Against the ice cold metal of the panzer
size kink (someone is so much taller/larger than someone else)
He doesn’t try to count how many of those monstrous guys surround him and tries his best to pretend the rough peasants hands running over his naked frail body aren’t slowly coaxing an unpleasant reaction out of him, but there’s no way to ignore the huge shadows the Russians cast on him as they’re debating over who gets the privilege of drawing first blood.
They’re not as hurried and bestial as he’d imagined and it’s almost surreal to see those gigantic disgusting mutts of boar and bears, with their cold-wrinkled faces streaked with sweaty mud, discussing secret treaties on their soft Russian tongue, towering over him with something akin to tenderness.
The tallest shoves oiled fingers inside him, strong calloused appendices feeling like splintered wood, and he closes his eyes as if he could make reality disappear by frowning hard enough, like a small afraid child would (and small and afraid he is, terrified even), all that’s left is a pathetic weakling that begs to be destroyed and he finally understands why the Russians seem sweet to him, they want their toy to last.
Holy Communion
Many pre-ancient cultures believed that by consuming a creature you could acquire some of its properties, that by eating the meat of strong game you would become strong yourself and by eating the meat of a maneating wolf you would too become a maneater; rituals grew out of this belief, to pass
might and manhood
also from father to son, millennia of tradition eventually culminating in the bleak act of eating a tasteless wafer and sipping thin wine from a cup held in the hands of a pathetic old man made of crumbling paper and sin. Archaic thoughts like these were spinning in Peiper’s head when he tasted Priess’ cock on his lips and in the back of his throat and when he tasted the salty precum that Priess rubbed on his tongue like a treat, that Peiper received like one too, with a poorly stifled moan which made him feel weak and unworthy of the gifts he had been given. Maybe this time, he thought, if he swallowed it all and didn’t spoil it with the sour taste of his own retching, maybe then he’d become more like Priess and less like a man his father despised.
Holy Communion
“It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t cry, I want you to do this, I do, I’m of no use anymore anyway, no, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” said the officer in the low voice one used to calm a scared pet and he grabbed the kneeling boy’s trembling hands and he pulled him closer so the boy had to bend over like a praying man until the tip of the officer’s bayonet that the boy held with both hands touched the narrow slit of throat between the officer’s jawline and the place where his iron cross rested on black cloth. “This is my body, which is for you; do this in memory of me”, he said and smiled and he raised his body from his resting place to embrace the boy. The blade went through his skin and into his jugular and he still smiled when the boys cut the flesh off his bones and filled their stomachs with his bread and his wine.
“It hurts knowing that I can never see you again”
white as snow, red as blood, black as ebony wood
“I was recently shot down by a Spitfire over France, I cannot afford being caught, I’ll be a disgrace to my fatherland, but even worse, I wouldn’t see my fiancé ever again, I can’t caress her cheeks, which are white as snow, I can’t kiss her lips which are as red as the blood thast’s gushing from my leg wound, I wouldn’t be able to our future in her ebony wood black eyes.
They say that I deserve better because she’s not an Aryan, but she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, no Aryan can compete with her beauty, they wouldn’t even be able to pry me away from her with money and other women, but I hope she won’t mind me resting against this rock though, I’m tired and my leg is aching from the gash, I’ll just lay down here and wait for a little while.
I love you.”
Reichblr Ficathon 