und wie immer auf dich warten." Dero said softly, slowly sitting up to pull his clothes on. Till nodded, watching him a moment longer, before tearing away his gaze, and heading out.
((Translation : Till : I will see you after the concert? Dero : Yes, I will be here. Waiting for you, as always, Till. (Forgive me if it’s wrong, i used an online translator because I was in a hurry.) ))