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Caught Between Your Teeth

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For the past ten years since they first formed Rammstein, Paul had a closely-guarded secret that he never disclosed to any of the other members. He had no reason to, not when Richard was all too happy to get all the attention when the time of the month rolled around. It was one area he was willing to give up the spotlight for, having zero desire to go head to head with the lead guitarist. 

 

 

He didn’t need their pity, their help, not when he had the use of suppressants to get through the months and channel the energy towards the tours. He stifled his instinct to nest and seek out a mate by diverting all of that into the shows and rehearsals. It worked for Feeling B and it was doing just fine now. 

 

 

What he didn’t take into account was the vocalist’s sharp nose and curious mind. 

 

 

He wasn’t the type to trust easily; he grew up having to use all the tricks up his sleeves to get by and using others to his advantage, what stopped anyone else from doing the same to him? While Rammstein was the closest to a pack, to a family, he still couldn’t break out of decades-long habit. Till brought up all the warning flags he was forced to learn as a kit, it was enough of a battle trying to take the pills without the vocalist finding out about his secret. He adjusted his sleeping habits a few months ago to administer the suppressants in the middle of the night when everyone else in the band was asleep. 

 

 

 It went without a hitch and he was able to bypass Till nosing around.

 

 

At least until one night in the middle of their Ahoi tour when Paul dragged himself back to the hotel they were all staying after a wildly successful show in Basel. He was exhausted and sore, annoyingly familiar pangs of cramps working their way up his stomach. He should’ve taken the stupid pills last night, but he was having too much fun pestering Schneider. The idiot alpha was being all doe-eye over a pair of ugly ass omega fans, and it was too easy to get under the drummer’s skin. 

 

 

“Verdammte Scheiße,” Paul groaned, wrapping an arm around his stomach to ward off the cramps as he shakily slid his room key into the slot only to realize that the door was already unlocked, the blinking red circle now a solid green. He stared, hugging himself more tightly as he debated what he should do. This was reckless, he should get Schneider or someone else to go in with him. He shook his head, sneering at himself. He wasn’t some helpless patsy that needed help over every little thing. He survived on his own for years scraping by, some robber was nothing he couldn’t handle. He pushed open the door all the way, sucking in a deep breath and stepping in. 

 

 

His panic turned into confusion once the recognizable scent of seagrass and musk hit his nose. “Till?” he rasped, flicking the lights in his hotel room on. He froze, muscles stiffening and the heat cramps forgotten once he saw Till sitting on his bed swirling an orange bottle around in one large hand. “Hey, hey hey! Was zum Teufel?” he smirked, anger getting through the shock as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Give a guy a warning next time if you’re gonna break into his room, ja?” he set his instrument bag down by the door and closed it, going stiff once he realized exactly what that orange bottle was. “And don’t go snooping in my stuff, neugieriger opa,”  he retorted, storming over and reaching for his medicine only for Till to yank it away. “Isn’t it too late for pranks, don’t you have Flake or Reesh to bother?” he grumbled, not in the mood to entertain the big dummy. 

 

 

Till hummed a soft note, glancing at Paul and noting the slightly red cheeks as the guitarist glared at him, holding the bottle out of the smaller man’s arm reach. “You’re cranky tonight, Mausbär,” he spoke up, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He brought the medicine back, using his boots to hold Paul off as he read the label. “Magic? Why, Landers, it’s endearing how you haven’t given up this boyish nature,” he joked, opening it and pouring the pills into his open palm. “Haven’t we known each other long enough for there to be no secrets between us? How much did I tell you about my life, hm? You couldn’t tell me about this little thing?” he drawled, getting off the bed and standing up until his shadow dwarfed Paul. “Schade, you could’ve told me you were an omega,” he murmured, voice gentle and belied of the lust as he cornered the other German until Paul was trapped.



Paul’s smile was frozen on his face, a knee-jerk reaction to the situation that was wildly spiraling out of his control. While he wasn’t a complete idiot and knew that Till was likely going to find out about his status, he wasn’t expecting it to be this soon, certainly not in the middle of an important tour. “Wasn’t any of your business, I don’t ask you about your ruts, nein?” he quipped flippantly, left hand twitching as he watched Till crushed the pills up into dust. “What’s the big idea, opa? Don’t go destroying shit that don’t belong to you!” he snapped, scowling at Till and not understanding why the vocalist was acting so damn weird with him. He jerked back when Till reached out and rested the back of his palm against his forehead, belatedly realizing he was flushed. ‘Scheiße!’ he cursed inwardly, his heat would kick in any minute now that he didn’t have the suppressants. 

 

 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Till whispered gently, crowding in on Paul and resting his hands on either side of the head. His nostrils flared, taking in the delicious aroma of cinnamon and nectar. It was always delectable, but now it was sickeningly sweet. Enough to make his head spin and his vision to cloud at the edges. “Why are you fighting this, Mausbär? I’ve seen the way you looked at me,” he purred, leaning in and pecking the cheek, feeling Paul shudder. His tongue flickered out, tasting the soft skin and humming. He was fighting his own instincts, not wanting to hurt the omega, but it was near impossible when the scent was so strong and Paul wasn’t clawing his face off like he expected. 

 

 

Paul swallowed reflexively, holding himself rigid as he felt the wet tongue brushed against his cheek, disgust flooding through him as he felt slick trickling down and soaking his briefs. He hated his fucking biology, hated everything that he was forced to deal with simply because he drew the wrong deck in genes. He opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but the only thing that came out was a gargled moan when Till’s knee slid between his legs and pushed up. “Lindemann…” he wheezed, grasping the vocalist’s arms and squeezing as their bodies became flushed together. The alpha’s own scent was overwhelming, hissing as the urge to sink down to his knees and nuzzle the bulging erection he could feel digging against his stomach threaten to win over his pride. “Geh raus,” he all but beg. 

 

 

“No need to be so crass, mein Paulchen,” Till soothed, leaving a trail of kisses down the neck and tracing the shell of the ear with his tongue before biting down, ignoring the gauge chipping at his teeth. It took every fiber in his being to ignore the clean skin on the shoulder near the collarbone to claim Paul with a bonding mark. He wasn’t that far gone, but the dizzying aroma of the heat wasn’t helping him any. “It’s not too late to have some fun, ja? Isn’t heat painful? Don’t you think I can make it all better?” he whispered, running his hands down the lithe sides until he was cupping the narrow hips. He grinned as Paul’s legs spread without hesitation, gaining confidence now that the other band member wasn’t rejecting him. 

 

 

Paul bit his bottom lip, the small canines sinking in until they broke the skin. He didn’t get why Till was so eager to use him, he was nothing like Richard. The other omega had huge canines, big pecs with perky nipples, and a plump ass. He was straight as an ironing board while his teeth were too small to ward even another omega off. Maybe the smell of a heat was too enticing, that had to be it. There was nothing about him that would attract a potential mate. “The hell you talking about, alter mann? I don’t need you,” he barked out, looking up at Till and rolling his eyes at the entranced stare. “I’m tired and it’s late, geh raus,” he moved to shove Till off only for the taller man to spin him around and pinned him back against the wall face first. He grunted, the cold tile almost soothing against his heated cheek, but then he felt his belt clumsily taken off and ripped out of his pants’ loops. “Hey!” 



 

“Shhh, it’ll be okay, let me help you, Mausbär,” Till breathed into the ear, kissing the neck and grazing his teeth over it as he tugged the pants down until they pooled around the omega’s ankles. The slick was filling the room, his mouth starting to salivate. He needed a taste or he was going to lose what little remained of his mind. He slid his palms back up, sliding underneath the sweat-soaked shirt and caressing the chest, sliding the nipples between his fingers and squeezing lightly. The gasp spilling out of Paul was music to his ears and he groaned appreciatively. “Mein gott, you’re simply divine,” he praised, going back down and cupping the crotch, feeling the hips rut against his hand. He didn’t understand why Paul never went to him for relief, it had to be so unbearable. He squeezed the small cock lightly, going underneath until he found the other entrance, slick coating his fingers before he slid two in. 

 

 

Paul arched against Till, a quivering whine escaping past his clenched teeth. It was going too fast, the feeling of another man’s digits inside him almost foreign. He wasn’t a virgin, not completely. He had plenty of one night stands, but never during his heat. Everything was amplified, each touch sending a bolt of electricity through him and seizing his muscles until he could barely stand on his own feet, slumping against Till and grinding his hips over the hand, pushing the fingers deeper inside him. “F-Fuck…” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ride out the sensation. He could feel the thick outline of Till’s cock pressing against his ass, panting and writhing restlessly. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to give in just this once, he did trust Till after all. It was why he joined Rammstein so easily. 

 

 

Till let out an approving growl, taking his fingers out and licking them experimentally. Paul tasted just as addicting as he smelled, and it only served to make him impossibly harder. He turned the omega back around, lifting him completely off the ground and earning a startled yelp as he hoisted Paul until the legs were over his shoulders, keeping the back against the wall so that he was face-to-face with the glistening wet crotch.

 

 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there big guy,” Paul laughed, nervousness sneaking through the lust haze clouding his own head. He never went far like this before. An embarrassingly high pitched squeal parted out of him when his only response was Till’s tongue rimming his outer lips. His fingers tangled in the dark hair, bending over Till’s head and choking on curses. It felt so fucking good that it almost scared him. He didn’t know how much time Till spent eating him out, wondering if this was turning into another cannibal video for a different song that the vocalist was working on and he was just the subject of some sick prank, but then Till paused and he was carried over to the bed, being lifted off and slammed down not unlike a wrestling move. “Fucking hell, I’m not paying for the damages. The management chewed us out last tour, remember? Flake is gonna rip you a new one,” he chattered, laughing anxiously and trying to roll around so that he could sit up. “What you and Richard do is all on your wallet, ja? I don’t need to be grounded like a kid by the bosses just--”he was cut off with a light slap. He stiffened, cupping his cheek and giving Till a blank look. “Entschuldigen Sie? Did you just fucking smack me?” He sputtered, fuming and getting ready to tackle Till when he was pinned down again, cursing more in german as he was dragged up to the headboard, his wrists being tied with his own fucking belt to the frame. “I’m not some street hure for you, opa! Leggo of me or I’m beating your ass,” he spat, kicking his legs out. 



 

“Who cares about management? I’ll deal with them,” Till muttered, shaking his head and covering Paul’s mouth as he straddled the kicking legs, leaving the omega rendered defenseless. He had assumed the guitarist would be all weak-kneed and wanting like Richard was during his mate’s heat, but he forgot just how high energy and stubborn the smaller man was. “Stop talking so much, liebe, you’ll feel better, trust me,” he soothed the frazzled omega, running his other fingers through the messy hair and pecking the temple. Paul was so different from Richard physically, his own mate soft and plush to the touch while Landers was bristling and cold as ice. “Don’t you trust me?” he chirped, nudging against the face before sitting up, letting go of the mouth once it looked like Paul wasn’t going to be screaming his head off.

 

 

“I guess…” Paul muttered, face bright red with humiliation. This wasn’t his typical position, he was used to being in charge and taking control. Yet he would be lying if he said this was something he hated. It was new, exciting, and he was curious to see where this would go. He’d always been attracted to Till over the years, it was hard not to be with how the other man walked around and took over a room. He gulped, watching Till’s jeans and boxers come off, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched the leaking cock swell up, tiny spines coming out once the foreskin moved down. “Okay, maybe not that much,” laughter bubbled out of him, trying to squeeze his legs shut. “Lindemann, slow down,” he barked out when the vocalist didn’t listen to him, instead nestling between his shaking thighs and pulling his hips closer. He barely had any prep and Till wasn’t exactly small by any stretch of imagination.



 

“It’s okay, it’ll feel good in a moment,” Till rasped, stroking himself and rubbing the head against the entrance. He didn’t need lube, not with how much slick was pouring out of Landers. He pushed in, sighing contently and rubbing his thumb over the omega’s cock, knowing the stimulation would help Paul relax. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, draping himself over his bandmate and kissing the neck where a vein was throbbing. “Relax, Paulchen, you wanted this,” he hummed, starting to move his hips and drawing out a reedy keening noise from the smaller German. 

 

 

Paul arched off the bed, wrapping his legs around Till’s waist and the belt chafing his wrists as he tried to get used to the full feeling. He was so stretched, he could feel each tiny movement of the cock sliding in and out of him, and it was so awful but it felt so wonderful at the same time. He kept his eyes shut, opening them only made him see stars. “N-Not so fast,” he whispered, teeth chattering as Till thrusted into him. The nails were digging into his hips hard enough to leave bruises behind and the idea of an alpha’s mark on his body was dizzying. He worked so hard for years to keep away from this very situation yet here he was eagerly spreading his legs and spearing himself on the barbed cock. Each time Till pulled out of him, he could feel the spines tearing pieces of tissue with it, yet the pleasure overrode the pain and he couldn’t help but moan. “If you’re not going to fuck me, I’ll kill you,” he gasped out, biting on Till’s lip when the older man tried to kiss him.

 

 

Till chuckled lowly, backing up from the snarls as he kept lightly thrusting into the omega, slowly stretching the pussy out. “So große Worte für einen süßen kleinen Züchter,” he teased playfully, pulling out and slamming back in, continuing the same rhythm until Landers was squirming underneath him. He sped up without warning, not bothering to check if Paul was ready since he was used to doing this with Richard, the two of them communicating without words. He groaned, the way the entrance clenched down on him nearly making him cum as he pounded into the smaller body, squeezing the hips and biting on a nipple.



 

Paul nearly screamed, not expecting the sudden change in pace. He could hear the ripping sounds as the cock moved in and out of him, trembling and trying to throw Till off of him, but without his hands, all he succeeded was twisting awkwardly under the heavier body. “Fick! Till, slo--” his words got muffled as a sweaty palm covered his mouth. He bit on the fingers, but the other man didn’t even register his teeth, continuing the agonizing thrusts until he felt raw. His cock remained flushed against his stomach, his brows furrowing. Why was he still hard? Why did it feel good? He didn’t understand his own fucking body anymore, his hips moving on their own accord as he met Till’s thrusts. Maybe he wanted this? He lost track of his thoughts as a particularly rough push whitened out his vision after the cock stabbed a sensitive side of his entrance rather than going inward. 

 

 

Till could feel his knot starting to swell up, knowing he didn’t have much time. He lifted himself off of Landers, wrapping his fingers lightly around the throat and choking as he kept fucking the omega, his movements rapidly turning erratic as he chased after his orgasm. “Fick ja!” he cried out, barely sliding out in time and jerking his cock before cumming all over the heaving stomach. He sat back on his haunches, panting and watching Paul’s hips make aborted motions, eyes landing on the stiff member. “Tut mir leid, you still need release,” he breathed, bending down and grasping the cock as he kissed the head and slowly took the guitarist in.

 

 

“N-Not now…” Paul whined, not even caring about his own aching dick. Everything was on fire, feeling blood slowly trickle out of the entrance and the own warmth of Till’s mouth sending pinpricks of pain up his veins. He hid his face in the crease of his elbows, gasping and thrusting as Till continued to suck him off until he reluctantly came, jolting as the alpha milked him dry. “Genug,” his words were barely audible, his energy thoroughly spent. Tears stung behind his closed eyelids and he growled, kicking Till violently off the bed and bringing his knees up. 

 

 

Till stared at the ceiling, sitting up and rubbing his chest where the foot slammed against it. “I just wanted to help, Paulchen, your cock was sore, wasn’t it?” he complained, getting up and tilting his head once he saw that the younger musician wasn’t looking at him. “Are you mad?” he couldn’t stop a pout from forming across his face, wondering if he hurt Paul’s feelings. “Don’t be mad at me, bitte, I was trying to help you. Meine Reesh’s heats always hurt him, I thought the same might be for you,” he played with his fingers, looking down and scuffing his socks against the carpet. He got dressed while the silence grew in the room, wishing Paul would at least talk to him. Maybe the omega was still angry about the pills? “You don’t need to worry about the suppressants anymore, Richard doesn’t take them, ja? You can just come to me next time your heat comes on,” he spoke up, sighing when he didn’t get a response. “I’ll have him talk to you, just sit tight,” he shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

 

 

Paul didn’t let out a breath until he heard the door closing, moving his face away from his arm and sucking in air between his teeth. He wasn’t going to cry. He went through worse, hadn’t he? This was nothing. He tried to sit up, cursing as he realized Till didn’t untie the belt off of him. He was going to kick that bastard’s ass. “Fucking stupid piece of shit,” he swore, wrestling with the blasted accessory. 

 

 

The door swung open.

 

 

He froze, panic icing his veins up and leaving him paralyzed as his eyes darted to the entryway, keeping his thighs shut together. His heat would last for a few more days, and he had no pills at all. Of course Lindemann didn’t have the forethought to lock his door. 

 

 

“Paul?” Richard called out softly, making sure to lock the door completely so they didn’t have any interruption, having forced Till to give him the room key card after his mate tearfully explained what happened, at least the best the alpha could through the blubbering. He grumbled, deciding he could kick the vocalist’s bum later, but his friend came first. He walked to the bedroom, his heart sinking as he saw the petrified look on Paul’s face. He’d known the guitarist for a long time, and he never saw such an expression on his best friend before now. “Paul, it’s just me, Richard,” he smiled, knowing if he showed anything akin to pity, Paul would beat him up. He carefully walked over to the bed, keeping a healthy distance and seeing the abused belt. “Oh, um Himmels willen,” he cursed, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to leave and pummel Lindemann. He untied the belt, watching Paul rip away from him and fell off the bed in his haste to get away. “Calm down, Landers, you’re just going to hurt yourself, Vollidiot,” he scolded, covering his mouth. He was here to help his packmate, not add insult to the injury. 

 

 

“Oh go fuck off and dive off a cliff, Krupse,” Paul snapped, rubbing his sore wrists and cupping himself to feel blood and slick mixing together. He grimaced, hobbling back up to his feet and swatting uselessly at Richard who caught him by his hips as he nearly lost his balance. “Fotzen, all of you,” he grumbled, being set down on the bed again while Richard sat next to him, a thumb gently caressing a spot behind his ear. 

 

 

“Shut up, if you keep yapping, you’ll kill off the rest of your brain cells from the lack of oxygen,” Richard snipped back, looking over Paul’s body critically. There were bruises and some bite marks, but nothing that required a trip to the hospital which was just as well. Paul could be just as stubborn as Till when it came to wounds. “Is this your first….active heat?” he asked, deciding to broach the subject and surprised when his friend gave him a nod, having expected to fight the older man into answering him. “When were you gonna tell me you were an omega too, dick face?” he joked, elbowing Paul lightly.

 

 

“Uh, never? You like the attention too much and we fight on set enough as it is. Last thing I need is a bunch of stinky perverts over us,” Paul scoffed, hugging himself and resting his elbows on his knees as he bent over slightly. Richard’s fingers lightly ran up and down his neck and he relaxed, sighing heavily. Part of him wanted to ask the lead guitarist to stay the night, but he bit the inside of his cheek before any words could sneak out. He wasn’t weak. He had been through worse, and he’ll get through this too. 



 

“Perverts? Like you aren’t one, Landers. You think I haven’t noticed the way you eye my ass?” Richard laughed, leaning over and nuzzling against Paul’s face. He snorted in fond exasperation when Paul made a grand show of sticking a finger in his mouth and retching loudly. “Deny it all you want. Take a shower, I’m staying the night and I don’t want to smell your slick,” he continued, standing up and going to the bathroom to get the tub ready.

 

 

“Why doesn’t anyone ask me what I want, huh? I don’t want your fetter arsch hogging my bed!” Paul exclaimed, turning around and glaring at Richard’s back. He grumbled, not wanting to admit himself how relieved he felt having the other omega with him for the night. “Now my whole room is gonna smell like cheap cologne and dye,” he complained, following the other bandmate into the bathroom. Once he was cleaned up (and no, he did not trill like a kitten while Richard washed his hair) and changed into clean clothes, he helped Richard switch out the bed sheets. No matter what his friend said, he did not jump onto the mattress and he certainly did not snuggle right up against the black-haired German. It sure as hell wasn’t his fault that their legs got tangled together or that perky chest made for a comfortable pillow.

 

 

He didn’t need someone to sleep with him, he didn’t need anyone.

 

 

But if it had to be somebody, he was glad it was Richard.

 

 

“Gute nacht, hure,” he yawned, hugging Richard tightly and burrowing his cheek further against pec while an arm draped over his side and kept him close, his eyes growing heavy and he heard a soft huff of laughter.

 

 

“Gute nacht, meine fuchs,” Richard said softly, rubbing the back and feeling Landers slowly fall asleep. He knew the man well, well enough to know Landers was masking the pain and hurt. He didn’t know exactly what happened here earlier, but his mate’s guilty face and Paul lashing out painted a not-so-pretty picture. He exhaled quietly, carefully repositioning himself into a more comfortable spot without disturbing the other omega. He had a lot to work with, but that could wait for tomorrow. He glanced out of the window, the snowflakes falling outside a peaceful contradiction to his racing thoughts. 

 

 

“Gute nacht…” he repeated, yawning and closing his eyes as his breaths matched Paul’s.