The Injured Fawn

Richard ripped out his in-ear monitors and catapulted them across the room in tense agitation. Waves of anger were still rolling off him as he recalled the scenes near the safety barrier towards the end of their second last song of the night.

A young, short girl was clinging on to fencing, looking lost in the music and her face full of glee, as some idiot near her started moshing into her from behind. Not once, which could have been accidental with the big crowd that had packed out the Milton Frank Stadium, but multiple times.
It happened right in front of Richard, possibly the only reason why he had noticed it at all. A couple of people in the vicinity attempted to push the guy further back and a girl built herself up next to the short girl, apparently checking if she was alright but the assailant was seemingly less than impressed with other patrons cutting into his “fun time”.

Going into full battle mode, he sent several well-placed punches and kicks at the men that tried pushing him back into the mouth of the crowd. Richard thought to see the man’s eyes grow dark with rage.
Tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him, he took a few strides towards his vocalist and commanded his attention with a sharp nod of the head, indicating that he wanted to say something.

Wrapping up the song together, Richard leaned closer to the burley man and signaled to his side of the stage.

“Irgendein Arschloch spielt gerade verrückt und hat eine junge Frau mehrfach angegriffen. Mach was.”

Walking back to the position he had left only moments ago and searching the front of the security pit, his eyes narrowed in on the girl; her smooth features now pulled into a mask of discomfort as the female stranger next to her had raised what looked like a balled up shirt to the back of the girl’s head.
He was so transfixed, that he didn’t notice Till come to a stop next to him until the taller man wrapped an arm around his shoulders, gaze caught on the same scene his friend was now watching.
It seemed that some of the security guards had noticed the brawl break out and had climbed the fences, nearing the angry bull of man, who had a mad smile on his face, daring the security guards to step closer to him.

“Ist das Blut auf dem Hemd von dem kleinen Püppchen? Unakzeptabel.”

His arm retreating, Till neared the very edge of the stage and sat down, letting his legs swing freely off the front and watching the scene unfold further.

“Huntsville, while we have had a great time so far and have received nothing but love from all of you, some dick decided to end this show on a bad note and dish out some absolutely unnecessary aggression towards one of your own. Especially a little fawn like this. So please excuse the delay in wrapping this evening up, but I want to make sure that this situation is being brought under control. Cameras?”

Just as he finished his sentence, one of the camera men that had been scurrying around the stage all evening took position next to Till and held his camera straight onto the guy, who suddenly felt all attention was on him.
His face appeared on the large screens on both sides of the stage and the overwhelming majority of the crowd started to boo him as he was trying in vain to fight off the ever-growing throng of security personnel. Richard and Paul stepped closer to Till, as he pointed out the girl in the front, the now bloodied fabric still pressed against the back of her head.

“Now people, while we all know that a little rough love can be very exciting at times between a man and a woman, I dare say that this little fawn did certainly not deserve such a treatment. How about you all give her a hand for being as brave as to hold her own right in front of the stage and capturing Richard’s attention.”

The girl’s face blushed violently and tried to hide it by dropping it to her chest, her frame now appearing supersized on the large screens.
Till’s triumphant smile showed his teeth as the man was finally being overpowered by the group of security guards, manhandling him and pushing him towards the stage to heave him over the fence.

Richard spat towards the assailant when he was being lead away towards the side.

“You’re scum. We don’t need this kind of behavior at our shows or amongst our fans. Respect each other! Now,”

Till jumped up from his position with surprising agility and patted Richard’s shoulder, passing him to walk back towards the middle of the stage,

“How about we ring this evening out with an old favourite of mine!”

Rubbing a towel over his drenched face and hair, he looked up when a bottle appeared in front of him from thin air.

Expecting it to be one of the guys, he stood stunned when his eyes connected to a pair of blue ones, standing much shorter than those of any of his band mates.
It was the girl from earlier, a shy smile playing around her lips, his hand accepting the cold beverage.

“Thanks for being my knight in shining armor out there, though I am sure that all of Alabama will now know my face and refer to me as Fawn.”

The ice broken, he chuckled and wrapped the towel over his right shoulder, checking her over.
She was short, but it seemed like she was certainly making up for that with sass.
How did he not notice that she had been in the room when he came in just mere moments ago? Had she witnessed his outburst of anger? Had she wondered why he’d been standing still for a few moments, retracing the happenings from earlier?
It was him now who felt the heat creep up into his cheeks and he took a quick drink of the beer.

“One of the roadies came to the medics tent a little while ago and told me that I should be coming with him to meet some of the band members who wanted to make sure I was OK. “

She explained as his eyes were yet again lingering on her and she shifted her weight uncomfortably, feeling like an intruder. The dull ache at the back of her skull deepened and her features darkened for a short few second, the delicate fingers of her left hand rose to the small row of stitches the medics had insisted she’d need.

“Let me take a look at that?”

Gently touching her shoulder, he turned her slowly so that he could survey the damage to her head. Allowing his fingers to gently move towards a spot with dried blood in her otherwise dirty blonde hair, he could see her small shoulders square a little as he let a finger slide over the 4 stitches on her scalp. Anger threatened to bubble to the surface again, but he needed to make her relax.

“So, if you’re not going by Till’s latest pet name, what should I call you?”

He moved away to allow her some space. Not wandering off to far, he realized that she herself had no drink in her hand.

“Lyla, very pleased to meet you, Herr Kruspe.”

The corner of his lips twitched up with the way her German pronunciation mixed with her southern drawl: so smooth and almost endearing.

She stuck out her hand for him to shake but he just looked at it as if he didn’t know what to do with it. Instead he moved in and hugged the young woman to his body, making her face disappear into his shirt. His sweat drenched shirt.

“Sorry, let me just…uhm…put on a different shirt.”

He swiftly walked off into a corner of the room, busying himself with one of the many backpacks and small suitcases that were scattered around. Finding what he was looking for, he didn’t even pay a second thought but stripped off his black shirt and threw it in the general direction of the same bag before slipping into a crisp, white one.
Turning his attention back to the woman, he caught her deer-in-the-headlights look and softly shook his head with a smirk: fawn in deed!

“How about a stiff drink, I reckon you deserve a few after gaining that cute battle wound earlier.”

Lyla’s head bopped up and down quickly, hoping to mask her utter shock of him just having changed in front of her like it was nothing. Their eyes met halfway across the room and both stopped for a moment before the sound of laughter filled the room.

“I’m so sorry, but this is just so surreal. Maybe my head took a bigger bump than I thought. Liquor sounds good about now!”

Narrowing his eyes as he was nearing a table with ice buckets and various bottles of beer, vodka, Jägermeister and tequila.

“Sorry to ask this, but are you old enough to be drinking?”

The tone of voice suggested that he was joking, but she feigned shock anyways and pushed her hands into her hips.

“I may not be as ancient as you and your friends, but I turned legal drinking age over a decade ago thank you very much! Vodka will do fine.”

Sticking out her tongue in jest, he felt a pang of guilt when he did the math: she was only a couple of years younger than Till’s oldest daughter. Not that she looked it, due to her small frame making her appear that much younger, but her making the spiel on his own age compared to hers made him quickly grab the bottle and one of the plastic cups that catering had provided.

Noticing the change in him, Lyla rolled her eyes and moved to stand next to him, her hip jutting out slightly to hip check him and successfully managing to have him spill some of the alcohol he was pouring.
Looking down at his now wet hand, he narrowed his eyes at her blue ones again.

“You know, wasting alcohol is a deadly sin in Germany?”

Her next actions happened so fast, he lost track of what exactly was going on: both her hands shot out to grasp his alcohol-coated left, raising it to her lips and slipping one of his fingers into her mouth, sucking the liquid off his skin. Repeating this another 4 times before allowing the tip of her tongue to collect the last few drops off her lips. He could feel a stirring in his loin region. She dropped his hand back to his side before grabbing the plastic cup and smiling up at him brightly.

“There: no more spillage. Does that earn me absolution from Germany?”

Fuck!

Reaching out without thinking, he hauled her closer and leaned down to fuse his lips against hers. He could feel surprise taking over her body and it showed as her shoulders squared up for the 2nd time since he had made her acquaintance. But the second her body relaxed and responded to his exploring lips, his arms circled her waist and lifted her up until her sleek legs wrapped around him, bringing their faces to a much favorable position.
The way he was holding her, allowed her denim-clad crotch to rest just above his groin, ever so delicately pushing into him. This was certainly not helping his current situation: he needed that cup from her hand gone!

Detaching from her lips, he grabbed the cup from her hand and took a large gulp before placing it to her own lips and feeding her the rest.
Watching a thin trail of it run down the side of her neck and disappear into the neckline of her top, he threw the cup to the ground with a deep growl and maneuvered them towards one of the lush seats in the far corner of the room.

Sitting down carefully, his arms rose from their position and his hands anchored themselves into her long tresses with a strong hold, his tongue tracing the path the vodka had travelled moments ago.
Hearing her breath hitch as his mouth closed over her collarbone, he began to gently suck and nibble on the smooth skin more vigorous when the small mewling sounds she made met his ears. Her hips had developed a mind of their own, grinding against his whenever his breath hit a trail of the wet path his lips and tongue were drawing over her skin.

There was no point trying to deny the effect this young woman had on him, his heart was beating wildly in his chest, pushing spurt after spurt of blood into his loins, making the little space he had in his pants decrease with every breath he was able to pull.
Pulling his lips from hers, he threw his head back and shut his eyes tightly, blood rushing through his ears. As soon as she had a little space, he could feel her hands on the bottom of his shirt. Opening his eyes, he stared straight into hers; she was biting her lower lip but not breaking eye contact. It took mere seconds before the fabric of his shirt met the carpeted floor and her eyes were roaming the muscular expanse of his torso, appreciating just how well built the older man was.

Feeling his body come to life again, Lyla could feel his hands over hers.

“Do you trust me, Kleine?”

Meeting his smoldering eyes, Lyla couldn’t do anything else but give a small nod in confirmation. Not even a second ticked by before he lifted her hands and let them come to rest on his belt buckle. Even though there was the thick layer of his pants between them, feeling the combined weight of their hands made his dick pulse dangerously in its confines.
Raising his left hand to push some of her long hair behind her shoulder, he looked at her gorgeous face, her eyes remaining trained on his crotch as her fingers almost nimbly started to unbuckle the first of a multitude of belts. A flurry of emotions was washing over her face watching the buckle fall heavily to one side, the leather end she had just freed still in her hand.
Spreading his fingers across the nape of her neck, he pulled her closer and crashed his lips against hers again in an attempt to banish the last remaining grain of apprehension her body still held.

No sooner had she begun to pop open the buttons of his pants when his thought his ears were picking up on the door being opened. Without the usual noise level that would follow if his friends had entered the room, Richards chanced a look over Lyla’s shoulder; Till’s imposing frame stood frozen in mid movement on the threshold, a look of confusion mixed with interest ghosting across his face.

Lyla continued unbuttoning his pants. It was safe to think she had neither heard the door, nor the soft steps of the other man as he shut and silently locked the door behind him.
Resting his broad back against the wall next to the door, he shoved his large hands into the pockets of his favourite pair of stage pants. Till’s eyes were that of a predator; focusing on the back of the young woman currently nestled in Richard’s lap.
His tongue shot out in a subconscious manner, wetting his dry lips as his friend’s eyes silently signaled him to remain quiet as to not spook the girl. Nodding in understanding, Till remained where he was, hearing the distinct clink of a plethora of belt buckles and his lips pulled into a wolfish smile.

Knowing that his friend would only remain silent for so long, Richard moved his eyes back to Lyla’s face in an attempt to make eye contact, just as a couple of her fingers hooked themselves into the elastic of his underwear.

“Now, don’t be scared Lyla, but it seems we have gained a small audience.”

Her hooded eyes shot up to his before her head whipped to the side to look over her shoulder, catching Till raise a hand in an almost sheepish greeting before pushing himself off the wall and wandering over to the table with the beverages. Zooming in at the open vodka bottle and the discarded plastic cup on the floor, he chuckled and quickly grabbed a few more cups and filled them with some of the clear liquid before migrating towards the couple he had so rudely interrupted just moments ago.

“Sorry Puppe, but it seems that someone forgot to lock the door before things in here got out of hand. Please, don’t let me interrupt this…Vorspiel. Unless you’d rather have me leave of course?”