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Vanilla	By : Cyndiana Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1412 -:- 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-Vanilla
- 1
TITLE: Vanilla
AUTHOR: Cyndiana
RATING: NC-17 for graphic depictions of M/M sexuality and fetishism.
ARCHIVE: A Feather in the Blood (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afeatherintheblood/)
PAIRING: Schneider/Flake
SYNOPSIS: Flake discovers Schneider’s deepest, darkest secret and all he wants is to be a part of it.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story falls just after the shooting of Mein Teil. ABOUT THE ‘FLAVORS” SERIES: This is a series I started on A Feather in the Blood, where each story's title is some sort of flavor.
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Not intended as a statement of fact. Not for profit.

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Schneider sits against the wall, knees to his chest, sobbing, makeup smearing as each great, big tear falls. I stand transfixed, not knowing what to do…what to say…My eyes roam over Schneider’s form. His slight, sturdy frame enshrouded in a black silk and lace slip dress, strappy toeless black high heeled shoes on his feet. His finger- and toe-nails painted a vanilla creamy pearl color.

“Now you know my secret Flake. Go on then, tell the others. Let them all laugh at me.” He sobs deeply.

I drop to my knees beside him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Come on, Flake, you’re always looking down your nose at me! I’m never sophisticated enough, smart enough, or cultured enough for your finicky tastes. Now here’s your chance to show them all just how depraved I am, how much better than me you are.”

I didn’t mean to walk in on him. We are staying at this house, getting our tour planned and prepared for its launch in the coming months. Our bedrooms are down a long hallway, and mine is right next to his, and I am constantly getting lost. Each door is completely identical, so I easily lose track of which is mine, which is his…And I walked into his.

I saw him leaning over a vanity, putting the last touches on his makeup. I admired his form, his feline shapeliness enhanced by the delicate silk. I was in sheer awe of him. My reverie was broken when he saw me in the mirror, and began to cry. He walked to a nearby wall, sliding down, as if he knew one day he’d be caught at this, and today was that day.

I can say nothing as he weeps.

“Go on then! Tell them!”

He lashes out at me, landing a blow across my cheek. I dare not move. I CAN’T move.

“Say something you son-of-a-bitch!”
“I’m not better than you…” I mutter, looking down at the floor.
“Nice try, Flake.”
“I envy you…” I say under my breath, as I take the space of wall beside him.
“What the fuck did you say?” he hisses.
“I envy you, all right?” I say, my own tears beginning to flow.
“Why? Why me?”

My eyes cast again to his elegant form. He is everything I’m not…Lovely, graceful, refined, no line of his body is jagged, or misplaced. Everything on me either juts out too far, or too long, or is too narrow. He is the personification of everything I long to be. Even in a dress…

ESPECIALLY in a dress…

“Flake?”
“Why NOT you?”
“What could you possibly envy about me? At least they respect you…With me it’s ‘God, Schneider, can’t you keep decent time for fuck’s sake?’ or ‘That would have been a great take, if not for Schneider’s incessant banging…They’re drums, not ex-girlfriends, ease it up.’ God…”
“They don’t respect me, they pity me.”
He looks at me with a gentle tenderness in his eyes.
I continue, “I’m the neglected one. The one who doesn’t belong. The one no one cares is there…or not…”
“That’s not true…”
“Oh, isn’t it? Why do you think I am so hard on you, Schneider? I hope maybe if I make you look less…perfect…than you are, maybe I won’t seem so…” I catch myself in a sob.
“So, what?”
“Worthless…”

I know my days with this band are numbered. I knew it the day my band mates all decided to drift away from the synth sound that set us apart from other bands. I knew it even more so when my “keyboard” turned into an over-glorified sound board. Hit one key, and play the entire synth part for the song. I have become obsolete. They could achieve the same effect as easily with a cassette recorder. I know that one day, it will be time to return to the studio, and they will forget to call me…and never remember.

“You are not worthless, Flake! Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

This coming from a man in a dress.

I chuckle softly to myself and rise to my feet.
“What’s so funny?”
“You couldn’t even begin to understand, Schneider.”
“Why? Because I’m such an idiot?” he grumbles defensively.
“No…I am.”

I turn to leave. I am now thoroughly depressed, and all I want to do is take some sleeping pills, take a swig or two of some fine vodka, and sleep my misery away.

I feel his hand touch my shoulder, and electric current surges through me.

“Flake, please…don’t go.”
I turn to him, and he caresses my cheek.
“What do you want most in this world, Flake?”

I look away, casting my gaze to the floor.
“To be you…”
“To be ME?” he questions, as if that is so ludicrous.

He indicates to his dress, trying to show that to be him is to be silly, I suppose. I curl my fingers into the soft, heavenly silk of his dress, caress his cheek.

“To be you, as you are right now.”

He smiles understandingly, and leads me to his vanity. He cradles my chin in his hand, eyeing my face. This makes me nervous. I’ve never had anyone inspect me so closely before, and it is unnerving.

He takes out a small compact, and strokes the powder onto my face. It smells of vanilla and talc, and feels lovely on my skin. When my face and neck are powdered to his satisfaction, he pulls out a tray of eye shadow. He selects a smoky blue-grey color and applies to it the corner of my eyelids. Then, a softer, glittery, almost white blue. He fills in the rest of my eyelids with this, and blends well. Then a swipe of black, liquid eye liner on my eye lids. After it is dry and set, mascara. He takes a silver kohl pencil and has me look upward, lining my lower lids and blending it. Then he takes a large, fluffy blush brush and applies a creamy peach-colored rouge powder to my cheeks. Last, he applies a soft, shimmery mauve lip gloss to my trembling lips.

He smiles, obviously satisfied with his handi-work, and places a soft, gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. I am liquefied.

He sees his own reflection in the mirror (refusing to let me see my own yet) and is disappointed by his smeared makeup, so he takes a moment to touch it up before leading me to his closet.

“Pick something out.”

I thumb over his (surprisingly VAST) selection of dresses and gowns, and smile as I recognize the women’s business suit from the Mein Teil shoot. I wondered why he INSISTED that it be tailored. I thought it was to make it look better for the video. I never imagined it was because he intended to wear it AGAIN.

I settle on a cream-colored dress of all lace. It has long sleeves, that are subtly bell-shaped at the ends, and it comes into a princess waistline. Small, pearl buttons start at its plunging sweetheart collar and end at the hem.

He takes it out and undresses me, casting my clothes to the floor. Oddly, the fact that I am nearly naked before him doesn’t make me feel as vulnerable as what he is about to dress me in.

He slides the dress over my head, careful to mind my makeup. It feels like it was made for me, as the lace slides across my skin. He leads me to the bed and has me sit. He goes to the vanity and retrieves a bottle of soft, pearl pink nail polish. He takes my right foot into his hands and paints each toe-nail carefully and blows on them until they are satisfactorily dry. Then he does the same to the left. He then paints the nails on each of my hands, blowing to dry them.

He goes to his closet and retrieves a pair of white, open-toe sandals with a modest 1 ½” heel on them. He carefully puts them on me, placing a gentle kiss on the top of each foot as he does.

My transformation is nearly complete.

He reaches around to the back of my head where my long, brown hair is fastened securely with a hair tie. He takes it out, and musses it up with his hands, bringing it to life.

He stands back, eyeing me furtively.

My chest heaves with nervousness.

He hasn’t spoken this whole time, and all I can do is wonder if he approves of me.

He smiles broadly and offers me his hand. He guides me to a full-length dressing mirror. My eyes are closed. I can’t open them. I can’t bear to see how gawky and awkward I look in this get-up. He places his lips by my ear, as if sensing my apprehension.

“It’s ok, Flake, open your eyes.”

My breath gets caught in my throat as I do. All of my rough, over-exaggerated features are softened by the makeup. The dress highlights my curves, and its full-length hem smoothes out the rough edges of my legs and knees.

“See how lovely you are?” If I was looking down upon this spectacle from, say, the corner of the room, like a fly, I might have burst out laughing. But living it, I realize I’ve never experienced anything so beautiful. This gift he was giving me was priceless.

He nuzzles my neck, kissing it gently. I shudder from the feeling. He means to consummate this strange union, and I readily oblige. He kisses me tenderly, and I let my hands run up and down his back, relishing the sensation of the silk, and the movement of his shoulder blades underneath as they move with the motion of his hand that is running through my hair.

He guides me to the bed and sits me down. He kneels at my feet, taking my left one and removing the shoe, kissing the top of my foot, the instep, the ankle. I bite my lip and moan softly, as he proceeds to do the same to my right foot. He lets his hands snake their way up my legs, lifting the skirt of my dress with them. When it rests across my thighs, he kisses them, and presses his tongue into the crevice between my right thigh and the right side of my groin, moving it in circles. I moan aloud, reeling from the sensation. Then he does the same to the left side, painted finger-nails tracing shapes and patterns over my stiffening crotch.

Oh God, I’ve never felt such deep, penetrating sensations of pleasure before…and I never want them to stop.

He slides my underwear off, and kisses my aching erection. Not filthily, but lovingly, then he takes me into his mouth, sucking with slow, methodical strokes.

Oh God...

I shake furiously from rapture and anticipation as he pulls away from me and walks to his bedside table, retrieving a bottle of vanilla and lavendar scented lubricant.

He seductively slides his hem of his dress higher and higher, revealing his own arousal to me. He is clean-shaven, and the skin looks so soft, I have to touch it. I run my fingers over his erection…his soft, hairless testicles….And he moans deeply, the maleness of the sound betraying the femininity of his form…But the stark contrast only serves to excite me more.

He lubes himself up well, and lays me down onto the bed. I undo the top few buttons of my dress, and he kisses and sucks at my sternum and nipples as he slides into me. I cry out from the equal measures of pleasure and pain his penetration offers me. I lift my legs to allow him further access. When he is inside me fully, he makes love to me with long, slow strokes. He isn’t rushing a thing, and I am glad.

Our lipstick smears as we kiss desperately and hungrily, like two lost souls clinging to one another for safety in a storm. I wrap my hand into the silk of his dress, holding tightly as waves of unimaginable pleasure over take me. My back arches higher and higher as the sensation becomes more and more intense. Our voices call out desperately, the only beacons to guide as back as we both become lost in the haze of ecstasy.

He whispers in my ear such sweet words.
“Oh my beautiful Flake…My elegant angel…You are worth more than gold…”

Great tears splatter upon my cheeks, soaking the pillows below me, and he licks and kisses them away. Soon we both reach our end, his seed filling me with a comforting warmth, and mine staining my dress and his.

He collapses atop me, and for what seems like forever we kiss and caress, soon removing the dresses and letting them fall to the floor. We let our lips and hands explore each other’s bodies. He smiles sweetly.

“Do you still want to be me?”
“No…now I simply WANT you…”
He kisses me passionately.
“I’m yours, Flake, so long as you’re mine.”
“If you want me.”
“There’s no treasure on this earth or in heaven I could ever want more.”
I laugh softly.
“What?”
“I guess now you know I’m not as vanilla as the others would have you think.” I say, chuckling softly.
“Perhaps not…but you are by great measure more sweet.”

With one last deep kiss, we fall asleep in one another’s endless embrace.

DIE ENDE
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Vanilla