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I feel you, each move you make
I feel you, each breath you take
Where angels sing and spread their wings, my love's on high
You take me home, to glory's throne, by and by
This is the morning of our love
It's just the dawning of our love.*©
2019, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
On the spur of the moment, Paul heads for the other end of the stage, to Richard's side, with a sly smirk plastered to his face and a significant amount of determination in his step. Well, perhaps he isn't being quite honest in this particular case – what he is intending to do isn't happening all that spontaneously, after all.
The thing is, over the past several weeks, ever since his and Richard's conversation about the prospects of a possible future together, Paul has been falling more and more in love with the man, despite the three decades which should really have dulled the feelings instead of intensifying them to the extent of Paul not being able to take his gaze off Richard's shining eyes and his hands off his bandmate's voluptuous forms. Except, this is precisely what is happening – as if the decision to finally become partners in the most unambiguous sense of the word has given the two of them a surge of new hope and thus boosted the feelings which have never been dull to begin with.
And it's not only the physical attraction, far from it. The desire Paul has always felt for Richard is complemented by this ever-present – he would say nagging if it weren't so immensely pleasant – need to be with him, to see him smile, to hear his laughter, to be the subject of his affection, to bask in his attention and love. As a matter of fact, the laughter and the inner radiance spilling from Richard's eyes have become significantly more frequent and prominent over the past month or so, too, driving Paul even more delirious with desire for his fellow guitarist. He cannot resist any of it for the life of him, nor does he wish to, not anymore, not now when Richard is finally his – only his – to have, to love and to be the recipient of his return feelings. If he is blindly in love – let it be so, the two of them have surely deserved a period of peace and quiet to dedicate it solely to loving each other and nothing else.
So it's not really on the spur of the moment that Paul struts towards his bandmate, a plan of sorts formed in his head. He has no idea as to how Richard might possibly react to what he is intending to do, but Paul doubts it might backfire and get Richard mad or something of that sort instead – after all, currently, his fellow guitarist seems to be as much of an idiot in love as Paul himself.
The riffs in Du hast have always been powerful enough to induce the impression of being omnipotent, and the lighting on stage is of just the right kind to suit what Paul is going to pull off in a moment – flashes of it which illuminate the stage only to leave it in the darkness the following second. It will provide the perfect amount of cover for the two of them but will most likely leave a few piquant details for the audience to see. Paul is not certain that the audience absolutely needs to see what he is planning to do, but, given the fact of his and Richard's very serious intentions in terms of their relationship, the two of them need to start somewhere. So, without second thoughts, Paul decides to take the matter into his hands and start right here and now.
Besides, Richard looks too damn good to just let him bask in fame, glory and adoration on that far end of the stage, with his nose arrogantly pointing upwards.
Paul saunters towards him across the stage, his eyes feasting on the gorgeous forms, the radiant eyes and the beaming smile, his fingertips literally itching to flutter all over those curves and muscles. He doesn't hesitate a moment once he comes close enough, simply leaning in and delighted to see Richard moving towards him, too, and then there it comes, his lips leaving a kiss on Richard's lips. It is brief yet it is, unmistakably, a lover's kiss all the same, warm and a little moist, their mouths lingering against each other for a fraction of a second before he moves back with a victorious grin that he is totally unable to suppress.
The look Richard gives him is a little startled but doubtlessly pleased, and the fact that Richard's fingers falter for just a heartbeat on the strings of his guitar makes Paul even more self-righteously complacent. There are a few cheers coming from the front rows, but that is all, no major disaster ensuing from his bold prank. With a wink, he grins at Richard even more widely and, having received a nod and a smile in return, he struts back to his place on the stage, with a spring in his step, fluttering in his stomach, fuzziness in his chest and an utterly lovestruck smirk plastered to his face.
This is proving to be a good place, a good gig and a good start of the year, all things considered.
After the concert, there are quite a few jokes from the rest of the band and their friends concerning his little shenanigan, and among them all, the Schneiders seem to be particularly pleased, with the man of the family apparently feeling gratified that his efforts of the past ten years or so directed towards making the two of them stop trying to tear each other's throats and start behaving like normal people have finally come to fruition. Paul isn't quite certain that they will be all that enthusiastic once they learn about the nature of the performance he has in mind for the upcoming tour, but that is not to be fretted upon at this point. First things first, he has to make his plans known to the most important person who should be directly involved in it, and that is Richard.
It isn't the night after the gig that Paul shares his thoughts with him, though. No, this particular night is reserved for other, much more pleasurable and delightful, activities rather than for any serious discussions. Those activities involve a warm afterparty with friends and family – and in both his and Richard's cases the only family they have here in Mexico is each other, which is exceptionally nice for a change and just as promising. At some point, they end up on the shore, listening to the waves roll onto the sandy beach and gazing at the cloudless star-studded sky, sipping cocktails with fancy umbrellas in them and relishing each other's company, away from the hustle and bustle Joe has created for the farewell party for the fans and the crew. They chat a little about this and that and have a few laughs, this being mingled with slightly tipsy kisses and horrendously romantic barefoot splashing along the waterline hand in hand.
Ridiculously, at the age of fifty four, Paul is feeling younger than he has felt in years, and this time it isn't due to his notorious prankster personality but solely because of his being absolutely, unconditionally, helplessly in love with the man that is plodding through the water beside him, unbuttoned white shirt and light summer pants rolled up to his knees making him look like some fancy French movie star on a spontaneous escapade to the sea coast. The association makes Paul fall a little more in love with him, even though more doesn't seem to be humanly possible at this point. Still, he doesn't miss an opportunity to steal a few kisses from Richard, and with both of them being slightly drunk, they finally end up in the ocean, laughing and sputtering and now soaking wet whilst trying to scramble their way back onto the shore.
Back in the hotel room with a gorgeous view over the moonlit ocean, albeit full of intentions to continue this night in fashion and make love to each other slowly and with gusto, they somehow fall asleep in a half-sitting position, their backs leaning against the headrest of the bed and fingers intertwined, whilst gazing at the soothingly murmuring ocean and not even saying much to each other, Richard's cheek resting cosily on Paul's shoulder.
The following morning finds them very gradually waking up to greet it as they lounge in bed, enjoying the unhurried start of the new day with nowhere to run to, with all the time in the world on their hands to do with it whatever they feel like. The breeze brings in fresh salty air which caresses Paul's bare skin with the warm tenderness of a lover, waking him up gently and unhurriedly. It reminds him of Richard's caresses, and even still being half-way in the land of dreams, Paul yearns for them, for the sensation of Richard's skin beneath his fingers, for his kisses. Languidly, he shifts his position over the bed until he can feel Richard's body against his own and then snuggles closer to him, feeling safe and pacified in his presence. To his delight, he feels Richard's arm wrapping around his middle and pulling him a little bit closer into the heat of his body. It isn't hot in the room, the morning freshness perceptible in the air before the sun has heated it to the point of unbearable, so it is pleasant to revel in this additional source of warmth. With a smile which is smothered into the pillow, Paul allows his hand to slowly make its way from Richard's wrist and up along his arm, rubbing it lazily and feeling the muscles tensing beneath the skin as Richard tightens his hold around Paul's waist. Simultaneously, there is a soft press of his lips to Paul's neck as they leave a trail of sleepy kisses along his spine, pressing a peck to every single vertebra with excruciatingly leisurely precision.
Paul remembers himself wondering what Richard feels when he holds him, and he realises he most probably suddenly has the answer to it at last, thirty years later and on a drowsy morning when his thinking ability should by all means be still sleeping. While Paul has always been helplessly drawn to Richard's sturdy muscled build, the heavenly curves of his hips and chest and stomach and the solid weight of his body, from the way Richard is kissing him now, all those standing out bones of his spine and shoulders and from the way his fingers rub and stroke his collar defined bones, ribs and hipbones, Paul thinks he finally has the idea of what exactly thrills Richard about him. Funnily enough, for some reason, over the thirty years of the intimate relationship they have been involved in, they have never discussed this. Paul supposes Richard must know just how much his body drives Paul mad – it would be hard to miss it with the way Paul must devour him with his eyes every time, and then with his hands and mouth, too whenever he has the chance – and it has never been a secret that Richard has always been attracted by slimness, both in women and men, but it suddenly seems that it is only now that Paul understands it fully as those fingers, slow and thorough on his body, touch him with the gentleness that is so akin to the tender breeze from the ocean which wheezes into the room through the open windows.
Unable to hold back a quiet moan of pleasure and delight, Paul arches his back a little, simultaneously pressing his behind into Richard's groin – and he isn't disappointed to feel the hot hard flesh against the crack of his buttocks – and bringing his face closer to Richard's. He turns his head, seeking his lover's lips with his mouth and is granted a warm moist kiss a moment later.
They kiss slowly and for a long time, both still languid from sleep, with Richard's hand unhurriedly finding its way from Paul's neck, thumb running a softest of caresses over his larynx, to his chest, teasing his nipples and thus making Paul shudder, to his stomach, a fingertip tickling his navel and moving on further still until it reaches Paul's morning erection. In his ear, there is a drowsy hum of appreciation as Richard's fingertips take hold of it, sliding along his shaft, slowly drawing the delicate skin back and forth, the motions synchronised with those of Richard's pelvis as he rubs himself against Paul's buttocks. When Paul's condition becomes way less sleepy and demands much more attention, the fingertips are substituted by Richard's whole hand, taking a proper hold of him now and making Paul dig his own fingers into the muscle of Richard's thigh, pulling him closer and encouraging him to switch to a more enthusiastic mode. Richard does just that, willingly enough, squeezing Paul's cock and simultaneously thrusting harder against his ass, leaving a few smudges of slickness on Paul's skin.
Richard's other arm sneaks its way under Paul's neck, holding him in place, not letting Paul move away from his mouth, stealing every single moan and gasp of pleasure right from his lips, now tingling from their long morning snog. Paul squeezes his eyelids shut, almost literally undone by all these various sensations, Richard's slick tongue twisting and turning in his mouth, his arm holding him securely around his chest, his hot flesh rubbing teasingly against his behind, his hand on Paul's cock making him let out moan after moan after moan, all of this done with love that is tangible in his every single touch and kiss. Paul isn't sure which of them comes first; him crying out into Richard's mouth and digging his fingers into the meat of his thigh and into the muscle of his forearm, or Richard, muttering his name whilst holding him in his vice grip and thrusting convulsively against his ass; the only thing Paul knows is that this is the best place he has ever been in his life, in Richard's arms and with Richard's lips on his own, hearing him confess his love over and over again.
The start of the year couldn't be more proper, he muses still breathing heavily and with his heart still racing, the surge of pleasure gradually subsiding to a calm sort of satisfaction which seems to be slowly spreading through his whole body, making his limbs tingle abd leaving them relaxed. Truth be told, he cannot quite remember when he last felt as blissful as this. His relationship with Arielle has long grown cold as far as their intimacy was concerned, routine and familiarity taking their toll, and even though they did have satisfying enough encounters most of the time, it still wasn't sufficient for him. He has always wanted more than a female body could offer him, and the only person who could provide him with what he craved for was Richard, somehow from day one innately knowing how to make him feel so good that he was on the verge of forgetting his own name.
It has always been good with him, yet over these past several weeks, whenever they slept together, it managed to surpass even that level of good which had been the standard for many a long year, and only now is Paul slowly starting to comprehend just what exactly their mutual decision to finally be properly together is doing to their lives. He used to think he was happy with Richard – and he was, indeed – but this is so much more than he has ever felt in that respect. The love has a lot to do with it, but love was there before, so perhaps it is this realisation of belonging to no one else but each other finally making them both take what they have had for thirty years seriously. Suddenly, Paul realises he never really felt that family bliss even at time he thought he did, neither with Arielle nor with any other one of his women. For that matter, he never felt it with Richard, either, despite having been friends and lovers and colleagues and everything in between for the past thirty years.
That is, until now.
Moved and filled with gratitude, for the time being unable to shape anything in words, Paul finds Richard's hand with his own and gives it a squeeze, long and firm. As a response, instead of words, he receives a kiss on his cheek, just as long and just as firm, making him shut his eyes tightly in silent euphoria.
"I love you," he exhales, soundlessly, simply incapable of containing it within himself.
Richard is apparently still rather out of touch with his speaking ability, so there is just another kiss, and another one, and another one, every single one of them threatening to make Paul melt into a pathetic little puddle of ultimate bliss. And what the hell? he decides. He deserves every single molecule of it, and so does his lover.
"Why'd you do that?" Richard asks after a long while, when the sky has acquired a brighter shade of blue and the temperature in the room has crawled up a couple of degrees, his voice still heavy from the recent release but with amusement detectable in it.
"Did what?" Paul hums, turning his head over the pillow to give Richard a glance, not quite following his train of thought. "Did when?"
"That kiss on stage," Richard clarifies with a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yesterday."
"Well, it really was long overdue, wasn't it?" Paul quirks an eyebrow at him, smiling at the peacefully content expression in Richard's eyes, and then goes on, "Just felt like kissing you, to be honest," he replies frankly enough. To him, this has always been enough of an excuse to justify everything. "It seems I've been feeling like kissing you a lot as of late. You didn't look like you minded it much, though."
"I didn't mind it at all," Richard huffs.
"You know what's strange? No one even seemed all that stunned or scandalised by it. In the audience I mean. Like that was nothing out of ordinary," Paul chuckles recalling those few whoopies and whistles from the crowd.
"Were you trying to create a scandal of sorts?" Richard raises an eyebrow, rolling onto his side to face Paul.
With the body he has, he looks as wonderfully debauched as some ancient god of wine and gluttony, those magical hips and belly and breasts enticingly curving and his softened cock exposed shamelessly, all drawing Paul's hungry eyes to themselves.
"Thought you said you just wanted to kiss me, mm?" Richard goes on, obviously pleased with Paul's reaction to what he sees.
"A good scandal should never be underestimated," he chuckles. "That said, it didn't seem like me kissing you managed to create one, all it accomplished was turned me on for the rest of the gig."
"Well, you know, in some sense, it might not have been anything out of ordinary, not all that much anyway," Richard says contemplatively, now looking a bit more thoughtful. "Come to think of it, they've been waiting for us to do just that for quite a while; I've seen stuff here and there on the internet, photoshop and drawings and other things. Some even claim we've been married to each other for years," Richard snorts. "Can't say they're totally wrong on this."
"Married?" Paul echoes, suddenly struck by an idea which is utterly outrageous and yet at the same time outrageously reasonable.
He also rolls onto his side, propping his head onto the heel of his palm, giving Richard a proper look. It is funny how just a month or so ago, Richard joking about him proposing seemed so completely ludicrous and how now the prospect doesn't even qualify as strange in Paul's perception. He reflects on the idea whilst he is looking at Richard, trying to call his common sense into action and find at least one good reason why this idea must seem to him absolutely bizarre. Them being men, them being members of a world-famous band, them having a long history of misunderstanding and confrontations, them having families of their own – none of those factors actually appear as critical as they did before. They have been men sleeping with each other almost all their lives; the matter of Rammstein is still tricky as far as how they should handle their decision to be together from now on is concerned, but since both have agreed that the band isn't going to stand between them, it's not a problem either; their conflicts were left in the past as the recording of the newest album showed very clearly; and there are no families anymore to serve as a decent excuse not to be together.
"Uh-huh." Meanwhile, Richard confirms with a nod, most certainly blissfully ignorant of what is happening in Paul's head at this very second. "Guitar husbands, they say."
Paul chuckles, the term sounding both absurd and very close to reality.
"What if I asked you to marry me for real, huh?" he murmurs speculatively. "Would you say yes?"
Richard squints back at him with a complacent smirk, seemingly not taking Paul seriously at all, but, damn, having known him for thirty-odd years, he probably should. He may be bubbling with ideas bordering on insane from time to time, but hey, a lot of them turn out to be realistic enough, even if initially sounding somewhat far-fetched.
"Ask away," Richard nods with a huff, still looking unbothered by anything.
Paul swallows, itchy with a weird kind of inner excitement. He is feeling as if he was about to play some absolutely outstanding prank on the whole damn world. He is also feeling a little mad. And very, very much in love. If they are going to be together in any case, then…
"You're the only person I've been faithful to for thirty years, Richard. Hell, I wasn't faithful to Arielle for that long," Paul says almost dreamily. "I wasn't faithful to her at all, come to think of it, not with loving you for three decades."
He shakes his head as he scuttles a little closer to Richard, which leaves just a few inches between their faces, his fingers brushing through the tousled black mess of Richard's hair.
"You can't be fucking serious," Richard mutters in reply, complacency leaving his voice without a trace as his eyes widen in what must be sudden comprehension of what Paul is about to say to him.
"It does make sense," Paul nods, both to himself and to Richard. "Let's get married?"
Richard only stares back at him for a while, saying nothing at all, obviously taken aback to the point of being speechless. Then, somehow dreamily, he cups Paul's cheek with his hand, his touch so feather-light as if he were afraid to make Paul disappear, and lets it slip to the back of Paul's head, pulling him to himself until his lips are right against Paul's ear. Paul feels his heart doing a few somersaults in his chest, ending up throbbing somewhere in is throat and making it hard to breathe.
"Richard?" he whispers, voice unsteady and on the verge of betraying him because, hell, he is suddenly feeling so nervous he cannot quite handle his speaking ability. Who could have thought…?
"Yeah," his lover and friend of so many years whispers back in kind, right into his ear, making Paul shiver both from the physical impact of it and the psychological one caused by Richard's answer. "Let's do it, baby."
And then, all of a sudden, Paul breaks into laughter, the quiet kind yet so genuinely euphoric he is somewhat surprised by the sound of it as well as by how ridiculously simple and right the decision is. Still chuckling, he crawls on top of Richard, burying his face into the cosy nook between the pillow and the side of his neck, trying to hug him the best he can in the position they are in, entangling their legs together in an attempt to become even closer, their naked bodies fitting so very perfectly.
"We don't even have to make it known to anyone," Paul mutters, lips brushing over his lover's warm skin. "It is just for you and me. Seems right somehow, after so many years."
"It seems absolutely batshit crazy, if you ask me," Richard hums and shakes his head, yet Paul feels his arms wrapping him into such a familiar tight embrace that it is clear that he doesn't mind a little bit of insanity all that much. "I have a condition, though."
"Which is?" Paul asks, realising he would most probably go along with anything in a state like this.
It's not like he has got much to give up for Richard – he has already given up his family and he really hopes they won't have to give up on the band, but if push came to shove… The worst thing which could happen is that he would have to give up Richard himself, but it doesn't seem likely in the current circumstances, so yep, he will probably be unable to help going along with whatever Richard will ask of him.
"We'll have a honeymoon," he states in a voice which will tolerate no disagreement whatsoever, the familiar steel notes in it so prominent, those very notes which used to drive Paul up the wall at some point, the sound which made him want to slam his fist right into Richard's face and then his own head into a brick wall. Looking at those notes from the current perspective, with Richard actually demanding not a damn guitar solo, not to do everything his way and make the whole record technically his, but, of all things, asking for a honeymoon, it makes Paul laugh out loud again, happily.
"Alright," he nods without any hesitation whatsoever.
"Just you and me," Richard goes on, as if still doubtful as to whether Paul is really willing to consent.
"Just you and me, love," Paul confirms, at the very back of his mind remarking, a little detached and rather taken aback, that he never ever wanted to promise that to Arielle.
This is certainly not how Paul was planning to start the morning – marriage proposals haven't been on his agenda for many, many years – but, by a lucky twist of fate, it becomes a reasonable enough introduction to what he has been meaning to discuss with Richard. So, he finally decides to speak and share the beginnings of the ideas he has, now a bit more certain and shaped in light of his and Richard's sudden plans to engage in a family affair with each other which overlap with the oncoming album release and the subsequent tour.
"You know what I thought?" he asks, moving back and resuming his place beside Richard, head once again resting on the palm of his hand.
"You're wondrously prolific this morning in terms of thinking," Richard chuckles but this time looks at Paul with a good measure of suspicion. Well, he probably has the right to be a bit suspicious now, all things considered. "Should I start getting concerned, after all?"
"Perhaps," Paul smiles. "But I have no problem with sharing it with you even if you say I'm completely out of my mind. Maybe it's old age and approaching senility but for some reason I'm growing more willing to listen to you as years go by."
"I can't come up with anything which is more insane than getting married to your colleague at the age of fifty-something," Richard scoffs but his eyes still look so radiant that they speak more eloquently than his words as to what he really thinks of it all. "Spill it. It seems I have finally grown used to your lunatic plans and even started to see some sense in them, or maybe even like them."
Paul grins at him and then is unable to resist the desire to place a little peck on the very tip of Richard's nose.
"I thought we could use it to our advantage," he says when he has accomplished just that.
"What? Our marriage?" Richard raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head. "God, even saying it out loud sounds insane."
"You'll grow used to it," Paul sniggers and then goes on, a bit more seriously, " But I'm actually talking about the whole thing, us being together."
"Well, I figured as much, that it should be for our mutual advantage," Richard smiles. "Thought it was the whole point of it?"
"I mean, we could use it with regard to the band and the album promotion and the tour as well," Paul says, watching Richard's reaction carefully because, even if this idea seems rather reasonable to him – it also has to be admitted that it doesn't do that all the time – Richard's opinion on it is still just as vital, because it's not really about the band and the tour but solely about the two of them and their relationship.
"Hmm?" Richard hums, now looking more intrigued than incredulous.
"Well, we both think that people will have to be told about us somehow," Paul sighs, "I wouldn't give a damn about it and leave everything as it is, but if we go on with the band, they will most likely know sooner or later, and I'd really prefer for it to come from us than from some scandal in a tabloid."
"Thought we agreed on that much, uh-huh," Richard nods, thankfully not looking anything close to scandalised as of now.
"That's what I'm talking about. You said so yourself, those guys in the audience weren't all that surprised, so I just thought, what if we made it a part of the performance? That could work."
"Us kissing?" Richard inquires, once again looking somewhat taken aback. He's obviously not particularly impressed with the idea, but Paul doesn't consider it to be a cause for concern just yet. After all, he's had thirty years to learn how to persuade Richard. It doesn't work out all the time, but increasingly frequently as years go by.
"Oh come on, drop the scepticism," Paul huffs and playfully slaps at Richard's hip. "You loved it, and, besides, what we did at gigs before wasn't too far from it anyway. I'm not suggesting going all over each other, but a trick like yesterday could work, I think. Both in terms of people getting used to seeing us like that and… well, such things sell well, too. And we could create a nice little provocation along the way."
"Will you ever get tired of provoking people?" Richard asks with a smile.
"Do you really expect me to answer that question?"
Richard only laughs in response, closing his eyes and rolling over on top of Paul, lips landing gently onto his cheek, then his mouth, then his jaw and the side of his neck. Paul lets out a sigh of pure satisfaction from feeling the familiar weight pinning him to the bed, more weight than there used to be, granted, but it is also complemented by those marvellously soft curves of Richard's body, which don't quite manage to hide the tough core underneath the soft exterior. He allows his hands to grab handfuls of those hips, pulling Richard closer possessively, relishing the knowledge that he finally has every right in the world to be possessive. Goddamn, in a state like this, he doesn't mind every soul in the universe knowing just how inexplicably happy he is at the moment.
"Well, you let me go ahead with the ideas I had for this album," Richard says softly after a while, "I guess it would only be fair if I let you go ahead with the ideas you have for its promotion and the tour itself. And we'll see how such approach will work out."
"I guess it will work out nicely enough as long as we both agree on what we do," Paul murmurs. "We're good as a unit, you were right about it all those years ago."
"It seems like it's finally all fair and square between the two of us," Richard lifts his head to grin at Paul. "You said yes thirty years ago when I was trying to drag you into Rammstein, and so have I just now."
"Then to thirty more years of this, huh?" Paul grins back up at his lover, feeling exceptionally happy.
And for the first time in his and Richard's long relationship, it doesn't seem unforgivable anymore. Hell no, this is what the two of them have deserved, both the success and the love, and this, balmy mornings by the ocean spent with each other without any stray thoughts of having to part and go back to other homes, other beds, and other people waiting for them in those beds.
"You know what's funny, though?" Richard asks with an amused smirk on his lips.
"Hmm?" Paul hums encouraging him to share whatever it is.
"That what I'd been trying to achieve throughout all those years attempting to persuade all of you to actually go and play somewhere on the New Year was escaping as far away from home and those family affairs as possible; hated it all with passion my entire life. And yet here I am, neck deep in a family affair with you, and I couldn't be happier."
"Perhaps because we're finally doing it right?" Paul asks with a smile.
"I guess we are," Richard sighs then leans down to him to place another kiss on Paul's smiling lips. "Happy New Year, love."