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King For A Day, part 6/?
Title: King For A Day, part 6/?
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Shosanna/Fredrick, mentions of Hans Landa, Marcel, the Dreyfus family and the Zoller sisters.
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 9,024
Summary: It is their last night at Le Rossignol and realizing that nothing is guaranteed, Shosanna and Fredrick reach new ground in their relationship.
Warnings: A Fredrick/Shosanna-centric section. It took me a while to properly tackle this part, as I do think of it as sensitive subject matter. What takes place in this section, I didn't quite anticipate covering yet, but it came about spontaneously. Considering the events of that day (which took place in part 5), it seems fitting. References to script excerpts which I linked to in part 1 are prevalent throughout this part.
The story so far: | information/cast post | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |
With trembling hands, he took hold of the rifle, and with it, he took aim. There was no finesse, no grace to his actions; only fear.
Fredrick Zoller did not belong in that bell tower; he did not belong in Italy.
Fredrick Zoller belonged back home in Munich with his sisters, tending to mundane chores, tucked away in the projection booth of Das Kino Haus.
From his distance, he held no biases. There was no demarcation line between the Allied men and him (Nazi); they had no discernable features. They were merely there, and he was here.
Fredrick Zoller did not want to die.
Fredrick Zoller did not want to kill.
But they kept on coming; coming at him.
Palms slick with sweat and his chest constricting, Fredrick set his jaw. He thought of home. He thought of his sisters.
And so he gave them the best that he had. He pulled the trigger.
~
Fredrick awoke with a start, his senses alert. Feeling the weight of Shosanna, her body curled into his, her face nestled in his chest and her arm draped across him, Fredrick quickly became aware of his surroundings and relaxed. The room was cooler, dimmer; even with the absence of his wristwatch, Fredrick was able to deduce that it was early evening. Craning his neck, he raised his head to glance over the room; though nothing had changed in the time he was asleep, it helped put his mind at ease. Beside the bed lay the burgundy box. It was half-crushed, its neatly folded contents spilling out onto the floor. Laying his head back, Fredrick smiled.
His only concern was for Shosanna.
Amos.
She had a brother named Amos.
Amos Dreyfus.
He was murdered by Hans Landa.
Shosanna risked everything to burn down Le Gamaar, to kill Landa and all of the others Fredrick associated with; all of those held accountable for her torment.
There was still so much left to be said, still so much that had to be done between them. But here, now, they were granted their bit of mercy, their solace. A comfortable silence permeated the room; within its confines, they were safe.
For now.
His chest tightening, Fredrick wrapped an arm around Shosanna, holding her securely to him. He quietly sighed, watching as she moved with the rise and fall of his chest. Mindful not to wake her, yet not able to resist, he reached his hand up and brushed strands of hair from the side of her face, revealing the crescent-shaped scar above her left cheekbone.
A remnant of her ordeal?
Considerately, he ran his thumb over it, his mind conjuring up violent imaginings to explain its origins; he thought of her frightened and bloodied, hunted like an animal, her family brutally ripped away from her.
Did she look into the eyes of the man responsible?
Though it was all over now, the scars still remained.
Did she run and not look back?
Shosanna stirred slightly from the contact, and he withdrew his hand.
She was absolutely precious to him.
Wanting to sob, Fredrick squeezed his eyes shut.
~
His thundering heartbeat and the blood pounding in his ears were deafening, but they could not blot out the mangled cries rising up to meet him from below. Even if he could not make out their contorted faces and pained expressions, he could still see so clearly their broken, bloodied bodies. One after another, he brought them down, stopping each one in their paths.
He wanted to be sick.
He wanted to weep.
But he could not stop.
~
Fredrick woke once more, finding himself twisted in the bed sheets. Disoriented, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Evening had passed into night; the room was darkened and now softly lit by a combination of both the small oil lamp on the nightstand and the moonlight trickling in through the windows. Crouched on the floor a few feet in front of him was Shosanna, her back to him. Clearing his throat, Fredrick broke the silence.
"Shosanna?"
Turning to face him, he could see at her feet a covered serving tray and a tall, cylindrical candle in her hands. Lighting the candle with the cigarette between her lips, Shosanna placed it on the floor in front of her and then straightened. Plucking the cigarette from her mouth - held between those long, tapered fingers - Shosanna smiled at him. Disentangling himself, Fredrick rose to meet her as she explained herself.
"Edwige brought us dinner a little while ago - " with her hand holding the cigarette, she motioned to the covered tray - "and neither of us wanted to wake you as you were so exhausted…"
Her voice trailed off as he closed the gap between them. Something in his dark eyes caught Shosanna off guard, if only briefly. Taking a drag - his eyes drawn to her lips - she finished,
"…so I thought that while you slept, I would do something lovely for us both; to surprise you when you'd wake up."
Taking her face into his hands, Fredrick bent forward, and tipping her head up, he covered her mouth with his own, lightly kissing Shosanna. Just as she eased into it, just as he slid his tongue along her lower lip, threatening to deepen the kiss, he broke the contact and smiled against her mouth,
"Merci, Shosanna."
Fredrick then side-stepped her and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, he looked up at Shosanna expectantly, his beaming face illuminated by the candlelight. Though she exaggeratedly rolled her eyes at him, she was relieved that Fredrick was back to his playful nature, considering the events that took place that day. Taking her seat across from him, Shosanna ground out her cigarette; reaching for the tray cover, she removed it with flourish, revealing two plates full of vegetables and small portions of chicken.
What caught their eye, however, was the inclusion of an unopened bottle of red wine and two glasses. With a raise of her eyebrows and a quirk of her lips, Shosanna handed Fredrick a glass with one hand, and taking the corkscrew in the other, she set to the task of opening the bottle. He watched her in silence as she at first struggled with the bottle, and then freed the cork.
As Shosanna poured the wine, her eyes met his, and her breath nearly caught in her throat. His face was lit with a striking contrast of light and shadow from the flickering candle, highlighting his features brilliantly; upon his lips was a faint smile. Fredrick was - as she was all too aware - terribly taken with her. In the soft lighting, he thought her to be luminous; the golden color of her hair, the warm tones in her pale skin, her large eyes and bone structure - all were stunningly accentuated. He could not help but find himself especially drawn to her mouth; her full and sensual lips.
His smile broadened.
As if she could read his thoughts, Fredrick looked away, his hair falling into his face, which he then futilely attempted to brush back. With a look of bemusement, Shosanna sipped her wine, her eyes never leaving him. Placing the glass beside her, she inhaled and exhaled sharply through her nose, and took on a serious tone.
"Fredrick," she started, cautiously.
He raised his face to meet hers and squared his shoulders.
"Oui, Shosanna?"
She now took care in choosing her words, speaking in an even, calm tone,
"I would very much like for us to talk."
Shosanna could sense his trepidation as Fredrick grasped at his hands.
"What about?"
Shosanna gave a small shrug.
"Anything."
Fredrick pursed his lips, his eyes lowered to the floor.
Taking another breath, she clarified,
"Anything you feel comfortable with."
His grip on his hands loosening, Fredrick raised his head, and gave his cooperation.
"Oui, Shosanna."
With the scale now tipped in her favor, Shosanna raised her eyes to the ceiling in thought. Bracing himself, Fredrick reached for his glass. With a grin, she posed her first question.
"Tell me about your favorite films."
Swallowing a sip of wine, Fredrick cocked his head to the side.
"My favorite films?"
Her grin still in place,
"Oui! Your family owns a theater, do they not?"
Putting the glass down, Fredrick straightened up.
"Oui."
"And considering our first conversation consisted of film, then certainly, you must have some favorites, do you not?"
Fredrick, too, now, was smiling.
"Oui, I do."
Shosanna now leaned forward, her grin widening.
"Tell me."
It did not take much more prying, as Fredrick immediately answered her with great enthusiasm,
"The Man Who Laughs has to be my favorite."
Shosanna was somewhat surprised.
"Conrad Veidt?"
Fredrick nodded.
The more he spoke, the more animated he became.
"Oui. I mean, the film deviates from the Victor Hugo novel, but it works regardless. It's heart-wrenching, yet ultimately uplifting; due to a horrific circumstance, Gwynplaine might have been doomed to a tragic fate, but he would not allow it to. He would not be separated from the woman he loved."
Shosanna was utterly enthralled.
Raising his glass to his lips, Fredrick went on.
"The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and The Hands of Orlac are also excellent. Veidt was an extraordinary talent."
As he took a sip of his wine, Shosanna smiled, her voice taking on a near conspiratorial tone.
"You know, Fredrick, before meeting you, I was in talks with an individual who was going to look into procuring a copy of Casablanca for me."
The young man almost choked and his eyes widened with disbelief.
"Oh, what I'd give to have seen it!"
Resting her elbows on her knees, Shosanna held her face in her hands and sighed.
"It would have been perfect for us, wouldn't it?"
Clasping his hands, Fredrick sat forward and nodded his head.
"Oui, most certainly. We'll have to make do with living the reality of it, won't we?"
The two grew quieter.
"How did you feel about his blacklisting?"
Fredrick was now straight-faced.
"Horrendous. To not even report of his death, to so blatantly ignore his contributions to German cinema? It is unforgivable."
He then softened, his mouth forming a small smile.
"At least I can voice with pride that he and I both share similar views."
Shosanna now brightened.
"And Marlene, too."
"Oui," he agreed, "Marlene too. Very admirable woman. Though as far as actresses are concerned, I prefer Garbo."
Fredrick's opinions on actresses now piqued her interest.
"Oh?"
"There's something far more natural about her," he reasoned, "something so altogether fascinating. She is capable of expressing so much with her face alone. Her performances in Anna Karenina and The Painted Veil are a testament to that fact. Magnificent!"
Shosanna smirked, startling Fredrick out of his musing.
"I would not have figured you for a Garbo fan."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Who, then, would be appropriate for me?"
Shosanna leaned in closer.
"Bridget von Hammersmark?"
Fredrick scoffed.
"Bridget von Hammersmark! Though indeed, a talented woman, she is no Garbo."
Laughing at his indignation, Shosanna threw her head back. Thoroughly amused himself, Fredrick joined her in her laughter, a first for both.
It felt good, it felt right, and it utterly surprised them, bringing them both to a standstill; their eyes on each other. Before she could say a word, Fredrick shifted the focus onto her.
"What about you, Shosanna? What cinema speaks to you?"
Like him, she did not have to give it a second thought.
"I may have my citizenship revoked for this, but I prefer the films of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire."
"Really?" Fredrick was shocked.
"You worked in Le Gamaar for four years, surrounded by the finest of French cinema and those Americans are your favorites of them all?"
Shosanna nodded and added, with much pride,
"Oui. Along with Marion Davies, Richard Barthelmess, Colleen Moore, and Buster Keaton."
With an air of playful seriousness, Fredrick challenged,
"Who would you choose, Keaton or Chaplin?"
Shosanna smiled, and without missing a beat, "Keaton."
His mouth went slack, but she was not yet done with him.
"And," she held her head defiantly, "I would choose Harold Lloyd over all of them: Keaton, Chaplin, and most of all, Max Linder."
Grimacing, Fredrick dramatically placed a hand over his chest, which elicited more laughter from her.
"You tread upon dangerous ground, Mademoiselle Dreyfus! How you wound me."
Both settling down, Shosanna took on a more wistful tone as she further expounded upon her choices.
"You see, such films, such actors… they were my escapism. I did not have to face reality for at least a few hours at a time each day because of them. For that, I am eternally grateful."
Fredrick gave her a comforting smile.
"I understand."
Shosanna's voice was softer now,
"Merci, Fredrick."
A moment passed between them as they shared a meaningful look. Once more, Fredrick spoke up,
"Peter Lorre."
Shosanna raised an eyebrow.
"Peter Lorre. You are a fan of his, too, are you not?"
Clapping her hands together, she smiled widely.
"Oui! Oui, of course! M is one of my favorites."
Fredrick responded in kind,
"Oui! M is a masterpiece!"
Gleefully, her voice above a whisper,
"The only reason I did not throw a fit over having to host a German night - aside from the obvious - is because it meant I could show films by Fritz Lang and F.W. Murnau."
Fredrick smirked.
"Ah, so you have an appreciation for Germans, after all."
With mock annoyance, Shosanna sat up straight.
"I told you, we respect directors in my country."
"Even Germans," he shot back, smugly.
"Oui, even Germans."
Thoughtfully, Fredrick swirled the last of the wine in his glass before drinking it down and continuing on.
"You'd get along well with my sister Gerda," he informed Shosanna.
Pouring more wine in their glasses, she gave him a sidelong glance.
"Would I?"
He simply nodded.
"Oui. She loves Paris - though she's never been - and she's fond of American cinema, primarily.
And - " Fredrick stopped himself momentarily, a distant look in his eyes - "when I told her that I was to star in a film about my war exploits, she exclaimed, 'Oh, like the Gary Cooper film!'"
He sighed.
"Did you know Sgt. York refused to have a film about him unless Gary Cooper specifically played him? I should have demanded the same."
Though he made an effort to sound humorous, Shosanna could detect a note of disgust in his voice; she tensed.
His posture and voice now rigid, Fredrick's features noticeably darkened. He carried on, bitterly,
"I was forced into all of it. Hitler Youth was mandatory by the time I ten years old. At age sixteen, I was already being militaristically trained for Wehrmacht."
Shosanna swallowed hard, her hands now balling into fists; she thought of Fredrick as what he was - a young boy - and she thought of her brother.
Fredrick could no longer bear to look at her, his eyes to the floor, his voice faraway. He could no longer hold back and she did not want him to.
"I was eighteen by the time I was in Italy in September, 1943; in that bell tower. Shortly after that, I turned nineteen, was given a chest full of medals, and a film contract. All I had to do was show up on set. I was inconsequential to the whole project, really, as it was for the sake of Goebbels. After that, I was sent to Paris for promotion and was free to do whatever else I wanted."
Fredrick then looked back to her.
"All I had to do was make a deal with the Devil," he chuckled at the thought, and then, voice faint and giving a weak smile,
"I could consider it all worth it now, though."
Shosanna struggled to smile back, as hearing his recollection - even sparse in detail - broke her heart.
"Tell me about Helga," she broke in, "you told me about her before. Please, tell me about her."
Relaxing somewhat, Fredrick complied, his crooked smile returning,
"She is the oldest of us all - her, Elsa, Gerda, Annaleisa, Elke, Liese, and," he perked up, "me."
Shosanna smiled, heartening him.
"Helga looked after us all, you see," Fredrick's bright demeanor faltering slightly, "after my mother died of tuberculosis when I was six, my father's condition deteriorated rapidly. The first war took a toll on him, and after mum's death he became a complete drunkard. We were our support system, our family, but Helga was - and is - our rock, our foundation."
Fredrick looked down to his wringing hands.
"I am afraid that I have effectively ruined the evening," he quipped.
Reaching out, Shosanna placed her hand under his chin and raised his face to hers.
"Non, Fredrick, I wanted to know. I want to understand you better, and you have been nothing but open with me; the fact that you trust me alone with all of this… is overwhelming, but I do not take it for granted."
In response, he raised his hand to her face and ran the pad of his thumb over her scar. His voice wavering and hushed,
"Tell me about Amos."
Clenching her jaw, Shosanna nodded.
They withdrew from each other, and now sitting on her knees, she folded her hands into her lap. Her voice came loud, clear,
"He would have been twelve by now. He was my younger brother, my only sibling. My family consisted of myself, my brother Amos, my uncle Bob, and my parents, Jakob and Miriam."
Taking a moment, Shosanna gathered herself before going on. Fredrick had given her his rapt attention.
"We lived out in the countryside. We were a family of dairy farmers."
Fredrick was thoroughly impressed.
"Cows and everything?"
Shosanna smiled, despite herself.
"Oui, cows and everything. It was a modest living, but it was enough for us. We had one another, after all."
Markedly, her shoulders then sagged.
"By 1940, we had been hearing about the Jews being rounded up and taken away; they were only whispers then, but my parents still worried. It was mandatory then as well for Jews to be registered, and many were already wearing the yellow star. My parents refused; we were French citizens, like all of the others. They saw no reason for us to be set apart. My brother and I were not yet fully aware of all that was transpiring, which they preferred."
Fisting her hands into the skirt of her dress, Shosanna took in a shaky breath.
"It didn't take much longer, however, and by 1941, we knew. We were hidden by a nearby family, the LaPadites; he was a widower with three daughters. Not much longer after that, in April…"
Her voice trailed off, and closing her eyes, Shosanna shivered. Fredrick, now leaning forward, was concerned; reaching out, he put his hand over the both of hers. He had to know, and she had to tell him.
"Landa arrived that afternoon. My family and I hid under the floorboards. I was the only survivor. I was eighteen then, and by the time I arrived at Le Gamaar, I was nearly nineteen."
Opening her eyes, Shosanna exhaled. Fredrick sat back, his brow creased and at a loss for words.
"Shosanna, I am sorry, I - "
Calmly, she interrupted him.
"Fredrick, do not apologize. You are not at fault."
"Oui, but I wore the uniform," he countered.
"But you were just a child, a boy," Shosanna interjected earnestly, "and just like me, the circumstance you found yourself trapped within was out of your control."
Their conversation halted, their eyes on each other. A pall fell over them as the gravity of their situation weighed down upon them.
He was not supposed to be a war hero and she was not supposed to lose her family. She was supposed to hate him. To learn of her heritage, he should have been disgusted. They were supposed to be enemies. The two of them were not supposed to be there, together.
Nothing was guaranteed.
She learned that the day she escaped the farmhouse; he in a bell tower in Italy.
"Fate is rather strange, isn't it?" Fredrick mused.
"It is, indeed," she agreed solemnly, before reminding him,
"We could consider it all worth it now."
He could not argue. Still, he was unrelenting.
"I did not carve that swastika."
Shosanna gave him a curious expression.
"I thought of my family; that was the only reason I did not die in that bell tower. There were better soldiers than me, Shosanna. I did not want to kill those men. I'm just the only one who survived."
His eyes were on hers; his stare was impenetrable, unnerving. And within those eyes was that flicker she had recognized before on film and in the projection booth. Fredrick's tone was now melancholic,
"I spent months on that set, trying the patience of those around me because I could barely hold myself together. The gun was a prop, but it may as well have been real for all I knew. The first day of filming, I threw up."
Fredrick slumped.
"Luisa was not even real."
Luisa.
She, as Shosanna recalled, was the sweetheart he triumphantly returned to on film: a shapely, cherubic-faced woman with round blue eyes and blonde curls; the ideal Aryan woman, devoted to the brave German War Hero. She was played by UFA actress Liselotte Lambrecht.
Running a hand through his hair, Fredrick almost laughed, he almost cried.
"I don't think Gary Cooper ever had that problem."
Taking a sip of wine, Fredrick quietly confessed,
"That's why I was so terrified and excited when you asked me to close the door."
Shosanna's brows knitted together; she was not quite understanding.
His nerves getting the better of him, Fredrick replied bluntly,
"No Luisa, no great love of my life."
Shosanna then pieced it together.
"Oh."
Blushing, he turned away from her, his voice barely audible.
"I wanted - and I still do - to be with you, Shosanna, but not like that. Not there."
She wanted to approach the subject with care, but she wanted answers as well.
"So you've never…?"
"Oui," Fredrick cut in, embarrassed, "never."
This was difficult for Shosanna to grasp and even harder for him to talk about. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she turned Fredrick to face her. Reluctantly, he raised his face to hers.
"I suppose I was forced to grow up in every other area except that one. The other enlisted men would try to get me to visit the brothels, and even Liselotte propositioned me, but…"
His thoughts drifting off, Fredrick's eyes met with hers.
"…none of it felt right."
Sitting back on her heels, Shosanna clasped her hands in her lap.
"What does feel right, Fredrick?" she inquired.
Without hesitation, he was unwavering and honest,
"You, Shosanna."
There was no expectancy, no insinuation of obligation.
Fredrick was perfectly sincere.
Shosanna's heart broke.
Both were weary of tears, of grief.
Words were, and always would be, insufficient between them.
Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it to her chest, over her heart; its hammering pulse communicating what words could not. Her eyes were on his, pleading with him for an understanding; within their depths, he too, identified that same flicker. Removing her hand from his, Shosanna reached behind her back, pulling down the zipper tab little by little, just enough to free her arm from the sleeve of her dress. With his hand still in place, his eyes on hers, she felt a shiver run through Fredrick; watched as his jaw quavered as he anticipated her next move.
As the sleeve fell loose, the thin strap of her slip was revealed; the only barrier between he and her flesh. With the hand of her freed arm, Shosanna plucked the strap between her thumb and forefinger. Gingerly, she dragged it down her shoulder, revealing the top of her left breast. Then, reaching up to the neckline of the garment, Shosanna pushed it down further, fully exposing her beautiful, small breast.
Fredrick swallowed and found his throat went dry.
Covering his hand with hers once more, Shosanna slid his hand down to cup her breast. She gasped at the feel of him and Fredrick's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, at the feel of her nipple hardening against his palm. Timidly, he held it, kneading the soft flesh as Shosanna arched into his hand. They leaned forward and into each other, his other hand cradling the back of her head and her other hand resting on his chest; their lips meeting.
Tremors of desire ran through Fredrick as Shosanna lightly ran her tongue over his lower lip; opening his mouth for her, accepting the warm slick of her tongue sliding over his. With the feel of his lips, his tongue, and his hand on her breast, a slow pool of heat formed in her lower abdomen and her body shuddered from the sensation. Sensing this, Fredrick increased the ardor of the kiss, sucking slowly, yet hungrily on her lower lip. He craved this, and it was out of control.
Abruptly, he pulled back from her. Lips parted, her breathing labored, Shosanna was left wanting. She almost could have protested, she almost could have sobbed. Their eyes locked.
He then knew.
She felt just as he did, just as strongly; the same ache, the same need. As Shosanna sat up on her knees, Fredrick bent forward, and taking ahold of her hips, he directed his attentions to her breast. Swirling his tongue around her nipple, he took it into his mouth, sucking gently. Clutching at his shoulders, Shosanna drew in a breath through her teeth, but had found her lungs had constricted with anticipation.
They needed more.
Fredrick tightened his hold on her hips and the two stood on shaking legs, their eyes on each other. Her body against his, Shosanna could feel that he was hard, painfully and urgently so. Their breathing uneven, their hearts racing, the two regarded one another with anxious expectation. The way Fredrick looked upon Shosanna could have made her knees buckle; the enormity with which he wanted her, loved her was almost unfathomable. Without a word and a slight nod of her head, Shosanna gave him her consent; she wanted this as much as he.
Their eyes never leaving the other, Shosanna and Fredrick undressed each other. He was meticulous with every detail: his fingertips skimmed over every inch of her skin he exposed, his hands cupped every curve; from the swell of her ass, her soft breasts, her narrow hips, to her elegant neck. The heat which pooled in her lower abdomen spread to every inch he touched, leaving her nerves inflamed and senses heightened. Fredrick, too, was just as affected by Shosanna - the feel and sight of her skin, her body in such close proximity to his - to know, to feel that she wanted this, wanted him.
Pulling the thin, white undershirt from his body, she brushed his rogue forelocks away from his face, just as he had done so many times before when in her presence. Running her hands - soft, gentle - over his bare chest, his abdominals, watching as the muscle tensed and relaxed beneath her fingertips, Shosanna looked upon him with wonder; as she did so, a feeling stirred within Fredrick, an ache which demanded attention.
Her hands hovered at the waistline of his slacks, and she looked up into his eyes. The trust, the love, and the sad, desperate desire she found within them was devastating. Shosanna forced her hands steady as she worked the small button fastening the pants. Looking up again, she could see he had his head back with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, waiting.
"Shosanna, please…"
It came out as a near plea; it was all he could manage, and it was all that she needed to hear. Without further reluctance, Shosanna made quick work of the slacks and his briefs, snaking them down his legs, leaving them to gather around his feet. Standing back from one another, they both drew in breath at the sight of each other.
There was a quiet sultriness to her face, a simple certainty reflected in her round, green eyes. Her body, lithe and delicate, held a lush invitation in every curve. With her fair skin and halo of golden waves, Shosanna was positively radiant. Fredrick was simply awed by Shosanna and his wide-eyed, reverential gaze brought a rush of color to her face. He was conscious of his developing enthrallment, but was helpless to resist.
Shosanna, too, was captivated by Fredrick.
She was at once fascinated and intimidated. He appeared in flux, somewhere between manhood and boyishness. The light and shadows highlighted the boyish, youthful, contours of his face and emphasized his dark hair and eyes, which were fixated upon her. His body, in its condition and in full state of arousal was wholly masculine; comprised of taut, hard lines and lean muscle, his was a body honed and sculpted by years of discipline and militaristic training. The strength, power, vulnerability, and innocence of the German war hero was enough to leave her breathless. Shosanna wanted him in every conceivable manner.
Closing the space between them, Fredrick took Shosanna's face into his hands; in return, she did the same, placing her hands on the sides of his face, eyes locking on the other with amazement. Lowering his face to hers, their lips met; softly, staggeringly. As they parted, Shosanna took Fredrick by the hand, leading him to the bed; his eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips, the fullness of her ass, and the provocative curves of her thighs as she moved. Bathed in moonlight, she lay down on the bed, stretched out on her back, waiting for him.
Without pause for permission, without apprehension, Fredrick lay down on his side next to Shosanna, facing her. Though his hardness was aching against her thigh, Fredrick's attention was exclusively on her. Stretching out a hand, he cupped the side of her face, turning her head to him; very lightly, he ran his thumb over her scar, watching as she closed her eyes. He continued to move his hand downward, his fingertips running along every curve of her cheek, of her jawline. Reaching her sensuous mouth, he then traced the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.
"You are beautiful, Shosanna."
Her eyes opened, meeting his. Fredrick was totally genuine. It was clear for her to see - it was held within his eyes, in the way that he touched her - that Fredrick had never wanted anyone, anything, like this. Shosanna almost could have wailed out of the joy and sorrow from knowing that out of a circumstance such as theirs, two people such as they could be brought together.
Changing his position so that he was now half above her, Fredrick took her lips with his own. Shosanna moved against him, under him, with him, parting her lips for him as Fredrick smoothly pressed his tongue forward into her mouth. He moved breathless and intense against her as his hands moved over her body, wanting more. Fredrick seemed addicted to tasting Shosanna - her lips, her skin, the curve of her neck - moving further down, he turned his focus to her breasts.
She knew she could never tire of the feel of his mouth against her skin, tasting, sucking, and memorizing as he spread soft kisses upward and over her nipples, his hand following along, exploring the way they hardened beneath his touch. Shosanna barely had time to recover from Fredrick's ministrations, as he was enamored with every inch of her.
Every small intake of breath, each hitch in breath were encouragement enough as he made his way from her breasts to her abdomen and further down, to her hipbones; no part of her went unnoticed. As Fredrick reached the junction between her thighs, her breath caught, and he looked to her for reassurance. Shosanna's voice barely came out in the smallest of whispers,
"Fredrick."
Shosanna spread herself for him, and repositioning himself between her legs, Fredrick slowly swept his fingers over her knee, tracing downward and along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. At first, she jerked, her body jolting from his touch, her thighs closing around him as though to deny him access. But Fredrick's fingers moved rhythmically, stroking, teasing, testing, and her legs moved apart, mutely inviting his touch. Tenderly, he explored her slick heat; it was exquisite, it was excruciating. She shifted beneath him, hips lifting, wanting more. Reaching for his hand, Shosanna covered it with hers, guiding his movements.
Fredrick understood her yearning, her need, and gave her his complete compliance. Together, they caressed and stroked her center, applying pressure and finding their rhythm. Shosanna was dazed, feeling open and exposed to him in a way that went beyond the bareness of her body. Every nerve leapt, every sense focused, following his touch as he took the lead.
Leaning forward and over her, Fredrick captured her lips with his own, filling her mouth with his tongue; as he did so, he slid one, long finger into her. Gasping through the kiss, Shosanna could no longer breathe, no longer think; all she could do was move against him, her body coiling tight. Feeling her tense, Fredrick held her to him, her lips beneath his as he led her on, cupping her and grinding his palm against her clit. Feeling Shosanna wriggle against him anxiously, Fredrick groaned, his lips leaving her mouth.
Kissing her frantically down her throat and onto the white plain of her chest, he closed his mouth over her nipple and sucked. Shosanna almost screamed, the sound only half-smothered; the sensation, the heat, had grown exceedingly sharper. With nimble fingers, Fredrick then increased both pressure and rhythm, pressing further; astonished by the tactile wonder of the hot, slick flesh he caressed.
Desire surged and rushed through her; she felt his touch so keenly, so intimately. Her senses igniting, nerves unraveling and her body shuddering, Shosanna grasped at Fredrick as she came. With wonder, he watched her through her completion: the way her lips parted as she cried out, how her skin pinkened with orgasm; to know her body on such an intimate level. He was enraptured with her resplendence, marveling at the effect he had upon her, at all he was able to make her feel. Traces of her arousal and climax still lingering on his fingers, Fredrick brought them into his mouth, savoring the taste of her. Curling into her side, he looked upon Shosanna with reverence.
It was still not enough, which they both knew.
The weight of his erection was heavy on her thigh. Rolling over onto her side to directly face him, his name the barest of sounds in the quiet room,
"Fredrick."
Seizing his face in her hands, Shosanna closed her mouth over his, pulling him into a kiss, sweet and lingering, tasting herself on his lips. His body was pressed against hers, his hardness against her abdomen. Breaking the kiss, Fredrick brought his head to rest in the crook of her neck, his voice a whisper,
"Shosanna."
There was an insistency to his tone and Shosanna knew - and expected - that he could not wield control any longer, that he could not contain himself, especially now, paired with the emotions they were at long last sharing. Taking him into her arms, she pulled at Fredrick, urging him upward and along her body as she turned onto her back, until once again, she was able to look into his eyes; there was still more Shosanna wanted to feel, more that she wanted of him. His body now enveloping her own, Fredrick smiled softly, his eyes half-lidded with desire and warmth.
Dragging in a breath, Shosanna turned her attention to him, to other aspects she'd yet to explore. She ran her fingers over his chest, tracing over every hard line, feeling the flexing muscle. Fingers spread, she tested, she explored; drifting lower, over his rigid abdomen. From beneath heavy lids, Fredrick watched her face, enthralled - as always - with the play of emotions across it, by the directness he'd become acquainted with upon first meeting Shosanna, and he valued it for what it was. As guarded as she could be, he knew that with her, there would never be a need to wonder, to even think.
It seemed as though there weren't enough places to touch him, to show him how she felt. Shosanna moved her hands over Fredrick's sides, up and over his back, feeling the smooth hardness of muscles tightening beneath her touch. She then traveled down to his hips and between his legs, to the hardest part of him, pressed against her thigh. There, with her long, tapered fingers, Shosanna took him into her hand. The sound Fredrick made as she did so was incredible; soft and deep, he drew in a breath, his eyes grew wider, darker.
Delicately, she tightened her hold on him, and his body mildly shook. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Fredrick exhaled against her skin as he moved back from the intensity of her grip. Shosanna further encouraged him, kissing the crook of his neck, tasting the sheen of sweat. Again, Fredrick sucked in a breath, and moved forward in her hand. Smiling against his skin, her voice was low and honeyed as she coaxed him on.
"Just feel, Fredrick."
Together - she, sliding her hand up and down the length of him, and he, moving into her grip, back and forth - they once again found their rhythm. Fredrick had experienced such stimulation before on his own, but nothing as gratifying as this; it was a feeling he had never known before. He was at the mercy of Shosanna's gentle hands, and it was far too much for him to contain.
His sensory overload tripping within him, she felt him shake against her. With his voice catching as he attempted to utter her name, Shosanna loosened her hold, but silently, Fredrick objected. He held her hand to him, as the demand he felt within was too much. Shosanna complied, taking him again, allowing for Fredrick to reach his moment. He cried out softly, yet urgently; her name faintly upon his lips. His body still shook as he rested, half to one side above her, struggling to regain his composure, his breath. Looking into his eyes, Shosanna was able to see - and feel - so much.
She wanted more.
Smiling crookedly at Shosanna, Fredrick rose slowly and shakily to meet her lips, his body easing against hers. He trailed kisses along her jawline and neck as he ran his hand down her side, along the curve of her hip - mindful of the fluids he had left there - and back up to her breast, his eyes focusing there as he ran his thumb over her nipple. His eyes then settled back onto hers as she returned his gaze. Both knew what they wanted - needed - of the other, from each other. No words had to be said, as it was understood.
Fredrick laid out on his side, with Shosanna following against him. Bodies entwining, the two were mesmerized with one another, with all that they were experiencing with each other. There was but a thread of impatience between them, for there was yet more that they wanted, that they needed of the other. As if to reconcile this, Shosanna put her leg over Fredrick's backside, pulling him closer still, against her burgeoning wetness. With a groan, he moved his hand over her leg, his fingertips stroking up and down her thigh, so she could feel him against her, the gentle pulse there; both knew that neither would have to wait much longer. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips to his. Eagerly, determinedly, he returned her kiss as he snaked a hand up and over her hip, cupping her ass. For long moments there was nothing but this, nothing but her mouth exploring his, the crush of his body to hers; both provoking the other.
Feeling Fredrick's erection, Shosanna rolled onto her back, taking him with her. With his body over hers once more, she could feel his insistent need against her, hard and ready; her body, responding naturally, moved against his, her hips bucking. He let his hand fall to her leg as it rose against his hip; as she moved, he slipped between her thighs, and she opened herself to him. Resting on his elbows, he placed his hands on either side of her face, looking down into her eyes. Physically, the two of them were more than ready, their bodies straining against the other.
Meeting his gaze, Shosanna found a look in Fredrick's eyes that was questioning; questions that she wanted to answer over and over. Sliding her hands from his shoulders, she brought them to cup his face. Fredrick wanted Shosanna in all ways, just as she felt for him; that she knew. It was unspoken love and concern, profound and true. Words were not sufficient, and in that moment, she did not feel she was capable of even speaking; in their place, she offered a smile, genuine and meaningful, intending to convey all she understood and felt. Lowering his face to hers, Fredrick brought his lips to her forehead. As he pulled back, Shosanna could feel that he was trembling.
Trembling.
Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, was trembling, and all because of Shosanna Dreyfus.
This was what they both wanted; it was an immeasurable demand, an exhaustive need that could only be satisfied with one another. It was felt that night they had met, outside Le Gamaar; Fredrick felt it instantly, and it blossomed within Shosanna the moment he turned from her and disappeared into the darkness. She had initially chastised herself for her attraction to him, for her ever increasing interest in the German War Hero, for her heart wrenching when in his presence. Her heart gave way and broke knowing that he too, like the others, would be killed that night of the premiere. Shosanna could have and should have hated herself for it, but she thought of him, even in the most intimate of moments, wondering about the look and feel of him out of the uniform.
Shosanna had become his single consolation, and he had thought of her often. He had written about her excitedly to Helga back in Munich, how he had hoped for the two women to eventually meet, how he had wanted to share his life with the young theater proprietor. She was Emmanuelle Mimieux then, but after the night they witnessed the destruction of Le Gamaar, Fredrick knew that he loved Shosanna Dreyfus more than Emmanuelle, more strongly than any single emotion the young man had ever felt in his short, tumultuous life.
Looking into her eyes long and steady, Fredrick could see and feel the absolute trust, love, and vulnerability Shosanna felt; she, too, saw and felt the same reflected in his eyes. All of the tension, the denial, and the unfulfilled longing would finally be brought to an end; along with that came all of their anguish and sorrow from their shared traumas. Realizing this was enough to bring them to tears. What they wanted, what they needed was each other.
There was no going back.
Feeling how Fredrick shifted against her with such restless urgency, Shosanna reached her hand down, to between their legs. Carefully, she touched him, cupping him; feeling the extent of his arousal, she encircled him with her hand. Their eyes never parting, she guided him closer, touching him to her. Voice faint, Shosanna whispered,
"Oui, Fredrick."
Retracting her hand, she brought them to his shoulders as Fredrick, giving a slow, instinctive push of his hips, entered her; engulfed within her warm, tight, wet heat. Both drew in a harsh breath and their bodies stilled from the magnitude of that long-awaited connection as it filled them fully. He looked upon her with wonder, lust, and love. Nearly rendered senseless, she was his only focus; there was nothing else.
"Shosanna."
She lifted her hips in encouragement, craving beyond measure all he had to give, and she wanted to give him the same in return. As their bodies eased into each other, adjusting to one another, Fredrick closed his eyes, allowing the feeling to carry him. Shosanna, too, joined him in his reverie, relishing the feel of his hardness, his length, and the weight of his body, pushing her into the mattress. Opening his eyes, Fredrick met her gaze, his face set in concentration. He moved; his first thrust enough to make them both cry out. Together, they found their rhythm; languid, yet ardent. Their eyes fixed on each other; they studied one another without a word, their bodies moving steadily together, speaking all they had left to silence.
Immersed in each other, they wanted, needed more. Pressing, thrusting himself deeper, harder, into and against her, Fredrick quickened the pace, and Shosanna was more than able to rise to his challenge. He was consumed with her, in the wholeness of loving her, of giving himself to her, to feeling all she had to give in return; Shosanna was everything. Fredrick bent his head, taking her mouth once more, her lips parting beneath his. Wrapping her arms around his back, she caressed, trailing her fingertips along to his biceps and feeling the firm, flexed muscle. Shosanna was wholly lost in Fredrick, in his body.
They both broke from the kiss, gasping, their breaths intermingling as he moved within her swiftly, completely. With his thrusts growing more forceful, Shosanna writhed beneath Fredrick, craving solidity. Her fingers straightening from where they curled around his biceps, she slid her hands up over his back and clung; she wanted this, wanted him, to be sore from his weight, to feel the full force of his release, for him to feel the strength of hers. His breath staggering, and body tensing, Shosanna wrapped her legs around him, holding him to her in a passionate embrace; he was not yet ready to let go, as her own climax was imminent.
His body shaking, Shosanna urged Fredrick on, pressing her heels into his lower back. Driving into her forcefully, powerfully, she rode every thrust, pushing back against him, clinging to him with desperation, a hunger she had not felt before; never before had she craved consummation. Both were left breathless, heated, their nerves spiraling; his thrusts growing more strenuous, aggressive.
This was what she wanted, what she needed, and Fredrick had to give it to her.
Every stroke, every thrust was deliberate, determined. Bracing herself against Fredrick, Shosanna met him stroke for stroke; moving with him and against him fervently. Her palms flat on his back, Shosanna could feel the muscle as it tensed and relaxed. A shiver coursed through her, as she could feel herself, right on the edge, and she could feel him; solid and pulsating. Lowering his head, Fredrick nuzzled her neck, his voice low against her throat; the dampness of his forehead and her own sweat mingling to create a sensational smoothness as his lips moved there,
"Shosanna…"
From beneath heavy lids, their eyes met; locked, their bodies slowed.
The way his voice trailed off, the way he looked into her eyes, spoke all that he could not. Shosanna flushed with heat; from her own rush of blood, from his body. She could smell his scent, her skin so alive and responsive, and her flesh quivered, pulsing and warm. Blood thrumming in her veins, her body hummed with pleasure, throbbed with desire. She waited, her breath hitching. Looking into his eyes, Shosanna found them filled with an emotion, a ferocity she had never seen there before.
Mercifully, Fredrick moved his hips, pushing forward; one final, inexorably hard thrust.
Quivering all over, her nerve endings unwound, and her perception shattered as heat pulsed through her, flooding her body and mind. Catching her breath, Shosanna clutched at Fredrick as she came, her back arching into his body and her hips bucking as indescribable sensations wracked through her, reeling and coalescing. With her brows knitting together from the intensity of her release, her skin flushing, and how fervid her petite body felt, writhing fiercely beneath him, Fredrick found her to be an absolutely beguiling sight. Crying out, Shosanna nearly wept out of relief, out of the profundity of all that she felt, in this moment, with him.
As she clenched around him, Fredrick, too, found his release; white-hot and blinding. His breath shortening, Shosanna could feel him, feel that he was ready. His body quaked with fervency and he cried out roughly as his hips thrust forward, rocking and pushing against her. She was amazed by the sight of him: his eyes shutting tightly, the simultaneous fragility and strength of his body as he came, and how, as if in veneration, his head bowed. No longer able to hold his own weight, Fredrick collapsed against Shosanna, his faced buried in her hair, his lips to her temple.
They were lost in the moment as it hung heavy between them. Leaning away from her just enough to bring his eyes back over her own, Fredrick brought his hand up to cup the side of her face; his expression far too complex to decipher. Shosanna, feeling him rising away from her, looked to him; eyes imploring, her hips lifting against his.
Fredrick could not refuse her.
He lowered himself back down, his body over hers, and together, they lay there; sore, exhausted, and thoroughly sated.
~
Fredrick lay curled into Shosanna's side, his head on her chest, his arm stretched over her midsection and his legs tangled with hers. Some time had passed since their lovemaking, and to Fredrick's protestations, Shosanna left bed only to retrieve her pack of cigarettes and matchbook. Now, she lay on her back with him, observing as smoke spiraled and dissipated above them as her other hand busied itself stroking through his mussed hair. The air was thick with the scent of the two lovers and tobacco, the atmosphere still heavy with the moment they had lost themselves within.
Her mind was still wandering.
Her eyes set back on the young man against her. She had never thought that she would ever make love with a Nazi, much less teach a virginal German War Hero how to.
She almost laughed.
Fredrick Zoller, despite wearing the uniform, was not one of them. One of them would not politely engage her in a conversation about film, they would not divulge such personal details of their lives, nor would they ever allow someone such as herself - be it Shosanna Dreyfus or Emmanuelle Mimieux - to see their vulnerabilities.
It did not matter to Shosanna if Landa had an older sister Helga, who loved him, or whether or not he truly believed the rhetoric the men he worked for espoused; her hatred for him was settled in the pit of her stomach, in the back of her mind. Fredrick Zoller was decidedly not like those men, not cut from the same cloth from men like Landa.
Her heart could not break for a man like Hans Landa.
He, along with the others, had burned to death in Le Gamaar.
Le Gamaar.
Marcel.
In all honesty, she was glad to see that he had survived. However, even if the two of them made it out alive together, they would not have lasted; the strain was already there, put upon them by a young soldier.
Sighing, Shosanna took a drag off her cigarette and brushed Fredrick's hair back from his face.
She held no regrets.
Drawing her eyes to the ceiling, Shosanna exhaled, watching as the smoke drifted and broke apart, reveling in the feel of Fredrick against her.
She loved the feel of his mouth against hers, the warm press of his flesh, his eyes wide with adoration. Most of all, she loved him.
Shosanna Dreyfus loved Fredrick Zoller.
It was all so simple, yet so complicated.
Overcome, she separated from him almost violently. Dazed, Fredrick awoke to find Shosanna hunched over the side of the bed, her back to him. Alarmed, he sat up; his voice was small, uneasy,
"Shosanna?"
She did not answer. Her hand was clamped over her mouth in a futile attempt to suppress those emotions that were ever-present, constantly threatening to surface. The words, though still difficult to articulate, were felt through to the core of her heart, within her bones. The extent of those feelings left her overawed and terrified; to begin to even contemplate the tremendousness of it could reduce her to tears.
Panic lanced through Fredrick; fearful that he had overstepped some boundary, that he had coerced her into something she did not want, he tried once more, overwrought,
"Shosanna?"
Sucking in a breath, she spoke, hoarsely, severely,
"I couldn't sleep."
The mattress dipping with his weight, Shosanna felt Fredrick at her back, his hand, warm and firm, on her shoulder; a soothing gesture.
The words, the tears, would not come. She was exasperated with herself.
Turning to face him, Shosanna was astounded at what she had found. His expression somber, he held in his eyes an empathy, a recognition, a familiarity. Shosanna and Fredrick had fully given of themselves to one another; he trembled in her arms, her name upon his lips like a mantra. What the two of them had was transcendent. It coursed through her, leaving her shaking; her mind committing to memory every line and curve of him, his every movement, his every touch.
Shosanna Dreyfus and Fredrick Zoller needed each other.
Nothing more had to be said. She sank back into Fredrick as he circled his arms around her waist and drew her back into bed; her cigarette butt slipping from her fingers and onto the floor. Settling against him, Shosanna closed her eyes as the two lay huddled together; his body protectively over hers, his arms solidly holding her. Inhaling deeply, Fredrick took in her scent, murmuring words of comfort and endearments against her skin in German. Shosanna could not speak the language, which he knew. There was, however, a string of words she was familiar with, breathed into her ear with exaltation,
"Ich liebe dich, Shosanna."
She smiled.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Shosanna/Fredrick, mentions of Hans Landa, Marcel, the Dreyfus family and the Zoller sisters.
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 9,024
Summary: It is their last night at Le Rossignol and realizing that nothing is guaranteed, Shosanna and Fredrick reach new ground in their relationship.
Warnings: A Fredrick/Shosanna-centric section. It took me a while to properly tackle this part, as I do think of it as sensitive subject matter. What takes place in this section, I didn't quite anticipate covering yet, but it came about spontaneously. Considering the events of that day (which took place in part 5), it seems fitting. References to script excerpts which I linked to in part 1 are prevalent throughout this part.
The story so far: | information/cast post | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |
With trembling hands, he took hold of the rifle, and with it, he took aim. There was no finesse, no grace to his actions; only fear.
Fredrick Zoller did not belong in that bell tower; he did not belong in Italy.
Fredrick Zoller belonged back home in Munich with his sisters, tending to mundane chores, tucked away in the projection booth of Das Kino Haus.
From his distance, he held no biases. There was no demarcation line between the Allied men and him (Nazi); they had no discernable features. They were merely there, and he was here.
Fredrick Zoller did not want to die.
Fredrick Zoller did not want to kill.
But they kept on coming; coming at him.
Palms slick with sweat and his chest constricting, Fredrick set his jaw. He thought of home. He thought of his sisters.
And so he gave them the best that he had. He pulled the trigger.
Fredrick awoke with a start, his senses alert. Feeling the weight of Shosanna, her body curled into his, her face nestled in his chest and her arm draped across him, Fredrick quickly became aware of his surroundings and relaxed. The room was cooler, dimmer; even with the absence of his wristwatch, Fredrick was able to deduce that it was early evening. Craning his neck, he raised his head to glance over the room; though nothing had changed in the time he was asleep, it helped put his mind at ease. Beside the bed lay the burgundy box. It was half-crushed, its neatly folded contents spilling out onto the floor. Laying his head back, Fredrick smiled.
His only concern was for Shosanna.
Amos.
She had a brother named Amos.
Amos Dreyfus.
He was murdered by Hans Landa.
Shosanna risked everything to burn down Le Gamaar, to kill Landa and all of the others Fredrick associated with; all of those held accountable for her torment.
There was still so much left to be said, still so much that had to be done between them. But here, now, they were granted their bit of mercy, their solace. A comfortable silence permeated the room; within its confines, they were safe.
For now.
His chest tightening, Fredrick wrapped an arm around Shosanna, holding her securely to him. He quietly sighed, watching as she moved with the rise and fall of his chest. Mindful not to wake her, yet not able to resist, he reached his hand up and brushed strands of hair from the side of her face, revealing the crescent-shaped scar above her left cheekbone.
A remnant of her ordeal?
Considerately, he ran his thumb over it, his mind conjuring up violent imaginings to explain its origins; he thought of her frightened and bloodied, hunted like an animal, her family brutally ripped away from her.
Did she look into the eyes of the man responsible?
Though it was all over now, the scars still remained.
Did she run and not look back?
Shosanna stirred slightly from the contact, and he withdrew his hand.
She was absolutely precious to him.
Wanting to sob, Fredrick squeezed his eyes shut.
His thundering heartbeat and the blood pounding in his ears were deafening, but they could not blot out the mangled cries rising up to meet him from below. Even if he could not make out their contorted faces and pained expressions, he could still see so clearly their broken, bloodied bodies. One after another, he brought them down, stopping each one in their paths.
He wanted to be sick.
He wanted to weep.
But he could not stop.
Fredrick woke once more, finding himself twisted in the bed sheets. Disoriented, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Evening had passed into night; the room was darkened and now softly lit by a combination of both the small oil lamp on the nightstand and the moonlight trickling in through the windows. Crouched on the floor a few feet in front of him was Shosanna, her back to him. Clearing his throat, Fredrick broke the silence.
"Shosanna?"
Turning to face him, he could see at her feet a covered serving tray and a tall, cylindrical candle in her hands. Lighting the candle with the cigarette between her lips, Shosanna placed it on the floor in front of her and then straightened. Plucking the cigarette from her mouth - held between those long, tapered fingers - Shosanna smiled at him. Disentangling himself, Fredrick rose to meet her as she explained herself.
"Edwige brought us dinner a little while ago - " with her hand holding the cigarette, she motioned to the covered tray - "and neither of us wanted to wake you as you were so exhausted…"
Her voice trailed off as he closed the gap between them. Something in his dark eyes caught Shosanna off guard, if only briefly. Taking a drag - his eyes drawn to her lips - she finished,
"…so I thought that while you slept, I would do something lovely for us both; to surprise you when you'd wake up."
Taking her face into his hands, Fredrick bent forward, and tipping her head up, he covered her mouth with his own, lightly kissing Shosanna. Just as she eased into it, just as he slid his tongue along her lower lip, threatening to deepen the kiss, he broke the contact and smiled against her mouth,
"Merci, Shosanna."
Fredrick then side-stepped her and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, he looked up at Shosanna expectantly, his beaming face illuminated by the candlelight. Though she exaggeratedly rolled her eyes at him, she was relieved that Fredrick was back to his playful nature, considering the events that took place that day. Taking her seat across from him, Shosanna ground out her cigarette; reaching for the tray cover, she removed it with flourish, revealing two plates full of vegetables and small portions of chicken.
What caught their eye, however, was the inclusion of an unopened bottle of red wine and two glasses. With a raise of her eyebrows and a quirk of her lips, Shosanna handed Fredrick a glass with one hand, and taking the corkscrew in the other, she set to the task of opening the bottle. He watched her in silence as she at first struggled with the bottle, and then freed the cork.
As Shosanna poured the wine, her eyes met his, and her breath nearly caught in her throat. His face was lit with a striking contrast of light and shadow from the flickering candle, highlighting his features brilliantly; upon his lips was a faint smile. Fredrick was - as she was all too aware - terribly taken with her. In the soft lighting, he thought her to be luminous; the golden color of her hair, the warm tones in her pale skin, her large eyes and bone structure - all were stunningly accentuated. He could not help but find himself especially drawn to her mouth; her full and sensual lips.
His smile broadened.
As if she could read his thoughts, Fredrick looked away, his hair falling into his face, which he then futilely attempted to brush back. With a look of bemusement, Shosanna sipped her wine, her eyes never leaving him. Placing the glass beside her, she inhaled and exhaled sharply through her nose, and took on a serious tone.
"Fredrick," she started, cautiously.
He raised his face to meet hers and squared his shoulders.
"Oui, Shosanna?"
She now took care in choosing her words, speaking in an even, calm tone,
"I would very much like for us to talk."
Shosanna could sense his trepidation as Fredrick grasped at his hands.
"What about?"
Shosanna gave a small shrug.
"Anything."
Fredrick pursed his lips, his eyes lowered to the floor.
Taking another breath, she clarified,
"Anything you feel comfortable with."
His grip on his hands loosening, Fredrick raised his head, and gave his cooperation.
"Oui, Shosanna."
With the scale now tipped in her favor, Shosanna raised her eyes to the ceiling in thought. Bracing himself, Fredrick reached for his glass. With a grin, she posed her first question.
"Tell me about your favorite films."
Swallowing a sip of wine, Fredrick cocked his head to the side.
"My favorite films?"
Her grin still in place,
"Oui! Your family owns a theater, do they not?"
Putting the glass down, Fredrick straightened up.
"Oui."
"And considering our first conversation consisted of film, then certainly, you must have some favorites, do you not?"
Fredrick, too, now, was smiling.
"Oui, I do."
Shosanna now leaned forward, her grin widening.
"Tell me."
It did not take much more prying, as Fredrick immediately answered her with great enthusiasm,
"The Man Who Laughs has to be my favorite."
Shosanna was somewhat surprised.
"Conrad Veidt?"
Fredrick nodded.
The more he spoke, the more animated he became.
"Oui. I mean, the film deviates from the Victor Hugo novel, but it works regardless. It's heart-wrenching, yet ultimately uplifting; due to a horrific circumstance, Gwynplaine might have been doomed to a tragic fate, but he would not allow it to. He would not be separated from the woman he loved."
Shosanna was utterly enthralled.
Raising his glass to his lips, Fredrick went on.
"The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and The Hands of Orlac are also excellent. Veidt was an extraordinary talent."
As he took a sip of his wine, Shosanna smiled, her voice taking on a near conspiratorial tone.
"You know, Fredrick, before meeting you, I was in talks with an individual who was going to look into procuring a copy of Casablanca for me."
The young man almost choked and his eyes widened with disbelief.
"Oh, what I'd give to have seen it!"
Resting her elbows on her knees, Shosanna held her face in her hands and sighed.
"It would have been perfect for us, wouldn't it?"
Clasping his hands, Fredrick sat forward and nodded his head.
"Oui, most certainly. We'll have to make do with living the reality of it, won't we?"
The two grew quieter.
"How did you feel about his blacklisting?"
Fredrick was now straight-faced.
"Horrendous. To not even report of his death, to so blatantly ignore his contributions to German cinema? It is unforgivable."
He then softened, his mouth forming a small smile.
"At least I can voice with pride that he and I both share similar views."
Shosanna now brightened.
"And Marlene, too."
"Oui," he agreed, "Marlene too. Very admirable woman. Though as far as actresses are concerned, I prefer Garbo."
Fredrick's opinions on actresses now piqued her interest.
"Oh?"
"There's something far more natural about her," he reasoned, "something so altogether fascinating. She is capable of expressing so much with her face alone. Her performances in Anna Karenina and The Painted Veil are a testament to that fact. Magnificent!"
Shosanna smirked, startling Fredrick out of his musing.
"I would not have figured you for a Garbo fan."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Who, then, would be appropriate for me?"
Shosanna leaned in closer.
"Bridget von Hammersmark?"
Fredrick scoffed.
"Bridget von Hammersmark! Though indeed, a talented woman, she is no Garbo."
Laughing at his indignation, Shosanna threw her head back. Thoroughly amused himself, Fredrick joined her in her laughter, a first for both.
It felt good, it felt right, and it utterly surprised them, bringing them both to a standstill; their eyes on each other. Before she could say a word, Fredrick shifted the focus onto her.
"What about you, Shosanna? What cinema speaks to you?"
Like him, she did not have to give it a second thought.
"I may have my citizenship revoked for this, but I prefer the films of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire."
"Really?" Fredrick was shocked.
"You worked in Le Gamaar for four years, surrounded by the finest of French cinema and those Americans are your favorites of them all?"
Shosanna nodded and added, with much pride,
"Oui. Along with Marion Davies, Richard Barthelmess, Colleen Moore, and Buster Keaton."
With an air of playful seriousness, Fredrick challenged,
"Who would you choose, Keaton or Chaplin?"
Shosanna smiled, and without missing a beat, "Keaton."
His mouth went slack, but she was not yet done with him.
"And," she held her head defiantly, "I would choose Harold Lloyd over all of them: Keaton, Chaplin, and most of all, Max Linder."
Grimacing, Fredrick dramatically placed a hand over his chest, which elicited more laughter from her.
"You tread upon dangerous ground, Mademoiselle Dreyfus! How you wound me."
Both settling down, Shosanna took on a more wistful tone as she further expounded upon her choices.
"You see, such films, such actors… they were my escapism. I did not have to face reality for at least a few hours at a time each day because of them. For that, I am eternally grateful."
Fredrick gave her a comforting smile.
"I understand."
Shosanna's voice was softer now,
"Merci, Fredrick."
A moment passed between them as they shared a meaningful look. Once more, Fredrick spoke up,
"Peter Lorre."
Shosanna raised an eyebrow.
"Peter Lorre. You are a fan of his, too, are you not?"
Clapping her hands together, she smiled widely.
"Oui! Oui, of course! M is one of my favorites."
Fredrick responded in kind,
"Oui! M is a masterpiece!"
Gleefully, her voice above a whisper,
"The only reason I did not throw a fit over having to host a German night - aside from the obvious - is because it meant I could show films by Fritz Lang and F.W. Murnau."
Fredrick smirked.
"Ah, so you have an appreciation for Germans, after all."
With mock annoyance, Shosanna sat up straight.
"I told you, we respect directors in my country."
"Even Germans," he shot back, smugly.
"Oui, even Germans."
Thoughtfully, Fredrick swirled the last of the wine in his glass before drinking it down and continuing on.
"You'd get along well with my sister Gerda," he informed Shosanna.
Pouring more wine in their glasses, she gave him a sidelong glance.
"Would I?"
He simply nodded.
"Oui. She loves Paris - though she's never been - and she's fond of American cinema, primarily.
And - " Fredrick stopped himself momentarily, a distant look in his eyes - "when I told her that I was to star in a film about my war exploits, she exclaimed, 'Oh, like the Gary Cooper film!'"
He sighed.
"Did you know Sgt. York refused to have a film about him unless Gary Cooper specifically played him? I should have demanded the same."
Though he made an effort to sound humorous, Shosanna could detect a note of disgust in his voice; she tensed.
His posture and voice now rigid, Fredrick's features noticeably darkened. He carried on, bitterly,
"I was forced into all of it. Hitler Youth was mandatory by the time I ten years old. At age sixteen, I was already being militaristically trained for Wehrmacht."
Shosanna swallowed hard, her hands now balling into fists; she thought of Fredrick as what he was - a young boy - and she thought of her brother.
Fredrick could no longer bear to look at her, his eyes to the floor, his voice faraway. He could no longer hold back and she did not want him to.
"I was eighteen by the time I was in Italy in September, 1943; in that bell tower. Shortly after that, I turned nineteen, was given a chest full of medals, and a film contract. All I had to do was show up on set. I was inconsequential to the whole project, really, as it was for the sake of Goebbels. After that, I was sent to Paris for promotion and was free to do whatever else I wanted."
Fredrick then looked back to her.
"All I had to do was make a deal with the Devil," he chuckled at the thought, and then, voice faint and giving a weak smile,
"I could consider it all worth it now, though."
Shosanna struggled to smile back, as hearing his recollection - even sparse in detail - broke her heart.
"Tell me about Helga," she broke in, "you told me about her before. Please, tell me about her."
Relaxing somewhat, Fredrick complied, his crooked smile returning,
"She is the oldest of us all - her, Elsa, Gerda, Annaleisa, Elke, Liese, and," he perked up, "me."
Shosanna smiled, heartening him.
"Helga looked after us all, you see," Fredrick's bright demeanor faltering slightly, "after my mother died of tuberculosis when I was six, my father's condition deteriorated rapidly. The first war took a toll on him, and after mum's death he became a complete drunkard. We were our support system, our family, but Helga was - and is - our rock, our foundation."
Fredrick looked down to his wringing hands.
"I am afraid that I have effectively ruined the evening," he quipped.
Reaching out, Shosanna placed her hand under his chin and raised his face to hers.
"Non, Fredrick, I wanted to know. I want to understand you better, and you have been nothing but open with me; the fact that you trust me alone with all of this… is overwhelming, but I do not take it for granted."
In response, he raised his hand to her face and ran the pad of his thumb over her scar. His voice wavering and hushed,
"Tell me about Amos."
Clenching her jaw, Shosanna nodded.
They withdrew from each other, and now sitting on her knees, she folded her hands into her lap. Her voice came loud, clear,
"He would have been twelve by now. He was my younger brother, my only sibling. My family consisted of myself, my brother Amos, my uncle Bob, and my parents, Jakob and Miriam."
Taking a moment, Shosanna gathered herself before going on. Fredrick had given her his rapt attention.
"We lived out in the countryside. We were a family of dairy farmers."
Fredrick was thoroughly impressed.
"Cows and everything?"
Shosanna smiled, despite herself.
"Oui, cows and everything. It was a modest living, but it was enough for us. We had one another, after all."
Markedly, her shoulders then sagged.
"By 1940, we had been hearing about the Jews being rounded up and taken away; they were only whispers then, but my parents still worried. It was mandatory then as well for Jews to be registered, and many were already wearing the yellow star. My parents refused; we were French citizens, like all of the others. They saw no reason for us to be set apart. My brother and I were not yet fully aware of all that was transpiring, which they preferred."
Fisting her hands into the skirt of her dress, Shosanna took in a shaky breath.
"It didn't take much longer, however, and by 1941, we knew. We were hidden by a nearby family, the LaPadites; he was a widower with three daughters. Not much longer after that, in April…"
Her voice trailed off, and closing her eyes, Shosanna shivered. Fredrick, now leaning forward, was concerned; reaching out, he put his hand over the both of hers. He had to know, and she had to tell him.
"Landa arrived that afternoon. My family and I hid under the floorboards. I was the only survivor. I was eighteen then, and by the time I arrived at Le Gamaar, I was nearly nineteen."
Opening her eyes, Shosanna exhaled. Fredrick sat back, his brow creased and at a loss for words.
"Shosanna, I am sorry, I - "
Calmly, she interrupted him.
"Fredrick, do not apologize. You are not at fault."
"Oui, but I wore the uniform," he countered.
"But you were just a child, a boy," Shosanna interjected earnestly, "and just like me, the circumstance you found yourself trapped within was out of your control."
Their conversation halted, their eyes on each other. A pall fell over them as the gravity of their situation weighed down upon them.
He was not supposed to be a war hero and she was not supposed to lose her family. She was supposed to hate him. To learn of her heritage, he should have been disgusted. They were supposed to be enemies. The two of them were not supposed to be there, together.
Nothing was guaranteed.
She learned that the day she escaped the farmhouse; he in a bell tower in Italy.
"Fate is rather strange, isn't it?" Fredrick mused.
"It is, indeed," she agreed solemnly, before reminding him,
"We could consider it all worth it now."
He could not argue. Still, he was unrelenting.
"I did not carve that swastika."
Shosanna gave him a curious expression.
"I thought of my family; that was the only reason I did not die in that bell tower. There were better soldiers than me, Shosanna. I did not want to kill those men. I'm just the only one who survived."
His eyes were on hers; his stare was impenetrable, unnerving. And within those eyes was that flicker she had recognized before on film and in the projection booth. Fredrick's tone was now melancholic,
"I spent months on that set, trying the patience of those around me because I could barely hold myself together. The gun was a prop, but it may as well have been real for all I knew. The first day of filming, I threw up."
Fredrick slumped.
"Luisa was not even real."
Luisa.
She, as Shosanna recalled, was the sweetheart he triumphantly returned to on film: a shapely, cherubic-faced woman with round blue eyes and blonde curls; the ideal Aryan woman, devoted to the brave German War Hero. She was played by UFA actress Liselotte Lambrecht.
Running a hand through his hair, Fredrick almost laughed, he almost cried.
"I don't think Gary Cooper ever had that problem."
Taking a sip of wine, Fredrick quietly confessed,
"That's why I was so terrified and excited when you asked me to close the door."
Shosanna's brows knitted together; she was not quite understanding.
His nerves getting the better of him, Fredrick replied bluntly,
"No Luisa, no great love of my life."
Shosanna then pieced it together.
"Oh."
Blushing, he turned away from her, his voice barely audible.
"I wanted - and I still do - to be with you, Shosanna, but not like that. Not there."
She wanted to approach the subject with care, but she wanted answers as well.
"So you've never…?"
"Oui," Fredrick cut in, embarrassed, "never."
This was difficult for Shosanna to grasp and even harder for him to talk about. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she turned Fredrick to face her. Reluctantly, he raised his face to hers.
"I suppose I was forced to grow up in every other area except that one. The other enlisted men would try to get me to visit the brothels, and even Liselotte propositioned me, but…"
His thoughts drifting off, Fredrick's eyes met with hers.
"…none of it felt right."
Sitting back on her heels, Shosanna clasped her hands in her lap.
"What does feel right, Fredrick?" she inquired.
Without hesitation, he was unwavering and honest,
"You, Shosanna."
There was no expectancy, no insinuation of obligation.
Fredrick was perfectly sincere.
Shosanna's heart broke.
Both were weary of tears, of grief.
Words were, and always would be, insufficient between them.
Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it to her chest, over her heart; its hammering pulse communicating what words could not. Her eyes were on his, pleading with him for an understanding; within their depths, he too, identified that same flicker. Removing her hand from his, Shosanna reached behind her back, pulling down the zipper tab little by little, just enough to free her arm from the sleeve of her dress. With his hand still in place, his eyes on hers, she felt a shiver run through Fredrick; watched as his jaw quavered as he anticipated her next move.
As the sleeve fell loose, the thin strap of her slip was revealed; the only barrier between he and her flesh. With the hand of her freed arm, Shosanna plucked the strap between her thumb and forefinger. Gingerly, she dragged it down her shoulder, revealing the top of her left breast. Then, reaching up to the neckline of the garment, Shosanna pushed it down further, fully exposing her beautiful, small breast.
Fredrick swallowed and found his throat went dry.
Covering his hand with hers once more, Shosanna slid his hand down to cup her breast. She gasped at the feel of him and Fredrick's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, at the feel of her nipple hardening against his palm. Timidly, he held it, kneading the soft flesh as Shosanna arched into his hand. They leaned forward and into each other, his other hand cradling the back of her head and her other hand resting on his chest; their lips meeting.
Tremors of desire ran through Fredrick as Shosanna lightly ran her tongue over his lower lip; opening his mouth for her, accepting the warm slick of her tongue sliding over his. With the feel of his lips, his tongue, and his hand on her breast, a slow pool of heat formed in her lower abdomen and her body shuddered from the sensation. Sensing this, Fredrick increased the ardor of the kiss, sucking slowly, yet hungrily on her lower lip. He craved this, and it was out of control.
Abruptly, he pulled back from her. Lips parted, her breathing labored, Shosanna was left wanting. She almost could have protested, she almost could have sobbed. Their eyes locked.
He then knew.
She felt just as he did, just as strongly; the same ache, the same need. As Shosanna sat up on her knees, Fredrick bent forward, and taking ahold of her hips, he directed his attentions to her breast. Swirling his tongue around her nipple, he took it into his mouth, sucking gently. Clutching at his shoulders, Shosanna drew in a breath through her teeth, but had found her lungs had constricted with anticipation.
They needed more.
Fredrick tightened his hold on her hips and the two stood on shaking legs, their eyes on each other. Her body against his, Shosanna could feel that he was hard, painfully and urgently so. Their breathing uneven, their hearts racing, the two regarded one another with anxious expectation. The way Fredrick looked upon Shosanna could have made her knees buckle; the enormity with which he wanted her, loved her was almost unfathomable. Without a word and a slight nod of her head, Shosanna gave him her consent; she wanted this as much as he.
Their eyes never leaving the other, Shosanna and Fredrick undressed each other. He was meticulous with every detail: his fingertips skimmed over every inch of her skin he exposed, his hands cupped every curve; from the swell of her ass, her soft breasts, her narrow hips, to her elegant neck. The heat which pooled in her lower abdomen spread to every inch he touched, leaving her nerves inflamed and senses heightened. Fredrick, too, was just as affected by Shosanna - the feel and sight of her skin, her body in such close proximity to his - to know, to feel that she wanted this, wanted him.
Pulling the thin, white undershirt from his body, she brushed his rogue forelocks away from his face, just as he had done so many times before when in her presence. Running her hands - soft, gentle - over his bare chest, his abdominals, watching as the muscle tensed and relaxed beneath her fingertips, Shosanna looked upon him with wonder; as she did so, a feeling stirred within Fredrick, an ache which demanded attention.
Her hands hovered at the waistline of his slacks, and she looked up into his eyes. The trust, the love, and the sad, desperate desire she found within them was devastating. Shosanna forced her hands steady as she worked the small button fastening the pants. Looking up again, she could see he had his head back with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, waiting.
"Shosanna, please…"
It came out as a near plea; it was all he could manage, and it was all that she needed to hear. Without further reluctance, Shosanna made quick work of the slacks and his briefs, snaking them down his legs, leaving them to gather around his feet. Standing back from one another, they both drew in breath at the sight of each other.
There was a quiet sultriness to her face, a simple certainty reflected in her round, green eyes. Her body, lithe and delicate, held a lush invitation in every curve. With her fair skin and halo of golden waves, Shosanna was positively radiant. Fredrick was simply awed by Shosanna and his wide-eyed, reverential gaze brought a rush of color to her face. He was conscious of his developing enthrallment, but was helpless to resist.
Shosanna, too, was captivated by Fredrick.
She was at once fascinated and intimidated. He appeared in flux, somewhere between manhood and boyishness. The light and shadows highlighted the boyish, youthful, contours of his face and emphasized his dark hair and eyes, which were fixated upon her. His body, in its condition and in full state of arousal was wholly masculine; comprised of taut, hard lines and lean muscle, his was a body honed and sculpted by years of discipline and militaristic training. The strength, power, vulnerability, and innocence of the German war hero was enough to leave her breathless. Shosanna wanted him in every conceivable manner.
Closing the space between them, Fredrick took Shosanna's face into his hands; in return, she did the same, placing her hands on the sides of his face, eyes locking on the other with amazement. Lowering his face to hers, their lips met; softly, staggeringly. As they parted, Shosanna took Fredrick by the hand, leading him to the bed; his eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips, the fullness of her ass, and the provocative curves of her thighs as she moved. Bathed in moonlight, she lay down on the bed, stretched out on her back, waiting for him.
Without pause for permission, without apprehension, Fredrick lay down on his side next to Shosanna, facing her. Though his hardness was aching against her thigh, Fredrick's attention was exclusively on her. Stretching out a hand, he cupped the side of her face, turning her head to him; very lightly, he ran his thumb over her scar, watching as she closed her eyes. He continued to move his hand downward, his fingertips running along every curve of her cheek, of her jawline. Reaching her sensuous mouth, he then traced the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.
"You are beautiful, Shosanna."
Her eyes opened, meeting his. Fredrick was totally genuine. It was clear for her to see - it was held within his eyes, in the way that he touched her - that Fredrick had never wanted anyone, anything, like this. Shosanna almost could have wailed out of the joy and sorrow from knowing that out of a circumstance such as theirs, two people such as they could be brought together.
Changing his position so that he was now half above her, Fredrick took her lips with his own. Shosanna moved against him, under him, with him, parting her lips for him as Fredrick smoothly pressed his tongue forward into her mouth. He moved breathless and intense against her as his hands moved over her body, wanting more. Fredrick seemed addicted to tasting Shosanna - her lips, her skin, the curve of her neck - moving further down, he turned his focus to her breasts.
She knew she could never tire of the feel of his mouth against her skin, tasting, sucking, and memorizing as he spread soft kisses upward and over her nipples, his hand following along, exploring the way they hardened beneath his touch. Shosanna barely had time to recover from Fredrick's ministrations, as he was enamored with every inch of her.
Every small intake of breath, each hitch in breath were encouragement enough as he made his way from her breasts to her abdomen and further down, to her hipbones; no part of her went unnoticed. As Fredrick reached the junction between her thighs, her breath caught, and he looked to her for reassurance. Shosanna's voice barely came out in the smallest of whispers,
"Fredrick."
Shosanna spread herself for him, and repositioning himself between her legs, Fredrick slowly swept his fingers over her knee, tracing downward and along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. At first, she jerked, her body jolting from his touch, her thighs closing around him as though to deny him access. But Fredrick's fingers moved rhythmically, stroking, teasing, testing, and her legs moved apart, mutely inviting his touch. Tenderly, he explored her slick heat; it was exquisite, it was excruciating. She shifted beneath him, hips lifting, wanting more. Reaching for his hand, Shosanna covered it with hers, guiding his movements.
Fredrick understood her yearning, her need, and gave her his complete compliance. Together, they caressed and stroked her center, applying pressure and finding their rhythm. Shosanna was dazed, feeling open and exposed to him in a way that went beyond the bareness of her body. Every nerve leapt, every sense focused, following his touch as he took the lead.
Leaning forward and over her, Fredrick captured her lips with his own, filling her mouth with his tongue; as he did so, he slid one, long finger into her. Gasping through the kiss, Shosanna could no longer breathe, no longer think; all she could do was move against him, her body coiling tight. Feeling her tense, Fredrick held her to him, her lips beneath his as he led her on, cupping her and grinding his palm against her clit. Feeling Shosanna wriggle against him anxiously, Fredrick groaned, his lips leaving her mouth.
Kissing her frantically down her throat and onto the white plain of her chest, he closed his mouth over her nipple and sucked. Shosanna almost screamed, the sound only half-smothered; the sensation, the heat, had grown exceedingly sharper. With nimble fingers, Fredrick then increased both pressure and rhythm, pressing further; astonished by the tactile wonder of the hot, slick flesh he caressed.
Desire surged and rushed through her; she felt his touch so keenly, so intimately. Her senses igniting, nerves unraveling and her body shuddering, Shosanna grasped at Fredrick as she came. With wonder, he watched her through her completion: the way her lips parted as she cried out, how her skin pinkened with orgasm; to know her body on such an intimate level. He was enraptured with her resplendence, marveling at the effect he had upon her, at all he was able to make her feel. Traces of her arousal and climax still lingering on his fingers, Fredrick brought them into his mouth, savoring the taste of her. Curling into her side, he looked upon Shosanna with reverence.
It was still not enough, which they both knew.
The weight of his erection was heavy on her thigh. Rolling over onto her side to directly face him, his name the barest of sounds in the quiet room,
"Fredrick."
Seizing his face in her hands, Shosanna closed her mouth over his, pulling him into a kiss, sweet and lingering, tasting herself on his lips. His body was pressed against hers, his hardness against her abdomen. Breaking the kiss, Fredrick brought his head to rest in the crook of her neck, his voice a whisper,
"Shosanna."
There was an insistency to his tone and Shosanna knew - and expected - that he could not wield control any longer, that he could not contain himself, especially now, paired with the emotions they were at long last sharing. Taking him into her arms, she pulled at Fredrick, urging him upward and along her body as she turned onto her back, until once again, she was able to look into his eyes; there was still more Shosanna wanted to feel, more that she wanted of him. His body now enveloping her own, Fredrick smiled softly, his eyes half-lidded with desire and warmth.
Dragging in a breath, Shosanna turned her attention to him, to other aspects she'd yet to explore. She ran her fingers over his chest, tracing over every hard line, feeling the flexing muscle. Fingers spread, she tested, she explored; drifting lower, over his rigid abdomen. From beneath heavy lids, Fredrick watched her face, enthralled - as always - with the play of emotions across it, by the directness he'd become acquainted with upon first meeting Shosanna, and he valued it for what it was. As guarded as she could be, he knew that with her, there would never be a need to wonder, to even think.
It seemed as though there weren't enough places to touch him, to show him how she felt. Shosanna moved her hands over Fredrick's sides, up and over his back, feeling the smooth hardness of muscles tightening beneath her touch. She then traveled down to his hips and between his legs, to the hardest part of him, pressed against her thigh. There, with her long, tapered fingers, Shosanna took him into her hand. The sound Fredrick made as she did so was incredible; soft and deep, he drew in a breath, his eyes grew wider, darker.
Delicately, she tightened her hold on him, and his body mildly shook. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Fredrick exhaled against her skin as he moved back from the intensity of her grip. Shosanna further encouraged him, kissing the crook of his neck, tasting the sheen of sweat. Again, Fredrick sucked in a breath, and moved forward in her hand. Smiling against his skin, her voice was low and honeyed as she coaxed him on.
"Just feel, Fredrick."
Together - she, sliding her hand up and down the length of him, and he, moving into her grip, back and forth - they once again found their rhythm. Fredrick had experienced such stimulation before on his own, but nothing as gratifying as this; it was a feeling he had never known before. He was at the mercy of Shosanna's gentle hands, and it was far too much for him to contain.
His sensory overload tripping within him, she felt him shake against her. With his voice catching as he attempted to utter her name, Shosanna loosened her hold, but silently, Fredrick objected. He held her hand to him, as the demand he felt within was too much. Shosanna complied, taking him again, allowing for Fredrick to reach his moment. He cried out softly, yet urgently; her name faintly upon his lips. His body still shook as he rested, half to one side above her, struggling to regain his composure, his breath. Looking into his eyes, Shosanna was able to see - and feel - so much.
She wanted more.
Smiling crookedly at Shosanna, Fredrick rose slowly and shakily to meet her lips, his body easing against hers. He trailed kisses along her jawline and neck as he ran his hand down her side, along the curve of her hip - mindful of the fluids he had left there - and back up to her breast, his eyes focusing there as he ran his thumb over her nipple. His eyes then settled back onto hers as she returned his gaze. Both knew what they wanted - needed - of the other, from each other. No words had to be said, as it was understood.
Fredrick laid out on his side, with Shosanna following against him. Bodies entwining, the two were mesmerized with one another, with all that they were experiencing with each other. There was but a thread of impatience between them, for there was yet more that they wanted, that they needed of the other. As if to reconcile this, Shosanna put her leg over Fredrick's backside, pulling him closer still, against her burgeoning wetness. With a groan, he moved his hand over her leg, his fingertips stroking up and down her thigh, so she could feel him against her, the gentle pulse there; both knew that neither would have to wait much longer. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips to his. Eagerly, determinedly, he returned her kiss as he snaked a hand up and over her hip, cupping her ass. For long moments there was nothing but this, nothing but her mouth exploring his, the crush of his body to hers; both provoking the other.
Feeling Fredrick's erection, Shosanna rolled onto her back, taking him with her. With his body over hers once more, she could feel his insistent need against her, hard and ready; her body, responding naturally, moved against his, her hips bucking. He let his hand fall to her leg as it rose against his hip; as she moved, he slipped between her thighs, and she opened herself to him. Resting on his elbows, he placed his hands on either side of her face, looking down into her eyes. Physically, the two of them were more than ready, their bodies straining against the other.
Meeting his gaze, Shosanna found a look in Fredrick's eyes that was questioning; questions that she wanted to answer over and over. Sliding her hands from his shoulders, she brought them to cup his face. Fredrick wanted Shosanna in all ways, just as she felt for him; that she knew. It was unspoken love and concern, profound and true. Words were not sufficient, and in that moment, she did not feel she was capable of even speaking; in their place, she offered a smile, genuine and meaningful, intending to convey all she understood and felt. Lowering his face to hers, Fredrick brought his lips to her forehead. As he pulled back, Shosanna could feel that he was trembling.
Trembling.
Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, was trembling, and all because of Shosanna Dreyfus.
This was what they both wanted; it was an immeasurable demand, an exhaustive need that could only be satisfied with one another. It was felt that night they had met, outside Le Gamaar; Fredrick felt it instantly, and it blossomed within Shosanna the moment he turned from her and disappeared into the darkness. She had initially chastised herself for her attraction to him, for her ever increasing interest in the German War Hero, for her heart wrenching when in his presence. Her heart gave way and broke knowing that he too, like the others, would be killed that night of the premiere. Shosanna could have and should have hated herself for it, but she thought of him, even in the most intimate of moments, wondering about the look and feel of him out of the uniform.
Shosanna had become his single consolation, and he had thought of her often. He had written about her excitedly to Helga back in Munich, how he had hoped for the two women to eventually meet, how he had wanted to share his life with the young theater proprietor. She was Emmanuelle Mimieux then, but after the night they witnessed the destruction of Le Gamaar, Fredrick knew that he loved Shosanna Dreyfus more than Emmanuelle, more strongly than any single emotion the young man had ever felt in his short, tumultuous life.
Looking into her eyes long and steady, Fredrick could see and feel the absolute trust, love, and vulnerability Shosanna felt; she, too, saw and felt the same reflected in his eyes. All of the tension, the denial, and the unfulfilled longing would finally be brought to an end; along with that came all of their anguish and sorrow from their shared traumas. Realizing this was enough to bring them to tears. What they wanted, what they needed was each other.
There was no going back.
Feeling how Fredrick shifted against her with such restless urgency, Shosanna reached her hand down, to between their legs. Carefully, she touched him, cupping him; feeling the extent of his arousal, she encircled him with her hand. Their eyes never parting, she guided him closer, touching him to her. Voice faint, Shosanna whispered,
"Oui, Fredrick."
Retracting her hand, she brought them to his shoulders as Fredrick, giving a slow, instinctive push of his hips, entered her; engulfed within her warm, tight, wet heat. Both drew in a harsh breath and their bodies stilled from the magnitude of that long-awaited connection as it filled them fully. He looked upon her with wonder, lust, and love. Nearly rendered senseless, she was his only focus; there was nothing else.
"Shosanna."
She lifted her hips in encouragement, craving beyond measure all he had to give, and she wanted to give him the same in return. As their bodies eased into each other, adjusting to one another, Fredrick closed his eyes, allowing the feeling to carry him. Shosanna, too, joined him in his reverie, relishing the feel of his hardness, his length, and the weight of his body, pushing her into the mattress. Opening his eyes, Fredrick met her gaze, his face set in concentration. He moved; his first thrust enough to make them both cry out. Together, they found their rhythm; languid, yet ardent. Their eyes fixed on each other; they studied one another without a word, their bodies moving steadily together, speaking all they had left to silence.
Immersed in each other, they wanted, needed more. Pressing, thrusting himself deeper, harder, into and against her, Fredrick quickened the pace, and Shosanna was more than able to rise to his challenge. He was consumed with her, in the wholeness of loving her, of giving himself to her, to feeling all she had to give in return; Shosanna was everything. Fredrick bent his head, taking her mouth once more, her lips parting beneath his. Wrapping her arms around his back, she caressed, trailing her fingertips along to his biceps and feeling the firm, flexed muscle. Shosanna was wholly lost in Fredrick, in his body.
They both broke from the kiss, gasping, their breaths intermingling as he moved within her swiftly, completely. With his thrusts growing more forceful, Shosanna writhed beneath Fredrick, craving solidity. Her fingers straightening from where they curled around his biceps, she slid her hands up over his back and clung; she wanted this, wanted him, to be sore from his weight, to feel the full force of his release, for him to feel the strength of hers. His breath staggering, and body tensing, Shosanna wrapped her legs around him, holding him to her in a passionate embrace; he was not yet ready to let go, as her own climax was imminent.
His body shaking, Shosanna urged Fredrick on, pressing her heels into his lower back. Driving into her forcefully, powerfully, she rode every thrust, pushing back against him, clinging to him with desperation, a hunger she had not felt before; never before had she craved consummation. Both were left breathless, heated, their nerves spiraling; his thrusts growing more strenuous, aggressive.
This was what she wanted, what she needed, and Fredrick had to give it to her.
Every stroke, every thrust was deliberate, determined. Bracing herself against Fredrick, Shosanna met him stroke for stroke; moving with him and against him fervently. Her palms flat on his back, Shosanna could feel the muscle as it tensed and relaxed. A shiver coursed through her, as she could feel herself, right on the edge, and she could feel him; solid and pulsating. Lowering his head, Fredrick nuzzled her neck, his voice low against her throat; the dampness of his forehead and her own sweat mingling to create a sensational smoothness as his lips moved there,
"Shosanna…"
From beneath heavy lids, their eyes met; locked, their bodies slowed.
The way his voice trailed off, the way he looked into her eyes, spoke all that he could not. Shosanna flushed with heat; from her own rush of blood, from his body. She could smell his scent, her skin so alive and responsive, and her flesh quivered, pulsing and warm. Blood thrumming in her veins, her body hummed with pleasure, throbbed with desire. She waited, her breath hitching. Looking into his eyes, Shosanna found them filled with an emotion, a ferocity she had never seen there before.
Mercifully, Fredrick moved his hips, pushing forward; one final, inexorably hard thrust.
Quivering all over, her nerve endings unwound, and her perception shattered as heat pulsed through her, flooding her body and mind. Catching her breath, Shosanna clutched at Fredrick as she came, her back arching into his body and her hips bucking as indescribable sensations wracked through her, reeling and coalescing. With her brows knitting together from the intensity of her release, her skin flushing, and how fervid her petite body felt, writhing fiercely beneath him, Fredrick found her to be an absolutely beguiling sight. Crying out, Shosanna nearly wept out of relief, out of the profundity of all that she felt, in this moment, with him.
As she clenched around him, Fredrick, too, found his release; white-hot and blinding. His breath shortening, Shosanna could feel him, feel that he was ready. His body quaked with fervency and he cried out roughly as his hips thrust forward, rocking and pushing against her. She was amazed by the sight of him: his eyes shutting tightly, the simultaneous fragility and strength of his body as he came, and how, as if in veneration, his head bowed. No longer able to hold his own weight, Fredrick collapsed against Shosanna, his faced buried in her hair, his lips to her temple.
They were lost in the moment as it hung heavy between them. Leaning away from her just enough to bring his eyes back over her own, Fredrick brought his hand up to cup the side of her face; his expression far too complex to decipher. Shosanna, feeling him rising away from her, looked to him; eyes imploring, her hips lifting against his.
Fredrick could not refuse her.
He lowered himself back down, his body over hers, and together, they lay there; sore, exhausted, and thoroughly sated.
Fredrick lay curled into Shosanna's side, his head on her chest, his arm stretched over her midsection and his legs tangled with hers. Some time had passed since their lovemaking, and to Fredrick's protestations, Shosanna left bed only to retrieve her pack of cigarettes and matchbook. Now, she lay on her back with him, observing as smoke spiraled and dissipated above them as her other hand busied itself stroking through his mussed hair. The air was thick with the scent of the two lovers and tobacco, the atmosphere still heavy with the moment they had lost themselves within.
Her mind was still wandering.
Her eyes set back on the young man against her. She had never thought that she would ever make love with a Nazi, much less teach a virginal German War Hero how to.
She almost laughed.
Fredrick Zoller, despite wearing the uniform, was not one of them. One of them would not politely engage her in a conversation about film, they would not divulge such personal details of their lives, nor would they ever allow someone such as herself - be it Shosanna Dreyfus or Emmanuelle Mimieux - to see their vulnerabilities.
It did not matter to Shosanna if Landa had an older sister Helga, who loved him, or whether or not he truly believed the rhetoric the men he worked for espoused; her hatred for him was settled in the pit of her stomach, in the back of her mind. Fredrick Zoller was decidedly not like those men, not cut from the same cloth from men like Landa.
Her heart could not break for a man like Hans Landa.
He, along with the others, had burned to death in Le Gamaar.
Le Gamaar.
Marcel.
In all honesty, she was glad to see that he had survived. However, even if the two of them made it out alive together, they would not have lasted; the strain was already there, put upon them by a young soldier.
Sighing, Shosanna took a drag off her cigarette and brushed Fredrick's hair back from his face.
She held no regrets.
Drawing her eyes to the ceiling, Shosanna exhaled, watching as the smoke drifted and broke apart, reveling in the feel of Fredrick against her.
She loved the feel of his mouth against hers, the warm press of his flesh, his eyes wide with adoration. Most of all, she loved him.
Shosanna Dreyfus loved Fredrick Zoller.
It was all so simple, yet so complicated.
Overcome, she separated from him almost violently. Dazed, Fredrick awoke to find Shosanna hunched over the side of the bed, her back to him. Alarmed, he sat up; his voice was small, uneasy,
"Shosanna?"
She did not answer. Her hand was clamped over her mouth in a futile attempt to suppress those emotions that were ever-present, constantly threatening to surface. The words, though still difficult to articulate, were felt through to the core of her heart, within her bones. The extent of those feelings left her overawed and terrified; to begin to even contemplate the tremendousness of it could reduce her to tears.
Panic lanced through Fredrick; fearful that he had overstepped some boundary, that he had coerced her into something she did not want, he tried once more, overwrought,
"Shosanna?"
Sucking in a breath, she spoke, hoarsely, severely,
"I couldn't sleep."
The mattress dipping with his weight, Shosanna felt Fredrick at her back, his hand, warm and firm, on her shoulder; a soothing gesture.
The words, the tears, would not come. She was exasperated with herself.
Turning to face him, Shosanna was astounded at what she had found. His expression somber, he held in his eyes an empathy, a recognition, a familiarity. Shosanna and Fredrick had fully given of themselves to one another; he trembled in her arms, her name upon his lips like a mantra. What the two of them had was transcendent. It coursed through her, leaving her shaking; her mind committing to memory every line and curve of him, his every movement, his every touch.
Shosanna Dreyfus and Fredrick Zoller needed each other.
Nothing more had to be said. She sank back into Fredrick as he circled his arms around her waist and drew her back into bed; her cigarette butt slipping from her fingers and onto the floor. Settling against him, Shosanna closed her eyes as the two lay huddled together; his body protectively over hers, his arms solidly holding her. Inhaling deeply, Fredrick took in her scent, murmuring words of comfort and endearments against her skin in German. Shosanna could not speak the language, which he knew. There was, however, a string of words she was familiar with, breathed into her ear with exaltation,
"Ich liebe dich, Shosanna."
She smiled.
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This was unbelievably wonderful. There are no faults. If I went on for an hour, I could pinpoint all the perfect lines and references and actions and words.. but I may as well just say I'm in love with it all.
THIS!!! I honestly can't even come to any words to describe how much I am in love with this fic.
It both breaks my heart and makes me unbelievably happy to know this is EXACTLY what should have happened.
You are incredible!
Oh, Sho/Fred...
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I love hearing Daniel speak French, but I love the thought of Fredrick intimately speaking German to Shosanna, and I think I've weaseled it into nearly all of my Sho/Fred fic (even in RPF, when he spoke every language he knew). But I've yet to have him tell her he loves her in German, until this one. It's about time, right?
You are incredible!
Oh, Sho/Fred...
Aw, thanks. I just aim to give them something special with everything I write. Anything less would be a disservice.
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(Anonymous) 2010-04-25 04:34 am (UTC)(link)Keep up the fantastic work, and know that updates always brighten my day and are looked forward to!
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I didn't want to cross the line into the gratuitous, but detailing every touch and every emotion, I feel, helped to communicate the importance and necessity of their first time. As I get further into their traumas, their bond will help for the two of them to cope with their situation as they adjust to living outside of the shadow of the war and the occupation, which was all they knew.
I loved writing their film discussion, as indeed, it is what brought them together, in life and death. It was that first meeting outside of the theater where he got under her skin, so I enjoyed continuing that.
Again, thank you, as your support and feedback keeps me on my toes ♥
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(Anonymous) 2010-04-26 09:57 pm (UTC)(link)Btw, I adore your new icon- I love how happy and boyish he looks in that pic, and if the mood strikes you, I'd love to see a graphic of the screencap when he introduces her to Hellstrom and looks down at her, and there's just pure love in his eyes (I'll see if I can find the pic).
As always, much admiration and support!
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I love that face so much ♥ He's just so genuinely happy to see her and it's so sweet and naive as he really has no clue about what she had previously been through with Hellstrom. I actually am working on more graphics from that scene, of that wonderful moment he's gazing at her, along with when she's looking at him. I hope to get them posted tonight.
And again, thank you so much ♥
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Is it strange I loved the cinema talk more than the rest of it? It showed that they were starting to move forward, while still looking back - and they both show how tender and scared they both are about the enormity of their relationship.
Not saying the rest of it wasn't a) hot b) heartbreaking and c) YEAAHHH GET IT SHO AND FRED. This was so worth it, and you did them justice in droves. <333
"Just feel, Fredrick." It sums it up perfectly.
(Also, ILU for the Marion reference x84938439489389)
FOREVER MY FAVOURITE YOU ARE
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NOW YOU CAN SEE WHY I TOOK SO LONG TO EDIT AND POST IT.
Art being universal and IB showcasing the power of cinema, which is a strong undercurrent of Shosanna/Fredrick, it was fitting to have them discuss film. Film is a mutual love of theirs, so discussing it puts them both at ease and thus, everything flows naturally from there.
Film is a comfort for them, but it also held their past and future; it was the key to their fate. And so there they are, at a crossroads: their past was put behind them that day and their future begins the next.
Detailing every touch and every emotion was important to me because it was Fredrick's very first time, as well as Shosanna's first time with him. And aside from that, it was a consummation of their feelings; a realization of everything between them and an acknowledgement of their past, their future.
Can I just say that I'm proud of how their love scenes came out? I didn't want anything to cross into gratuitous smut, but I wanted enough detail to express everything about them, to show the absolute necessity of their consummation.
"Just feel, Fredrick." It sums it up perfectly.
He's always been himself with her, but as we've seen, when he's truly vulnerable with her, he's overwhelmed. But ultimately, as we've also seen, he trusts her completely. Shosanna knows this, of course, and Fredrick's able to break through to her. She was the instigator in the projection booth, and so she's the instigator here.
They're so insular, aren't they?
If I was going to make Sho a fan of the silent greats and the other talents of the '30s and '40s, I certainly couldn't leave out Marion, could I?
I just love Sho/Fred so much ♥ SO. MUCH.
FOREVER MY FAVOURITE YOU ARE
I DO WHAT I CAN TO BRING YOU SHO/FRED SHENANIGANS AND TO MAKE YOU HAPPY.
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but this is too amazing. &hearts&hearts
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and fredrick made me miss my own german speaking man. D:
Aw. Writing this (along with Daniel just existing) has made me want my own personal Fredrick.
♥
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(Anonymous) 2010-07-05 11:33 am (UTC)(link)And I just got to say:
"I am afraid that I have effectively ruined the evening," he quipped.
Made me awwwww. He's so adorably awkward.
I adore them. Thank you so much for your fanfics.
<3
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I love them to such an insane degree, it's almost unbelievable. They're both just a couple of kids in the grand scheme of things, and I love how they manage to affect each other in ways that others cannot. They're just so human and so damaged, and what they have is so completely fragile and beautiful.
And as I've learned with writing Fredrick: when in doubt, make him awkward, make him vulnerable. That's what I love about him (and writing him): he's very open with his emotions when with Shosanna.
You're very, very welcome! I want to do what I can with them and to give them their voice, and I love knowing that there are others out there who are just as moved by them as I am. I'm working on part 7, which has been a bit difficult, as Fredrick's traumas have to be addressed, but I will get it posted this week.
♥