Title: Who Taught You To Torture?

Summary: This a bit of a rewrite of the ending of Inglourious Basterds. Instead of Aldo & Landa striking a deal in their little cafe headquarters, Aldo refuses so Landa has the rest of the Basterds abducted as well. As he attempts to interrogate Donny Donowitz, he bites off more than he can chew.

Author: WaspintheLotus

Rating: NC-17 for graphic violence and slashy sex. Non-con (or dub-con?), choking/breath control, gun play, and bondage.

Pairings: Col. Hans Landa/Aldo (teasing), Col. Hans Landa/Donny Donowitz

Disclaimer: Quentin Tarentino is a genius and I am most certainly not claiming to be a genius, or Q.T. I did not create IB nor do I own any rights to them, I just want to get off.

Aldo sat there and listened to sound of the germans kicking the spit out of Private Utivich. It echoed off the dusty café walls. Across the desk from him, Colonel Hans Landa sat with hands held politely in front of him, a peculiar peaceful look in his eyes.

They were sitting at the desk with a single beam of streetlight illuminating the scene. Lieutenant Aldo Raine had his hands tied behind the chair. The untouched glasses of wine still sat there, one in front of Aldo and one where Utivich had been sitting, before that is Landa had told his henchmen to take him out back and break café stools across his skull. The air in the café was thick—the two faces shining from the dim glow. As for the rest of the building—it was empty. Empty except for Utivich's cries.

As they listened Landa leaned forward gingerly. His brows were lifted with a warm inquisitiveness, the corners of his mouth curling at the recognition of his own superiority.

"It's really very simple," Hans purred, tapping his gloved fingertips over a stack of overflowing files. To him the Basterds were cases, numbers, swastika-marked victims and hundreds of missing scalps. They were also fascinating. The detective in Landa could not resist a bit of tasteful coercion. "I have no intention of wasting your time further, Aldo. A little cooperation on your part will end the war tonight, uncuff those wrists of yours and set your little lapdog and yourself free from the clutches of the S.S, back to your home country where you can drink all the whiskey and fuck all the women you want. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Aldo watched Hans Landa blink incredulously. The silence was punctuated by the sound of chairs breaking. Aldo knew Utivich could take it, or at least Utivich better take it or he'd end up dead first. So Aldo bent forward, sticking out his chin. "Howsabout you go fuck yerself first?"

Landa's expression remained unchanged, as he casually slid open a drawer and slipped his gloved hand inside. He removed a Kongsberg Colt .45, the metal shimmered. Placing the gun gingerly on the desk, the Colonel repeated his offer.

"You Americans are very stubborn. Surely you have put two and two together—is that how the saying goes—that the other pieces to your precious horde—being Mister Ulmer and Mister Donowitz, if I'm not mistaken—are still sitting in their seats, ready to explode."

"Says you," Aldo sucked his bottom lip, shrugging. "'N last time I thought about it, believing the words comin' outta a gnat-see's mouth… well that's just plain stupid."

Landa rose slowly, sliding his fingers around the Kongsberg silkily. It was suddenly quiet—the brutes must've stopped beating Utivich's head in. Either that or he was dead. Landa ran his index across the barrel of the gun, then slipped it against the trigger. He walked slowly towards Aldo, his bootheels clicking on the cold tiles.

"It would be in your best interest to believe what comes out of my mouth, Lieutenant Aldo," Landa murmered, lifting the gun. "considering the sort of things that could be going into yours."

The barrel of the gun was cold against Lt. Aldo's lips, parched with cold sweat. Landa's hand steadily pressed the gun to the man's teeth. The sleek german lifted his knee, placed his heel firmly on the space between Aldo's legs. He anchored the chair back, pressing the gun firmly.

Aldo's face tightened as the gun pushed against his mouth. A bead of sweat fought its way down his brow. He figured, well shit, this is it, so he pursed his lips against the gun. He sniffed, he could smell the iron and grease.

"Open your mouth," Landa hissed.

The inside of Aldo's throat was dry. He twitched, and Landa forced the chair back further, taking Aldo's feet off the floor.

His lips parted, the barrel tapped against his teeth. He felt it pushed against his tongue. Landa stared at him with a dark wetness in his eyes, hunched over him, leg propping him half out of gravity.

Landa could hear his own heart throbbing. Aldo could too. As Landa held the man there, suspended somewhere between life and death, with that sleek black shiny metal thrust into his mouth, he felt his cock stiffen.

"I could push this gun all the way down that throat of yours and pull the trigger," Landa whispered, lips close enough to Aldo's ear to send shivers down his back. The pressure of Landa's boot between his legs made him maddeningly anxious.

After a heavy moment, Aldo's voice broke incoherently around the instrument of death. "Ah.. fah… fah oah."

Landa stood there for a while before he realized Aldo was trying to make a deal. He slid the barrel out of the man's mouth and dropped his foot. The chair slammed forward on its legs, Aldo's head wagging as he spat, hair a mess.

Landa glanced at the saliva coating the barrel, turning the gun in the light.

"Not until I get Donny and Omar." Aldo said.

Landa glanced at Aldo, who sat there with his shoulders hunched up high, undone bowtie laid across his chest. His forehead gleamed, cheeks pink. "Have we had a change of heart, Aldo?" Landa chuckled. "Not so intent on killing off the Third Reich after all?"

Aldo winced. "Bring in Utivich too."

Landa's eyes raised, he placed a gloved fingertip to his chin. "Ah, that's right… Utivich indeed."

And right there's about the time that the Basterds were really fucked, because Lt. Aldo had a pang of consciousness rattling through his head right about when that Kongsberg shoved its way down his throat. Kino was more than shot, but at least Aldo was alive and there was maybe a chance that the other Basterds would get out in the same condition. Unlikely though.

When they brought Utivich back in he was bleeding pretty bad. They put him back in his chair and he couldn't even sit up straight. Landa put his feet up on the desk and surveyed them.

"That settles it, boys," He grinned widely, sharp teeth sparkling in the lamplight. His hands reached out to graze the rack of medals that decorated his chest. "You're mine."

When the nazis brought in Donny he was spitting and cursing like a sailor from hell. In his tuxedo and white gloves, hair mashed with oil, he felt like an imposter, powerless and enraged. If only he had his slugger. He felt limbless without it.

He and Omar got pushed to the back of the café. He saw Aldo and Utivich. Utivich bloodied up and half-dead. Aldo sat there with a look of complete resignation in his Tennessee blue eyes.

Landa looked Donny over. "Ah, the Bear Jew. What a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Yeah, go fuck yerself, asshole!" Donny shot out. His outburst was met with a firm smack in the back of the head from a Nazi Rifle.

"What fun!" Landa tittered, narrowing his eyes. He hollered something in German. The henchmen took Donny down to the floor, while he hissed and bit at the air and kicked. They put a knee in his back.

Colonel Landa rose, and as he walked along he kicked over the chair that held the defeated body of Smithy Utivich. The boy crashed to the floor. Aldo screamed out something like "you gnatzi fucker!" and rattled in his binds. The whole café erupted into screams, most of which were Donny's, because he kept saying "I'll fucking kill all of you you jew-killing shitbags fuck you fuck you fuck you sons ah bitches all of ya".

Landa crouched down.

"You know that I am going to have to torture you, right?" He asked, quietly.

Aldo screamed. Donny screamed. Landa shrugged, winking at his men.

They hit Aldo in the back of the head with a pistol and he was out cold. Utivich moaned pitifully on the floor. Ulmer was dead silent. Donny just cursed some more.

Landa stared at Ulmer, who stared straight ahead like he was in a trance, face pale. "Good boy," he said. "This one knows how to behave."