Inglourious Basterds RP Fic
Title: An Inglourious Night At Cannes
Characters: The one OT3 to rule them all (AKA Christoph Waltz/Mélanie Laurent/Eli Roth)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1505
Warnings: There is smut, but nowhere near as much as there was meant to be. There is also some drunkeness and light bondage. Oh, and a threesome.
Summary: How a tie was lost, and then found again.
Disclaimer: Waltz, Laurent and Roth all belong to themselves, and as far as I know, they have never done what is suggested in this fic. Although the world would be a better place if they did.
Notes: So, I did it. I committed RPF. I've already asked myself this several times, but it bears another repeat: WHAT THE HELL HAS INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS DONE TO MY BRAIN???
An Inglourious Night At Cannes
Lights blur in the corner of Eli’s eyes. Cameras flashing, party lights twinkling. The music moves around him, but he barely notices it go past. He’s not drunk, no matter what the other‘s are saying, no matter how many things pop out of nowhere just so he can walk into them. He just needs the room to stop spinning for a bit. Who the hell put all of those things in such stupid places, anyway?
A flash of light, and he sees them. Standing next to each other, a glass of red wine in her hand, a tipsy smile on her face. His hand barely touching the small of her back, so slightly that he knew he would be the only one who noticed. Her leaning back against him, eyes searching the room before looking up at Christoph’s face and saying something. Him smirking in reply. He would be the only one watching them, noticing how they always touch each other slightly more than they do anyone else.
Mélanie may let him lay his hands on her waist, pull her body towards his as he kisses her cheek, his lips lingering on her skin for slightly longer than necessary. Christoph may grasp his tie in his hands, pulling him closer, hamming it up for the cameras. Loosening it so much that it completely unravelled later on. Hell of he knows where it is now.
But those brief moments of flirtation are all for show. As soon as the paparazzi move on, they always gravitate towards each other, like moths to a flame. There is no one else when the camera’s aren’t around, just them in their private little universe that no one else can see. Even now, her hand is grasping his, pulling him towards the exit. He puts down his drink, and follows.
He didn’t know why he was following them. There was absolutely no reason, not even a drunken one. Not that he was drunk, mind you. All he knew was that they were disappearing into oblivion, and he couldn’t let them escape. He’s already done that too many times.
The door gives way as he doesn’t trip against it, and he stumbles out into the dark. He catches himself before he falls, and, straightening up, surveys the dimly lit hallway. He hears them before he sees anything, a muffled, drunken giggle, followed by an amused shushing noise. He follows the sound of those voices, feet muffled in the thick carpet as he approaches the corner.
“Fucking shit.” Well, that was less stealth than he had hoped for. Damn, fucking shoelaces. He doesn’t even remember them coming undone. Luckily the wall was there to stop him from falling on his face. He looks up, watching as both of them turn to stare, the look of guilty shock on her face giving way to a smirk as she sees who it is.
“Are you lost, Eli?”
“No, I was, er…” He pauses, trying to sort through the debris of his mind for a valid excuse. “I was looking for my tie.” Shit. Her smirk widens, and she turns to look at Christoph. The grin on his face as he pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to her makes all of his blood rush straight down. She approaches him, a long, thin, black stretch of fabric hanging from a finger. The red of her nail polish just visible at its edge.
“What, this tie?” Eli moves to grab it, but she moves her finger out of his reach. She tuts at him. “If you want your tie back, you’re going to have to earn it.” The teasing, flirtatious tone of her voice, combined with the sound of her accent, was making him harder than a fucking rock. See, he definitely wasn’t drunk.
He watches as Christoph walk up behind her, watched his hands wrap around her waist, puling her gently back against his body. Watches his head duck down, grabbing her earlobe between his lips. Eli knows that he’s staring, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He watches, an ardent hunger burning away inside as he watches his mouth, her smile. The way her eyes close, crinkling around the edges. The way his teeth are just visible as they bite down softly.
He watched until Christoph pulled away and turned his head to look straight at Eli, his mouth twisting into a knowing grin. “Don’t tease him, Mélanie.”
“Who is teasing?” She continues to speak, but Eli’s mind wanders. It becomes lost in the intoxicating sound of her accent, the way Christoph’s fingers caressed the fabric of her dress. He eventually focuses on his tie, or, more, specifically, the little sliver of red poking out from beneath. He focuses on the red until it is all he sees, and, following a sudden, inexplicable impulse, he reached his head forward, captured that sliver of red between his lips, and kissed the tip of her finger. He must’ve look like a complete tool but, judging by the sudden intake of breath, the recipient didn’t seem to mind. Her smile twisted into something more evil, and she lowered her voice as she spoke. “Good boy.”
***
The world becomes blurred. Hallways give way to large hotel rooms, harsh brightness to mood lighting. Clothes are soon discarded, and for the first time that night (that morning? It was getting difficult to keep track.) Eli was finally at the sort of party he really enjoyed. His wrists slipped in the tie, his tie, that bound his hands to the bed frame. Sure, he may want to touch, may want to feel those breasts in his hands, twist those nipples with his fingers, scrape his nails over those moles, but he’s pretty happy with things the way they were.
So he lies back as she splays her fingers across his abdomen, digging her nails in slightly as his cock pushes into her cunt, meeting her thrust for thrust. Watches as Christoph fucks her from both sides, two fingers rubbing at her clit as he drives into her from behind. He can feel the head of Christoph’s cock through her body, almost brushing against his own cock with each thrust. He can feel Christoph’s other hand cupping his balls, squeezing when Mélanie squeezes around him.
Mélanie’s fingers move up his torso, agonisingly slow. One stops over his nipple, grasping the nub between two fingers and twisting hard. He makes a strangled yelp that is best forgotten by everyone involved, as her free hand continues to make it’s path upwards, until it reaches Eli’s mouth. He takes the very same finger that his tie had been hanging from and sucks it into his mouth, hollowing his tongue around it as he sucked it in further. Her head arches back, and Christoph’s mouth attacks the long stretch of her neck.
She tightens around Eli’s cock, screaming out unknown French words into the near dark as she comes. Her body slowly relaxes, shuddering through the aftershocks until she is almost spent. Christoph’s hand moves from her cunt to her breast, half cupping it and half keeping her in position as he drives into her. Eli can feel him through her, moving harder and faster. As he comes, he squeeze Eli’s balls hard, preventing him from coming at the same time.
He can feel Christoph’s come dribble from Mélanie’s ass, feel it drip on to his own. Mélanie turns her head back and kisses him, before lifting her body from both of their cocks and moving to Eli’s side, her finger still lingering in his mouth. He looks up at Christoph, notices the salacious grin on his face as he moves down the bed, bends over, and takes Eli’s cock in his mouth. Once more, he can’t help but buck up into tight, moist heat, and as soon as Christoph’s hand releases his balls, he is coming straight into Christoph’s mouth.
Christoph waits until he’s spent, and then, on all fours, crawls up his body. He lifts his head and gives Mélanie a brief, closed-mouth kiss, before moving his head back and capturing Eli’s mouth with his own. Eli can taste himself, taste Christoph, hell, probably Mélanie as well, as the kiss deepens, both too tired to battle for dominance, but both unwilling to stop. He feels a mouth on his neck, cracks an eye open to see Mélanie lazily kiss a path up his jaw bone and across his face, before planting a small kiss on the corner of both his and Christoph’s mouth before sleepily muttering something in French and returning to her previous position, laying on his left side.
Christoph eventually stops the kiss, biting on his lower lip before lifting himself up and moving to Mélanie’s other side. He watches as Christoph settles in, looking at the woman next to him with a small smile on her face before shutting his eyes.
It’s only after both of them are asleep that Eli realises his hands are still tied up.
Characters: The one OT3 to rule them all (AKA Christoph Waltz/Mélanie Laurent/Eli Roth)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1505
Warnings: There is smut, but nowhere near as much as there was meant to be. There is also some drunkeness and light bondage. Oh, and a threesome.
Summary: How a tie was lost, and then found again.
Disclaimer: Waltz, Laurent and Roth all belong to themselves, and as far as I know, they have never done what is suggested in this fic. Although the world would be a better place if they did.
Notes: So, I did it. I committed RPF. I've already asked myself this several times, but it bears another repeat: WHAT THE HELL HAS INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS DONE TO MY BRAIN???
An Inglourious Night At Cannes
Lights blur in the corner of Eli’s eyes. Cameras flashing, party lights twinkling. The music moves around him, but he barely notices it go past. He’s not drunk, no matter what the other‘s are saying, no matter how many things pop out of nowhere just so he can walk into them. He just needs the room to stop spinning for a bit. Who the hell put all of those things in such stupid places, anyway?
A flash of light, and he sees them. Standing next to each other, a glass of red wine in her hand, a tipsy smile on her face. His hand barely touching the small of her back, so slightly that he knew he would be the only one who noticed. Her leaning back against him, eyes searching the room before looking up at Christoph’s face and saying something. Him smirking in reply. He would be the only one watching them, noticing how they always touch each other slightly more than they do anyone else.
Mélanie may let him lay his hands on her waist, pull her body towards his as he kisses her cheek, his lips lingering on her skin for slightly longer than necessary. Christoph may grasp his tie in his hands, pulling him closer, hamming it up for the cameras. Loosening it so much that it completely unravelled later on. Hell of he knows where it is now.
But those brief moments of flirtation are all for show. As soon as the paparazzi move on, they always gravitate towards each other, like moths to a flame. There is no one else when the camera’s aren’t around, just them in their private little universe that no one else can see. Even now, her hand is grasping his, pulling him towards the exit. He puts down his drink, and follows.
He didn’t know why he was following them. There was absolutely no reason, not even a drunken one. Not that he was drunk, mind you. All he knew was that they were disappearing into oblivion, and he couldn’t let them escape. He’s already done that too many times.
The door gives way as he doesn’t trip against it, and he stumbles out into the dark. He catches himself before he falls, and, straightening up, surveys the dimly lit hallway. He hears them before he sees anything, a muffled, drunken giggle, followed by an amused shushing noise. He follows the sound of those voices, feet muffled in the thick carpet as he approaches the corner.
“Fucking shit.” Well, that was less stealth than he had hoped for. Damn, fucking shoelaces. He doesn’t even remember them coming undone. Luckily the wall was there to stop him from falling on his face. He looks up, watching as both of them turn to stare, the look of guilty shock on her face giving way to a smirk as she sees who it is.
“Are you lost, Eli?”
“No, I was, er…” He pauses, trying to sort through the debris of his mind for a valid excuse. “I was looking for my tie.” Shit. Her smirk widens, and she turns to look at Christoph. The grin on his face as he pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to her makes all of his blood rush straight down. She approaches him, a long, thin, black stretch of fabric hanging from a finger. The red of her nail polish just visible at its edge.
“What, this tie?” Eli moves to grab it, but she moves her finger out of his reach. She tuts at him. “If you want your tie back, you’re going to have to earn it.” The teasing, flirtatious tone of her voice, combined with the sound of her accent, was making him harder than a fucking rock. See, he definitely wasn’t drunk.
He watches as Christoph walk up behind her, watched his hands wrap around her waist, puling her gently back against his body. Watches his head duck down, grabbing her earlobe between his lips. Eli knows that he’s staring, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He watches, an ardent hunger burning away inside as he watches his mouth, her smile. The way her eyes close, crinkling around the edges. The way his teeth are just visible as they bite down softly.
He watched until Christoph pulled away and turned his head to look straight at Eli, his mouth twisting into a knowing grin. “Don’t tease him, Mélanie.”
“Who is teasing?” She continues to speak, but Eli’s mind wanders. It becomes lost in the intoxicating sound of her accent, the way Christoph’s fingers caressed the fabric of her dress. He eventually focuses on his tie, or, more, specifically, the little sliver of red poking out from beneath. He focuses on the red until it is all he sees, and, following a sudden, inexplicable impulse, he reached his head forward, captured that sliver of red between his lips, and kissed the tip of her finger. He must’ve look like a complete tool but, judging by the sudden intake of breath, the recipient didn’t seem to mind. Her smile twisted into something more evil, and she lowered her voice as she spoke. “Good boy.”
***
The world becomes blurred. Hallways give way to large hotel rooms, harsh brightness to mood lighting. Clothes are soon discarded, and for the first time that night (that morning? It was getting difficult to keep track.) Eli was finally at the sort of party he really enjoyed. His wrists slipped in the tie, his tie, that bound his hands to the bed frame. Sure, he may want to touch, may want to feel those breasts in his hands, twist those nipples with his fingers, scrape his nails over those moles, but he’s pretty happy with things the way they were.
So he lies back as she splays her fingers across his abdomen, digging her nails in slightly as his cock pushes into her cunt, meeting her thrust for thrust. Watches as Christoph fucks her from both sides, two fingers rubbing at her clit as he drives into her from behind. He can feel the head of Christoph’s cock through her body, almost brushing against his own cock with each thrust. He can feel Christoph’s other hand cupping his balls, squeezing when Mélanie squeezes around him.
Mélanie’s fingers move up his torso, agonisingly slow. One stops over his nipple, grasping the nub between two fingers and twisting hard. He makes a strangled yelp that is best forgotten by everyone involved, as her free hand continues to make it’s path upwards, until it reaches Eli’s mouth. He takes the very same finger that his tie had been hanging from and sucks it into his mouth, hollowing his tongue around it as he sucked it in further. Her head arches back, and Christoph’s mouth attacks the long stretch of her neck.
She tightens around Eli’s cock, screaming out unknown French words into the near dark as she comes. Her body slowly relaxes, shuddering through the aftershocks until she is almost spent. Christoph’s hand moves from her cunt to her breast, half cupping it and half keeping her in position as he drives into her. Eli can feel him through her, moving harder and faster. As he comes, he squeeze Eli’s balls hard, preventing him from coming at the same time.
He can feel Christoph’s come dribble from Mélanie’s ass, feel it drip on to his own. Mélanie turns her head back and kisses him, before lifting her body from both of their cocks and moving to Eli’s side, her finger still lingering in his mouth. He looks up at Christoph, notices the salacious grin on his face as he moves down the bed, bends over, and takes Eli’s cock in his mouth. Once more, he can’t help but buck up into tight, moist heat, and as soon as Christoph’s hand releases his balls, he is coming straight into Christoph’s mouth.
Christoph waits until he’s spent, and then, on all fours, crawls up his body. He lifts his head and gives Mélanie a brief, closed-mouth kiss, before moving his head back and capturing Eli’s mouth with his own. Eli can taste himself, taste Christoph, hell, probably Mélanie as well, as the kiss deepens, both too tired to battle for dominance, but both unwilling to stop. He feels a mouth on his neck, cracks an eye open to see Mélanie lazily kiss a path up his jaw bone and across his face, before planting a small kiss on the corner of both his and Christoph’s mouth before sleepily muttering something in French and returning to her previous position, laying on his left side.
Christoph eventually stops the kiss, biting on his lower lip before lifting himself up and moving to Mélanie’s other side. He watches as Christoph settles in, looking at the woman next to him with a small smile on her face before shutting his eyes.
It’s only after both of them are asleep that Eli realises his hands are still tied up.