She puts her chubby hand up to the thick divider, her tiny palm print enveloped by his own – although enveloped is the wrong word; is the word he yearns for since it implies touch, implies one warm beating pulse able to press upon another for even a moment.
They are not allowed such things.
She doesn’t understand that as she bats her fingers against the glass and stares up at him and does her best to not wail or cry because she knows, daddy will be home soon and if she’s been a good girl he’ll give her an extra lap around the garden on his shoulders.
Tag: hermann goering
Göring’s unnaturally huge and meaty cock.
You came through the corridors of
Carinhall as the moonlight struck silver on a cluttered succession of
gilt frames, the last a painting of Andromeda chained to her rock on
the coast (oils describing the thick, twisting body of a sea serpent
rising out of the foam, it’s neck corded, glistening, bent toward
her) and you think this bed may as well be a shoreline; you cannot
move from beneath Göring’s piercing regard, the bulk of him casting
a vast shadow over your naked bodystronger than any sort of chain, the rumours echoing in your mind and leading your breathless, apprehensive gaze to fix on the knot
holding his robe togetherHe unveils himself and apprehension
shifts to panic, awe, a tremble zippering down your spine to the
insides of your thighs as he shifts them apart with ease and rears up
between them – his cock jutting up utterly, unnaturally massive;
that broad, broad head peeking from pink folds of foreskin and
gleaming wetly for you, the shaft bulging even wider below it, so
thick you hear yourself whimper at the thought of what it could do to
you…what it will do to you
as you lie crushed helplessly under his heavy flesh.You
want to be the willing sacrifice and worship him, follow the slide of
his fist up his erection (even his own fingers unable to meet all
the way to the tip), the hot throbbing ridge of the vein along the
underside, your lips parting without thought at the sight of clear
fluid glassing his head – but he would prefer a slow, implacable
impalement of your quivering body, pushing inside you inch after inch
as your thighs grow clammy with a sweat and shake from bearing such
appalling pressure, until you’re at full stretch and the pain is
devouring your from within, eating up until it clamps down on your
throat and you can only silently mouth please over
and over.
biting
Röhm’s favourite
pub is an aggressive punch to Hermann’s senses and perhaps it’s that,
the dark buzz murmuring through the bittersweet air, black tables
sticky with a varnish of stale beer and shoulder jostling against
shoulder, that his nose is attuned at once to the story Ernst is
telling him, while Goebbels is at the bar grinning from ear to ear
and patting the entourage of SA lads surrounding him on the back –(a story that
unwinds as thus: Goebbels ambling up, all pensive frown and
exaggerated concern, informing Röhm very solemnly he has it on good
authority that Röhrbein is a homosexual – a
fact he seems eager to make clear is complete news to him and well
what would he know
about that sort of thing anyway)–
Röhm’s knowing smirk as he watches Goebbels too and Hermann’s
nostrils flare as a dozen scraps of whispered rumour settle into
place and the view of little Joseph beaming there, such obvious
prey amongst a pack of predators, ignites a fire in his belly; easily
sparked from the cocktail of drugs coursing through his system and
months of stoking glances at a dainty neck and elegant wrists.Naturally
Goebbels tries to protest when he corners him in the bathroom,
latching the door behind him (though a significant glance at a good,
loyal boy standing outside is enough to guarantee no disturbances)
but Hermann has no doubt now to what degree the whore has been
spreading his legs and tells Goebbels just as much as he throws him
down on the tiled floor and fights him out of his trousers; pushes
into him, deep, in a single brutal stroke, leans down to use his
mouth on the stretch of neck being offered up to him, thrusting as he
does it, working up to a swift rhythm, fucking him with such bruising
force that Goebbels’ slight body slides a hand’s span on the tiled
floor each time he slams into him.Snapped
buttons from Goebbels’ collar rattle on the floor, Hermann rips his
shirt to the side to bite again, harder, one animal holding another
in place
– Goebbels’ spare sounds of pain echo off the walls but the way his
body arches seems to be making a present of itself and Hermann’s
hunger to press his teeth into his flesh is more immediate even than
the need to keep squeezing his cock into the exquisitely tight clench
of his arse, so he stays there buried to the hilt, savaging him while
Goebbels’ hands clutch at his lapels and he trembles and keens like
something brought down in the forest.
daemon AU
Everyone busies themselves with stirring their coffee and steadfastly avoiding the slightest glance toward the corner of the room where Ursula (Hermann’s dæmon: a plump, sleek-furred raccoon with a magisterial, entitled strut to her pawsteps that more than match Göring
himself) has given one final, determined wriggle of her rear end before pouncing on the fluttering form of Goebbels’ dæmon Aello, clasping the tiny sparrow between her clever, greedy hands.
Someone coughs and tries to draw the conversation onto some boisterous subject that will make it easier for them all to politely ignore how Goebbels’ stream of chatter has clattered to a sudden halt; to pretend that they don’t see the flush of pink painted across his face or notice the smug, lazy smile that’s spread across
Göring’s and certainly they’re all too preoccupied to pick up on the subtle sound of a soft raccoon tongue lapping away at a bundle of paralysed feathers.
No one dares to challenge Göring‘s behaviour in his own kingdom and afterwards, if it is mentioned at all, it will be with a vague air and an appeal to eccentricity and a shared unspoken agreement there was no choked off whimper from the little doctor when Ursula had clambered into Hermann’s lap, allowed him pluck the trembling sparrow from her jaws and enclose it in his heavy fist.
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