Work Text:
Szpilman's was the first to wake up, and looking to his side he saw the peaceful, sleeping form of Hosenfeld, tucked comfortably under a pile of thick blankets and a comforter. Yawning softly, Szpilman's tried to exit the bed gently, so as not to wake his slumbering companion. But as fate would have it, Hosenfeld was a light sleeper. Must have been all those years in the German army.
Hosenfeld groaned, displeased, and an arm quickly reached out from under the mess of blankets and wrapped around Szpilman's waist and pulled him back down into the bed. Never once opening his eyes, Hosenfeld pulled Szpilman's closer to him and started nuzzling his nose into the back of Szpilman's neck. “Liebe,” breathed Hosenfeld. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Work,” replied Szpilman's, giggling as Hosenfeld nuzzled a particularly ticklish spot on the back of his neck.
“Oh, really,” replied Hosenfeld, breathing on the back of Szpilman's neck, causing pleasurable sensations to surge through him. Slowly the thumb that rested heavy on Szpilman's hip started to rub slow, soothing circles across his skin.
“Ja,” whispered Szpilman's as a shiver of pleasure over took his body and he found himself leaning back into Hosenfeld’s soft caresses.
Shortly after Hosenfeld’s family was killed in a car bombing, Szpilman's had moved in with him. But this was not how Szpilman's had ever expected this situation to turn out. It had all started out so simple. A friend helping out a friend. When Hosenfeld’s family had died, Szpilman's heart went out to the kind German captain. Not only could Szpilman's relate, but he also found it a terrible crime that such a kind man’s family was taken from him so swiftly and brutally. And even though he did not know this man’s family personally, he shed tears for them. For Hosenfeld.
Hosenfeld had just lost his family and so had Szpilman's. Szpilman's had no where to go and Hosenfeld was in need of companionship. So, Hosenfeld had invited the lonely, homeless Jew to live with him, and even offered to buy Szpilman's all his necessities. And in return all Szpilman's had to do was take care of the house, keep Hosenfeld company, and play the piano for him, of course. This came as a surprise to Szpilman's, but having no where to go and Nazis executing Jews left and right, he needed a safe place to hide, and what safer place was there to hide than with a captain of the German army? And he supposed, that this man he considered his friend, needed a friend now more than anything in his life. Someone to help keep his mind off things. Someone to keep him from falling into depression. And someone to just be there and understand.
The first month of living with Hosenfeld in his big, empty house, took a bit of adjusting to, but once Szpilman's got used to all the space and silence he started to relax a bit. Not much, though, considering that if anyone found him in Hosenfeld’s house, he and Hosenfeld would both be executed. Szpilman's found himself always on guard and ready to flee at a moment’s notice. And he only ever truly relaxed when Hosenfeld was around. He felt genuinely safe with Hosenfeld watching his back, which Szpilman's found odd considering that Hosenfeld was a Nazi captain and he a Jew.
Szpilman's had known that the death of his family had taken a big toll on Hosenfeld, and he also knew that a loss that substantial did not come without consequences. After three months of watching Hosenfeld very closely and never once seeing him shed one tear or say one thing about his family, Szpilman's knew he was close to bursting. If he kept bottling his feelings up inside like he was, he was going to have a breakdown of some sort that would be both emotionally and physically devastating to him. And Szpilman's should know, because that was what had happened to him.
And sure enough after three months of living together, Hosenfeld started having severe night terrors. At first, Szpilman's left Hosenfeld to deal with his nightmares by himself, letting him sleep through them, and then in the morning acting as if he had heard nothing, giving the man some semblance of his dignity, because some of the things he heard while Hosenfeld was in the throws of his nightmares had Szpilman's heart aching in sorrow. But one night, while Hosenfeld was having one of his more intense episodes, Szpilman's could no longer take his screaming and pleas anymore. It pained Szpilman's to hear a man as strong as Hosenfeld cry and plea like a small frightened child. It pulled at his every heart string and had him wanting to cradle Hosenfeld and shelter him from the world. To whisper comforting words into his ear, and to ease his every pain.
So, Szpilman's jumped out of his bed and quickly ran to Hosenfeld’s bedroom which was just down the hall. Letting himself in, Szpilman's stopped dead in his tracks as he laid eyes on Hosenfeld. His face was drawn up into a look of pained anguish. His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. And his knuckles had turned bone white from where he was clutching the sheets so tightly.
“Bitte! Nein! Bitte!” Hosenfeld whispered. Szpilman's approached him with extreme caution, knowing that a man and a military trained one at that, while in the throws of a nightmare was a very dangerous man. Soon Hosenfeld’s small whispering pleas turned into screams of fear and anger. He thrashed about wildly, almost hitting Szpilman's in the chin with his knee once. And after he had settled down and another set of tremors shook through him, Szpilman's tried to pin him down by wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him to the bed.
“Wake up, please!” Szpilman's yelled, but his pleas fell on deaf ears and Hosenfeld began to thrash about again. Szpilman's tried to hold him down, to prevent him from hurting himself, but to no prevail, Hosenfeld was just physically stronger than him and he was soon thrown off the man and onto the floor. Szpilman's soon gave up on this method of trying to wake Hosenfeld, but quickly remembered an old technique that his mother used to use whenever he was younger and had a nightmare.
Picking himself up, Szpilman's quickly jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen. Taking only a moment to get his bearings about him in the dark, he made a quick dash toward the kitchen cabinets and proceeded to take an empty glass from them and fill it up with water. He then took a clean rag from under the sink and damped it with some cool water. Szpilman's then took these two items back upstairs and into Hosenfeld’s bedroom with him.
Szpilman's carefully placed the glass on the nightstand next to Hosenfeld’s bed and then continued to climb into the bed where a still nightmare encased Hosenfeld slept. After situating himself into a sitting position on the bed, Szpilman's pulled Hosenfeld closer to him and started to whisper words of comfort into his ear. He could see the stress lines on Hosenfeld’s face slowly ease away. Szpilman's tried his best to re-enact the actions that his mother had done whenever he or his brother would have a nightmare. He cradled Hosenfeld softly as he wiped away the sweat from his face with the damp rag, and slowly he rocked him back and forth, like a mother would do with her new born child. A few minutes of this and he had stopped thrashing and screaming completely, and seemed to have fallen into a peaceful sleep.
Just as Szpilman's had decided that Hosenfeld no longer needed his assistance and was about to sneak back to his bedroom and act like this night had never happened; Hosenfeld awoke with a start. For a moment neither knew what to do so they opted for just staring at each other in complete silence. But after what felt like an eternity, Szpilman's had to finally break the silence, for he feared that if he didn’t soon that it would suffocate him. “Are you thirsty?” He asked, tentatively, his voice barely over a whisper.
Hosenfeld shook his head slightly as if to pull himself out of his stupor before staring up at Szpilman's and answering him. “Ja.” Szpilman's reached across the bed and swiped the glass of water off the nightstand and then handed it to Hosenfeld. “Dankeschön,” replied Hosenfeld as he gratefully took the glass form Szpilman's.
“You were screaming and wouldn’t wake up,” stated Szpilman's, bluntly, feeling like he owed Hosenfeld an explanation for why he was in his bed, instead of his own.
“I see,” was all Hosenfeld said after he had downed the whole glass of water in one go. All that screaming had made his voice hoarse and scratchy.
“Well then, I should be getting back to my own bed now,” stated Szpilman's, slipping off Hosenfeld’s bed and heading for the door. “Goodnight.”
“You too,” replied Hosenfeld, dumbly, feeling like he should say something more, but not knowing what.
For the next few nights Hosenfeld would have the same nightmare and every time he would scream, Szpilman's would come running to his side, ready to sooth away his sufferings. Szpilman's would stay with him until his nightmares were gone and Hosenfeld would awake, then he would make his way back to his own bed. It had become so routine to them by now that Szpilman's had started leaving a pitcher of water and a glass on the nightstand next to Hosenfeld’s bed.
One day, as it was getting late in the evening and the two had just finished eating, Hosenfeld watched in silence as Szpilman's washed and put away the dinner dishes. Hosenfeld noticed that Szpilman's was moving a bit slower than usual lately, and also knew that it was because of him and his nightmares. If Szpilman's didn’t need to come rushing to his side every night and spend an hour or so lulling him back to sleep, then he wouldn’t be so tired and sluggish in the mornings. Hosenfeld felt truly bad about causing his friend so much distress.
After watching Szpilman's back for a moment longer as he towel dried some silverware, Hosenfeld made up his mind and knew what he had to do. “Szpilman's,” he called.
The only response he received was a curt, “Huh?”
“Sleep with me,” finished Hosenfeld, his face and voice as neutral and emotionless as if he had just asked something mundane and unimportant.
Silverware clattered loudly to the floor as Szpilman's dropped the fork he was drying in his surprise. He quickly turned around to stare at Hosenfeld, whose face remained unfazed. “I’m sorry,” whispered Szpilman's as he bent down and retrieved the fork, “but for a moment I thought you had just asked me to sleep with you, but I must have been mistaken.” Szpilman's turned back around toward the sink and started to re-wash the fork.
“You were not,” replied Hosenfeld as casually as if he were talking about the weather.
“What…” stuttered Szpilman's, turning back around once more to stare at Hosenfeld.
Hosenfeld cut him off quickly. “Just listen to me. Neither of us are going to get any sleep if I keep waking you up with my screaming and then you having to wake me up to stop my screaming.” Hosenfeld paused a moment to analyze Szpilman's face which looked pale as a sheet and completely dumbfounded. “Let’s just try this out for one night and see what happens, and then afterward if you feel uncomfortable, we’ll go back to our old routine.”
Szpilman's continued to stare at Hosenfeld with a bewildered look on his face and the only thought that crossed his mind was, “Is he serious?” But as he thought more about it he realized that Hosenfeld had a really good point, and that lately Szpilman's had been feeling more and more tired during the day time.
Szpilman's took another moment to gather himself before giving Hosenfeld a small, forced smile and saying, “Okay. I don’t see why not.”
The night seemed to approach too quickly for the two men as they got ready for bed and then proceeded to stand awkwardly around Hosenfeld’s bed. Hosenfeld had a big enough bed for them both to sleep comfortably in, but it was mainly the idea of two grow men willing getting into bed together that bothered them. Homosexuality was deeply frowned upon in almost every community and religion, their own included.
After a few awkward moments and delay tactics, Hosenfeld finally decided to get this over with and climbed into the bed first. After fixing himself under the covers and to one side of the bed, he politely invited Szpilman's to join him. Szpilman's looked reluctant, at first, like a skittish rabbit ready to flee, but after a silent moment he gingerly got into the bed.
At first both men stayed as far away from the other as possible, but sometime during the night, they each had slowly gravitated closer to the other. And by morning they both were sleeping so snugly together that not even a thin sheet of paper could be slipped in between them. But the most amazing thing that happened was the fact that Hosenfeld slept peacefully throughout the whole night.
The next morning was just as awkward for Hosenfeld and Szpilman's as the night before. Szpilman's was the first to wake, and the sight that greeted him both shocked and embarrassed him. He was lying face to face with Hosenfeld, with Hosenfeld arms wrapped tightly around him and his own legs wrapped around Hosenfeld’s. Szpilman's blushed deeply at his predicament, embarrassed to find that he was a cuddler in his sleep. Hosenfeld’s cuddling could be explained. He did once have a wife and Szpilman's was sure they cuddled at night, but his cuddling was just embarrassing.
Szpilman's tried to gently pry Hosenfeld’s arms off of him, and again he cursed Hosenfeld’s light sleeping tendencies, because as soon as he made a move Hosenfeld’s eyes snapped open. For a few agonizing moments both men stayed perfectly still, neither looking the other in the eye. Szpilman's stared intently at Hosenfeld’s collar bone that jutted out over the collar of his nightshirt and Hosenfeld stared at some point over Szpilman's’s head. But Hosenfeld was the first to get over the shock of the situation and quickly untangled his arms from around Szpilman's. When Hosenfeld unwrapped his arms, Szpilman's unwrapped his legs and they both moved to the far opposite ends of the bed.
“Um,” stuttered Szpilman's, “so how did you sleep?”
“Oh,” started Hosenfeld, just remembering what events took place that had them ending up in this situation. He quickly cleared his throat before continuing. “Very well. How did you sleep?”
At Hosenfeld’s question, Szpilman's had to stop and think very carefully. Even though it was hard for him to, at first, get to sleep and waking up was embarrassing, he couldn’t honestly say that he had an unpleasant night of sleep. “Really good,” replied Szpilman's, honestly, as he gave Hosenfeld a sleepy early morning grin.
And that is how it started. Just an innocent act to help a friend. From that day on Szpilman's and Hosenfeld started sleeping in the same bed together. But after a while of sharing a bed together, Hosenfeld started to have very intriguing dreams. He had stopped having nightmares, but was now have very intimate dreams about Szpilman's.
Hosenfeld ran his fingers over smooth, pale skin and watched as goose bumps rose in his fingers’ wake. He heard a gasp escape soft, pink lips as he laid a gentle kiss on the pulse point of a beautiful, long neck.
“Wilm,” he heard his name being called by the person under him and he smirked, happily. He was happy that he was having this affect on him. Hosenfeld then looked down into dark brown eyes that were clouded with lust and felt himself grow harder.
“You’re so beautiful,” murmured Hosenfeld as he tangled his fingers into Szpilman's dark locks…
Hosenfeld awoke with a start, confused as to where he was. He sat up quickly and realized that he was in his bed and that it was approaching dawn, because he could see the orange glow of the morning light come seeping through under his blinds. He looked over and saw Szpilman's sleeping soundly next to him, seemingly un-bothered by Hosenfeld’s jerky movements. Hosenfeld was happy that he hadn’t woken Szpilman's, but was also mortified at the predicament that the dream had left him in. He had to escape from Szpilman's for a bit and right himself.
For the next couple of days Hosenfeld couldn’t sleep, but for Szpilman's he would pretend to be asleep. Then when Szpilman's had fallen asleep, Hosenfeld would watch him. It quickly became Hosenfeld’s favorite pass time for when he couldn’t sleep himself, which was quickly turning into never. He couldn’t trust himself while he was asleep to not do something that would have Szpilman's running from him in fear.
As Hosenfeld lay there at night, watching Szpilman's sleep, serenely, he learned that not only does Szpilman's like to cuddle up close to him, but he, himself, had grown so accustomed to it that if he wakes up without Szpilman's in his arms, he would begin to grow concerned. Hosenfeld had to laugh at himself as he drew Szpilman's into his arms one night. To think such an innocent act would have him pining over the very person whose only intention was to help and comfort him in the only way he could. Oh, the irony! The very thing he wants most and he cannot have, and yet, there it was sleeping in his arms every night.
Finally, after six sleepless nights Hosenfeld decided to confess his feelings to Szpilman's and to endure whatever may come. Because he was sure that nothing could be worse than the emotional distress of having Szpilman's in his bed but not being able to touch him was wracking on his mental state right now.
One morning as he and Szpilman's sat at the table, both enjoying their cups of coffee, Hosenfeld abruptly stood up and walked over to the other side of the table to where Szpilman's sat. He then took the chair that Szpilman's was sitting in by the armrests and turned it till Szpilman's was facing him. Szpilman's sat stock still with both hands locked in a death grip around his coffee mug.
“Szpilman's,” said Hosenfeld in a commanding tone and a determined look in his eyes.
“Yes,” stuttered Szpilman's, petrified as to what he had done wrong to enact the wrath of Captain Wilm Hosenfeld. At least, that is what he believed he had done.
“I need to tell you something important, but…” Hosenfeld paused mid-sentence to try and collect his thoughts, but no words would form in his mind that would let him describe correctly how he felt about Szpilman's. I love you sounded too cliché and he doubted Szpilman's would believe him. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Hosenfeld let out a heavy sigh. But before Hosenfeld could continue, Szpilman's cut in.
“I’m sorry,” stated Szpilman's, quickly standing up and still holding his cup of coffee in both his hands, “I see that I have over stayed my welcome and that I’ve caused you much anxiety. I’ll leave.”
“No!” Yelled Hosenfeld, gripping Szpilman's shoulders and gently pushing him back down into the chair. “Sit back down, please.” Szpilman's obliged and allowed himself to be pushed back into his seat.
For a few minutes neither man said anything, but looking into Szpilman's eyes, Hosenfeld realized that there were no words to correctly describe how he felt and that the only way he would get his message across to Szpilman's was to show him. He just hoped that Szpilman's wouldn’t push him away or be disgusted with him and leave him alone again. He didn’t think he could handle that. Gathering up his courage, he gripped the sides of Szpilman's face, and in one swift motion captured Szpilman's lips with his own.
There was nothing graceful or alluring about their first kiss, in fact, it was quite rough and sloppy. And it couldn’t really be considered a kiss, since there was no actually movement of the lips. It was more like skin being pressed against skin. But to Hosenfeld it felt like a bomb had just exploded in his gut, and he soon realized that after this no other kiss would ever be good enough again.
Hosenfeld pulled away from Szpilman's, releasing his face and moving back to give Szpilman's some breathing space. And if Szpilman's didn’t look petrified before, he sure as heck did now. “Szpilman's?” Questioned Hosenfeld, cautiously. Szpilman's looked up at him with wide eyes and Hosenfeld was sure he had just done something terribly wrong then. But what he didn’t know was that Szpilman's wasn’t scared of him, but of himself and the fact that he liked the kiss. A lot, in fact.
“So,” answered Szpilman's, clearing his throat, “is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Ja.”
“Well… I…” Szpilman's stammered, “It was enjoyable.” Szpilman's blushed a deep red as he looked down at the coffee mug in his hands and softly whispered, “And if it’s agreeable with you, I would like to do it again.” The only thing Hosenfeld could do was grin like a fool as he knelt down in front of Szpilman's and pulled him into another endearing kiss.
Their first time together was a bit awkward and confusing, as it was Hosenfeld’s first time with a man and Szpilman's first time, ever. At first, every time Hosenfeld would touch him, Szpilman's would flinch away. But Hosenfeld was patient and took it slow with Szpilman's, never forcing him to do anything that he was uncomfortable with. And after their first couple of experimental kisses, they both grew braver and started to explore each others mouths with their tongues. And with each moan that escaped Szpilman's throat, Hosenfeld grew more and more aroused, and the fact that Hosenfeld was going to be Szpilman's first was just making him ache with longing even more. Because it was Szpilman's first time, Hosenfeld wanted to take it slow with him, so as not to scare him away. But with each noise Szpilman's made and every move and arch his body did, it made taking it slow very, very difficult.
Heavy panting and the smell of sweat laced the room as Hosenfeld’s larger, muscular body hovered over Szpilman's smaller, slimmer body lying on the couch that they decided would have to do for their activities, when they silently agreed that walking up twenty-one steps and down a hallway was too long of a journey to make for a bed.
“Szpilman's,” breathed out Hosenfeld, huskily, “I don’t want to hurt you or scare you away. So, if this is too much, tell me right now and I’ll stop.”
“No,” replied Szpilman's, shaking his head as he stared up at Hosenfeld, “I want this just as badly as you do. I’m just nervous.”
“Okay,” reassured Hosenfeld as he placed a chaste kiss to Szpilman's lips, trying to calm his nerves.
Even though Hosenfeld was the one who initiated this, he had no idea on what to do. The only information he had on the subject were the stories he had heard about what some male prisoners did to other male prisoners in jail, and that wasn’t pretty. He didn’t want to do anything like that to Szpilman's. So, he decided to just take it slow and let his instincts guide him.
Hosenfeld made short work of his shirt as he leaned down and took Szpilman's lips with his own, loving how they parted easily under his tongue. He soon felt deft hands move under his shirt and help him push his button up shirt off his shoulders. And those same hands gripped tightly onto his shoulders as Szpilman's arched up off the couch and ground their groins together, showing Hosenfeld exactly how badly he wanted him.
Hosenfeld gasped and had to break their searing kiss as a wave of electricity washed over him and his vision erupted into sparks of light. He never knew how much of an effect Szpilman's really had on him, until now. He looked down at Szpilman's and decided that he liked the thoroughly shagged look he was sporting. Red, swollen lips, dark, dilated pupils, and lips slightly parted as he panted for air. Yes, he decided, he liked this look on Szpilman a lot.
Hosenfeld slowly gripped the end of Szpilman's shirt and waited patiently for his consent before continuing. He looked up at Szpilman's with his hands grasping the hem of his shirt as Szpilman's swallowed audibly, but nodded his consent.
He pulled the garment over the young pianist’s head before throwing it somewhere across the room, where it would lay lost and forgotten for the time being. Hosenfeld took in the expanse of Szpilman's pale chest with both his hands and eyes as he lightly brushed his fingers down the length of his chest, starting at his collar bone and ending at his navel. He felt a shiver come from Szpilman's when he stopped and watched as a look of pure pleasure came across his face.
“Do you like that?” Hosenfeld asked, huskily, as he gave Szpilman's a self-satisfied smirk. Szpilman's face turned crimson from embarrassment as he nodded his head. “Good, because I like doing that to you.” Hosenfeld slowly ran his fingers over one of Szpilman's nipples, causing him to arch his back off the couch again and moan loudly.
Hosenfeld started to place gentle kisses down Szpilman's long, swan like neck, and he heard him make a low whining sound in his throat as he rubbed their needs together once more. “You’re so beautiful,” murmured Hosenfeld, biting down at the juncture of where shoulder met neck. “So beautiful.”
Szpilman's had only ever heard his given name said by Hosenfeld a hand full of times before, and hearing it come spilling from his lips now had him moaning Hosenfeld’s own name in return.
“Wilm,” Szpilman's whispered, hotly, against his ear as he ran his hands up the inside of Hosenfeld’s thighs, which caused Hosenfeld to stop the attention he was giving to Szpilman's neck. Hosenfeld looked up into Szpilman's eyes when he felt the buckle to his belt being undone, but Szpilman's stopped when Hosenfeld looked at him. “Too fast?”
“No. No,” Hosenfeld reassured, “But are you sure?” Szpilman's only reply was to undo the button to his pants and pull down the zipper. Hosenfeld swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as Szpilman's very talented hands reached inside his pants and took him completely into his hand.
Hosenfeld groaned deeply as Szpilman's gripped him firmly, and Hosenfeld mentally decided that playing the piano wasn’t the only thing that those hands were good at. Soon, though, Hosenfeld had the urge to feel Szpilman's against him. To have his bare skin flush against his own. To feel every twist and tense his body made under him. He swiftly reached down to Szpilman's own pants and started to quickly undo them, but after three failed attempts at getting the zipper down Hosenfeld got frustrated and just yanked his pants down, underwear and all.
Szpilman's gasped as his erection was freed from his pants. Hosenfeld captured his lips once again and removed Szpilman's hand from his own pants, before pulling them off, and rubbing their bare erections together. A few more minutes of this and they both reached their climaxes.
“Wilm,” whined Szpilman's, struggling to release himself from Hosenfeld’s vice like grip. “I need to get to work.” Hosenfeld groaned, but eventually released Szpilman's. “Dankeschön, Liebe,” replied Szpilman's, placing a small kiss on Hosenfeld’s forehead before slipping off the bed.
“But,” said Hosenfeld, setting up in the bed as he watched Szpilman's slip into his pants, “would you play me a song before you go.”
Szpilman's turned to look at him as he pulled out a clean shirt from his dresser. “Okay,” he replied, placing on his shirt and walking over to the baby grand piano that was situated to the side of their bedroom.
He softly set his fingers to work, picking out the right keys as they gracefully slid over the black and white rectangles and perfectly tapped out Beethoven’s Für Elise .
-Das Ende-
-Owari-
-Fin-
-End-