Little Bird – Part III of Stille Nacht, A Landa/Hellstrom Holiday Fanficlet
Slash – Rated NC-17 – Landa/Hellstrom – WARNING: please do NOT read this if you feel you may be offended, outraged or repulsed by explicit descriptions of the male anatomy, and/or explicit descriptions and rhapsodizing over a certain sexual act that happens to be my very favorite. You have been duly warned.
Here it is – the ongoing Christmas Day adventure that is "Stille Nacht," which can no longer be called a ficlet. Does anyone remember that wonderful British gangster film from the eighties, The Long Good Friday? This is The Long Christmas.
A little explanation about the title, lame though it may appear. Zoi no miko pointed out to me that in Landa's references to Dieter as a "little bird", and to Dieter rising open-mouthed, like a baby bird, at the end of the last chapter of this story, I may have subconsciously been referencing the fact that the Yiddish term faygele and the Spanish term aparajito—both meaning "little bird"—are also terms for gay men in their respective cultures. And since I am a little familiar with Spanish and more than a little familiar with Yiddish, I realized immediately that, of course, she was right. And for recognizing this and bringing it to my attention I thank her. I knew there was a reason the term sounded so right in the context of this story. ;-)
And that's why I find reviews so tremendously rewarding. I love it when people catch things that I didn't consciously realize I was doing. Especially since, as I've mentioned before, all my writing simply spews (ejaculates?) forth (albeit sometimes as a trickle more than as a wave.) I don't outline, I don't explore plot ideas or storylines, I don't develop any backstories—it's all just there, in my subconscious, and it feels as though it's always been there, just waiting to come out. So please review me and catch my motives if you can—in whatever way you wish. I love it all.
Again, this is just a story—my intent is not now, nor has it ever been, to offend or show disrespect for or violate the copyright of anyone in this or any of my postings, least of all the characters, the actors who play them or their inimitable creator and sole owner, Quentin Tarantino.
Little Bird – Part III of Stille Nacht
Dieter rose, mouth open and hungry. With one hand Landa reached out and placed his index finger on that slender chin, his thumb on that red upper lip, and pressed the younger man's mouth closed.
"What a hungry little bird you are," he told Dieter, his thumb slowly and sensuously caressing those unusually red lips. "And such a beautiful mouth." He brought the moisture-slick head of his cock to that mouth, and began lightly painting it, leaving sweet, wet trails along those pretty lips.
Dieter's breath quickened, and his lips parted slightly. When Landa drew away from him he followed, leaning forward, his tongue sneaking out, ready to gather the silken, glistening fluid that now coated the tip, poised to sweep up every last drop. But Landa pulled away.
"Ah, ah, ah," he chastised the now trembling younger man. "My little bird is indeed hungry, I know, but I need time to enjoy the sight of you on your knees before me, those lovely red lips quivering, that sweet, pink tongue poised and ready. What a beautiful sight to behold, and look at what it does to me to do just that. I'm starting to drip, my boy."
Dieter's breathing grew more labored, emerging now in short, sharp and shuddering gasps. He looked up at Landa, blue eyes now blazing with an almost feral need, a sight that made Landa himself shudder in an equally powerful answer.
"Oh, my hungry little bird," Landa breathed, his voice thick, his own breath just as labored. He uttered one more word, just one, but that one word was enough to light a fire deep within Dieter:
"Open," Landa said, his voice soft yet full of lust.
Dieter's lips parted, the lower one trembling.. Landa stepped forward slightly and poised over that open mouth. He brought his hand slowly up his stiff shaft, squeezing out two fine, syrupy drops—Dieter's tongue darted out and caught them both.
"That's my boy," whispered Landa, as he continued to slowly stroke himself squeezing out a few more drops, all quickly captured by Dieter's nimble tongue.
That tongue had not even touched him yet, but Landa knew he was dangerously close to completion. He paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and gently squeezed that pressure point which would stave off the urgency, holding the hunger at bay while allowing him to remain fully aroused.
"Now," Landa said, holding himself ready. Dieter leaned forward, mouth open wide once more, barely stifling a trembling moan as Landa's thick shaft slid slowly, surely down his throat, leaving a fine coat of moisture on its way.
It was so wonderfully, so wickedly pleasurable that Landa let loose with a rich, throaty groan, his hips pitching forward slightly until he was fully encased in that slender throat. Dieter began to swallow, and the motion rippled along Landa's aching shaft. The older man was trembling all over now, and he watched closely while Dieter slowly drew back until just the head remained inside that lovely mouth.
"What a pretty sight," Landa breathed, one hand coming down to stroke Dieter's cheek, the other laying claim to a fistful of his hair. "My little bird feasting on me." He gripped Dieter's hair tightly, began to gently thrust between those sweet, red lips. The hand that had almost tenderly caressed Dieter's cheek snaked around to the back of his neck and roughly pulled him in closer as his thrusts grew harder and deeper.
He could lose himself in every sensation, Dieter thought. His mind was in a daze, yet every one of his senses was acutely attuned to that very moment, the taste and smell of Landa, the thick slide of his meaty flesh between Dieter's eager lips, the almost honey-like flavor of the steady stream of fluid that oozed out and coated Dieter's hungry tongue.
Landa's breathing was now heavy and ragged, and every so often he let loose with a softly ecstatic moan of pleasure. Both his hands now gripped Dieter's hair as his thrusts increased in speed and depth. His whole body now trembled with the sheer, unbridled pleasure of every motion of his hips.
Suddenly Landa stopped, abruptly pulled out of Dieter's mouth, and with two fingers, once again pinched the tender head of his cock. He closed his eyes and a mighty shudder ran through him, but he did not come.
"That," he told Dieter with a broad grin, "was what the Americans would refer to as a 'close call'."
He closed his eyes and shuddered once more. "A very close call," he breathed. He opened his eyes and reached out to once again brush his thumb against Dieter's tender, moist lips.
"As delightful as it would be to come deep in that lovely, slender throat—" he stopped abruptly, took a deep breath—"and as you can see, the thought excites me beyond words—I want to savor every moment. This is, after all, my Christmas gift. The greatest gift I have ever received." The smile he gave Dieter at that moment was warm, almost tender.
Then Landa suddenly whirled around, filled with renewed energy, and fell back into an easy chair in one corner of the room, legs outspread, trousers still undone, cock still erect, another broad grin spread across his face. He gazed at Dieter for a moment, watched his prize rise to his feet.
Dieter stood up, gazed evenly at Landa, saw the raw lust grow in his eyes, watched the man's grin grow slack with desire. It was moments like these when Dieter felt immensely powerful, when he knew he could control another man more completely and utterly than he ever could with violence or threats, and that incredible realization always left him slightly dizzy, almost drunk. It was a tremendous, almost overwhelming to feel such power, and Dieter trembled with the pleasure of it.
Eyes locked, for a moment the two men simply gazed at each other, drinking each other in with their eyes, absorbing the sight and smell and sounds of each other. The air was thick with the mixed scent of male arousal and sweat, the sound of heavy intakes of breath, and the distant but ever constant ticking of the grandfather clock.
The clock chimed. It was now two a.m. on Christmas day.
As they stared at each other, unable to pull their eyes away, the shared hunger of the two men grew stronger, shone brightly in their eyes. Dieter slipped a hand into his briefs, grasped himself, tugging gently. Landa did the same, taking hold of his cock and stroking it, slowly drawing his foreskin back and forth over the ruddy head.
"Come here my boy," he told Dieter, the words a command, the voice husky and rich with passion. "My pet, my treasure…"
Dieter slowly walked over, hand still tugging at himself. He stood between Landa's open legs, his knees nearly brushing the older man's arousal. Landa closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the younger man's musky scent. When he opened them once more it was to at last to pull down Dieter's by now by very damp briefs, and to bat the boy's hand away from himself.
Landa grasped Dieter's hips and pulled him closer until the young man's erection bobbed within inches of his mouth. Without warning, his tongue darted out and swept across the slick head, gathering the moisture there.
Again, Landa's intake of breath was heavy and sharp. Suddenly he leaned forward and engulfed that tender head. Dieter gasped with pleasure at the sudden invasion. Landa moved forward, took the boy deep into his throat and held him there, just for a moment, before drawing back slowly, letting Dieter's cock pull from his lips with an audible pop. Then he took the head in his mouth once more and sucked on it, filling his tongue with the sweet fluid that oozed from it. He drew on it for a while, eyes closed, drinking as though from a well, absorbing as much of the young man's arousal as he could, all the while squeezing and caressing those firm, white buttocks.
He grasped Dieter's slim hips more tightly, began to draw him in and out of his mouth, fucking the boy with his face, losing himself in the scent and taste of him, drunk with pleasure and power and passion, until he pulled back once more, let Dieter's cock fall from between his lips and watched it bob damply in the warm air of the bedroom as he struggled to hold back, his breath ragged and rough. Finally he looked up at Dieter and smiled.
"Is that not the most amazing of all sexual acts?" he asked him. "To have a man's cock in your mouth. It is at once the most powerful and the most submissive act in human existence. There is no other experience that is anything quite like it, and I could no more forsake it than I could forsake the intimate taste of a woman, not only because I enjoy them both so much but also because I hunger for them both.
"But right now…" Landa's voice trailed off as he drew his hands slowly up Dieter's waist, "…at this very moment…there is nothing I hunger for more than you."
He leaned forward, kissed Dieter's belly, lighly sucked at his navel, then nibbled his way up that pale, white chest, pausing occasionally to lap up the light pools of sweat that had gathered along a fold of skin here and there. If he hadn't been so hungry for all this beauty for so long he would have licked and kissed every inch of him. But there was always time for that later, after he had satisfied his lust and left his seed deep inside the boy, marking him forever with his presence. The thought of doing so was so powerfully arousing that Landa began to nip and bite as well as to kiss the soft, warm skin beneath his lips.
Dieter trembled and moaned at Landa's every touch. He was aching now, aching to be held close and kissed on the mouth by this man who so masterfully manipulated the very darkest of his desires. He had never wanted to be taken by a man as much as he wanted to be taken—no, not just taken but ravished, devoured—by this elegant, sensual and brilliant Standartenführer.
Landa licked all around Dieter's nipples, soaking the tiny hairs there, pulling them into his mouth, tugging at them with his sharp, white teeth, all the while avoiding the two small nipples, which now stood proudly erect. Suddenly Landa sank his teeth into first one taut brown nipple, then the other. Dieter cried out, grabbed Landa's hair and pulled his face closer—
Landa drew back sharply, eyes dark yet fiery, and shot Dieter a look so contemptuous and cruel that the younger man shuddered in fear.
"Never pull at me like that," he told him fiercely, "never. Don't ever try to bend me to your will."
"Bitte," Dieter begged, falling to his knees. "Bitte…"
"I know what you want," Landa said, his voice icy. "I've always known what you wanted, from the moment I first caught you staring at me when you rather stupidly thought I was completely unaware of those longing looks of yours."
"Bitte," Dieter was sobbing now, and the tears ran down his cheeks again. Landa drew back and scornfully surveyed the trembling, naked creature that slumped before him.
"Somehow that part of you that disgusts me also excites me," Landa told the shivering heap. He grabbed Dieter by the hair and pulled him back to his feet, ignoring the younger man's wince of pain, until the two were face to face, their mouths within inches of each other.
Landa's breath was even more labored now, and Dieter could feel the solid bulk of his erection pressing against him.
Suddenly Landa pulled him into a fierce embrace.
"I do the taking, my boy," he growled thickly, just before pulling Dieter into their first kiss, one so hungry and so violent and so passionate that it nearly overpowered them both…
(TO BE CONTINUED)