Fire

DISCLAIMER: I've noticed something. If this is a Rammstein fic on a FANFICTION site, that implies it lacks any sense of reality. Funny, no?

~*~*~*~*~

It was very much like the fire that was always a part of their shows. Richard felt as though he was going to burn anything he touched--or to be more precise, he felt as though if he even brushed up against Till, there would be burns on them both. Maybe it was the warmth that flared up in his cheeks whenever he was near him, or perhaps it was the bizarre feeling that boiled in his stomach at the thought of even being able to brush the stray strands of Till's hair out of the way of those intense eyes, but either way, he felt that the glowing wisps inside him were on the verge on devouring him whole. But this wasn't disturbing Richard nearly as much as the thoughts that came with the flames; these were thoughts of wanting to run his hand down the singer's broad chest, lacing his hands around Till's neck, and even pressing his lips against lips.

Then there was the emotion buried beneath the stoked fire: confusion. Of course, Richard really should've expected that. Till was solid and masculine--kind of like a large gem with reflecting planes cut into it by a jeweler--very much unlike any soft, dainty woman. Yes, that definitely would spark confusion. Especially when the closer Richard would get to Till, the more chaotic he'd feel inside. It would add gasoline to the fire, suddenly making the guitarist feel as though he was overheating and on the verge of suffocating; how he managed to make it this long was a mystery. Another mystery was how he had managed to keep eveything beneath his wrappings without anyone catching a whiff of what was tearing him apart inside.

Or atleast... he thought no one knew. He really did. However, the patronizing light in emerald eyes proved Richard wrong; Till knew. The very realization of this left the guitarist in an internal atmosphere that could best be described with the terms "panic" and "anxiety."

What would Till do with this new information; was it even a new light to him? Did he know all along?

Richard didn't want to leave the questions burning in his mind alone. It would leave his paranoia to run free in the darkest parts of Possibilities. He also wanted to be assured that the acknowledgement wouldn't pass on from Till to the others, so he decided to go through with what seemed like the logical solution to the problem. The guitarist didn't really like the thought of confrontation, especially with the man that made him feel as though he was being burned alive. Yet, if he opted to do nothing, what would be the consequences for him?

As he approached the door to Till's apartment, Richard also decided that he would prefer to deal with this in a place where there weren't people roaming around. However, he still rose his hand to knock on the door and rapped against solid wood. A moment of silence passed, only to be disturbed by the movement of a body and the mumblings of a deep voice. The door clicked open, the wooden slab moving to leave Richard and Till facing each other. Thus, the flames blossom into a wild fire. The guitarist stalked into the room like an agitated cat, pushing past the vocalist; Till closed the door, a frown on his face. When Richard remained silent, he asked, "Are you going to say anything?"

That triggered a reaction. "You know, don't you? You know and you act like nothing's wrong! You think it's really funny, don't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Till drawled innocently.

"Don't lie," Richard snapped coldly. "You've been laughing behind my back, haven't you? Have you told the others--" He was abruptly cut off by the click of Till's Zippo; the tip burst into a wavering red-orange glow, a cyclops with a lazy eye. The guitarist muttered something quietly, the only audible words being the vulgar ones.

"You're overreacting," Till commented, breathing out a ribbon of smoke. "Shouldn't that be my job?"

Richard opened his mouth to say something, but words failed to come out. Scowling, he turned away from Till, resisting urges to act out his frustrations on the nearest inanimate object. Till's remark was calm, contradicting the earlier amused expression that unnerved him. Shit, now he was confused and frustrated. However, his confusion only reached higher levels as he felt Till wrap his solid arms around him. Heat raced across the planes of Richard's face, humiliating him. "Oh, and I don't think it's funny," the vocalist said, his voice smooth, "if anything, I think it's adorable."

"Adorable!?" Richard exclaimed, now red-tinted from anger.

"Mm-hmm..."

The muffled reply had made the guitarist gasp; Till had buried his head in the place where Richard's neck connected to his torso, the singer's stubble tickling the vulnerable patch of skin. Lips pressed against flesh, making a trail up the curve of Richard's neck; he felt the smaller man tense beneath the light kisses and heard his sharp intake of breath.

The guitarist turned to face Till, but his eyes didn't reach his face, "Till..." he started, the tone in his voice serious, but wavering. Till placed a soft kiss on his forehead, silencing his remark, so Richard gave up, hesitantly embracing the singer. Strong hands ran over the spikes of his hair, flattening them in the process. However, the hands didn't stop there as they moved to cup Richard's face, holding him still as Till gently kissed him. A weird feeling bubbled up inside the guitarist over the soft contact, a calm breeze causing his inner fire to flicker. Their kiss parted, leaving a smile on Till's face and a look of shock and bliss on Richard's.

"Very adorable," Till mumbled, raining butterfly kisses on his face. Slowly the vocalist ran a hand down the ebony shading of Richard's shirt, taking what felt to be close to an eternity before creeping up beneath the garment to slide over smooth skin. Richard gasped, the slightly cool hand gliding playfully over the heat of his abdomen, Till's lips attempting to kiss away the blush on his face. Finally, hands met hands as Till guided Richard across the living room to the couch. He gently pushed the guitarist onto the plush cushions, leaving him lying down on his back. The singer got to his knees, his green eyes making contact with Richard's, silently asking for permission to continue; he was answered with a brief nod. He reached for the shirt, pushing it up, following the receding fabric with his tongue creating lazy, shimmering trails along the contours of the other man's body. As the curvy paths ceased, Till helped relieve Richard of his shirt, then went back to work.

Soft noises--nearly inaudible--escaped from Richard's throat. He buried his hands in Till's hair, long fingers getting tangled in the strands. Meanwhile the singer paid attention to the chest that was bared to him, running nips, kisses, and licks along it; his fingers grazed over the nipples, causing the bumps to rise and contort into pencil eraser-nubs; Richard tilted his head back as he gasped a soft, "Oh." Lips moved to the revealed neck, nipping and kissing along his Adam's apple. Once again the trails were made on his face, the softness kisses lining his nose, cheekbones, and the lids of his eyes. At this point Richard noticed the warmth building between his legs; his hands loosened from Till's hair to cup the vocalist's face. A moment of silence passed as the two looked at each other, but in the end Richard broke the the silence by bringing his lips to the singer's. It started out soft like the previous kisses until Till began to nibble on the lower lip offered to him, enjoying the soft noises it drew out. His tongue replaced the teeth, running over the lip before slipping into Richard's mouth. The pinkness ran over his teeth, over his gums, finally bumping into the guitarist's own tongue. They ran along each other like a sultry dance to a beat only they could hear and when they broke the kiss to let the cool air soothe their burning lungs it wasn't long before they started all over again.

As Richard unconsciously tugged at Till's shirt, the vocalist worked on removing the guitarist's pants. He threw the clothing off to some distant corner of the room, only then acknowledging his silent pleas for the shirt to be disposed of. He easily complied; with grace that almost seemed girlishly absurd for a man of his built, he crossed his arms lifting the shirt up and over his head. Once again an innocent garment was tossed into the unknown of the room. Hands went straight to Till's chest, running through the glossy chest hair, racing downwards, feeling muscle and the soft rise cause by an aged scar. They would have crept lower, but were stopped by Till's hands covering them. He took a firmer grip on Richard's hands, moving them away from their intended location and placing them above the head of spikes. Keeping the hands trapped by the wrists in one hand and ignoring Richard's nearly unintelligible cries, the singer ran his other hand down the body exposed to him, pausing at the hem of the boxers. He fingered the fabric for a moment, then--with Richard raising his hips--pulled them off. And yet another article of clothing went flying.

Once Till began divesting Richard of his socks and shoes, flames licked the guitarist's cheeks, signaling a wake-up call: Till had him completely nude and vulnerable before him. He squirmed nervously, suddenly feeling like a timid mouse cornered by the tomcat. Understanding his anxious movements, Till placed a kiss along his bared hips in an attempt to calm him down. It worked to an extent; Richard had stopped squirming, but the reddening fires refused to cease. The singer got up onto the couch, straddling the guitarist. His hands were ever-moving, tracing patterns on the body beneath him. He too felt like he was burning, but the fires, rather than tint his cheeks like Richard's, were blossoming down between his thighs.

The spiraling ministrations were soothing to Richard, causing his eyes to flutter shut and his breathing to slow down. It was almost enough to cause him to doze off, but then Till ceased. His eyes shot open, only to see the vocalist to get off of him. Did something happen? Till grinned, a smile that could've have been taken as either a patronizing expression or one of compassion; now that Richard thought about it, it was always difficult differentiating these expressions with the singer. "Relax," he told Richard, catching the look on his face. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to get something."

"What are you going to--oh... Oh!" Richard's face reddened even more so, defying all known laws of logic; yeah, he understood what that "something" was. As Till disappeared, he let his head flop down onto the sofa. This really was happening, wasn't it? The imagery that had haunted him and erupted into flames was shifting from his inner theatre into his actual reality. It was what he wanted, but at the same time, it was a little frightening. He had been with girls before, but they were completely different from Till. They didn't leave Richard is this position. He swung an arm over his face, covering his eyes. He wanted this, but, at the same time, wanted to push it away.

He quickly jerked his arm away from his face as he felt slightly cool hands grabbing his ankles. Till was back, a bottle of lotion lying beside him. He pulled Richard's legs up, placing them over his shoulders. Grabbing the bottle, he squirted some of the lotion onto his hand (which for some reason was citrus-scented). The guitarist gasped audibly as he felt something cold and wet slip inside of him; he panicked, tensing up at the intrusion. However, Till's soft kiss on his forehead comforted him. Richard relaxed a little, but the firm grip on the couch's cushions hinted that he was still uneasy. "Shhhhhh..." Till cooed, stealing another kiss from the other man, "just relax. I won't hurt you."

Richard whimpered as another finger was inserted in him, "Till... it hurts..."

"I know, I know..." Till repeated softly, leaning down to nuzzle his belly. "It won't hurt much longer. It'll feel better soon." A third finger slid into the guitarist, stretching him even farther. He moved his fingers around, hoping the other man adjust to the intrusions smoothly. He left circles of kisses on Richard's neck, trying to keep him calm. Another whimper escaped from the guitarist; he was still tense. Till frowned, burying his face on Richard's chest. Then the singer hit the bundle of nerves inside Richard, causing him to gasp and arch up his body with feline grace. He tipped his head back, a soft moan escaping from his throat. Liking his reaction, Till brushed that spot again, eyes sparkling at the way the guitarist's body twisted.

His head collapsed on the couch, Richard inhaled sharply. "Gott... Till..." he moaned. He liked the new sensation and the way it blossomed, choking out the ache. However, it was at this moment that the vocalist chose to withdraw his fingers, leaving the feeling growing dim. "Till..." he whispered, trying to bring voice to the dying sensations; he was silenced by the knowing look on Till's face.

The vocalist smiled at Richard affectionately, then unzipped his pants. The other man's breath quickened as he realized this passing of the last barrier, the finality of it all sinking in. He didn't even get the chance to string any relevant thoughts together before Till pushed into him. His eyes widened and he cried out. He was foolish to think that the singer's earlier invasion was painful: this was real pain. He could feel his eyes growing damp; yes, he was on the verge of tears. A stray, crystalline droplet fled from its eyelash prison, racing down Richard's cheek. However, it's run for freedom was cut short as Till lapped the tear off his cheek. He replaced the tear with a chaste kiss as some sort of apology.

They remained in that position for what felt like hours, Richard still adjusting to the pain and Till not want to hurt him. Only when the guitarist finally uttered, "Please... more," did the singer start to move. He thrusted slowly, resisting urges to just roughly pound the other man into the cushions of the couch. Richard grimaced, feeling like he was slowly being split apart. The pain screamed in his body, pleas for water to put out the fire. In a way, water arrived, as Till hit the patch inside of him. He arched his back, crying out as a cool, pleasant feeling rinsed out the pain; yet before he could delve in the sole pleasurable feeling, the spot was hit again... and again.

To Till, it was a very appealing scene. He loved the way Richard mewed and writhed before him with his head tilted back; it drove the singer to leaving kisses and nips on any section of flesh he could find. It was maddening, and he was drowning in the insanity of it all. He wanted to quit holding back, but if he let loose on Richard, he imagined the consequences would be most unpleasant. However, the restraint was starting to grow painful.

Richard caught a glimpse at Till's face, not enjoying the level of restraint being reflected in the way his eyebrows were knit together. He reached to cup Till's face which, despite the popular belief in fanfiction, was actually a lot harder than it sounded. "Till," he gasped, his voice unsteady, "please... if you want to... please... don't hold back..." Till's green eyes locked onto Richard's, a startled expression on his face. It was at that moment at the vocalist gave into his madness. He rammed into the guitarist--which ended causing poor Richard to bump his head against the arm of the sofa. His thrusts were no longer gentle and timed, but sudden and perhaps a bit too rough for good health. Richard winced, feeling dampness spreading down where they joined; common sense told his brain that he was bleeding. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to care as Till slammed into him again, puffs of lights meandering in his vision.

~*~*~*~*~

"...Till?"

"Yeah... Richard?"

The guitarist attempted to move, but wince as pain threaded it's way through his body. Hands took a firm grip on Richard, stilling him; he sighed, burying his face on Till's chest. His inner fire had died down glowing embers, but this was probably due to the fact that exhaustion was covering him. "It hurts..."

"I'm sorry," the vocalist whispered, leaving a kiss on Richard's damp hair. "But that's not what you were going to say... was it, Richard?" He heard the other man mumble something, but was unable to understand what was said. "Richard... what is it?"

"It's just..." Richard began, then bit his lip. Everything seemed right when fire and emotions had consumed them, but now that the flames were gone, he realized that, if anything, there was a bigger problem than there was before. "What's going to happen now?" he said softly, "Things aren't going to be the same, even if you want them to be."

Till chuckled, gently grabbing Richard's chin, forcing him to make eye contact. "What if I said that I don't want things to be the same?" Richard blushed, the fire inside of him brewing again, but this time they were welcomed, not shunned.

"You... want to start a relationship with me?"

That earned a smile from Till. "I'd like that," he cooed before gently kissing Richard.