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Till tells Richard that he can hit him properly if he wants to, for the visual, for the art of it. It certainly wouldn't be the first time Till has shed blood for his craft, and if most definitely won't be the last if he has his way. Blood, sweat and tears are after all, the bare minimum requirements for anything Till does. 

Richard considers for a moment, weighing the fake knuckle duster in his hand. Fake, but not entirely without weight. It's absolutely still capable of causing damage if swung with enough force. A flash of concern clouds his eyes for a second or two, the sentimental part of him cracking through his work face. But then he nods, Till breathes out, Richard understands. He's never been capable of not throwing himself completely into any given task, Till thinks that he might love that the most about him. 

They've been painted with fake blood and dirt and grime. Richard was given a moustache and his hair has been ruffled and it takes Till's breath away. He looks in equal parts like Richard in the morning, soft and not yet put together, and like Richard in a post fuck haze, rumpled and entirely taken apart. The costume suits him, the filth suits him, the swagger of a bare knuckle fighter suits him so completely. Till can't help but stare, Richard catches his eye when nobody is looking and winks, bastard.

The fight scene itself is fairly straightforward and comes down to the simple direction that 'Richard gets to kick the fuck out of Till.' The others find this hilarious of course and Till endures their teasing as good-naturedly as he can manage. The fight choreographer has had them run through the motions more than a few times, until it looks natural. Till repeats his earlier offer that Richard can hit him properly to make it look real, to which the choreographer looks alarmed but Richard merely nods and confirms the same is true for Till. Though Till can't imagine ever hurting Richard on purpose, he knows the man is just as dedicated to this as he is and he can hardly say no now. 

The first time through, they both pull their punches, and it looks good on film but not good enough. They simultaneously demand to do it again without even discussing it first. The second time Richard really goes for it and catches Till off guard. He spits a mixture of real and fake blood and throws his hand back as hard as he dares. Richard's not ready for him and his reaction (and the blood) is a little distressing but it looks genuine and that's what matters. 

They scrap like they're boys again. Till curls his fingers into Richard's hair and yanks his head back, Richard sucker punches him right back, catching him on the cheek, making him stumble backwards. Till fires a slightly off target blow back, his head ringing. Richard dodges it easily and offers him a concerned glance that only lasts for half a second, broken by Till just barely regaining his composure and smacking a big palm wildly across the side of his head.

Richard looks at him with fiery eyes. Till barely has time to react before he's thrown against the wall so hard his breath is forced out of him in a wheezing huff. Richard pins him there, deceptively strong as he is. Till meets his gaze, and finds unfiltered arousal staring back at him. Richard is getting off on this, on kicking the shit out of him, it's the hottest thing Till thinks he's ever seen. Richard's mouth twitches into the briefest smile as he realises Till is right there with him, but he doesn't let it last. He has a job to do. 

Another punch to the jaw and a knee to his stomach, which Richard holds back on for which Till is silently thankful, and they're done. They don't speak for a moment, they just stare at each other, breathing, coming down. There's a slightly nervous laugh somewhere behind the camera as the choreographer says aloud that they almost stepped in to separate them. 

There's a snort from Paul who wishes good luck to anyone who tries to get in between Till and Richard. There's more slightly nervous laughter and a declaration that the shots are good and there's no further need for anymore bloodshed, thank you. 

They're told they can break for lunch and Till finds himself dragged away as soon as the crew have cleared the area. 

Paul's mocking laughter follows them as they go. "Looks like you owe me, Christoph, I told you they'd get off on it." 

~~~

Till's back hits the closed door of the dressing room as soon as it clicks shut. Richard surges into his personal space and kisses him harshly, licking the blood from his mouth. He presses the full length of his body against Till, rolling his hips just slightly so that Till can feel how wound up he is. He moves his mouth to Till's neck and bites viciously drawing a strangled mewl from his throat. His hot tongue then soothes the spot immediately which makes Till's knees wobble dangerously. 

"Fuck." He gasps, leaning his head back and letting Richard attack his neck with his teeth and his tongue. "Fuck, Rich." 

Richard laughs, low in his throat. "Soon, love." He says, full of promise and need, Till shudders involuntarily in response. His hands come up to Richard's hips, shoving their way under his shirt to find his warm skin. It seems to snap something in Richard who immediately steps back and rips his shirt off then returns to tear Till's open so he can get his own hands on Till's damp, heated skin. 

Till uses Richard's distraction to his advantage and pulls him closer so that he can kiss him again. He tastes bitter and like iron and something so recognisably Richard that Till feels a little light headed. He sinks his teeth into Richard's lower lip and tugs slightly before letting go so that he can have a moment to breathe. He isn't a young man anymore and sometimes it catches up with him. 

Richard appears to be just as affected, standing with his hands pressed against Till's chest and breathing along with him. It's a soft and gentle moment that soon melts into a tender, drawn out kiss that has them both desperate and trembling just a little. Richard's hand slowly creeps down Till's front to find the tender spot where he buried his knee. He presses his fingertips into the growing bruise, not too hard, but firm enough that Till aches.

"You enjoyed that." He grinds out, falling still as Richard's hands explore his injuries, both new and old, his fingernails scratching over scars that map stories across his skin. 

Richard grins. "So did you." He wedges his thigh between Till's legs and presses up against his rock hard cock. Till's eyes flutter closed and he tries his best not to make any undignified noises but he's not sure he succeeds. Judging by the heated tone  of Richard's voice as he speaks again, he's not sure it matters.

"Mein Gott." He breathes hotly into Till's mouth. "How do you still do this to me after all these years?" 

Till shakes his head, he can't answer that. He spends too much of his time in his own head as it is, wondering why and how Richard stays by his side nearly three decades down the line. It's mind-blowing when he really tries to think about it, and a little scary. 

Richard kisses him then, breaking him out of his thoughts. Open mouthed, lax and playful, all the while keeping his thigh pressed between Till's legs. Till can't take it anymore, with his youth went any patience he had for long drawn out teasing. He's riled up anyway from the fighting and he knows Richard is too, despite his casual outward demeanour. He has tells like a bad poker player; blown pupils, a pretty flush high on his cheekbones, his kisses becoming longer and deeper in intensity. 

"How do you want me?" Till murmurs, moving to nip biting kisses along the line of Richard's jaw, he pauses a moment and gently kisses the spot on his cheek where a bruise is beginning to bloom. He's still a little gross from the blood and the grime but Till pays no attention to it and continues trailing his mouth down towards Richard's neck. 

Richard squirms a little under his touch, ticklish in all the right places. "You're letting me choose?" He asks in a teasing voice.

Till pauses, looks back up at his deliciously filthy face. "You won the fight." He says, as though it's obvious.

Richard's hand creeps up and firm fingers grip Till's bruised jaw. "So my prize is you? However I want you?" His voice is now a shade above a whisper, his eyes hooded and dark. Till can barely think, he's so turned on, but he nods, feeling Richard's hold on him tighten. 

"Fuck me." Richard whispers his demand and seals it with a firm but brief kiss to Till's lips. Till smiles, he can't possibly refuse such a sweet request and says as much, enjoying the way Richard's blush darkens. He reaches behind him to fumble the lock on the door then slowly walks Richard backwards towards the couch along the back wall, it's small but it will do. 

Richard, for his part, refusing to remove his mouth from Till's, kissing and biting in equal measure. He shoves Till's open shirt from his shoulders so Till can shrug it off, then goes for the waistband of his trousers, fingers fumbling on the unfamiliar fastening. He manages it at the same time that the backs of his knees hit the couch cushions. He drops down with a grunt, lying back and pulling Till down with him. Till props himself up on an elbow just so that he can look at Richard for a second or two. 

"God, you're beautiful."

Richard laughs. "As much as I usually enjoy you singing my praises, we don't really have the time for it." 

Till rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine."

He kneels up so that he can get Richard's trousers and boxers down, shoving one of his legs off the couch so Till can settle in between them more easily. Richard presses a bottle into his hands, Till frowns up at him in response. He's not quite meeting Till's eyes.

"Never know when we might need it." He confesses quietly much to Till's amusement. "What?" He asks, seeing Till's poorly hidden smile. "You're getting something out of this too."

Till inclines his head, conceding the point. "Stop talking now." He tells him, kissing his cheek and slipping his hand between Richard's legs.

"You started it...oh." Richard groans as Till teases him lightly, and then slowly oh so slowly pushes a finger into him. Till leans down and nips at his bare stomach as he stretches him carefully. Richard jolts and smacks at his head, swearing under his breath. Till ducks out of the way and kisses his lower belly before mouthing at his cock as an apology. Richard throws his head back against the arm of the couch as Till wraps his free hand around his cock so he can properly take him into his mouth. After all these years, he knows exactly how to take Richard apart and still surprise him at the same time. 

A second finger joins the first and soon Richard is rocking down on his hand, Till is barely doing anything apart from lazily sucking him off and roving his eyes up the length of Richard's body. He's still so stunning, even dotted with drying stage make-up and flaking blood and just a few tell-tale signs of age that Till has come to truly appreciate in recent years. He stops staring and pushes his fingers deeper, finding his target easily because he knows this man so completely. The moan that Richard lets out is sweet and low in his ears and he pulls his mouth away from his cock, so that he can drape himself half over Richard and kiss him, swallowing his moans as he continues to finger him open. 

"Till." He gasps, pulling away so he can breathe. "Please."

That's all Till needs to hear. He returns to his earlier position, wedged between Richard's spread legs, and retrieves the bottle from where it had rolled onto the floor. He gets himself ready, stroking over his own cock a couple of times and winking at Richard who watches him impatiently. He shifts closer and when Richard lifts his hips, he grips his own cock and pushes carefully into the heat of his lover. He has to pause when Richard hisses through his teeth, perhaps they were a little too hurried he thinks, but Richard waves him on impatiently.

It's a little awkward. He has to plant a foot on the floor and hook his arms under Richard's quivering thighs in order to fit them both on the small couch and to give himself the leverage to move.

"It would be easier if you turned around." He grumbles when his knee on the couch protests at the pressure.

"I want to see you." Is all Richard says in response. He hooks a hand around the back of Till's neck and pulls him down, not to kiss him but to rest their foreheads together as Till rocks his hips forwards. Richard moans softly as Till rests there, buried inside him. He's an impatient man though and he soon begins to squirm. "Move." He begs.

Till plants a hand on the armrest of the couch behind Richard's head and moves his hips, fucking Richard in earnest. His thighs and knees scream at him, but he ignores it, he's only concerned with Richard and his pleasure. The way his eyes flutter closed and his mouth hangs open, gasping moans and pleas into the stifling heat of the room. Till hoists his hips higher, Richard helps by hooking his legs around Till's waist. It changes the angle and both of them groan and shudder in tandem.

Till moves again and Richard cries out, his fingernails scoring grooves into Till's bare shoulders. He drives into his lover, chasing those beautiful moans, determined to make him unravel first. They don't have time to draw this out, so Till curls his fist around Richard's neglected cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts. 

Richard's muscles quiver and clench around Till's cock, making the slide in and out more torturous. Till grunts and picks up the pace as best he can, slamming home with every roll of his hips. Richard is helpless beneath him, heels digging into the small of Till's back and his nails digging so viciously into his shoulders, Till's sure he's broken the skin by now. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters outside of the two of them. 

He lowers himself slightly so he can lick and bite at Richard's neck, at the spot where it tapers into his shoulder and where he's the most sensitive. He mutters filth and devotion into his skin until Richard is trembling, unravelling and whimpering beneath him. Till twists his wrist, once, twice and Richard bucks his hips and comes with a strangled cry of Till's name. Till lets him ride it out before chasing his own release, snapping his hips half a dozen times then tumbling over the edge buried to the hilt inside his lover. His face is buried in the crook of Richard's neck as his cock pulses and his heart pounds. Richard strokes his now wild hair and coos at him tiredly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek and jaw. Till rests there, enjoying the affection and the afterglow.

It becomes too much for Richard though, who begins to whine and squirm. Till obediently hauls himself back up onto his knees, his cock sliding out of Richard. He hesitates a moment before pressing his face between Richard's thighs and lapping up the mess, batting away Richard's hands as they try to pull him away.

Richard laughs breathlessly as he gives in. "Till, you're a fucking menace." 

Till lifts his head and grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He raises an eyebrow and goes in to clean up Richard's belly as well which has him giggling and trying to twitch away. 

"Stop it!" He begs, pushing ineffectually at Till's hands where they clutch at his hips. Till does relent though and crawls up Richard's spent body seeking a kiss which his lover is only too happy to return. It's gentle and a little uncoordinated but it's perfect all the same. 

Till echoes Richard's earlier gesture and presses his forehead to Richard's, their noses bumping together. The other man smiles, trying to hold his gaze although Till struggles with the intensity. 

"You know I love you." Richard says quietly, it's a statement, not a question but Till nods anyway, because he does though sometimes his self esteem demons make him question why. "Don't ask me to hit you again." He continues, trailing his fingertips over Till's bruised jaw and Till swallows a little guiltily, his eyes drifting to Richard's cheek.

"Exactly." Richard says, able to read exactly what Till is thinking. He taps Till's nose affectionately. "Never again, now get off me." 

Till rolls his eyes. "Yes, sir." He stands up on creaky knees and bows mockingly, allowing Richard the space to get to his feet.

"Hmm, I like the sound of that." Richard chuckles, pecking Till on the lips as he goes past him to begin collecting his clothes. He's walking a little wobbly which makes Till smile. He gathers his clothes too and they redress in companionable silence.  

Re-entering the studio space is a bit of a nightmare however, Till feels like a teenager doing the walk of shame again. None of the crew seem to notice anything amiss however, or if they do they very politely don't say anything. The same cannot be said for the rest of the band who wolf whistle and raise their eyebrows childishly. Richard escapes by claiming he needs a cigarette, leaving Till to the wolves, for which there will be vengeance later.

"Almost exactly on time." Paul informs him gleefully, showing him the time on his phone screen. "Well done." 

Till shoves him playfully on the shoulder as he sits in the chair next to him. He steals Paul's coffee as a small act of revenge.

"What have we got to do this afternoon?" He asks.

Christoph immediately turns a funny colour. "I think it's my turn to beat you up, please don't get any ideas." 

There's a beat of silence before Till and Paul fall over each other cackling, even Olli and Flake chuckle to themselves at Christoph's distress. 

"Fucking hell, don't let Richard hear you." Paul snickers when he's calmed down, Till shakes his head and busies himself in his stolen coffee.

"Don't let Richard hear what?" The man himself asks, returning from his smoke break. Till notes that he's got his walking under control which is a small blessing, at least there won't be any teasing over that. 

"Christoph gets to throw Till to the floor and kick the shit out of him this afternoon." Paul says innocently, sitting back in his chair. Till watches Richard's expression darken, though he knows there's no menace, Christoph gulps and suddenly remembers something important he has to do in the make-up room. Richard winks at the rest of them and follows Christoph, demanding to know his intentions. It only sets Till and Paul off again, giggling like schoolboys until they're called back to set.