Ohne Dich

John sucked in a sharp breath, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he felt Ginger’s lips trail down his neck. He sucked at the soft skin slowly, yearning a small moan from the guitarist as he pulled at the restraints holding at his wrists limiting him from moving. He quickly felt a hand slide down his underwear, brushing against his already hardening length ever so lightly, but John still bucked up quickly, desperately whimpering.

“Please, Ginger.” He looked down at his lover with hooded eyes, a smirk just forming on the older mans face as he crawled back the bed, leaning on his forearms as his hair fell into his eyes.

“Please, what?” He dipped his head down, his lips only lightly brushing against the others as he pulled at his bottom lip, the younger man shuddering below him as he trailed his lips up to his ear. He nibbled on his ear, his teeth pulling at the skin as John pulled against his restraints harshly.

“You want me to fuck you, John?” Ginger murmured by his ear, sending a small shiver up his spine. “Fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for days and so my name will be the only thing on your mind for…” he paused, his hand dipping between them both to feel his hardening cock. “Days.”

“Anything,” John gasped loudly, his head thrown back as he felt Ginger’s fingers press down on the tip. “I just need to feel you.”

He whimpered desperately as Ginger pushed off of him, but it soon changed to that familiar knot in his stomach as he heard his jeans dropping to the floor of the hotel room. No matter how many times they would fuck around, he would always feel that familiar twist in his stomach with Ginger.

It seemed rough sex could bring a whole new range of emotions to the guitarist.

His thoughts soon were replaced with a gasp of pleasure as he felt Ginger push into him roughly, the guitarist gripping his pale hips as he pushed himself in completely, relishing in the feeling of John around him. For the moment, all he could think about was Ginger. How he felt inside of him, how his hands felt gripping him so tight, and how his moans of pleasure could turn him on more than anything.

Both the men cried out as Ginger slammed into him again, this time picking up the pace with each thrust. He could feel his hips bruising, but he was far too involved with the other man to even care about how his body would end up at the end of it all.

Each thrust, matching each beat of the song drowning out their moans to the rest of the hotel.

”Rein.”

Thrust.
”Raus.”

Out.

Soon he had John crying out, hitting his spot over and over again as his pale legs were hooked over his shoulders, using whatever breathe he had left to whisper out a mantra of “Fuck me!” “Harder!” And “Right there!”

Ginger continued to pound the younger man into the mattress as he began to feel that familiar feeling curling in his loins as John’s hips bucked up to meet every thrust, somehow getting deeper inside of him each time.

“Touch me, Ginger.” John’s plea was desperate and drawn out, cut out as Ginger sharply angled his thrusts as an even louder moan escaped his lips. “Goddamn it, just touch me.”

Caught in the moment, he forgot how to even form a response, his hand simply reaching down in between them both to brush over his hard length. All it needed was a few movements and John shuddered, crying out Ginger’s name over and over as his eyes squeezed shut. The sight of John in pure ecstasy threw his lover over the edge, as it never failed too, letting go with a loud cry himself with John’s name on his tongue. His thrusts became sloppy and disorganized, but riding it out never the less until both men were spent.

Ginger languidly reached up over John, untying his wrists before falling down beside him. Both the men’s breathing was uneven and ragged as a low breath escaped John. He turned to his side, laying his head on the drummer’s chest as he ran his fingers through his blonde hair slowly.

“I love you,” he murmured, running his lips over his forehead. “Till the day I die.”



John watched quietly as his wife lead his children away, ushering them into the car before taking one last look at her husband with a terrible sense of pity. The noise of the tires on the gravel gradually grew quieter and quieter until the only sound filling the air was the cry of a lone crow.

The quiet cemetery now seemed so much more alone.

He moved closer to the gravestone, the words freshly engraved into the stone as he stared down with empty eyes. Bearing the name of one he once called his best friend.

His ex-band band mate.

And the only person he ever loved.

“You once told me that you’d love me till the day you died. I don’t even know if you meant that, I wouldn’t blame you if you stopped. I did leave you afterall.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists by his sides, blinking feebly to hold back the tears he’d been trying to keep contained for weeks.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you Ginger.”

“There were times I missed you. Well no, there weren’t just the odd times. It was all the time. I just missed knowing you were in the same house, or the promise that I would see you in a few hours, or days. And I was left not knowing if I’d ever even see you again.”

He took in a deep breath, looking down at the fresh dirt under his feet as he felt a light rain begin to fall.

“I used to wake up in the night calling your name, you know. It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? But I’d always feel an empty place next to me. You know I had my nightmares, you were the only one to help…Piggy tried, but he could never be you.”

He crouched down on the dirt, facing the gravestone with empty eyes as he felt that familiar pain stab at his chest.

“Do you remember the firs time we met? At the audition in that shitty little back street room in New Orleans? Sure as hell I remember what we did that day…”

A small laugh escaped his lips at the memory, a sound he wasn’t used to hearing after so long. It felt strange. Foreign almost coming from his lips.

“I will always remember every little experience we had together, they make me happier than anything. Remember that night in the LA hotel room? That sex driven Rammstein song in the background, first time we’d tried anything different. It was nice.”

He felt the tears fall down his face slowly, falling onto the dirt as his head rested on his hands as he let every little memory he’d been trying to black out seep back into his mind. It liking opening a tap, everything just came rushing back.

Every touch, the feel of his lips on his skin, how his lips could make him feel things he didn’t know was possible, how their hands fit together so perfectly, how his arms felt wrapped around him. How his voice could go from saying the filthiest most erotic things a man would ever hear, to reassuring him he would never leave his side.

He didn’t just miss Ginger. Ginger was missing from him. He had taken a huge part of him, and it was a part he could never, ever get back.

Death was final. Leaving the band was not.

“Let me tell you something,” his voice was shaky, looking at the empty stone with his eyes brimming with tears. “You were the only person I ever loved, never mind if I have a wife, kids, it was always you. She knows, she always knew. I just wish I would have admitted it to myself before it was too late.”

He turned his head to the side, trying to bite back anything more that would slip out of him, taking slow breaths to try and calm himself.

He reached out his hand, warm on the cold, wet marble.

“I was so alone, Ginger. And I owe you so much. You always had my heart, and now it has died along with you.”

He knelt down, pulling out of his pocket a small photo of both the men. Ginger’s arm was draped casually around the guitarists shoulder as he smiled up at the camera, so much happiness in his eyes.

He would do anything to be back.

Straightening himself up, he brushed the dirt of his suit pants, looking down at the gravestone one last time.



His name seemed so foreign carved in gold letters in the marble, but that was the closest he would ever get to him again.

“I am so sorry.”

Turning away, he set the photo by the stone, and made his way back to the path, his shoes crunching on the gravel as he saw Piggy at the top of the bath, offering him a soft smile.

Without him, he was alone.

Without him, time would always stay in stone.

Without him, the seconds weren’t worth it.