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Love and Heat in 470 Nanometers	By : kimbk Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1503 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know any members of Rammstein. This is purely a work of fiction: it does not intend to reflect any aspect of the members' lives and I do not make any profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Love and Heat in 470 Nanometers
- 1
Author's Note: There's no point in me pattering on. The warnings are below.
I'm sorry for this one.
Warning: PWP, Dominant!Richard, Till/Richard, two men alternatively loving and being dickish to each other, tastelessness, not usual Kimbk material. OOC abound. Dialogue heavy. Metafiction. Disjointed style, probably unsexy, not meant to be taken seriously at all. Ich Tu Dir Weh inspired, based off an actual dream I had and written in about three hours. Will likely make you question my sanity. DON'T TRY ANY OF THIS, EVER.
470nm is the wavelength for a miniature white LED.
-------------------
Early December and frost is thick upon the windows as Till and Richard are getting ready to shoot the video for 'Ich Tu Dir Weh'. Richard is smoking as per usual, but this time he's being rather half-hearted about it, for once not enjoying the nicotine rush. He's doing something more important than that. "What I'm saying is," he crushes out the half-smoked cigarette on an ashtray. Till looks over from his own table, brushing back his hair. "what I'm saying is, no offence intended, but I think we can do with spicing up our sex life a little at the moment."
"Are you saying I'm not romantic enough?"
"You're romantic, Till. You really are. But you're romantic in a repetitive way," Richard says. "rose petals and incense only gets you so far if you keep using it."
Till huffs, leaning back and swirling a nearly empty can of beer in his hands. "Well, excuse me if I can't vary it every five minutes, Risch. I'm forty-six, forty-seven in about a month's time. Sex isn't the priority in my life and hasn't been for quite a long time - I care for you and love you, but with the tour and band work and all, I can't really be creative all the time when it comes to the bedroom."
In a way, this tour has been a little bothersome for Richard. He likes travelling and performing, but as the singer said, it leaves them with precious little time for each other and totally sucks out Till's creativity regarding sexual matters. It used to be a little more varied, but recently they've been so busy - it's gotten to the point where Richard can basically guess when the older man's going to climax by just counting the thrusts, and in his eyes, that's bad. Both of them are tired from all the work they've been doing, but God forbid that interfere with their shared passion. It really doesn't help that Till's been quite irritated lately, although the younger man looks at him and finds himself pining for him anyway - if he could pierce his cheek and endure over a week's worth of pain and inflammation for his art, why can't he just devote a bit more time to being with Richard too?
"I don't mean literally every five minutes, Till. Just every now and then, maybe once every week or so. I'd," he pauses, hesitating. "I'd even be happy to go without sex for a while if it'd help."
"You complain about everything, Risch," Till says bitterly, taking a sip out of his beer. He fiddles with the piercing on his cheek and takes out the plug. "I can't stand it."
"Sorry."
Till spits out his beer through the pierced hole in his cheek when he hears the younger man actually apologizing without any sort of argument whatsoever. Richard looks at him with a vaguely disgusted look in his eyes, slicking back his hair.
No, actually I'm not sorry at all. I'm being reasonable, I reckon. Heh heh.
"Ugh. Gross."
-----
A few tissues later, the situation is considerably rectified and their discussion is briefly put on hold as the assistants come in to put the final touches. This is where they run the cable through Till's cheek - Richard winces as he watches it, but the singer himself takes it in full stride. "Open your mouth," the assistant instructs and peers in as the older man complies, checking that the LED is shining at the right angle. "turn your head to the left... to the right... tilt up... down... well, Herr Lindemann, it looks as if the light is mounted securely. Don't drink anything while it's in."
"I won't. Danke."
With that, and a few little adjustments, they're left alone again after a reminder that they've got about fifteen-twenty minutes of waiting time until every band member is sorted out and the stage is set up. Not much longer than the norm. Unfortunately for Till, Richard takes this opportunity to start up the discussion again. "What are we going to do after this?"
"I'm going back to my place and taking a long nap. What about you?"
Richard pouts. "No inviting me over?"
"Alright, Risch, this is getting ridiculous-"
"Never mind," the guitarist sighs mournfully, not wanting to provoke Till any further. He at least knows when enough is enough. This knowledge doesn't help him the slightest when he turns towards the window, looking at the thick frost clinging to the glass and making a dismayed face. "aww. Damn it. No wonder it's so cold in here. Wish they'd turn up the heat or something."
Till decides that even this is too much complaining for one day and throws his empty beer can across the room. Right across the goddamn room. The can hits the opposite wall with a thud and rolls across the carpeted floor.
"You've really got to cut the bitching, Kruspe," he snarls, fist clenching. "it's not very attractive."
Blink. "What, because of the frost? Till, it's winter, of course it's frosty, I was just saying-"
"Take off your trousers."
"... What?"
"Take off your goddamn trousers. You asked for it, you'll get it."
Richard takes a nervous step back. "... Are you... being serious?"
"Serious? Serious as all hell!" Till hollers, thumping his fist on the dressing table. "now take it off or I'll break it off!"
Neither of them are sure what he meant by that. Not even Till.
But either way, Richard's sprung into action. He's not usually the type to be intimidated but he can see that he's set off something in the older man - his placating nature's kicked in, he needs Till to be complacent for the shoot somehow. He obeys and takes off his belt and unbuttons his trousers as quickly as anything, pulling them down along with his boxers. Not content with this alone, Till shoves him roughly onto a chair before forcing his legs apart and kneeling between them.
"What... what the hell are you doing?"
"Giving you what you want so you'll stop bitching once and for all," he growls, pushing Richard's garments out of the way and looking at his exposed member. Feeling Till's hot breath on it makes the younger man squirm and grow hard within a few seconds, and when the older man reaches out and takes his semi-erect length in one hand he lets out an involuntary moan. "we can be quick about it."
"Why can't you be this assertive in the bedroom," Richard groans. He's surprisingly really turned on by that. "I mean - Jesus Christ, Till, is that safe?"
Till's started licking at his erection. With electronics in his mouth. There's a fine line between kink and purely hazardous, and Richard doesn't know what to feel about the fact that the older man might be toeing this line in the most dangerous manner. Being treated differently during sex is one thing and being electrocuted by an LED is another. How would they even explain any of that?
"Trust me."
"I... I really think this is a bad idea," Richard moans, but Till's tongue is hot and slippery against his length. Without really realizing it he's spread his legs a little wider, allowing the older man to shift closer and take as much in as he can. "what does that thing even... even run on anyway?"
"Battery. Just be quiet and let me handle this," Till mumbles, immediately following his licks up with a light kiss to the tip of the other's member.
"This won't electrocute my cock or anything, right?"
"Nein. Shut up."
"But it's my cock. My cock, Lindemann. I need my cock."
"Ha ha. Fuck you."
"That's exactly what you're doing."
Till doesn't respond, apparently having decided that it isn't worth pursuing such a trivial argument when they could be getting on with more action. He lightly runs the edge of his teeth along the other's member, however, just for a second to convey the message that the guitarist should just stay quiet. Richard inhales sharply at the sensation only to let it out again shakily when Till moves up and caresses his slit with the tip of his (very dextrous) tongue, tasting precum and lapping at the sensitive head ever so playfully.
He can't stop staring at Till's tongue. Till has a very skilled tongue. Quite long, too. But it's more that the white light from the LED is illuminating it in a way that Richard honestly can't ignore. Wanting to hold the older man close, he reaches out - and then stops because there's nothing much to hold onto. He isn't going to grasp him around the face when the cable's in the way, and Till's fitted against him so that he can't really grab onto the other's shoulders. So he does the only reasonable thing and leans back with one hand, clutching at the other's hair with the other and forcing his head down. The hairnet makes it easier.
"Mmmmph," the older man protests, grimacing. This makes Richard smile; he likes having the upper hand.
"Oh God, ohhh, that's it," he moans as the singer moves up after a little struggle, immediately reaching down to lick and caress the base of the shaft and pushing his boxers to the side to gain more access. "good slut."
He braces himself for Till to give him a smack somewhere, press painfully hard on the tip or even nip at his member to punish him as the words slip out of his mouth. Till doesn't usually appreciate being called a slut, which is fair enough because he isn't one. He's lucky this time around though, as the man's gotten into the mood as well; he simply obliges to the title, holding onto Richard's erection rather possessively with one hand as he laps up the thick precum from his now heavily leaking tip. Closing his lips around the head, nibbling at the sensitive skin and swirling his tongue around the rim, one hand stroking and tugging lightly at the base. Richard bucks a little into the other's mouth only to be held down by a firm hand resting on his thigh, making him whimper in frustration.
The whimper soon turns into a cry as the older man suddenly plunges his head downwards, taking the entirety of the other's length in his mouth for a couple of seconds before pulling back in the most agonizingly slow and slick manner as possible. His eyes, an uncanny bright blue from the contacts, are nevertheless full of lust as they meet with the guitarist's own. Richard shivers as he feels his member sliding against the other's throat muscles and tongue, feeling especially tingly when he feels the hard, hot LED brushing against it as well. "Fuck," he gasps out, making Till pull away. "Till... Till, honest to God, that felt really good... but don't do that again..."
"Warum?"
"I felt the LED. I'll dislodge it if you carried on, what if you choked on it or something?"
"Fine," Till responds somewhat haughtily, seeing the logic but apparently a little ruffled that his deep throating skills haven't come in handy for the day. He nevertheless gets back to it right away, this time making up for it with liberal use of his tongue and lips. In a way, the LED is quite convenient - because Till can't swallow as much as he usually can out of fear of shorting out the light or having other accidents, his mouth feels extra slippery and there's a lot of saliva to spare. He's also rubbing himself through his costume, clearly aroused by what he's doing to Richard - which retroactively turns on the younger man even more.
Talk about kinky. This is definitely different.
"Mmm... oh, Gott..."
Till's expression has softened considerably, his eyes sliding shut lazily as he bobs his head up and down. He's always been good at blowjobs, and this time is really no exception. With his lips fully closed around his length, Richard can almost ignore the fact that the inside of the other's mouth is glowing white and he has a thick black cable running through his cheek. Till was right - there's just his hot wet mouth and slick tongue pressing and rubbing hard against his length, along with the additional heat created by the LED, and not a trace of electrocution or weird sensations. It's blissful, quick, filthy and utterly scandalous and Richard loves it. "Till," he gasps out, running the tips of his fingers along the nape of the other's neck, hoping that he's getting his appreciative message through. "Till... ahh..."
That is, until Till pulls away a little. "It's going to have to be a handjob from here," he says, his voice husky and breathless, manipulating the other's now very slippery shaft in one hand. "you can't come in my mouth, Risch. Sorry."
Talk about a mood whiplash. The guitarist much prefers it when Till swallows. "Why not?" he asks, feeling a little hurt - although he can feel himself reaching his peak anyway because the older man's skilled with his fingers as well.
"LED shorted out by cum. Potential electrocution. By cum. How are you going to explain that, Kruspe."
He could respond in a variety of ways. We've come this far, why not go for the full ride? is definitely a thought there, alongside It's an acceptable risk, if you think of the millions of potential Kruspe Juniors that we've both accepted that we're going to be sacrificing. Till does have a valid point, though, and he should respect that even if it's just going to be a handjob. But as Richard throws his head back and pants hard, his body becoming taut in preparation for a spectacular orgasm, he has an idea. He'll get his own back on the singer.
"Like this," he cries out, and without warning he bucks hard into Till's hand. Startled, the man flinches back a little while still stroking the other's member, giving Richard one final push off the edge and causing him to come all over Till's face. Much to his surprise (and secret delight) he's actually managed to come so hard that it's even gotten on the hairnet; that's what you get for spicing it up like this, he thinks to himself dazedly as he closes his eyes and shivers, riding out his orgasm.
It's a good thing he didn't come on his clothes, at least. They'd never get the stain out.
But what really makes the experience for Richard is the expression on Till's face. He's kneeling there, Richard's cum dripping down his cheek and with the most innocently stunned expression; his eyes are wide and he's staring disbelievingly at the younger man as he's coming down from his high. Completely different from the aggressive, bestial vocalist they're all used to seeing.
"That's," he finally stammers out, still staring wide-eyed at the younger man as if he can't believe what happened. "that's not quite what I meant."
Richard smiles fondly at the sight. The older man looks so adorably confused; he's not greeted to that expression often, and he better make the best of it.
"Too late," he says gently; he then pulls out a tissue and wipes the cum off Till's face ever so carefully before cleaning himself up. It's a good thing that they chose a dressing room to do this in, where tissues and clean-up products are in limitless supply. He makes sure to be as tender as possible, making sure to use several tissues to dry the other's skin thoroughly and even mopping the liquid off his hair. At first the singer tenses a little, not used to being the one who's being cleaned off after a liaison of this sort, but he gives in remarkably quickly and lets Richard care for him. "here. I missed a bit."
With that, Richard pulls up the other man and kisses him right on the lips, flicking out his tongue to lap up the final remnants of his cum from the corner of Till's mouth. He's feeling pleasantly drowsy now, and if they were in bed together this would be about the right time for a long, pleasant cuddle and a shared sleep - but they can't quite manage that. As he's thinking this, Till slowly returns his kiss, tangling his fingers in his hair and brushing his tongue against his, giving Richard a taste of his own self - "Mmm, Risch," he murmurs sensually against his lips, his voice much softer than before, trailing his hand down to lightly grope the guitarist's backside. "... did you enjoy it?"
Richard snorts. "Hell, yeah."
"Gut. Do you... want another go after the shoot? Back at my place. If you want."
"Are you going to have the light in?"
"I doubt it."
"Tch," the guitarist says, but nevertheless laughs as he cups the other's cheek and kisses him again. "well, at least I stand corrected when it comes to saying you've lost your creativity. Why not."
Instead of a verbal reply, Till gives him an all-knowing look and a nod. That's all they need. From the clock, they've still got five minutes - Till uses this time to sweep his hair back up into the hairnet and check that the light in his mouth hasn't been damaged in any way. Richard checks for any wrinkles in his costume - there are none, thankfully - checks his nails and also tidies his hair back into the needed slick hairstyle.
"It's all out of my hair, right?"
"I don't know. Is that relevant?" Richard asks as he performs a last-minute clean up, pushing in the chairs and sweeping the crumpled tissues into a nearby wastebasket. They look at each other and then towards a fourth wall where the author can be seen repeatedly bashing her head into a desk because she's written an unfunny terrible abomination that she won't be able to take back, and then they look back at each other with a mild shrug. Till readjusts the hairnet and looks into a nearby mirror, checking that the LED is still firmly fixed in place.
"Wouldn't want it to show up in ultraviolet lighting. It'd be hard to explain."
"This is a music video set, not a strip club. You'll be fine."
The singer gives him a little smile before clearing his throat and assuming the hard, sullen expression he'll need for the video. Richard grabs his guitar as well, returning the smile, and then they walk out together - ready to give the performance of a lifetime.
-----
"... Risch."
"Ja?"
"The plug. I lost the plug. The piercing's going to seal up. No more cable. No more fun times with 3.3 Volts. What the hell do we do?"
"Ah. Shit."
- 1
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Love and Heat in 470 Nanometers