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FIC - Alles was zählt (Deniz/Roman)
Title: Fuck the Pain Away
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
amo_amas_amat
Fandom (pairing): Alles was zählt (Deniz/Roman)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1678
Summary: "Fuck me everywhere." (Potentially a slight exaggeration. Don't sue).
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTL who uses them to torture fangirls.
Warnings: Reference to THAT THING THAT HAPPENS while we're off on the HMS Denial. Sorry.
Author's note: Thanks tolilithilien who suffered humiliation on public transport to check this over. Danke schatz
“Among black branches, oyster-coloured fog tongues every corner of loneliness we never knew before we were loved there, the places left fallow when we’re born, waiting for experience to find its way into us. ...
“In your hands, all you’ve lost, all you’ve touched. In the angle of your head, every vow and broken vow. In your skin, every time you were disregarded, every time you were received...
“Try to keep everything and keep standing. In the tall grass, ten thousand shadows. What’s past, all you’ve been, will continue its half-life, a carbon burn searing its way to heaven through the twisted core of a pine...
“At night, memory will roam your skin. Your dreams will reveal the squirming world under the lifted stone. While you sleep, the sea floods your house, you wake to silt, long brown weeds tangled in the sheets. You wake in the bog, caked with the froth of peat, stunted as shore pine, growing a metre a century.”
Anne Michaels – Last Night’s Moon
I’d found you crying on the floor in the kitchen. It was in the days when the kitchen had stopped being yours alone, before it became mine - the blessing of it being just ‘the’ kitchen seems important sometimes. I never even asked you what had made you cry. Why would I? It was all just different flavours of the same pain by then. Instead I crouched down opposite you and leaned my head into your shoulder, nudging into the corner of your neck. I didn’t think about anything as I waited there, fitting myself into you as if I could make you forget I was a separate person.
We’d talked so much by then I’d forgotten how to make words mean the things I wanted them to – if I’d ever known that in the first place. I’d just spent all day at the bar responding to people’s idle chit-chat but I wouldn’t have been able to tell you the details of one single conversation. The only conversation I’d had was with you, in my head all day, the words going back and forth, arguing, pleading, promising, reassuring and arguing again. So I buried my head in your neck and held still, collecting your tears on my cheek.
Eventually you’d turned to me with a question in your eyes so fierce and so desperate I already knew I would say yes before I knew what it would cost me.
“Fuck me,” you said, your voice hollow next to my ear, “Fuck me everywhere.” I could see your mind spinning, scheming so you couldn’t be wiped away and I didn’t know how to tell you that you were already everywhere and that you were being insane because I didn’t need us to have sex in a place for me to think about you when I went there. The fact that we’d already done it in most viable places didn’t seem to enter into your thinking or that when you got down to it our lives were quite small; the same few people and the same few places, all quietly significant and already teeming with memories. I couldn’t say to you I didn’t think I could handle many more, that I didn’t know where I was supposed to go to not see you, to not be reminded. There isn’t a place in my life anymore where you don’t fit. And there I was thinking again so I kissed you. The pain will come later I thought. I still have this for now.
You took me to the centre and I wondered if you’d forgotten everything we ever did but you grinned and took me up in the lift to Axel’s office and laid me out on the desk and kissed every inch of my body in the most methodical way possible so I wondered if you were actually channeling Dr Steinkamp-Schwartz while performing sex acts on me. I considered being offended but your fingers danced all over my skin which tingled with every scrape of nail and wisp of knuckle. And all the while you instructed me in the most effective ways to wind up the dear doctor, which made me laugh silently into the darkness, my stomach shaking as I held the sound in, your smile pressing into my skin. I think you knew the cameras were there.
Afterward you took me to the training room and told me to show you my shapes. I stood before you like you were my trainer and I was your athlete and you told me Jenny used to do it like this but Isabelle does it like that. I had no idea what move you even meant but I let you talk until you started reminiscing about what Mike would have said if you’d been holding your arms out like I was. Then I knew you were getting morose so I kissed you again and pulled your shirt over your head in one swoop. I kissed all the way down your body until you were groaning over and over and it was only my name on your lips.
We showered for old times’ sake.
You had your arm around me as we walked through the park and I wanted to say sorry one more time for running away that day Bulle attacked but you looked at me as if to say you didn’t need me to apologise and all I do is apologise and that of all the things this was the least of them. You looked at me with eyes that said I love you anyway. So I held it back and suddenly I felt nothing but joy because that was so long ago and I was so scared of all the wrong things but we still made it despite everything I did. Suddenly I felt like we won, so I scooped you up by the legs and twisted you round while you shouted at me through your surprise and laughter. I released you and you slid down my body grinning madly. You said something like, “This is the kind of dizzy I can cope with.” And just like that I was kissing you like my life depended on it, like it could save yours. It felt like I couldn’t stop but you put your hand on my chest finally and pushed away and told me you’d like to keep breathing for the time being. I could have hit you but instead I put my head in your neck again and clung on tightly and hoped your skin could absorb my sobs.
You wiped my tears away – how many times by then – and you chivvied me up telling me we had another stop to make. You looked so young and naughty and knowing as you said, “There’s no one at the flatshare. I have it on good authority.” So we went there and you made me slide down the banister just to make sure I could do it and then you drew us a bath and fetched towels and bubble bath, remembering where everything was even though you hadn’t lived there for years. You had me sit between your legs while you rubbed soap wherever you could reach and it felt so comforting I probably could have cried all over again except my hard-on was distracting me so much. You whispered in my ear, “It’s okay if you touch yourself.” So I stroked myself while your hands went everywhere else, smooth caresses I still sometimes imagine when I sit in the bath alone, and I felt you hard against my back but you didn’t move except your hands. I came with my head thrown back onto your shoulder and you kissed me sloppily from the side and I remembered how I used to hate getting soap in my mouth when I was little. I could eat whole bars of it now just to taste that kiss again.
We sat wrapped in our towels on the couch and you showed me where Ingo keeps his porn, where Annette keeps hers and where they keep ‘their’ porn. We ate Annette’s ice cream and you informed me meaningfully that this was her favourite kind which actually I already knew but I still nodded sombrely. Then you told me that if Annette calls in the middle of the night I should always pick up the phone but if Ingo calls it is extremely important not to unless I’m prepared for drunken, high-pitched singing and/or declarations of manly love.
We passed the fry stand on the way home. It was the early hours of the morning and there was a bit of cold light dawning but you still pushed me up against the locked door at the side and kissed me hard. You said that if we had been kids together we would have broken in at night to make out. You accused me of making bad jokes about spicy sausages in this past life you’d concocted but we both knew it would have been you making those jokes. In both lives I shut you up with more kisses.
We got home finally and I flung myself onto the bed. I’m not ashamed to say you’d worn me out. You lay down next to me but your eyes were on the wall - trying to bore a hole through it. “Tell me,” I said, and I meant, “Ask me.”
“I want him to have my share. What I’ve paid so far in the rent. I want him to have my part in the flat in case he wants to stay.”
I nodded because you knew the answer was yes but I knew you had to ask because sometimes it is just about getting the words out. Then I wrapped my arms around you and pressed my forehead into the back of your neck and tried to feel how real you were and not think about anything else except how tired I was and how I would wake up and you would still be there.
Author:
amo_amas_amatFandom (pairing): Alles was zählt (Deniz/Roman)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1678
Summary: "Fuck me everywhere." (Potentially a slight exaggeration. Don't sue).
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTL who uses them to torture fangirls.
Warnings: Reference to THAT THING THAT HAPPENS while we're off on the HMS Denial. Sorry.
Author's note: Thanks to
lilithilien who suffered humiliation on public transport to check this over. Danke schatz“Among black branches, oyster-coloured fog tongues every corner of loneliness we never knew before we were loved there, the places left fallow when we’re born, waiting for experience to find its way into us. ...
“In your hands, all you’ve lost, all you’ve touched. In the angle of your head, every vow and broken vow. In your skin, every time you were disregarded, every time you were received...
“Try to keep everything and keep standing. In the tall grass, ten thousand shadows. What’s past, all you’ve been, will continue its half-life, a carbon burn searing its way to heaven through the twisted core of a pine...
“At night, memory will roam your skin. Your dreams will reveal the squirming world under the lifted stone. While you sleep, the sea floods your house, you wake to silt, long brown weeds tangled in the sheets. You wake in the bog, caked with the froth of peat, stunted as shore pine, growing a metre a century.”
Anne Michaels – Last Night’s Moon
I’d found you crying on the floor in the kitchen. It was in the days when the kitchen had stopped being yours alone, before it became mine - the blessing of it being just ‘the’ kitchen seems important sometimes. I never even asked you what had made you cry. Why would I? It was all just different flavours of the same pain by then. Instead I crouched down opposite you and leaned my head into your shoulder, nudging into the corner of your neck. I didn’t think about anything as I waited there, fitting myself into you as if I could make you forget I was a separate person.
We’d talked so much by then I’d forgotten how to make words mean the things I wanted them to – if I’d ever known that in the first place. I’d just spent all day at the bar responding to people’s idle chit-chat but I wouldn’t have been able to tell you the details of one single conversation. The only conversation I’d had was with you, in my head all day, the words going back and forth, arguing, pleading, promising, reassuring and arguing again. So I buried my head in your neck and held still, collecting your tears on my cheek.
Eventually you’d turned to me with a question in your eyes so fierce and so desperate I already knew I would say yes before I knew what it would cost me.
“Fuck me,” you said, your voice hollow next to my ear, “Fuck me everywhere.” I could see your mind spinning, scheming so you couldn’t be wiped away and I didn’t know how to tell you that you were already everywhere and that you were being insane because I didn’t need us to have sex in a place for me to think about you when I went there. The fact that we’d already done it in most viable places didn’t seem to enter into your thinking or that when you got down to it our lives were quite small; the same few people and the same few places, all quietly significant and already teeming with memories. I couldn’t say to you I didn’t think I could handle many more, that I didn’t know where I was supposed to go to not see you, to not be reminded. There isn’t a place in my life anymore where you don’t fit. And there I was thinking again so I kissed you. The pain will come later I thought. I still have this for now.
You took me to the centre and I wondered if you’d forgotten everything we ever did but you grinned and took me up in the lift to Axel’s office and laid me out on the desk and kissed every inch of my body in the most methodical way possible so I wondered if you were actually channeling Dr Steinkamp-Schwartz while performing sex acts on me. I considered being offended but your fingers danced all over my skin which tingled with every scrape of nail and wisp of knuckle. And all the while you instructed me in the most effective ways to wind up the dear doctor, which made me laugh silently into the darkness, my stomach shaking as I held the sound in, your smile pressing into my skin. I think you knew the cameras were there.
Afterward you took me to the training room and told me to show you my shapes. I stood before you like you were my trainer and I was your athlete and you told me Jenny used to do it like this but Isabelle does it like that. I had no idea what move you even meant but I let you talk until you started reminiscing about what Mike would have said if you’d been holding your arms out like I was. Then I knew you were getting morose so I kissed you again and pulled your shirt over your head in one swoop. I kissed all the way down your body until you were groaning over and over and it was only my name on your lips.
We showered for old times’ sake.
You had your arm around me as we walked through the park and I wanted to say sorry one more time for running away that day Bulle attacked but you looked at me as if to say you didn’t need me to apologise and all I do is apologise and that of all the things this was the least of them. You looked at me with eyes that said I love you anyway. So I held it back and suddenly I felt nothing but joy because that was so long ago and I was so scared of all the wrong things but we still made it despite everything I did. Suddenly I felt like we won, so I scooped you up by the legs and twisted you round while you shouted at me through your surprise and laughter. I released you and you slid down my body grinning madly. You said something like, “This is the kind of dizzy I can cope with.” And just like that I was kissing you like my life depended on it, like it could save yours. It felt like I couldn’t stop but you put your hand on my chest finally and pushed away and told me you’d like to keep breathing for the time being. I could have hit you but instead I put my head in your neck again and clung on tightly and hoped your skin could absorb my sobs.
You wiped my tears away – how many times by then – and you chivvied me up telling me we had another stop to make. You looked so young and naughty and knowing as you said, “There’s no one at the flatshare. I have it on good authority.” So we went there and you made me slide down the banister just to make sure I could do it and then you drew us a bath and fetched towels and bubble bath, remembering where everything was even though you hadn’t lived there for years. You had me sit between your legs while you rubbed soap wherever you could reach and it felt so comforting I probably could have cried all over again except my hard-on was distracting me so much. You whispered in my ear, “It’s okay if you touch yourself.” So I stroked myself while your hands went everywhere else, smooth caresses I still sometimes imagine when I sit in the bath alone, and I felt you hard against my back but you didn’t move except your hands. I came with my head thrown back onto your shoulder and you kissed me sloppily from the side and I remembered how I used to hate getting soap in my mouth when I was little. I could eat whole bars of it now just to taste that kiss again.
We sat wrapped in our towels on the couch and you showed me where Ingo keeps his porn, where Annette keeps hers and where they keep ‘their’ porn. We ate Annette’s ice cream and you informed me meaningfully that this was her favourite kind which actually I already knew but I still nodded sombrely. Then you told me that if Annette calls in the middle of the night I should always pick up the phone but if Ingo calls it is extremely important not to unless I’m prepared for drunken, high-pitched singing and/or declarations of manly love.
We passed the fry stand on the way home. It was the early hours of the morning and there was a bit of cold light dawning but you still pushed me up against the locked door at the side and kissed me hard. You said that if we had been kids together we would have broken in at night to make out. You accused me of making bad jokes about spicy sausages in this past life you’d concocted but we both knew it would have been you making those jokes. In both lives I shut you up with more kisses.
We got home finally and I flung myself onto the bed. I’m not ashamed to say you’d worn me out. You lay down next to me but your eyes were on the wall - trying to bore a hole through it. “Tell me,” I said, and I meant, “Ask me.”
“I want him to have my share. What I’ve paid so far in the rent. I want him to have my part in the flat in case he wants to stay.”
I nodded because you knew the answer was yes but I knew you had to ask because sometimes it is just about getting the words out. Then I wrapped my arms around you and pressed my forehead into the back of your neck and tried to feel how real you were and not think about anything else except how tired I was and how I would wake up and you would still be there.
no subject
This was just... AUUUUUUGH. So fucking gorgeous and stabby and hot and yummy all at once. I am in love with the idea of exploring Essen via sex (when it's barely about sex at all, with all the reminiscing and advice on how to handle people and oh hell, crying again). I love the little details, like hating the taste of soap and currywurst jokes.
But then there's this: We showered for old times’ sake.
You broke me for good. With six words.
*tries to sticky-tape heart back together, but there's nothing left*
(no subject)
no subject
I did make it to the last paragraph with misty eyes, but then tears were welling up (some kind of allergy I suppose)
Oh, I noticed that I hadn't REALLY thought how I might feel about the aftermath! HMS-denial has comfy chairs on the rear-deck with a great view of the happy past. With your story you have put me onto the iceberg, still seeing what had been, but also feeling the stinging shards and the hurting cold.
(no subject)
no subject
I'm relieved someone wrote about the "aftermath" because I keep wondering what becomes of Deniz afterwards. His own existence in Essen has been shaped by Roman's presence in his life. What can his life be like without Roman in it? This seems like a glimpse of him living with Roman's ghost, figuratively speaking.
"you looked at me as if to say you didn’t need me to apologise and all I do is apologise and that of all the things this was the least of them. You looked at me with eyes that said I love you anyway. So I held it back and suddenly I felt nothing but joy because that was so long ago and I was so scared of all the wrong things but we still made it despite everything I did. Suddenly I felt like we won"
That's the part that really slayed me. And Roman talking about how it would be like if they were both young, how they would have acted in another life, etc. It's really just gotten unbearably sad. But again, in a good way. There's really nothing else I can add. The words you've written are enough.
(no subject)
no subject
but not.
I'm crying more than I ever have during this whole storyline, jsyk.
BBTP, yeah right. yeah RIGHT. was there even any porn in this? because as far as I know there was only pain.
fuck.
<333333333333333333333
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
*sniffs*
you kissed me sloppily from the side and I remembered how I used to hate getting soap in my mouth when I was little. I could eat whole bars of it now just to taste that kiss again.
*sobs*
if Annette calls in the middle of the night I should always pick up the phone but if Ingo calls it is extremely important not to unless I’m prepared for drunken, high-pitched singing and/or declarations of manly love.
*gigglechoke*
how I would wake up and you would still be there.
*wails*
(no subject)
no subject
I'd been avoiding this fic for days because frankly I've long passed my limit for heartbreak, but I knew I couldn't stay away for good because I love your writing too much.
...and I remembered how I used to hate getting soap in my mouth when I was little. I could eat whole bars of it now just to taste that kiss again.
...no srsly, you bitch. *cries*
(no subject)
(no subject)
MOST USELESS COMMENT EVER
:'CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
JDGLA;AGHVBIWE VIWYEKUGUOESUGWHOW
(I hate that I love you. <33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333)
Re: MOST USELESS COMMENT EVER
no subject
(no subject)
no subject
Can only quote back Aldi at you: "Bitch!"
(no subject)
no subject
We are already in the aftermath. Whereas I might feel heartless sometimes while watching SHOW, you lovely lady managed to make me cry; single-handedly. And this is a good thing, honestly.
I love how places constitute the geography of a relationship because memories here are not only linked to places like the kitchen, the Centre, the shower, the flatshare, the frystand, the bed, but to the body, as well, as these places are literally fucked into it. I like this idea very much. (I'm writing my PhD thesis on space/places and their connection and relation to the human body and our memories.) And it's sophisticated porn, too. I love it.
I'll return to your beautiful piece and think some more, if it's ok with you.
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
What I did not expect was to smile throughout. I don't know if it's because I'm too sleepy to access my angst at the moment, or this just really hit me differently. Probably both.
But I think what gave this joy for me (certainly a bittersweet joy, of course) was how spot-on THEM it is. You've so beautifully woven the nuances of each character, and of who they are together, all through this.
So many incredible touches here showing the intimacy and understanding between them. The way Roman needs to reassure himself, to imprint himself on Deniz as much as he can before he passes. The way it's completely unnecessary, but Deniz lets him do it anyway because he gets that Roman needs it. Everything they say to each other -- or don't say, but hear anyway.
GORGEOUS.
(no subject)
no subject
"Suddenly I felt like we won."
I just. And now. They won. Did they lose, too? Does death mean that they lost? Or have they still won? For being together. For loving each other. For having each other still. I DON'T KNOW. ITS TOO MUCH.
And then. So bittersweet. But more than that. It's like the extremes of both, because it's more than a little lovely and a little stabby. But still captured in moments. And from big things like Bulle, to the small things like the taste of soap. The way they know each other so well; the amount of TRUST conveyed in all these snippets.
Akfjfjsksdjdk.