The Devil May Care
Well..I guess I should explain a few things concerning this.
Characters:
Till is a bookkeeper, he is Christoph's lover.
Christoph is a priest who is Till's lover. Everyone thinks he's gone off the deep end since he talks about an angel named Richard.
Paul is Christoph's therapist who <3's Chris, lolz. He's not in this chapter.
Richard is Christoph's angel. End of story.
The time is in the late 1870's, I haven't thought any further about that. Yes I'm aware gays were horribly prosecuted for being gay, that's why they aren't all "FLOWERS AND DAISIES AND I LOVE YOU." Deal with it.(sorry for sounding bitchy there :( )
ALSO!!!! This is not the completed chapter one, I just wanted a little bit of feedback on it so far.
And UBER thanks to my beta, KorakiDrakos! Who sat up with me until 1:30 AM to help me. ^^ <3
Title: The Devil May Care 1/?
Author: Karkahn
Prompt: No prompt
Claim: Rammstein(AU)
Pairing: Till/Christoph, Richard/Christoph, Richard/Till(maybe?)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Till has a meeting with an angel
Warning: Homosexuality.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rammstein, Till Lindemann, Christoph Schneider, Richard Kruspe, and Paul Landers are (c) Themselves! (Otherwise I'd be one happy fangirl ^_~)
The gentle ticking of the clock lulled Till, his thoughts following the rhythm it provided, his mind wandering to the man who lay upstairs, sleeping soundly, dead to the world and the illusions of his mind.
He knew he should be sympathetic for his lover, maybe even humor him a little when he spoke of his angel Richard rather then think bitter thoughts and mentally scoff at the idea of a fantasy receiving more attention then himself. He tried, most of the time he really did, but he couldn’t help but be jealous of the non-existent angel. His mind had long since supplied an image of the man for him, tall like Christoph, dark hair falling about his neck and shoulders while his bright eyes shone with adoration and love; he was lean and muscled, probably from the tiger reference the priest often made when he referred to the angel.
Till never had appreciated the tiger image, too often he’d heard Christoph whisper to him that he was near and then he’d look up at him with those blue eyes shining with fearful tears and cuddled closer for warmth while Till thought of a large cat pacing outside their bedroom door with quiet growls and gentle curses.
Across the room the clock chimed a new hour, the sound of the small bell chiming shrilly drew him out of his thoughts for a moment. He didn’t know how many times it went off and he couldn’t be bothered to pull out his pocket watch. He slumped a little more in his chair, glaring at the far staircase beyond the doorway like a petulant child as he thought of the reasons why his priest was sleeping now, in the middle of the day.
Christoph had complained over breakfast that he hadn’t slept in almost three days, said that Richard was upset with him and no longer speaking to him, interrupting his sleep cycles just to lower his defences (whatever that meant). Till had passed by his room a short while later and heard him talking, supposedly to Richard, and not wanting to disturb his lover he’d simply left him be without bothering to tell him lunch was ready. An hour later he’d approached again, hoping his one-sided conversation was finished and found himself instead listening to the soft snores of an over-tired priest.
A soft sigh left his lips; perhaps it would be better if he let a doctor look at his lover. He’d thought it over a number of times and always came to the same conclusion; he didn’t want another man fussing over his Christoph like a cat with only one kitten, simply to decide he needed a straightjacket and a one-way trip the asylum. No, he was going to help Christoph on his own and he’d be damned if he was going to let some imaginary angel take his place in his lover’s bed and heart.
He looked up when he thought he heard his name called by a soft voice, one that sounded melodious and gentle, like a lover sighing softly in one’s ear. Upon seeing no one else in the room, he stretched as much as he could while sitting in his chair, his back protesting with soft pains as he arched it.
He reached up to touch the nape of his neck when he felt a cool breeze ruffle the short hairs there, his fingers tugging gently at ones that fell out of place. A shiver ran down his spine as the draft brushed over him again and again he reached up. His hand froze in mid-action when he realized that there were no windows in the room, his eyes widening slightly as his stomach clenched in icy fear upon this realization. With a strange numbness, he turned slowly to look behind him, his mind conjuring images of demons or possibly thieves who’d broken into the house in search of valuables. Instead, he stared at a bare expanse of wall.
”Over here.” The voice teased again, and again Till turned, this time to his right where he’d clearly head it speaking behind him, the hot breath feathering over his neck and cheek while lips just barely brushed the shell of his ear. Once more, there was no one there, a soft chuckle made him start and he saw a man standing in the doorway that allowed Till a view of the stairs.
He was tall, just a few inches shorter then himself it appeared, his lean chest visible beneath his open white shirt, the tail on the right side just starting to slip free of the belt holding the black pants on his thin hips. His dark hair stood in a disarray of messy spikes a top his head, the dim light throwing out the red highlights in the brown locks as he leaned his head against the frame of the door, looking like a puppy begging to be let back into the house. His eyes were large and bright, the color impossible to determine and holding not only an animal innocence but wicked knowledge.
Till found himself staring at the other man, silently wondering just how he’d gotten into the house without being noticed and also vaguely thought about the fact that he could see a good deal of pale flesh stretched over the firm muscle of his abs. He distantly noted that he was a married man, who was married to another man… the man upstairs actually…. So why was he still staring at the one in the doorway?
“I don’t mind, please, continue.” The stranger’s eyes were shining with feline amusement as he pulled his hands from his pockets and pushed away from the doorframe. “I’m sure our beloved won’t mind either.” He mused quietly as he walked towards Till’s chair slowly, the bookkeeper’s eyes locked on his hips as he moved with the slightest sway to them. He dropped himself into his lap, sitting on his lower thighs while he wrapped an arm around his shoulders with a quiet purr as the other’s hands settled on his hips instinctively.
Till blinked in quiet surprise as he realized the man had been addressing his thoughts with his previous statement and let his hands fall away from the warm body pressed against him to place them on the arms of the chair. “Who are you?” He finally demanded after a moment, placing one hand on the other’s chest to push him away but he didn’t move, simply stared down at Till, his nails scratching at his shoulder gently.
“After all our pretty priest has told you about me you don’t recognize me?” He asked, impatience clear in his tone and the way he gripped Till’s shoulder, long nails biting into the cloth almost viciously.
“Richard?” He breathed the name quietly, watching those bright eyes shift from blue to amber as his lips quirked up in a smirk and his grip loosened slightly.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He purred, leaning back slightly to look over the mortal. “Such a perfect animal…” He breathed, his free hand trailing over the bookkeeper’s chest. “How I could have enjoyed being your lover, my beautiful creature. You wouldn’t have been as easy to break.” Richard’s smirk only grew at the puzzled and slightly angered look that crossed over Till’s face at his words and he slid off his lap to circle behind the chair and grip his shoulder’s roughly. Forcing him to sit when he began to rise with a strength that he could only describe as obscene.
Richard laughed quietly above him as Till gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles were turning white. “So you are Christoph’s angel?” He asked quietly and frowned when he laughed a bit louder.
“In a way.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Till snapped, turning his head to glare the man behind him but a hand forced him to turn away to stare at the staircase once more.
“Have you ever realized just how much Christoph could do if he just opened his eyes and looked? He’d be worshipped more then God himself, a true Golden Calf.” There was a short pause where Till silently wondered just how an angel could speak in such ways when he heard the other laugh loudly again. “O the admirable sacrilege of it all!” His nails cut into Till’s shoulders as he leaned over to speak directly in his ear, his voice dropping to a quiet purr, or a loud hiss, soft lips just barely brushing against his ear as he spoke. “If he opened his eyes and realized the effect he has on men, he could steal a sailor from the arms of a whore with a simple look. Does that thought cross your mind Till? Perhaps when you watch him sleep? I know it does.” Till shuddered when he felt a warm, wet tongue trace over his ear and a soft kiss was pressed behind it, followed by a quick nip.
Characters:
Till is a bookkeeper, he is Christoph's lover.
Christoph is a priest who is Till's lover. Everyone thinks he's gone off the deep end since he talks about an angel named Richard.
Paul is Christoph's therapist who <3's Chris, lolz. He's not in this chapter.
Richard is Christoph's angel. End of story.
The time is in the late 1870's, I haven't thought any further about that. Yes I'm aware gays were horribly prosecuted for being gay, that's why they aren't all "FLOWERS AND DAISIES AND I LOVE YOU." Deal with it.(sorry for sounding bitchy there :( )
ALSO!!!! This is not the completed chapter one, I just wanted a little bit of feedback on it so far.
And UBER thanks to my beta, KorakiDrakos! Who sat up with me until 1:30 AM to help me. ^^ <3
Title: The Devil May Care 1/?
Author: Karkahn
Prompt: No prompt
Claim: Rammstein(AU)
Pairing: Till/Christoph, Richard/Christoph, Richard/Till(maybe?)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Till has a meeting with an angel
Warning: Homosexuality.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rammstein, Till Lindemann, Christoph Schneider, Richard Kruspe, and Paul Landers are (c) Themselves! (Otherwise I'd be one happy fangirl ^_~)
The gentle ticking of the clock lulled Till, his thoughts following the rhythm it provided, his mind wandering to the man who lay upstairs, sleeping soundly, dead to the world and the illusions of his mind.
He knew he should be sympathetic for his lover, maybe even humor him a little when he spoke of his angel Richard rather then think bitter thoughts and mentally scoff at the idea of a fantasy receiving more attention then himself. He tried, most of the time he really did, but he couldn’t help but be jealous of the non-existent angel. His mind had long since supplied an image of the man for him, tall like Christoph, dark hair falling about his neck and shoulders while his bright eyes shone with adoration and love; he was lean and muscled, probably from the tiger reference the priest often made when he referred to the angel.
Till never had appreciated the tiger image, too often he’d heard Christoph whisper to him that he was near and then he’d look up at him with those blue eyes shining with fearful tears and cuddled closer for warmth while Till thought of a large cat pacing outside their bedroom door with quiet growls and gentle curses.
Across the room the clock chimed a new hour, the sound of the small bell chiming shrilly drew him out of his thoughts for a moment. He didn’t know how many times it went off and he couldn’t be bothered to pull out his pocket watch. He slumped a little more in his chair, glaring at the far staircase beyond the doorway like a petulant child as he thought of the reasons why his priest was sleeping now, in the middle of the day.
Christoph had complained over breakfast that he hadn’t slept in almost three days, said that Richard was upset with him and no longer speaking to him, interrupting his sleep cycles just to lower his defences (whatever that meant). Till had passed by his room a short while later and heard him talking, supposedly to Richard, and not wanting to disturb his lover he’d simply left him be without bothering to tell him lunch was ready. An hour later he’d approached again, hoping his one-sided conversation was finished and found himself instead listening to the soft snores of an over-tired priest.
A soft sigh left his lips; perhaps it would be better if he let a doctor look at his lover. He’d thought it over a number of times and always came to the same conclusion; he didn’t want another man fussing over his Christoph like a cat with only one kitten, simply to decide he needed a straightjacket and a one-way trip the asylum. No, he was going to help Christoph on his own and he’d be damned if he was going to let some imaginary angel take his place in his lover’s bed and heart.
He looked up when he thought he heard his name called by a soft voice, one that sounded melodious and gentle, like a lover sighing softly in one’s ear. Upon seeing no one else in the room, he stretched as much as he could while sitting in his chair, his back protesting with soft pains as he arched it.
He reached up to touch the nape of his neck when he felt a cool breeze ruffle the short hairs there, his fingers tugging gently at ones that fell out of place. A shiver ran down his spine as the draft brushed over him again and again he reached up. His hand froze in mid-action when he realized that there were no windows in the room, his eyes widening slightly as his stomach clenched in icy fear upon this realization. With a strange numbness, he turned slowly to look behind him, his mind conjuring images of demons or possibly thieves who’d broken into the house in search of valuables. Instead, he stared at a bare expanse of wall.
”Over here.” The voice teased again, and again Till turned, this time to his right where he’d clearly head it speaking behind him, the hot breath feathering over his neck and cheek while lips just barely brushed the shell of his ear. Once more, there was no one there, a soft chuckle made him start and he saw a man standing in the doorway that allowed Till a view of the stairs.
He was tall, just a few inches shorter then himself it appeared, his lean chest visible beneath his open white shirt, the tail on the right side just starting to slip free of the belt holding the black pants on his thin hips. His dark hair stood in a disarray of messy spikes a top his head, the dim light throwing out the red highlights in the brown locks as he leaned his head against the frame of the door, looking like a puppy begging to be let back into the house. His eyes were large and bright, the color impossible to determine and holding not only an animal innocence but wicked knowledge.
Till found himself staring at the other man, silently wondering just how he’d gotten into the house without being noticed and also vaguely thought about the fact that he could see a good deal of pale flesh stretched over the firm muscle of his abs. He distantly noted that he was a married man, who was married to another man… the man upstairs actually…. So why was he still staring at the one in the doorway?
“I don’t mind, please, continue.” The stranger’s eyes were shining with feline amusement as he pulled his hands from his pockets and pushed away from the doorframe. “I’m sure our beloved won’t mind either.” He mused quietly as he walked towards Till’s chair slowly, the bookkeeper’s eyes locked on his hips as he moved with the slightest sway to them. He dropped himself into his lap, sitting on his lower thighs while he wrapped an arm around his shoulders with a quiet purr as the other’s hands settled on his hips instinctively.
Till blinked in quiet surprise as he realized the man had been addressing his thoughts with his previous statement and let his hands fall away from the warm body pressed against him to place them on the arms of the chair. “Who are you?” He finally demanded after a moment, placing one hand on the other’s chest to push him away but he didn’t move, simply stared down at Till, his nails scratching at his shoulder gently.
“After all our pretty priest has told you about me you don’t recognize me?” He asked, impatience clear in his tone and the way he gripped Till’s shoulder, long nails biting into the cloth almost viciously.
“Richard?” He breathed the name quietly, watching those bright eyes shift from blue to amber as his lips quirked up in a smirk and his grip loosened slightly.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He purred, leaning back slightly to look over the mortal. “Such a perfect animal…” He breathed, his free hand trailing over the bookkeeper’s chest. “How I could have enjoyed being your lover, my beautiful creature. You wouldn’t have been as easy to break.” Richard’s smirk only grew at the puzzled and slightly angered look that crossed over Till’s face at his words and he slid off his lap to circle behind the chair and grip his shoulder’s roughly. Forcing him to sit when he began to rise with a strength that he could only describe as obscene.
Richard laughed quietly above him as Till gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles were turning white. “So you are Christoph’s angel?” He asked quietly and frowned when he laughed a bit louder.
“In a way.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Till snapped, turning his head to glare the man behind him but a hand forced him to turn away to stare at the staircase once more.
“Have you ever realized just how much Christoph could do if he just opened his eyes and looked? He’d be worshipped more then God himself, a true Golden Calf.” There was a short pause where Till silently wondered just how an angel could speak in such ways when he heard the other laugh loudly again. “O the admirable sacrilege of it all!” His nails cut into Till’s shoulders as he leaned over to speak directly in his ear, his voice dropping to a quiet purr, or a loud hiss, soft lips just barely brushing against his ear as he spoke. “If he opened his eyes and realized the effect he has on men, he could steal a sailor from the arms of a whore with a simple look. Does that thought cross your mind Till? Perhaps when you watch him sleep? I know it does.” Till shuddered when he felt a warm, wet tongue trace over his ear and a soft kiss was pressed behind it, followed by a quick nip.