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The Momentary Collapse of Duality	By : kimbk Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1747 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know any members of Rammstein or Oomph!. 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-The Momentary Collapse of Duality
- 1
The Momentary Collapse of Duality - A Rammstein/Oomph! Crossover

Pairing: Dero Goi/Till Lindemann.

Warnings: Possibly confusing narrative (reverse chronology), vastly Dero POV, slash, bondage/BDSM, sub!Till/dom!Dero, AU due to their relationship. Very explicit; you can bet that in general, anything that has Dero in it in my stories will feature a great deal of hedonistic lust. It follows strict chronology thus I wouldn't quite call it PWP. Some intentional purple prose.

Probably the only story of mine that makes just as much (if not more) sense read backwards. In fact, I'd even recommend it after you're done with reading it the proper way around.

----------------------------------------

1000 - "Brennende Liebe"

Longing is always cruel, but even more so when unreciprocated, which (in all fairness) it very often seems to be.

But before this story begins - or ends, it's imperative to keep in mind that this isn't that kind of story.

"Till, wo bist du?" Richard's voice rings out in the condo that the band's rented out for the month. "can you hear me?"

No reply comes, but the man isn't a lead guitarist for nothing. Richard possesses very sharp ears, perfectly suited for hearing cues amidst a noisy performance, improvising any melody, or even picking up the faintest of sighs in a single bedroom. He stands still for a while, frowning in concentration – then when the sigh comes again, makes an immediate beeline for the door.

"Till, there – oh, mein Gott, get a room, you two."

The room is tidy, if dark. Nevertheless it's bright enough that the guitarist can see the two naked men on the bed, nestled close to each other. "Got one," one of the men hollers; he sits right up and gives Richard an oddly wild-eyed grin. His hair is mussed and spiked up a little.

"Guten Tag, Dero. As much as I appreciate both your exercises in nudity, however, tell Till that I came here to pick up my music sheets."

"On the desk," a sleepy voice responds. It's the other male, lying relaxed, one green catlike eye focused on Richard's movements. "and no problem at all."

Dero grins, and makes if to pull the blankets right up to his shoulders - but then seems to think better of it, nuzzling into Till's chest and throwing the guitarist a coy look. "Would you like to join in, too? Till and I've done much kinkier things. He still has a great body, doesn't he?"

"Nein, danke. I daresay that during the two-and-a-half decades of our friendship, I've seen Till naked more than enough for a lifetime. Though it certainly is tempting, seeing you both," Richard grins - and then reaches down to give Dero a playful slap on the backside, making him squirm. "and to think that I wasn't sure whether it was wise for you two to even be together at first, considering Till's age and your status as the frontman of a rival group. How long's it been?"

"Seventeen years this November."

Richard whistles, looking impressed. "Over twice as long as any of my relationships. I wouldn't have expected that Till had it in him-"

"- I am here, you know, Risch-"

"- I know. I envy you immensely for it. I just wish we'd all been able to let go of our hard feelings earlier, you don't realize how pointless hostilities are until-"

"It's fine. All the opposition probably ended up helping us more than anything."

"A proper Romeo-and-Juliet, you two. Except-" Richard stands up and leans in with a mock-stern look. "-if either of you end up like the story, then I swear I'm going to kill you to death. Even if you're already dead. Because after all that, that'd be the biggest let-down of the century, I swear to God."

"You'd kill us to death. How eloquent of you."

Till is given a playful shove before Richard stands up and bids them both a goodbye, saying that he's having lunch with Schneider. A welcome interruption. "Though," the younger man remarks as the door shuts behind them. "we ought to eat something, too."

"That'd be much appreciated. You can go cook it for us."

"Was? Why do I have to do it?"

"So you can wear just the apron that I bought for you last week while you cook. I'll be watching. Besides, you too can cook once in a while, you're no longer a child."

Pause.

"... I'm not?"

They've had this debate before, and they've brought other people into the dispute as well. Dero wouldn't think of it now, but even just a few years back he was almost childlike in his pursuit of Till, unable to think of anything but the man in the most inconvenient times. It's all thanks to Andreas and Robert, along with Till's patience (and of course, Dero's hyperfocused attitude during album recordings and tours) that Oomph! has done so incredibly well despite his years-long distraction; he's still apologetic about that, and God forbid he ever show signs of neglecting his responsibilities again.

"No, you're not. You're a man," Till kisses him just beneath the eyebrows and he closes his eyes, feeling the other's lips brush very gently against his eyelids. "you simply needed to see it for yourself, and you did."
Dero is highly charmed, and would have shown this to Till full-heartedly (lunch be damned) if not for his phone ringing by the side table; a frown instantly crossing his features, he grabs and checks it. "Oh," he says, crestfallen. "... they're wondering where I am."

"Then you ought to go."

"You're sure you won't mind?

Till laughs and ruffles Dero's spiked-up hair. "Of course not," he says, his voice filled with affection. "don't worry about me. Now go. No one likes laziness. Give Andreas and Robert my regards too, ja?"

A shame about the apron, but there'll be a time for that later. Within half an hour Dero is showered and dressed, ready to meet up with his bandmates. Till's used the same amount of time to change the sheets and open all the windows, freshening up the air – seeing his lover all ready to leave, though, he stops what he's going and opens his arms, enveloping him in his embrace.

"I'll get going now, Till. Back by eight, I promise."

"Ja."

A kiss, and Dero's out of the door. Till watches him go and smiles fondly, then goes to sit down by his writing desk. He ought to get something to eat now, but as a writer, he ought to scribble down the images within his mind first before he loses track of them.

And with Dero, there are plenty.

-----

900 - Wahrheit oder Pflicht

1995

"Herr Dero Goi was backstage! How did he even manage to get in?"

"Oh, yes. I talked to him a little, too. A very gifted young man."

"He was polite enough, right, Till?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

"I suppose that it would have been a sign that we disassociate ourselves with this sound, if he couldn't show some basic politeness to someone seven years his senior. He didn't say anything else?"

"... Nothing that's of much concern."

"We'll have to keep on our toes, if they're this aware of us. Enough for the frontman to come and check us out. Though really I guess that applies to more than just Oomph!."

"No need to be harsh, Schneider. We took our inspiration from their album. We're the underdog right now. Fair is fair."

"Oh yeah. 'You want to suck, you need your first cock', indeed. Nothing short of poetry. You're older and write at least three times as better - so don't you dare falter now, Till! They might have entered the game earlier, but there's nothing stopping us from making it even better!"

"..."

1998

"Dero, where are you going?"

"Oh, nowhere special - tell Flux that I'm going to be back late, though, I'm having dinner outside-"

"With who?"

"Hmm?"

"You surely don't think that I didn't notice the flowers in your car. Now tell me. Who're you meeting?"

"..."

"... All right. It's none of my business. Be safe."

"Danke, Andreas."

"Bitte. But just because we're taking a little break after 'Unrein' doesn't mean you ought to play around, Dero. You know that better than anyone."

"... I... I know."

"Remember where your loyalties are."

2000

"You did what?!"

"Risch, I can explain-"

"Explain?! Jesus Christ, Till, you're out of your mind! It was - it was just a casual acquaintanceship five years ago, I had no reason to think that-"

"At least we've developed a relationship over five years instead of jumping to it thoughtlessly!"

"It's not about that! I'm just - ugh, I - what happens when the whole industry knows that Till Lindemann and Dero Goi have slept together? It can't be good for either band!"

"... You think it's that problematic, then?"

"Of course I do! If people know, then the rumours are going to fly - probably about how you've manipulated him or something - considering our reputation so far, they'll be eager to pick on you for anything at all, don't you understand?"

"We have a lot of affection for each other, Risch. We're not going to stop seeing each other just because of this."

"Well, great. Just keep it quiet, lieber Gott!"

2003

"Dero. This has to stop."

"No, it doesn't. What's even the point in telling our relationship - which is still going perfectly strong - to back down? Now let go, Till's waiting for me."

"I worry about-"

"That's enough, Robert! I've been hearing this for the past few years and there's been no progress whatsoever!"

"I don't worry that Herr Lindemann will hurt you. He's proved to be trustworthy enough. But I worry that because of this you're spending less time with us. The band that you belong to. In a strictly business sense, you know how bad that is."

"What if I told you that Till's presence was my muse? What if I said that without Till, I'd see no reason to write or create anymore?"

"...You're still young."

"And I wouldn't be considered that if you just left us be!"

2007

"...You do love him, don't you."

"..."

"I didn't come all the way here to discourage you. I figured that you get enough of that from your own band as it is."

"How observant of you, Paul."
"... I apologize."

"What's there to apologize for. Till and I have no intention of backing down. We're not letting it interfere with band duty. You'd think a decade's worth of determination would be enough, but from what I gather neither band's open to the idea and won't be until we both burn ourselves out and withdraw from the public eye. And it's a shame, but we're done, both me and Till."

"You're – you're done?"

"Oh, not in the way everyone else wants. I mean that neither of us wish to fight about this issue anymore with our respective bandmates."

"So you are still together, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because I didn't come here to demand that you back off from Till or anything like that. I just wanted to give you my blessings."

"... Huh?"

"I'm nearly the same age as Till and I have watched you two for a long time. After those years of seeing no evidence that either of you are being manipulated by the other, I figure that it's time to let go of hard feelings. Because – and I've said this to everyone in Rammstein as well – let us face it, the animosity is purely due to the fact that we're in rival groups. Nothing more. And that ought not to spill over to private life. That's all I wanted to say."

"..."

"I'll get going then-"

"... Paul."

"Yes."

"... Thank you."

2010

"So Till-"

"So Dero-"

"- that's how it is."

"Yes."

"Fifteenth anniversary, you said?"

"- Yes, Flake."

"- Yes, Andreas."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Dero's-"

"Till's-"

"- a wonderful man. Be good to him, the way you always have done."

-----

800 - "Mehr"

Behind silken-blindfolded eyes, the idea of movement is both above and below the threshold of perception; there is nothing to refer to except for the zigzag of sensation, and even then at irregular intervals.

Till is going through that now, suspended on a St. Andrew's Cross like an angel trapped between firmament and earth, his lover's cum steadily dripping out of him – like hot wax – the polished wooden floor becoming increasingly pearl-licked with the essence as the seconds tick by. Time has lost all meaning – the distant and steady ticking is the only thing Till can hold onto in his imprisonment, his body long since splintered underneath his partner's will. His lips are still bruised with the taste of Dero Goi as he pants through the bit gag clenched between his teeth, suffocating ever so beautifully in air heavy with the smell of sex, sweat and cologne.

This is what liberation of the soul is like, he thinks to himself. A master of words, there are still some things that he cannot imprison in words alone, and this moment is precisely one of those things – but however loose the net of language and however transcendent the moment might be, he still manages to ensnare it. Dero's every moan still echoes in his ear, his every thrust still lodged deep within the archive of his skin. He is exhausted, aching and utterly spent, for he has been like this for almost a full day, going through apparently-endless cycles of waiting to be fucked and then being fucked.

Creak. The door opens. Footsteps clicking their way across the floor.

"It's about time that we let you down, isn't it, Till?"

He only has to close his eyes and relax to recall the solidity of Dero's member inside him, filling him up, thrusting with the entire length. Love and lust flickering inside him like static, how his limbs trembled as metal and leather links kissed them and held them fast. Dero reaches behind his older lover's head and unstraps the bit gag, smiling as he hears Till gasping a swimmer's gasp in response. "Can you talk?"

"...D-Dero...I..."

If Till could see, he would have seen the other's lips curve into a smile of half satisfaction and half relief. "Good boy. You've done so well. Let's get you down now."

And he keeps his promise. Soon Till slumps forward as he's unstrapped from the cross, his limbs still numb from having been suspended for so long – Dero helps him to the bed on the other side of the room and makes him lie down while he leaves the bedroom and goes to run a bath for them both. But he's still blindfolded for whatever reason, deprived of sight, and while there are considerably more stimuli present to bring him back into the real world – the sound of the tap running, Dero's scent, his soft soothing murmurs – Till still feels oddly disconnected and at peace, utterly separated from his physical self.

The mattress sinks as Dero comes back and lies down next to him. He's naked too, aroused again at the sight of the older man so helpless and at his mercy, but for once that day he's not just jumping straight to it. "I ought to reward you," Dero murmurs and moves down. "we have time while the bath fills up."

He's right, and Till groans and bucks his hips as his hours-neglected arousal is finally enclosed between his lover's hands and lips, dextrous tongue licking and coaxing, seeking to give him release. A let-down period from enforced submissiveness. And yet – and yet Till still wants more, wanting to document every touch and taste inside him despite the pain, just like the masochist that he is.

"I want you to take me one more time," he says, voice hoarse from disuse. He feels the other's hand pause on his chest.

"I'd have thought an entire day's worth was enough?" Dero inquires. He sounds genuinely suprised. And perhaps in hindsight it is something to be surprised about, considering that they've gone at it like mad all day; quite a feat considering their age.

But it doesn't matter much to Till. True is true.

"No."

There is no ego or superego here. He is pure id in that moment, pure sensation, pure longing.

"Very well."

Despite being the dominant partner, Dero still yields to his every request. In that sense, they are perhaps not in very differing positions after all. In the bedroom, Dero's groans mingling with the sound of running water, Till is filled and is complete once more; he moans out loud, submitting freely to the other's will. He and his younger lover inhabit hedonistic oblivion, both full and empty as a mirror, and he wouldn't give it up for the world.

-----

700 - Liebe ist fur Alle da

Over ten years of knowing someone, and sometimes - just sometimes - you start feeling that even that isn't long enough. In itself this is not a bad thing; the moment you completely stop learning about your significant other is the moment where your relationship starts to unravel, and wanting to know more is a good sign.

But if you genuinely don't know at least the basics about someone after ten years, there is a serious problem. Dero worries about that.

The year is 2005 and Rammstein's latest tour has had to end rather abruptly because of a knee injury Till suffered. Thankfully it's not serious, but the younger man regrets not being able to do more for him - work is work, and he's certainly old enough by this point to know that him running off from the responsibilities of his band isn't going to help anybody. So he bites his lip and does the only thing that could benefit everyone the most in the long term - which is recording ‘GlaubeLiebeTod' as best as he can and finishing the album off in time for his and Till's tenth anniversary.

It's at this point that Dero looks back on their relationship and realizes that Till has only taken full lead while having sex a handful of times. So he offers to give up his dominance this time around. After all, this is a special occasion.

"Take me any time," Dero says. "do anything you want to me."

He thinks this ought to balance out their relationship somewhat. So he's hardly surprised when he's woken up at 3AM to the rhythm of Till fucking him and tugging him roughly by the waist – slamming inside him, Dero slamming against him in return as he moans and rises into consciousness like a swimmer breaking the surface. Just before he fully awakes - this must be what Till feels like whenever he's in the pool – is the thought that goes through his mind; he gasps at the feeling of Till's hardness within him, his legs spread as wide as the bed will allow, breathless, disoriented, trying to locate and assure his existence and failing, drowning in the sensual darkness of sensation.

And yet despite Till being so obviously close to his own climax, he reaches out and lets Dero come first. It admittedly doesn't take much effort – the simple warmth of Till's hand grasping his member is enough, the darkness and the pillow and the older man inside him unlocking the brutal love within his blood as the younger man tosses his head back on the pillows.

It's not that different from when Till was purely a sub. He's still putting Dero before him as always.

"You were too ravishing for me to let you sleep in peace," Till murmurs behind him, bodies locked in a spooning position; his voice is thick with exhausted pleasure, and his fingers trail down the other's chest, pinching ever so gently at a nipple. "was it good for you, Dero?"

It's always been like this.

Till always makes sure that Dero comes before he does.

Till's always calling up and writing letters when he can't do the former.

It's Till who has remained faithful to his band, planning down every detail so his bandmates and Dero will get equal attention. Whenever the older man has to go over to the Oomph! studio, he's always unfailingly polite and keeps out of the way of Andreas and Robert. (So much that they, despite opposition, cannot really find anything bad to say about Till.)

Perhaps Till was right, all those years ago.

The gulf between he and Till seems to widen – a gulf that he didn't know even existed before – because he simply feels so much like a child around him.

"I..." he speaks up, words thick in his mouth. "I... Am I doing okay...?"

Till understands.

"... Would I have stayed with you ten years if you weren't?" Kiss.

"I just... love you so much, I can't lose..."

"You won't. Love is for all, and I love you."

Then they know that never again in their lives will they ever say the same words, with equal feeling, to anybody else.

-----

600 - "Traumst Du?"

Lieber Till,

I hope you are doing well. Bratislava is cold yet homely at this time of year; everyone is fin, Robert has a mild cold but that'll go quickly. Today is the 13th; you must be resting back home now, my calendar tells me that the Rammstein tour ended three days ago. Only a week before I can join you.

Are you doing all right, Till? I only wish I could have gone with you, or that you'd been here with me. There's a lot that gets in the way of that, however, tour dates clashing being the least of it. It's a shame. Being able to talk to your lover on the phone for a few minutes in private... that's not too much to want, but for us, it's a rare privilege.

... I've been having a lot of dreams about us recently; perhaps it's my body's way of protesting the length of time that we've been apart. They're never fully coherent - dreams seldom are - but there are images, recurring images of you and I that excite me and make me tremble. And I have an odd longing to act on them, too.

I want to see you at one of our concerts. I want to see you at the front row just like the way you saw me the first time we ever met eyes. I want to call out your name and have the guards help you beyond the barrier, but then you'd be mine to hold by the hand and pull up onto the stage with me. "Ladies and gentlemen," I'd announce over the mic. "we have a special guest today - Till Lindemann of Rammstein!"

Some might cheer and some might wonder what the hell's wrong with us both, having two rival singers onstage with everything completely unplanned. They don't know about us. They wouldn't. And the best way to remedy that would be to show them.

There are a few ways to do so and I've dreamt all of them. I could serenade you by singing a Rammstein song, showing my respect for you and acknowledging our influence in your sound. I could just flat out tell them, your hand in mine. Or I could unhook the mic from my ear and throw it down, ordering the center stage light to turn on at full blast towards us and undress us both, tossing our clothes into the crowd. I want to make love to you onstage. I want everyone to be watching us in our union, to see you pant and moan as we become one. I want to kiss you, suck you, my stage-makeup streaking against your chest, my cock lodged deep within you, my love for you immeasurable. The audience, voyeurs to more than just our voices for that night; wouldn't that be quite something? And we'd both come out equal, too. Because you'd make it so clear that your submission is precisely because you have so much more control than I do. Then when I wake, I'll be aroused and then seek self-satisfaction in your image. Of course self-satisfaction in terms is a contradiction – but I take mild amusement and comfort that playing with myself is a valid way of seeking release even at thirty-two years old.

Berlin and Bratislava are in the same time zone.

Dream with me tonight, Till, my mentor, my beloved, my muse.

Lieber Dero,

You spirited child, you. Shouldn't you be focusing on the concerts instead of having erotic dreams about me?

... Come home soon, meine Liebe.

Your Till awaits you anxiously.

-----

500 - Glaube/Liebe/Tod

Being a submissive partner has its drawbacks, especially when the dominant partner takes that as an invitation to request sex whenever he so desires. Both Till and Dero have aged since their first meeting, but the latter still has a lot to learn and seven years' worth of wisdom that he has to catch up to. But seeing as the new direction their relationship has taken needs some getting used to, the fact of the matter is that Till tends to let it be whenever he's being childishly pleading.

Dero supposes that he's becoming rather spoilt. Though he doesn't mind that. He has faith that Till will steer him back whenever he's veering too far from the path.

The younger man's thirtieth birthday starts off when Dero wakes Till up at 12AM by rubbing the spot between his legs with one hand and gently mouthing at a nipple; without even opening his eyes the older man knows what the other wants, and seeing as it's a special day for him, he doesn't try to resist.

"What, you want your treat already?" he does ask, however.

"Treats, plural. I expect more than just this. I mean, I'm never going to be thirty again," Dero murmurs against his skin, and then lightly pats the erection straining against the other's boxers. "gimme."

"Work for it, then," Till replies lazily. Dero huffs a little, but nevertheless tugs down the boxers, spreads his legs and buries his face in the older man's lap without further complaint; without realizing it he groans in pleasure, knowing that there is more, much more awaiting him that day. This is just the start.

As Till writhes beneath him he admires the other's toned body, taut with pleasure and yet holding back at the same time as if in self-preservation. The struggle between Eros and Thanatos is eternal; the life force and the death drive, deadlocked in the curious feeling that people call love. One thing Dero's noticed over the year or so that they've been having sex is that Till is always very loud when he comes, clutching at the younger man and screaming out his pleasure, an unnaturally harsh noise that wouldn't be out of place amidst their musical genre. It is not a sensual sound. Sensuality is life, an embrace between Eros and the body that immobilizes the senses in delight. No, Till's screams are more akin to cries of triumph, the celebration of Thanatos - banishing all contradictions, emotions, leaving none but the thrill of a petit-mort and the dangerous purity of his desire/will/love taking control. Sure enough, soon Dero moans deep in his throat as his mouth is filled with the first taste of the other's sweet nectar and Till's back arches in the most delightful way as he reaches his climax, one of his countless little deaths, letting out a cry that could double as the erotic final note of a song.

Some would die for their art. Till dies as part of it.

-----

400 - "Anniversary"

"Till... s-stärker..."

Strange how their very first night of lovemaking occurs when Dero is least expecting it, when lust was the main reason he was drawn to Till in the first place. Invited over to Till's apartment to celebrate the fourth year since they began seeing each other, Dero's currently lying on the floor in the most undignified position. "A rip-off," he's complaining as Till dabs lotion onto his biceps. "all I wanted was a small addition and he can't even do that without ravaging my skin. I'm never visiting that tattooist again."

"Don't move your arms too much. You're hurting."

"Oh... pfft, worry is... the most... most spectacularly unsexy thing ever..."

"That's what you get for running off for a tattoo in the middle of a date. Just hold still."

Dero tries. As the lotion is rubbed in and Till massages his shoulders to try to ease the other's mind, though, he can't help but realize how warm the older man's hands are against his body. He's flushed at the sensation of it, the old lust coming back – and Till must have noticed it too because suddenly the shoulder massage is turning into a cock massage and he doesn't even have the presence of mind to be surprised.

"But... but it... feels so good..."

One thing's led to another. And now Dero's coming harder than ever, Till riding the younger man, pinning them both down with his weight; he's digging his fingernails into the carpet and screaming, screaming Till's name louder than he has ever screamed anyone's name in ecstasy before. Without even waiting for Dero to finish coming Till moves off, the other's member slipping out of him as he kneels down; ignoring the ache in his arms, the younger man heaves himself up and takes Till's length in his mouth, groaning as he tastes what he's wanted to taste for a long time. It isn't very long before he, too, comes with a loud cry and spills his essence into Dero's mouth. He can't swallow it all, but that hardly matters.

"This isn't the last time," Till whispers, and then goes to shower. But before that, he makes sure to kiss and drape a blanket around the other's body.

Years from now on, Andreas will look at Dero exasperatedly and ask whether he's ever going to stop getting tattoos.

Dero will only smile mysteriously in response.

-----

300 - Ego

... When he thinks about it, Dero has to marvel at himself. When he first approached Till, way back in 1995, he certainly hadn't expected to court the man for more than a night, let alone weeks. But now the year is 1998 and they've still not gotten anywhere near where Dero expected them to be.

Well, that's not quite true; they have progressed. But Till's insisted that they start as if they never knew each other from a competing NDH group beforehand. That means no relationship as admirer-and-admired; instead they've started from scratch, telling each other about previous careers, families and the like. All things that Dero would have dismissed as unnecessary before.

Standing at the Arrivals gate of Berlin-Tegel with a bouquet of flowers, however, he mulls over this - and decides that those thoughts don't count. Like it or not, he and the older man have built up something lasting – and three years on, it is far too late for him to turn back.

Somehow, though. He doesn't mind that.

Six familiar men walk through the gates as he's pondering this; recognizing them instantly, he half-raises his arm as if to wave, but then thinks better of it and hurriedly goes over to them instead. "Oh, Herr Dero Goi," Paul exclaims with a smile once he sees him; Dero smiles back. "it's nice to see you again!"

He ought to answer, but he's too fixated on Till. The man's become handsomer since he left on tour; Dero (for a moment) just looks, looks at his silvery hair, firm-set lips, and his clear-green eyes, feeling his heart skip. But eventually he holds out the bouquet. "...Willkommen zurück."

"Why, hello," Till murmurs coyly, careful to keep the flowers between them as Dero lowers his head in shyness. "hello, you."

-----

200 - "Spiel Mit Mir"

"Guten Abend, Herr Goi. Did you enjoy the show?"

He expected this. Of course Rammstein knows what he looks like. "Very much," he says coolly as he lays his copy of ‘Herzeleid' down. "for simple newcomers to the scene, you're doing well."

"Danke. How flattering of you."

"Right now I'm not here to be your rival," he leans in, lowering his voice sultrily. "... play with me tonight."

Till just looks at him.

"... Play with you, indeed. Wouldn't have expected much from a boy like you."

Dero, indignant, opens his mouth to protest - but then Till smiles, and it's such an unexpectedly disarming and honest smile that he quite forgets what to say. "Da," the older man presses the album into his hands. "if you're interested... I've written it all down for you."

He doesn't understand what Till means; but he looks down, and on the back of the cover (along with the man's signature) is written the name of a café, along with '12:00PM'. A lunch date.

"Let's get to know each other."

... In a café that's an hour away from his studio.

But anyone playing this hard to get is worth the wait, surely.

"All right."

-----

100 - Sehnsucht

He wasn't expecting this at his first Rammstein concert, but he's in it now and in it deep.

Till Lindemann's voice is phenomenal. Sexy. They've got the NDH scene grasped more securely than Oomph!; Dero should be a rival.

But tonight, he hears Till in the front row and he simply hungers for him.

Tonight, he is a fan.

Fire. Till looks at him.

Longing. Dero licks his lower lip.

(If Dero can't have the genre that Oomph! started in the first place, he can still have him.)

Shadows around the arena.

(And God, he will.)

Heart aflame with desire.
-------------------------------------------------------
006 - "Such Mich / Find Mich"
Tattooed arms / green eyes; breaths catch.
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This fic is an experiment in reverse chronology via drabbles. Read either from 1000 to 100 words or vice versa, it's designed to flow and make perfect sense, telling the same story. But as for the forward order, I specifically chose it to illustrate the process of memory - the older your memory is, the less of the details you'd remember. But what you remember must have been particularly intense for you to have remembered it for that long in the first place. I tried to capture that.
The format is 'song - album with said song', and it was a pain actually trying to find songs and ordering them to make sense into the general plot, taking wordcount into consideration as well. I think I spent over half an hour just deciding on the damn titles x_x I'm aware that 'Brennende Liebe' was originally a single, but it appears in the reissue of 'Wahrheit oder Pflicht', so I've assigned it to that album. The six-word story up there, 'Such Mich / Find Mich' is an Oomph! song and present in their newest album 'Des Wahnsinns Fette Beute'.
Lord only knows I couldn't think of a drabble for an album title that translates to 'The Fat Booty of Madness', however ._. (But please check it out it is a REALLY GOOD ALBUM)
Away from the technical details. For a lengthy Till/Dero stitched together in the fashion of 'Montage', I don't think I did too badly, taking all of the above challenges into account. I specifically wrote them out of any order to eliminate any possibility that they'd make more sense read in one specific direction than the other. I hope that it was clear and evident that the relationship was sub!Till/dom!Dero with the latter simply needing to be taught how to be a good dom. After all. A dom/sub relationship works with the mutual assurance that both parties are in the main position of power - subs believe that they're in control enough to let the other partner do what they want, and doms believe that they're in control enough to pleasure their sub without hurting them. It's not the same dynamic I presented with 'The Precipice of Sensation' with Richard and Dero, but hopefully just as well-written and erotic.
I'm very proud of 'Glaube/Liebe/Tod'. It was easy to match 500 words, and it's the most faithful-to-title piece in this collection, I feel. If you have especially sharp eyes, you might also have noticed that the first and last sentences of the fic (respectively) correspond to the titles of the last and first drabble. I love working in little bits of structure play like those.
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The Momentary Collapse of Duality