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Meaning	By : Cyndiana Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1420 -:- 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.

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TITLE: Meaning
AUTHOR: Cyndiana
RATING: NC-17 for graphic depictions of M/M sexuality and language.
ARCHIVE: A Feather in the Blood (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afeatherintheblood/)
PAIRING: Schneider/Reesh (with implied Schneider/Paul, Reesh/Caron)
SYNOPSIS: After yet another fight with Paul, Doomy finds his solace in Richard’s arms.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This comes via special request for a Schneider/Reesh fic, so Liz, this one’s fer you baybee! This also goes out to all the (sick, TWISTED) Caron lovers out there…I decided to ease up on the old gal a bit in this one. ;)
DISCLAIMER: A work of fiction. Not intended, in any way, as a statement of fact. Not for profit.

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“C-c-can I come in?” a very wet, very cold Schneider asks on my doorstep.
“Sure.” I respond, inviting him inside.

He wipes his feet on my doormat and, out of further respect, takes off his boots completely. He knows how psychotic Caron gets over our carpets, and though she’s hardly ever home, she’ll come home just long enough to shriek about it.

I bring him a blanket, a towel, and a cup of hot green tea with honey and cream.

“Thanks.” he says softly.
“What happened?”
“We had a fight, what else?”
“Again?”
“Ja…he threw me out. It was all I could do to get my wallet from him. I had nowhere else to go, so I..”
“Shhh…” I place a finger to his lips.

He lets his head fall forward, and sighs deeply. Outside the storm is screaming, lightning flashing like a cheap light show.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask, ruffling his messy hair.
He smiles softly.
“Ja, it’ll blow over. It always does, you know that.”
“And the next time?”
“Ja, and the time after that…”
“You’re welcome to stay here ay time, Schneider. You DO know that, don’t you?”
“Thanks Rich…I appreciate that.”
He finishes his tea, smacking contentedly.
“More?”
“No thanks. I’m good.”
He yawns and stretches.
“Tired?"
“A little. It was a long flight.”
“You can have my bed.”
“No, Rich, I couldn’t.”
“Hey, these days, I’m more used to the couch.”
He laughs gently.
“How IS the old harpy anyways?”
“HEY! That’s my wife you’re talking about!” I say with a soft chuckle.
“Sorry man…How is that old bitch anyways?”
I laugh more deeply.
“Well, I suppose I see her about once every three days, and that’s just long enough for her to yell at me about whatever annoys her about me at that moment, and leave again.”
“Where’s Khira?”
“At her mother’s, for the rest of the week.”
“So, you’ve been all alone?”
“Ja…It’s kinda nice, sometimes.”
“Richard, you’re a pack animal. You NEVER like being alone.”
I blush. He knows me all too well.

He laughs, and licks his thumb and forefinger. Apparently, the humidity of the rain has made one of my spikes go limp, so he sets it upright again, twisting it until it stands to his satisfaction.

He cradles my cheek in his hand. I nuzzle into it, enjoying the affection. He caresses my cheek for a moment, eyes scanning my face. I smile gently, licking my lips absently. He leans in and kisses me tenderly. This gesture renders me breathless, a long forgotten, and greatly welcomed, sensation. I curl my fingers into his hair, returning the kiss with greater intensity. It has been far too long since I’ve been kissed this way. All of a sudden, reality sets in.

“Schneider, what about Paul?”
“He threw me out, remember? What I do now is none of his concern.”
“What ARE we doing?’
“What do you want us to be doing?” he asks, with a raised eyebrow.
“That is a loaded question.”

He laughs, and kisses me once more, undoing the buttons on my shirt, taking it off, and letting it fall to the floor. I breathe in anxious gasps, as I lift his sopping shirt over his head, letting it fall atop mine.

I lick and suck at the indent in his collarbone. He moans softly, tugging at my hair. He bends his neck, and invites my lips there. I gladly oblige biting gently. He whispers my name lustily, and passion rips through me.

He pulls away and sucks at my nipples. I shiver from the sensation. He grips my back as he continues licking and sucking them. I am lost in the feeling of him, the scent of him, and I don’t care if I ever find my way back.

I caress his arousal softly through his pants, and he disengages long enough to moan, and places his lips on my throat, nipping and kissing it. I undo his fly and stroke him more fervently, and he cradles his lips in the crook of my neck, moaning into it.

He pushes me back on the couch, pinning my hands with one hand, undoing my pants with his other. My back arches with anticipation. He releases me long enough to undress me completely, then himself. He pulls the blanket over us, and kisses me with gentle pecks, rubbing his arousal against mine.

I dig my nails into his back as my passion grows.

“Have you got any lube?” he asks breathily.
I smiles. “Yes, in the drawer of my bedside table. I’ll get it.”
“Nope, you sit tight, I’ll get it.”

He kisses me softly and heads for my bedroom. I stroke myself softly, aching to feel him inside of me, longing to feel his weight atop me once more.

I close my eyes, lost in longing…I feel my arms lifted over my head, and my wrists bound by what I recognize as one of Caron’s silk scarves. I am his helpless, willing prisoner.

He lubes us both, and lifts my legs over his shoulders. He puts the head of his cock at my opening, kissing me, teasing me. I whimper, aching even more deeply now to feel him inside of me. He pops only the head in, and withdraws.

I plead, “Schneider, please….I want you…”
“How badly?”
“Right now, nothing else matters but making love with you…”
“Good answer…” He smiles, and obliges my request.

I call out as he stretches me to my limit, filling me completely, leaving no sensitive inner region ignored. He is gentle and tender with me, lips sucking mine, nimble fingers kneading my pecs, pinching the nipples.

His chest heaves against mine, breath coming in passionate shudders. The smell of his cologne and the love we are making intoxicates me completely.

I feel him throb within me, once, twice, then in more rapid succession. He moans, whines, groans, and with one more deep throb, he cums inside of me, and with a few last gentle strokes, he is spent.

I am like stone between us, longing now for my own release. He licks and nips at my chest and abdomen. He bites at my thighs. I ache for him so deeply, I feel tears in my eyes. When he has me securely standing at the edge of madness, longing to jump, he pushes me over.

He strokes me with quick pumps once, twice-holding my cock against my belly-then a third, final time, and I cry out his name, spraying my chest and abdomen.

He makes a great show of licking me clean with only the tip of his tongue, his crystal blue eyes gazing into mine with a flit of his dark, black lashes. I am so sensitive after my intense orgasm, that his every touch is like flame shooting through my central nervous system.

He unties my hands, running the scarf over my chest, and letting it fall, like a parade streamer, to the floor. He lays beside me on the couch. We kiss and hold each other. I feel his pounding heartbeat slow its pace, his breath soften, and with a deep, contented sigh he is fast asleep.

I admire how gorgeous he looks while asleep, his youthful visage alight with afterglow’s smile. I place a kiss atop his head, and follow him into blissful slumber.

The next morning, I wake up alone. His clothes are gone. My heart aches with despair. How I longed to wake up with him, greeting the day with his kiss.

I dress, and hear a stirring in my kitchen. I rub my eyes, and see a person standing at the stove, preparing breakfast. The form is far too shapely to be male, hair messily fixed into a loose, brown chignon. Caron.

She turns to me, eyes red from obvious crying.
“Your…Schneider left a note.”

She slides it across the counter to me.

“Richard-
Sorry I left so suddenly…
Paul called me and apologized.
Whatever feelings I have about what you and I shared last night are meaningless.
My heart belonged to him first.
Please, forgive me.
Sincerely yours,
SCHNEIDER.”

I am numb, and I barely make it to the barstool at the counter. My eyes slowly raise to meet Caron’s. She quietly places a plate of food in front of me. The last thing I want to do is eat.

“Where did we go so wrong, Richard?” she asks, monotone.
“I was hoping you knew…” I respond in the same even tone.

She sobs and approaches me. I hold her face to my chest, embracing her.

“Do you even have any love left for me? After how I’ve…”
I shush her gently, kissing her atop her head.
“I said ‘I do’, didn’t I? For better, or worse….”
I DO love her, I know I do.

Schneider had the right idea.
My feelings about what he and I shared…
are meaningless.
A great man once said,
“Meaning is not in things, but in between them.”
And in my arms, she lies, her tears her plea for my forgiveness.
The only meaning I need.
If not the meaning I want.
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Meaning