Ficcage!
Ok, everybody. This bit of fic was written as a little fun for myself, after I watched a very beautiful but very awkward movie called Love in Thoughts. It's a German language movie made in 2003, starring August Diehl and Daniel Bruhl. Here's the Wikipedia page for it, for reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_in_Thoughts
Title: Fuchs, Du Hast Die Gans Gestohlen
Summary: Hans and Guenther have known each other almost as long as Guenther has known Paul, but before there was 'the falling out', Guenther's whole life revolved around the straggly blond soup boy.
Warnings: Portrayals of gay sex and/or gay situations, language
Rating: NC-17 (or NC-whatever, depending on your level of prudism)
Notes: THIS POST WILL NOT BE F-LOCKED BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE WILL BE UNABLE TO READ THE FICCAGE. This fandom needs more fic and love, so please don't click the cut if you're against this sort of thing.
It didn't matter how many times he caught his sister with Hans, Guenther still forgave him. He struggled with inner demons so strong, that he had to bite his lip and draw blood in order to stave off their attack. Hans saw it and smirked each time, his face alight with mischief and the smug satisfaction that only came from a job well done.
“You're a fucking monster,” Guenther said softly, as Hans left Hilde in the formal sitting room and followed the smaller male into the parlour. “Why can't you just leave us alone?”
The blond snorted loudly and flopped his lean frame onto the closet divan, its slightly faded and unused surface puffing a light cloud of dust around him.
“Your sister's easy. Why else would I be sticking around?”
The words stung Guenther and he grimaced, his usually brilliant eyes darkening with hatred. He loathed the older man with a passion, but he also held a fire for him that matched that hatred; passion of a different sort. He clenched his hands and stood his ground, not about to be rebuffed so openly in his own home.
“You'll sleep with her and give me chaste little kisses when we're alone, is that it?”
“Chaste? You split my lip the last time I tried to kiss you.”
Guenther swallowed visibly, remembering the last time the two were together. They had stolen away from one of the summer parties the brother and sister team held each year, and had enjoyed each other in the garden shed before sneaking back unseen.
Well, mostly unseen. Guenther's poetic friend, Paul, had seen them. He was a good friend, Guenther had determined. He had kept their secret from Hilde, though it was an obvious pain for him to do so. They all knew how much she cared for Hans, even at that time, and Paul had held a flame for her for a very long time.
“You deserved it! Everyone was watching at the bonfire!”
Hans chuckled and rested his head against the divan's cushioned back panel, his hair ruffled to the side as he shifted to watch Guenther pacing the room. He dropped a hand to his groin and hefted the other over his head, his fingers toying with a stray piece of hair. He was an inviting sight. Guenther could hardly deny him that. The younger man broke his foul frown and smirked lightly, his left canine visible.
“Hilde's on the telephone with Elli. We've got time,” Hans said softly, his lower hand massaging his crotch with an intensity that belied his seemingly calm demeanor. “What do you think?”
Taboo or not, Guenther could not deny himself the pleasure that came with being bedded by Hans. The man was an absolute wizard with his hands, though his kissing style left much to be desired. Like his sister, Guenther was used to the efforts needed to be with multiple partners but despite Hans' ineptness at kissing, Guenther still pushed all others aside when the chance to garner the blond's attention was in view.
“Take them off,” Guenther whispered suddenly, his hands unclenched but still sitting stiffly at his sides.
Hans obeyed immediately, standing up to tug his slacks and underwear down, the awkwardly star-shaped birthmark above his groin so glaringly inviting that Guenther caught himself licking his lips as he stared at it. Guenther moved to the wide double doors and closed them silently, throwing the catch at the bottom and flicking the handle lock as well, securing their privacy.
“Ohh, someone's serious,” Hans chided, his smile still in place even as he stood beside the divan in only his partially open shirt and socks.
Guenther frowned but stepped closer anyway, immediately regretting the decision as Hans' unoccupied hand lashed out to grab a hold of the scarf the younger man wore. Guenther brought a hand to Hans' to keep him from tightening it, while the other wound around his neck, their mouths crushing together with the painful and audible click of teeth.
Both men pulled their heads back to lick at their assaulted teeth before Guenther went back in for a proper kiss, his tongue lapping at Hans' bottom lip, laving the small bump on the side where he had broken the skin with a sharp slap barely a year before. Hans breathed deeply, his other hand around Guenther's waist, holding the slimmer form against himself so he could rub his cock against the other man's slacks, the soft but thick material only adding to his frustrated state of arousal.
Guenther had a feminine quality about him that Hans found incredibly erotic; like a woman who cared more about her personality than her beauty. There was no carefully created hairstyle to ruin and no make-up to muss. All a man had to do with Guenther was take what they wanted and he would moan like a whore; the perfect incentive for a man like Hans. A man who only craved the warmth of another body and cared little for what lay between its legs. Women like Hilde he could find anywhere but if tolerating her affections meant more of the vicious jealousy sex Guenther offered, Hans could tolerate her forever.
Hans pulled away suddenly from the lingering kiss and tugged hard on the scarf, forcing Guenther down and to his knees, though once the direction was shown, the younger man hardly had an issue with it. Brilliant hazel eyes looked up into Hans' face, the hand once holding the scarf now curling over Guenther's cheek in a loving gesture, one given at few-and-far-between intervals during their secretive courtship.
“Softly, remember?”
Guenther nodded and took Hans' cock in his hand, parting his legs as he kneeled, getting a better center of gravity so that the bobbing he would come to do would not throw him off balance and ruin the mood. Hans was not large by any means but he was enough of a handful-and mouthful-that Guenther could gag himself around it if he moved too quickly.
The larger man hissed, both hands buried in Guenther's hair as the warm, encapsulating mouth surrounded him. His right knee quaked from the onslaught and he shifted gently to back his calves up against the front of the divan, locking them with as much thought as was necessary at that moment. His mind was obviously elsewhere but he retained enough intelligence to avoid thrusting into Guenther's mouth, letting the younger man do what he wanted, Hans knowing that he would be given his release in due time.
“Hold me more tightly,” Hans ordered, his hands now massaging at Guenther's scalp, his short nails scratching little patterns through the other's soft hair. “But keep licking like that. Ahhh, yes...that's it.”
Guenther sighed heavily around the flesh he was so lovingly servicing; a sigh of happiness, not tedium. He loved to give such taboo love to the other man, especially when it was in his own summer house, and not in some filthy alley or back room at the parties they attended in Berlin. With enough absinthe in his system and a longing stare from across the room, Guenther could be coerced into doing almost anything.
Almost.
Hans slowly began to thrust into Guenther's mouth and was rewarded with a sharp set of teeth dragging against his tender skin, drawing a raspy cry from him and a filled grin from the other male.
“Softly, I said!” he whispered loudly, pulling hard on Guenther's hair and watching with sick delight as the other man grimaced around him.
Guenther's tongue never stopped moving, however, even through the momentary harsh treatment. Like a dog wagging its tail even when being beaten by its master, Guenther continued to stimulate the larger man while he was having his hair pulled at the roots.
The big hands in his hair slowed their tiny gestures and then grabbed violently hard, holding Guenther's head still. Hans grunted out loud--a sound surely heard by Hilde in the other room-and released into Guenther's mouth, the larger form shuddering as the teasing tongue continued to lap at the slit of Hans' cock. The light licking had been the catalyst in Hans' release and it happened wuickly enough to anger him, though the soft sucking sounds and the feel of warm lips on an overly sensitive body part kept his attention instead.
Guenther was on his feet in a matter of seconds and waved his hands for Hans to get dressed again, no longer hearing the loud, chittery laughter of his sister as she spoke to her best friend. Elli was usually in bed by midnight and the clock had rolled over and past it while Guenther was on his knees, so the pair had been on borrowed time for longer than they had realized.
“Put your pants back on!” Guenther whispered, smiling as he draped himself against the corner of the divan. “She's going to come looking for us!”
“She can't get in, jackass. You locked the door.”
As Hans buttoned his fly, the double doors swung open, a flustered and frowning Hilde stepping in with a flourish of sundress and blond curls. Hans looked to Guenther who simply stood up and wandered over to his sister, curling an arm around her tiny waist and swirling her around in a mock dance, his face pressed against her exposed neck.
“I see you remembered how to unlock the doors, Hilde-girl,” Guenther cooed, his head spinning from the twirls.
“Hairpin in the lock, quarter turn to the right, full turn to the left,” she answered, her voice lilting with the telltale signs of drunkeness. A few glasses of wine in the afternoon had become somewhat of a habit and though Guenther disapproved, he could not deny his sister anything.
Hilde giggled after the third spin and pushed him away, turning her eyes upon Hans as Guenther wandered away from the parlour, his eyes downcast as he silently wished that he could close his ears to the words of love they spoke to each other.
Just one secret short of a conspiracy, his mind told him. They're going to turn on you one day.
Guenther scoffed to himself, his right eye twitching as he felt something pop inside his skull, like a balloon pushed past its limits. He chuckled to himself as he poured a glass of scotch in the kitchen, holding the liquor on his tongue before swallowing with a loud gulp, the barest hints of the amber liquid still lingering in the bottom of the glass.
He hummed an old German folksong to himself as he rocked on his heels, the glass clutched protectively in his hand. He remembered the words because of sheer memorization, after years upon years of singing it to Hilde, the words never ringing as true as they did that night.
“Fox, you've stolen the goose
Give it back!
Give it back!
Or the hunter will fetch you
With his gun,
Or the hunter will fetch you
With his gun.
His big, long gun,
Shoots a small shot at you,
So, you're tinged with red
And then you're dead.
Dear little fox, let yourself be advised:
Don't be a thief,
You need no roast goose,
Rather take a mouse.”
----------------------
German version (read the way Guenther would actually be speaking it):
Fuchs, du hast die Gans gestohlen,
Gib sie wieder her!
Gib sie wieder her!
Sonst wird dich der Jäger holen
Mit dem Schießgewehr,
Sonst wird dich der Jäger holen
Mit dem Schießgewehr.
Seine große, lange Flinte,
Schießt auf dich den Schrot,
Daß dich färbt die rote Tinte,
Und dann bist du tot.
Liebes Füchslein, laß dir raten:
Sei doch nur kein Dieb,
Nimm, du brauchst nicht Gänsebraten,
Mit der Maus vorlieb.
Title: Fuchs, Du Hast Die Gans Gestohlen
Summary: Hans and Guenther have known each other almost as long as Guenther has known Paul, but before there was 'the falling out', Guenther's whole life revolved around the straggly blond soup boy.
Warnings: Portrayals of gay sex and/or gay situations, language
Rating: NC-17 (or NC-whatever, depending on your level of prudism)
Notes: THIS POST WILL NOT BE F-LOCKED BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE WILL BE UNABLE TO READ THE FICCAGE. This fandom needs more fic and love, so please don't click the cut if you're against this sort of thing.
It didn't matter how many times he caught his sister with Hans, Guenther still forgave him. He struggled with inner demons so strong, that he had to bite his lip and draw blood in order to stave off their attack. Hans saw it and smirked each time, his face alight with mischief and the smug satisfaction that only came from a job well done.
“You're a fucking monster,” Guenther said softly, as Hans left Hilde in the formal sitting room and followed the smaller male into the parlour. “Why can't you just leave us alone?”
The blond snorted loudly and flopped his lean frame onto the closet divan, its slightly faded and unused surface puffing a light cloud of dust around him.
“Your sister's easy. Why else would I be sticking around?”
The words stung Guenther and he grimaced, his usually brilliant eyes darkening with hatred. He loathed the older man with a passion, but he also held a fire for him that matched that hatred; passion of a different sort. He clenched his hands and stood his ground, not about to be rebuffed so openly in his own home.
“You'll sleep with her and give me chaste little kisses when we're alone, is that it?”
“Chaste? You split my lip the last time I tried to kiss you.”
Guenther swallowed visibly, remembering the last time the two were together. They had stolen away from one of the summer parties the brother and sister team held each year, and had enjoyed each other in the garden shed before sneaking back unseen.
Well, mostly unseen. Guenther's poetic friend, Paul, had seen them. He was a good friend, Guenther had determined. He had kept their secret from Hilde, though it was an obvious pain for him to do so. They all knew how much she cared for Hans, even at that time, and Paul had held a flame for her for a very long time.
“You deserved it! Everyone was watching at the bonfire!”
Hans chuckled and rested his head against the divan's cushioned back panel, his hair ruffled to the side as he shifted to watch Guenther pacing the room. He dropped a hand to his groin and hefted the other over his head, his fingers toying with a stray piece of hair. He was an inviting sight. Guenther could hardly deny him that. The younger man broke his foul frown and smirked lightly, his left canine visible.
“Hilde's on the telephone with Elli. We've got time,” Hans said softly, his lower hand massaging his crotch with an intensity that belied his seemingly calm demeanor. “What do you think?”
Taboo or not, Guenther could not deny himself the pleasure that came with being bedded by Hans. The man was an absolute wizard with his hands, though his kissing style left much to be desired. Like his sister, Guenther was used to the efforts needed to be with multiple partners but despite Hans' ineptness at kissing, Guenther still pushed all others aside when the chance to garner the blond's attention was in view.
“Take them off,” Guenther whispered suddenly, his hands unclenched but still sitting stiffly at his sides.
Hans obeyed immediately, standing up to tug his slacks and underwear down, the awkwardly star-shaped birthmark above his groin so glaringly inviting that Guenther caught himself licking his lips as he stared at it. Guenther moved to the wide double doors and closed them silently, throwing the catch at the bottom and flicking the handle lock as well, securing their privacy.
“Ohh, someone's serious,” Hans chided, his smile still in place even as he stood beside the divan in only his partially open shirt and socks.
Guenther frowned but stepped closer anyway, immediately regretting the decision as Hans' unoccupied hand lashed out to grab a hold of the scarf the younger man wore. Guenther brought a hand to Hans' to keep him from tightening it, while the other wound around his neck, their mouths crushing together with the painful and audible click of teeth.
Both men pulled their heads back to lick at their assaulted teeth before Guenther went back in for a proper kiss, his tongue lapping at Hans' bottom lip, laving the small bump on the side where he had broken the skin with a sharp slap barely a year before. Hans breathed deeply, his other hand around Guenther's waist, holding the slimmer form against himself so he could rub his cock against the other man's slacks, the soft but thick material only adding to his frustrated state of arousal.
Guenther had a feminine quality about him that Hans found incredibly erotic; like a woman who cared more about her personality than her beauty. There was no carefully created hairstyle to ruin and no make-up to muss. All a man had to do with Guenther was take what they wanted and he would moan like a whore; the perfect incentive for a man like Hans. A man who only craved the warmth of another body and cared little for what lay between its legs. Women like Hilde he could find anywhere but if tolerating her affections meant more of the vicious jealousy sex Guenther offered, Hans could tolerate her forever.
Hans pulled away suddenly from the lingering kiss and tugged hard on the scarf, forcing Guenther down and to his knees, though once the direction was shown, the younger man hardly had an issue with it. Brilliant hazel eyes looked up into Hans' face, the hand once holding the scarf now curling over Guenther's cheek in a loving gesture, one given at few-and-far-between intervals during their secretive courtship.
“Softly, remember?”
Guenther nodded and took Hans' cock in his hand, parting his legs as he kneeled, getting a better center of gravity so that the bobbing he would come to do would not throw him off balance and ruin the mood. Hans was not large by any means but he was enough of a handful-and mouthful-that Guenther could gag himself around it if he moved too quickly.
The larger man hissed, both hands buried in Guenther's hair as the warm, encapsulating mouth surrounded him. His right knee quaked from the onslaught and he shifted gently to back his calves up against the front of the divan, locking them with as much thought as was necessary at that moment. His mind was obviously elsewhere but he retained enough intelligence to avoid thrusting into Guenther's mouth, letting the younger man do what he wanted, Hans knowing that he would be given his release in due time.
“Hold me more tightly,” Hans ordered, his hands now massaging at Guenther's scalp, his short nails scratching little patterns through the other's soft hair. “But keep licking like that. Ahhh, yes...that's it.”
Guenther sighed heavily around the flesh he was so lovingly servicing; a sigh of happiness, not tedium. He loved to give such taboo love to the other man, especially when it was in his own summer house, and not in some filthy alley or back room at the parties they attended in Berlin. With enough absinthe in his system and a longing stare from across the room, Guenther could be coerced into doing almost anything.
Almost.
Hans slowly began to thrust into Guenther's mouth and was rewarded with a sharp set of teeth dragging against his tender skin, drawing a raspy cry from him and a filled grin from the other male.
“Softly, I said!” he whispered loudly, pulling hard on Guenther's hair and watching with sick delight as the other man grimaced around him.
Guenther's tongue never stopped moving, however, even through the momentary harsh treatment. Like a dog wagging its tail even when being beaten by its master, Guenther continued to stimulate the larger man while he was having his hair pulled at the roots.
The big hands in his hair slowed their tiny gestures and then grabbed violently hard, holding Guenther's head still. Hans grunted out loud--a sound surely heard by Hilde in the other room-and released into Guenther's mouth, the larger form shuddering as the teasing tongue continued to lap at the slit of Hans' cock. The light licking had been the catalyst in Hans' release and it happened wuickly enough to anger him, though the soft sucking sounds and the feel of warm lips on an overly sensitive body part kept his attention instead.
Guenther was on his feet in a matter of seconds and waved his hands for Hans to get dressed again, no longer hearing the loud, chittery laughter of his sister as she spoke to her best friend. Elli was usually in bed by midnight and the clock had rolled over and past it while Guenther was on his knees, so the pair had been on borrowed time for longer than they had realized.
“Put your pants back on!” Guenther whispered, smiling as he draped himself against the corner of the divan. “She's going to come looking for us!”
“She can't get in, jackass. You locked the door.”
As Hans buttoned his fly, the double doors swung open, a flustered and frowning Hilde stepping in with a flourish of sundress and blond curls. Hans looked to Guenther who simply stood up and wandered over to his sister, curling an arm around her tiny waist and swirling her around in a mock dance, his face pressed against her exposed neck.
“I see you remembered how to unlock the doors, Hilde-girl,” Guenther cooed, his head spinning from the twirls.
“Hairpin in the lock, quarter turn to the right, full turn to the left,” she answered, her voice lilting with the telltale signs of drunkeness. A few glasses of wine in the afternoon had become somewhat of a habit and though Guenther disapproved, he could not deny his sister anything.
Hilde giggled after the third spin and pushed him away, turning her eyes upon Hans as Guenther wandered away from the parlour, his eyes downcast as he silently wished that he could close his ears to the words of love they spoke to each other.
Just one secret short of a conspiracy, his mind told him. They're going to turn on you one day.
Guenther scoffed to himself, his right eye twitching as he felt something pop inside his skull, like a balloon pushed past its limits. He chuckled to himself as he poured a glass of scotch in the kitchen, holding the liquor on his tongue before swallowing with a loud gulp, the barest hints of the amber liquid still lingering in the bottom of the glass.
He hummed an old German folksong to himself as he rocked on his heels, the glass clutched protectively in his hand. He remembered the words because of sheer memorization, after years upon years of singing it to Hilde, the words never ringing as true as they did that night.
“Fox, you've stolen the goose
Give it back!
Give it back!
Or the hunter will fetch you
With his gun,
Or the hunter will fetch you
With his gun.
His big, long gun,
Shoots a small shot at you,
So, you're tinged with red
And then you're dead.
Dear little fox, let yourself be advised:
Don't be a thief,
You need no roast goose,
Rather take a mouse.”
----------------------
German version (read the way Guenther would actually be speaking it):
Fuchs, du hast die Gans gestohlen,
Gib sie wieder her!
Gib sie wieder her!
Sonst wird dich der Jäger holen
Mit dem Schießgewehr,
Sonst wird dich der Jäger holen
Mit dem Schießgewehr.
Seine große, lange Flinte,
Schießt auf dich den Schrot,
Daß dich färbt die rote Tinte,
Und dann bist du tot.
Liebes Füchslein, laß dir raten:
Sei doch nur kein Dieb,
Nimm, du brauchst nicht Gänsebraten,
Mit der Maus vorlieb.