Love & Hate

CODE: T (set in the Trench Rats/Tunnel Rats storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): Both scenes: The Trench Rats (in progress)

PAIRING: Ratdog/Mirela (M/F)

EXPLANATION: I thought it would be quite interesting if the Nazi-serving, Trench Rat-hunting Lt. Ratdog were to pair up with...MIRELA?? A Nazi-hating, Trench Rat-allied Roma freedom fighter? Go figure. Although this is a VERY bizarre pairing, it really does take place in the story. If this is how Ratdog gets along with Mirela, I have to wonder how he'd get along with a badass like Didrika. Yikes. Hmm...*shakes head* Nah...maybe?

DISCLAIMERS: As I know practically no German, Ratdog's German for the word "Gypsy" (Zigeuner) may be the incorrect form or usage. Sorry about that, but I took three years of Spanish instead. And "¿Dondé está mi lapiz?"* is all I have to show for it. o_o;;;

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Love & Hate

She lifted the knife and ran at him and screamed, all at once, eyes mad with fury. He managed to turn and look directly at her as she did so. He blinked. Once. She saw that. His own eyes grew wide and she could tell that she'd definitely surprised him. Good. The more surprised he was, the better her chances of killing him.

Scream rising, she raised the knife as well, bringing it plunging down at his breast just as she reached him.

She felt something block her arm, crushing her wrist. Her fingers just gripped the knife tighter but she couldn't move it forward. He seized her wrist before she could strike, holding the weapon at bay; before she could try to break free he had caught her other arm as well. She screamed again, now in frustration, twisting herself in his grasp futilely. She bucked and pulled wildly, teeth and eyes flashing as if insane.

He struggled to hold on while keeping his balance. She very nearly managed to pull him to the floor, only to have him stumble forward and yank up on her arm, hard. She shrieked and thrashed.

"Stop it!" he shouted. She didn't heed him. When she was able she jerked her arm forward and clawed him across the face, trying to gouge out his eyes, but managing only to rake across one. He hissed and almost let her go--almost. Instead, his grip tightened again and he started pushing forward, keeping her ahead of him, his speed picking up until she felt something behind her and tripped and fell. It was the divan. He'd knocked her over onto it, and she continued struggling as he pressed her down to the surface, pinning her arms out at her sides.

Now panic replaced most of the anger within her, though the rage lurked beneath the surface. She remembered her father's and her flight from the Nazis...the way the soldiers had leered at her after killing him, what at least a few of them had had in mind, before the leader decided to kill her...before he had ended up killed himself due to dumb luck and good timing...

She couldn't live through it happening. She wouldn't have allowed them then, she wouldn't allow them now. She renewed her efforts, bucking against her captor so hard that his fingers dug into her skin. She still had the knife; she had to try to use it on him.

He bared his teeth, grinding them as he tried to keep her in place. "Stop fighting!" he snapped.

"No!" she yelled back, twisting furiously.

He turned his attention back to her right wrist, hand holding the knife. He ground the heel of his hand into her wrist and she could very nearly feel her nerves crushing. She cried out in pain, fingers going numb. The knife dropped harmlessly from her hand. She let out one tearless sob as she felt it fall from her fingers. Her only weapon gone, she'd have to rely on what she'd already been given. Which had to be enough.

With a heave she drew her knee up, slamming it into his crotch as hard as she could. Ratdog's eyes grew huge, then he doubled over her with a pained gasp, curling in on himself. She had thought that he would let go, try to grab onto himself as most men did. However, his hold was as tight as ever, though he'd lowered his head, and she could see tears spring to his eyes. He abruptly let out his breath and started gasping, attempting to catch it again, still in agony but recovering. "Damn it," he muttered weakly.

Mirela quailed inside.

He lifted his head now, eyes wet, and the look he gave her was so indescribable that she squinched her own eyes shut and pressed her head to the side, praying for it to be over with quickly. He panted down at her, and with his own leg he held hers down, making certain that she wouldn't try such a thing again. She bit her lip and waited to join her father.

A second, a moment, an eternity passed, and still she knew that she wasn't dead yet. What was he doing? Did he plan to take her, after all? She was certain that it was what he'd had planned before she'd kneed him. She should have tried harder, then he would never be able to try such a trick again. And though she would still probably be dead, the fact that she'd permanently damaged him would be some consolation.

Only--he didn't kill her. She opened her eyes just barely, holding her breath, only to gasp when he used her own hand to knock the knife from the divan. Then he brought her arm closer to her head, still pressing it down, and pushed himself up, above her. He still panted from their brief fight, and very nearly snarled down at her, the look on his face was such. She knew she was shaking but couldn't help it. She knew that she couldn't fight him off; he was stronger than her. She didn't want this to happen, not now, not ever. She wanted to shut her eyes again, to block it out, but couldn't. Instead he went blurry as they filled, tears spilling down her cheeks, and she loathed herself for letting out a whimper.

And...through the mist, she could swear that she saw him blink again. Surprised. Why should he be surprised? As if in response his features hardened again, and he moved, but not to press himself against her. Instead he pulled back, pulling her with him. She protested, flailing weakly, but he yanked on her arms, dragging her forward.

"Get up."

"No."

"Get up!"

She stopped fighting and went limp. This seemed to annoy him more than her resistance. He found himself having to grab onto her to keep her from falling to the floor, and ended up setting her on the divan again, propping her against the wall. He pulled something off of the nearby table, popping it open so its contents littered the cloth beside her. She cast half a glance down to see that it was some sort of medical kit. Only now did she feel the sting in her right hand and realize that the knife had been effective--only upon the wrong person. She hissed, all of her senses coming back, and tried to draw her wounded hand in toward herself, only to have him pull it back toward him.

"Stand still."

She obeyed, more out of exhaustion than anything else. She didn't know what he had in mind for her now, unless he meant to draw it out as long as he could, have fun with her as he went. It had happened before. She'd heard about it from others. She stayed still, leaning against the wall as he pulled some bandages from the box, dabbing something on her cut, something which stung; then wrapping it tightly, holding onto her wrist carefully as he did so. She didn't know why he bothered. It was already dark with the bruise he'd given her.

He tied the bandage to keep it on, then pulled up her other wrist and examined it, all the while with that hard look on his face. Then he let go of her and she drew her arms in, wrapping them around herself as if cold. She was trembling, at least. Her own eyes felt wet but she didn't know if she cried or not.

He ignored her shivering, turning to put the different items back in the kit. She scanned the cushion. Was it a full medical kit or merely a first-aid kit? Her question was answered when she saw the scalpel, and just as she lunged forward to grab it he must have noticed her motion for he reached forward too.

She got hold of it, but not before he got hold of her. Now he looked incredibly pissed. He twisted her wrist so she yelped and the blade dropped to the floor, repeating her mistake, then he pushed her down again. She tried to kick only to find him blocking her with his leg.

He snarled down at her. "For the love of God, are you insane?"

It was the first thing he'd yelled at her that wasn't a command. She snarled back, writhing. "Let--go!"

She jerked her head up, sinking her teeth into his arm. This time he cried out, letting go of her left wrist to gawk at his injury. She brought up her hand, balling it into a fist, and struck him in the face. He sputtered briefly but then turned and let out a furious scream, wrenching her arm away and pinioning both above her head. She twisted against him, but anger must have made him stronger; she couldn't pry herself free no matter how hard she tried. And her hand still hurt from the cut.

"You are mad!" he snapped.

She didn't reply, at least not with anything coherent. After tossing around a bit more she finally gave up for the second, and, she assumed, last time, sinking limply into the cushions, panting exhaustedly. There was no longer any use to all of this. He was just as good as the Rats had insisted; why she'd thought she might have a chance at fighting him off, she had no idea. She lay still and waited for it to be over.

Go ahead, she told him mentally. I won't fight anymore.

He had lifted his right arm--his left still held her own--and was eyeing the gash she'd left in it with her teeth, wincing at the sight of the blood beginning to pool and trickle down to his elbow. Now that she looked at him longer, she realized that he wasn't quite as old as she'd pegged him...he was still older than her, obviously, but not by as many years as she'd thought. His pain and irritation made him look even younger, a peeved, petulant look on his face from the injury she'd inflicted.

She couldn't help but notice that she was now staring up at him, openly. When he himself noticed, and glared back down at her, she flushed but refused to look away. She intended to stare him down until he turned first. There wasn't any way she would give him that satisfaction.

So they stayed like that, staring at each other for what felt like ages. Only as the time wore on, she felt that it was no longer quite a competition. They stared at each other now because...they were looking at each other. Studying each other. As if both had found some strange alien being, and were now trying to comprehend it in terms that they could understand. She noticed, for the first time, that his eyes were a pale blue, almost like chips of ice, yet somehow not cold. She wondered why she hadn't noticed that before. He wasn't muscular, but neither was he scrawny; he managed to hold her down effectively, and she'd tried to learn from Didrika herself. And no longer did he have the hard annoyed look that he'd had throughout the whole scene; now he seemed more puzzled than anything. She stared into those pale blue eyes, studying the flecks of gray within them, the way that they seemed to reflect her back yet also allowed her in...

With an embarrassed mental start she realized that she was wet. Not from sweat...from something else. Her nipples felt tight, and she tried to bring her legs close together to hide the stickiness before it spread, only to have him press his knee down into her thigh, as if thinking that she intended to knee him again. She flushed harder, and finally broke her gaze. Her head felt light and her heart pounded. She didn't know why she should feel this way, right now. She'd felt this way before, on seeing the handsome boys in her camp, when they looked her way and smiled and winked and blew kisses, when she flushed with pleasure and wondered what it should feel like to be with one of them...why should she be feeling this now?

He still stared at her, and now she wondered if he felt the same thing. He certainly seemed confused enough. His grip on her wrists loosened; slowly she pulled one free, bringing her arm down to tuck it close to her, hoping not to cause another reaction in him. She tentatively started to reach out, several fingers spread out, reaching for his face, then pulled her hand back, not knowing what she was doing and not wanting to know.

But her breath caught in her chest; her breasts poked at her shirt, as if yearning to break free, and the creaminess only built between her legs, where a heat was starting to rise...

And this time, he responded. His face came down to hers; within seconds their lips touched, his mouth seeming to devour her. She opened her own, purely out of surprise; he was inside immediately, tongue probing, tasting. Her chest hitched and she trembled against him as he pressed close. He still held her arm, though his other hand ran down her side, over her abdomen, down to her leg. When he passed over her most secret area she gasped and arched instinctively. His hand stopped at her thigh, came back up. She whimpered, praying that it would seek out the places she wanted it to. She felt him unbutton her pants, his hand, pressed flat to her, slipping inside. Fingers tangled in her silky hair; then met the warm stickiness building inside. She gasped anew, straining upwards.

Oh God, take away, take away this pain!

Had she said it aloud? His hand roamed further, fingers exploring her body as his tongue explored her mouth, then her neck. She tipped back her head in ecstasy. A moment later she cried out and tightened to feel him poking inside her.

His mouth met her ear, lips tracing along her cheek as his murmur came to her. "You are inexperienced?"

She nodded, feeling very young and naive. "I...my...my first..."

"I will be gentle, then..."

She wondered how he knew, how he knew that she was now filled with terror, yet also so full of desire that she wished to continue. How did he know? Why did he care?

Why do I want him?

She shook a bit harder though she arched her neck to his kisses. "I...I don't really know what to do," she mumbled, feeling her ears burn with embarrassment, enjoying the slow slide of his hand down her side.

"I'll take you through it." Lips to her eyelid as she sighed. "You must trust me."

She nodded, whimpering. She reached up to embrace him, to pull him closer, while shirking off her pants. She heard him hastily unbutton his own pants, and attempted to help him. Their breath was short, impatient. They'd both completely forgotten about fighting, or the war. Now it was just them, and their needs, their desires. The heat of his body made Mirela want to cry out huskily. Instead she nibbled at his ear, clawing his shoulders as they shed their clothes, tossing them over the edge of the divan. He moved toward her.

"Take hold of me."

Shaking again, she obeyed. She felt like an insecure little girl again, feeling him. He seemed so big, although she knew he wasn't. And she still felt embarrassment, and some shame, over touching him. Her people would not have allowed this. She did it anyway. She fumbled around a moment attempting to find him in the dark, before feeling first his hand on hers, then something smooth and round but hot and hard. She gasped and turned bright red on feeling it, forcing her fingers to curl around it.

"Move your hand. Up and down."

She did, and doing so, she knew what she did now. She'd caught sight of one of the boys of her camp doing this once, and knew that he'd done it to bring himself pleasure in the others' absence. She'd never thought of doing it for someone else though. She stroked her hand up and down, stopping each time at the fleshy head, then down to his testicles. She peered down to see him and gasped at the sight. A bead of fluid had formed at the deep pink tip, frozen there like a tiny pearl. She had the sudden insane idea to lick it up from him.

"That's good..." He kissed her neck, caressed her arm. She sighed and snuggled against him, relishing his touches, listening for him to speak again.

A kiss close to her ear. "I'm going to use my fingers." His lips pressed to her collarbone when she shuddered. "You're too tight. It will hurt, if you do not relax."

"I...I can handle this..."

"No." His fingers ruffled through her hair. "I could hurt you. I'll use my fingers first, and you must relax..."

She bit her lip, nodded. His hand brushed over her trembling stomach, lightly parted the lips of her vulva. She bit off a whimper, but it rose and grew anyway to feel his digits slide through her slickness, through her opening, into her, gently pushing and pressing against the tight walls of her vagina. As he had said, she tightened automatically, more the deeper he went. She felt like going into paroxysms. But after a moment or two the anxiety and the tightness began to subside and she felt herself loosening, opening wider; when he pressed upon her clitoris she moaned aloud and slid her legs free of him, running them up and down along his own. She felt a mini-climax take hold, and let out her breath, feeling his skin warm against hers. He nuzzled her earlobe, whispered into her ear, his fingers leaving her, soaked with her juice. His voice was very soft.

"Part your legs..."

She obeyed.

"You are certain of this?"

"Yes...please."

"I am going to come inside you now. This will hurt."

"How--how long will it hurt--?"

"Not for long. Then, it will be enjoyable." He kissed her and smiled gently. "If you wish it to be."

She nodded. "I...I'm ready."

"Relax yourself..."

She willed herself to go loose. His hand slipped between her legs and parted her wider; his knees pressed into the cushions beside her as he came forward, bearing down. The thick fleshy head pressed to her opening and she bit off a cry, flinching. He hesitated just a moment--"Relax, little one"--before slowly, ever so slowly easing himself in. Mirela felt him sliding, a heat, felt some slight strange resistance to his progress, felt him press up against this, felt it snap and break and juddered with the sudden pain that it brought--she knew that this must have been her maidenhead--then felt the slick, hot sliding once more, deeper, deeper...it seemed as if he would go on inside her forever.

And then his hips met hers, and she knew that he had filled her entirely with himself, for the first time. She let out her breath. He pulled out, then pushed in again, slowly, gently like before. She prepared herself for the pain, only to feel a dull throb instead, which was not quite so unpleasant. She tilted her head, found his hand, locked her fingers with his. She murmured, not quite a whimper, pressing her breasts up against him.

He bent to kiss her. "How does it feel?"

"It feels...strange."

"You will become used to it, in time...and then it will be different."

"How will it be?"

"It will be pleasurable, for you and for me."

"How does it feel for you?"

He kissed her neck. "It will feel better, as soon as you come to enjoy it."

She puzzled over this. He would enjoy it more, as soon as she did? What a strange activity. She rubbed his hand. "I hope it does...and soon."

"Hush, love...you need not rush it. It will come, as you need it."

Another sigh. She lay still, moving only to press against him as he pressed into her, wondering over the labored sound of his breath, the tensing of his muscles as he moved inside her. He seemed to enjoy it, even while she wasn't quite certain yet what she thought. The feeling was too odd, too alien for her to know what to think. So this was sex? This was what so many of the young boys and girls in her camp had whispered about on many a night, giggling and telling stories and hoping for just the right person, just the right moment? She couldn't tell what all the excitement had been about. She did like the slight pressure against her every time he moved close, and when he touched her breast it made her shiver, but she didn't know what else must be so special about it. She pursed her lips almost comically, letting her mind wander a bit.

His other hand stroked her cheek, and she focused on him again to see him looking at her, those pale blue eyes boring into hers as surely as he bore into her body. "Well?" he whispered. "What do you feel, now?"

"Humm," she murmured, shrugging. "I don't know."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, it does not hurt, anymore..."

"You do not like it?"

"No...it isn't that. I'm just...I don't know. Perhaps I'm not doing something right..."

"Then you must tell me what you would like me to do for you...does any of it, any part at all feel good to you?"

"Well...I do like when you touch my breast...and when you move close to me, it feels good inside...though I don't know if this is correct or not..."

"Hm." He took her nipple between his fingers and twisted gently. She sucked in a breath. "Perhaps it is merely the way we do this...I'm not reaching you deeply enough."

"Deeply?"

"Yes...I'm going to come out of you now. We may try this differently if you like..."

She didn't protest, curious as to what he meant. She did feel surprisingly empty after he had pulled himself from her. She gave a short sigh of disappointment, but decided that she should like for him to fondle her, to pass the rest of the evening. She did enjoy his touch more than anything else. She giggled softly and blushed, averting her eyes when she saw him, his member still hard and erect. She then flushed harder and wiped away the blood she found on her leg, hoping that she hadn't stained the divan or anything else. She nearly started when he came to her and took her shoulder, his face close to hers.

"Let us try this way...kneel upon your hands and knees."

"Kneel?" she almost cried out, going crimson. That was the way animals did it! Her arms went up, ridiculously, to cover her breasts, as if she had just been spotted by everyone in the town. Ratdog's expression turned exasperated and she realized how silly she was being, ducking her head and feeling her skin grow hot.

"Yes, kneel...there is nothing wrong with this. Please. Try it, and if you do not like it then we may do something else instead..."

"All...all right." She placed her hands down on the cushions, raising her behind into the air. She couldn't believe how embarrassed she was, although he was the only one here, the only one to see her. The mere thought of how she must look made her want to curl up and hide. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort, or else ignored it, and she trembled at the feel of his hands upon her hips. She swallowed convulsively.

"I'm going to come into you again. You will feel me behind you. If I go too quickly, use your hand and guide me."

She nodded, unable to speak.

"I will try to go slowly though, so prepare yourself. Relax."

Another nod. His fingers separated her buttocks and once more she felt his shaft against her, penetrating, going inside her. She sucked in a breath, and it went on and on, up and up. Her head lolled back as he pushed, deeper and deeper within, hands clenching her hips. Her fingers, even on her injured hand, dug into the cushions. She felt a thick heat rising in her belly.

"Oh God..." she moaned.

His lips brushed her neck. "Am I hurting you?"

"N...no...this...this feels a lot different, from before..."

"Do you like it?"

"I..." He pulled back, pushed in again as if to clarify his question. Mirela gasped and jerked beneath him. "Y...yes...I do...very much..."

"Then it was what I thought...I did not reach deep enough within you, before, to touch the right spot..."

"Oh...oh. Something...something..."

"In this position...one may reach deeper...and reach the right spot to bring another pleasure." His lips pulled gently at her ear. "Do you enjoy this, now?"

"Yes...yes I do...oh..."

"I will go faster then..."

"Yes...please...go faster..."

Pushing himself upright, he gripped her hips firmly, knees keeping her own spread, and pressed within. She let out her breath, only to suck it in again with his next thrust. He did not go rapidly, but he moved more steadily than before, now that they had found something they both liked. Mirela continued to moan, arching herself into his motions, shivers of pleasure rising and falling through her body. All previous pain was forgotten. Even her fear, from his subduing her, and from their beginning of the act, had vanished entirely. Now, there was nothing else in the world but him, and the ecstasy he raised within her, the strange hot wet tingling feelings inside her.

"Is there anything else...anything else you wish for?"

Mirela panted, eyes shut. "P...please...touch my breasts, would you...I enjoyed that, I should enjoy it again..."

She moaned more loudly when his palms encased the fleshy orbs, squeezing them softly, kneading, thumbs and forefingers lightly tweaking the hard nipples. His hips shifted against hers in rhythm. She wanted to cry out to the heavens, let the world know of her joy at this moment.

He pressed himself down close to her body so they rocked together, and murmured into her ear, his voice, heavy with desire, sending chills dancing up and down her spine.

"Do you enjoy this, little one?"

"Yes, please...please continue...I love this...I...I love...you..."

She was barely conscious that she said it. She could sense his smile. He mouthed her shoulder and stroked her back.

"Then simply allow me, my love...and we will both be much satisfied this night."

"Yes...love...please do."

She sighed rapturously, submitting to her enemy's, her lover's motions, urging him on faster and deeper to sate their desires, moaning at the air when they began to rock more rapidly, his member pulsing within her, finally crying out "Ahhh!" and shuddering to his accompanying shout--"Little one!"--giggling exhaustedly at the odd new but good feel of his seed spilling inside her, sighing in contentment when he pulled himself free and cradled her in his arms, lowering her to the divan, so he could properly kiss and touch her, as she had wished him to all that night. His lips pressed to hers again, and she smiled and laughed softly, tracing her finger along his bare chest, relishing his own smile. It was most strange...but she was no longer even afraid of him. Not anymore. Not now.

Tainted Love

Mirela rolled onto her back, yawning and rubbing her eyes before opening them, blinking up at the ceiling. She felt soft sheets beneath her and remembered where she was. Sitting up abruptly, she glanced around to find herself alone. Though the sound of splashing water came from the next room.

She looked around herself some more, and noticed, with much surprise, that he'd left his revolver on the side table. Her eyes grew. That was much more effective than a knife. She reached out and grabbed it, pulling it close to her. Though the two of them had spent the last night joined in love...she still had a job to do. He was the enemy, and she knew that he would kill her when he had the chance. Mind now clear of his obvious influence, she slipped from the bed, creeping toward the washroom silently.

She'd hoped to catch him while he was in the shower. Instead she found him standing at the sink, splashing his face with water. He wore a baggy khaki-colored pair of pants, but nothing else that she could see. He looked so different out of his uniform. Before she could even raise the gun he'd lifted his head and turned to look at her, seeming surprised to find her there. She realized now that while he was clothed, she was not, her body completely bared; his eyes moved down, then up again, and she pulled the gun slowly out from behind her back, lifting it and aiming. He blinked, then his look grew amused.

"You expect to shoot me?"

"I can't let you leave," she whispered, cocking it and tightening her finger upon the trigger.

He gave her a slight condescending smile. "I know that you won't shoot me."

"Oh? How can you be so certain?" Her eyes narrowed. "Just because of last night...what we did...please don't take this personally. I did enjoy it. You were my first."

"This I could tell on my own."

"But you're still who you are. I cannot allow you to live." She lifted the gun higher, aiming between his eyes. "I'll make certain to remember you, at least. Which will be more than you would have ever done for me and my people if I had allowed you to live." She smiled, truly regretting that she had to kill him. "Goodbye."

And she pulled the trigger.

And instead of a BANG, the gun clicked.

She glanced down at it, eyes goggling.

Before she could recover herself he had come forward--without her even noticing--and had taken hold of the barrel in his hand. He pulled her arm up, gun pointing at the ceiling. He gave her that same smile.

"It's unloaded. I told you you would not shoot me."

She gaped at him for a moment before her face twisted up into a silent snarl. At least--that was what she'd thought it would do. Instead, she felt her eyes fill with tears, small empty gasps hitching in her throat. She let the gun slip from her fingers, into his hand. Then she leaned into him, pressing her face to his chest as if the very person she'd meant to kill were the one she wished to comfort her. She didn't sob, though she shook, and she heard him set the gun down on the sink before he put his arms around her.

"Damn you," she murmured, sniffling. "It isn't fair."

"If you think I would leave a loaded gun beside your hand, you must think poorly of me."

All that she could do was let out an exasperated growl. He took her arms and pulled her away from him. All that she could remember was that she tried to look angry, but wasn't certain if she succeeded. Almost within the next moment, it seemed, she knew that they had kissed each other passionately already, and he was pressing her gently to the wall. She let out a shuddery sigh, face and breasts pressing against the wood. He stood behind her and nuzzled at her neck. His hand slipped in front, underneath her breast, and cupped it, squeezing softly.

"Why must you keep doing this to me...?"

"Because your eyes ask for it." She felt his fingers between her legs, and gasped, stiffening. He brought his hand to her face and she caught the scent of her own juice, catching also his slight smile. "And your body practically begs."

"You would be dead right now if you weren't a little smarter..."

He placed his hands on her upper arms and kissed her neck. "I have always planned ahead. Are you ready for me, little Mirela?"

"Of course I am...don't make me wait too long, or your gun may fail to fire on time yet again..."

He gave a soft laugh. She smiled to herself, then moaned and arched when he slid within her. Her hands left the wall and she reached back to hug his hips to her, guiding his motions; he adjusted himself and continued moving slowly but firmly, the feel of his skin warm against her back. She let out her breath and tipped her head, savoring his feel.

"Do you take every one of your impure women?" she murmured, still futilely trying to summon up any anger inside her.

His lips brushed her cheek. "I have no women. Unless you would like for me to claim you."

"You know what I mean!"

"Then no, I do not. You are the first such." His hand traced down her thigh and she shivered. "Do you allow every enemy officer to take you?"

Now, the anger that she'd been looking for did flare up briefly. "How can I when you are my first!"

He chuckled softly. "It is merely a joke."

"Not a good one!"

"Honestly, though...your people, would they not cast you out for this?"

She paused, almost forgetting the feeling of him inside her for a moment. No one had asked her yet about her own people. She knew that he'd have to know she was some sort of minority, impure, but she wasn't certain how he knew which one.

"What do you mean," she murmured, uncertainly.

She sensed rather than saw his smile this time. "Your people. Zigeuner. Gypsies, most call you."

Mirela bit her lip. "How...how were you certain?"

"You didn't know I knew?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Well...the fact that you must be about twenty, twenty-one--"

"Twenty-two."

"--And completely untouched as of yet--even your kiss was fresh as honeydew--this was one of the hints I received."

She flushed in embarrassment. "So? So I was a virgin. What has this to do with any--" she gasped, arched "--anything?"

"I know about the Zigeuner. If you had been with your clan you would not have been allowed to walk about freely on your own without some chaperone guarding you." He kissed her again, squeezed her hips. "You walk about freely...so I must assume you are without a clan."

The anger, quick and insidious, briefly twinged inside her. "This is because your kind killed them all off."

"My kind? The German forces?"

"The Nazi forces."

He ceased talking, and moving as well. Despite her anger she felt empty without feeling his thrusting, and wiggled her hips to try to get him to move. When he didn't, she growled irritatedly and looked back at him over her shoulder.

He stared at her, eyes wide. "You--you think I'm a Nazi?"

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

He blinked once, twice, then before she knew it he'd thrown back his head, laughing. Mirela gaped for a moment before giving a frustrated yell and pulling herself away from him, still unsatisfied. He gasped at the motion but didn't stop laughing, putting his hand to his head and looking ready to double over. She picked up the empty gun and waved it like a cudgel.

"If you don't quit laughing, or tell me why you're laughing, then I'll find a new use for this!"

"You--you thought I was a Nazi?" Now he did double over, clutching at his stomach, tears coming to his eyes.

She screamed and waved the gun. "What ELSE would you be!!"

He seemed to try to get his laughter under control, with only partial success. "You...do you assume that every person who wears a German uniform is a member of the Nazi forces?"

"They may as well be."

"Then you're more narrowminded even than I am." She continued scowling at him when he stood up straight again, still choking a little and rubbing the tears from one eye. When he looked at her he nearly started laughing again. "Truly, though...it takes much more than a country of birth to make a Nazi."

"So you're saying you aren't one?"

"If you haven't gotten the point by now, then yes, that's what I'm saying. I work alongside them at times, but I am not one."

Mirela lowered the gun again, frowning. She'd been told that all of the German soldiers were the same, and none of them were to be trusted. She still had reason to believe the second part, but could it be that they weren't all as alike as she'd thought?

While she pondered this she looked at him, only to realize that he was naked. She turned her head with a furious blush, arms going to shield herself.

He chuckled. "We're going to act shy again, then?"

"I'm hardly shy. I'm disgusted to be with you."

"How quickly your tune has changed when just a moment ago you were ready to sing my praises!"

She spat at him. "I'd hardly sing anything for you!"

She gasped and tried to duck away when he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, painfully. He slammed her against the wall hard enough to knock out her breath, but not to hurt her body.

His voice came next to her ear. "Joking and fun only satisfy me for so long...everything else is merely wasting time. Do you mean to waste my time?"

"I mean to rip off your balls the moment you give me the chance!"

"I have a better use for them than that."

"You will not dare!"

His lips brushed her ear and she shuddered away. "I already have, in case you forgot."

Now she started struggling. "A mistake on my part, one which I won't make again! Filthy dog! You've tainted yourself, which is only fitting! Let me go!"

His grip on her arm almost slipped, and she tried to whirl around, hoping to gouge out his eyes. It didn't work that way. He whirled her around instead, keeping himself behind her, and a moment later she found herself struggling for air as he pressed her down onto the bed. She screeched and fought, but somehow he had managed to catch hold of her other arm, and pinioned them above her head.

He pressed his knee into her back and leaned over her. "Is there ever a point when you make up your mind, wench?"

"I've made it up long ago! FILTH! LET ME UP!"

"This reaction may come from your head, but it does not come from your deepest parts."

"If you ever touch me again, I will spend my life trying to wash myself of the taint! You vile monster!"

"You are already tainted then, as am I." As soon as he said it she burst into tears, knowing that it was true but not wanting to hear it nonetheless. She flailed futilely while he patiently pried her legs apart and positioned himself above her. She let out a broken sob and stopped struggling as soon as he had mounted and pushed his way inside her again. Her sides heaved and tears leaked from her eyes.

He didn't speak to her for a moment or so, instead focusing on his movement, holding her arms while thrusting. She could sense his physical pleasure this time, the tiny tremors that passed through his body with each push. His thighs tightened against hers and his ankles wrapped around hers for leverage. It only took her a moment to realize that it felt different from what he'd done the night before. With a start she realized that he was pushing into her anus, moving as measuredly as if he thrust through her moist flower. His panting indicated that he still enjoyed it.

"Wh...what are you doing...?" she whispered, choking back a sob.

"Trying to satisfy myself while leaving you intact," he panted in return. "Though I already claimed your first blood, so that can hardly be returned...but whatever is left you may keep intact. Instead I shall take you like the vile dog I am, and you shall easily dispose of me later, yes?"

His words came out bitter, nothing like the physical sensations beginning to rise within her. She blinked in surprise. He sounded genuinely hurt. "What...what do you mean?"

"I will easily bear your taint upon me wherever I go, while all you must do to rid yourself of me is take a good hard shit. Does that sound satisfactory to you?"

Mirela gasped and attempted to push herself up. He let go of her arms, for some reason, and she used her hands to lift herself up halfway. "What do you mean! What sort of vulgarity is this?"

"The kind you're espousing. I have nothing against you Zigeuner. My fight is against the Allies. If you wish to make one of us pure and one of us impure though, then consider it done. I won't argue."

"You're being a child!"

"You are the one who was disgusted." She jerked when he bit at her neck--bit at her neck! "Though your body certainly seems to be willing enough...but who am I to say?"

She growled and fell back down to the bed, allowing him to finish, pushing deeper and a bit faster until she couldn't help but guide him along, arching her back and pressing her buttocks up into him, stroking his strong thighs with her hands until he seized her shoulders, grunting softly and coming. She sighed at the warm spurt of his fluid and told herself that this was wrong and dirty, but...her body would not listen to her. It responded of its own accord, shuddering wildly in climax. She tossed back her head with a soft moan.

Ratdog stroked her chin, sitting atop her, panting with his knees drawn up. He lifted one leg to pull himself from her.

"Still disgusted, little pure one?"

"Be quiet..." she murmured, sinking back into the bed and shutting her eyes. She balled her fists under her, ostensibly to cower in her shame, but in reality to try to quell the pleasure-pain tang still residing there.

He snorted lightly. "Perhaps for now. But if you don't want your sacredness defiled again, you'd best start thinking of a way to get yourself out of here. Else you will be defiled again this very night if I have my way."

Mirela shivered as he said this. Part of her took it as the threat she felt it must be meant to be. The other part of her giggled to itself and wanted to stay behind...just to feel what she knew she would miss.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.

Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.