Panzerfaust

Chapter 22 - I Do, Don't You

December 6th, 1944, Berlin, Greater German Reich

warning: light NSFW

It's around six in the morning, weak winter sunbeams breaking through the lush curtains, highlighting the woman above him. Her body presses against his, sharp fingertips grazing against the tender flesh of his neck, pussy tightening around his length with each trust.

'Do you enjoy being fucked by me, Commander Skorzeny?' 

Otto growls deeply against her, chest vibrating and rubs her clit even harder. She grinds against his hand, craving more of his touch as waves of pleasure rolls through them. She got so receptive of his pillow talk, he bet she hadn't the slightest clue of how much this turned him on. 

'I want nothing more than to spend several hours between your legs, tasting your sweet little cunt.' Speeding up his fingers, Sophia mewls as he continues his agonizing torture. 'To watch you squirm around me, hear you moan my name.'

He can feel her orgasm building up, clenching on his relentless cock inside her, making her arch her back. He kisses her deeply then, stealing the last breath from her lips before her climax. 

'Come for me, Frau Skorzeny.' And she does, taking him with her along the path of ecstasy, filling her to the brink with his seed. Slumping down on his sweaty, spent body, Sophia plays with the coarse hair on his chest until their breathing is even once again.

'I am not Frau Skorzeny yet.'

'You'll be in a few hours, do not fret.'

'I'm not nervous, which is strange because I am usually uptight about the stupidest things.' She stands up, yawning and stretching her muscles like her Macskacicó. 'In a couple of hours, I'll sign an official document in a big white dress of what I've known for some time now; that I belong with you.'

'Had to get the State involved so you cannot simply just walk out on me.' The cushion flies straight into his laughing face before she disappears behind the closing door. 

They marry just after noon, in a traditional Schutzstaffel ceremony in Charlottenburg; Otto's best man and the officiator across them is Obergruppenführer Ernst Kaltenbrunner, head of the Kripo department. Emil Edelsheim stands behind her daughter clad in an all-white; the only family from the bride's side. 

Otto just couldn't wrap his mind around why she didn't wanted the little niece to attend; he missed the little minx and he knew she did too. 

'I do not think it would be safe for her. Because of the air raids.' She said when he brought it up again and again. 'That's my decision, Otto, as her main guardian, I deem it safer for her to stay in Geneva. I ask you to respect that.' 

Skorzeny's thoughts are wandering as he half heartedly listens to Ernst's speech about loyalty and tries to contain his laughter; almost all officers present had extramarital affairs, his friend blabbering about fidelity included. Sophie catches his amused gaze and squeezes his hand in hers, wrapped in a red ribbon under their oath, winking. Isn't just this whole scenario a fucking show?

And an expensive one. Sophia's gown is made of warm white silk, cape lined with fur against the winter winds, golden hair done up with diamonds shaped like the snowflakes fluttering outside in the cold air. Fifty-five guests, only the closest of Otto's circle wined and dined in a gesture of absolute luxury; even if Sophia would have rather spend it on feeding those who really need it. 

But it wasn't an option now; Magda Göbbels' circle drew his little wife in and it would have been rude not to invite the Propaganda minister just to save money. 

The banquet hosted started with Tafelspitz; half the officers being Austrian, it was a great choice from the Hostess, not to push a start with an often heavily seasoned Hungarian goulash as Hochzeitssuppe. They continued with beef roulade and cabbage rolls - and for the more daring - trout in spicy paprika sauce. For the vegetarians - the bride's favourite - baked Italian styled eggplants. Otto decided to miss out on the Hochzeitstorte entirely - except from a bite from his wife's plate. If he wants to fit into his winter uniform, he really needs to cut back on comfort food; he still regularly ate with Sophia to keep her appetite in check and it was doing no good for his waistline. 

'Die entführte Braut! Let's kidnap the bride!' Sebastian Burghardt shouts, with red wine-painted cheeks over the leftovers of the banquet. 

'Ah, Basti, this bride was kidnapped already when she left Budapest!' 

Sophia stops mid-sway in Baron von Fölkersam's arms and Emil Edelsheim almost chokes on the Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. There is a long breath of silence until Ernst Kaltenbrunner motions the Hauptmann to twirl the bride on with the Vienese waltz. Without any commotion the offending officer is removed from the venue and the rest of the night flows on without any hiccups. 

'He is an important man, isn't he? Herr Kaltenbrunner.' Sophia asks sitting on their bed, as Otto is pulling out the precious gems from her curls before she can give into sleep. 

It's way past two into the next day and she already fell asleep in the car once; he is sure it's only his hands that are keeping her upright. The winter night is shining through the high windows, giving the room an almost daylight brightness. Snowflakes are dancing in the cold air outside, as if it wouldn't matter if they reach the ground or not, the only thing what matters is the journey downwards.

'One of the most powerful men on the continent.' He answers nonchalantly, slipping her out of the silky dress before tucking - now - Sophia Skorzeny into their bed. 

'I'm glad you're friends with him.' She murmurs into the cushion. 'I would hate to have him as an enemy.' 

Strumbannführer Skorzeny lights up as soon as his feet is on the street, growing piles of snow squaking under his boots. Sophia is asleep in their apartment above, with a tired, but content smile on her face as her husband slips out into the winter night. He is waiting for him under the dimmed streetlight of the corner, huffing on his own tobacco, blowing smoke above his head.

'So?' Otto asks into the winter night, wind picking up and carrying away his question.

'So my sources say the Mädchen is still in Geneva.' Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner answers. 'What else were you expecting?'

'I... don't know.' 

The wind is blowing ice into both of their face but neither of them bothers to turn away.

'I didn't wanted to tell you this tonight.' His old friend starts hesitantly. 'But I think you need to know this. I'm in contact with the leader of the recently estabilished Gestapo in the United States. And...'

'And?'

'And I asked to confirm the birth certificate of the little niece.' His old friend's face switches that one of sympathy. 'Oti, there is no record that Harold van Buren and Clara Edelsheim had any common child born. Gina is not her niece.'

Notes

'Kidnapping the bride' is a german tradition; during the dinner the groom's friends leave with a consent bride to frequent the bars the groom used to go to with his pals. The groom has to find the renegade group and pay for their expenses.