Fanfic: When in Rome - Inglourious Basterds
Title: When in Rome
Author: napalmiris
Fandom: Inglourious Basterds
Pairing/Character: Aldo/Hugo, guest appearance by Wicki
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2207
Warnings: GRAPHIC M/M, language, established relationship
Summary: Aldo shows Hugo who's really in charge.
Disclaimer: Quentin owns them, I just like making them fuck.
Note: This is a bit of a sequel to my other Aldo/Hugo fic Right Where They Left but this stands on its own :)
They were passing through a small village when Aldo decided they’d stay the night at an inn. The Basterds whooped and hollered and thanked their Lieutenant, probably thinking he was doing it out of the kindness in his heart. But the truth was Aldo had only one thing on his mind, and that thing was the only man not laughing, just staring at him with this knowing smirk tugging at his lips that no one but Aldo would notice.
When they finally managed to threaten the proprietor into keeping his fucking yap shut, Aldo divided the men into three rooms. He never wanted to play favorites but at the moment he didn’t give a shit, and ordered Stiglitz and Wicki to stay with him. No one questioned it and pretty soon they were all snug as bugs in their piss poor excuses for rooms, Aldo having a hell of a time focusing on looking out the window for would-be assailants and not staring at Hugo, who had taken to the corner to play with that fucking knife of his. It was almost like he was daring Aldo to throw him to the floor and fuck him right there with Wicki standing only a few feet away, and for half a second he actually considered doing it.
“Wicki,” Aldo barked, making the Corporal stand at full attention. “Take one of the other boys and go into
town. Rustle us up some decent fuckin’ food for once. Maybe git some a that, whattaya call it? That square thing with the cinnamon -”
“Kuchen?”
“Yeah, that was pretty good. Pick up a few of them.”
“Yes, sir.” Wicki left the room, keeping his features level even if Aldo could see a hint of suspicion, maybe even outright realization in his eyes. Well fuck, they were all bound to find out anyway. Might as well give them something to talk about.
When the door clicked shut Aldo strode over to the still sitting Hugo, standing over him, eyes following the steady up and down movements of the blade against the strip of leather before finally speaking. “We gotta talk.”
Hugo continued his ritual, not bothering to raise his head. “About what, sir?” Aldo wasn’t sure but he could swear he heard a hint of amusement in the German’s voice.
“About that little stunt ya pulled a few days back.”
“And what stunt would that be?”
“Look at me when I’m speakin’ to ya Sergeant.” Hugo’s hand paused, the knife slipping away from the leather as he slowly rose his head. The glare being directed at Aldo would have curdled the blood of any other man if it was genuine, but they both knew this wasn’t anything more than a game, an itch that needed to be scratched before they both did something they’d regret.
The Lieutenant grinned. “I bet you thought it was pretty cute ambushin’ me in woods, huh?”
“Cute sir?”
“Yeah, cute. And if you remember, I said that this wasn’t over. Not by a fuckin’ sight.” Hugo’s eyes followed his hand as Aldo reached over to his hip and pulled out his bowie knife. “On yer feet soldier.”
There was a moment of silence before Hugo methodically replaced his knife to its sheath. He set aside the sharpening leather, movements slow, easy. Aldo stepped back to give him some room to stand, Hugo’s eyes not breaking contact as he finally rose from the chair.
Aldo held the tip of his blade in the space beneath Hugo’s chin, causing the German to raise his head just slightly, exposing the bob of his adam‘s apple when he swallowed. The urge to lean forward and drag his tongue up that throat roared through Aldo, and he barely managed to keep himself in place.
“Good, yer finally learnin’ to obey orders.” Aldo kept his knife in front of him as he backed up to the single window in the room, perching on the edge of the sill and folding his arms across his chest.
Hugo stood stock still, and Aldo could almost see the tension running through his body, the expectation in the flex of his fingers.
Aldo licked his lips and said, “Take yer clothes off.”
This time Hugo gave him a full on grin, the cocky one he usually reserved for times when he really wanted to piss Donny off. “Sir?“
“You heard me. Now take. Yer fuckin’. Clothes off.”
A moment of hesitation before Hugo’s hands started to work on the buttons of his jacket, rushing through them like it was a fucking mad dash to get it off.
“Take yer time son,” said Aldo, pointing to the door, “Wicki’s not comin’ back for some time yet.”
Hugo’s smile widened as he did what he was told, easing each button out of the hole, almost agonizingly slow and Aldo knew he was doing it to get a rise out of him. But he sure as hell wasn’t Donny, and luckily for Aldo patience was the only virtue he had left, so he let Hugo have his little ‘fuck you’ and waited.
Eventually Hugo finished, the jacket sliding off his shoulders and falling to a heap on the floor. Next came his shirt, which he pulled over his head, giving Aldo a goddamn perfect view of his chest and abdomen, his gaze following the tense ripple of muscles to the lip of the man’s trousers. The Lieutenant had never gotten a decent look at Hugo’s body, only able to vaguely recall what he’d mapped out in the dark with his hands. It was hard to tell just what was hiding underneath all those layers of cloth, and Aldo felt his cock twitch with the sight of it.
Kneeling down Hugo unlaced his boots, tossing them and his socks aside. Fingers worked on his pants next, the sound of the zipper almost deafening in the small room. Aldo leaned back as Hugo slide his trousers down, fabric pooling around his feet before he kicked them off.
Hugo was standing naked as the day he was born, half hard and waiting for Aldo’s next order.
The Lieutenant released a slow breath through his nose. “Now turn around and git up against that there wall.”
Hugo cocked his head. “Make me.”
Aldo closed the distance between them, one hand shoving Hugo up against the wall while the other gripped tightly to the antler handle of his bowie knife.
Hugo was still grinning when Aldo leaned in, lips brushing the side of the man’s mouth when he spoke, “Turn around.” It was practically a growl, and Aldo could feel the hard press of Hugo’s erection digging into his thigh, the scorching heat of his skin against his palm. The smirk disappeared from Hugo’s face, his breathing had picked up speed, his pupils were dilated until all Aldo could see was black. That was the look he wanted to see, just shy of absolute bloodlust, crazed but not crazy.
Instead of the tussle the Lieutenant expected, Hugo’s body twisted, sliding against Aldo as he turned to face the wall. He didn’t think Hugo would give in so easily, but then again he never really could figure out why Hugo did anything.
Aldo took a moment to gaze over the battered texture of Hugo’s back, tracing his free hand down the overlapping scars. Hugo bent under the caress, his ass pressing flush against Aldo’s still clothed erection. The Lieutenant gasped at the contact, hips thrusting forward out of instinct.
Aldo swore under his breath and grabbed Hugo’s waist. “Keep still or this knife’s gonna go in the last fuckin’ place you want it.” Hugo was silent but he stopped moving, and Aldo smirked to himself as he began to drag the tip of his knife down the man’s back, not hard enough to break the skin but it left a chalky trail in its wake, turning into a pink line that stopped when it reached Hugo’s ass. He tapped the blade against one cheek. “Spread ‘em.”
Hugo spread his legs without question, almost desperately. Aldo knew he was probably unbearably hard, his usually stoic resolve cracking around the edges.
Aldo re-sheathed his knife before unclasping his belt, letting it fall with a thud to the floor. He removed his own coat and pressed flush against the German, hands braced on the wall. Aldo breathed in the smell of the man’s nape, dirt and sweat and the tang of iron. His right hand slid off the wall to Hugo’s stomach, muscles twitching under his hand as his fingers found the German’s mouth. He didn’t even need to order him - a hot tongue shot out and lapped at his fingertips, Aldo groaning at the sensation as lips encased him. Hugo sucked at his fingers like Aldo imagined he’d suck cock - fast and sloppy with too much teeth, scraping against his skin until Aldo was panting against his neck.
When he was sure there was enough saliva Aldo withdrew his hand, thumb trailing down the crack of Hugo’s ass, teasing the man’s entrance before sliding a finger into him. The German hissed at the intrusion, the slick tightness throbbing around Aldo before he added another digit, scissoring until he could insert a third.
He fucked Hugo with his fingers, thrusting in and out until the German was grinding back into him, splayed hands turning to fists on the wall.
“Fick mich schon.” Gritted Hugo through clenched teeth, and Aldo punished him by thrusting particularly hard, aiming for the hot spot deep inside him. “Speak up, yer mumblin’.”
The German groaned. “Fuck me already!” Aldo immediately withdrew his fingers and made quick work of his trousers, grasping his aching erection in hand. “Now see, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He aligned himself with Hugo’s entrance and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in the tight warmth.
Hugo gasped and spread his legs wider, and Aldo was completely lost. His grip in the man’s hips was bruising as he started to slam into him, Hugo meeting thrust for thrust and breathing ragged as he supported himself against the wall. Aldo bit and licked at his neck, swearing into the reddening skin, words blending together until he didn’t know what was coming out of his mouth.
He saw one of Hugo’s hand leave the wall to jerk himself off, and Aldo growled, snaking a hand around his waist. He gripped the hard warmth of Hugo’s cock, pumping him with the thrusts as best he could until Hugo was coming hot and hard, semen spilling over Aldo’s hand and coating the wall.
The hot pulsing around Aldo’s cock was enough to send him over the edge as well, crying out as he came deep inside Hugo.
They stayed put for a few moments, catching their breath. Eventually Aldo pulled away, was about to yank up his pants and clean up when Hugo turned back around, hand shooting out to grab Aldo by the back of the neck. He was pulled in for a bruising kiss, rough but languid, and Aldo never would have expected something like it from Hugo Stiglitz.
When they parted for breath Aldo narrowed his eyes. “Goddammit Hugo - you keep that up and we‘ll never fuckin’ leave this room.” The German grinned, his hand sliding from Aldo’s neck.
The next few minutes were spent in silence, each man cleaning up in the wash basin and adjusting their clothes. Aldo knew that they probably alerted the whole goddamn village to their activities, and it sent a strange rush of pride through him that he could wring that much noise from Hugo. Aldo bet that not even those Nazi cocksuckers were able to get that much of a rise out of ole’ Stiglitz, torture and all.
When they were decent enough, a knock came at the door, as if on cue. Aldo chuckled under his breath. “Yeah Wicki?”
“Can I come in sir?”
“Of course son. No one in here but us.” Hugo snorted from the corner as he lit a cigarette.
Wicki opened the door, eyes wide and wary like he expected to get jumped as soon as he passed the threshold. “I got some food sir. Whenever you and Hugo are ready.”
“We’ll be out in two shakes.”
When they were left alone Aldo took a moment to sit on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight as he pulled out his snuff.
He was about to take a hit when Hugo walked over and offered him the still burning cigarette. Aldo hadn‘t smoked one in years, much preferring the snuff to the acrid taste of cigarette smoke in his mouth, but something came over him and he plucked it from Hugo‘s fingers. “Much obliged.” He took a drag and could still taste the other man on it, which automatically made it the best fucking cigarette he‘d ever had.
“I’ll save you some food.” Said Hugo, face back to its usual hard-as-stone expression. When he was good and alone Aldo sat on the bed until he finished the cigarette, stubbing it out underfoot when nothing but the filter was left.
German cigarettes and German men. Aldo shook his head. “When in fuckin’ Rome.”