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Vision im Spiegel	By : kimbk Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2416 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
Author's Note: Ever look at Silence and think that sex ought to have been in the picture?
Because it sure is, now. Please enjoy. <333333333333333333
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Richard's day starts off when he's shaken awake by Till at around half-past eight in the morning. "We've got to hurry," the older man tells him briskly; he's already cleaned up somewhat despite being in a dressing-gown, shaved and his hair tidied to an acceptable extent. For someone who doesn't even like photoshoots nor interviews, he sure has gotten ready quickly. "change of plans, Paul just called me. It's been moved forward an hour - I don't know if that means we can leave earlier, but either way, breakfast's on the table..."
Tired and disoriented, the only thing the guitarist can manage to do is let out a low groan and bury himself back in the blankets. He doesn't know it, but his body language is sluggish and giving every impression of a man who's not in the best of health; seeing this, the older man pauses. It's not a playful pause. Richard immediately feels regretful about keeping silent and hurriedly thinks of something to say, but he's still so tired that he can barely do anything but open his eyes slightly and stare ahead at Till.
"... Are you not feeling well?"
"... Hmm?"
"Don't be ill," Till says, and he suddenly looks so concerned that all thoughts of sleep are eliminated from Richard's mind. "I can't be ill in your place, as much as I want to, Richard. I don't ever want you to suffer from-"
"No, no, it's not that," the guitarist says hurriedly, sitting up and gazing into the other's worried face. "don't worry about me, Till... I'm just lounging around, that's all."
Not yet taking the guitarist's word for it, Till reaches out and presses the back of his hand onto the other's forehead, checking that he hasn't got a temperature; Richard is exactly about as warm as he ought to be, no more and no less, and it's only when he confirms this that he relaxes and lowers his hand. "Tut mir leid," he says, sounding much more relieved, if somewhat abashed. "I just can't abide the thought of you as ill."
"It's all right. I was just tired. And you have to admit, the having-to-be-early-by-another-hour was somewhat out of the blue."
"Indeed. You can manage today?"
"Till, if I can't manage it, who can?"
This makes the singer laugh and relax considerably. "Fair point," he acknowledges as he pats the guitarist on the shoulder. "you were always better prepared for those things. It's not going to be much different this time once you're properly awake, I suppose. As I said, breakfast's on the table."
Richard nods and gets out of bed, feeling sufficiently awake after that little episode. The two men get ready in relative silence, only speaking up to confirm a few things or ask a question (or in the guitarist's case, complimenting Till on how fresh the ham and cold cuts for breakfast are); the clock's soon ticking ten in the morning and they're nearly done packing up their needed costumes for the day.
"Ach, verdammt! They're here already, Schneider just texted... let's hurry, Risch, if you're done just go ahead..."
It's not quite fast enough, however. Displeased at how hurried they're being forced to be, Richard nevertheless grabs his costume, his jacket and a sufficiently big enough bag to stuff everything inside and leaves the apartment first, a whole five minutes ahead of Till; his bandmates don't know that they're in a relationship yet and now's not exactly the time to tell them or even give away hints as to whether they are. He turns a corner and sees the tour bus parked in a place as inconspicuous as any parking place for buses can be, and grins as he waves at the driver.
"Guten Morgen, Herr Kruspe."
"Guten Morgen," he returns the greeting cheerfully as he walks up the steps and boards the bus, soon being greeted by the others. "hello there. How're you all doing?"
"Oh, perfectly well," Paul grins; he's the one who gets up and actually hugs Richard to greet him, giving him a slap on the back. "much of the same as before, we're just enjoying the rest. Was, rather, until today! We should be asking you the question?"
"Oh?"
Schneider waves and winks at him from his bunk. "How's things going, now that you've been with Till for a month?"
They clearly expect him to confess or become just embarrassed enough for them to be able to gently tease him; Richard however just shrugs in false nonchalance, knowing better than to fall for it. "Things are going well," he says. "he's a great flatmate. I really do ought to be moving out sometime soon, though, I don't want to burden him too much, not when both of us are getting on in years-"
"But he'll miss you!"
"I'll miss him, too," Richard sighs, and assumes such a conflicted expression that his bandmates would think that he's still torn between his anxiety and his liking for Till. And it's not really false, that nervousness regarding the possibility that he might be imposing too much on the older man is not a factor that will likely ever go away. Nevertheless, with Paul's resolute expression, sending him the message - Go for it already, Kruspe! - and the playful impatience of the others, he does decide that he and Till should be discussing making their relationship known to them. Ideally they should know all at once, because they are a band and single unit before anything else; Richard does feel a stronger urge to tell Paul and Olli first, though, simply because they confronted him first and because they just look so eager-
"Oh, here he comes!"
Till boards the bus and nods at all of them briskly. "Guten Morgen," he says, smiling at them before walking over to his bunk and rolling over on it; he doesn't pay Richard much attention, as expected. The older man's presence effectively changes the subject to something that's not their relationship, and as the bus starts up Richard is immensely grateful for that.
Sorry, guys, he thinks to himself, now's not the time, not just yet.
Till gives him the briefest of nods, and Richard returns it expressionlessly; but his heart is beating rapidly, and he has to lie down and close his eyes to hide it from the rest of his bandmates.
Patience, Richard. Only a few hours, then you'll be alone with him again. Then you can do everything that you've dreamed of. Waiting paid off with Till, didn't it?
Be patient, just one more time.
-----
But things aren't quite that simple.
Richard sighs as he walks down the corridor to the dressing room. The session being moved forward an hour, while much needed, hasn't had any effect on when they might be allowed to leave. All that work and no extra time off to show for it. He'd thought it was a godsend that he was finished first, but after a shower he discovered that he was fresh out of cigarettes, and the situation hasn't gotten any better now. He's gone without for hours and his hands are starting to tingle. He can't find his bandmates anywhere, so there's no chance of him being able to borrow a cigarette, and he knows that there are no shops nearby. So Richard is coming back now, having only been able to find himself some vending-machine coffee to keep himself going - woefully inadequate, but it would have to do.
Maybe he really ought to be taking the idea of quitting seriously. Smoking isn't doing a thing for him.
Dressed only in a white sleeveless shirt, trousers and his neck collar, he brushes back his damp hair with a hand before he enters the dressing-room again. It's fairly quiet and softly lit around the walls, a slightly-dim but luxurious golden light illuminating the place; it's designed for two people, so there's an ensuite, a long table built into the wall that's equipped with two height-adjustable chairs, boxes of tissue and two large mirrors with lights around the borders. There's also a small, low-lying leather couch along the adjacent wall, and that's where he put his bag and most of his other belongings. All in all, a very normal dressing-room, not much different to the hundreds of others that they've been in. The rest of his clothes are draped around the back of a chair; he gives them only a casual glance, sighing and pulling the other chair out to sit on it before he suddenly realizes that he isn't the only one occupying the room. The ensuite door is shut and light is showing through the crack between it and the floor.
"Hallo?"
"Hallo?" a voice calls back from within the ensuite. Richard blinks for a moment, confused - but upon realizing who's in there, he widens his eyes in surprise.
"Till! Are you done now? When did you come in?"
"One question at a time," the older man laughs; his low baritone echoes pleasantly from behind the door. "yes, I'm done, thank God. It's all over. The other four are still there as far as I know. And I haven't been here long - I just walked in, saw your things lying around... figured I'd keep you company here, if no one else was occupying this room..."
Another glance around the room proves Till's statement right. His possessions are stashed in a corner that he didn't notice before, consisting of his bag and a bundle of his clothes and nothing more. Satisfied with this (and now quite cheerful), Richard pulls one of the chairs over and sits by the ensuite door, wanting to carry on the communication. "What'd you think of the photoshoot?"
"Same old. Nothing particularly impressive about it, nothing particularly demeaning about it. You're always precious to look at, though."
"Oh, Till," the guitarist chuckles, but he can't deny that he's still rather flattered. Forty-four years old and he's still so easily amused and pleased - whether that's a good thing or not, he doesn't know, but it's certainly not doing him any harm now. "I'm a little tired. I think it's the lack of cigarettes, though. I've run out."
The shower is briefly turned off. "That's not good," Till says worriedly; there's the sound of a bottle cap opening and closing. Richard supposes that he's turned the water off so that he can lather himself up properly. "want to borrow one of mine? I've got two left - the other guys started later than us and by the way things are going they might still be a while, so I have no idea how long one cigarette might last you before we can go home... but it's better than nothing, isn't it?"
"It is," the guitarist calls, at once immensely relieved and feeling a little guilty. Damn his addiction, being so inconvenient in times like those. "thank you ever so much, Till."
"Kein Problem."
A comfortable silence settles between them as the shower is turned back on and the singer begins rinsing off the lather from his body. Richard leans against the chair, closing his eyes lazily and his spirits considerably lightened from Till's presence and the promise of a cigarette, almost being lulled to sleep by the sound of the water before he's jolted awake by an unpleasant realization: he's tired. Checking his watch reveals that it's almost six o'clock in the evening. While late-running shoots are most certainly something that they've gotten used to in the past decade and a half, this does put a bit of a dampener in the plans that he and Till have made for later, considering it's still going to take them over an hour to get back.
"Till," he calls.
"Ja."
"About tonight," Richard hesitates; there's only silence behind the door. "... it's going to be quite late when we get back, isn't it?"
Till takes a full minute to answer. "I'm afraid so," he finally says just as the guitarist is beginning to fidget anxiously. "past nine o'clock. Maybe a little earlier, if traffic isn't too bad. But I don't see us returning home before that."
"Damn. I guess..." exhale. "by the time we get back we'd be utterly exhausted, and there's dinner too... so... well... I guess us doing it tonight... is out of the question, then."
There is no reply; even the sound of running water has stopped. Richard is just beginning to think that Till's become upset and is hastily trying to think of an apology or another means to amend this situation when Till speaks up once more.
"I don't know," the door swings open, revealing the singer's large, damp body, clad only in a towel that's fastened around his waist. "is it?"
Richard's left speechless. Till's there, standing in front of him with perfectly clear green eyes and staring into his face; from the glow of the ensuite lights he cuts a more imposing figure than expected, every curve and swell of his muscles highlighted, and he suddenly feels both a little intimidated and helplessly aroused. "You're..." Richard swallows heavily, reaching out to gently brush the tips of his fingers against the other's left bicep. "Till... you're..."
With a casual but oddly-smoldering gaze, Till walks straight past him and towards the pile of his clothes; even though he's not really doing anything, the guitarist can't help but imagine, because the truth of the matter is that the older man is extremely naked save for that towel right now. "Cigarette?" he calls, and only then does the guitarist move, startled out of his fantasies.
"Oh... oh, of course..." He hastily reaches for his bag and searches around for his lighter, not missing the rustle of the plastic bag where the condoms and lube are. Till turns around with a cigarette in his mouth and hands him one as well, which Richard reaches towards with a trembling hand. "danke," he says but doesn't make any moves to light it, instead staring at it and his lover at the same time. Till too isn't moving from his spot, gazing into the other's blue eyes in silence.
... This isn't about the cigarette, is it?
Knowing that he's doing something he's only ever done a few times in his life, Richard makes the first move and actually puts down his offered cigarette. Maybe the nicotine withdrawal is getting to his head, but with the sight and scent of a vastly-nude Till in front of him, he can let it go just this once. "Put that down," he speaks up, voice trembling - is he giving Till an order? - and when the man obeys without a single comment, he walks up to him and throws his arms around his body, burying his face into his chest. "not fair. Not fair at all. Not when I've waited so long."
Till chuckles, his eyes full of mischief. "You could say the same for me," he purrs in his low voice, lightly fingering the other's collar. "we're all alone and then you have to go and point out that we'll be too exhausted to do much when we get home. Is it any wonder that I had the idea to simply adjust the time and place?"
"I have the lube and condoms."
There's a stunned silence, and Till actually takes a step back, looking perplexed. "... Was? Why did-"
Richard's cheeks redden at his bemused expression. "I... I didn't mean to," he explains quickly in case the older man gets the wrong idea. "I hid them in my bag when I bought them, and this morning was such a rush that I barely even realized..."
"That has to be one of the funnier mistakes I've seen in my life," the older man laughs, but within a few seconds the serious look is back on his face. "... and... a very... convenient one..."
"..."
There's silence for a while. The question is left hanging in the air, unasked and unanswered, only present as a possibility until one of them makes a move. And it's Till who does it first after what feels like an eternity; "We should get it over with," he finally says, suddenly sounding rather hoarse. Richard looks at him, startled, but there's no denying his arousal, either; he drops his gaze back down onto the floor, blushing heavily.
"Till..." he says quietly. "there's no need to... we can save it for later on, tomorrow maybe..."
"No, because then I'll just keep staring at you in the bus and think that we haven't done it when we had everything we needed and we promised and we just have to," the singer responds; his words are almost blurring together as he speaks in an increasingly hurried manner, sounding almost desperate and embarrassed and yet incredibly lustful. "and I certainly wouldn't dream of taking you, if you're too tired back home... and... and... it'd be positively dire."
Dire is the right word. Richard can already see his erection straining against the towel around his waist, the only garment concealing his form right now. Oh dear, he thinks to himself furiously, beginning to feel sweat pooling at his hairline just looking at it and feeling himself respond to the sight. But as if possessed, he's already pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it carelessly on the ground- "I... I see..."
"Maybe these are just the irrational demands of a man starved with longing," the older man's breathing is much harder now, and he's walking forwards to do the rest of the honors for the younger man. "forgive me, Richard..."
"Till."
The mantra in Richard's head reminds him: he asked, you consented, this is natural and this is happening. And - oh, goodness - Till's fumbling with the zipper and button of his trousers, tugging it down while managing to only let the palm of his hand brush very gently against the guitarist's erection; in a daze of emotions, Richard reaches down to help him out, huffing in a mixture of panic and annoyance when the clothing finally slides onto the floor. "You must... you must think me so crude, Risch-"
"Till."
They're only wearing one thing each, now. (The neck collar doesn't count.) At every inch of Richard's skin being exposed Till's eyes darken with longing, his breathing becoming increasingly more labored. Not wanting to be overwhelmed just yet the guitarist shuts his eyes and peels off his boxers in a hurry, tossing them towards some random direction, hearing the vague thump of his lover's towel hitting the floor as well and wincing in pleasure. Only then does he dare to open his eyes. Quite suddenly, there's him, naked; and there's Till, naked; and for a long time they stand there, staring at each other's bodies.
He's seen Till in the nude before, of course. Nudism isn't really a big deal where they come from, and they've all seen each other in various states of undress during their many tours and photoshoots. It's not as if they're unfamiliar with each other's bodies, neither of them are prudish about it. But this is different. Till's body is still slightly damp, but in the dim light of the dressing room it lends his taut, tanned skin a slightly ethereal glow. His eyes are intensely green and almost catlike as his gaze travels slowly down Richard's form; the younger man raises one hand slightly, intending to reach out and touch the singer's body, but finds that he can't bring himself to do that yet. He looks instead, focusing on Till's large shoulders, the muscles standing out on his biceps; he does reach out again with more success when he gets to the other's toned chest, running a finger down the skin and marveling at the smoothness of it. Soon he feels brave enough to rest both palms on Till's chest, feeling the intensity of his heat, and when he runs them gently downwards against his chest he can feel the other's nipples stiffen at the feather-light touch beneath his fingertips. Till lets out a small sound at this, something halfway between a purr and a pleased 'mmm' that vibrates in his chest and makes Richard shiver with longing. Age has softened the other's figure a little, but he'd be damned if Till isn't one of the finest-looking and the fittest men he's seen, especially considering that he's nearly fifty. Only at this point does he become aware that the older man has been reciprocating his stare all along, and his blush intensifies as his mind overloads with possibilities - what if Till doesn't like what he's seeing? But they've gone too far to stop, so the guitarist swallows hard and carries on scrutinizing his lover's body, feeling his face growing increasingly hotter and actually having to close his eyes with the sheer intensity as he gets to the singer's abdomen and down to his - oh God - and his tightly muscled legs. Till is more awkwardly robust and more beautifully put together than he'd ever imagined, now that he's really thinking about it. Richard can't help himself, he's so aroused, and as Till (who is very much the same) gazes into his eyes and licks his lips ever so lightly he feels almost as if he's about to pass out from all the emotions coursing through him.
And then he gives up and starts laughing.
Till stares at him with an odd look, prompting the beginnings of a hasty, gasped apology - but Richard needn't have worried in the first place because it's no more than a few seconds before the older man suddenly bursts into laughter as well. Together they laugh and laugh, holding onto each other, all the nervousness washed away just like that as they laugh just like the old friends that they are.
"Oh," Richard chokes out, wiping the tears from his eyes. "oh dear. Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry."
"No need."
But it's all right. The tension's been washed away; Till reaches down and takes the other's face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips and holding him tight as Richard melds into the kiss. It almost makes them forget how absurd it all is, two middle-aged men standing naked in the middle of a dressing room while being terribly nervous about having sex for the first time, as if they were two adolescent teenagers.
"We can't do this," Richard says as they break the kiss; but he doesn't mean it. Even as he lets the words fall from his lips, one of Till's large warm hands is resting on his backside and they're still holding each other. And of course, they're still very much aroused and it's not showing any signs of ebbing any time soon. Till looks around the room, judging the situation; Richard follows his thought process by simply tracking his gaze. Not the couch, it wouldn't fit them both and it's not high enough. The floor probably isn't much better, as plush the carpet is - there isn't a lot else to make use of, but nevertheless he's quite touched that his lover wants to do this properly.
"I've... got an idea..."
Without further prompt Till turns around and pushes away one of the height-adjustable chairs. He then pulls the younger man towards the dressing-table, having Richard stand against it, facing outwards with his hands resting on the tabletop. The table's at a good enough height that he can lean against the side of it. "... Is that comfortable?"
"Yeah..."
One good thing about this position is that Richard can stand with relative ease and still present himself to Till perfectly, leaning back in a submissive, exposed position. Clearly this isn't lost on the singer either; he bends down to brush the softest of butterfly kisses against the corner of Richard's mouth, gentle and totally respectful to start with before progressing to a deeper, slightly more desperate kiss. The guitarist can't help but smile and chuckle softly at the other's demanding impatience even as Till breaks the kiss and trails off around his mouth, moving down to his neck and shoulders.
"Mmm... Till..."
The singer's palms are warm and rough against his chest; he runs them smoothly down Richard's torso, admiring the hard muscles beneath his tanned skin before he bends down and lightly presses the tip of his tongue against a pink nub, in the exact same way that he did that night when they first confessed their love. But that was more of a teasing lick than anything. Till goes one further and swirls his tongue around the nipple, soon drawing it within his mouth and suckling on it before nipping at it very lightly. "Du magst das, nicht wahr?" he murmurs as he soothes it with a lick, pinching at both nipples lightly with his fingers.
"J-ja..." Richard whispers, words feeling thick in his throat. Till slowly trails down his chest with his tongue and the guitarist can't help but shiver at the warmth of it, wet and slightly rough but intensely pleasurable. He throws his head back as he feels the other's lips press lightly against his abdomen, before Till straightens up again.
"Someone's excited..." he murmurs, a little smile on his lips as he gazes down at the other's arousal. Sure enough, Richard's fully hard and erect, a hot clear fluid leaking from the tip already from just those little touches.
Richard tries hard to keep a stoic face, but nevertheless his cheeks redden at the intensity of the other's gaze. "It's all your fault."
"Not exactly something to complain about, now, is it?"
For once the guitarist decides that words aren't going to solve anything, and this lends him a boldness that he wouldn't have thought of otherwise. With an impatient growl he reaches out and tugs Till towards him, snatching his hand and forcefully closing it around his member; the older man blinks and lets out a small 'oh', genuinely taken aback for a second. But soon he regains his composure and gives the younger man a curiously boyish smile, full of mischief and yet also with an odd kind of submissiveness, as he tightens his grip around the shaft and causes Richard to moan.
"Gott im Himmel, kiss me, Till," he groans. And Till does, leaning forwards and giving him a long open-mouthed kiss, tongues battling for dominance while slowly stroking Richard's member with his hand. It's an intensely erotic kiss, with their moans and heavy breaths mingling together - Richard's trembling at the touch, barely being able to resist bucking his hips in response. He runs his hands down Till's back to rest on his taut buttocks and gives them a squeeze, which leads the older man let go of his member and let out a soft moan of pleasure. Their erections brush together, sensitive flesh against another, and after the kiss is over they look down at each other.
"What do you think of mine?"
Richard looks. "Not quite the same as the dildo that we use for Bück Dich."
Till gives him a little smile. "Do you want it to be?"
"I like this better," Richard purrs - and reaches down, grasping the length and making his lover shiver and buck lightly into his hand. It's smooth and hard, and of course ever-so-beautifully hot, Till's warmth centered there for the time being; it's also a lot larger than he would have expected at first glance, but again, it's not like this is the first time he's seen the man naked. He's heard rumors about his size, and he used to be bemused by it, if anything. It's just different to be actually standing there, touching it with his own hand. Feeling its heat finally allows the fact of the situation to sink through - and even though Richard knows that he can still back out if he wants to, that Till would never force him to do anything he was truly uncomfortable with, all he can think of is how much he wants this man in front of him. He wants to embrace Till, he wants to kiss him and adore him and pin him down onto the floor - he wants Till to enter him, or vice versa, spilling his hot seed inside and filling him up to the brim - he simply wants the singer as friend, lover, mate, companion, everything. He lightly strokes it with his right hand, hoping that his calloused fingers won't come across as too abrasive against the smooth, sensitive length - but there doesn't seem to be any complaints in that department, as Till just lets out a soft, trembling sigh in response. "... it will fit, right?"
"If we do it properly," Till nods at him and gestures at Richard to step back; the younger man obeys, letting go of the other's length reluctantly and backing up against the table once more. "but there's something I'd like to do first."
"What-" Till then kneels down on the carpet, raising his head to kiss up his thighs - and the head of his member. "- oh - T-Till, I..."
Till holds it with one hand, cradling the base with the other, and starts licking at it with a hot, rough tongue. It's a slow, luxurious and yet utterly lewd act; 'Mmm,' Till moans as he slowly licks along the very tip of the younger man's erection, a thin clear trail of precum connecting his tongue to the sensitive flesh. It's not a blowjob in the sense that it involves sucking, surprisingly; no, Till's just lapping at it like a cat with cream, eager and sweet, his green eyes wide and almost submissive as he gazes into Richard's own. But either way it's immensely pleasurable; his lips are soft, his tongue dexterous and skilled from all the years of singing, and the inside of his mouth is hot and wet. At one moment the older man's being incredibly gentle, and being insistent and oddly aggressive the next. With this wonderful contrast, it's not long before Richard tenses up in preparation, breathing hard - but Till notices, and he isn't about to have that just yet, so he stops and moves away.
"Tease," Richard whimpers pitifully; the singer just smiles and stands up, only wincing very briefly as his knees creak a little. "why on earth did you do that?"
"I want to please you completely," Till says - before his smile falters into a more serious (and perhaps a little shy) look. "... you said the lubricant and condoms are in your bag?"
"I did..."
A quick rummage through, and Till's set the box of condoms and lubricant down on the dressing-table. They're sufficiently aroused enough to jump to the next step, which is something they confirm with a long look at each other and an eventual nod; the older man picks up the lubricant bottle. "You're sure about this," he states, more to himself than Richard.
"Mm."
Till certainly doesn't want to hurt him, and Richard isn't eager for it to be more painful than necessary, either. He's not exactly masochistic when it comes to sex, though he suddenly feels a little unsure as to whether his lover is. Of course they share the love for fire and burning and they revel in that kind of pain, but-
"... Tell me if I'm hurting you, ja?"
This is followed up with a nervous, brief peck of the lips. Richard swallows hard, biting back his own fear, and nods. "I will," he says, then turns away to grip the edge of the table with his hands. Through a little glance at the mirror he can see Till opening the bottle of lube; he'll probably lube himself up before he starts on me, he thinks as he closes his eyes and braces himself.
But Till doesn't do that. No, he raises the bottle and drips the lube over him - Richard yelps as the cold liquid slides down his thighs and backside, and clenches his eyes shut when Till actually touches him, his lube-coated fingers lightly caressing his entrance before he slides one in ever so gently. His fingers are relatively large; but it doesn't feel painful, just distinctly odd, almost exactly like a prostate exam. Thinking about it like that is rather clinical, perhaps, and it actually helps Richard to calm down and get his thoughts in order before Till inserts a second finger. Then a small jolt of pain shoots through him, making him grimace - as the other's fingers push in a little more, he actually whimpers and tries to wriggle free to no avail. Till chuckles softly from above him; he gently begins to widen the tight ring of muscle, trying to loosen him up and let him get used to the feeling. Soon he finds the sensitive gland, not too far inside, and rubs it lightly; the moan that escapes Richard at this touch is so sudden, so sweet and sensual, that Till actually stops all movement for a brief moment. He closes his eyes, unable to hear and unable to think of anything but that moan - the guitarist seems embarrassed at having reacted in such a manner, and turns his head away, blushing.
"No, no," Till whispers, gently urging him to look up again. "don't... I liked it."
Richard doesn't answer, feeling too mortified to do so. But Till seems unfazed as he brushes his finger lightly over the sweet spot once more; the guitarist doesn't moan this time, but he squirms a little, his blush deepening. A considerably-firmer press makes him moan and buck into the table, eyes clenching shut in mixed pleasure and embarrassment, his erection twitching lightly in response.
"Till, ah," he cries out. "if - if you keep that up, I'm going to come..."
This won't do, and Till knows it. He withdraws from Richard almost immediately, and while the guitarist is bent over the table, briefly tells him to wait before quickly walking away to somewhere. This leads to a somewhat awkward pause in the action, Richard suddenly being left alone and having to stay still; it's not until he hears the sound of rushing water from the ensuite, along with the box of condoms being torn open, that he figures out what Till's doing.
"... You bought large sized condoms?"
Richard blushes heavily at this, taking note of the amused tone that Till's voice has taken. "I feel you all the time," he calls out, clearing his throat hastily. "when we sleep together. I thought they'd be best. Do they fit?"
"They do. Quite nicely, not that I'm boasting..."
And then there are footsteps and Till's cleanly-washed hands are upon the small of his back, travelling down and finally resting on the sides of his hips. Richard moans and lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the other's lips nuzzling the back of his neck, along his shoulders and down to his back. "Heh... Till... that tickles..."
The older man looks up, and through the mirror they share a little smile. Till straightens up again and presses his hips against his lover's, the condom rolled on and fitted snugly around his member.
"... Richard?"
The guitarist closes his eyes. Just from how Till suddenly whispers his name in that hoarse, yet delicately-pronounced way, he already knows what his lover will ask of him. And sure enough, he can feel it now, the sensation of the other's member prodding lightly against him- "... Ja?"
"... Bist du bereit?"
"Yes," Richard whispers in response, his voice hoarse too with anticipation. "take me, Till. Claim me as yours."
The singer softly kisses and nibbles down his back to get him to relax first before taking hold of his slickened member and guiding himself in; he does it very slowly and gently, almost prodding lightly at first before pushing just enough to let the very tip of his erection slide in. He pauses briefly there, searching for any hints of pain on Richard's face - there's none just yet - before giving a solid, decisive thrust and enters him proper.
"... Ah... ahh-" the guitarist cries out, tensing; he's used to withstanding pain, but not in this way. The pain of being burnt or having his hands bleed because of overpracticing is something wholly different to this; Till's so large and thick inside him that he can't help but feel tears stinging at his eyes. From the way the man's gripping him Richard knows that he's exercising the most restraint possible, his self-control on overdrive to stop himself from pounding the guitarist into the table, but that doesn't help that much.
"Mm-nngh..." he groans, tightening his grip around the edge of the table and panting hard. "... Till... Till, ah, it... it hurts..."
The older man stops; he says nothing, but gently caresses the back of his neck and waits for Richard to calm down somewhat. Only when the younger man sinks down, exhaling shakily, does he pose the question. "Richard, we don't need to do this right now," he murmurs worriedly. "do you want me to stop? I'm - I'm happy enough to please you in any other way, anything but hurting you-"
"No... no, it's fine, it always hurts the first time... just carry on, Till..."
He doesn't, and carries on gazing at Richard with concern. "I'm... such an impatient and foolish man, aren't I...?"
"Till... mmnh, Gott, self-deprecation is the least arousing thing..." he manages a smile, urging the other to continue. "it's all right. Really."
It's easier said than done, though. Till carries on, wary but nevertheless at a steady pace, and soon he's fully inside and Richard's almost speechless with the pain. And oh, he suddenly feels so cold - cold as if plunged in icewater - that he briefly panics, wondering if something's gone terribly wrong or if he's bleeding. He might be experienced at sex, but not with another man, and having something like this happen to him during what ought to be fairly straightforward just frightens him even more; he bites his lip, tense and feeling as if he's being torn in half. But Till senses that he's hurting - without a word, he brings his arms up and holds Richard tightly against him, nuzzling into his back and murmuring apologies, planting soft kisses and licks against his skin. "Sorry..." he whispers, shushing him gently as Richard whimpers in pain, running a soothing hand down his chest and stomach and lightly stroking at his member. He's so slow and caring that the guitarist calms down within a minute, managing to open his eyes and look back at Till with only a light uneasiness.
"May I move now?"
The guitarist nods. "Be gentle," he breathes, moaning faintly as he feels the other's length slide out a little. "you're quite big, and-" Till pushes back in, causing the younger man to wince and slump forwards. "O-ow!"
Till stops, looking more distressed than ever. "Risch, I can't do this if I'm going to hurt you. Do you want to stop?"
"No, that's..." the guitarist weakly raises a hand, gesturing in the air helplessly, trying to adequately convey his meaning. "... it's... not the right angle... a bit lower..."
Bother. I don't remember sex being this difficult before.
It's probably less that sex in general is difficult and more that he's never done it this way before; that, and the fact that neither he nor Till are yet fully comfortable would certainly be a factor. The singer looks hesitant and not at all convinced, but he complies and pulls out, pushing back in a little slower and in a different angle this time. Richard finds this attempt more agreeable and allows himself to relax, sending the quiet message that Till can carry on.
"Does it still hurt?"
"... Ein... ein... bisschen..."
But it's barely present now. Till's eased into a slow rhythm, thrusting in short, even measures and making sure that he's getting the correct angle; every now and then he brushes up against the prostate, making Richard squirm and moan out loud. Slowly the icy sensation in the pit of his stomach fades away, along with the splitting pain, being steadily replaced with a warmth so fiery that the guitarist doesn't know what to do with himself. He feels as if his entire body's about to melt, the slickness of Till's member thrusting inside him making him writhe, and for a moment - just for a moment - he feels utter ecstasy as the older man leans down to kiss his shoulder gently. He'd be quite content to just stay like this forever, Till inside him, being loved like this with no one to bother them. A well-aimed thrust makes Richard close his eyes tight and let out a soft cooing noise, signaling his pleasure.
To the singer, who's been taking the other's relative silence as one of pain all this time, however - this is a cause for alarm. Startled, the older man pauses and gazes anxiously down at Richard again. "Risch..."
"Stay," the guitarist pleads before he can continue on, clutching at the other's hand. "it's all right..."
"But I don't want to hurt you!"
"It feels good, Till... I waited this long to feel you inside me," the older man still doesn't move. Impatient, Richard actually pushes back against him, begging him to carry on."we waited for much too long, I - mnnh - I want you... so... so much... and I don't want to see you holding back..."
"I-"
"Till..." Richard actually turns his head to look at him, panting, hoping that the flushed and wanton expression on his face is conveying his frustration fully. "love me!"
He's successful.
The singer stares at him for a moment before unbridled lust clouds over his eyes; with a growl he grabs Richard tighter around the hips and begins thrusting into him, staying remarkably restrained for the first few thrusts and checking that the younger man isn't in pain before giving into his own rhythm. The guitarist bucks against him, meeting every thrust of his hips with his own, gasping and inhaling Till's scent; hot and sweet and musky, an intensely sexy odor that only turns him on even more.
"Ahh," Till moans indulgently as he continues to rock against his lover. "mein Gott, you're so tight..."
Richard blushes hotly at this remark, and twists his body around a little so that he can reach up and stroke the other's hair. He's panting softly, his lips parted in arousal, his blue eyes half-lidded and dark with passion; hot, lusty cries are escaping him with every thrust now, no longer quiet as before, but neither of them can be asked to care at this point. They buck and move against each other in a steady rhythm, only their breathy moans and cries audible in the otherwise-silent room. Their bodies are beading with sweat as they move, skin against skin, their shared scent hanging thick and heavy in the air; Till bends forwards to lick and nip at the collar slightly, tugging at it with his teeth, causing Richard to mewl and slump facedown on the table.
"No," Till grasps him beneath his chin and forces him to look up, straight into the mirror. "look at me. Look at me."
Richard obeys; there is nowhere else that he can turn his head towards anyway, and besides - he has no desire to look away from Till. So he does, panting out loud, staring into his own lust-filled face before moving up to fix his gaze upon the reflection of the other's eyes. They're almost black with pleasure, his pupils fully dilated, and as Richard gazes into their combined vision in the mirror he sees his older lover bend forwards to kiss and nibble at the nape of his neck.
"That's better," Till breathes into his ear. "I want to see you moan. I want to see you, every part of you, writhing in pleasure just for me."
"Heh... L-look who's talking, Herr 'Dein-Gesicht-ist-mir-egal'..."
This comment earns him a growl and a particularly hard thrust from Till, but it's all in good heart. There's something incomprehensibly humbling about being bent over like this and being made to stare at himself as he's taken; just the 'being made love to on a table' part would be enough, but then neither he nor Till are very conventional men. Every time he shuts his eyes tightly for more than a couple of seconds or tries to lower his head, Till stops him with a slap to the rump or by tugging him up by his collar, and even though it's rather hard trying to keep his head up Richard can't help but feel intensely turned on by the thought of the man dominating him in this way. He reaches out towards the mirror, almost as a reflex, trying to concile himself with his mirror image, only to cry out and falter when Till too places his hands on the table, pressing their bodies closer together and thrusting his hips harder than before. His outstretched hand trembles, then falls back onto the dressing-table.
"Fuck, Till," Richard cries as he lolls his head back, coming into contact with the crook of Till's neck. The older man doesn't miss the opportunity to rain kisses upon his forehead and cheek. "that... that feels so good..."
He feels completely raw and exposed, sweat running down the contours of his muscles as Till slams into him with increased urgency. Of course he's dreamed about this countless times, in the dark of the night and alone while bringing himself to orgasm at the mere fleeting fantasy of it. To say that the actual experience is physically very different to what he imagined would be an exaggeration. But here he is now, actually being claimed as Till's mate, and suddenly he is afraid that if he looks away for even a second from their reflection, Till will disappear. Of course he's most definitely there, taking him from behind, making him writhe in uncontrollable pleasure - but still, there is a small part of Richard's mind that thinks this might be all another fantasy, and when he comes back to reality he'll just find himself back in their bed, possibly alone and full of lust. He doesn't know that the older man is feeling much of the same, and that he's going one further by deliberately assuring his own presence on Richard's body - touching and thrusting isn't enough. He can't mark the guitarist on the more obvious spots such as the neck and clavicle out of fear that they'll be spotted by others, but he can leave little love-bites along his back, he can slap his backside, hold him tight enough to leave fingernail scratches on his body. Selfish of him, maybe, but in that moment they just want each other to belong to them and no one else, and it's a torturous feeling, possessive longing being squeezed out drop by drop.
I would like to be able to watch you, enjoy you, as you actively desire more from me.
The contents of Till's letter float back into mind; through hazy thoughts Richard manages to focus on one thing that Till requested of him. Glancing at the mirror reveals his older lover to be completely focused on what he's doing, caressing and rocking against his body, eyes closed and letting out soft groans of his own.
... Press the lips lightly together, hum through the vocal cords lightly, then pry them apart with a soft exhaled sigh...
"... Mehr..."
Till opens his eyes as soon as the word falls from his lips, and he inhales sharply from behind him. "Yes?" he murmurs, fixing his gaze on the other's lips. "what... did you say?"
"Bitte..." Richard's eyes are glazed in pleasure. "ich... ich... will mehr..."
That does it for Till. With a growl he reaches behind him and grabs the height-adjustable chair, dragging it close and grasping Richard tightly around the waist; before the guitarist can whimper in confusion or beg for him to continue (or even really react, for that matter), Till throws himself down upon the seat, taking the younger man with him to settle on top and forcing out a little yelp from him. "You're mine," the older man breathes hotly against his back, and although Richard doesn't manage to see it from this position, his eyes are dark with passion as he grips the younger man's hips and thrusts roughly upwards into him. "mine."
It's too much for Richard. He's moaning with each thrust, unable to move as Till pins his arms firmly around his back; they're both flushed, their bodies hot and sticky with perspiration, Richard's legs are spread as wide as the chair will allow and he's completely exposed in front of the older man as they make love, and he can see every single utterly lewd and shameless second of it being projected onto the mirror while Till's dark green eyes stare back from their reflection. He can see the older man trailing bruising kisses along his shoulder, his neck already littered with love-bites (the possibility of others noticing them be damned), he can see his nipples being tweaked and caressed, Till's length sliding in and out of his body - and most of all he sees himself, tears in his eyes, toes curled in pleasure and every inch of his body burning for his lover, wanting more, demanding more.
"Till... oh... oh, Till...!"
Till. One syllable, such a simple sound, and yet it's sweeter than any other word to Richard right now. Every time he calls out his lover's name he's conveying ever so much in that single syllable: worship, love, adoration, lust, begging for more, begging for mercy. It's genuinely surprising, how utterly wanton and uncontrolled he's become within minutes now that he can see both himself and his lover more clearly. Even Till seems filled with wonder at the sheer passion with which Richard cries out - härter, schneller, tiefer - harder, faster, deeper - lost in ecstasy as he writhes on top of his lover. Of course, Till does grant all of those demands with fluid ease, crooning words of encouragement in his beautiful voice and staring into the mirror, taking it all in. A true feast.
Then it happens. Richard tenses on top of Till, head thrown back and lips parted as he rapidly approaches his peak. "I'm... I'm going to-"
"It's all right," the older man gasps into his ear. "just let it happen, Richard!"
He reaches down to eagerly pump at the other's neglected erection, other hand roaming his chest to pinch lightly at a nipple. And watching this sends the guitarist completely over the edge; he comes right there and then, clenching his eyes shut and completely disregarding the thought that someone might be able to hear them from outside as he moans out loud. Till's insistent squeeze at his member forces him to open his eyes and watch himself coming, though, hot cum dripping down his length and thighs and coating his stomach, not to mention the singer's hand itself. Without taking his gaze off the reflection of Richard's eyes, Till lets go and brings his hand to his mouth, lewdly sucking at his fingers and letting out a soft groan at the taste while thrusting ever harder into him.
Oh... oh God...
While Richard stays there, the inside of his head gone completely blank, Till's climax too happens so suddenly that neither of them really are prepared for it. He clutches the younger man tightly around the waist and bucks his hips hard one last time; as he loses control and comes, he lets out such a loud and piercing cry (compared to the relatively quiet moans from before) that Richard is startled into opening his eyes again. He can't help but blush at Till's expression, a rictus of ecstatic agony, his chest heaving as he pants out his release; Richard can almost feel the other's length twitching lightly within him and through his lightheadedness wonders (very briefly) what it might like to be filled to the brim by the older man. They stay completely still for a while, hot slick bodies pressed close to the other's, suspended in their mutual pleasure.
"Look at how beautiful you are," Till breathes in his ear before he nips ever so lightly at his earlobe and trails his lips downwards. The younger man's response to this is a muffled, barely audible groan; but he doesn't close his eyes, staring dazedly into their reflection before shyly averting his gaze at the sight of his own cum covering his stomach. Taking this as a sign that the younger man ought to be let down, and knowing that he shouldn't stay any longer, Till gently lifts up the other's hips and pulls out of him; Richard doesn't struggle but he does let out a small whimper, not wanting his lover to leave him just quite yet. Noticing this, Till pauses for a second to brush a reassuring kiss against his cheek before pulling out fully and supporting Richard in his arms. "let's get you to the sofa."
Richard would quite like to stay longer on the older man's lap, but he's not about to take no for an answer, so he just nods and lets Till guide him off the chair and to the sofa, lying down lengthwise and sinking his head back on the cushions. After this is done Till slips the condom off his considerably-softened length and ties it closed, wrapping it in tissue and tossing it in the wastebasket in the corner; making sure to stroke the younger man's head and reassure him that he's coming back, he then enters the ensuite and picks up two towels, wetting one and wringing it out before coming to kneel in front of Richard. "I'll get you cleaned up."
"Mmh," is the answer. Till uses the warm, damp towel to clean the sweat and cum off his body and dabs lightly between Richard's thighs and back, quickly mopping at he moisture with the dry towel and only then moving onto cleaning himself up of bodily fluids. Richard turns his head to look at him, still rather disoriented and feeling a dull ache settling deep inside him; but nevertheless he's slowly coming to, and the realization of just how tender the singer's being awakens yet another dimension of fondness within his heart.
"There," the older man says when they've both been adequately cleaned off, tossing the towels away. "was that good, Richard?"
"You were the best," the guitarist responds; his own voice seems foreign to him, hoarse from all the moaning and crying out and still thick with lust. "I mean it."
"Thank you. I want to do it again," Till nuzzles Richard's cheek, making the guitarist smile a little. "properly. I want us to be on a bed next time."
"The first time ought to be memorable, though," the younger man laughs. "and it certainly was... wow, Till..."
They share a long kiss together; it's not the most comfortable one because the sofa doesn't fit them both, but nevertheless it's a way to wind down somewhat. In his post-coital bliss it's a blessing to be able to hold Till and affirm their love, after all. "I think I need another shower," the older man says when they break the kiss. "just a quick one. I can't really go out like this."
This is true. Till sweats far more than Richard does, normally, and the guitarist's already fairly cleaned off and dry whilst a towel alone won't exactly do the same for the older man. "Go right ahead. But come back quickly, ja? I'd like to be able to hold you before we have to go."
"What we just did wasn't enough?"
"Nowhere near enough."
Till laughs and lightly flicks the dry towel at him before he re-enters the ensuite and closes the door. Richard lies on the sofa for some minutes, hearing the shower start up again, feeling oddly disconnected from his own self; he raises one hand and flexes his fingers slowly, their movement gently bringing them back to the real world. He feels for his neck collar and judging from the sensation of it, Till's left teethmarks on it. Everything feels oddly unreal to him, but yet it's definitely happened - but then again, his disorientation is understandable. It's not every day that he goes through a life-changing event within a dressing room. Raising his torso a little, he manages to sit up (wincing at the ache) and look around dazedly at the room. One side of the dressing table is messed up, the tissues and items on there scattered all over and the chair's been pushed to one side crookedly. He should probably fix that; they'd never hear the end of it otherwise. Still stark naked, Richard heaves himself up and staggers towards the dressing-table, rearranging the boxes of tissues and tidying up as much as possible, discarding every last piece of trash in the wastebasket. He picks up the cigarette that Till gave him, but has no desire to smoke it, so he places that in the front pocket of his bag instead.
Wow. Till's managed to temporarily screw years' worth of nicotine addiction out of me.
The thought amuses him so much that he starts chuckling; it all falls into place then, that they've made love, that they've taken the next step in their relationship together in the most excellent way. He gazes at the ensuite door with a grin on his face, suddenly filled with no other desire than to rush in and embrace Till and not let go, when a knock sounds on the door and startles him out of it.
"Hello? Risch? Are you in there?"
"Oh... um, Schneider," he calls back, hoping that his voice isn't giving away anything. Thankfully, the door is still locked. "I'm here, yes."
"I was the last to finish. I just got out now - I asked the others and they didn't know where you or Till were. Are you ready to go? Is he in there as well?"
"Yes. I'm all ready, but he's, uh, in the shower. He hasn't been in there long. Don't tell me we're leaving right now?"
"Oh. Tell him to hurry up, then. Bus's leaving in half an hour."
"Will do."
Schneider's footsteps fade away in the distance and Richard, tense and listening by the door, only lets out a sigh of relief then. Padding across the carpeted floor he reaches for his boxers and slides them on, wincing a little at the jolt of pain up his backside as he bends over; this has the additional effect of making him blush to a ridiculous extent as well despite the pain. Perhaps he and Till are not so different after all, when it comes to masochistic pleasure; they both like being burned, they both feel more alive when they're pondering severely on something as opposed to living a easy-going life, and - really - the guitarist thinks that even if their lovemaking was always painful, he'd bear it with nothing but pleasure and maybe even want it that way, simply because it's Till. The ability of attraction to change someone is truly remarkable.
Pulling on the rest of his clothes (which suddenly feel a little cumbersome) save for his jacket, he walks over and knocks on the ensuite door. "Yes?" Till calls from inside.
"It's me," he calls back. "Schneider just passed on the message from outside. We have thirty minutes before the bus leaves."
"Ah... ah, ich verstehe," the singer responds; there's something a little breathless and uneven about his tone of voice, something that Richard inherently recognizes - and when he figures it out, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. "I'm a little preoccupied right now... do get on the bus first. I'll be out soon."
He can't resist the urge to tease his lover a little, though. "Any reason as to why you're suddenly so anxious to be left alone, hmm?"
"Ach! Richard, you're impossible. Just go, will you."
Laughing, Richard puts on his jacket and leaves the dressing room after bidding the ensuite door a 'bis dann'. He walks down the corridor with a light heart, still not quite being able to believe that they've just made love, and in a dressing room out of all places - and that it was quite possibly one of the best sexual encounters that he's ever had. When he joins Flake and Paul outside to get on the bus first, he's still giddy with happiness even though his backside is aching somewhat, and contrary to what he expected he only feels more cheerful when Paul gazes at him and says: "Something looks a little different about you."
"Really? You think so?" he asks jovially as they get to their respective bunks; he swings a leg over his own and lies down. Paul nods and carries on looking at him thoughtfully.
"But I can't pinpoint what exactly. You just look - I don't know, different."
"Can't think of what it might be," Richard answers as he gazes out of the window and sees a freshly washed-and-dressed Till walking in the direction of the bus. Not wanting to give away too much, he leans back on his bunk and closes his eyes, letting out a content sigh. Till's touch, kiss and scent are all still vivid in his mind, and even though he's burning for more, it'll do for the moment.
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Vision im Spiegel