Call me Hans 9/?
Title: Call Me Hans 9/?
Characters: Landa
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: QT owns everything important. (in the fic, anyway)
Warnings: In this chapter: strangulation, sex
Summary: Somebody's got a fetish. Only, you know, continued.
“Oh yes,” she knew it was partly the booze that was making her so pliant, so honest, but she didn’t care. Not when his lips were doing things like that and his fingers were doing other, more explicit things down below. No, she’d worry about being ashamed after. She’d ask him how he got here later, when the fog of need had evaporated. “Please, Hans.”
“Get on the bed.” He stepped back in order to allow her to do just that and was awarded with an interesting view of her backside as she scrambled from the end of the bed to the head. She wasn’t so drunk he worried her unable to remember anything, but she was still intoxicated enough to have clumsier motor functions. It was almost comical, Julia who was generally so intent on only doing exactly what was most proper. He followed her, he was ready for this little exchange, and rested a knee on the mattress. “Open your legs, Julia.”
She did as he said, sprawled against the pillows like that with her hair spread out and her arms akimbo she was a gorgeous picture. Like a girl in a harem, under the influence of some exotic drug. Though, he smirked as he crawled up the bed and over her body, if she was to be believed, the drug was himself, wasn’t it?
Julia loved the feel of him against her, skin to skin, his lips felt like heaven now without the beard to jab and scratch her. He felt like silk against her as his lips blazed a trail up her torso. She writhed on the bed, threading her fingers through his hair, mussing it beyond repair and not caring. He entered her swiftly, grunting because she wasn’t nearly ready for him. Julia cried out beneath him, it hurt this way, but she wouldn’t tell him to stop. She liked him too much like this. He started thrusting immediately, getting down to the serious business of fucking her. Julia’s fingers closed in the pillows, in the quilt, on his shoulders, she whimpered beneath him, squeezing her eyes shut.
Hans rested his forehead against the curve of her neck, against the bruise. He pressed his scar into that thing he’d left in her skin and grimaced as he got closer to his release. She was responding exactly how he wanted. He loved her like this, completely responsive, totally reactionary. She was a slave to his whim. His fists were clenched in the bedclothes and he lifted himself up from her, leaning on one arm he cupped her jaw with his other hand. “Julia,” he panted, “look at me.”
She opened her eyes, clearly trying to find her pleasure, but it was useless when he wasn’t even paying attention to her down there. She knew full well this time was only about him. And that was what gave her pleasure. She knew she should be ashamed of that. She groaned because she couldn’t help herself.
“Julia,” his hand slid from her jaw to her neck, her slender throat cradled between his finger and his thumb. She swallowed and he felt it in his palm. He grinned and the flash of teeth above her looked more grimace. His face was red from exertion and she knew he was close to his release. “Do you like this?” He put just the barest bit of pressure on her throat.
“Yes,” she undulated beneath him and moaned.
“This?” He leaned harder on her and she gasped, but didn’t cry out. Her eyes rolled and her breath hitched. “Do you trust me, Julia?” He put still more pressure on her throat.
“Yes,” it was a hiss as she lost oxygen. She didn’t fight him, only lifted her chin infinitesimally.
“Good,” he thrust harder into her, putting still more pressure on her neck. Julia bucked beneath him, an involuntary reaction as her body fought to breathe. He pressed harder, thrusting faster. He reached between their bodies with his other hand, all his weight on the hand at her neck now. She groaned beneath him, her face reddening dangerously. His fingers danced against her as he fucked her, the fingers of his other hand tightening on her throat.
Julia was fighting for air. Her lungs were on fire. She knew she should fight him, but she couldn’t. His eyes held her captive. She felt something building inside her, something stronger than she’d ever felt before. Lights danced on the edge of her vision and there was darkness all around him. But that couldn’t be right, it was too bright in the room before and he hadn’t turned out the light. She felt the world falling away as the something inside her barreled forward like a bullet train. It hit her just as everything went dark-
&&&
“Hans!” Julia sat bolt upright in bed. It was still dark out. She hadn’t slept through till the next day. Or maybe she had and it was the next night. She glanced furtively at the black shape of the phone on her nightstand. The handset was harmlessly set in the cradle. He hadn’t called, the phone would have woken her.
She was disturbed because she couldn’t remember everything about the dream. Her body felt tight, waiting, painfully aroused She got up, walking through the apartment to assure herself everything was where it was supposed to be. The gin bottle was still on the counter. She took one last generous gulp and shoved it back in the freezer. This was why she didn’t drink, she always had strange dreams when she drank.
There was no way she’d be able to fall asleep now. Not when she felt like this. Julia shivered as she crawled beneath the quilt, squeezing her thighs tighter. It didn’t help.
She reached for the phone, dialing blindly, knowing it was much too late for conversation and not caring.
“Ja?” His voice was curt, he knew very well who was calling him. He probably already knew why.
“Hans?” Her voice was hoarse, her throat hurt. Julia wrapped her fingers around her throat, flashes from the dream made her cringe. She wondered...
“Yes?” If he’d been sleeping his voice didn’t betray him. He sounded as he always did, fully alert and slightly condescending. “What is it, Julia?”
“Nothing, I just…” she sobbed for no apparent reason, need making her physically hurt, “I needed to hear your voice.”
She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as though he smiled like a cat with an especially fat canary, “I’ve missed you too, my dear. These past few days have been a ridiculous exercise in self control.”
“I’ll be coming back tomorrow,” she shivered again on the bed, winding the phone cord around her index finger as her legs fell open, “if that’s alright,” she rushed.
“Of course my darling girl,” she wondered if he were also in his bed, or if he were still in front of the fire in his library. There was the sound of rustling fabric, “Now, tell me what’s troubling you.”
Characters: Landa
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: QT owns everything important. (in the fic, anyway)
Warnings: In this chapter: strangulation, sex
Summary: Somebody's got a fetish. Only, you know, continued.
“Oh yes,” she knew it was partly the booze that was making her so pliant, so honest, but she didn’t care. Not when his lips were doing things like that and his fingers were doing other, more explicit things down below. No, she’d worry about being ashamed after. She’d ask him how he got here later, when the fog of need had evaporated. “Please, Hans.”
“Get on the bed.” He stepped back in order to allow her to do just that and was awarded with an interesting view of her backside as she scrambled from the end of the bed to the head. She wasn’t so drunk he worried her unable to remember anything, but she was still intoxicated enough to have clumsier motor functions. It was almost comical, Julia who was generally so intent on only doing exactly what was most proper. He followed her, he was ready for this little exchange, and rested a knee on the mattress. “Open your legs, Julia.”
She did as he said, sprawled against the pillows like that with her hair spread out and her arms akimbo she was a gorgeous picture. Like a girl in a harem, under the influence of some exotic drug. Though, he smirked as he crawled up the bed and over her body, if she was to be believed, the drug was himself, wasn’t it?
Julia loved the feel of him against her, skin to skin, his lips felt like heaven now without the beard to jab and scratch her. He felt like silk against her as his lips blazed a trail up her torso. She writhed on the bed, threading her fingers through his hair, mussing it beyond repair and not caring. He entered her swiftly, grunting because she wasn’t nearly ready for him. Julia cried out beneath him, it hurt this way, but she wouldn’t tell him to stop. She liked him too much like this. He started thrusting immediately, getting down to the serious business of fucking her. Julia’s fingers closed in the pillows, in the quilt, on his shoulders, she whimpered beneath him, squeezing her eyes shut.
Hans rested his forehead against the curve of her neck, against the bruise. He pressed his scar into that thing he’d left in her skin and grimaced as he got closer to his release. She was responding exactly how he wanted. He loved her like this, completely responsive, totally reactionary. She was a slave to his whim. His fists were clenched in the bedclothes and he lifted himself up from her, leaning on one arm he cupped her jaw with his other hand. “Julia,” he panted, “look at me.”
She opened her eyes, clearly trying to find her pleasure, but it was useless when he wasn’t even paying attention to her down there. She knew full well this time was only about him. And that was what gave her pleasure. She knew she should be ashamed of that. She groaned because she couldn’t help herself.
“Julia,” his hand slid from her jaw to her neck, her slender throat cradled between his finger and his thumb. She swallowed and he felt it in his palm. He grinned and the flash of teeth above her looked more grimace. His face was red from exertion and she knew he was close to his release. “Do you like this?” He put just the barest bit of pressure on her throat.
“Yes,” she undulated beneath him and moaned.
“This?” He leaned harder on her and she gasped, but didn’t cry out. Her eyes rolled and her breath hitched. “Do you trust me, Julia?” He put still more pressure on her throat.
“Yes,” it was a hiss as she lost oxygen. She didn’t fight him, only lifted her chin infinitesimally.
“Good,” he thrust harder into her, putting still more pressure on her neck. Julia bucked beneath him, an involuntary reaction as her body fought to breathe. He pressed harder, thrusting faster. He reached between their bodies with his other hand, all his weight on the hand at her neck now. She groaned beneath him, her face reddening dangerously. His fingers danced against her as he fucked her, the fingers of his other hand tightening on her throat.
Julia was fighting for air. Her lungs were on fire. She knew she should fight him, but she couldn’t. His eyes held her captive. She felt something building inside her, something stronger than she’d ever felt before. Lights danced on the edge of her vision and there was darkness all around him. But that couldn’t be right, it was too bright in the room before and he hadn’t turned out the light. She felt the world falling away as the something inside her barreled forward like a bullet train. It hit her just as everything went dark-
&&&
“Hans!” Julia sat bolt upright in bed. It was still dark out. She hadn’t slept through till the next day. Or maybe she had and it was the next night. She glanced furtively at the black shape of the phone on her nightstand. The handset was harmlessly set in the cradle. He hadn’t called, the phone would have woken her.
She was disturbed because she couldn’t remember everything about the dream. Her body felt tight, waiting, painfully aroused She got up, walking through the apartment to assure herself everything was where it was supposed to be. The gin bottle was still on the counter. She took one last generous gulp and shoved it back in the freezer. This was why she didn’t drink, she always had strange dreams when she drank.
There was no way she’d be able to fall asleep now. Not when she felt like this. Julia shivered as she crawled beneath the quilt, squeezing her thighs tighter. It didn’t help.
She reached for the phone, dialing blindly, knowing it was much too late for conversation and not caring.
“Ja?” His voice was curt, he knew very well who was calling him. He probably already knew why.
“Hans?” Her voice was hoarse, her throat hurt. Julia wrapped her fingers around her throat, flashes from the dream made her cringe. She wondered...
“Yes?” If he’d been sleeping his voice didn’t betray him. He sounded as he always did, fully alert and slightly condescending. “What is it, Julia?”
“Nothing, I just…” she sobbed for no apparent reason, need making her physically hurt, “I needed to hear your voice.”
She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as though he smiled like a cat with an especially fat canary, “I’ve missed you too, my dear. These past few days have been a ridiculous exercise in self control.”
“I’ll be coming back tomorrow,” she shivered again on the bed, winding the phone cord around her index finger as her legs fell open, “if that’s alright,” she rushed.
“Of course my darling girl,” she wondered if he were also in his bed, or if he were still in front of the fire in his library. There was the sound of rustling fabric, “Now, tell me what’s troubling you.”