Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Richard's Pen	By : Cyndiana Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1503 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Richard's Pen
- 1
TITLE: Richard’s Pen
AUTHOR: Cyndiana
RATING: NC-17 for graphic depiction of M/M sexuality and language.
PAIRING: Paul/Richard
ARCHIVE: A Feather in the Blood (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afeatherintheblood/)
SYNOPSIS: Richard…Paul…a pen…liebe?
DISCLAIMER: Not intended as statement of fact. Work of fiction. Not-for-profit.

***********************************************

I stand by watching him. He’s one fascinating man sometimes. Right now is no exception. He taps one of those cheap, disposable ballpoint pens on his lip in time to the rhythm only he hears through his headphones. His eyes are fixed on some mysterious spot on the console of his studio as he listens to the demo track he just laid. He makes various faces of disgust and displeasure, scribbles some completely unreadable notes to himself on his legal pad, and keeps listening.

Pen tapping always leads to pen chewing as he becomes more and more disgusted by the music he hears. It’s all I can do to stifle a deep chuckle as black ink dribbles down his chin. I slip up behind him and run my finger up his chin. He gasps and jumps about three feet.

“Paul?”
“You look like you tried to suck off the Exxon Valdez.“
“Juan Valdez? No, I don’t want any coffee…“

I show him my inky finger tip. He examines his broken pen and freaks out, as is his nature.

Almost everywhere that man goes, I can almost hear him shriek, “Not the face, ANYTHING but the face!”

He throws off his headphones and bolts for the bathroom that resides just off his studio.

“Shit!”

He wipes his mouth, but his chin is now a fetching shade of blue.

“Correction…You look like you’ve been sucking off a Smurf!” I retort, laughing obnoxiously quite intentionally.
He shoots me his well-practiced, “You-are-annoying-the-Diva!” glare.
I roll my eyes, and retrieve a bottle of vodka.
“Hey, lady, you got any cotton balls?”

He shoves a canister toward me. I soak a few puffs of cotton in the vodka, and stuff them in his mouth.

“Mrph?” he asks, perturbed.
“That’s to help you deal with the trauma. And this one will get that stain out of your skin.”

I soak a single cotton ball in the vodka, and wipe his chin until all traces of ink are gone. When I’m done, he spits the cotton balls I put in his mouth right into my face.

“Ah! Ah! Alcohol in my eye, burning….” I whimper, wiping my face with a towel.
He laughs in that axe-murderer chortle of his.

This is how we function, a perfect balance of dysfunction. I know he wants me. He knows I want him. But, right now, in this stage of the game, it’s a lot more fun to pretend we can’t stand one another. Ja, he can’t stand me so much, he called me at my home in Berlin and invited me to fly all these miles to New York City to stay with him while Caron was away on business. Uh-huh…

He skitters like a jittery mouse, examining his partially unbuttoned shirt to make sure its pristine silk hasn’t be defiled by Bic. Alas, it’s still a virgin. I roll my eyes. That man is so image conscious as to be borderline obsessive-compulsive.

The man starches his pants and polishes his boots EVERY DAY. His jeans are so stiff, if you tap them, they’ll shatter like glass. It’s like the ghost of Levi Strauss has possessed them, and he is VERY horny.

Can you blame him? Look who’s gorgeous ass is occupying the denim!

I said before we exist on a balance of dysfunction. I already told you one side of the scale…The grains of wheaty annoyance. I annoy him by being a smartass, he annoys me by being a priss. Now, the gold pieces of trade lie on the other end of the scale:
Seduction.

Oh ja, I said it: SEDUCTION.

The grain is too heavy on the annoyance side of the scale. Time to drop a few shekels.

He takes off his shirt to make sure that no ink has tarnished his chiseled chest. Alas, a stray drop HAD found its way to the very top of his left pec. Paul to the rescue. I take another cotton ball, soak it in vodka, and wipe it away. When it is ink-free, I lick the vodka away, making sure to lick my lips quite trampily afterward. He cocks his eyebrow quizzically.

“Hey, that’s expensive fucking vodka! I’m tired of wasting it on you.” I reply, and with one good pop on his blessed ass, I leave the bathroom.

I settle into the couch, and turn on the TV. I stop on Food Network since my English is so limited, and one thing universally understood is the language of food. That, and the language of sex…Speaking of…

Richard saunters into the living room, shirt absent from his softly chiseled torso. His jeans ride low on his hips, and I am doing my damnedest to pretend I don’t notice.

He smells of woody, floral cologne and Marlboro, a cigarette dangling from his lip.

“What are you watching?”
“A cooking show of some sort…Looks like he’s making hummus.”
“Ah…” he says, pen in hand, sliding it in and out of his mouth. He purses his lips tightly, letting it glide between the moist pillows of flesh. It is this that inspires me to retrieve a pillow from off the couch and set it over my lap.

He takes his velveteen, pink, fleshy tongue and runs it all around the pen, paying special attention to the end of it, acting as if he is fascinated by the hummus-making process.

I swallow, hard, though my mouth is so dry…I finally choke out a smart-ass reply.

“Watch out, you’ll make it cum all over your chin again.”
“You want to do WHAT, Paulie?”
“I-I-I….Uhh….”

He chuckles, and gets lost in the show again, running the saliva soaked pen up and down the line between his pecs.

My breath grows shaky as all I want is to be that pen…or for a very “attentive” part of me to be that pen… I decide he isn’t going to win so easily. I stand up and head for the balcony.

“Where are you going?” he asks.
I’m considering jumping for it I think to myself.

The cool, crisp, New York autumn air whooshes around my head, ruffling my hair. The traffic below sounds just as angry and time-pressed as usual. You can hear “Fuck you buddy!” as often as a bird’s call.

I feel his chest pressed up against my back, and he holds me tight to him.

“Please Paulie, don’t jump! Who else will annoy me to the point of near-madness?”
“Just record yourself talking about any given subject for about five minutes, and play it back. Count the times you mention your hair, your face, your nail polish, or your shoes…mission accomplished.”

He puts his lips by my ear, and whispers breathily…
“Fuck you Paulie…”

Then promptly sticks the slobbery end of his pen in my ear, cackling madly.

My first impulse is to wipe away the spit, make a girly “Ewww!” face, but I am a man, after all, and my thoughts turn to that pen now being his tongue, snaking its way around the shell of my ear, his breath hot and desperate. Ohhhh God….

That’s it…You’ve had it baby…You’re going down…or I am…

He stands at his sink, sipping from a glass of vodka. I run and leap onto his back, legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

In two seconds I go from riding Richard to being pinned underneath him, his full weight upon me.

“Did I mention I used to wrestle in school?”
I gasp, and say, strained, “Once or twice….”

He laughs softly, and flicks the tip of his tongue at my right earlobe.
I shiver from head to foot.

“Uhm….uhmm…Richard?”
“Ja?”
“What are…Uhh…what are you doing?”
“Has it REALLY been so long for you, Paulie?” he says with a condescending chuckle.

I flip him off, and sucks the finger, letting his tongue do what it was just doing to the pen not but 10 minutes ago.

“Ok, ok….Richard…get off me…This is…oh God, what is this?”
“Get off on you? Don’t mind if I do lover…”

And with that his soft, cherry flavored lips enclose around mine, sucking and kissing.

Ok, he wins…

I raise up into the kiss, gripping the back of his head, so hungry for him I can hardly stand it. Forget being a prick, forget trying to get in the well-placed zinger…My mind is consumed with him, and what we are doing…What we’re about to do…

I slide my hands into the back of his pants. I find the globes of his ass, and massage them. The skin is so soft and warm, the muscles underneath so firm, clenching now that he is grinding against me slowly, rubbing his erection against mine.

I call out as his lips find my neck, and his teeth work at the flesh there. A few more minutes of this treatment, and I’ll need a change of underwear. His lips flitter over my jaw line, brushing over my lips. He rips my shirt open ferally, licking and sucking at my chest, green eyes boring into mine.

His hand finds my screaming hard-on, and cups it gently.

“Wow, Paulie! For me?”

I can’t even speak, my mind pervaded with images of all the things I want to do to him, ranging from fucking him until his left eye straightens out, to shoving him off of me, running for the bathroom, and working out my own tension. Then laughing as he sits there, perturbed. Option two sounds like a lot of fun.

I put a hand on either side of his waist and gather my strength. Eins…zwei…drei…and I shove him...he rolls about twice as I flee.

“Oh no you don’t you little shit!” he calls after me.

He grabs me, and spins me around, flopping me onto the bed.

“This is more comfortable anyways.” he says with a crooked grin.
“Do you really want to fuck me?” I ask, it now completely dawning on me.
“Well, I’d have to see the goods first, before making such a decision…” he whispers in a low growl, as he undresses me.

My cock is at its full capacity, hard as titanium, big as life. He smiles approvingly.

“Wow, Paulie…You’re a bigger boy than I previously imagined.”
“You’ve previously imagined me?”
“Only every time you’re near me…”
“Stop it, you’re a cock tease…” I whimper pathetically, now longing to bury said part as deeply inside him as I can manage.

He looks deeply into my eyes, strong hand gripping my cock, and begins to pump me firmly.

My balls throb as they prepare for what is going to happen all too soon…

“Reesh, st….stop…I’m going to…I’m going to…”
“That’s the idea, Schatz….”

I cry out as my cum billows over his hand, onto my abdomen in stream after stream.

I am mourning that it ended so quickly, if not a bit embarrassed. I often last much, MUCH longer, but just his mere touch is more than even I could stand…and I’m not easily impressed.

He licks his hand clean, then my abdomen. He flips me onto my stomach.

“Reesh, what are you…?”
“My turn…”

Oh God, he’s gonna…put…in my…I gasp for air.

“Richard, but I’ve never…This is all…”
“Good, you’ll be tight then…That makes it even more exciting…”

I hear him spit onto his hand, a gesture that is quite manly for him…

He fingers me deeply, and it hurts like all hell.

“Richard stop, it hurts, it hurts!”
“Oh, it’s going to get much worse in a second…Then a whole lot better.”

I am really scared now, but equally excited…longing…

He slams into me, grunting loudly. I feel like I’m going to split right down the core of me. His thrusts are commanding, his penetration deep, and all at once mind-shattering pain morphs into ball-draining pleasure.

“Richard, holy fucking God…..” I grip his pillows, the madness of rapture clouding my brain…

He moans loudly, unashamedly. God, he sounds even better fucking than I imagined…

“Ohhhh….Paul, God….you feel so good…I love fucking you…Let me hear how good it feels…”

I let go completely, and cry out as his every thrust brings promise of even greater pleasure than the last.

I feel my limp cock roar back to life beneath me. Richard continues his assault upon my prostate, and I’m screaming so loud, my throat is shredded. Luckily, he is screaming at the same decibel level, so I know the feeling is mutual.

I feel him release inside of me, and I soon follow, starching his bed linens as thoroughly as he does his pants. Maybe he’ll thank me later.

He falls beside me, chest heaving, face glistening with sweat. He wipes his face with his hand, then pops my bared, and violated, ass.

I roll onto my back, thoroughly shaken but what we’ve just done…if not a bit bemused by it.

He nips at my neck, and kisses me deeply.

I am enraptured.

He laughs deeply.

“What do you find so funny?” I ask with a sated grin.
“Who’d have thought? You…and I…Would ever…”
I chuckle. ”Truce?”
“Truce.” he replies, with another tasty kiss to seal the deal.
“After all…” I begin, “the pen IS mightier than the sword…”
“WHAT about my penis?” he asks, with a deep chuckle.
“No, I said pen…is….oh, ha, ha, smartass!”

He tweaks my nose and snuggles against my chest, easing into a deep sleep.

I smile softly, caressing his hair a bit before joining him.

Tomorrow, back to annoyance. This side of the scale’s a bit full.

DIE ENDE
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Richard's Pen