TITLE: Get Your Kicks Like This
RATING: I guess NC17.
PAIRING: Donny/Utivich.
WARNINGS: Blood, gore, violence, bad baseball talk (I know nothing about baseball and yet attempted to write about it), fellatio, spanking (the second fic I've written to contain fellatio and spanking, in that order. I'm nothing if not repetitive).
SUMMARY: That makes it twice that Donny and Utivich have had clandestine encounters at night. But another bad day for the Basterds leads to them working a few things out in the daylight. Slash, obviously. Word count: 2798.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing save a head-thwackingly gorgeous cat named Miguel.
NOTE: This story is a direct continuation of Not Like You're Gagging For It, which is a direct continuation of Certain Not To Like.
Any helpful reviews, scathing criticism or rifle butts to the face greatly appreciated. ; )
Sakowitz was dead.
One of the krauts they were in the process of capturing had fought back like a rabid dog, with claws and teeth. He'd got his hands on Sakowitz's knife and rammed it three times into Sakowitz's stomach. It was Utivich who caught him as he fell.
The last thing Sakowitz saw as he died was Wicki holding the krauts arms behind his back, and Donny raising up his bat.
Donny hammered the guy's head into his chest and continued pounding at his twitching torso until there was no remnant of scalp left, or brain or bone. The remaining Basterds were all silent, there was no cheering, no 'I think you got him Don', no sobbing either. Stiglitz and Omar, who were guarding the three other Nazis, didn't even look at Sakowitz's body, they were more focused than ever on their task.
Utivich laid the still corpse on the ground gently, and closed Sakowitz's eyes. He stood up, radiating pure fury in every subtle movement. Aldo said nothing, he didn't have to. They all knew that none of these krauts would be making it back to their headquarters with swastikas carved into their foreheads. It was open season now.
Donny was vaguely aware of Utivich scalping one of the krauts alive as Stiglitz held him in place and laughed coldly. But then he was aware of nothing except his hands gripping tightly on hard wood. He was starting with limbs on this next guy.
Donny felt the amazing burst of exultation he always did when beating a Nazi to death. He wasn't connected to the ground beneath his feet any more; it was as if he hovered above it. There was nothing but hate.
He drank it down and it ran through him, pulsating in his veins. He just knew. This was what he was born to do. Every moment of his life totally aimless until this war, until his hands around Nazi neck and his bat against Nazi skull. This was what he was born to do. In the hail of bullets and blood and screaming he could see why the Germans thought he was a Golem. He was a creature crafted from pure hatred, moments like this he was sure of it… And he fucking loved it.
He came to himself with the pulp of dead flesh clinging to his face and chest, harsh breathing and lumps of matter barely recognisable as corpses laid around him. The others must have kept on putting bodies in front of him. Good ol' Basterds.
Aldo and Wicki were wrapping Sarkowitz in a blanket and talking about what to do with him, the others stood around watching. It was something you got used to, this dwindling of their numbers, but it wasn't something you ever felt comfortable with.
He died the best way a man can die. Covered in Nazi guts.
Sarkowitz wasn't dumb. He'd known he was signing up to die when he joined the Basterds.
That's what we're all here for.
Still, it'd take time to get used to the guy not being around.
Donny emptied a canteen of water over his gore-stained face. He felt woozy. That killing spree had been energetic, even by his standards. He wandered away into the woods, paying no attention to where he was going. The blood rush was clogging him. His limbs were stiff and his brain even slower than usual. He held his bat loosely as he walked, eventually finding a tree trunk he liked the look of and slumping down against it, slowing his breathing and grinning into space.
Minutes passed with his mind gloriously blank. His body was beginning to cool.
Donny didn't realise he'd been waiting for the little man to follow him until he heard the tell tale snapping of twigs nearby. It had to be Utivich. None of the others would've dared to intrude on his post-brain-bashing meltdown.
Adrenaline pumped through him again, his aching muscles waking themselves up in preparation for... whatever was going to happen. It was still days until they'd be bedding down together again, until they'd rut and pant for the third time. Because there was no doubt in Donny's mind now that it had already become a routine for the two of them. It would happen again and again. Until one of them bit it.
In any case it was too long to wait. Donny was ready and primed now. Ready to fucking forget. Or to fuck and forget.
Utivich stopped a few feet away from him, maybe trying to decide if it was safe to approach.
"What the fuck do you want?" Donny said, because he didn't know how else to start it.
Utivich said nothing. But he didn't look scared, or nervous, or in any doubt about what he wanted. He just stared at Donny with those huge eyes, waiting.
"Don't tell me you came out here to cry on my shoulder about Sarkowitz. Or did me smashin' up those krauts get you hot, Ut'ich? Did you come to get me to pummel you into the ground? Want me to give you a smack with this?" He pointed his bat at the walking pair of eyes, shooting his mouth off because it came as naturally to him as breathing.
And again Utivich said nothing, irritatingly calm and patient. Donny's hackles were rising. His blood-lust hadn't completely worn off yet and he didn't think it would take much provocation for him to beat little Utivich to a pulp and enjoy it.
He'd get his kicks one way or another.
"You want me to fuck you Utivich?" Donny asked with a shark's grin, giving over to instinct and lust instead of letting his woolly brain try to amble through the ramifications of what he was saying.
Utivich stared back at him, bright-eyed and clear headed.
"No Sergeant. I want to fuck you. But I'm guessing that's not gonna happen, so I'll take what I can get."
Donny's mouth fell open slightly, and he didn't even notice. At the words I want to fuck you his cock had throbbed painfully to life, and, worse, there'd been a strange twitch somewhere in his innards he didn't remember ever feeling before.
When the power of speech came back to him, he said "You really are a cheeky little cock-sucking Jew aren't ya?", his harsh tone belying the sudden longing in his body.
Utivich shrugged slightly, blue eyes never flinching from Donny's gaze.
The Bear Jew felt as if he'd just sprinted a mile, but he kept his breathing steady. "Come on and suck my cock then, Little Man, if you're such a pushy little Jew." His voice almost cracked over the words.
Utivich's wide mouth curved upwards slightly at one corner. Donny thought, oh fuck, he's really going to do it, and had no chance to come to terms with getting sucked off by a man.
The kid stepped forward and prised the bat out of Donny's grip, tossing it to the ground a few feet away. The kid never could've managed it if Donny's head hadn't been swimming like it was. Still wide eyed and sure, Utivich sank slowly to his knees in front of Donny and stared at his crotch for a few torturous seconds. Donny clasped his hands behind his own back so neither of them could see the slight tremble in them.
Utivich pressed his red, smart, open mouth up against the tented fabric of Donny's trousers, and blew hot, moist air against Donny's stiffening cock.
Donny felt his breathing hitch, audibly, in the stillness of the trees.
"Fucking get on with it, you dirty little prick tease…" Neither of them really needed time to think about this.
"Sergeant." Utivich spoke confidently into Donny's crotch, then nuzzled his prominent nose up against it, smelling him.
"Shit…" Donny gasped. Was he getting old? How could Utivich get him this hot, this fast? He had to hold on this time, put on a good show for the younger guy, or he'd never live it down.
His hips were actually trembling by the time Utivich began to unfasten his trousers, fingertips brushing his cock through his long johns. He would've tried to think unsexy thoughts, but it he knew it would be useless. When Donny got to this stage of arousal, everything was sexy.
One of his hands was clasping at the fine, short hairs at the back of Utivich's neck, almost gently. As Utivich freed his swollen cock from his undergarments and exposed it to the winter air, Donny heard a little whine escape his lips, and he clutched the boy's neck warningly – don't laugh, don't acknowledge it, cocky little fucker.
Donny's prick stood proudly upright and Utivich's fingers tangled in the mass of wiry black hair at the base of it as his red lips sort-of kissed the bulbous tip. Donny jerked spasmodically forward.
He made himself watch, wouldn't let his eyelids drift shut as they wanted to, as Utivich experimentally circled his bell-end with his tongue. Donny's hips thrust forward again. He wanted to tear out his own hair at the sensation of it. Utivich carefully shielded his teeth and sucked about a third of Donny's fat cock into his mouth.
"Holy Mother of fuck!" Donny ground out through his clenched teeth, and Utivich must have tried (and how typically pedantic of him at a time like this) to click his tongue warningly at the level of noise. The extra suction was like… like a fucking plughole or something… shit…
"Mnmnmnnmnnghh…" Donny forced himself to be quieter. He wanted more, and at the same time hardly knew if he could take it. He'd come apart, here in Utivich's mouth, and they'd never find all the pieces.
Painfully slow with inexperience, Utivich worked his lips down Donny's straining shaft, pausing repeatedly as he tried not to gag. It was sooooo not as fast and sure and hard as Donny needed it to be, but fuck it felt so fucking good. Utivich peeled his lips down to the head again, tighter suction now… so motherfucking good… And he said something around the glans of Donny's penis.
It took a ridiculously long time for the words to make sense in Donny's mind, but when they finally did he could hardly believe them and he let out a stunned bark of a laugh. Fucking Utivich, you just couldn't predict the kid.
"Talk baseball to me." Was what he'd said. Donny couldn't help how fondly his hand stroked the nape of the crazy little bastard's neck. Fucking Ut'ich.
At first he wasn't sure his mouth could form words, but the little man seemed to be waiting for him to talk before he continued.
"And Smithson Utivich steps up to home plate… The crowd is going wild about this little guy…"
Utivich plunged his mouth down Donny's cock and suckled, then worked his tongue around the shaft in circles, finding and then paying special attention to Donny's circumcision scar. Donny grit his teeth.
"I don't know why they like this guy so much, he's a kinda funny-lookin', scrawny little thing with goofy-lookin' ears…"
Utivich laughed around his cock and Donny's hips began thrusting in earnest.
"He's got a mouth that any two-bit filthy dick-suckin' whore'd be proud of. I dunno what good the crowd think he's gonna do with those puny arms, surprised he can even lift that slugger…"
Utivich had finally relaxed his wide mouth so he could take Donny's shallow thrusts, and he surprised Donny by letting his teeth graze lightly against his cock. Fuck. That felt fucking great… It hurt, it felt dangerous… Donny now had both hands clasped behind Utivich's head, holding him gently, because he was pretty sure this was the kid's first time sucking cock and even Donny wasn't enough of a bastard to fix him with an iron grip and rape his mouth at a time like this.
"The… The… The kid takes his first pitch… Strikes out! The crowd are disappointed…"
Utivich surged forward without warning, taking Donny as deep as he could, tightening his lips around the base of Donny's cock until he actually made himself gag, and had to slacken off a little.
Donny could feel the huge shit-eating grin on his own face. Yeah, he could fucking hold onto it. Make himself last in Utivich's poor little mouth. Fuck, yeah. He felt like a God.
"The pitcher throws a curve ball… The kid swings like a pro… He hits it out the park! That thing's got a fuckin' motor on it! The crowd's on their feet screaming the kid's… na-me!"
Donny pistoned his hips forward harder, trusting the little man to take it, feeling his balls begin to tighten up as his cock hit the back of Utivich's throat and the little man actually tried to swallow around him, making himself gag again and pulling off a little. Meanwhile the kid's hand was still fumbling his balls, squeezing lightly, and a finger stroked so sweetly just behind his ball sack… Oh god… And then the finger ventured further back as Utivich held Donny's glans firmly between his lips. And then, without warning or lubrication of any kind, it pushed a little way inside of his tightly puckered asshole.
Donny came like the crack of a whip, furious at – and thrilled by – the intrusion. He pumped hot seamen into Utivich's mouth, and as those red lips slipped off him he shot onto Utivich's face, into his hair. Oh fuck, holy fuck. Wave after wave poured out of him until it was agony and he thought he might never stop. His knees buckled and gave way, and he half collapsed onto a breathless, stunned-looking Utivich.
When he regained the power of speech, he said "You filthy little son of a bitch… I never said you could…" And then he trailed off, because he couldn't bring himself to say it.
Utivich was panting desperately. He crawled out from under Donny and sprawled on his back a foot or so away, opening up his pants, freeing his long, curved, achingly hard cock and touching himself.
Donny didn't know where he got the strength, but he flung himself at Utivich and grappled his hands away from his cock.
"What the… Fuck you… Don't… Please!" Utivich growled out, grinding his hips into thin air.
"Don't you dare touch yourself, you dirty little cock-sucking slut."
Not really knowing what drove him, Donny flipped Utivich onto his front and roughly yanked his pants and underwear down over his smooth ass. He had no idea what he'd intended to do, but seeing those firm round buttocks made thoughts he definitely didn't want flicker through his mind. His batting arm seemed to know the ropes, setting itself in that sharp curve again, and spanking Utivich's ass, hard, while his other hand made sure the sly little fucker couldn't touch himself. He landed smack after smack as Utivich bucked and writhed and groaned in the dirt beneath him. God that tight ass felt so good against his palm… He could do this for hours. But it wasn't really that much of a punishment, not judging by the sound of Utivich's breathy whines, or the grinding action of his hips into the soft ground. Maybe it wasn't meant to be a punishment, Donny didn't know. With one last hard, thudding blow, Utivich went tight, spasming against the forest floor, coming into a mulch of dead leaves.
Donny's hand lingered a moment on that warm, red ass. Then he rolled away and began the long process of catching his breath. Utivich had his head buried in his arms, his ass still exposed, lying still. Donny had no idea if he'd be pissed off, or ashamed… You just couldn't predict the crazy little guy. Hell, Donny couldn't even work out if he was really pissed off about Utivich's finger up his ass, or if he was just embarrassed as all hell about how fucking great it had made him feel…
He didn't want to think about that. He knew they wouldn't talk about any of it. He wanted to bask in this moment for just a little longer, then drag Utivich back to the others – once they'd straightened up a bit, of course. He wanted to drain his hip flash and bum some cigarettes off of Wicki and sit round a camp-fire in the heat and light. He wanted to get under his scratchy blanket and huddle against Utivich – because he was the warmest. He wanted to get up tomorrow and brain some Gnatsie fuckers. He wanted not to think.