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linndechirTitle: Friends
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
linndechir
Fandom: Inglourious Basterds RPS
Pairing: August Diehl/Til Schweiger, August Diehl/Daniel Brühl (implied)
Rating: NC-17
Warning: RPS
Words: 3100
Summary: August, Til, cigarettes and massage oil: August helps Til relax after another day spent working on the basement scene.
Author’s note:napalmiris and I exchanged RPS prompts, and she asked for August/Til with implied, angsty August/Daniel. It turned out a lot less angsty than expected, I’m sorry for that. Gratuitous fluff and porn. Inspired by August’s absurdly hot smoking and this picture. Credit to assassin_nariel for the line about balls.
August lit a cigarette as soon as they got outside, taking a greedy drag while Til was still fumbling with his lighter. Til looked utterly tired and exhausted, and August had no doubt that he looked just as bad.
“I’m so glad to be out of that uniform,” Til said and scratched his stubbly skin. August just nodded and smiled - he knew that Til, who had always refused to play a Nazi in his whole career, couldn’t stand wearing an SS-uniform. He had joked that he only managed to look so tense in the basement scene because he couldn’t possibly relax in that uniform.
Til had such a wonderfully relaxed way of smoking, though. August knew that he always sucked on his cigarettes as if he couldn’t smoke them up fast enough, but Til just puffed on them happily, as simply as he’d sip on a glass of wine.
They started walking towards their trailers, both silent while they smoked up. August noticed how Til kept glancing at him from the corners of his eyes, just like he had done for days now, ever since they started rehearsing for the basement scene and Til and August had ended up spending most of their time together. Til didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off August, and not only when he was in character.
Just to test his little theory August licked over his lips before he put the cigarette back in between them, taking a last, savoury drag and blowing the smoke out slowly before he dropped and ground the stub. It didn’t surprise him all that much that Til breathed in sharply and quickly looked away.
August smirked a little to himself. Who would have thought? Heartthrob Til Schweiger, the “German Brad Pitt”, was apparently not as straight as his very public private life might suggest. He reminded himself not to be too excited - he had met enough men who had undressed him with their eyes, stared at him like they wanted nothing more than to fuck him against the next wall, but who had been utterly shocked when August had come on to them. Repression was still surprisingly widespread, even in 21st century Western Europe.
He sighed quietly. A good example of this sad fact was right here on the set, his “old friend” Daniel … August scowled. No use thinking about him now. Not when he might just, maybe, get laid with Til Schweiger. A very tense-looking Til Schweiger.
“It must be pretty uncomfortable, sitting there all the time with that murderous look on your face,” August said pleasantly, just an actor talking to a colleague.
“You have no idea. And I have to be silent while you and Michael go through the same lines again and again, discussing each other’s balls.”
“You try not to laugh while saying ‘this is the sound of my balls pointed at your testicles’,” August snorted, repeating his already famous blooper from the previous day. Til just laughed, but then he lifted a hand to rub his neck. August would have given much to feel these big, strong hands on himself.
“I think my neck has turned into stone,” Til said with a groan. August suddenly smiled - these words were just the invitation he had been waiting for. It was almost too easy.
“I could give you a massage,” he said and rolled his eyes before Til could reply. “And before you make stupid jokes, my mother taught me because she has back problems.”
Til laughed again, although he looked slightly surprised.
“Erm, if you don’t mind, sure, thank you,” he replied, stuttering a bit. August knew that Til was probably wondering what to make of this offer. He didn’t care that it was a very cheap pick-up line, because it always worked. No man turned down a massage after a long, hard day on set, even if they would have preferred the masseur to be a pretty woman rather than a man.
It was a win-win-situation. Even if August’s chosen target turned out to be straight, he’d still get to molest his naked back for a while. And if the man was gay, he would usually be very grateful for the massage and very eager to reward August. It had worked perfectly on Thure, but then again August had already known that Thure was bisexual. It had gone incredibly wrong with Daniel, who had been clearly turned on by August’s hands on his back, and who had panicked as soon as those hands went elsewhere.
Once again August tried to push the thought away, and he was smirking again when they reached his trailer after another minute. Til looked slightly nervous, and August enjoyed seeing that quite a bit. He loved to fluster men who were older than him.
* * *
Five minutes later August didn’t fail to notice that there were millions of women who would envy him right now. He had Til Schweiger on the admittedly uncomfortable bed of his trailer, shirtless, lying on his stomach with his head resting on his arms. At least Til wasn’t self-conscious about being half-undressed - he had taken off his shirt almost as soon as they got into the trailer and had jokingly ordered August to get busy. August had only barely resisted the urge to tell him to use that same commanding voice when they were fucking later.
If, August corrected himself.
“If you wait any longer I’m just going to fall asleep,” Til said suddenly, interrupting August’s brooding and staring.
August quickly got up and rummaged through his bag until he found the massage oil he had been looking for. His mother had given it to him last Christmas … good thing she didn’t know what exactly her son used it for. He sat down on the edge of the bed and poured some oil on his palms, warming it a little before he set to work on Til’s shoulders.
The first touch already elicited a groan from Til, and August wasn’t surprised. His neck and shoulders were just one big knot, and even without any ulterior motives Til could really use a massage. And August enjoyed himself quite a bit - Til’s back was perfect, a sculpture of well-defined muscles under smooth, tanned skin. The whipping scene Quentin wanted to include in the movie was going to make the female audience faint, August was sure of that.
He took his time to make this good, carefully kneading the knots out of Til’s strained muscles, starting from his neck and then slowly working his way down, over the broad shoulders, then along his spine down to the small of his back. Til made delicious little noises, and he relaxed so completely that he didn’t even seem to be aware of them. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. August licked his lips as his hands slid over the oiled skin, fingers spreading. The sight alone was painfully arousing, but the sensation was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the strength of that body if Til just grabbed him, threw him down and pounded him into the mattress.
His hands moved to Til’s sides, but their movement was interrupted when Til suddenly flinched and … giggled. Til looked up with an embarrassed smile, pushing himself up on one elbow. The muscles on his back shifted a little, and August gulped.
“Tickles,” Til stated the obvious. Whatever else he had wanted to say, though, was lost when his eyes met August’s, and Til flushed a little.
“Turn around,” August breathed, and to his relief Til just obeyed. He turned onto his back, still propped up on his elbows, and August’s eyes were drawn to Til’s broad chest, graced by dark, taut nipples. August took a deep breath and leant forward, his hands carefully touching that chest, expecting to be pushed away any moment now. But Til simply lay back and sighed when August started to draw small circles on his chest. The skin was so smooth, too smooth to be natural, and August winced inwardly at the thought of waxing or whatever other method Til had to use to keep it that way.
August’s hands started to tremble when they moved down to Til’s stomach, retracing the lines of his muscles. Only now did he allow himself to let his gaze stray further down, and he bit his lip when he saw the bulge in Til’s tight jeans. But hadn’t it been the same with Daniel, a few years ago on the Love in Thoughts set? Daniel, who had downright flirted with August, who had been shivering under his hands right until August had kissed him and Daniel had jumped up, under long, stuttering affirmations that he was straight. Daniel, who had behaved afterwards as if nothing had happened, who constantly sought his company now, smiling at him, hugging him whenever he could, all under the pretence that they were only good friends.
August startled a little when Til’s right hand suddenly covered his own, pressing it closer to his chest. There was hesitation in Til’s eyes, a shyness that August never would have expected from him. Forcing all thoughts of Daniel aside August gathered his courage and leant forward to kiss Til.
All hesitation was gone in the blink of an eye. Strong hands grabbed August’s shoulders and pulled him down, returning the kiss so passionately that August moaned against Til’s lips. If nothing else Til knew how to kiss, wild and demanding without ever being too rough.
August straddled him, chests pressed together, his fingers grabbing Til’s short, curly hair. He grumbled in protest when he had to let go so Til could get him out of his shirt, but the sensation of smooth skin on his own was worth it. Now that they both knew what they wanted, Til was exactly what August had hoped for - the kind of passionate lover who was considerate, but never left any doubt that he enjoyed every single moment of this. His strong hands stripped August efficiently, trousers, socks and underwear gone so quickly that August felt almost surprised to find himself so soon naked on Til’s lap, his thighs rubbing against Til’s jeans.
Til’s hands seemed to be trying to return the favour of the massage, rubbing August’s back, then his thighs, while his lips only left August’s to bestow kisses and bites on his neck, careful enough not to leave marks - Quentin would kill them if Sturmbannführer Hellstrom showed up with love bites. August didn’t mind letting Til take the lead for the moment, but he couldn’t wait to undress him. He moved aside reluctantly to get Til out of his jeans, and suddenly stopped in surprise, staring at his crotch.
“Pinstripe?” he said incredulously. “You’re wearing pinstripe underwear?”
“Do you mind?“ Til just grinned at him, wiggled completely out of his jeans and sprawled as if he were at an underwear photo shoot. It made August forget how ridiculous pinstripe underwear was; it looked absurdly hot on Til. Seeing that he had made his point Til stripped his underwear off and pulled August back on his lap, both of them moaning when their cocks brushed.
August didn’t know about Til, with his stories about twenty-year-old girlfriends, but it had been much too long for his taste since he had last got laid. He discarded the bottle of oil and rummaged through his bag for a more suitable lubricant, using the opportunity to wipe the oil off his hands and get out a condom as well. He put the sealed edge between his lips, careful not to nick it with his teeth, and quickly slicked his fingers, before he reached back and started to prepare himself. Til’s eyes were wide with lust, and August couldn’t blame him - he knew he would almost come from the sight alone if somebody ever did this to him..
August had to concentrate to keep his eyes open while he was inserting a second finger, his eyes roaming over Til’s broad chest. Til had apparently got over his shock, and he started to caress August’s cock, teasingly at first, then as determinedly as his lips were on August’s throat. Til’s voice was even deeper in bed, growling almost rather than moaning, vibrating in his broad chest.
Til suddenly grabbed his wrist and stopped his preparations, the look in his eyes hungry and impatient. August stopped short and just gave him a cheeky grin, as far as that was possible. Til snatched the condom away from him, ignoring August’s feigned pout, and quickly put it on.
August wouldn’t have minded to stay where he was, but Til seemed to have something else in mind. He grabbed August’s shoulders and flipped them effortlessly, his weight pushing the thinner body against the bed. August whimpered against Til’s mouth when they kissed again, and regretted it the next moment when Til almost stopped, a worried look on his face. As far as August was concerned, Til shouldn’t even be capable of so much consideration right now. He wrapped his arms around him and spread his legs a bit more, moaning happily when Til finally gave up all restraint and took him, with a passion and strength that exceeded even August’s quite vivid imagination.
August’s teeth buried themselves in Til’s bottom lip, biting down sharply while Til kept thrusting into him. August felt tears of pleasure well up in his eyes when Til’s weight bore down on him, and for the first time in weeks he managed to forget Daniel completely.
* * *
Later August was half lying on Til, unconsciously snuggled up against him after Til had just slumped onto his back. They were both sticky, exhausted, and too satisfied to care about it. Til smelt deliciously of sex and sweat, the scent that was one of the many reasons August had come to prefer men to women. His head was resting against Til’s chest, with Til’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close.
August sighed happily and lapped at Til’s chest, smiling about the salty taste on his tongue. Til was still breathing heavily, and whenever he shifted a little August could feel countless muscles moving in his honed body. Normally he might have felt thin and scrawny next to him, but after the enthusiasm with which Til had been trying to touch every inch of August’s body, only an idiot would have been capable of self-deprecation.
Minutes passed in companionable silence, heartbeats and breathing slowly calming down, sated bodies unmoving except for lazy fingers occasionally caressing whatever skin they just found themselves on. August felt like he could easily fall asleep now, but Til suddenly raised his head a little.
He reached over, picked his jacket off the floor and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Without even asking August he simply put two in his mouth, lit them both, then handed one over to August, placing it carefully between eagerly opened lips. August smiled at him while he was taking the first drag. He was relieved that Til wasn’t one of those annoying people who didn’t want him to smoke in bed, and this cigarette had just made a good night perfect.
They smoked in silence, Til’s free hand resting on August’s thigh and caressing him gently, his eyes never leaving August’s face. August pulled off a little show, fingers caressing the cigarette, lips sucking greedily on the filter; quite aware of how much Til enjoyed the view.
“We’ve made quite a mess,” Til stated after they had both stubbed out their cigarettes, and August noticed only now that the sheets underneath them were indeed sticky from the oil on Til’s back, mingled with sweat.
He moved closer against him, half sprawled over Til.
“Don’t care,” August murmured and hid his face against Til’s shoulder. In truth he just didn’t want to talk. It had been so perfect, and he had already started to look forward to sleeping and waking up in Til’s arms; with a bit of luck he would even get morning sex before they’d have to hurry back to the set. But if they talked, Til might just suddenly realise that he had slept with a man and freak out. August didn’t know why, but he always seemed to fall for men who either were straight or wanted to believe they were, and Til wouldn’t have been the first man to snap at him after sex and tell him that “this never happened.” He flinched when Til sat up, the movement forcing August to straighten as well.
“You won’t be weird about this, right?” Til said, trying to capture August’s gaze, but he kept looking away. “Avoid me or shit like that?”
August finally looked up in surprise, and he only found the same old friendly smile, mingled with concern, on Til’s face. If he had suspected how uncomplicated Til was, August would have jumped him the day they met. Instead he just smiled a little and shook his head. He didn’t even want to imagine how Daniel would have behaved afterwards if he had actually slept with August - he probably would have refused to talk to him ever again. But for Til, nothing seemed to have changed - they were still friends, only now they were friends who had slept with each other, nothing more.
Til’s blue eyes gleamed, but he hesitated a bit longer before the next words.
“We could do this again, if you like,” he suggested finally. August stared at him in surprise for a second, then he just threw his arms around Til and pulled him close. He heard a low rumble in Til’s chest, a soft, content laugh, while Til stroked his hair. They settled back on the bed, closely entwined, and Til pulled a blanket over them.
“I don’t think Quentin would approve of Stiglitz and Hellstrom doing each other,” August said after about a minute. He couldn’t help but think that Hellstrom and Zoller would make a lot more sense, but Til’s quick reply didn’t leave him the time to brood.
“I don’t think I’d approve of doing a Nazi,” he grumbled, but he was still grinning. “Ha, that’s probably the true reason Stiglitz is glaring at Hellstrom like that - he wants to jump him.”
August snickered a little and shook his head, although the movement was barely noticeable with his head resting on Til’s chest.
“Sure. Quentin is going to rip your head off if you sound like a horny lech while you’re pointing a gun at my groin.”
“Actually Quentin might just be crazy enough to like it,“ Til laughed, and August joined him.
To their own surprise, they turned out to be right.
Author:
linndechir Fandom: Inglourious Basterds RPS
Pairing: August Diehl/Til Schweiger, August Diehl/Daniel Brühl (implied)
Rating: NC-17
Warning: RPS
Words: 3100
Summary: August, Til, cigarettes and massage oil: August helps Til relax after another day spent working on the basement scene.
Author’s note:
napalmiris and I exchanged RPS prompts, and she asked for August/Til with implied, angsty August/Daniel. It turned out a lot less angsty than expected, I’m sorry for that. Gratuitous fluff and porn. Inspired by August’s absurdly hot smoking and this picture. Credit to assassin_nariel for the line about balls.August lit a cigarette as soon as they got outside, taking a greedy drag while Til was still fumbling with his lighter. Til looked utterly tired and exhausted, and August had no doubt that he looked just as bad.
“I’m so glad to be out of that uniform,” Til said and scratched his stubbly skin. August just nodded and smiled - he knew that Til, who had always refused to play a Nazi in his whole career, couldn’t stand wearing an SS-uniform. He had joked that he only managed to look so tense in the basement scene because he couldn’t possibly relax in that uniform.
Til had such a wonderfully relaxed way of smoking, though. August knew that he always sucked on his cigarettes as if he couldn’t smoke them up fast enough, but Til just puffed on them happily, as simply as he’d sip on a glass of wine.
They started walking towards their trailers, both silent while they smoked up. August noticed how Til kept glancing at him from the corners of his eyes, just like he had done for days now, ever since they started rehearsing for the basement scene and Til and August had ended up spending most of their time together. Til didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off August, and not only when he was in character.
Just to test his little theory August licked over his lips before he put the cigarette back in between them, taking a last, savoury drag and blowing the smoke out slowly before he dropped and ground the stub. It didn’t surprise him all that much that Til breathed in sharply and quickly looked away.
August smirked a little to himself. Who would have thought? Heartthrob Til Schweiger, the “German Brad Pitt”, was apparently not as straight as his very public private life might suggest. He reminded himself not to be too excited - he had met enough men who had undressed him with their eyes, stared at him like they wanted nothing more than to fuck him against the next wall, but who had been utterly shocked when August had come on to them. Repression was still surprisingly widespread, even in 21st century Western Europe.
He sighed quietly. A good example of this sad fact was right here on the set, his “old friend” Daniel … August scowled. No use thinking about him now. Not when he might just, maybe, get laid with Til Schweiger. A very tense-looking Til Schweiger.
“It must be pretty uncomfortable, sitting there all the time with that murderous look on your face,” August said pleasantly, just an actor talking to a colleague.
“You have no idea. And I have to be silent while you and Michael go through the same lines again and again, discussing each other’s balls.”
“You try not to laugh while saying ‘this is the sound of my balls pointed at your testicles’,” August snorted, repeating his already famous blooper from the previous day. Til just laughed, but then he lifted a hand to rub his neck. August would have given much to feel these big, strong hands on himself.
“I think my neck has turned into stone,” Til said with a groan. August suddenly smiled - these words were just the invitation he had been waiting for. It was almost too easy.
“I could give you a massage,” he said and rolled his eyes before Til could reply. “And before you make stupid jokes, my mother taught me because she has back problems.”
Til laughed again, although he looked slightly surprised.
“Erm, if you don’t mind, sure, thank you,” he replied, stuttering a bit. August knew that Til was probably wondering what to make of this offer. He didn’t care that it was a very cheap pick-up line, because it always worked. No man turned down a massage after a long, hard day on set, even if they would have preferred the masseur to be a pretty woman rather than a man.
It was a win-win-situation. Even if August’s chosen target turned out to be straight, he’d still get to molest his naked back for a while. And if the man was gay, he would usually be very grateful for the massage and very eager to reward August. It had worked perfectly on Thure, but then again August had already known that Thure was bisexual. It had gone incredibly wrong with Daniel, who had been clearly turned on by August’s hands on his back, and who had panicked as soon as those hands went elsewhere.
Once again August tried to push the thought away, and he was smirking again when they reached his trailer after another minute. Til looked slightly nervous, and August enjoyed seeing that quite a bit. He loved to fluster men who were older than him.
* * *
Five minutes later August didn’t fail to notice that there were millions of women who would envy him right now. He had Til Schweiger on the admittedly uncomfortable bed of his trailer, shirtless, lying on his stomach with his head resting on his arms. At least Til wasn’t self-conscious about being half-undressed - he had taken off his shirt almost as soon as they got into the trailer and had jokingly ordered August to get busy. August had only barely resisted the urge to tell him to use that same commanding voice when they were fucking later.
If, August corrected himself.
“If you wait any longer I’m just going to fall asleep,” Til said suddenly, interrupting August’s brooding and staring.
August quickly got up and rummaged through his bag until he found the massage oil he had been looking for. His mother had given it to him last Christmas … good thing she didn’t know what exactly her son used it for. He sat down on the edge of the bed and poured some oil on his palms, warming it a little before he set to work on Til’s shoulders.
The first touch already elicited a groan from Til, and August wasn’t surprised. His neck and shoulders were just one big knot, and even without any ulterior motives Til could really use a massage. And August enjoyed himself quite a bit - Til’s back was perfect, a sculpture of well-defined muscles under smooth, tanned skin. The whipping scene Quentin wanted to include in the movie was going to make the female audience faint, August was sure of that.
He took his time to make this good, carefully kneading the knots out of Til’s strained muscles, starting from his neck and then slowly working his way down, over the broad shoulders, then along his spine down to the small of his back. Til made delicious little noises, and he relaxed so completely that he didn’t even seem to be aware of them. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. August licked his lips as his hands slid over the oiled skin, fingers spreading. The sight alone was painfully arousing, but the sensation was almost too much to bear. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the strength of that body if Til just grabbed him, threw him down and pounded him into the mattress.
His hands moved to Til’s sides, but their movement was interrupted when Til suddenly flinched and … giggled. Til looked up with an embarrassed smile, pushing himself up on one elbow. The muscles on his back shifted a little, and August gulped.
“Tickles,” Til stated the obvious. Whatever else he had wanted to say, though, was lost when his eyes met August’s, and Til flushed a little.
“Turn around,” August breathed, and to his relief Til just obeyed. He turned onto his back, still propped up on his elbows, and August’s eyes were drawn to Til’s broad chest, graced by dark, taut nipples. August took a deep breath and leant forward, his hands carefully touching that chest, expecting to be pushed away any moment now. But Til simply lay back and sighed when August started to draw small circles on his chest. The skin was so smooth, too smooth to be natural, and August winced inwardly at the thought of waxing or whatever other method Til had to use to keep it that way.
August’s hands started to tremble when they moved down to Til’s stomach, retracing the lines of his muscles. Only now did he allow himself to let his gaze stray further down, and he bit his lip when he saw the bulge in Til’s tight jeans. But hadn’t it been the same with Daniel, a few years ago on the Love in Thoughts set? Daniel, who had downright flirted with August, who had been shivering under his hands right until August had kissed him and Daniel had jumped up, under long, stuttering affirmations that he was straight. Daniel, who had behaved afterwards as if nothing had happened, who constantly sought his company now, smiling at him, hugging him whenever he could, all under the pretence that they were only good friends.
August startled a little when Til’s right hand suddenly covered his own, pressing it closer to his chest. There was hesitation in Til’s eyes, a shyness that August never would have expected from him. Forcing all thoughts of Daniel aside August gathered his courage and leant forward to kiss Til.
All hesitation was gone in the blink of an eye. Strong hands grabbed August’s shoulders and pulled him down, returning the kiss so passionately that August moaned against Til’s lips. If nothing else Til knew how to kiss, wild and demanding without ever being too rough.
August straddled him, chests pressed together, his fingers grabbing Til’s short, curly hair. He grumbled in protest when he had to let go so Til could get him out of his shirt, but the sensation of smooth skin on his own was worth it. Now that they both knew what they wanted, Til was exactly what August had hoped for - the kind of passionate lover who was considerate, but never left any doubt that he enjoyed every single moment of this. His strong hands stripped August efficiently, trousers, socks and underwear gone so quickly that August felt almost surprised to find himself so soon naked on Til’s lap, his thighs rubbing against Til’s jeans.
Til’s hands seemed to be trying to return the favour of the massage, rubbing August’s back, then his thighs, while his lips only left August’s to bestow kisses and bites on his neck, careful enough not to leave marks - Quentin would kill them if Sturmbannführer Hellstrom showed up with love bites. August didn’t mind letting Til take the lead for the moment, but he couldn’t wait to undress him. He moved aside reluctantly to get Til out of his jeans, and suddenly stopped in surprise, staring at his crotch.
“Pinstripe?” he said incredulously. “You’re wearing pinstripe underwear?”
“Do you mind?“ Til just grinned at him, wiggled completely out of his jeans and sprawled as if he were at an underwear photo shoot. It made August forget how ridiculous pinstripe underwear was; it looked absurdly hot on Til. Seeing that he had made his point Til stripped his underwear off and pulled August back on his lap, both of them moaning when their cocks brushed.
August didn’t know about Til, with his stories about twenty-year-old girlfriends, but it had been much too long for his taste since he had last got laid. He discarded the bottle of oil and rummaged through his bag for a more suitable lubricant, using the opportunity to wipe the oil off his hands and get out a condom as well. He put the sealed edge between his lips, careful not to nick it with his teeth, and quickly slicked his fingers, before he reached back and started to prepare himself. Til’s eyes were wide with lust, and August couldn’t blame him - he knew he would almost come from the sight alone if somebody ever did this to him..
August had to concentrate to keep his eyes open while he was inserting a second finger, his eyes roaming over Til’s broad chest. Til had apparently got over his shock, and he started to caress August’s cock, teasingly at first, then as determinedly as his lips were on August’s throat. Til’s voice was even deeper in bed, growling almost rather than moaning, vibrating in his broad chest.
Til suddenly grabbed his wrist and stopped his preparations, the look in his eyes hungry and impatient. August stopped short and just gave him a cheeky grin, as far as that was possible. Til snatched the condom away from him, ignoring August’s feigned pout, and quickly put it on.
August wouldn’t have minded to stay where he was, but Til seemed to have something else in mind. He grabbed August’s shoulders and flipped them effortlessly, his weight pushing the thinner body against the bed. August whimpered against Til’s mouth when they kissed again, and regretted it the next moment when Til almost stopped, a worried look on his face. As far as August was concerned, Til shouldn’t even be capable of so much consideration right now. He wrapped his arms around him and spread his legs a bit more, moaning happily when Til finally gave up all restraint and took him, with a passion and strength that exceeded even August’s quite vivid imagination.
August’s teeth buried themselves in Til’s bottom lip, biting down sharply while Til kept thrusting into him. August felt tears of pleasure well up in his eyes when Til’s weight bore down on him, and for the first time in weeks he managed to forget Daniel completely.
* * *
Later August was half lying on Til, unconsciously snuggled up against him after Til had just slumped onto his back. They were both sticky, exhausted, and too satisfied to care about it. Til smelt deliciously of sex and sweat, the scent that was one of the many reasons August had come to prefer men to women. His head was resting against Til’s chest, with Til’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close.
August sighed happily and lapped at Til’s chest, smiling about the salty taste on his tongue. Til was still breathing heavily, and whenever he shifted a little August could feel countless muscles moving in his honed body. Normally he might have felt thin and scrawny next to him, but after the enthusiasm with which Til had been trying to touch every inch of August’s body, only an idiot would have been capable of self-deprecation.
Minutes passed in companionable silence, heartbeats and breathing slowly calming down, sated bodies unmoving except for lazy fingers occasionally caressing whatever skin they just found themselves on. August felt like he could easily fall asleep now, but Til suddenly raised his head a little.
He reached over, picked his jacket off the floor and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Without even asking August he simply put two in his mouth, lit them both, then handed one over to August, placing it carefully between eagerly opened lips. August smiled at him while he was taking the first drag. He was relieved that Til wasn’t one of those annoying people who didn’t want him to smoke in bed, and this cigarette had just made a good night perfect.
They smoked in silence, Til’s free hand resting on August’s thigh and caressing him gently, his eyes never leaving August’s face. August pulled off a little show, fingers caressing the cigarette, lips sucking greedily on the filter; quite aware of how much Til enjoyed the view.
“We’ve made quite a mess,” Til stated after they had both stubbed out their cigarettes, and August noticed only now that the sheets underneath them were indeed sticky from the oil on Til’s back, mingled with sweat.
He moved closer against him, half sprawled over Til.
“Don’t care,” August murmured and hid his face against Til’s shoulder. In truth he just didn’t want to talk. It had been so perfect, and he had already started to look forward to sleeping and waking up in Til’s arms; with a bit of luck he would even get morning sex before they’d have to hurry back to the set. But if they talked, Til might just suddenly realise that he had slept with a man and freak out. August didn’t know why, but he always seemed to fall for men who either were straight or wanted to believe they were, and Til wouldn’t have been the first man to snap at him after sex and tell him that “this never happened.” He flinched when Til sat up, the movement forcing August to straighten as well.
“You won’t be weird about this, right?” Til said, trying to capture August’s gaze, but he kept looking away. “Avoid me or shit like that?”
August finally looked up in surprise, and he only found the same old friendly smile, mingled with concern, on Til’s face. If he had suspected how uncomplicated Til was, August would have jumped him the day they met. Instead he just smiled a little and shook his head. He didn’t even want to imagine how Daniel would have behaved afterwards if he had actually slept with August - he probably would have refused to talk to him ever again. But for Til, nothing seemed to have changed - they were still friends, only now they were friends who had slept with each other, nothing more.
Til’s blue eyes gleamed, but he hesitated a bit longer before the next words.
“We could do this again, if you like,” he suggested finally. August stared at him in surprise for a second, then he just threw his arms around Til and pulled him close. He heard a low rumble in Til’s chest, a soft, content laugh, while Til stroked his hair. They settled back on the bed, closely entwined, and Til pulled a blanket over them.
“I don’t think Quentin would approve of Stiglitz and Hellstrom doing each other,” August said after about a minute. He couldn’t help but think that Hellstrom and Zoller would make a lot more sense, but Til’s quick reply didn’t leave him the time to brood.
“I don’t think I’d approve of doing a Nazi,” he grumbled, but he was still grinning. “Ha, that’s probably the true reason Stiglitz is glaring at Hellstrom like that - he wants to jump him.”
August snickered a little and shook his head, although the movement was barely noticeable with his head resting on Til’s chest.
“Sure. Quentin is going to rip your head off if you sound like a horny lech while you’re pointing a gun at my groin.”
“Actually Quentin might just be crazy enough to like it,“ Til laughed, and August joined him.
To their own surprise, they turned out to be right.
