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...and all the sinners, [are] saints!	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2308 -:- 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-Hope I
- 2-Love (Chastity)
- 3-Anger
- 4-Jealousy
- 5-Sloth
- 6-Greed
- 7-Lust
- 8-Gluttony
- 9-Charity
- 10-Vanity
- 11-Hope II
- 10
- 11
Title: ...and all the sinners, [are] saints! (10/10)
Author: Mr. Naked
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Till/Christoph
Summary: Hope II
Disclaimer: If this happened for real, I'd like to know too!
Archiving: Only with my express permission.
Inspired by: Apocalyptica - “Hope”, “Beyond Time”, “Kaamos”.
Special thanks to my betas Minx & Natt

X – Hope (II)

“Just as every cop is a criminal,
And all the sinners, saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Lucifer
’cause I’m in need of some restraint”
- The Rolling Stones: “Sympathy For The Devil” -

“Look, he's leaving the hotel!” Richard snaps and turns from the window. “Damn, Schneider lost his fucking minds. We don't have time for this kind of shit. We have to get ready to go to the concert venue and he's going for walks!”

“Maybe I should go fetch him,” I mumble, putting out my cig.

“No, I'll go,” Richard decides and storms out of the room before I even get to answer.

Few minutes later Flake shows up and tells me that we have to go.

“Where's Schneider?”

He wants to know.

“He just left and Richard went to fetch him.”

And, right before the concert, when we are getting ready, Olli comes to me and asks me the same question. Richard and Schneider seemed to have disappeared.

“Maybe we should call them,” I suggest.

“No, Richard left his phone in his room, and I've picked it. And Schneider doesn't answer his,” Olli replies.

He pauses and looks at me; a weird stern look.

“They won't be up for anything,” I whisper, trying to comfort him.

But, while pronouncing those words, the cold blade of this dagger named doubt and jealousy slides inside my heart too, making my guts cringe.

Another opportunity to lash myself with harsh thoughts for not daring to tell Christoph. No, I still haven't made my mind yet, about what I want. I want to, and I don't want to, in the same time. To start a thing with him. A big, old and frightened man, that's what I am. Standing on the edge of the bridge, the chord tied to my ankles, yet I am reluctant, whether to make the jump or not. I'm so tempted to go for it, but the sight of the crevasse and the void under my feet, makes me freeze of fear. The fear of breaking my neck once I've left the relative safety of the ground and all my life begins to depend on this elastic thin thread.

“Where the fuck are those idiots?” Paul snaps near me.

When did he appear here?

I throw him an annoyed glare and go for a smoke.

All this game of “hold me tight, let me loose” I've been playing with him is starting to turn against me. But that's the only thing comfortable enough to me that I can do. And he's been doing the same to me, too. First telling me he won't fuck with me, then he makes it that he still wants me.

Olli comes and tells me that they are back, so I have to throw the half smoked cig, and, along with it, all my thoughts about anything else beside our performance tonight. I follow Olli along the hallways, without saying any word.

I don't get the time to ask what and how, we all just go for it. By Richard's facial expression, right before they get on the stage, I figure that there'll be some fighting and some yelling after we're done here.

We don't have time even for that, though, with all this rushing around; our evening isn't over yet, among other things there's the after-show party that I don't feel like to attend. In spite of that, I decide to go for it when hearing that Christoph is going too. Maybe he'll tell me what was going on with Richard. Not that he'd owe me an answer, but there's this little worm inside my heart that makes me restless and jumpy, eating me inside.

“It took you pretty long to get back,” I manage to slip to Richard between drinks, laughters, talks and pictures taking at the party.

Richard throws a wide smile to one of the female participants, then he turns his face toward me. He's wearing this extremely serious look in his eyes that almost makes me burst into laughter. Probably because of the drinks I've had so far.

“Nothing happened, Till,” he assures me. “We only had a little fight and then talked things out. That's all.”

“All right, then,” I mutter, but he grabs my arm, forcing me to look at him for few seconds.

“I didn't figure that you and him...” He whispers. “But nothing happened.”

I don't say anything for another few seconds, so he releases my hand.

“Just be careful with him,” he pronounces voiceless on the tip of his lips.

“You still care about...?”

“I care about all of us, and you know that,” he throws at me as he's moving away, to another group of participants.

I'm inclined to believe him, yet, the worm is still there, chewing on my heart. My whole being refuses to enjoy the drinks and the fun time I'm supposed to have here. And the fact that Christoph isn't even throwing me at least one quick glance, it's just making it worse. Guess it's time to retreat, go and drink my mind off, alone, shut somewhere in the dark with only my thoughts and musings. So, when I see the opportunity, I sneak out of that place, planning about how to grab a bottle of hard liquor and get to my room.

When I'm finally near my door, with the bottle in my hand, I pick the sounds of the steps of someone walking on the hallway. Somehow, I know that it must be him, so I turn around.

“Are you following me?” I ask him when he gets near me.

“No,” he replies shortly.

He stops there, in front of me, hesitating, yet not saying anything.

“What took you so long to get to the venue?” I question him, trying to sound as casual as I can.

He has this sudden movement of his head and starts grinning.

“Are you jealous?” He asks.

I grab the door knob behind me and push it open.

If I answer him, he will... If I don't answer him, I will...

“Want to have a drink with me?” I invite him.

He tilts his head, seeming undecided whether to accept or not.

Or maybe it's just another game of his.

“Well, my door is always open,” I say after a while and enter my room, turning the lights on.

I leave the door open behind me and start searching in the room for the glasses. I don't look toward the door, but I know that he's still there, watching me.

I open the bottle, get a glass and pour some drink in it, and take a sip. I take another empty glass and put it on the table, near the bottle and then take a sit on the chair beside the table. I get my cigs out and light one. I drag the first smoke and then look at the door again.

Yes, he is still there, standing in the threshold, watching me with an expression of amusement on his face.

I take another gulp of my drink and recline better in my chair. I should say something to him, but I can't think of anything good, right now. I could ask him in, again, but what would be the use? So I keep drinking and smoking, from time to time throwing a glance toward him, to check if he's still there.

Yes, he is. I can't stop myself from scanning his slim silhouette, his face, so relaxed, seeming to be glowing with some unknown to me inner joy, even if he looks awfully tired. We all are awfully tired.

This exhausted smile starts rising on my face, before I realize it.

He starts to smile back at me - a ray of sun insinuating in this arctic desert I'm carrying around with me and I call it my soul. Tired eye lids cover my eyes for few seconds, as I feel my face like bathed into a gentle spring sun.

This sound of a slammed door brings me brutally back to reality. I open my eyes wide, scared, but no, he's inside my room and with few steps he's standing in front of me, grabbing my face with both hands, lifting my chin and capturing my lips between his, before I get a chance to react. He opens his mouth wider, and thrusts his tongue between my teeth, he tilts his head, keeping my face prisoner of his palms, as he is kissing me. Then, just as abruptly, he breaks from the kiss.

“Let's finish with it, already!” He whispers looking straight at me with deep blue sparkling eyes. He takes the cig off from my fingers, he puts his legs on each side of my thighs and sits on my lap, bringing my face closer again to his, as he inclines again and starts again to kiss me.

It feels like something snaps in this icy place in my heart, something forcing me to let go, close my eyes and throw myself into this turmoil. To close my eyes and allow myself to be kissed; to rub my hands along his back and clench my fingers over his shoulder blades, to welcome him.

To allow myself to want him, as he releases my face and sneaks his fingers down on me, to lift my t-shirt, so he can place these warm and a bit sweaty palms of his on my bare skin.

I feel like I'm holding in my arms this hot, shivering with desire flame, burning me with its touches, too strong fire for me to resist it. I know it will consume me entirely, but I'm giving in to it.

He emits these muffled moans as he's kissing me deeply, as he's rubbing his thighs against mine, and caressing my chest with his hands. I embrace him, pulling him even closer; with rushed movements he manages to lift my t-shirt even more so he can bow his head and start playing his tongue on my chest and to suck on my nipples.

And I'm arching my back to offer him more of myself, while I'm pushing his head down. I'm thinking of something, but I don't dare to tell him like I'm afraid to ruin the moment. So, I keep quiet, enjoying the touch of his hand checking my cock through the fabric of my pants. I straighten my back a bit, and place a kiss on his head, over his longish dark curled hair as he bends to kiss my chest again while unzipping my pants with one hand.

With his other hand, he takes my palm and places it over his crotch, caressing with it his own hardening cock. Then, he has this sudden movement, grabbing me closer to his chest, like wanting to make sure I'm still here. He folds his fingers on the back of my head, and forces me to lean it backward so my mouth can receive another hot and hungry kiss of his. He detaches from the kiss, and squeezes me again in his arms, while he caresses my face with his own.

“You have no fucking idea how much I love you, you crooked bastard!” He emits this hoarse growl into my ear.

I squeeze him in my arms too, laughing quietly, amused, like I just got reunited with this old good friend after long years of separation.

He jumps on his feet, surprising me again with his sudden movement.

“Where's it?” He asks with a rusty voice.

“What?”

“The lube?” He hisses.

For an unknown reason to me I hesitate to answer. I only look at him in silence, studying his red flushed face, his messed black hair...

“Stop calculating everything, for once, Till!” He whispers.

Yes, just go with the flow... I'm still standing on the edge of the bridge, having second thoughts about throwing myself into the void under my feet.

“You're thinking too much,” he whispers again making me smile.

He goes to my luggage and starts fumbling through my things, looking for that tube.

He's right, why do I always have to split the hair into four?

I put my elbows on my thighs and cover my face with my palms. I squeeze my eyes, like wanting to be away from here. Like trying to regain the strength to tighten back my grip on things, on myself. I could just fuck him and move on. But there's this god damn thing inside me that tells me that it's more into this. Something that forces me not to do such a thing, telling me that it can't be another way, it's or I jump into this, or I step back, once and for all.

And, as shut in the darkness behind my closed eyes as I am, I still can hear his voice as he's talking to me.

“We just fuck now. What will be next, we'll see tomorrow.”

His rushed dry whisper penetrates through to me.

I take my hands off my face and look at him, as he's sitting crouched, focused on searching through that damn suitcase. His arched back hypnotizes my view, I feel my palm tingling as I'm tempted to get over there and caress that curve.

So I stand up and walk quietly to him and kneel behind him. I raise my hand slowly, and place it on his waist, moving it over his spine, upward to his neck.

Under my touch I feel his fibers shaking as he simpers.

“Got it!” He says right before I clutch my fingers into his hair, and jerk his head.

He growls, falling on his all fours. I'm above him, he's under my control as I grab his arms and position his hands on the floor. I unfasten and pull down his jeans with brutal movements, intoxicated by his scent, and his body quivering under my chest.

“Till...”

No, there's no Till anymore; it's just this crazed animal, this torch that he lit and now he is going to get devoured by it.

I pull his pants down, then snatch the tube off his hand. I spread some lube over my stiffened cock. I grab his ass with my oily palm, lubing his hole, shoving my finger in, to probe him. He groans. He doesn't fight, but I can figure he's uncomfortable.

And, fuck, I do like it!

It stirs me even more, when he growls deeply, as I slam my cock into him with only one movement. It gets me even harder to feel him shaking under me, as I thrust again, to hear him whimper, all that flesh flinching under me as I pound again. He has this attempt to rise, but I cling my fingers onto the back of his neck to hold him submissively. And I push inside him even harsher, with each thrust, and he entices my hearing with guttural moans, following each time I slide inside him. I squeeze harder the back of his neck; he cringes under me, his muscles tensing around my cock and under my touch, igniting me even more. He's not trying to escape, yet he grunts in pain, as I'm forcing myself even more inside him. I'm arching my back, while pushing his body downward, to get him to open himself more for me. I'm like rising to the stars, he moans like he gets his flesh ripped off bit by bit, by this insane beast that sniffed blood and now is feasting on him. And the insane beast ceases to have any control over himself, consumed by this fiery demon the man under me awakened. And the demon takes over, rising and electrifying my whole body; I don't see, I don't hear; my whole body tenses like a spring ready to unwind, my head leaned back, my eyes closed. And there it is, this eruption, as I feel every bit of me being dissipated and sent to all the corners of the universe.

Then it all becomes still and quiet. I'm holding, with eyes still closed, like waiting for each bit of me to regroup. I hear my roughened breathing; I hear his harsh breathing. I'm unclasping my fingers, one by one, off his neck. I dare to open my eyes, to look in front of me through this mist covering my pupils. I pull myself out of him with only one harsh movement, and he whimpers loudly.

I stand up, one leg, then the other. I make the effort to pull my own weight, and then to move back to my chair and collapse in it.

I tuck my cock back and zip my pants. Christoph turns and sits on the floor, wearing this shocked glance in his eyes.

“Well, I gave you what you wanted,” I feel this stupid need to explain, while I take my glass off the table and sip a bit from it, to calm my hoarse throat.

He sits motionless with an expression of disbelief on his face. I have the impulse to tell him to fuck off, but I hold it and light a cig, instead.

I'm so empty now, emptier than before. I have only this hatred clenching like a claw over my heart. I hate him for making me let loose. I hate him for making me believe even for one second that something nice might come out of this whole shit. I hate him for being able to get through to me.
I hate him for making me hope.

I drag another smoke and then expel it upward as I'm looking at the ceiling. I can't bear the sight of him, right now.

I hear him standing, and, by the sound of fabric, I figure he's arranging his clothes. Good, he'll be gone soon and leave me the fuck alone. And he'll stay away from now on!

I clench my jaws and squeeze my eyelids.

I hear him making a move. Stepping. I turn my head not to face the direction where I know he is. But he's making another step, getting closer. My nostrils get filled with his warm scent and the scent of fuck. Of sweat too.

He's too close, drugging my mind again. But I refuse to face him.

Then, I feel the warm soft touch of his fingers coiling around my hand that I keep on the table, holding the glass. And he takes my hand in his, while he sits back, again, on my lap. He lays all his weight gently and warm over my thighs.

I sense him leaning and then he plants a kiss on my cheek, making me turn my head and face him.
He looks at me, with serene eyes, his calmness almost frightening me. He frees my hand and gets my glass off the table and drinks from it, then he puts it back. He smiles in the corner of his mouth, exhausted, yet so understanding.

“So... Till likes it rough,” he grins and winks at me.

I drag a smoke from my cig so I won't allow my mouth to answer him.

“Till thinks that if he acts nasty, he'd push me away,” he adds.

“You're one demented fuck, Schneider,” I whisper, shaking my head, forcing myself not to smile.

He raises one eyebrow and throws me this lustful glance.

“That's why you love me,” he sighs, drained.

He becomes serious out of a sudden, closes his eyes and lays his forehead on my shoulder.

Yes, that's why I love him, I tell myself, while running my fingers through his hair.

I embrace him, holding him tight to my chest so I'd never lose him.

The End
- 10
- 11
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...and all the sinners, [are] saints!