RFP Fanfic Pt. 2
Title: Needs of Men (Part 2)
Words: 4,159
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Waltz/Roth, mentions of previous Waltz/Diehl
Rating: R
Summary: Part two of an attempt at this prompt: "August and Christoph have a one-night-stand, only sex, nothing more. Eli, who has a huge crush on Christoph but doesn't dare to tell him, somehow finds out and is insanely jealous, and bitches at August and maybe even at Christoph. Christoph (who has a crush on Eli and probably thinks Eli is straight) is dense and doesn't understand why Eli is bitching. Eventually Christoph and Eli get together, either because Eli finally tells him, or because August plays matchmaker."
Warnings: Even more male on male lovin', fellatio, anal sex
Disclaimer: I am in no way representing any of the characters in this.
Oh gosh, I never intend for the wait to be so long between the two parts, sorry! But anyways, here it is. Same goes for this one, not beta'd and my German translations are garbage, suggestions loved and welcome.
Needs of Men
Fucking tiny, suffocating hotel room, nothing out of place, everything white washed and sterile. Eli flings his arm across the table, sweeping more than a week’s worth of piled up crap scattering around him. Nothing breaks and that pisses him off more. He picks up his leather script book/journal and whips it across the room, a hail of loose papers marking its path as they rain down. The next to go is his Blackberry. It rockets off the wall, though only the battery cover falls off. “I can’t even fucking break anything?” He shouts, tone of hysteria just starting to creep into his voice, “Stuck in the fucking Twilight Zone!”
First his finds out that his friends are fucking, now he's touched by God and can't destory anything. Eli starts pacing, burning a track into the berber carpet and looking for anything that could double as a punching bag. He flops down on the bed with a frustrated grunt and presses his palms into his eye sockets. It’s inevitable and Eli doesn’t even make an effort to stop it, he lets his thoughts drift to Christoph. He thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, all the times he felt that little spark fly between them. . .
Christoph had nursed a single glass of red wine for the entirety of the night because after all, he did have to shoot in the morning. Eli on the other hand had thrown all common sense to the wind as soon as they had crossed the threshold of a local pub. Eli sampled all of the local beers and spirits. More than once.
They were in usual form walking back to the hotel, once Christoph had managed to drag Eli out of the pub that is, arms looped around each other. Even in a drunken haze Eli kept having to repeat to himself that their close proximity was only for warmth. "You're a Jew from California, everywhere is cold." He thought.
On this particular night the pair were certainly a sight not to be missed. Christoph, the smaller and older of the two was supporting the bulk of his much larger 6 foot and 210ish pound frame of his friend. After the pair got dangerously close to eating concrete, Christoph had shifted his position slightly, moving his hand to Eli’s abdomen for better control.
When Eli recalled the event the next morning he would blame what happened next on the copious amount of alcohol coursing through his veins and addling his judgement. There could be no other explanation.
Even through two layers of clothing Eli could feel the warmth emanating from Christoph’s hand, so close to that sweet spot. The Bostonian’s armor cracked and he was over the edge. He spun Christoph around and shoved him up against the cold brick wall of the closest building. Eli had an iron grip on one of the older man’s wrists, holding it behind Christoph’s own back. Eli’s other hand was holding Christoph’s jaw in an equally firm manner, whereas Christoph was gripping Eli’s shoulder, but not pushing him away.
Eli had his thigh wedged between Christoph’s legs, allowing for their bodies to be as close as possible. Both men moaned when Eli shifted his leg, just by millimetres, Eli could feel Christoph, so fucking hard and solid. He ground into his friend again, revelling in the low, guttural moan that escaped Christoph’s lips.
Eli leaned in; he wanted to taste those wine stained lips, more than anything. They were so close now that a passing stranger wouldn’t have been able to tell that they weren’t kissing. They breathe in each other’s breath and Eli knows how Christoph will taste, like everything he isn’t. That makes that want even worse; he just needs a little taste. . .
And it was over.
Just like that.
The honk from a motorist roaring by hits them like a bolt of lightning and they jump apart. They would never directly talk about or mention the event. Eli had apologized to Christoph for getting so drunk, hoping it would also be taken as an apology for him throwing himself on his friend. Christoph had just smiled and started in on a new topic of discussion, sweeping the whole mess under the rug.
Eli didn’t remember much else from that night, but he could still almost taste Christoph and he sure as fuck couldn’t forget the feeling of that hard weight pressed against his thigh. On many occasions after that night Eli had tugged his cock raw thinking about that hard weight in his hand, his mouth.
Eli jerked awake, cock erect and waiting, knowing what those memories usually meant. “The fuck is wrong me?” He asked the early morning air creeping in the window and surprisingly there was no response, just still silence. Eli pushed a hand his hair as fear churned through his belly at his thoughts, mortified for the thousandth time that this was his friend, his best friend he was thinking this shit about. After washing up and stripping down to his boxers, the young director forced himself back to sleep, unwilling to confront those thoughts that were tiptoeing around the edges of his brain.
When Eli finally did get up, he was greeted with a raging headache and was in a mood that even bashing someone’s head in with a bat couldn’t fix. And he did want to disseminate some skulls, particularly that of a young, tawny haired German. Fucking August.
It only got worse for Eli. He had planned to head to set early with Quentin and avoid everyone in general. When he got down to the café, most of the Basterds were already there, seated in various groupings, but in the same section by the window. Quentin was of course absent; already well into prep for the day’s shoot. Eli scrubbed a hand over his face, feigning tiredness, but in reality was wiping the “I want to kill” expression off before approaching the crew. There was a seat already waiting for him, perfect.
Christoph and Daniel in the seats closest to the window and August is seated on the aisle next to Daniel. Any other morning and it was guaranteed that someone else would have been seated there.
Eli almost managed to turn around claiming not to be hungry, but a perfectly timed bear-sized growl from his stomach put an immediate stop to that plan. With shouts of his uncanny likeness to the animal from his cast mates, Eli sat down next to Christoph, eyes firmly locked on the dented wooden tabletop.
Breakfast went by slowly, excruciatingly painfully and it was mostly due to Eli, at least he could ruin someone else’s morning. He didn’t look at anyone seated at the table, nor did he open his mouth for more than a few seconds to pacify any questions with a stock response. He could feel all three pairs of eyes focused on him, trying to break down the wall. Eli couldn’t think of a more mortifying situation. He was sitting with two friends after a raucous night of sex together and another who likely knew all the details. August and Daniel had no secrets.
Both Christoph and August had been expecting a certain degree of awkwardness when they met up for breakfast, only natural. There was however none to be had, both had realized the function of their rendezvous and that there was nothing else there.
After Christoph had left, August had laughed until his stomach hurt. Just as fast as his desire and lust for his co-star had appeared, it was gone. And here he was, in a hotel room wiping cum off his chest.
Eli nearly snuffed up a piece of the croissant he was working on when his mind did wander into a dark corner and he had started to think about what had gone on between Christoph and August. The string of coughs earned him a hearty slap on the back from Til sitting at the table behind theirs; he also earned a few cocked eyebrows from his tablemates, not the first of the morning.
Eli bolted from the table when he heard the first sign of movement because that meant that someone else was ready to leave. As much as he wanted to leave, he wouldn’t be the last to arrive and first to leave. Melanie and Diane, heading to set early again for more fittings, not that either minded. Eli spun the usual yarn to them about wanting to help Quentin and clamoured into the front passenger seat of their shuttle.
Luckily for Eli, Quentin is in one of his maniac moods and there is no time for socializing before they started filming that morning. The initial sequences for the build to La Louisiane only take the morning to film and Eli happily retires to his trailer, iPod blaring to keep any of those thoughts from creeping too far forward. Though he didn’t doubt that they got the necessary shots, he wasn’t going to leave set, just in case. It was definitely better to be on your director’s good side, especially with Quentin.
Eli doesn’t leave his trailer until he hears the wrap call ring out, when he does finally emerge; the person he wants to see most is strolling up in the trailer alley. Eli can see the arrogant smirk plastered on his face from miles away. Fuck this, he thinks, he doesn’t want to even bother with this petty shit anymore.
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re going to say, you win August,” he says, roughly pushing past the German, practically slamming him into the side of a trailer.
“You’re mad because it wasn’t you,” August sneers at Eli’s back, venom dripping off each word.
“Fuck you,” Eli mutters and continues to walk away, but he hears August laughing and stops.
“No, Christoph already did,” August spits.
The statement lands like a shotgun blast.
Eli explodes.
Before either can realize it, flesh and bone connect with flesh and bone in a sickening crack. The punch to August’s jaw sends him stumbling backwards and he falls to the ground on all fours.
Eli stands over him, hackles raised and breathing heavy. The scene is laughable; Sturmbannführer Dieter Hellstrom on all fours from a barenuckle beat down by the Bear Jew.
Even through all the makeup he can see the telltale hues of a bruise spreading across August’s cheek.
“It didn’t mean anything, I don’t even feel that way about him,” August practically whimpers before he spits blood onto the ground. “I sucked him off.”
Eli stares down at the blood and sadly, he feels better. The primordial urge to rip apart anything that tries to steal your territory just needed a little blood before it could go back to bed. Eli offers his hand to August and helps the young German up. “I’m fucking sorry man, I just. .”
“You just what, Eli?” He thinks, “You just couldn’t handle hearing that someone got fucked by your friend before you?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he says to August. August doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even change facial expressions. Eli wonders if August has something to say or just terrified he’ll end up with a broken jaw.
“Quentin wants you to work on your Italian with Christoph,” he says, “Christoph said to meet in his room tonight, around 9.” August speaks quickly and walks off even quicker.
“Fuck,” Eli says to the German’s ghost.
“Til hat ein kleines übereifrig erhalten, als wir probten, kennen Sie ihn”1 August says with laugh that covers his grimace when his jaws cracks. “Quentin hat mich gewollt, Sie wissen zu lassen, dass er Sie will, Eli mit seinem Italiener zu helfen. Er will wirklich es, sich schrecklich anzuhören, und Boston. Ich habe mit Eli gesprochen und er hat gesagt, dass er an 9 vorbeikommen würde.”2
“Danke,” Christoph says with a melodic laugh, “Quentin nie verpasst irgendetwas.”3
August forces a smile, “Nein macht er nicht. Warten Sie nicht auf mich und Daniel. Ich muss duschen und dann ich muss mein Kostüm zurückkehren.”4
Christoph nods, “Okay, vielen Dank und noch einen schönen Nacht.”5
Christoph was looking forward to seeing Eli, first time since breakfast; it felt odd to spend that much time apart. Hopefully his friend would be feeling better by then. The only time that Christoph knew Eli to be so quiet and unsociable was when he was ill and judging by his behaviour that morning, he was very sick.
Christoph had been off for the day, but the nervous energy flowing through everyone in anticipation of starting the scenes in La Louisiane was intoxicating. Nearly every cast member was on set and most of them had stuck around all day.
Eli pauses, hand hovering centimetres from the door, he doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather flay every bit of flesh off his bones than be alone in the same room as Christoph. The door opens. Christoph had heard Eli’s bare feet and shuffling jeans from the moment he started down the hallway. “Bonjourno! Come stai, Antonio Margheriti?” He grabs Eli by the wrist and gently pulls him in the room before putting a large glass of red wine into Eli’s hand. “Red wine and Italian go very well together,” he says with a grin, “Don’t you think?”
Eli says nothing, he is about to have a coronary or an aneurism, something debilitating. Christoph notices the icy chill from Eli and takes the glass from his hand, setting both back down, “Are you feeling alright Eli?” Christoph touches Eli’s cheek with the back of his hand, though it’s much more affectionate than a simple test of health.
“Fuck you,” Eli shouts suddenly, throwing Christoph’s hand from his face. “Stop fucking around with me, stop doing. . .” He gestures between them, “This.” Eli stares down into his friend’s face, aware that Christoph can see all the hurt and anger spreading across his features. “I get it already, I do, you’re not interested, you don’t have to keep letting me throw myself on you,” Eli’s voice is barely a whisper now. “You didn’t have to fuck August to get the point across.”
Christoph’s brow is furrowed, deep lines of concentration marring his usually youthful appearance. He doesn’t say anything, the minutes stretch on. Eli can’t take it any longer, he feels so exposed, naked under Christoph’s piercing gaze and he can’t wait any longer and turns to leave.
“Eli stop!” Christoph yells, frantically grabbing sat the taller man and forcing him around so they’re face to face again. “I wouldn’t intentionally hurt you Eli, I was unaware that you feel the same way as I do about our situation.”
Christoph doesn’t wait for Eli to respond, or yell or punch him out. He crushes their lips together in a searing kiss. Eli is stunned into submission, he doesn’t push Christoph away. It’s tentative at first, both slightly uneasy but, slowly, they press into each other, lips finding the rhythm.
Unable to control himself, Eli cups the back of Christoph’s head and tugs him up further as to deepen the kiss. There’s a quiet keen, neither can tell who it came from because both of their hearts are pounding. Slowly, after a few minutes, Christoph eases off, finishing with a gentle tug of Eli's bottom lip. They’re both breathing hard, unsure of what to do next, but not willing to stop.
Christoph tastes just like Eli hoped, there are hints of red wine, espresso and something else. Eli can’t figure out what it is but it makes his stomach squirm and a rather enjoyable throb pulse in his groin. “Do you understand now?” Christoph whispers in his friend’s ear. Eli stares into those famed glacial orbs and he understands perfectly.
Christoph felt incredibly stupid for not realizing why Eli had been acting so strangely all day, the clues were right there, had been for months. He figured he hadn’t put them together because he’d been so convinced that Eli would never be interested in another man, let alone someone like himself. That or he was just blinded by the pure lust he felt for the American every time they were near each other.
“Eli, there is nothing more to say about last night, just the needs of men.”
Christoph sees the lines in Eli’s body soften and the vigour and enthusiasm that he has come to adore returns to Eli’s face and eyes. He places his hands on Eli’s broad chest, and moves slowly allowing his hands to explore and map out each of the muscles. He reaches the hem of Eli’s thin cotton tee and quickly pulls it up and off. The shock of cold air makes Eli shiver and he pulls Christoph into him. He unbuttons the older man’s shirt while they share another kiss. It’s different than the first, Eli initiates and dominates. He tongues Christoph’s bottom lip until the older man grants him access. Their tongues push and pull, Christoph breaks first and lets out a moan that goes straight to Eli’s already aching cock.
Christoph pushes Eli backwards, hands on his hips until the backs of Eli’s knees hit the only nice piece of furniture in the room, a Rococo styled chaise lounge. Christoph fingers the waistband of Eli’s denims, revelling in the hitch of breath that escapes from his friend. Eli guides Christoph’s hands, wanting to speed up the process. He’s not wearing anything under the jeans, a bit of an oversight now that his cock is pressed painfully against the confines and metal zipper. Due to the short distance between the two rooms he is also not wearing shoes or socks, which makes the going much faster. Christoph pushes Eli down onto the chair and kneels on the ground in front of him, massaging Eli’s thighs as he does so. Eli tries to keep the blush off his cheeks; he’s also trying not to pass out so he closes his eyes. This has to be a dream, the scene happening in front of him can no way in hell be real. Well . . . maybe in hell.
Eli reopens his eyes and Christoph has swallowed around nearly all of his cock, nose brushing the curly hairs at the base. “OH fuck,” he moans and grips Christoph’s head, rubbing circles in the short hairs on the older man’s nape. Christoph quickly establishes an alternating rhythm of long slow pulls and shorter, teasing sucks and Eli can’t help but thrust up into that hot and pliant mouth
Christoph pulls off but he follows the underside of Eli’s cock with his tongue before licking at his balls and mouthing at his sac. He closed his mouth around one ball and then the other, tongue sliding over the taut flesh before he pulled back with a slick sound. Christoph licked at the crown of Eli's dick, then tongued at the slit, swirling his tongue around. He couldn’t help but grin when Eli’s body jerked and the grip on the back of his head strengthen. He sucks Eli down again, tongue working the underside as he gently scrapes his teeth along the top. Christoph pulls off again, leaving an obscene trail of saliva still connecting them before he stands up.
Christoph stares into Eli’s eyes as he pulls of his linen trousers and boxer briefs, he wants Eli to know that he is the only one, it’s all about them. The older man’s prick springs up and rests against his stomach, leaving a sticky trail. Eli leans forward and licks a strip along Christoph’s cock, following it up to lap up the smeared precome. Christoph pushes Eli back and holds him there before he climbs onto his friend’s lap. If this is going to happen, they’re going to be chest to chest, face to face.
Eli wraps his arms around the older man’s waist and pulls him closer before they share another kiss. Eli feels a nervous electricity shoot through them when their lips touch, both men know that what’s about to happen is dangerous territory for friends. They can stop now and maintain a somewhat normal friendship, or continue and change everything.
Christoph is the first to answer when he grinds his hips down and causes Eli’s cock to ride along the curves of his ass. When Christoph’s rocks his hips a second time, he makes sure his cock rubs along the ridges of Eli’s abdomen. The friction nearly makes them both come.
Eli grips Christoph’s hips, hard enough bruise the supple flesh. He hopes it does. He wants to mark Christoph. He wants everyone to know. He doesn’t want to be friends anymore. Eli positions himself quick, pressing the spit slick head of his cock into the tightness, feeling the channel close around the tip of his flesh like a vice.
Christoph grunts, exhaling forcefully when Eli thrusts in farther, he gets halfway there before Christoph's muscles lock down around him. The elder male is huffing out breath and clawing at Eli’s back. Eli wants to hurt Christoph for fucking around, for hurting him and it takes all of his self control not to thrust fully into that tight heat.
“Relax,” Eli’s breathes into his ear, his back arched in pleasure when Christoph scratches break the skin. “Trust me.” The mix of pain and pleasure send shivers of desire are racking through Eli’s spine, he isn’t going to last long at this rate.
Christoph is trying to breathe through it and slowly his muscles begin to release their grip. Eli pushes himself into Christoph more and then backs off, sliding out almost completely before thrusting in again, deep.
Christoph gasps out, gritting his teeth on a moan, “Eli!”
Eli sees the hot pain flash across Christoph’s face. Angry eyes meet angry eyes. They stay frozen like that for what feels like an eternity, eyes locked, bodies intertwined, Eli sheathed in Christoph. They’re daring each other, trying to see who will break first. “Tell me you don’t want this,” Eli finally hisses. He wants Christoph to tell him to stop, to say this is fucked up and shouldn’t have gone so far. They can go back to being straight. Life can go back to normal and they can go back to being Eli AND Christoph, not EliandChristoph.
Christoph lifts his hips up and Eli moans when he lowers back down again, the going smoother now. Christoph’s relaxing and starting to move his hips up more, meeting him thrust for thrust. Holy fuck, it feels good. Christoph keens loudly Eli’s cock rides over his prostate and he kisses down Eli’s neck, stopping to nibble where neck meets toned shoulder. Eli growls and curls his fingers around Christoph’s neglected dick, each pull in perfect rhythm with their thrusts.
Eli shoves in harder, forcing him higher and further than he's ever been. He's swaying towards the edge, hanging on by a thread. Eli jerks Christoph’s cock faster, faster and he can feel his friend trembling. He knows the flames are biting at every nerve in Christoph’s lithe frame.
Christoph’s body tenses and he bites down on Eli’s shoulder, tearing the skin as he comes. Electricity, sharp barbs shooting into his brain and into his gut. He's tingling everywhere, in every muscle and it’s as if he’s just touched his tongue to a battery. He covers Eli’s hand and abs with pearly spurts as the shockwaves pass through, draining him.
That’s all Eli needs to tumble over the edge. He shouts out in a loud bark, orgasm ripping through his body as he shoots his load deep into Christoph. The blood is thundering in his ears and somewhere in the distance he can hear Christoph’s voice. Low and soothing tones, something in German. Christoph is stroking his back with one hand and the other is gripping his forearm. Eli gasps for air as spasms rack through him again. Fuck, it's lasting forever.
Christoph pulls Eli closer as he comes down from the high so that their chests are pressed together, sticky with sweat and come. Eli pulls out slowly, before Christoph settles beside him on the lounger. Eli leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes and Christoph takes the opportunity to place a small kiss on the younger man’s lips and thumbs at Eli’s jaw line.
“This is fucked up,” Eli says, eyes snapping open and he pushes Christoph away. He scrambles off the chair to collect his clothes strewn around the floor.
1 “Til got a little overeager when we were rehearsing, you know him.”
2 “Quentin wanted me to let you know that he wants you to help Eli with his Italian. He really wants it to sound terrible and Boston. I spoke with Eli and he said he’d come by at 9.”
3 “Quentin doesn’t miss anything”
4 “No, he doesn’t. Don’t wait for me and Daniel, I have to shower and then I’ve got to return my uniform.”
5 “Okay, thank you very and have a good night.”
Words: 4,159
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Waltz/Roth, mentions of previous Waltz/Diehl
Rating: R
Summary: Part two of an attempt at this prompt: "August and Christoph have a one-night-stand, only sex, nothing more. Eli, who has a huge crush on Christoph but doesn't dare to tell him, somehow finds out and is insanely jealous, and bitches at August and maybe even at Christoph. Christoph (who has a crush on Eli and probably thinks Eli is straight) is dense and doesn't understand why Eli is bitching. Eventually Christoph and Eli get together, either because Eli finally tells him, or because August plays matchmaker."
Warnings: Even more male on male lovin', fellatio, anal sex
Disclaimer: I am in no way representing any of the characters in this.
Oh gosh, I never intend for the wait to be so long between the two parts, sorry! But anyways, here it is. Same goes for this one, not beta'd and my German translations are garbage, suggestions loved and welcome.
Needs of Men
Fucking tiny, suffocating hotel room, nothing out of place, everything white washed and sterile. Eli flings his arm across the table, sweeping more than a week’s worth of piled up crap scattering around him. Nothing breaks and that pisses him off more. He picks up his leather script book/journal and whips it across the room, a hail of loose papers marking its path as they rain down. The next to go is his Blackberry. It rockets off the wall, though only the battery cover falls off. “I can’t even fucking break anything?” He shouts, tone of hysteria just starting to creep into his voice, “Stuck in the fucking Twilight Zone!”
First his finds out that his friends are fucking, now he's touched by God and can't destory anything. Eli starts pacing, burning a track into the berber carpet and looking for anything that could double as a punching bag. He flops down on the bed with a frustrated grunt and presses his palms into his eye sockets. It’s inevitable and Eli doesn’t even make an effort to stop it, he lets his thoughts drift to Christoph. He thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, all the times he felt that little spark fly between them. . .
Christoph had nursed a single glass of red wine for the entirety of the night because after all, he did have to shoot in the morning. Eli on the other hand had thrown all common sense to the wind as soon as they had crossed the threshold of a local pub. Eli sampled all of the local beers and spirits. More than once.
They were in usual form walking back to the hotel, once Christoph had managed to drag Eli out of the pub that is, arms looped around each other. Even in a drunken haze Eli kept having to repeat to himself that their close proximity was only for warmth. "You're a Jew from California, everywhere is cold." He thought.
On this particular night the pair were certainly a sight not to be missed. Christoph, the smaller and older of the two was supporting the bulk of his much larger 6 foot and 210ish pound frame of his friend. After the pair got dangerously close to eating concrete, Christoph had shifted his position slightly, moving his hand to Eli’s abdomen for better control.
When Eli recalled the event the next morning he would blame what happened next on the copious amount of alcohol coursing through his veins and addling his judgement. There could be no other explanation.
Even through two layers of clothing Eli could feel the warmth emanating from Christoph’s hand, so close to that sweet spot. The Bostonian’s armor cracked and he was over the edge. He spun Christoph around and shoved him up against the cold brick wall of the closest building. Eli had an iron grip on one of the older man’s wrists, holding it behind Christoph’s own back. Eli’s other hand was holding Christoph’s jaw in an equally firm manner, whereas Christoph was gripping Eli’s shoulder, but not pushing him away.
Eli had his thigh wedged between Christoph’s legs, allowing for their bodies to be as close as possible. Both men moaned when Eli shifted his leg, just by millimetres, Eli could feel Christoph, so fucking hard and solid. He ground into his friend again, revelling in the low, guttural moan that escaped Christoph’s lips.
Eli leaned in; he wanted to taste those wine stained lips, more than anything. They were so close now that a passing stranger wouldn’t have been able to tell that they weren’t kissing. They breathe in each other’s breath and Eli knows how Christoph will taste, like everything he isn’t. That makes that want even worse; he just needs a little taste. . .
And it was over.
Just like that.
The honk from a motorist roaring by hits them like a bolt of lightning and they jump apart. They would never directly talk about or mention the event. Eli had apologized to Christoph for getting so drunk, hoping it would also be taken as an apology for him throwing himself on his friend. Christoph had just smiled and started in on a new topic of discussion, sweeping the whole mess under the rug.
Eli didn’t remember much else from that night, but he could still almost taste Christoph and he sure as fuck couldn’t forget the feeling of that hard weight pressed against his thigh. On many occasions after that night Eli had tugged his cock raw thinking about that hard weight in his hand, his mouth.
Eli jerked awake, cock erect and waiting, knowing what those memories usually meant. “The fuck is wrong me?” He asked the early morning air creeping in the window and surprisingly there was no response, just still silence. Eli pushed a hand his hair as fear churned through his belly at his thoughts, mortified for the thousandth time that this was his friend, his best friend he was thinking this shit about. After washing up and stripping down to his boxers, the young director forced himself back to sleep, unwilling to confront those thoughts that were tiptoeing around the edges of his brain.
When Eli finally did get up, he was greeted with a raging headache and was in a mood that even bashing someone’s head in with a bat couldn’t fix. And he did want to disseminate some skulls, particularly that of a young, tawny haired German. Fucking August.
It only got worse for Eli. He had planned to head to set early with Quentin and avoid everyone in general. When he got down to the café, most of the Basterds were already there, seated in various groupings, but in the same section by the window. Quentin was of course absent; already well into prep for the day’s shoot. Eli scrubbed a hand over his face, feigning tiredness, but in reality was wiping the “I want to kill” expression off before approaching the crew. There was a seat already waiting for him, perfect.
Christoph and Daniel in the seats closest to the window and August is seated on the aisle next to Daniel. Any other morning and it was guaranteed that someone else would have been seated there.
Eli almost managed to turn around claiming not to be hungry, but a perfectly timed bear-sized growl from his stomach put an immediate stop to that plan. With shouts of his uncanny likeness to the animal from his cast mates, Eli sat down next to Christoph, eyes firmly locked on the dented wooden tabletop.
Breakfast went by slowly, excruciatingly painfully and it was mostly due to Eli, at least he could ruin someone else’s morning. He didn’t look at anyone seated at the table, nor did he open his mouth for more than a few seconds to pacify any questions with a stock response. He could feel all three pairs of eyes focused on him, trying to break down the wall. Eli couldn’t think of a more mortifying situation. He was sitting with two friends after a raucous night of sex together and another who likely knew all the details. August and Daniel had no secrets.
Both Christoph and August had been expecting a certain degree of awkwardness when they met up for breakfast, only natural. There was however none to be had, both had realized the function of their rendezvous and that there was nothing else there.
After Christoph had left, August had laughed until his stomach hurt. Just as fast as his desire and lust for his co-star had appeared, it was gone. And here he was, in a hotel room wiping cum off his chest.
Eli nearly snuffed up a piece of the croissant he was working on when his mind did wander into a dark corner and he had started to think about what had gone on between Christoph and August. The string of coughs earned him a hearty slap on the back from Til sitting at the table behind theirs; he also earned a few cocked eyebrows from his tablemates, not the first of the morning.
Eli bolted from the table when he heard the first sign of movement because that meant that someone else was ready to leave. As much as he wanted to leave, he wouldn’t be the last to arrive and first to leave. Melanie and Diane, heading to set early again for more fittings, not that either minded. Eli spun the usual yarn to them about wanting to help Quentin and clamoured into the front passenger seat of their shuttle.
Luckily for Eli, Quentin is in one of his maniac moods and there is no time for socializing before they started filming that morning. The initial sequences for the build to La Louisiane only take the morning to film and Eli happily retires to his trailer, iPod blaring to keep any of those thoughts from creeping too far forward. Though he didn’t doubt that they got the necessary shots, he wasn’t going to leave set, just in case. It was definitely better to be on your director’s good side, especially with Quentin.
Eli doesn’t leave his trailer until he hears the wrap call ring out, when he does finally emerge; the person he wants to see most is strolling up in the trailer alley. Eli can see the arrogant smirk plastered on his face from miles away. Fuck this, he thinks, he doesn’t want to even bother with this petty shit anymore.
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re going to say, you win August,” he says, roughly pushing past the German, practically slamming him into the side of a trailer.
“You’re mad because it wasn’t you,” August sneers at Eli’s back, venom dripping off each word.
“Fuck you,” Eli mutters and continues to walk away, but he hears August laughing and stops.
“No, Christoph already did,” August spits.
The statement lands like a shotgun blast.
Eli explodes.
Before either can realize it, flesh and bone connect with flesh and bone in a sickening crack. The punch to August’s jaw sends him stumbling backwards and he falls to the ground on all fours.
Eli stands over him, hackles raised and breathing heavy. The scene is laughable; Sturmbannführer Dieter Hellstrom on all fours from a barenuckle beat down by the Bear Jew.
Even through all the makeup he can see the telltale hues of a bruise spreading across August’s cheek.
“It didn’t mean anything, I don’t even feel that way about him,” August practically whimpers before he spits blood onto the ground. “I sucked him off.”
Eli stares down at the blood and sadly, he feels better. The primordial urge to rip apart anything that tries to steal your territory just needed a little blood before it could go back to bed. Eli offers his hand to August and helps the young German up. “I’m fucking sorry man, I just. .”
“You just what, Eli?” He thinks, “You just couldn’t handle hearing that someone got fucked by your friend before you?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he says to August. August doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even change facial expressions. Eli wonders if August has something to say or just terrified he’ll end up with a broken jaw.
“Quentin wants you to work on your Italian with Christoph,” he says, “Christoph said to meet in his room tonight, around 9.” August speaks quickly and walks off even quicker.
“Fuck,” Eli says to the German’s ghost.
“Til hat ein kleines übereifrig erhalten, als wir probten, kennen Sie ihn”1 August says with laugh that covers his grimace when his jaws cracks. “Quentin hat mich gewollt, Sie wissen zu lassen, dass er Sie will, Eli mit seinem Italiener zu helfen. Er will wirklich es, sich schrecklich anzuhören, und Boston. Ich habe mit Eli gesprochen und er hat gesagt, dass er an 9 vorbeikommen würde.”2
“Danke,” Christoph says with a melodic laugh, “Quentin nie verpasst irgendetwas.”3
August forces a smile, “Nein macht er nicht. Warten Sie nicht auf mich und Daniel. Ich muss duschen und dann ich muss mein Kostüm zurückkehren.”4
Christoph nods, “Okay, vielen Dank und noch einen schönen Nacht.”5
Christoph was looking forward to seeing Eli, first time since breakfast; it felt odd to spend that much time apart. Hopefully his friend would be feeling better by then. The only time that Christoph knew Eli to be so quiet and unsociable was when he was ill and judging by his behaviour that morning, he was very sick.
Christoph had been off for the day, but the nervous energy flowing through everyone in anticipation of starting the scenes in La Louisiane was intoxicating. Nearly every cast member was on set and most of them had stuck around all day.
Eli pauses, hand hovering centimetres from the door, he doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather flay every bit of flesh off his bones than be alone in the same room as Christoph. The door opens. Christoph had heard Eli’s bare feet and shuffling jeans from the moment he started down the hallway. “Bonjourno! Come stai, Antonio Margheriti?” He grabs Eli by the wrist and gently pulls him in the room before putting a large glass of red wine into Eli’s hand. “Red wine and Italian go very well together,” he says with a grin, “Don’t you think?”
Eli says nothing, he is about to have a coronary or an aneurism, something debilitating. Christoph notices the icy chill from Eli and takes the glass from his hand, setting both back down, “Are you feeling alright Eli?” Christoph touches Eli’s cheek with the back of his hand, though it’s much more affectionate than a simple test of health.
“Fuck you,” Eli shouts suddenly, throwing Christoph’s hand from his face. “Stop fucking around with me, stop doing. . .” He gestures between them, “This.” Eli stares down into his friend’s face, aware that Christoph can see all the hurt and anger spreading across his features. “I get it already, I do, you’re not interested, you don’t have to keep letting me throw myself on you,” Eli’s voice is barely a whisper now. “You didn’t have to fuck August to get the point across.”
Christoph’s brow is furrowed, deep lines of concentration marring his usually youthful appearance. He doesn’t say anything, the minutes stretch on. Eli can’t take it any longer, he feels so exposed, naked under Christoph’s piercing gaze and he can’t wait any longer and turns to leave.
“Eli stop!” Christoph yells, frantically grabbing sat the taller man and forcing him around so they’re face to face again. “I wouldn’t intentionally hurt you Eli, I was unaware that you feel the same way as I do about our situation.”
Christoph doesn’t wait for Eli to respond, or yell or punch him out. He crushes their lips together in a searing kiss. Eli is stunned into submission, he doesn’t push Christoph away. It’s tentative at first, both slightly uneasy but, slowly, they press into each other, lips finding the rhythm.
Unable to control himself, Eli cups the back of Christoph’s head and tugs him up further as to deepen the kiss. There’s a quiet keen, neither can tell who it came from because both of their hearts are pounding. Slowly, after a few minutes, Christoph eases off, finishing with a gentle tug of Eli's bottom lip. They’re both breathing hard, unsure of what to do next, but not willing to stop.
Christoph tastes just like Eli hoped, there are hints of red wine, espresso and something else. Eli can’t figure out what it is but it makes his stomach squirm and a rather enjoyable throb pulse in his groin. “Do you understand now?” Christoph whispers in his friend’s ear. Eli stares into those famed glacial orbs and he understands perfectly.
Christoph felt incredibly stupid for not realizing why Eli had been acting so strangely all day, the clues were right there, had been for months. He figured he hadn’t put them together because he’d been so convinced that Eli would never be interested in another man, let alone someone like himself. That or he was just blinded by the pure lust he felt for the American every time they were near each other.
“Eli, there is nothing more to say about last night, just the needs of men.”
Christoph sees the lines in Eli’s body soften and the vigour and enthusiasm that he has come to adore returns to Eli’s face and eyes. He places his hands on Eli’s broad chest, and moves slowly allowing his hands to explore and map out each of the muscles. He reaches the hem of Eli’s thin cotton tee and quickly pulls it up and off. The shock of cold air makes Eli shiver and he pulls Christoph into him. He unbuttons the older man’s shirt while they share another kiss. It’s different than the first, Eli initiates and dominates. He tongues Christoph’s bottom lip until the older man grants him access. Their tongues push and pull, Christoph breaks first and lets out a moan that goes straight to Eli’s already aching cock.
Christoph pushes Eli backwards, hands on his hips until the backs of Eli’s knees hit the only nice piece of furniture in the room, a Rococo styled chaise lounge. Christoph fingers the waistband of Eli’s denims, revelling in the hitch of breath that escapes from his friend. Eli guides Christoph’s hands, wanting to speed up the process. He’s not wearing anything under the jeans, a bit of an oversight now that his cock is pressed painfully against the confines and metal zipper. Due to the short distance between the two rooms he is also not wearing shoes or socks, which makes the going much faster. Christoph pushes Eli down onto the chair and kneels on the ground in front of him, massaging Eli’s thighs as he does so. Eli tries to keep the blush off his cheeks; he’s also trying not to pass out so he closes his eyes. This has to be a dream, the scene happening in front of him can no way in hell be real. Well . . . maybe in hell.
Eli reopens his eyes and Christoph has swallowed around nearly all of his cock, nose brushing the curly hairs at the base. “OH fuck,” he moans and grips Christoph’s head, rubbing circles in the short hairs on the older man’s nape. Christoph quickly establishes an alternating rhythm of long slow pulls and shorter, teasing sucks and Eli can’t help but thrust up into that hot and pliant mouth
Christoph pulls off but he follows the underside of Eli’s cock with his tongue before licking at his balls and mouthing at his sac. He closed his mouth around one ball and then the other, tongue sliding over the taut flesh before he pulled back with a slick sound. Christoph licked at the crown of Eli's dick, then tongued at the slit, swirling his tongue around. He couldn’t help but grin when Eli’s body jerked and the grip on the back of his head strengthen. He sucks Eli down again, tongue working the underside as he gently scrapes his teeth along the top. Christoph pulls off again, leaving an obscene trail of saliva still connecting them before he stands up.
Christoph stares into Eli’s eyes as he pulls of his linen trousers and boxer briefs, he wants Eli to know that he is the only one, it’s all about them. The older man’s prick springs up and rests against his stomach, leaving a sticky trail. Eli leans forward and licks a strip along Christoph’s cock, following it up to lap up the smeared precome. Christoph pushes Eli back and holds him there before he climbs onto his friend’s lap. If this is going to happen, they’re going to be chest to chest, face to face.
Eli wraps his arms around the older man’s waist and pulls him closer before they share another kiss. Eli feels a nervous electricity shoot through them when their lips touch, both men know that what’s about to happen is dangerous territory for friends. They can stop now and maintain a somewhat normal friendship, or continue and change everything.
Christoph is the first to answer when he grinds his hips down and causes Eli’s cock to ride along the curves of his ass. When Christoph’s rocks his hips a second time, he makes sure his cock rubs along the ridges of Eli’s abdomen. The friction nearly makes them both come.
Eli grips Christoph’s hips, hard enough bruise the supple flesh. He hopes it does. He wants to mark Christoph. He wants everyone to know. He doesn’t want to be friends anymore. Eli positions himself quick, pressing the spit slick head of his cock into the tightness, feeling the channel close around the tip of his flesh like a vice.
Christoph grunts, exhaling forcefully when Eli thrusts in farther, he gets halfway there before Christoph's muscles lock down around him. The elder male is huffing out breath and clawing at Eli’s back. Eli wants to hurt Christoph for fucking around, for hurting him and it takes all of his self control not to thrust fully into that tight heat.
“Relax,” Eli’s breathes into his ear, his back arched in pleasure when Christoph scratches break the skin. “Trust me.” The mix of pain and pleasure send shivers of desire are racking through Eli’s spine, he isn’t going to last long at this rate.
Christoph is trying to breathe through it and slowly his muscles begin to release their grip. Eli pushes himself into Christoph more and then backs off, sliding out almost completely before thrusting in again, deep.
Christoph gasps out, gritting his teeth on a moan, “Eli!”
Eli sees the hot pain flash across Christoph’s face. Angry eyes meet angry eyes. They stay frozen like that for what feels like an eternity, eyes locked, bodies intertwined, Eli sheathed in Christoph. They’re daring each other, trying to see who will break first. “Tell me you don’t want this,” Eli finally hisses. He wants Christoph to tell him to stop, to say this is fucked up and shouldn’t have gone so far. They can go back to being straight. Life can go back to normal and they can go back to being Eli AND Christoph, not EliandChristoph.
Christoph lifts his hips up and Eli moans when he lowers back down again, the going smoother now. Christoph’s relaxing and starting to move his hips up more, meeting him thrust for thrust. Holy fuck, it feels good. Christoph keens loudly Eli’s cock rides over his prostate and he kisses down Eli’s neck, stopping to nibble where neck meets toned shoulder. Eli growls and curls his fingers around Christoph’s neglected dick, each pull in perfect rhythm with their thrusts.
Eli shoves in harder, forcing him higher and further than he's ever been. He's swaying towards the edge, hanging on by a thread. Eli jerks Christoph’s cock faster, faster and he can feel his friend trembling. He knows the flames are biting at every nerve in Christoph’s lithe frame.
Christoph’s body tenses and he bites down on Eli’s shoulder, tearing the skin as he comes. Electricity, sharp barbs shooting into his brain and into his gut. He's tingling everywhere, in every muscle and it’s as if he’s just touched his tongue to a battery. He covers Eli’s hand and abs with pearly spurts as the shockwaves pass through, draining him.
That’s all Eli needs to tumble over the edge. He shouts out in a loud bark, orgasm ripping through his body as he shoots his load deep into Christoph. The blood is thundering in his ears and somewhere in the distance he can hear Christoph’s voice. Low and soothing tones, something in German. Christoph is stroking his back with one hand and the other is gripping his forearm. Eli gasps for air as spasms rack through him again. Fuck, it's lasting forever.
Christoph pulls Eli closer as he comes down from the high so that their chests are pressed together, sticky with sweat and come. Eli pulls out slowly, before Christoph settles beside him on the lounger. Eli leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes and Christoph takes the opportunity to place a small kiss on the younger man’s lips and thumbs at Eli’s jaw line.
“This is fucked up,” Eli says, eyes snapping open and he pushes Christoph away. He scrambles off the chair to collect his clothes strewn around the floor.
1 “Til got a little overeager when we were rehearsing, you know him.”
2 “Quentin wanted me to let you know that he wants you to help Eli with his Italian. He really wants it to sound terrible and Boston. I spoke with Eli and he said he’d come by at 9.”
3 “Quentin doesn’t miss anything”
4 “No, he doesn’t. Don’t wait for me and Daniel, I have to shower and then I’ve got to return my uniform.”
5 “Okay, thank you very and have a good night.”