The air is cold and humid. Clinging to his skin, evoking an involuntary shudder that ripples through him as he paces through the courtyard of the countryside villa, the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head. His hands are in the pockets of his cargo pants. His exhales emerge visibly in the chilly air. He shuffles his way across the grass, kicking up leaves. Crickets chirp all around him. His flip flops smack noisily against the stone path that leads up towards the cabin-esque building that Schneider, Richard, and Till are sharing. He probably should’ve put on something more stealthy. He wasn’t really thinking. He just had to act. Had to rush out of the claustrophobic entrapment of his temporary bedroom. So here he is, announcing his presence through the outrageous slapping of his flip flops. Damn it.
Once at the front door leading into the building where half of their bandmates sleep, he steps out of his flip flops, snatches them up, leaving himself barefoot for the sake of remaining undetected. Even when away from the rest of the world, recording another album in the privacy of this villa, he still feels enclosed, somehow. Constantly watched.
As quietly as he can manage, Ollie grips the elegant handle of the front door, presses down on the latch to unlock it, and pulls it open slowly. The heavy wood creaks at the hinges, albeit not loud enough to be concerning. Letting out a breath, he steps inside, and carefully shuts it behind himself. Barefooted and wielding his flip flops, Ollie traverses the cold, dark entryway to seek out the door he’s looking for.
A small building, with two opposing sides. One side with a homey kitchen, two bathrooms, one bath. The other side, three bedrooms. Schneider’s is on the far right, furthest from the front door. It’s only 22:00. Maybe he’s still awake. Probably reading, knowing him.
Approaching, Ollie hesitates at the door. He furrows his brow, staring at the wood distantly, contemplatively. Does he really want to cause risk, for the sake of his own comfort?
He hears shifting from inside. The creak of a bed. Footsteps. The groan, slide of a window being pushed upwards. The crickets can be heard from where Ollie stands. Knowing he’s awake convinces him. Ollie grabs the handle and quietly turns it to push open the heavy door, slowly. He peeks in to see Schneider standing at the window with his hands resting on the sill, head turning to look at him with surprise on his handsome (and yet somehow beautiful) face.
“Hi,” Ollie begins softly, sliding into the room through the slim opening he made for himself. He shuts the door quietly behind himself. Schneider’s lips turn up into a warm smile. It soothes Ollie’s worry. He sets his flip flops down on the floor by the door. Then he brushes back the hood from his head before crossing his arms, his hoodie hanging loosely around his torso. He speaks in a low murmur with his meek eyes trained up on Schneider, “Sorry for the intrusion. I wanted to see you.”
“Somehow you read my mind,” Schneider replies with a slight grin growing on his face. He turns to him and reaches up to brush his curls out of his face, saying, “The crickets are so loud tonight. Do you hear this?”
He gestures towards the open window and then laughs, in that rather adorable way he does. Ollie smiles. He crosses the room to join him at the window and rests his shoulder against the frame of it, peering out towards the trees behind the lodge. The stars are stark tonight. Ollie glances towards Schneider and says, “They’re serenading us. Eager to join us in our production, maybe.”
“We should have a duet of Till and the crickets.”
What are they even talking about right now? Ollie smiles to himself, amused, and sweeps his gaze along Schneider. He’s wearing his pyjama pants and a simple black shirt. He looks handsome. The way his short curls frame his face, his pretty, thin lips in a smile, his blue eyes roaming across the view beyond the window. Ollie rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, his face flushing as his heart begins to race. This always makes him nervous. They’ve been doing this even before Rammstein formed, and yet Ollie still can’t overcome his uncertainty around the other man. Schneider just flusters him.
Boldly, Ollie reaches out and curls his broad hand around Schneider’s forearm, his fingers shaky and shy. His skin is hot. Schneider glances at him with wider eyes, his smile becoming softer. Seeing the expression on Ollie’s face has his warm smile returning. Ollie searches in his kind blue eyes as he murmurs, “Can we sit down?”
Schneider’s smile broadens into a slight grin. He nods. He withdraws his arm from Ollie’s hand to instead take it with his own. He squeezes his fingers. Ollie’s heart jumps. They move to sit together on the bed. Schneider immediately scoots closer and turns to him. Ollie looks at him with flustered surprise when the other man cups his face, fingers resting along his sharp jawline, thumb against his cheek, and leans in to kiss him.
It’s as if he knew exactly what he wanted. Schneider was always bolder than he is, when it came to this sort of thing.
Eyes rolling shut, Ollie’s hand slides up over Schneider’s thigh, squeezing the muscle of it. Schneider is warm. The crickets chirping outside join the sound of their moving lips, the back and forth pursing of their mouths that remains chaste and loving. Ollie feels content and totally overwhelmed at the same time, somehow. He loves being with Schneider in this way, and yet, it makes his heart race and his thoughts completely scatter.
Schneider’s curls brush against his cheeks as they kiss. The hand cupping his face slides around to cradle the back of his head, clutching him closer, pulling him in. Their mouths overlap together, gradually deepening as the kiss lingers, an intense sharing of their exhales, the taste of one another. Ollie realizes Schneider is bearing his weight into him only when Ollie begins to lean backwards from the weight of him. He props his hand against the bed, but then Schneider murmurs against his mouth, “Lay back.”
Ollie makes a noise, muffled against his lips, and obeys. He collapses back onto the pillows of the comfortable bed—noticeably big enough to hold the both of them. His legs end up haphazardly draped atop the bed and Schneider’s thighs. Schneider shifts closer, opening his legs to slot himself between them. Breathing heavily, Ollie looks up at him with wide eyes as Schneider leans in to kiss him again. Schneider’s hands are on him. Sliding up over his thighs, to slip underneath his hoodie. Stroking across heated skin, fingers fanning out over his belly, feeling his body hair. He pushes his hoodie up to his chest, exposing his heaving rib cage and the gathering of dark hair along his muscular pecs.
The kiss is heavy and intimate; Schneider mashes his lips against Ollie’s, who in turn weakly returns it, overwhelmed and breathless. Brow furrowed and eyes pinched shut, Ollie feels like he’s being completely consumed as Schneider steals his breath from him through this intense sharing of their lips. Only when Ollie begins gasping for air, head craning back into the pillows, does Schneider break away to bite and kiss across his sharp jawline, down across his throat.
“Schneider, wait—” Ollie begins thickly, panting, his hands raising to rest gently on Schneider’s shoulders. Schneider pulls back and looks at him with questioning blue eyes, his curls messier and thin lips swollen, kissed. Ollie brings his hand down from Schneider’s shoulder to wipe his mouth off before murmuring, “Where are the other two? Is this alright to do?”
A slight smile grows on Schneider’s lips. He nods. He kisses Ollie between his eyebrows and presses their foreheads together.
“They went out to drink at the lake. They told me. And you know them. They could be out there for hours, talking about, oh, you know, everything and nothing.”
Ollie snorts. He nods against Schneider’s forehead, feeling emboldened and comforted by that knowledge. Schneider pulls away to look down at him fondly. Ollie searches his face, his heart feeling unusually fluttery and light, gazing at him like this. He reaches up to stroke the back of his fingers over his cheek, and then turns his hand to caress his lips with his thumb.
“Let’s get this off of you,” Schneider murmurs with a smirk curling at his mouth. He plucks the drawstring of the hoodie as an indication. Ollie moves to sit up. Schneider grabs it and eases it off of him, exposing the entirety of his naked torso. He tosses the hoodie onto the floor and then runs his broad hands over Ollie’s sides, up to his chest. He grabs his pecs in his hands, squeezing so tightly it hurts. Ollie’s jaw clenches from the pain of it. Blood rushes straight into his dick. Schneider watches himself grope at Ollie, nails digging into his skin, watching the muscle flex under his hold.
“You have a perfect body,” Schneider says lowly, nearly a growl. Ollie swallows hard and drifts his tongue between his lips. Schneider searches his flustered face, smiling himself, and then leans in to kiss him again. Ollie furrows his brow. Schneider doesn’t for long, unlike Ollie anticipated. He only purses his lips against his mouth a few times and then withdraws just enough to search in his eyes—their noses touch.
Ollie is swallowed by the beauty of Schneider’s striking eyes, gazing into them with his breath held. He reaches out to thread his fingers delicately through Schneider’s soft curls, watching the way they twist around his fingers like vines.
“Schneider,” he murmurs, his embarrassment reclaiming its place and holding his tongue. His heart is beginning to race. He licks his lips, face hot, his brow furrowed. Schneider recognizes this shyness and prompts him gently with an encouraging hum. He leans in to nuzzle into his jaw, his nose and lips drifting across his cleanly shaven cheek.
“I-I want you to do what you did last time.”
“You mean what you asked me to do?” Schneider murmurs gently, his voice smooth and deep, spoken so close to his ear it has a shiver running down Ollie’s back. He turns his face into Schneider’s neck, bringing one muscular arm around his back, clinging to him. He nods.
“I want to do it again.”
Ollie’s face is on fire. Why is he so easily flustered by this sort of thing, even after all this time? Maybe it’s because it’s Schneider. The difference in confidence when it comes to this sort of thing. The age gap between them, which inherently comes with a rift in experience. Not to say Ollie is inexperienced with sex, just inexperienced with this kind of sex. And Schneider just has this way about him that drives Ollie crazy.
“Yeah,” he whispers.
“You know what to do,” Schneider murmurs with a firm tone of voice, pulling back to search his face, “Should you ever change your mind, tell me. If you can’t tell me, then tap out.”
Licking his lips, Ollie nods. They’ve done this enough times that it all goes without saying, though he knows Schneider is only being careful. Schneider looks into his eyes, searching for any reluctance or uncertainty which he does not find. He leans in to kiss Ollie gently; a slow, soft purse of his lips that Ollie returns with his arm tightening around him in an embrace. He clutches at Schneider’s silky curls, fingers threading amongst them tenderly. Schneider kisses gingerly at his bottom lip, his chin, his jaw with sweet presses of his lips. Ollie smiles faintly, warmed by the chaste, loving feeling of those kisses.
Then Schneider sits back from him, kneeling between his haphazardly spread legs. He strokes his broad hands down over Ollie’s front, his fingers following the swell of muscle along his chest, the valleys of his abs, the slender dip of his waist and over his protruding hips. He watches his touch descend, caressing warm skin and flexing muscle. Then his piercing blue eyes flick up to watch Ollie’s—his hand lifts from his hip to reach out and curl slowly around his throat. Ollie sucks in a breath, gazing at Schneider with wider eyes. Heart beginning to race, he clutches at the quilt underneath them.
Tightening his grasp around Ollie’s throat, Schneider exerts enough pressure just to feel like he’s being choked without stealing his breath. He pins him back against the pillows. Ollie drops his head down against them, eyes rolling shut. The feeling of Schneider’s hot, calloused hand clutching around his throat turns him on. That tight, squeezing sensation that has his blood roaring, his mouth falling agape and brow furrowing. He feels him begin to work on the button and zipper to his cargo pants with his other hand, tugging at it harshly to get it open. Ollie grunts, lifting his hips for him to hook his fingers into the waistbands of both his briefs and pants to roughly yank them down to his thighs. His stiff cock flips up against his heaving belly.
Cracking his eyes open, Ollie looks down through hazy eyes to see Schneider staring at his rock hard dick with a hungry look in his eyes. In a long, warm stroke, he roams his broad hand up over his balls and across the length of his erection, earning a shudder from the younger man. Curling his fingers around the base, he then leans in to let a thick wad of spit drip down, to join his grip. He begins to stroke at him, letting the slickness of his spit act as a lubricant. Ollie watches with a grimacing face.
Schneider tightens his hold around his throat. Ollie makes a choked noise. He continues holding firmly at the covers, knuckles whitened. Blood is rushing through his ears. His entire body is on fire. Schneider watches his face with mischief in his eyes, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he touches him with a confident hand, his big fingers rubbing across the sensitive head of his aching cock. Ollie’s eyes roll shut, his mouth remaining agape. Arousal courses through his belly.
The hot, wonderful grip on his cock suddenly leaves. Instead, without warning, it reconnects with his cheek; a shocking, abrupt slap to his face that has his eyes snapping open. His entire face erupts with hot pain, like lightning. Schneider leans in towards him, a darkened expression gracing his features as he grabs onto Ollie’s strong jaw, snarling, “Keep your eyes on me. When did I ever say you could look away?”
Ollie swallows hard. He watches Schneider obediently, fearfully, his cheek throbbing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers shakily, fear and excitement alike roaring inside him, like a tsunami. Schneider doesn’t seem happy with this. He withdraws his hand, and Ollie anticipates it immediately—Schneider slaps him again, the sharp whip of his palm against his cheek jerking his head from the force of it. That time, he nicked his ear. His vision spins, his cheek on fire. Fuck.
“What did I tell you?” Schneider snaps, grasping his jaw once more, digging his fingernails into his cheeks, convincing anger on his face, “I expect only respect from your mouth when you dare to speak to me. Try again.”
Ollie blinks slowly, trying to work through the disorienting slap, until he regains enough coherency to speak lowly, strained past the unrelenting grasp on his throat, “I’m—I’m sorry, sir. Please… Don’t hit me again. I’ll be good, sir, I promise.”
Schneider seems to be placated by that. He releases Ollie’s face, leaving behind a reddened cheek and nail indentations in his skin. Ollie slumps back into the pillows, though this time, he keeps his weakened eyes trained on Schneider. Schneider kisses at his chest, over his heart, his curls brushing across Ollie’s skin. Ollie relaxes a bit. He watches Schneider move further back, keeping him pinned to the bed by the hold on his throat as he descends to kiss at his hip and muscular thighs.
Then he nuzzles his face into his flushed cock, earning an involuntarily jolt from Ollie’s legs. The developing stubble on his jaw hurts against his dick. Schneider knows this. He watches Ollie with a smug look on his face as he pointedly rubs his jaw and chin up against his shaft. Ollie whines sharply and jerks his thighs, eyes squeezing shut before snapping open again to watch him obediently. Schneider grins and does it again. He lets his stubbled jawline roam up along the underside of his cock, to stroke over the sensitive frenulum. Ollie sobs, a strangled noise past the hold on his throat.
“Shut up,” Schneider growls lowly, a warning, as he shoves his head back into the pillows with the tight grip on his throat. Ollie makes a weak noise, though he holds his tongue. Schneider then refocuses on the fun part: torturing him with sensation. He angles his head to nip gently at his balls, to catch the sensitive skin between his teeth. He moves upwards, biting gingerly at his shaft, up to the head. Ollie groans in pain, his muscular thighs clenching and tensing from the feeling. His dick is painfully hard, throbbing against his abs despite it.
Then Schneider angles it up, shifts closer between his legs to suck the dripping head into his mouth. Ollie moans, a choked noise. He watches with lidded, hazy eyes as Schneider sucks his dick, his cheeks hollowing and eyes flicking up to watch him in return. He begins to bob his head, sucking tightly at him as he repeatedly takes him into his mouth. Ollie’s eyes roll, his head dropping back into the pillows. Schneider doesn’t punish him for breaking eye contact—he just continues blowing him with his hand tightening, squeezing around his throat. Ollie is struggling to think straight, or think at all, for that matter. His entire body is thrumming with pleasure, with pain, with desire. His head is beginning to throb.
The wet, vulgar sounds of Schneider sucking him into his mouth fills the room, joined by Ollie’s gasping and moaning. He’s getting close. Schneider isn’t stopping. He sucks firmly at him, so tightly it’s bordering on too much. Ollie’s groans deepen as his orgasm approaches. It’s coming up fast. Schneider takes him deeply into his mouth again and again, a perfect hot, wet sensation engulfing his sensitive cock repeatedly. His body begins to quiver. He pulls at the quilt under them, panting heavily before he slurs out, eyes rolling, mouth agape, “Schneider, I’m coming, I’m coming—”
Schneider stops. He pulls off entirely, letting Ollie’s wet cock drop against his heaving abs. Ollie goes limp atop the bed, breathing heavily. Schneider moves to sit up. Then he reaches down to grab Ollie’s balls, squeezing hard enough it hurts. Ollie cries out and tries closing his legs, reflexively, his eyes widening and training on Schneider. Schneider’s face is stony, his cheeks flushed and lips wet. He grips his balls, squeezing to an unbearable degree which has Ollie fidgeting desperately, his hands flying down to grab at Schneider’s wrist as he moans, “I’m sorry, sir! I’ll do better, I’ll do better, please, please—"
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Schneider growls, letting his tender balls go if only to grasp his hands and shove them away. Ollie looks at him with a pleading expression, his face on fire from a plethora of shame, humiliation, pain, pleasure. A pulsating pain throbs through his balls. He wants to massage them to alleviate it, though he knows that would be met with punishment. Instead he bites his lip and whispers lowly, “That was wrong of me. Sorry, sir.”
“Stay there,” Schneider murmurs, voice steely and eyes cold. Ollie nods, dropping his gaze with remorse. Schneider first curls his fingers into the waistbands of his pants and briefs to yank them down and off his legs entirely, leaving him totally bare. Then Schneider gets up from the bed, tossing them aside. He snatches his own jeans from his suitcase if only to tug his belt out from the loops. Ollie really does not know if he plans to use that as a restraint, or as a tool to whip him. It excites him either way. His erection had flagged a bit from the punishment to his balls, but blood easily bursts southward at the sight of the belt.
Schneider steps back to the bed, reaches out to grab Ollie’s bicep.
“I want you to kneel,” he growls, tugging him off the bed without waiting for him to catch up. Ollie ends up slipping off the bed, his knees meeting the hardwood with a noisy thud that rattles the nightstand—his hands barely fly out in time to catch himself. Collapsed at Schneider’s feet, Ollie immediately moves to kneel in front of him, his hands shaking. Panning his gaze up, Ollie sees the obvious bulge of Schneider’s boner through his pyjama pants. Damn. That’s hot. Ollie wants to reach out and feel it, to grope at him. To feel his arousal in his hand. But he can’t.
He looks up into his fiery blue eyes, apprehension and pleading in his own. He feels so small, kneeling on the uncomfortably hard floor in front of Schneider, seated back on his calves with his broad hands resting flatly atop his muscular thighs. It’s times like this that he feels especially vulnerable. And he thrives on it.
“Don’t move,” Schneider sternly says. Ollie nods, ducking his head. Schneider steps around him and kneels behind him; he grabs his wrists, locking them together with one hand, and then fastens the belt around his wrists and forearms, restraining him. Ollie tests the tightness of the leather; he can barely move his forearms. Schneider really did not give him any ability to escape if he so tried. Ollie certainly would find a way, but not with ease.
Stepping back around to face him, Schneider reaches out to cup his warm hand under Ollie’s jaw, easing his head up to regain his gaze. Ollie looks up at him with pleading eyes, his tongue nervously wetting his lips. Schneider strokes his thumb across his cheek, his face unreadable with those striking blue eyes searching in Ollie’s.
“Do you want to please me?” Schneider murmurs, standing over him with such a domineering aura that it momentarily silences Ollie’s voice. Schneider’s curls frame his face, his expression stony and eyes stern. The way he cups Ollie’s jaw. How he is still completely clothed, and Ollie is bare of any modesty, naked in every sense of the word. Vulnerable in his nudity, in his inferiority. Ollie feels like he’s kneeling like a worshipper, and Schneider his master.
The length of Ollie’s silence is intolerable. Schneider removes his hand from his jaw to strike him across the face with a violent swing of his palm against his cheek. Ollie hadn’t anticipated it; he’s thrown from the force and his lack of preparation, collapsing against the side of the bed, unable to catch himself with his hands. His face had already been stinging from the force of Schneider’s previous strikes. His cheek throbs, his skin a fiery hot. Schneider waits patiently for Ollie to right himself again. Ollie uses his shoulder to push against the side of the bed, giving himself leverage to sit up and rest his weight back on his calves. He looks up at Schneider with beading tears in his eyes. Schneider does not look pleased.
“Answer me when I ask you a question,” he murmurs, dangerously. Ollie nods. He blinks, trying to rid the building wetness from his eyes.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Ollie whispers, and then takes in a breath before he continues, looking up into his stern blue eyes, “I do want to please you. Always.”
“Then please me,” Schneider remarks, reaching out to stroke the back of his fingers over the side of Ollie’s face. Ollie shudders, nodding. Schneider removes his touch. Ollie looks up at him, unsure of what he wants, but considering Schneider crosses his arms and stands before him, waiting with an arched brow and a slight smile on his face, Ollie presumes he wants him to make the next move. So, he shifts closer on his knees—which doesn’t feel good on the hard floor—and then looks up at him with shy eyes as he asks softly, “Can I touch you, sir?”
Schneider nods, saying nothing. He doesn’t move. Ollie bites his lip, his face heating with bashfulness. He pushes past the unavoidable meekness that always overcomes him when the focus is entirely on him. He leans in and nuzzles into Schneider’s belly, through his sleep shirt. He smells good. He uses his nose to nudge the fabric out of the way to kiss at his belly. This is nice. He likes this. Ollie smooches over the hot skin of his stomach, along the waistband of his pyjama pants. The light hair along the skin tickles his face. Ollie smiles to himself. He peeks up at Schneider, sees a weaker look in his eyes.
That glance evokes a reaction from him: Schneider uncrosses his arms to reach down and gently cup his hand over the back of Ollie’s head. Ollie’s embarrassment increases from the touch, but it doesn’t interrupt his confidence, either.
Curling his back, Ollie then kisses along the rather blatant outline of his cock, pushing up against the soft fabric of his pyjama pants. He mouths at it boldly, up along the shaft, until he finds the head. He closes his lips around the round shape through the thin fabric and licks into it, wetting the fabric. He kisses and licks at that spot, until Schneider makes a huffing moan under his breath, stroking his broad hand along the back of Ollie’s neck. Arousal burns like a smoldering fire in Ollie’s belly, his cock hard and standing stiffly between his thighs. Ollie then carefully bites the waistband of his pyjama pants between his teeth to draw it down as best he can manage, until Schneider’s rock hard dick slips out from underneath to rub against his face.
He can hear Schneider’s breathing deepen. Ollie wants him so badly, in every shape and form.
Overcoming his shyness, Ollie lets himself nuzzle into his groin. The soft curls of hair around his shaft tickle against his nose, the heat of his cock burning against his cheek. His own erection aches, smelling him, feeling him like this. Schneider is gripping the back of his neck firmly, digging his thumb into his skin in a dominating gesture that only contributes to Ollie’s utterly aroused state. Ollie angles his head so he can lick at his balls foremost, letting his hot tongue lathe across them almost worshipfully. Schneider grunts from above. Ollie feels oddly right like this; his arms bound tightly behind himself, hands lax, eyes closed with his face in Schneider’s groin.
But he can’t resist the temptation any longer. He sits back on his heels, stares at his stiff cock. He’s really quite hung. Not to an obscene degree, but he’s always just been a bit bigger than everyone else. Ollie supposes it matches the rest of him. And he’s beautiful. Uncut, elegantly curved. Ollie wants him in his mouth.
He leans in to nuzzle into it with his nose sliding along the underside. Schneider’s hand continues cupping around the back of his head, an intimate touch that lingers—which Ollie appreciates. Ollie kisses along the shaft, up to the head which peeks out past his foreskin. He then withdraws to repeat the process, this time with his tongue. He lets it slide up along the underside, until he finds the head and dips his tongue into the opening of his foreskin, tasting pre-cum. He flicks his eyes up to look into Schneider’s as he tongues at the slit of his cock. Schneider’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are fiery, cheeks rouge.
He brings his other hand down to grip the base of his cock, pulling back his foreskin to reveal the pink head of his dick in its entirety. Ollie doesn’t have to be told to; he sucks it into his mouth and rises up onto his knees to gain a better angle. He nurses tightly at it, eyes closed and brow furrowing. Schneider moans, clutching the back of his neck again.
Ollie begins to blow him in earnest. He bobs his head, sucking him deeply into his mouth, enjoying the heat and taste of him on his tongue. Schneider’s initial moan seems to be the first and only; Ollie can tell he’s repressing his noises as Ollie sucks him off. The vulgar sound of the act fills the room, joined by Schneider’s heavier breathing. Ollie is so painfully hard, dripping lines of pre-cum onto the floor, but he can’t do anything but kneel there, unable to alleviate the desperate need to touch himself.
“Hold still,” Schneider murmurs, his voice thick, before he cups both hands around the back of Ollie’s neck. Ollie peeks up at him, obediently waiting for him to do as he wished. Schneider watches him with an open mouth and flushed cheeks as he slowly pushes into his mouth, letting his shaft slide deeper and deeper, until Ollie is coughing and his nose meets Schneider’s belly. Schneider repeats the motion, until he’s pumping faster and faster into his mouth, deeper into his throat. Ollie is coughing and choking throughout it, his eyes clenched shut and face flushing deeply, spit dripping from his lips. He can withstand it until he can’t any longer; he ends up gagging with a reflexive curl of his back at a particularly deep thrust. He pulls back and coughs up spit, looking up at Schneider with wet eyes and a red face, panting heavily.
He tenses up when Schneider lifts a hand, cocking it back, and then slaps him again, a jarring strike that rings through Ollie’s entire head, his body jerking from the force of it. Ollie moans in pain, eyes rolling, cheek flaring up with agony. Tears spring to his eyes. He blinks heavily and looks up at Schneider. His face is stony, brow furrowed.
“You can do better than that,” he snarls, grabbing Ollie by the jaw again. He pulls, forcing his mouth open. Ollie looks up at him with weaker eyes as Schneider guides his dick back into his mouth to push it past his teeth and across his tongue. Ollie chokes, eyes squeezing shut, his hands clenching into fists behind his back. Schneider clutches the back of his head with both hands, holding him still as he pumps his hips forward, smoothly pushing deeper and deeper into his mouth until he’s in his throat and Ollie is coughing around him, spitting up saliva with a strained grimace on his face. The wet, dirty sound of Schneider fucking his throat joins Ollie’s grunts and coughing, until Ollie gags again and twists his head away out of reflex. He coughs, drooling obscenely with reddened eyes and tears simmering on his lower lids.
He looks up at Schneider pleadingly. Ollie is still painfully hard, his dick dripping generously between his quivering thighs. Schneider is obviously displeased. He lifts his hand, Ollie clenches his eyes shut just as he swings it forward to slap him, hard. Ollie collapses against the side of the bed, grunting in pain. He makes a pitiful noise alike to a sob—his face hurts so fucking bad. Schneider grabs his bicep and roughly sits him back up, before grabbing his jaw. Ollie looks up at him with a grimace twisting his features. The tears break free from his eyelashes to drip down his face.
Schneider steps closer, gripping the base of his cock to rub the wet tip across Ollie’s lips. With his head bowed, curls shrouding his face, eyes wide and fiery, Schneider is both beautiful and haunting. Ollie looks up at him with weak, dripping eyes as he slowly sucks his dick back into his mouth. Schneider’s eyelids falter, his mouth falling open slightly. Schneider grunts and carefully arches his hips forward, his dick sliding deeper into his mouth. Ollie coughs and furrows his brow, continuing to look up at him unwaveringly. Schneider slapping him, albeit a little gentler, on the face as he pushes into his mouth has Ollie flinching and clenching his eyes shut. The tears that had been building on his waterline break free to join the mess on his face.
“Keep going,” Schneider growls, grabbing painfully hard at his jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks, “You’re going to make me come.”
Ollie whimpers around him, hands in fists behind his back, his knees aching, his legs cramping, face pulsating. He obediently begins to bob his head, sucking his cock deeper into his throat—now he’s a little more in control, without Schneider shoving in carelessly, which makes it easier. He manages to deepthroat him, his face pressed to Schneider’s flexing belly, his throat convulsing around his dick as his gag reflex begins to rear up. He pulls back before he could choke. Looking up at Schneider with watery eyes and a flushed face, Ollie nurses at the head of his cock, his cheeks sucked in and lips secured tightly around him. Schneider groans lowly, eyes fluttering shut.
That was hot. Ollie shifts on his knees, incredibly turned on. He begins to bob his head again, sucking him into his mouth again and again, until suddenly the hand gripping his face curls around his throat, squeezes hard, and pushes him off. Ollie sits back on his heels and looks up at him with a weak expression, his eyes becoming hooded as Schneider chokes him with his fingers squeezing tightly around his throat. Schneider is looking down at him with a heat in his eyes. He reaches down to begin stroking at himself, while he steps ever closer. He lets his wet cock rest on Ollie’s face. Ollie pants against it, moaning deeply in his throat, a little contorted from the grip on his throat.
Schneider keeps his thumb pressed against his shaft to pin it to Ollie’s face as he rubs it across his nose, over his cheeks, smearing a mixture of saliva and pre-cum on his skin—Ollie sticks his tongue out, trying to guide it back into his mouth.
“You fucking slut,” Schneider laughs, digging his thumb into his neck, earning a choked noise from Ollie. Then he lets go. Instead he curls that hand affectionately around the back of his head, holding him still as he slides back into his willing mouth. He pumps into his hot mouth, moaning with his mouth agape, eyes clenching shut. Ollie sucks greedily at him, aroused and horny to a blinding degree.
It doesn’t last as long as Ollie had anticipated; Schneider suddenly rips his cock out of his mouth. Schneider is tugging at himself with a tight hand, his face in a grimace. His eyes are cracked open, just enough to watch as his ropes of cum shoot out to land in thick stripes across Ollie’s face—Ollie flinches, gasping. Schneider doesn’t let him move away with the hand cupping the back of his head. He slowly pulls at his flushed cock, wringing out the remaining droplets of his cum that settle in the dip of Ollie’s chin and lips.
Ollie is frozen, looking up at him with wide eyes. His cum is hot on his face, across his cheeks, his lips, his nose, over his forehead. Schneider is panting heavily, stroking at himself languidly, his chest heaving, mouth open. He looks both beautiful and sexy, his curls framing his flushed face. Ollie could watch him forever.
Schneider lets his spent shaft go, and instead sets his hand atop Ollie’s face. He rubs his semen across his skin, smearing it down over his face, across his clenched eyes, his swelling cheek, his lips, his jaw, down over his neck. Ollie gasps, shaking on his knees, feeling utterly debauched and objectified. Schneider then pushes his fingers into his mouth. Ollie tastes his cum. Opening his eyes, Ollie looks up at him pleadingly, belly twisting with overwhelming arousal, his face a mess.
Sliding his fingers out from his mouth, Schneider takes a second to tuck his dick back into his pyjama pants, before he gently grips his jaw in his hand again. He peeks down past his body to eye his stiff cock, standing tall from between his thighs. Schneider nudges his foot between his legs to feel along his hard dick with his toes. Ollie makes a choked noise, his eyelids wildly fluttering.
“You’re making a mess,” Schneider murmurs, “You’re dripping all over the floor.”
Shuddering, Ollie is unbelievably turned on. He can’t think straight. Even the unsatisfying touch of his toes to his shaft is making him desperate. He can’t wait anymore. He doesn’t want to.
“Please,” Ollie gasps, an utter wreck, “Please, please, let me come.”
“I will,” Schneider promises in a hushed whisper, continuing to cradle his strong jaw in a broad hand, gazing down at him with possessive lust in his blue eyes, “But first I want you to clean this up. Lick this floor clean and I’ll let you come.”
Ollie nods shakily, panting, his entire body trembling. Schneider smiles thinly, recognizing this lack of awareness and humiliation as desperation. He then steps around him, saying lowly, “Move back a bit.”
Obediently, Ollie shifts back on his knees, until Schneider cups a hand over his head, a silent command for him to still. Then he moves to kneel behind him. He curls his fingers around the loops of the belt wound around his forearms, and then with his other hand, he grabs his shoulder and begins to bend him forward. Ollie relies on him to help keep his balance.
Schneider watches silently with a thin smile on his face as Ollie leans forward to begin licking up the droplets of pre-cum from the floor, his pink tongue dragging flatly across the surface, leaving it shiny with only his saliva. Schneider lets him thoroughly lathe his tongue across the spot until he’s satisfied, and then he pulls him back up into a seated position. Ollie licks his lips and then whispers with a shy downcast of his eyes, “Please touch me.”
Smiling, Schneider strokes his hand up and down over Ollie’s muscular back. He rises again, leaving Ollie kneeling on the floor. He steps around to face him once more, and then crosses his arms, looking down at him with a slight amused expression as he says, “Alright. I’ll let you come. You can use my leg.”
Ollie looks up at him with shock.
“What? Your leg?” he sputters, baffled. Schneider’s amusement disappears.
“Is that not good enough for you? Or shall I bend you over the bed and spank you, without even letting you finish? Would you prefer that instead? Leave you in agony? You can have my leg.”
Ollie swallows hard. He blushes heavily, humiliated and apprehensive. He nods a little, regardless. He doesn’t want to anger him, that he knows. He’ll take what he can get. He shifts closer on his knees, head bowed out of utter embarrassment. He shuffles close to the other man, until he’s kneeling over his foot, his cheek pressed to his hip. He licks his lips, his face on fire. Schneider is warm. Ollie hesitates, blushing heavily, humiliated.
“Go on,” Schneider whispers.
Heat swirls in Ollie’s belly. He lets out a shuddering exhale and focuses on maintaining balance as he angles his hips to let his painfully hard cock slide up against the soft fabric of his pyjamas. It feels good, even just that. Ollie moans quietly under his breath. He wiggles closer, enough to pin his dick between his belly and Schneider’s leg. Now the haze of arousal and the need to get off is clouding his sense of judgement, his sense of shame. He begins rocking his hips, rubbing his leaking cock against his warm, sturdy leg. Ollie moans, pressing his face into Schneider’s hip and thigh to muffle his sounds.
The sound of his humping fills the room; the shifting of cloth, his panting, the creaking of the belt around his wrists. He ruts against him continuously, grunting into his thigh, breathing heavily with sweat dripping down his back. Schneider is completely still and silent, watching him. Only after a couple minutes of this, Ollie is on the brink. He’s shaking uncontrollably, his thrusting becoming sloppy and uncoordinated as he snaps his hips, grinding his throbbing dick into Schneider’s shin.
When he comes, it’s with a loud, gasping moan. His hands clench into fists behind his back, his entire body locked up, his cock spurting ropes of cum onto Schneider’s pyjamas and the floor. It doesn’t seem to end. The euphoria is utterly devastating. Ollie can’t breathe. He moans and grunts as he shakily shoves his hips into Schneider’s leg, wringing out every sliver of pleasure he can. He only slows to a stop when the haze of the orgasm fades, leaving him clear-minded and humiliated. He collapses back onto the floor, sitting with his legs curling haphazardly around Schneider’s. He can’t be on his knees anymore. They’re screaming.
He swallows thickly, the weight of what he’s done bearing down on him. He apprehensively pans his gaze up to meet Schneider’s. A pleased smile is on his face. He reaches out to cup his hand under Ollie’s jaw. He tips his head back. Those handsome blue eyes search his flushed face as Ollie sits there, panting, with his arms behind his back. Schneider leans over to kiss him in a soft purse of his lips. Ollie is too stunned to return it.
“Let me untie you,” Schneider whispers, and then kisses his cheek. Ollie melts at that. He nods a little. Schneider hooks his arm around Ollie’s bicep to help him up onto his feet. Ollie is unsteady and his legs are numb. He bears his weight into Schneider, without quite meaning to. Schneider chuckles and holds him against his side, turning them to face the bed. Ollie gratefully drops down onto it. Schneider takes a seat beside him; Ollie turns himself so his back is to him. Schneider immediately unbuckles the belt and unwinds it from around his arms, leaving behind reddened, rubbed skin. He strokes gingerly at his wrists and forearms with apologetic hands.
“One second, love,” Schneider murmurs, squeezing his fingers before rising from the bed. Ollie tosses the belt onto the floor and moves to lay down, tired. He doesn’t even know how late it is. He watches from the pillows as Schneider steps out of his pyjamas, giving Ollie a nice view of his ass. He tosses them into the laundry basket and grabs a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase. He steps into them. Ollie smiles slightly, enjoying this sight.
“I’ll be back,” Schneider says, glancing at him as he fixes his shirt, “I’m going to get you a washcloth.”
Ollie nods. He kind of needs that to wipe the smeared semen off his face. Schneider leaves the room quietly. Ollie sinks back into the bed and sighs. It only takes a minute. Schneider reenters the room, clicks the door shut behind himself, now brandishing a wet washcloth. He takes a seat beside Ollie. Ollie sits up and faces him. Schneider delicately cups his jaw in his hand and raises the cloth to begin gently wiping his face. It’s very soft, and warm. It feels nice. Ollie closes his eyes. Schneider gingerly cleans off his eyelashes and eyelids, his eyebrows, his forehead, his cheeks.
Once he deems Ollie clean, Schneider gets up to toss the washcloth in the hamper. He then turns back to the bed and climbs on to join him. They immediately move under the covers, with Schneider pulling him into a tight hug. He kisses him three times on the forehead and brow, stroking his big hand over his back. Ollie melts into his side.
“Do you want to sleep here with me tonight?” Schneider whispers.
Ollie rests his hand over Schneider’s belly through his black shirt, enjoying his warmth. He speaks thickly, lethargically.
“If you’re fine with that risk.”
“Well, we’ve shared a bed before.”
“With me naked?”
“…I can lend you some clothes.”
After rising once more to grab Ollie’s previously discarded briefs and hoodie, Schneider digs out a pair of trackpants from his suitcase and hands it all to the other man, who dresses rather lethargically, while Schneider gets situated on the bed once more. Then, with Ollie now dressed, they find themselves in a comfortable embrace under the thick quilt. Ollie likes this more. He’s nice and warm. He nuzzles into Schneider and deflates with a sigh. He’s exhausted.
“I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?” Schneider whispers, stroking his hand affectionately over Ollie’s back. Ollie hums sleepily.
“My cheek hurts and they will ask about it tomorrow. To answer your question: no. You didn’t.”
“Should I go get some ice?” Schneider asks, sounding very worried. He tenses up like he’s about to get up again.
“No,” Ollie grumbles, clinging to him, “I don’t care. I don’t want to move. Stay with me.”
Schneider relaxes back into the bed. He huffs.
“Well, alright, if you say so.”
Ollie makes a dismissive noise. He readjusts his (unharmed) cheek against Schneider’s chest and sighs again, getting situated for sleep. He likes this. This is very nice. He seldom gets to sleep with him like this. He usually has to abscond through a window, or slip out quietly to remain undetected. Schneider keeps rubbing at his back. It’s soothing. This is a dream. Ollie smiles to himself, tiredly.
Sunlight is peering through the ajar window, Schneider realizes, when he cracks his eyes open. He had heard the creak of footsteps and the slight, soft knocking of a knuckle against wood. His tired, barely-conscious brain doesn’t quite register what’s happening. Only when the door begins to gradually slide open with a creak does Schneider violently jolt and hurriedly grab the covers to throw them over the younger man who’s currently curled up beside him. Ollie makes a noise like a disturbed cat. Schneider presses a gentle hand over his head through the blanket, stilling him, just as whomever decided to rudely let themselves in peeks inside. Schneider shakily glances over to meet the emerald eyes of Richard—of course. Because who else would it be?
“Morning. What do you want for breakfast?” Richard pipes up, stepping in to rest his shoulder against the door frame with a cross of his arms.
Schneider stares at him, just absolutely disgusted.
“Are you serious?” he growls dangerously with a scowl darkening on his face, his voice still heavy from his sleep, “You came in here, waking me up, to ask me something so unbelievably unimportant, something that can easily be addressed later in time, when I am actually up and ready to eat?”
Richard blinks, surprised, and then straightens from the door frame with a frown.
“Damn. What crawled up your ass and died? Whatever. Dick.”
Richard turns and leaves, grabbing the handle of the door to sharply snap it shut again. Schneider lets out a breath and deflates against the pillows. He wipes his hand down over his face and then brushes his wild curls back with a rake of his fingers. He peels back the blankets to see Ollie looking at him with an arched brow and an amused smirk.
“Shut up,” Schneider huffs, “You know I have no patience after I’ve woken up.”
Ollie laughs quietly and shifts closer to draw an arm around Schneider’s midsection, before kissing him on the cheek.
“You are also very cute after you’ve woken up,” he whispers, his lips moving against his cheek. Schneider blushes. He turns his head just so he can kiss Ollie on the mouth, a light, affectionate peck which the other man returns.
“Shut up,” Schneider whispers again. Ollie laughs. Grinning, Schneider then kisses him again.