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Paint	By : cryforthemoon Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2058 -:- 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-Paint
- 2-Part Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Part Four
- 5-Part Five
- 6-Six
- 3
- 4
- 5
Disclaimer: I do not know and have never met the band. In no way is this true.
Pairings: P/F, R/S

I wake next morning with the early morning sunlight shifting through the windows and memories of dreams about Paul. I smile and stretch. Ow. I’d forgotten about the scratches. I lift up the covers and look at my body. I can see why Paul looked so shocked when I answered the door. Tracks of red lines run everywhere over my skin, reminding me of where Olli touched me. But I don’t shudder; I push that away and remind myself that Paul owns those parts of me now. I smile at the new memory of his hand bunching the material of his shirt, how he asked to kiss me, the way he tasted…if I keep daydreaming like this I’m never going to make it to the studio.
I get up; I go through normal things like breakfast, shower, getting dressed. I wince when I see slight red stains around the shower plughole. The scratches on my skin stretch as I move around, a bit like sunburn. A memory of Till drawing a heart with sunscreen on Olli’s shaved head while he slept in the sun. Olli went around wearing a baseball cap until he’d grown back enough hair to hide the heart. It’s a bittersweet memory now. I shake my head as I clean my teeth, trying to work out why Olli would do something like that. Sweet, easy-going Olli, who likes sport and photography. Nothing seemed to point him out as a person who would assault his friend and colleague. But then I guess that’s what people think. Such a nice person, she’s always looked after her children, he’s always buying her presents. Automatic assumption of trust. Until a new story hits the papers and everyone’s paranoid for a little while. Then we forget and go back to thinking “it could never happen to me”.

I have to go; I’ll see Paul and he’ll give me a new memory.
I double-check the locked door, making sure that Olli won’t be waiting for me. I’m hoping he won’t be at the studio, but my stomach twists as I realize this is unlikely.
The only thing making my feet move forwards is the thought of Paul being there. I focus on the image of his face, the places on my body that are now his, the way he tasted.

Concentrating on Paul’s kisses, I walk past my old school along the streets. I add each new memory to the thoughts in my head, so that by the time I reach the recording studio my thoughts are only of Paul.

I can’t stop my stomach lurching, though, as I push the door to our room open and steel myself for seeing him again. I glance around the room.

He’s not there.

Till talking to Paul, Schneider twiddling his thumbs at the drum kit and Richard tuning his guitar. No Olli.

I clear my throat and they all look up. Till does his usual frown of greeting, and Paul smiles at me. A light bulb seems to light up inside me when he smiles. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him in such a short time.

Richard gives me one look and glares before pushing past me out of the door. Schneider looks at Till. At a nod he follows Richard out, looking at me oddly.

I can sense the tension in the room.
“I told Richard and Schneider what happened between you and Olli,” Till states, “Richard didn’t take it that well. I don’t think he believes you.”

“How much did you tell them?”

“That Olli had been inappropriate with you, and you didn’t want him. That he forced himself on you.”

I was surprised at the delicacy. I would have expected Till to just tell them that Olli made me get him off. My stomach churns, and I suddenly appreciate Till’s way of saying things.
Paul gets up and crosses over to me. He slips his hand into mine. “How’re you doing?”

Till suddenly looks very interested in a lamppost outside. I squeeze Paul’s hand, feeling rough skin and calluses where he plays the guitar. “I’m better than I was.” And I realize that it’s the truth. He looks up at me and grins. I suddenly want very badly to kiss him. But Till, even though he is currently whistling and staring fixedly at the lamppost, is very present. The most I can really do is stroke my thumb over his knuckles and smile at him. He squeezes my hand gently and looks up at me, his eyes crinkling in a smile. I can’t help myself and raise a hand to touch his face. Till clears his throat and I realize that Richard and Schneider are back in the room. Richard is looking at me angrily. I drop Paul’s hand and turn to Richard. I start to speak, but Richard interrupts me.

“Olli couldn’t do that. I don’t believe you.”

He is cold, emotionless except for distaste. I don’t understand. He knows that I don’t lie. Never.

“I don’t think I can speak to you right now. Just…practice on your little keyboard or something. Why not fuck Till and tell us he raped you?”

Anger boils in me at that. Paul gets there before I can open my mouth.

“Say that again.”
“What, that Flake’s so desperate for attention that he lies about Olli molesting him?”
Paul’s fists are clenching at his sides.
“Flake is not fucking lying.”
“Well, who’d want to fuck him? I mean,” Richard’s laughing now, “just look at him!”

WHAM.
A dull thud as Paul’s fist connects with Richard’s cheekbone. A confused moment of limbs and shouting, Paul lying on top of Richard with his fists whirling and I’m lunging forward to grab Paul. Two tugs and I manage to get him off Richard, who snarls and starts forward to finish what Paul started, but is stopped by Schneider’s arms round his waist. He struggles and then seems to slump in Schneider’s arms. I look at him curiously. His shoulders are tensed up, and he’s turning into Schneider. He looks at me and I see tears in his eyes. His jaw is clenched and his mouth trembles slightly. I’m so surprised I relax my grip on Paul. Schneider speaks softly to Richard, so softly I only just make out the words.
“Let’s go outside for a minute, come on.”
Richard looks close to tears as he nods and allows Schneider to lead him out.

“What the fuck?” Paul looks at Till, who shrugs, as confused as I am.

“I’m going after them.” I walk out of the room. Paul comes with me.

We find Schneider and Richard by one of the windows on our floor. Richard is talking into the collar of Schneider’s shirt, Schneider rubbing one of his hands over Richard’s back.

“He promised…he said it was only me, that he’d never do it again. He promised, ’Stoph!”
I blink at the name; surely Schneider won’t allow that? He hates having his name shortened. But he just keeps rubbing Richard’s back, other arm around his waist. He whispers soothing words into Richard’s black hair, dropping kisses on his head in between sentences. Richard chooses to look up just as Schneider finishes a sentence, and a kiss is dropped at the corner of Richard’s mouth. The hand on Richard’s back freezes, and the two of them look shocked. Then Richard leans up and presses his mouth chastely against Schneider’s. It’s as though an electric shock has gone through Schneider. He shudders and moves his hand from its place on Richard’s back to caress his jaw.

We shouldn’t be here. I tug at Paul’s sleeve, but he’s staring at the two of them, too caught up in shock to acknowledge me.

Schneider breaks the kiss and whispers into Richard’s ear, Richard nodding and turning to go back to the studio. I bodily drag Paul around a corner into another room. Annoyingly it’s the cleaner’s room. If you can call it a room, it’s more like a cupboard. Paul and I are pressed together, which I certainly don’t mind. But it’s a little distracting to have Paul breathing gently on my shoulder, especially when I’m trying to listen for Richard and Schneider to go past. I hear footsteps and place a finger on Paul’s mouth, trying to get him to breathe more quietly. Instead he kisses my fingertip and holds his breath as they walk past talking in low voices.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Schneider says, “I didn’t want to scare you off.”
“I’m not scared. I’m happy.”
The footsteps pause, and I see the door give slightly as two bodies press against it. I hold my breath along with Paul and hear the unmistakable sounds of kissing. Then the footsteps start again and Paul and I exhale slowly.
I shift, relieved. And become conscious of the fact that I have a problem. Paul looks confused, not sure what is pressing against his leg.
“Is that a mop handle? The mop’s over there, maybe the cleaner has – oh.”

He grins up at me. I can’t help but to bend slightly and kiss him. He responds passionately, winding his arms around my neck and rubbing his thigh between my legs. I press my hand between his and find an answering hardness. He gasps and trembles as my hand finds its way past his fly and underwear.
“Are you sure?” he whispers against my lips, “if you’re not then say so.”
I whisper that I want to. He moans and winds a leg around my side, his back pressed against the wall as I move my hand. This feels so different from Olli, each stroke to Paul’s erection answered by the press of his thigh against my own. So much better, so right. I fumble for the zipper on my trousers with my other hand and pull my aching erection out, returning my hand to rest on Paul’s arse as he thrusts against me. All too soon Paul shudders and comes in my hand, and I moan against his mouth as the friction of his trouser-clad thigh brings me to orgasm. Paul grins and flops his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.
“That was…wow,” he pants. I can only nod in agreement. I look around. There’s an opened pack of dusters so I take one out and clean off my hand and Paul’s trousers. He takes hold of my wrist and draws me to him, kissing my neck and collarbone. The onslaught of his lips on my newly sensitive skin is delicious.

Paul eventually breaks off from kissing my neck to run his tongue along my jugular vein and suggest that we get back to the others. I nod and smile, opening the door and blinking in surprise at the amount of light in the corridor. I start walking back to our room, but Paul catches my hand. I look back. He has a serious look on his face.

“Are you sure you’re ok? I didn’t expect anything like that so soon after…him.”
“I’m fine,” I smile at him, “let’s get back to the others.”
- 3
- 4
- 5
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