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Regen (Rain)	By : maybebaby Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2556 -:- 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
- 10
- 11
- 12
Title: Regen (Rain) 11/28
Author: akasha6
Beta and co-writer: Mr Naked
Translation: lisa_thecat
Rating: NC 17
Pairing: Till/Richard, Richard/Christoph, Christoph/Paul, Till/Gert
Disclaimer: None of this is true, it's all work of fiction.
Warning: This story contains imagery and ideas that some might find gory, immoral and possibly offending. (violence, BDSM, non-consensual sex, incest)

The author would like to thank Mr Naked for the wonderful job he did as a beta and co-writer and to lisa_thecat for the translation.

Chapter 11

Ten minutes later Richard couldn’t stand it anymore. He tried remove Till’s arm carefully off his chest, freeing himself. So he pushed the arm, but the hand only slid down, along his abdomen to end up resting on a very sensitive place of Richard’s body.

“Fucking great!” Richard mumbled annoyed by the pressure in his bladder and the fact that he didn’t dare to wake up Till. And, on top of all that, Till’s gentle and warm breath against the bare skin of his chest, and the weight of that hand, both had caused another reaction, a stir in his pants.

“Fuck!” He hissed, but then he tried to calm himself thinking that it’s just a reflex. There was no actual chance of appeasing that.

After another try to escape his confinement, Richard finally resigned himself and stared again at the ceiling. He could feel through the pretty tough leather of his pants the warmth of Till’s hand and even if everything inside him was revolting against it, Richard couldn’t lie to himself that it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. The hand moved in sleep, making Richard to moan softly, slowly becoming almost desperate.

“Ok – outside it keeps raining, I must piss, on top of me lays this bastard and I have a hard-on. It couldn’t get worse than that.” Richard was now determined to put an end to this situation.

“Hey, Till,” he said loudly and he raised his head so he could look at his face.

Till wasn’t waking up, though. Richard became even more aware of the effect had Till’s hot breath against his naked skin. That made him nervous. It made him feel that his member was growing even harder. He turned his head as if attempting to bury his face in the softness of the pillow.

Five more torturous minutes followed, and then Till’s hand wandered further between Richard’s thighs. Till still snored softly and happily, completely ignorant of Richard’s distress, though.

Richard lifted his head off the pillow and looked downward, at Till. There were longish, dark strands of hair hiding his face and eyes from Richard’s inquisitive look. So he stretched his arm and carefully placed his fingers on Till’s forehead. Then, after few seconds of motionless, Richard’s hand caressed away those strands, so he could watch those relaxed face features, that mouth slightly open breathing against his skin. But he didn’t stop, his fingers wandered further, following the black lines of Tills eyebrows, to his right temple, sliding then behind the right ear, to sink tenderly into the thick black hair.

*

Warmth. Safety. Feelings that Till thought to be lost forever. A slow awakening.

The endless soft tap of the rain. Every day’s rain. The tears of an angel.

Must he raise God’s anger? Even in heaven there were angels with fire and swords.
But his angel was different. Innocent yet all sin - Richard. Richard?

In a heartbeat Till was fully awake. His eyes opened wide – blue, cold scanners checking the surroundings. On his left side, under his left side, he felt the sturdy warmth of a human, alive body. Richard! Richard was lying beneath him; this meant exactly under him. That wasn’t good.

There was also something, someone was caressing his head and playing through his hair. Richard again. But when Till moved, that hand retreated in a fast, scared movement. Till turned and looked Richard in his eyes. Both men remained still, fixing each other with their glares. Then, there was like something pulled Till back on Earth.

“I was cold,” he started, but then he felt awkward. “I must have moved in the sleep,” he tried a different line, but then he felt like an idiot; he was an idiot, why the fuck did he have to explain himself, to justify his action, even if he wasn’t aware of them?

“Would you be so kind to get you hand off my crotch?” Richard asked, instead, but on a feeble voice, contrasting with his words.

“Oh, sorry!” And Till looked so terribly embarrassed as he was moving his hand; Richard was looking surprised by that reaction – that big man, with such muscular and strong body, that could overpower anyone he would have wanted, that man was turning his gaze away from him, lowering his eyelids, as if to hide all those feelings of awkwardness and embarrassment. Even his movements to stand from the bed were in such manner so Richard wouldn’t see his facial expression.

Richard stood up too, with cautious movements – his limbs were numb, his back felt as if the skin has been peeled off, his wrists were swollen, and bruised. He remained sat on the bed for few seconds as he looked again at Till – the fact that this one didn’t look as if he’d felt better didn’t actually soothe his pain.

Their glances met furtively and there is was again: that feeling that he could sink in those eyes like two oceans of sadness, blue like the sky and dark like hell. Richard could see both there. He felt droplets of sweat running down his back.

“How long?” He asked standing up but without taking his eyes off Till.

“What do you mean?”

“Until they take me again?”

“Barely two hours. We have to talk, Richard.”

“What is there to talk about, Till? Do you want to ask me if you were right? Yes, you were right. I really wished I’ve never been born.” Richard’s voice sounded bitter.

Without adding another word, he went straight to the bathroom, entered it, and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Shit!”

Till’s sharp whisper lashed the silence in the room accompanied by the constant drumming of the rain outside. He looked at the windows. At the thick bars, that reminded him of how his life was – he was living in a golden cage, a prison. He had endured it for long years and now he had brought an innocent soul here, and he had to make sure that at least Richard got away from here.

Till went straight to the window and opened it with a single, determined movement. The bars were dark, shiny with the rainwater, yet impossible to remove like the mountains. There was no chance of escaping from there. Not through there he had to find a different breech for his getaway.

The door to the bathroom swung open, making Till almost jump, suddenly pulled from his thoughts.

“Come here, if you want to talk,” he heard Richard’s soft voice coming from the bathroom.

What?

Till hesitated, then turned around and walked to the bathroom.

He stopped in the threshold of the door. Shocked.

Richard was in there, standing, facing him, and naked. First reaction was to stare, to what was displayed for his eyes, but then he realized what he was doing and turned his gaze. He looked at Richard’s face, instead. But he realized he wasn’t ready to confront neither his nakedness, nor that look in his eyes.

“I’ll wait until you’re finished,” Till muttered, fighting to smother that anger, and to hide even that, he brushed his fingers through his fringe. He was caught off guard again. Twice in less than an hour. He turned to leave.

“You said you have something to talk with me about.” Richard insisted. “Or are you afraid of me,” he added turning and stepped into the shower.

Till stood motionless, still not believing the effect this man had on him. Then, for whatever reason, he recalled of his first time, his first time with another man. He was only 16, and that guy was one of his father’s friends. He lost his innocence and his laugh at that day.

This time it was different, though. The butterflies in his stomach were slowly starting to flutter their wings and he felt a bit dizzy. The air in the room was hot and humid and made him sweat. Richard turned on the hot water; it sprayed on the shower’s glass walls and on the floor tiles, at Till’s feet. It sprayed on the muscles on Richard’s broad back, making his skin look as if covered in tiny diamonds. Till’s mouth was dry; he bit his lips to keep in there that moan stuck in his throat.

Richard turned to face him; Till couldn’t prevent himself to glimpse from time to time to that half erect cock – most likely the effect of the shower.

“What is it that you wanted to tell me?” Richard asked, leaning a bit backward so the water would wet his hair and body.

“They want to see us together tonight,” escaped Till’s hoarse throat. That wasn’t what he wanted to say. But he went on, as he was staring at Richard spreading the gel all over his chest, then his hair – “You know what I mean.” He added.

Those so well defined pectorals, that abdomen – how the hell have this man got to become a junkie?

“If you want to get out of here, you have to let me do all the talking,” Till started again, on a more sure of himself tone.

Richard cleansed the gel off his back, and then stepped out of the water.

“Are we going to fuck for an audience?” He asked, and Till could sense some lewd inserts in his tone.

“There will be only a cam in our room, above the bed,” Till explained a bit irritated. “The idea is that we have to give them a good show so they wouldn’t put us back in the cellar. When things calm down, I will try to get you out of here.”

Richard turned again, to cleanse the gel off his front part of the body and hair. Till watched him, the curves the muscles made as Richard moved, the shadows cast on his glittering skin, the black hairs on his legs. Never before had Till waited so desperately for an answer.

Richard turned the water off suddenly, and faced Till.

“You are not allowed to kiss me,” Richard decided, and stepped out of the shower toward Till. A sad smile was playing on the corner of his mouth. He stopped in front of Till, and lifted his chin with his index finger. “Are we clear about that?”

Till held his gaze and swallowed hard. Caught off guard. Once again yet.

“I’ll try,” came his hoarse whisper.

“You won’t!”

“I will try my best. I can”

“Till,” Richard interrupted him. His eyes darkened; his index finger traveled gently along Till’s neck, over his chest, through the black hairs, to his navel.

“OK.” He answered almost inaudibly.
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Regen (Rain)