#◈ // ❛ to be called anew -- ( & he craves the thrill of conquest. )

[brittanythescrivener]

Love Like White Lightning - Inglourious Basterds - Chapter Three

1947

At a little after 5:00 p.m., Hans stood at the rear of the main sanctuary of the Old South Church, his hands folded tightly in front of him.  He wore a finely-tailored navy suit with a pale blue oxford and a silken navy tie with an expertly-tied windsor knot.  

If Hans had been told five years ago that he was even considering the idea of marrying, he wouldn't have believed it.  He had never been content with the idea of choosing only one woman.  He considered the art of seduction one of his many talents, and in his former life, he’d been known to be a bit of a womanizer, his conquests including actresses, models, and the wives of powerful politicians and the like.  

From the day he met her, he knew Charlotte was different from the rest. Before she coaxed him out of his home, the people on the island made nasty assumptions about him.  (Assumptions that were mostly true, but hurtful nonetheless.)  She had been kind to him despite how he’d been marked and despite what everyone else was saying about him.  She had pulled him out of a depression and into the world again.  She gave him the chance to start anew, and for that he would be ever thankful.  

Hans slid his hands into his pockets, and his fingertips brushed against the thin gold band he was going to be sliding onto Charlotte’s finger at any moment.  The ring was simple with a single square diamond set atop a narrow gold band.  It weighed nothing physically, but it weighed quite heavily on his mind at that very moment.

He proposed to her on a night much like this one.  A steamy summer day on the island had given way to dark and threatening skies.  It was unusually hot, and a day like that almost always ended in a storm.  The winds blew in from the sea, sending waves crashing to the rocky shores and foam slipping across the sandy beaches.  The skies turned dark and ominous, ready to open up and drench the island in cool summer rain.

It was the night that he was being honored at the local university.  He had been offered a professorship there, an honor that he’d graciously accepted.  He’ll never forget how she looked when she appeared at the top of the stairs in a gown with an intricate, silver lace bodice that hugged her body down to her hips.  A silky skirt poured along the floor in a crimson pool as she sauntered down the steps toward him.  Her auburn hair was done up in pin curls, and her lips were painted a bright shade of red.

When the gala had drawn to a close, it was thundering, and lightning lit up the sky off in the distance.  Hans raised his glass of champagne and said, “I would like to propose a toast to all of my gracious colleagues.”  He smiled widely and said, “And on a more personal level, to Charlotte Redman.  I have had the pleasure of knowing this wonderful, intelligent woman since I arrived here almost two years ago.  In forty-seven years of life, I’ve never found someone I simply couldn’t see myself living without.  I love you.”

He drank from his glass and said, “I think it was Dickens who wrote, ‘What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell; what I mean is, that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace.  This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me.’”

Hans dropped onto one knee.  “Charlotte Mae Redman,” he said.  “Will you be my wife?”

He hurried Charlotte to his car, and they sped back to the east end of Fair Street just as the storm was making landfall.

Hans carried her up the sidewalk and into his home, kicking the door shut with his foot.  What happened from there was a whirlwind of hungry kisses and bodies crashing against each other like the waves pounding the shore just blocks from the house.

As the wind pounded against the clapboard house, they fell into bed, Charlotte’s slender legs winding around his back as he knelt between her thighs.  She slid her hand around the nape of his neck, drawing him closer, and his lips fell against hers.

And suddenly came the gentle voice of the old bishop.  “Mr. Landa?”

Hans looked out across the sanctuary and realized that all of the pews were empty.  He and the bishop were the only two left standing at the altar.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.  “She’s not coming.  Is she?”

“It has been almost an hour, my son,” the bishop said.

Hans’ hands dropped to his sides.  He was coming to realize the repercussions of his actions just days before.  One lapse in judgement.

The girl had made him feel young and adventurous again.  He found himself craving the thrill of the hunt.  She’d had her sights set on him since the first day she sat down in his classroom at the university.  She always lounged in her chair, her slim legs crossed in front of her, and nibbled on the end of her pencil as she listened to his lectures each and every day.

At first, it was easy to rebuff the girl’s advances, but by the end of the semester, he realized he needed to escape as quickly as he could to avoid her almost daily flirtation.  By that point, he was an angsty mess.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was the day she followed him into the restroom and locked the door behind her.  He was rinsing his face with cold water when he looked up to see her reflection in the mirror.  He turned to scold her for such nonsense behavior, but she pushed him back against the sink and thrust her mouth to his, muffling him in an instant.  

She was not bashful, but commanding, as she teased his tongue with her own.  She tasted like something sweet, something he couldn’t quite identify.

“I am getting married in three days,” Hans said.  “I can’t be doing this.”  His brain knew what he was doing was wrong, but his body didn’t care.  

She pressed her palm against the front of his pants and said, “Then let me make your last three days as a bachelor the most memorable three days of your life.”

Hans’s brain was not functioning at full capacity when he led her to his home, nor was it when he allowed her to undress him in the middle of his kitchen.  

As he stared at the exquisite body of the girl, he knew he’d made a grave mistake, but he feared it was already too late to turn back—he’d already gone too far.  He already possessed the mens rea, the guilty mind; he was already well on his way to be being a cheater.

When she fell to her knees and took him into her mouth, all reason left him.  He leaned back against the counter and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.  A groan escaped his lips as her movements quickened.

His breath became ragged, and he thrust his hips forward and gripped the edge of the table.  

“Mein gott,” he muttered as his muscles seized and he threatened to spill into her.

He hadn’t heard the front door open.  He hadn’t heard Charlotte calling his name as she walked through the darkened house.  As he lifted his head, he saw Charlotte standing in the doorway, her face frozen with horror.  It was a look he will never forget.

[fellegend]

@cohrode

        “ LORD LEON ! ”

& ONWARD, he would advance, pursuing the man under whom he serves & he would warn an urgent caution in their travels. Suddenly, would two hands find themselves at Leon’s shoulders as Odin would find a static surge from his back, a jump born of a fear however unnecessary -- perhaps he is more affected by the rustling of nearby nature than the prince, himself. Perhaps, most positively.

            “ Do you hear the low mumbling of darkness’ dwellings... ? Evil-doers who exist within the land, disguised as none other than ... that bush. Please, stand back as I quell this dastard of the night ! ”