"'Cause you just responded '*******', so I was wondering if your cat found your computer."
Hello, loyal readers! I am here for my one hundredth Livejournal post! That's right, kids, I spend way too much time online, and, there's no getting around it, it's going to be this fic. Some of you heard about this when I started writing it waaaay back in December, and it was an equally ill-advised idea then, but at least the fandom was still alive. Now, I've finally finished it. It's one of the longest things I've ever written, despite featuring absolutely no plot, and the online fandom I'm about to post it in is pretty much dead.
And, I'm going ahead with the whole thing anyway. So, without further ado.
Title: The One Where Everyone Has Breasts
Pairing: Landa/Hellstrom
Fandom: Inglourious Basterds
Rating: NC-17 This unauthorized rating confiscated by the MPAA.
Summary: Those Wacky Nazis are suddenly turned into women. Femslash ensues.
Warnings: Graphic sex between two men who are currently stuck in women's bodies.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and all that.
Beta'd: No. Anyone care to?
All in all, Landa was adjusting to the change just splendidly. The body he inhabited has never had much bearing on his self-confidence, but, nonetheless, it helped that his new found breasts were simply exquisite, if he did say it himself.
Dieter, on the other hand…
The boy had always been rather insecure about his slender, almost feminine frame, hiding just how pretty he really was under the imposing figure his uniform cuts and a gross excess of pomade. It was what drove Dieter so hard to prove himself, making him into the sharp, sadistic mind Landa so enjoys, but still. Getting him out of his clothes the first time had been enough of a struggle.
As anxious as he was to get his eyes (and hands, and lips…) on Dieter’s new body, the prospect of trying to assuage his insecurities all over again (and it would surely be even worse this time) was not one to which Landa looked forward.
Still, let it never be said that Colonel Hans Landa doesn’t enjoy a challenge.
As far as Dieter was concerned, no part of this situation was acceptable. Not a single aspect, from how tiny his fingers looked holding his cigarette, to the delicate, sickeningly feminine features of his face in the mirror, and least of all the hot, damp folds nestled between his legs which he was not, thank you very much, going to explore. No, none of this met with his approval, but out of all of it, what concerned him most was just how comfortable - no, not just comfortable - delighted Landa seemed to be with all of it.
Even with the extreme admiration and shameful attraction he’d always felt for the man, Dieter can’t deny that Landa has always been a bit flamboyant. Still, even for him, this was a bit much.
Surely, that was enough explanation for Dieter’s unease around the man of late. It certainly bore no relation to just how… curvy… Landa suddenly was.
Either way, Dieter felt he ought not be held accountable for the way his nerves skyrocketed when Landa finally cornered him.
They were sharing a drink at Landa’s flat, which was not uncommon, Landa hoping the familiarity of the situation might put his precious plaything more at ease. His success, however, had been minimal. At first, Dieter had seemed more relaxed than he had since the change, but Landa had seen the exact point in the evening at which Dieter realized what direction he was steering them in.
Exactly the same direction he always did, and to which Dieter had never protested before.
Still, the tension visible in Dieter’s almost fragile frame told Landa that might change tonight. A tension that was rising as the evening wore on. It seemed the time for pretense had past.
Landa set his glass aside, watching grey-green eyes follow his hand.
“Dieter.” The eyes flicked back to him. “Come here.”
For a moment Dieter tensed even further, near to trembling, but under Landa’s steady gaze, his boy slowly rose and moved to stand before him. Landa was pleased to note he still held the same sway over his Dieter as a woman. Gifting him with a benevolent smile for his efforts, Landa patted his legs expectantly.
Awkwardly, Dieter moved to straddle him, clumsy in his unfamiliar body and unhelped by his own uneasiness. Landa stroked his face reassuringly before gently drawing him into a kiss. It did not escape Dieter’s notice the care and patience with which he was being treated, as if he were a skittish animal. He shuddered angrily at the thought. Even worse was the knowledge he required such care.
He jerked and bit at Landa’s lip, earning a light swat to his ass. He jumped and Landa shushed him, petting his sides tenderly.
“Now, now,” He admonished, playful but firm, “Won’t you behave for me, Dieter?”
The familiar sick thrill twisted in his gut at Landa’s tone. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Landa murmured, stroking along his spine, and Dieter couldn’t help but arch into the touch. “Now. Take off your clothes.”
Landa felt all of Dieter’s muscles go taut beneath his hands at the request, and he tightened his grip in warning. Dieter relaxed, with visible effort, and extricated himself from Landa’s arms. Taking a short step back, he began to undo the buttons of his uniform jacket, denying his hands to shake. As he reached the last button and shrugged out the jacket, eyes flickering to Landa’s almost questioningly, he was gifted with nod of encouragement.
He undid his tie, his cufflinks, and untucked his shirt, and then paused. He turned a calculating eye to Landa, whose gaze had suddenly turned stern and cold, and reasoned that it was best just to get on with it. Closing his eyes, he began to unbutton the shirt.
Landa watched with undisguised desire as Dieter’s shaking fingers slowly moved down the front of his shirt, holding it closed even as he undid the buttons. Finally, he reached the last one, presumably finding no other way to stall, shucked it off in one motion to reveal the cloth bandage wrapped painfully tightly around his chest.
This was worse than expected.
Landa leaned forward abruptly and slipped his fingers into the waistband of Dieter’s uniform pants to draw him back into his lap. Pulling him down for a fierce kiss, Landa raised his hands to Dieter’s bound breasts, holding him firmly when he tried to twitch away.
He deftly untied the bandage, massaging Dieter’s undoubtedly sore breasts and drawing out a shuddering groan for his efforts as Dieter trembled under his hands, struggling between the impulses to pull away and arch closer. He gently tweeked nipple, making Dieter jerk out of the kiss, gasping. With his mouth suddenly unoccupied, Landa couldn’t help but notice how convieniently located Dieter’s newly freed breasts were.
The moment Landa’s hot mouth closed on his hardening nipple, Dieter knew he was lost. He moaned aloud, carding a hand through Landa’s short hair and clutching desperately at the arm of the chair with the other. He found his hips pumping anxiously of their own accord, searching for something, anything that would satisfy the throb of arousal and then Landa’s hand slipped between his legs to press against him and he had to bite his lip to keep from keening.
With a final lick, Landa released Dieter’s nipple, which hardened painfully in the sudden cold, and took his hand away to rest on Dieter’s hip.
“Now, shall we adjourn to the bedroom?” He asked, smiling pleasantly while Dieter struggled to catch his breath.
Dieter certainly did not whimper at the sudden loss of contact, but it may have been a near thing. With what had to be impressive strength of will, he picked himself up from Landa’s lap and followed him to the bedroom on, if not steady, at least not visibly shaking, legs.
The moment they were through the door, Landa pulled him into a violent kiss, pressing the entire length of his fully clothed body as close as he could to Dieter’s soft, naked skin. As their teeth clashed, he let his hands wander, until he had Dieter’s hips undulating against him again, and threw him back onto the bed.
Startled, Dieter staggered back and fell back to sprawl across the covers, and Landa took a moment to drink in the view. Dieter’s was even slenderer than before, with a new softness around the edges that made him look more delicate than ever. His breasts were tiny and soft, with big, taut nipples perfectly centered. They rose and fell with Dieter’s labored breath, making him look even more vulnerable, stretched out and completely exposed on the bed.
Landa’s eyes traveled down, following the subtle flaring of Dieter’s hips, the jutting hipbones in place of the slight hollows where Landa loved to dig his fingers in and bruise, and finally the thin, pink lips almost hidden in the thatch of dark, gently curling hair.
Distantly, Landa noted that his own breathing had become quite heavy as well.
Landa quickly shrugged out of his jacket and began work on his shirt, and the tension that had began melting away from Dieter suddenly returned. He jerked upright, shoulders hunching forward as if he was trying to cave in on himself. As undeniably attractive as he still found Landa, their new… situation filled him with uncertainty he hadn’t felt since the first night Landa had brought Dieter to his bed.
His reaction had not gone unnoticed. Landa paused in his disrobing, the collar of his shirt flaring open to show just a sliver of cleavage. He stepped forward, tilting Dieter’s chin up to look at him and gently stroking his neck and shoulders.
“My Dieter,” he murmured, “Don’t you trust me?”
Dieter inhaled sharply. “Not entirely, Sir.”
Landa giggled in surprised delight. “There may be hope for you yet, my boy. Anyway. Do you, at least, trust me here, in this bed we so often share?”
“Yes. Sir.”
“Then why don’t you trust me tonight?”
“I couldn’t really say.”
“Oh, come now, Dieter,” Landa chuckled, “I’ve never known you to be lost for words. You’ve something on your mind, now, out with it.”
“I find myself in something of an unfamiliar situation, as you may have noticed,” Dieter laughed nervously, face flushing ever so slightly. “I hate to be caught unprepared. In fact, as you know, I prefer to have mastered any skill before… asked to perform it for an audience. As it were.”
Landa’s eyes widened in understanding. Of course his Dieter had never taken any women as lovers. This would put him completely out of his element.
“My dear, you have mastered the skill of pleasing me. And I’m sure you will continue to do so.” His smile dissolved. “Now. Take off my shirt.”
Dieter shivered at his tone, and dutifully took over where Landa had left off, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.
Landa’s breasts were ample, with small, smooth nipples that hardened only slightly in the cool air. Dieter slid the shirt off Landa’s shoulders to pool and the floor and hesitantly cupped those full breasts in his hands.
Landa hummed a little in pleasure, and, encouraged, Dieter began to fondle them in earnest, imitating Landa’s ministrations on his own earlier. Landa surged forward, pressing Dieter back onto the bed and straddling him. He leaned down to capture Dieter in a bruising kiss, and Dieter clutched at him desperately.
Tearing himself out of the kiss with not little effort, Landa rolled them so he lay on his back, sprawled beneath Dieter, who looked, to his credit, only slightly disoriented.
He smirked and nodded in the direction of his trousers. “And the rest.”
Obediently, Dieter rocked back onto his heels to tackle Landa’s boots and inadvertently brushed against one, leaving a short, glistening trail over the black leather. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him, and he could feel his cheeks burning. He glanced up to catch Landa’s eye, and found him completely spellbound.
Experimentally, Dieter rocked forward again, eyes falling shut at the slide of cool leather across his folds. Landa didn’t stop him. He leaned forward, bracing himself on one hand, and started rutting against the boot in earnest.
Landa actually moaned.
Dieter looked up at him, leaning back on his elbows to take in the sight. Landa’s eyes were fixed on Dieter’s movements, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, as if in a perpetual gasp. Dieter sped up.
Landa cocked his leg up, giving Dieter just enough more leverage, and his orgasm took him completely by surprise. He jerked hard, once, twice, and he was sure his eyes were still open but for an instant everything went dark.
His vision quickly cleared, and he looked up to see Landa looking at him with what could have been wonder. His legs were trembling, but nonetheless he finished peeling off Landa’s boots and socks, and then kneeled up to reach his slacks.
When Landa was finally naked, he pounced, pining Dieter beneath him again and reaching down to trail his fingers through his boy’s slick folds. Dieter shuddered, still oversensitive, and Landa leaned down to swallow his whimper in a kiss.
As their tongues roiled against each other, Landa thrust two fingers into the younger man. Dieter jerked back with a choked gasp, his body taught as a bow string.
“No.”
Landa stilled, expression unreadable, and carefully withdrew his hand. As his fingers slipped out, he watched a shudder roll through the younger man’s slim frame.
“I’m not-” Dieter started, trailing off uncertainly. He swallowed and looked away. “I’m not. A woman.”
“A fact I find myself inescapably aware of, the nature of our relationship being what it is,” Landa responded wryly, “Now, my dear, if you would care to continue. In whatever way you’re comfortable.”
Dieter looked back at the older man, searching his face. After a moment, who took a steadying breath, and leaned up to recapture Landa’s mouth.
Landa rolled them slowly so Dieter lay comfortably between his thighs, bringing Dieter’s body flush against his own. They kissed slowly, allowing his boy as much time as he needed. Dieter began to work his way down Landa’s body, trailing kisses over his throat, his collarbone, and finally reaching a nipple. Landa ran his finger’s through the boy’s hair, willing himself simply to stroke and not clutch hard enough to hurt as he directed that unparalleled mouth exactly where he wanted it.
Dieter lavished attention on first one breast, and then the other, stalling as he worked up the nerve to continue his descent. Slowly, he worked his way down Landa’s stomach, the muscles tensing and rolling beneath his tongue. Finally, he met the thatch of well-trimmed hair, and hesitated, caught completely unprepared, despite Landa’s earlier assurances.
He rested his face against Landa’s inner thigh, hoping to hide his blush.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered.
Landa’s firm hands descended on his head, guiding him firmly between Landa’s thighs.
“Use your tongue,” he instructed, spreading his legs.
Dieter dutifully obeyed, hesitant at first, and then more confidently at the encouragement of Landa’s throaty moans. He lapped at Landa’s clit and then, growing bolder, he moved down, pointing his tongue and thrusting. Landa gasped, his hands tightening encouraging in his boy’s hair. Soon, his hips were pumping of their own accord, and he dragged Dieter back up to his clit.
“Suck,” he ordered, and practically screamed in pleasure when Dieter complied, arching his back, and stutter-thrust until everything faded to grey.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the woods of Nazi-occupied France, Donnie Donowitz was just stirring from a very, very nice dream about one Pfc. Utivitch, and, alright, possibly his commanding officer, too, warm with arousal, slick and wet between his…
Suddenly, Donnie was quite awake. And quite sure that he should be hard. Hard, not wet.
He looked down and discovered big, plump breasts straining against the worn fabric of his bloodstained wifebeater, and after that, it’s a possibility that he may have screamed.
And, I'm going ahead with the whole thing anyway. So, without further ado.
Title: The One Where Everyone Has Breasts
Pairing: Landa/Hellstrom
Fandom: Inglourious Basterds
Rating: NC-17 This unauthorized rating confiscated by the MPAA.
Summary: Those Wacky Nazis are suddenly turned into women. Femslash ensues.
Warnings: Graphic sex between two men who are currently stuck in women's bodies.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and all that.
Beta'd: No. Anyone care to?
All in all, Landa was adjusting to the change just splendidly. The body he inhabited has never had much bearing on his self-confidence, but, nonetheless, it helped that his new found breasts were simply exquisite, if he did say it himself.
Dieter, on the other hand…
The boy had always been rather insecure about his slender, almost feminine frame, hiding just how pretty he really was under the imposing figure his uniform cuts and a gross excess of pomade. It was what drove Dieter so hard to prove himself, making him into the sharp, sadistic mind Landa so enjoys, but still. Getting him out of his clothes the first time had been enough of a struggle.
As anxious as he was to get his eyes (and hands, and lips…) on Dieter’s new body, the prospect of trying to assuage his insecurities all over again (and it would surely be even worse this time) was not one to which Landa looked forward.
Still, let it never be said that Colonel Hans Landa doesn’t enjoy a challenge.
As far as Dieter was concerned, no part of this situation was acceptable. Not a single aspect, from how tiny his fingers looked holding his cigarette, to the delicate, sickeningly feminine features of his face in the mirror, and least of all the hot, damp folds nestled between his legs which he was not, thank you very much, going to explore. No, none of this met with his approval, but out of all of it, what concerned him most was just how comfortable - no, not just comfortable - delighted Landa seemed to be with all of it.
Even with the extreme admiration and shameful attraction he’d always felt for the man, Dieter can’t deny that Landa has always been a bit flamboyant. Still, even for him, this was a bit much.
Surely, that was enough explanation for Dieter’s unease around the man of late. It certainly bore no relation to just how… curvy… Landa suddenly was.
Either way, Dieter felt he ought not be held accountable for the way his nerves skyrocketed when Landa finally cornered him.
They were sharing a drink at Landa’s flat, which was not uncommon, Landa hoping the familiarity of the situation might put his precious plaything more at ease. His success, however, had been minimal. At first, Dieter had seemed more relaxed than he had since the change, but Landa had seen the exact point in the evening at which Dieter realized what direction he was steering them in.
Exactly the same direction he always did, and to which Dieter had never protested before.
Still, the tension visible in Dieter’s almost fragile frame told Landa that might change tonight. A tension that was rising as the evening wore on. It seemed the time for pretense had past.
Landa set his glass aside, watching grey-green eyes follow his hand.
“Dieter.” The eyes flicked back to him. “Come here.”
For a moment Dieter tensed even further, near to trembling, but under Landa’s steady gaze, his boy slowly rose and moved to stand before him. Landa was pleased to note he still held the same sway over his Dieter as a woman. Gifting him with a benevolent smile for his efforts, Landa patted his legs expectantly.
Awkwardly, Dieter moved to straddle him, clumsy in his unfamiliar body and unhelped by his own uneasiness. Landa stroked his face reassuringly before gently drawing him into a kiss. It did not escape Dieter’s notice the care and patience with which he was being treated, as if he were a skittish animal. He shuddered angrily at the thought. Even worse was the knowledge he required such care.
He jerked and bit at Landa’s lip, earning a light swat to his ass. He jumped and Landa shushed him, petting his sides tenderly.
“Now, now,” He admonished, playful but firm, “Won’t you behave for me, Dieter?”
The familiar sick thrill twisted in his gut at Landa’s tone. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Landa murmured, stroking along his spine, and Dieter couldn’t help but arch into the touch. “Now. Take off your clothes.”
Landa felt all of Dieter’s muscles go taut beneath his hands at the request, and he tightened his grip in warning. Dieter relaxed, with visible effort, and extricated himself from Landa’s arms. Taking a short step back, he began to undo the buttons of his uniform jacket, denying his hands to shake. As he reached the last button and shrugged out the jacket, eyes flickering to Landa’s almost questioningly, he was gifted with nod of encouragement.
He undid his tie, his cufflinks, and untucked his shirt, and then paused. He turned a calculating eye to Landa, whose gaze had suddenly turned stern and cold, and reasoned that it was best just to get on with it. Closing his eyes, he began to unbutton the shirt.
Landa watched with undisguised desire as Dieter’s shaking fingers slowly moved down the front of his shirt, holding it closed even as he undid the buttons. Finally, he reached the last one, presumably finding no other way to stall, shucked it off in one motion to reveal the cloth bandage wrapped painfully tightly around his chest.
This was worse than expected.
Landa leaned forward abruptly and slipped his fingers into the waistband of Dieter’s uniform pants to draw him back into his lap. Pulling him down for a fierce kiss, Landa raised his hands to Dieter’s bound breasts, holding him firmly when he tried to twitch away.
He deftly untied the bandage, massaging Dieter’s undoubtedly sore breasts and drawing out a shuddering groan for his efforts as Dieter trembled under his hands, struggling between the impulses to pull away and arch closer. He gently tweeked nipple, making Dieter jerk out of the kiss, gasping. With his mouth suddenly unoccupied, Landa couldn’t help but notice how convieniently located Dieter’s newly freed breasts were.
The moment Landa’s hot mouth closed on his hardening nipple, Dieter knew he was lost. He moaned aloud, carding a hand through Landa’s short hair and clutching desperately at the arm of the chair with the other. He found his hips pumping anxiously of their own accord, searching for something, anything that would satisfy the throb of arousal and then Landa’s hand slipped between his legs to press against him and he had to bite his lip to keep from keening.
With a final lick, Landa released Dieter’s nipple, which hardened painfully in the sudden cold, and took his hand away to rest on Dieter’s hip.
“Now, shall we adjourn to the bedroom?” He asked, smiling pleasantly while Dieter struggled to catch his breath.
Dieter certainly did not whimper at the sudden loss of contact, but it may have been a near thing. With what had to be impressive strength of will, he picked himself up from Landa’s lap and followed him to the bedroom on, if not steady, at least not visibly shaking, legs.
The moment they were through the door, Landa pulled him into a violent kiss, pressing the entire length of his fully clothed body as close as he could to Dieter’s soft, naked skin. As their teeth clashed, he let his hands wander, until he had Dieter’s hips undulating against him again, and threw him back onto the bed.
Startled, Dieter staggered back and fell back to sprawl across the covers, and Landa took a moment to drink in the view. Dieter’s was even slenderer than before, with a new softness around the edges that made him look more delicate than ever. His breasts were tiny and soft, with big, taut nipples perfectly centered. They rose and fell with Dieter’s labored breath, making him look even more vulnerable, stretched out and completely exposed on the bed.
Landa’s eyes traveled down, following the subtle flaring of Dieter’s hips, the jutting hipbones in place of the slight hollows where Landa loved to dig his fingers in and bruise, and finally the thin, pink lips almost hidden in the thatch of dark, gently curling hair.
Distantly, Landa noted that his own breathing had become quite heavy as well.
Landa quickly shrugged out of his jacket and began work on his shirt, and the tension that had began melting away from Dieter suddenly returned. He jerked upright, shoulders hunching forward as if he was trying to cave in on himself. As undeniably attractive as he still found Landa, their new… situation filled him with uncertainty he hadn’t felt since the first night Landa had brought Dieter to his bed.
His reaction had not gone unnoticed. Landa paused in his disrobing, the collar of his shirt flaring open to show just a sliver of cleavage. He stepped forward, tilting Dieter’s chin up to look at him and gently stroking his neck and shoulders.
“My Dieter,” he murmured, “Don’t you trust me?”
Dieter inhaled sharply. “Not entirely, Sir.”
Landa giggled in surprised delight. “There may be hope for you yet, my boy. Anyway. Do you, at least, trust me here, in this bed we so often share?”
“Yes. Sir.”
“Then why don’t you trust me tonight?”
“I couldn’t really say.”
“Oh, come now, Dieter,” Landa chuckled, “I’ve never known you to be lost for words. You’ve something on your mind, now, out with it.”
“I find myself in something of an unfamiliar situation, as you may have noticed,” Dieter laughed nervously, face flushing ever so slightly. “I hate to be caught unprepared. In fact, as you know, I prefer to have mastered any skill before… asked to perform it for an audience. As it were.”
Landa’s eyes widened in understanding. Of course his Dieter had never taken any women as lovers. This would put him completely out of his element.
“My dear, you have mastered the skill of pleasing me. And I’m sure you will continue to do so.” His smile dissolved. “Now. Take off my shirt.”
Dieter shivered at his tone, and dutifully took over where Landa had left off, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.
Landa’s breasts were ample, with small, smooth nipples that hardened only slightly in the cool air. Dieter slid the shirt off Landa’s shoulders to pool and the floor and hesitantly cupped those full breasts in his hands.
Landa hummed a little in pleasure, and, encouraged, Dieter began to fondle them in earnest, imitating Landa’s ministrations on his own earlier. Landa surged forward, pressing Dieter back onto the bed and straddling him. He leaned down to capture Dieter in a bruising kiss, and Dieter clutched at him desperately.
Tearing himself out of the kiss with not little effort, Landa rolled them so he lay on his back, sprawled beneath Dieter, who looked, to his credit, only slightly disoriented.
He smirked and nodded in the direction of his trousers. “And the rest.”
Obediently, Dieter rocked back onto his heels to tackle Landa’s boots and inadvertently brushed against one, leaving a short, glistening trail over the black leather. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him, and he could feel his cheeks burning. He glanced up to catch Landa’s eye, and found him completely spellbound.
Experimentally, Dieter rocked forward again, eyes falling shut at the slide of cool leather across his folds. Landa didn’t stop him. He leaned forward, bracing himself on one hand, and started rutting against the boot in earnest.
Landa actually moaned.
Dieter looked up at him, leaning back on his elbows to take in the sight. Landa’s eyes were fixed on Dieter’s movements, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, as if in a perpetual gasp. Dieter sped up.
Landa cocked his leg up, giving Dieter just enough more leverage, and his orgasm took him completely by surprise. He jerked hard, once, twice, and he was sure his eyes were still open but for an instant everything went dark.
His vision quickly cleared, and he looked up to see Landa looking at him with what could have been wonder. His legs were trembling, but nonetheless he finished peeling off Landa’s boots and socks, and then kneeled up to reach his slacks.
When Landa was finally naked, he pounced, pining Dieter beneath him again and reaching down to trail his fingers through his boy’s slick folds. Dieter shuddered, still oversensitive, and Landa leaned down to swallow his whimper in a kiss.
As their tongues roiled against each other, Landa thrust two fingers into the younger man. Dieter jerked back with a choked gasp, his body taught as a bow string.
“No.”
Landa stilled, expression unreadable, and carefully withdrew his hand. As his fingers slipped out, he watched a shudder roll through the younger man’s slim frame.
“I’m not-” Dieter started, trailing off uncertainly. He swallowed and looked away. “I’m not. A woman.”
“A fact I find myself inescapably aware of, the nature of our relationship being what it is,” Landa responded wryly, “Now, my dear, if you would care to continue. In whatever way you’re comfortable.”
Dieter looked back at the older man, searching his face. After a moment, who took a steadying breath, and leaned up to recapture Landa’s mouth.
Landa rolled them slowly so Dieter lay comfortably between his thighs, bringing Dieter’s body flush against his own. They kissed slowly, allowing his boy as much time as he needed. Dieter began to work his way down Landa’s body, trailing kisses over his throat, his collarbone, and finally reaching a nipple. Landa ran his finger’s through the boy’s hair, willing himself simply to stroke and not clutch hard enough to hurt as he directed that unparalleled mouth exactly where he wanted it.
Dieter lavished attention on first one breast, and then the other, stalling as he worked up the nerve to continue his descent. Slowly, he worked his way down Landa’s stomach, the muscles tensing and rolling beneath his tongue. Finally, he met the thatch of well-trimmed hair, and hesitated, caught completely unprepared, despite Landa’s earlier assurances.
He rested his face against Landa’s inner thigh, hoping to hide his blush.
“Tell me what to do,” he whispered.
Landa’s firm hands descended on his head, guiding him firmly between Landa’s thighs.
“Use your tongue,” he instructed, spreading his legs.
Dieter dutifully obeyed, hesitant at first, and then more confidently at the encouragement of Landa’s throaty moans. He lapped at Landa’s clit and then, growing bolder, he moved down, pointing his tongue and thrusting. Landa gasped, his hands tightening encouraging in his boy’s hair. Soon, his hips were pumping of their own accord, and he dragged Dieter back up to his clit.
“Suck,” he ordered, and practically screamed in pleasure when Dieter complied, arching his back, and stutter-thrust until everything faded to grey.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the woods of Nazi-occupied France, Donnie Donowitz was just stirring from a very, very nice dream about one Pfc. Utivitch, and, alright, possibly his commanding officer, too, warm with arousal, slick and wet between his…
Suddenly, Donnie was quite awake. And quite sure that he should be hard. Hard, not wet.
He looked down and discovered big, plump breasts straining against the worn fabric of his bloodstained wifebeater, and after that, it’s a possibility that he may have screamed.