They're QT's, not mine. I'm just borrowing them for fun.

DIVINITY'S CREATURE THAT KISSED IN COLD MIRRORS

This is the man who killed countless times – the man whose exploits this propaganda poison playing now in her cinema is centred around. He faces Shosanna, eyes steel-cold and this is not the charming young man she met in the street. Nor is it the scheming yet saccharine sweet Private who had her arrested and brought before the man who murdered her family, nor even the man who had just seconds ago been looking down and playing at regret. This man is naïve and infatuated and absolutely insane. She sees that now, sees the lunacy in their previous encounters far too clearly – 'Hello there, I have murdered three hundred people and by the way, I find you quite attractive.' He is delusional and he is capable of anything, and he wants her. Zoller has her cornered like an animal next to the projectors, and Shosanna is forcing down the surge of pure carnal terror at the back of her throat.

He kicks the door shut and seizes her by the hips, rubbing the scarlet fabric of her dress between fingers and thumbs. She won't move; won't allow herself to show him that she is afraid, even when his arm snakes around her waist and pulls her against his body, against a fucking Nazi uniform. Shosanna wonders if she's going to vomit all over him when she opens her mouth (to scream for help, to tell him to take his hands off her, to spit in his face?) – but when she does, with no idea which she intends to do, he bends his head to hers and kisses her.

Everything in her body screams at her to bite out Zoller's tongue as it slips past her slack-with-shock lips, and she wants to, but his kiss is far from that of a rapist. He's tender, gentle, fairly trembling with desire and as the warm slick of his tongue slides over hers, he moans as if this is all he's ever wanted.

Catching herself, Shosanna twists away from him, arching her neck away so he can't try it again. That crooked mouth of his quirks into a smile and his hand – the one that isn't hooked around her waist, keeping her still – is sliding around to her backside, up the elegant curve of her back, over her shoulder to trail light fingertips across her exposed cleavage, brushing over her nipples through her dress. She's sick deep in the pit of her stomach and something in her chest is fluttering like a trapped bird. She came prepared and she wants to, has to find a way to put a bullet in him before he can do anything else, but some disturbed part of her – a part she would like to exorcise immediately – is mesmerized by how much he seems to want her, how he's looking at her like she's a beautiful piece of art. She hates herself and shoves hard against his chest to force him to let her go, but his arm stays firmly in place encircling her waist; he stops the skittering of fingertips over her breasts and grips her chin so hard it's sure to bruise.

"Let go of me," she says, intending it to come out fierce, but her voice falters.

The warm look in Zoller's eyes is a repulsive contrast to his harsh grasp on her face and his next words:

"You are so beautiful." He sounds so sincere, and when the next kiss comes she can't twist away without severely injuring herself. Perhaps if she lets it happen. Then everything can go ahead as planned – he'll get what he deserves for what he's inevitably going to do to her. Resistance on her part will only lead to some part of their plan failing and Shosanna cannot allow that to happen. Zoller is still kissing her; sucking slowly on her lower lip as if it's a ripe cherry about to burst, and she can feel him, achingly hard against her thigh. Perhaps if she brings her knee up sharply into his groin she can make her escape. She hardly realises that he's drawing her long skirt up and slipping his hand underneath it until he touches her inner thigh – just barely skimming her skin.

"Oh god, no…" she chokes out against his lips, and he inhales sharply as his fingers find her centre and his hand cups her, the heel of his hand against her clit, his fingers crooked at her entrance. She can't bear to show him weakness or fear, but it is involuntary and perhaps there's the slim chance he'll relent and leave her alone. Still, she'd rather stay cold and hating. "Get your fucking hands off me," she finally manages, the venom in her voice not matching the slow pool of heat beginning in her stomach. Zoller inhales sharply and buries his face in her neck.

She doesn't want this, she doesn't because Zoller is a Nazi and a murderer and she loves Marcel and this has to be some appalling nightmare, and she's fantasizing about shooting him in the head as he presses his fingers inside her and her breath hitches.

"Stop it," she begs, her stomach rolling over unpleasantly, "Please, Fredrick, stop it."

"I can't," he moans into her shoulder, "I can't, I can't. I've never wanted anything so badly in my life." It's somehow worse, this ardour, than if he'd snarled at her to shut up.

"No," Shosanna gasps, her hand flying to grab the short hair at the back of Zoller's head and yank him away and break his arm but oh god, he curls his finger inside her and a mewl of something like pleasure fights it's way out of her throat. It seems to unhinge Zoller even more, if that's possible – up until how he'd been thrusting subtly against her thigh and now he growls, animalistic, and before she can regain her sanity he has pulled her to the floor. One hand still between her legs, he uses the other to pin her wrists to the floor and his knees to force her legs apart, her skirt rucked up around her thighs.

Their eyes collide. Shosanna wants to close hers, to block this out, but can't bring herself to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she tries to stare him down, eyes wide and unblinking as he twists his fingers inside her, grinding his palm against her clit, and unwelcome pleasure sweeps through her body.

"You're wet for me," he whispers reverently, and Shosanna swallows back the bile crawling up her gullet.

"Fuck you," she says, but the sound is all wanting. "Fuck you, get off me."

It's as if he doesn't hear her. He withdraws his fingers from her wet heat and another wave of self-hatred engulfs her at the disappointment she feels. Fumbling with his belt and keeping her hands above her head, he eventually frees his erection and with one sharp thrust, he sheathes himself inside her. Shosanna cries out, an almost inhuman sound of pain and defeat and primal need. Zoller groans ecstatically and stills like he's seeing the face of God for what seems like an eternity before he begins to move.

"No," she wails as he thrusts slow and hard, free hand on her white thigh, driving himself into her over and over. "Please, please no…"

"You wanted it like this," Fredrick hisses through his teeth, voice strained with pleasure, "Have it your way. I could have… made love to you on silk sheets on our wedding night… but you wouldn't… have me… you won't…" He breaks off, cursing, sweat standing out on his forehead, clouded lunatic eyes rolling back into his head, and his thrusts become harder, faster, involuntarily erratic.

Despite herself, despite everything she's ever stood for, Shosanna comes. She comes with a Nazi's cock inside her. She comes, sweet and powerful, but she stays silent and stoic, staring at the ceiling above Zoller's head. There is no way she's going to let him know what he's done.

A few more moments and his grip tightens on her thigh, hitching it around his hip as he spills himself inside her, moaning deeply, his face once again buried in her neck, inhaling the scent of her flesh. She lets him stay there, just for a moment before she violently shoves him away. He goes willingly, dazed and sated, seemingly unable to believe that he's just fucked her, that he's got away with it. He leans back against the wall, eyes closed, a small smile playing around his skewed mouth.

Shosanna straightens her dress and hair, takes a deep breath and retrieves the gun. She presses it to his forehead and pulls the hammer back. His eyes open again, glistening and almost protruding with shock.

And Shosanna serenely blows his brains out.