She jolted, almost biting off her tongue, as she impacted the cement wall, the hand at her crown doing nothing to absorb and only keeping her head from fracturing. And any last remaining breath that might have been had rushed out as the solid mass of muscle crushed her against it, resulting in an endangerment of both tongues, this time around. Her hat was sliding off and the persistent hand ripping into the capped hair was not helping. The only good the fall against the wall had brought was a momentary respite, enough to pant in a quick breath before his mouth was back to tearing into hers.

It was not an exaggeration. Her face was already terribly sore, but there was an exquisite pleasure in the pain and she let her hands wrap around his neck and dig into the shoulder blades they fell upon. The fierce advances on her mouth pulled at her jaw and ground her head further into the palm and wall, pushing at the hat and loosening everything further, everything; her resolve, her patience, her clothes, her hormones, all battered and drug to hell by the force currently assaulting her. She thought her fingertips were going to snap off as she clutched increasingly harder at him, her own mouth fighting just as fiercely back at his latest actions.

He'd shifted, a leg now on the outside of hers, his knee against the brick in the new angle of his hips, it surely as bruised as her body as they kept pounding against her, driving into her as if they weren't clothed. As if there was nothing between them. Given the location of a dark hollow outside the Fuhrer's mansion, she doubted it would ever come to the divesting of their disguising garments. But spurred on by his thrusts and encouraged by the hand digging into her hip at the reciprocation of her lunges, she would welcome it. Oh, she would welcome it.

A particularly harsh thrust broke the rhythm and they pulled their faces away, the space only enough for her brown eyes, large in the darkness, to look up at him. She could only gasp, aware of how her parted lips held the attention of the half-lidded eyes looking down from above her. The panting set across from her came together, briefly sealed shut by a quick passing of a muscle she was now intimately familiar with to remove excess liquid, the action freeing his eyes to look into hers.

And that's what they did, all they could do, after what had just happened between them, so sudden, so random, so totally out of character for them. It seemed they shared a mutual desperation, mutual fear, then. This had just been the physical realization at the possibility of things going wrong, the desire to eat of the last meal and revel in its taste, should the unthinkable happen. But it wasn't really 'unthinkable' at all. It was just the not wanting to think about it that made it all so frightening…and all so delectable.

The hand removed itself from her tangled hair, disregarding the askew hat and caressing her cheek. His eyes and mouth tightened, the other hand releasing her hip and sliding around her waist. His mouth parted and his face began closing in, halted by callused fingertips against his lips and open eyes.

"You'll have to come back if you want the rest."

The questioning in his eyes dissipated, her own giving a slow blink as she watched him, saw the understanding in them her soft, broken, and raw voice had planted. They'd never really had need for explanations, and she only let her fingers fall away as his did from her body, the meaning to and behind her statement undeniably clear.

He stepped away, two steps but still so great a distance, too great. His head flicked in a sideways nod, ear coming momentarily closer to the shoulder; an acknowledgement, an acceptance of her terms. It was a promise, a date, and he intended to hold her to it. He turned and began walking further towards the back of the house where he was to enter the wine cellar. He stopped, looking over his shoulder as she fixed her hat, re-stuffing the hair underneath it and moving away to play her part in the plan. He waited until she'd rounded the corner of the house before walking down the small set of stairs, letting his hand hesitate on the door knob for a shuddering breath to pass before twisting and going to meet the uncertain and very present future.

Written only to get this pesky scenario out of my mind as it wouldn't leave me alone! Do not expect 'updates' or 'continuances' on this piece. I'm only posting it here because honestly, I haven't updated on here for quite some time. TT I'm stuck on the Royai 100 and so this came up instead.