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Paint	By : cryforthemoon Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2058 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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-Paint
- 2-Part Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Part Four
- 5-Part Five
- 6-Six
- 1
- 2
Title - Paint
Pairing – Flake/Olli
Rating – NC-17
Summary – Olli takes advantage of Flake.
Disclaimer – I love Rammstein, however I do not own them. I would rather not have to own the only true elements of this.
Author's Notes – I’m thinking about possibly adding another chapter to this, so con crit and feedback would be lovely.
Warnings – Extremely dubious consent.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. It feels like days, or just minutes, since he left.

I’d invited him over to my apartment for a drink and a talk. He doesn’t really talk that much in public, and it’s much the same in private. Olli, the quiet and calm one. That’s what I thought he was. I was in the middle of doing some painting when he knocked on the door. He wandered around, beer in hand, looking at the other pictures I’d done. He pointed at one.
“What’s this one of?”
“A dream I had. There was a pig walking out of the sun.”
“Oh. What else do you dream about?”
“People. Boats. Birds.”
“What’s this one you’re doing now?”
“A tree. I think.”
“Who is it you dream about?”
“Sometimes random people, sometimes the band.”
“Who do you dream about most?”
I was getting uncomfortable. I didn’t want to admit that I usually just dreamt about one member of the band. They weren’t the kind of dreams I would paint. Olli persisted, though.
“Is it…Till?”
I shook my head, trying to concentrate on the bird I was painting.
“Is it…Schneider?”
“No.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Paul?”
I couldn’t help blushing at the mere mention of him. Olli grinned. “Paul? I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. He is slightly fuckable.”
“Don’t talk about him like that!” I spun around, paintbrush in hand, to find him almost nose to nose with me. I turned back and started on the bird’s wings.
“Ah, so we like him…” Olli teased, a grin in his voice. “I could have a word with him if you like. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
“Don’t. Please don’t. He wouldn’t look at me twice in that way.” My voice dropped to a murmur. “No one does.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Olli’s breath against my ear startled me. I dropped the palette. His arm snaking around my waist prevented me from bending down to pick it up. He pulled me closer against him, his other hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “I, for one, think you are very,” he kissed my neck, “very fuckable.”

I didn’t want this.

“Olli - ” I started, but he didn’t take any notice, just took the brush from my hand. His lips slid across the back of my neck as he dropped it on the floor. I tried to pull away, but he was stronger than me and held me against him. I could feel his chest heaving against my back, hot breath against my neck as he panted with blind lust. His groin was pressed against my arse, hot and hard and alien. I didn’t want this; I wanted Paul, not Olli.

“Olli, don’t. I don’t feel the same, so just – aah…” His hand had slid down past the waistband of my trousers, cupping my crotch and squeezing. It felt like an age since I was touched like that, and I felt my body treacherously reacting to the stimulation. My head lolled back onto Olli’s shoulder, his hand rubbing my cock through my underwear. It felt so good, too good, but it still wasn’t right. Maybe…just a little longer. Then I’d stop him. Can you blame me for wanting to be touched?

Through my half closed eyes I could see the paintbrush lying on the floor. The paint would be drying, sticking the brush to the floor. It’d be hell to clean up.

“Feel good?” Olli whispered, his hot tongue following his words into my ear.
I whimpered and nodded, gasping as he increased the speed of his hand. Up, down, up, down, I was so close…

A car backfired outside and Olli whipped his hand out of my trousers. He crossed the room to the window and peered out. I stood there, rooted to the spot. My ear was wet where he’d licked it, pain starting to throb from where he’d sucked hard on my neck.
He looked back and grinned. “False alarm,” he walked towards me, “now where were we?”
The pain of the love bite and the shock of the noise had brought me to my senses. I stepped back as he reached out for me.
“No. It’s not right.”
“Why not? I’m not going to tell anyone.” He stepped closer. “Are you?”

My hesitation must have shown; his face became dark and he seemed to tower over me. “I only want to teach you. You should be grateful. When you finally fuck Paul he’ll be so glad you know a few things.” He caught me by the waist and held me tight against him, shoving one of my hands against the unmistakable bulge at the front of his combats. “Feel that? You made it. And now you’re going to finish it.” He thrust obscenely into my palm. I couldn’t move.

He unzipped his fly and pulled the combats down along with his underwear. It was black and stretched by his erection.
“This is the first lesson, so I’ll be nice. On your knees.” I obeyed, grateful to sink lower to the ground. He pulled down his underwear and his cock sprang free, the tip glistening in the afternoon sunlight shining through the window.

“Put your hand on it. Good. Now just…rub it. Like you do with your own.” But this was nothing like my own. The angle was wrong, and Olli was thicker than me. The realization of what I was doing swept over me with an accompanying wave of nausea. I rested my forehead against his hip and looked away from his cock to my painting. I could see my hand moving up and down with one eye, but I’d managed to block the view of Olli’s erection. Olli was gently thrusting in time with my hand. “Faster. If you like, you can suck it or lick it.”

“I’m happy just doing this,” I lied, concentrating on the bird in the painting. I wanted to fly away from here with the bird, far away. But instead I was here, kneeling on the floor jerking off a man who until recently I had counted as a trusted friend. I felt the movement of my hand becoming slicker and knew from experience with myself that he wasn’t far off coming. I sped up my hand, my wrist aching, wanting to get this over with before I vomited. Olli moaned, his hips jerking as he came. A hot, sticky trickle over my hand told me he was finished. Thank God. I wiped my hand on my own trousers, grimacing as it slithered over the material. I looked at my watch, I don’t know why. It was exactly 3.55pm. I looked up. Olli was looking down at me with a satisfied grin.
“I think that concludes the lesson for today. See you tomorrow?”
I nodded. I just wanted him out.
“Good. You weren’t bad.” He caught my clean hand and hauled me up. He pressed his lips against my own, his hands resting on my arse. I felt his tongue sweep across my lips and automatically opened my mouth, allowing his tongue to invade my mouth. He tasted stale, his kiss slippery against my unmoving mouth. He stepped back and kissed my cheek. Then he left the room, calling back “See you tomorrow.”

The door closed. I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around my shaking legs. I sat and watched the paint dry to the floor. It’ll be a mess to clean up.
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