FIC: Two Basterds and a Brit Walk Out of a Bar... [Inglourious Basterds, NC-17]
Title: Two Basterds and a Brit Walk Out of a Bar...
Character/Pairing: Wilhelm Wicki, Hugo Stiglitz, Archie Hicox; Wicki/Hicox/Stiglitz, Stiglitz/Wicki
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash, AU
Word count: 1000
Summary: It's hard to misinterpret the looks the three share.
Author's Note: For leannelithium. :)
A group of soldiers traipse in as the three disguised as officers trail out. Von Hammersmark is greeted warmly by the men and the three don't wait for her-it's obvious she'll be awhile, and right then, she's not necessary.
Outside the bar, Stiglitz lights a cigarette. The signal.
A flicker of flame from a lighter reflects in an upstairs window across the street. Report back.
They do, and it's a quick conversation between Hicox and Raine with Stiglitz and Wicki hovering near the door before they're dismissed for the night, but warned about going too far with Natzees in town.
Still clad in their uniforms, Hicox, Stiglitz and Wicki move downstairs, where it's less crowded, to find a place to smoke and talk in peace.
Or “talk,” as it may so happen, if the looks between the three of them throughout the discussion with von Hammersmark are any indication.
There's a bedroom downstairs, dark but with a door and a mattress haphazardly shoved inside it, currently unoccupied by a sleeping Basterd, and Stiglitz catches Wicki's eye, smirking. A rare gesture from him, but Wicki's not unfamiliar with it by now. Too many cold nights, too many nights together as the only two German speaking Basterds. Wicki knows that smirk.
Here. Now.
Archie doesn't stand a chance. Wicki has him by the waist, pressed completely against his back, mouth at his neck, as Stiglitz works buttons and belt and zipper. Cold fingers slide against warm skin, under a shirt and inside pants and underwear. Both of Wicki's hands are preoccupied with Archie's chest and nipples as the man gasps and rolls his head back onto his shoulder, eyes closed. Stiglitz has a hand in Archie's pants, stroking him to hardness, while the other snakes around and grasps Wicki's ass, hard enough to elicit a sharp hiss from him.
Archie's moaning quietly now with Stiglitz working him and Wicki sucks at his neck, tongue feeling up his pulse as it jumps. His hands move from under the shirt to clutching Archie's waist, yanking him back to grind against his erection. Archie makes a needy noise that Stiglitz silences with a kiss, his hand leaving Wicki's ass to grip Archie's face.
Then Archie's pants and underwear fall away, bunching at the tops of his boots, and Stiglitz drops to his knees. Wicki presses two fingers to Archie's lips and the Brit takes the hint, brings them into his mouth and wets them, swirling his tongue over the callused pads teasingly. Pulling them back, the fingers drop to Archie's entrance, and slip inside in tandem with Stiglitz taking Archie's erection into his mouth.
“Fuck” is all the Brit manages before Wicki's other hand clamps over his mouth, muffling him as he slowly pumps his fingers inside the man and Stiglitz puts his mouth to more work than it usually gets. He bobs over Archie, lips tight around him, tongue pressed against the underside of his length, and as he wraps a hand around the base, mouth and tongue teasing the head, Wicki crooks his fingers, and Archie groans against his hand, eyes clenched shut and fingers digging into Stiglitz's shoulders.
There's perfect teamwork between them-Wicki's fingers complementing every lick, suck and slide of Stiglitz's mouth, until they're done teasing. Fingers move in time to mouth and Archie thrusts into Stiglitz shortly before coming, teeth biting down hard on Wicki's fingers.
Wicki bites his own lip and lets his hand fall away, limply resting on Archie's waist as he extracts his fingers.
Stiglitz is on him in a second-has him pinned face first on the mattress and his pants and underwear down to his knees so quickly he thinks the button and zipper must have been torn clean off. Slick with spit, Stiglitz thrusts inside Wicki without so much as a warning and he swears in surprise. A hand slips around his mouth and nails bite into his cheeks, while the other hand's fingers dig bruises into his hip.
The mattress dips beside them and Wicki manages to glance up to see Archie, pants hitched back up but still undone, sitting and watching.
They've never had an audience before, but Wicki finds he likes it, and if the way Stiglitz's breath hitches is any indication, the German feels the same way.
At some point, Archie moves and leans over Wicki, kissing Stiglitz again, while his hands roam over Wicki's uniform jacket, fingers pressing just hard enough to tease the fabric against his skin. He shudders under the touch and groans as Stiglitz pounds into him harder, faster, rougher.
When he comes, he cries out into Stiglitz's hand, orgasm washing over him, while Stiglitz continues thrusting. The hand over his mouth moves to his waist to mirror its mate, and Wicki will be bruised and sore the next morning but the sex has always been worth it.
Beside him, Archie's fallen back to the bed, once again content on watching. His eyes flick to Wicki's and Wicki smiles as Archie brings a hand up, traces his finger along Wicki's lips. Wicki tongues it, teasingly, and Archie pulls it back, smirking at him.
Stiglitz comes, then, breathing heavy and panting hard, before he slips from Wicki and collapses onto the mattress beside him, eyes shut tight. Wicki shakily stands and yanks his pants back up while Archie shifts on the mattress, moving so he'll be between the two other men when Wicki drops onto the mattress himself.
He does, moments later, and rolls onto his side, facing Archie, who is on his back, grinning, hands behind his head.
“That was the best talk I've ever had,” he says, looking to both Wicki and Stiglitz before his eyes slide shut and Wicki inches a little closer to curl around Archie. On the Brit's other side, Stiglitz does the same. Between the three of them, they won't be cold that night.
It goes unspoken that they should talk again before Operation Kino leaves them unable to.
Character/Pairing: Wilhelm Wicki, Hugo Stiglitz, Archie Hicox; Wicki/Hicox/Stiglitz, Stiglitz/Wicki
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash, AU
Word count: 1000
Summary: It's hard to misinterpret the looks the three share.
Author's Note: For leannelithium. :)
A group of soldiers traipse in as the three disguised as officers trail out. Von Hammersmark is greeted warmly by the men and the three don't wait for her-it's obvious she'll be awhile, and right then, she's not necessary.
Outside the bar, Stiglitz lights a cigarette. The signal.
A flicker of flame from a lighter reflects in an upstairs window across the street. Report back.
They do, and it's a quick conversation between Hicox and Raine with Stiglitz and Wicki hovering near the door before they're dismissed for the night, but warned about going too far with Natzees in town.
Still clad in their uniforms, Hicox, Stiglitz and Wicki move downstairs, where it's less crowded, to find a place to smoke and talk in peace.
Or “talk,” as it may so happen, if the looks between the three of them throughout the discussion with von Hammersmark are any indication.
There's a bedroom downstairs, dark but with a door and a mattress haphazardly shoved inside it, currently unoccupied by a sleeping Basterd, and Stiglitz catches Wicki's eye, smirking. A rare gesture from him, but Wicki's not unfamiliar with it by now. Too many cold nights, too many nights together as the only two German speaking Basterds. Wicki knows that smirk.
Here. Now.
Archie doesn't stand a chance. Wicki has him by the waist, pressed completely against his back, mouth at his neck, as Stiglitz works buttons and belt and zipper. Cold fingers slide against warm skin, under a shirt and inside pants and underwear. Both of Wicki's hands are preoccupied with Archie's chest and nipples as the man gasps and rolls his head back onto his shoulder, eyes closed. Stiglitz has a hand in Archie's pants, stroking him to hardness, while the other snakes around and grasps Wicki's ass, hard enough to elicit a sharp hiss from him.
Archie's moaning quietly now with Stiglitz working him and Wicki sucks at his neck, tongue feeling up his pulse as it jumps. His hands move from under the shirt to clutching Archie's waist, yanking him back to grind against his erection. Archie makes a needy noise that Stiglitz silences with a kiss, his hand leaving Wicki's ass to grip Archie's face.
Then Archie's pants and underwear fall away, bunching at the tops of his boots, and Stiglitz drops to his knees. Wicki presses two fingers to Archie's lips and the Brit takes the hint, brings them into his mouth and wets them, swirling his tongue over the callused pads teasingly. Pulling them back, the fingers drop to Archie's entrance, and slip inside in tandem with Stiglitz taking Archie's erection into his mouth.
“Fuck” is all the Brit manages before Wicki's other hand clamps over his mouth, muffling him as he slowly pumps his fingers inside the man and Stiglitz puts his mouth to more work than it usually gets. He bobs over Archie, lips tight around him, tongue pressed against the underside of his length, and as he wraps a hand around the base, mouth and tongue teasing the head, Wicki crooks his fingers, and Archie groans against his hand, eyes clenched shut and fingers digging into Stiglitz's shoulders.
There's perfect teamwork between them-Wicki's fingers complementing every lick, suck and slide of Stiglitz's mouth, until they're done teasing. Fingers move in time to mouth and Archie thrusts into Stiglitz shortly before coming, teeth biting down hard on Wicki's fingers.
Wicki bites his own lip and lets his hand fall away, limply resting on Archie's waist as he extracts his fingers.
Stiglitz is on him in a second-has him pinned face first on the mattress and his pants and underwear down to his knees so quickly he thinks the button and zipper must have been torn clean off. Slick with spit, Stiglitz thrusts inside Wicki without so much as a warning and he swears in surprise. A hand slips around his mouth and nails bite into his cheeks, while the other hand's fingers dig bruises into his hip.
The mattress dips beside them and Wicki manages to glance up to see Archie, pants hitched back up but still undone, sitting and watching.
They've never had an audience before, but Wicki finds he likes it, and if the way Stiglitz's breath hitches is any indication, the German feels the same way.
At some point, Archie moves and leans over Wicki, kissing Stiglitz again, while his hands roam over Wicki's uniform jacket, fingers pressing just hard enough to tease the fabric against his skin. He shudders under the touch and groans as Stiglitz pounds into him harder, faster, rougher.
When he comes, he cries out into Stiglitz's hand, orgasm washing over him, while Stiglitz continues thrusting. The hand over his mouth moves to his waist to mirror its mate, and Wicki will be bruised and sore the next morning but the sex has always been worth it.
Beside him, Archie's fallen back to the bed, once again content on watching. His eyes flick to Wicki's and Wicki smiles as Archie brings a hand up, traces his finger along Wicki's lips. Wicki tongues it, teasingly, and Archie pulls it back, smirking at him.
Stiglitz comes, then, breathing heavy and panting hard, before he slips from Wicki and collapses onto the mattress beside him, eyes shut tight. Wicki shakily stands and yanks his pants back up while Archie shifts on the mattress, moving so he'll be between the two other men when Wicki drops onto the mattress himself.
He does, moments later, and rolls onto his side, facing Archie, who is on his back, grinning, hands behind his head.
“That was the best talk I've ever had,” he says, looking to both Wicki and Stiglitz before his eyes slide shut and Wicki inches a little closer to curl around Archie. On the Brit's other side, Stiglitz does the same. Between the three of them, they won't be cold that night.
It goes unspoken that they should talk again before Operation Kino leaves them unable to.