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ragdoll physics {blue + mei}

Mei

Mei

Star
Joined
Jan 15, 2009
  • Christov was an idiot. Or, at least, that was how he felt about himself since he let himself be suckered into helping them plot against the Fuehrer. Stupid of him - the Fuehrer had spies everywhere, so he should have seen this coming, should've known that someoone would have found out about him plotting against Hitler. And oh, those rebels were smart enough to let him take the fall, to disguise their own actions. The Nazi gnashed his teeth together angrily, as he stared at his supposed. . . 'friend' who was sitting across from him.

    He called it an offer, but what it really was was blackmail.

    Stupid, foolish man.

    And what a shock it must've been for some people to find that he was in league with the Rebels. After all, Christov seemed like the perfect example of an Ayrian - bright blonde hair and blue eyes, accentless German, and the tall lean body that was prized amongst those who served in the SS, and what seemed like a faithful belief in the doctrine given to them by Hitler - at least, until now. And really, he might even take the other man up on his offer. The penalty for treason was death, and Christov preferred to stay alive, thank you very much.

    Although, considering, Christov couldn't be all that surprised that he had caught onto him. They had a fierce rivalry in the academy. And every single tme, Christov had come out on top. Was this his revenge, then? An attempt to humiliate the one who had always been number one? Figures. So was it worth it then, to accept his offer?

    Stupid man for getting caught.

    "So then. . . What are the exact terms if you'll keep quiet?" Christov slipped into easy English, since he had learned it since his childhood, and it was like a second mothertongue.[/list:u]
 
Call it revenge, call it opportunity... call it whatever the hell you want, but the situation was the same. Nikolaus had, for once, finally come out on top- and all of the previous humiliations of defeat did not half the amount of triumph he had today. The fate of his rival rested in the palm of his hand and the slightest squeeze would make the bastard squirm.

Everything about Christov made his blood boil: not only did the man score better at the training academy, but he was the model Ayrian. While Christov was blessed with fair hair and sky eyes, Nikolaus was stuck with gray eyes and dark hair. Whatever he did, Christov would always manage to come out on top. But not this time. For once, the cards were dealt in Nikolaus' favor.

The soldier rested his elbows upon his desk, leaning his shoulders forward as he watched the other in a scrutinizing stare, lips curved upwards in a faint smirk. Whatever the man had achieved up until this point meant shit. There was no victory in treason.

Gray eyes focused on the blue ones he grew to hate before a small scoff rumbled in his throat. "Speak goddamn German. Have some pride," he growled, rising slowly to his feet. His head lifted slightly as he straightened his posture- an attempt to even further his point that he was now superior. "From now on, you do everything and anything I say. Slip up once and I won't hesitate to report you."
 
  • Christov grit his teeth. "You? What you want?" He had to stop himself from sneering. Nikolaus just had to be kidding. "And I'll speak English if I want to, don't tell me what to. . ." He stopped himself from finishing that sentence. And what was exactly what the other man wanted - he wanted him to obey the other man. He narrowed his eyes, watching him rise up and stand over him.

    "Fine." He spat the word out, that single word poison in his mouth, bitter and foul. "Fine." He reverted to German now, and averted his eyes, and took a deep breath to calm himself. Nikolaus was a powerhungry bastard, and he would find himself in trouble one day because of ambition. . .

    He will be his own downfall, he will be his own downfall, he will be his own downfull. . .

    Christov continued to chant that in his head, all the while reminding himself that he was still alive at the very least. Still alive. Barely. He glared up at the other man, mouth set in a straight line.

    "So. What do you want me to do now?"

    Possibilities ran through his head, of what the ass would do. Make him crawl on all fours, begging for forgiveness for treason, kiss the other man's feet; he could practically hear the man saying, 'On your hands and feet, and bark and kiss my feet like the dog you are. . .'

    Or maybe he was just going insane, being able to imagine the other Nazis' voice so clearly.[/list:u]
 
The man's eyebrows raised at Christov's initial retaliation. For a man with one foot in the grave, he was acting pretty cocky. However, when the other mellowed down, the smirk grew even wider on Nikolaus' face. Oh, he was going to have fun with this. Christov was a proud and well-rounded man and that made the thought of reducing him to the traitorous dog he truly was even more appealing.

His eyes glinted in dark amusement when the other asked for a command. "Well, aren't we the eager one?" Of course, the possibilities that Christov was thinking of weren't too far off from how Nikolaus was planning on using the guy; but of course, what fun was it to break his new toy so quickly?

A hand rose up and he rubbed his chin in thought, eyes darting to the ceiling for a moment before focusing back on his plaything. This man was no longer his rival, but his pet. He wondered faintly what the guy's breaking point would be. However, such things would be left for discovery later.

"You are to file a request to be moved into my office. I can't risk you trying to run off and fabricate some other assassination plot, can I?" Not to mention he'd be able to keep the man within arm's reach at all times- and better yet, have more opportunities to order the bastard around. "And you are to report to my house every day immediately after work, understood?"
 
  • "No - I'm not!" Christov choked out, furious that the other man could've thought that he was eager to do whatever he wanted. Maybe it was a bad thing that he was so proud of his accomplishments. Proud, then realized that the doctrine didn't work for him, and now reduced to. . . To this. His lips twisted briefly into a scowl, before he smoothed his face out again, not wanting to give the other man another chance to mock him.

    He watched the other man think for a few seconds, his entire body tense with fearful anticipation as to what the other man was going to do.

    Finally, though, he blinked at the request - no, order. A transfer, hm? And. . . He looked furious. To his house! What the hell was he going to be able to do at the other man's house? His bright eyes smoldered furiously. "A-alright. . ." He muttered, looking down and away. But he was already finished with work today, so what the hell was he supposed to do now? Just mooch around Nikolaus' office until he was with his work?

    Christov hunched forward, and buried his facei n his hands, breathing heavily for a few brief seconds, before raising his head up again. "So what now, hm?" His voice was rough with barely constraiined anger - anger from even letting himself get caught, and anger for letting this prick control him. "Now what the hell do you want me to do? Am I to wait for you to finish to go to your house?"[/list:u]
 
A dark chuckle reverberated in his throat at the indignation. Although he didn't want Christov to get used to insubordinate actions like this, it would prove to be more amusing if the man still had a little fight in him rather than just rolling over and being the obedient dog he was expected to be. At least the other seemed to understand his position: completely and utterly fucked.

The expression was priceless. It made all the years of failure worth it- just for this moment... and Nikolaus was sure he'd get many more like this one- possibly even better.

He gave a small nod of approval when the other agreed to his first demand. Things were beginning to look bright. Well, not for Christov, of course. There was a whole world of hell waiting for him once Nikolaus' work was finished with for the day. The man turned back to his desk, taking a moment to pause and crack his fingers. Ahh, much better.

The sound of restraint in the man's voice was beautiful. Nikolaus turned his head to gaze the other over carefully before responding, "You're going to do my work." Would you look at that, he had his own secretary now too! It was a pity that the guy didn't try to stage a coup sooner.
 
  • The chuckle almost made him snap and throw the man against the wall and start yelling at him. Stop laughing, he wanted to say, stop being a fool and really look around you - is a Nazi Germany going to truly bring back our glory? Will it help you? Although strangling the other man wouldn't be that bad either. Strangling, and then shouting was how it would've gone. That stupid laugh. . . Oh, if there was a God, hear this: I will get back at Nikolaus for this one day. For this, I pray that the Allied Forces will win.

    Christov stared at the other man for a second, trying to see if he was serious.

    He was not a secretary. "You cannot be serious. . ." But even as he said that, he knew that the other man was. Refraining from giving a long and irritated sigh, he stood up as well and looked a little unsure before moving over to the man's desk, glancing at the stacks of papers - a few neat piles, a few pages scattered across the desk. Reports, forms, requisitions. . .

    "Fine, I'll finish it for you," he managed to bite out, before gathering a few reports and forms, and a pen from his desk, and glared at Nikolaus. Might as well get started - it was a shitload of work to do. . .

    -

    Hours passed, and aside from a few (okay, a lot) of snide remarks from Nikolaus, it was generally quiet and Christov made good time on the work. It wasn't too different from his own - sign (well, forge) a name, type up a few reports, highlight a few things. Cracking his own knuckles after awhile, the man leaned back, and sighed, irritated as a few blonde pieces of hair fell into his eyes.

    Irritation.

    Now that he was done, that was what he was feeling.

    "There. Done," he said gruffly, slamming the pen down with more force than he had intended. And now he had to face the horror of going. . . of going to Nikolaus' home. Eurgh.[/list:u]
 
If looks could kill, Nikolaus would have been dead a dozen times over with all those nasty glares Christov sent his way. And somehow, he seemed to get some sort of morbid pride at the fact that he alone would be causing all of this frustration and grief to the one man he abhorred most. It was poetic, almost, even though the Nazi had no appreciation for the art. He'd have to find out what would really make Christov tick... maybe he'll even make a little game out of it.

"Oh, but I am serious," he replied in a drawl, his voice silky despite his darker motives. The soldier sat himself down in one of the spare chairs, busying himself with absolutely nothing but sitting and watching the other do his work. He wasn't going to lie; it was rather dull having nothing to do and he probably should have planned this part out better, but... oh hell, who was he kidding? Watching Christov do work that he shouldn't even be doing was amusing beyond words. A very good feeling in his gut told him that he wouldn't have to do work for a very long time.

At some point between the time Christov started the paperwork and the time he finished it, Nikolaus went off for a lunch break, kindly not asking the other if he was hungry nor bringing anything back to eat. That man was a traitor; he was lucky enough to be alive so if he was going to bitch about missing lunch, his priorites were sadly misplaced. However, Christov was still working diligently (and reluctantly) on his work so the man managed to spare himself.

When the poor bastard finally finished, Nikolaus gave a small snort before grumbling, "Took you long enough. A woman would have done the job quicker." He rose to his feet and straightened out the front of his uniform before letting his gaze move back to his pet. "So are you coming, or just going to sit around all day?"
 
  • If looks could kill, Nikolaus simply wouldn't be dead a dozen times over. He'd be dead hundreds, thousands, millions of times over. That is, if looks were to kill, but they couldn't. So sad, Christov, so sad. Although his thoughts really weren't that much better, actually. During the entire time that he was working on Nikolaus' work, he came up with vengeful fantasies - each time ending with Nikolaus dead through several various brutal and gruesome tortures. But again, not like those fantasies could come true.

    And, of course, Nikolaus never bothered to ask Christov if he wanted anything, and was certainly such a kind man that he brought back nothing for the man either. Figures - why bother bringing the man anything when by depriving him of something he needed? Depriving him of such a thing would make him weaker, anyway.

    Perhaps, in some ways, Christov thought, Nikolaus was a better Nazi than he was - after all, Nikolaus was far more brutal and cruel. And that was a trait that Christov didn't have, but Nikolaus did have. And that was something Hitler valued, of course.

    "Yeah, but I'm not a woman," he mumbled back in response. He gave a tired sigh, and rubbed at his eyes - dark now from having to stare at reports for hours. He glanced up at Nikolaus (thank goodness he didn't know how the other man was referring to him in his thoughts), and gave a small growl before standing up as well, and straightened his own uniform.

    "Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming. . ."[/list:u]
 
A scoff errupted from Nikolaus' throat at the comment. "Well, you're going to have to learn to work like one or else I may have an urge to reveal some secrets," the nazi drawled and the malicious look in his eyes seemed to say it all: either way, he was going to win... if Christov decided to retaliate, Nikolaus would have the pleasure of seeing his rival executed via firing squad. On the other hand, if the guy decided to play along, Nikolaus continued to have his own, personal pet.

Out of all of his mistakes, he must have done something right to earn this honor.

The nazi exited the office, pointedly shutting the door behind rather than spare Christov some courtesy by holding the door open and waiting for the man to pass through. If Christov got so worked up over doing some simple, little paperwork, then the poor bastard had no idea what was in store for him in the future. Nikolaus was ready to push the man to his limit and then some.

He exited the building without a word and took swift, long strides to his car before realizing two things: Christov didn't know his address and the man may have a car. Abruptly, Nikolaus turned to the other male, features impassive and eyebrows lowered in a stern glare. "Do you walk or drive to work?"
 
  • Pushy bastard. . .Must not try to do anything. . . Must not try to kill man who held his life over him. . . Wait. Killing him would eliminate that threat,a lthough he doubted he'd get that sort of chance. Christov muttered something incomprehensible underneath his breath as Nikolaus scoffed and told him that he'd better start working like a freaking secretary. Unless, of course, he wanted to be executed publicly. Bastard.

    Sighing as the door was shut pointedly in his face (jerk, could've kept the stupid door open. . . ), he opened it once more, and followed the man out to his car. Almost running into him as he stopped and turned suddenly, the Nazi backed away, and stared at him. Wait, what? And why. . .Oh. 'You will come to my home directly after work'. That's right - and after the training academy, Christov had no idea where the hell he lived.

    "I walk." He almost added something snarky about Nikolaus having to chaffeur him to hsi home unless he expected Christov to drive to his house. Now that. . . That would be demoting him to something even lower than a secretary. Besides, he didn't live to far from here - why clog the Autobahn when he could just walk?[/list:u]
 
Ahh, that was good. That cleared up the whole caravan ordeal he'd have to go along with if Christov actually drove to work. He had half the mind to poke fun at the fact that the guy didn't have a car of his own but decided not to; he'd find better reasons to make fun of the guy later, where it really mattered. There wasn't much he could do on military grounds in order to make Christov regret having ever feeling the slightest bit of disloyalty to the Fuhrer.

His head lowered the slightest in a small nod of approval but his expression remained stony and unforgiving. "Good," he huffed out, withdrawing a set of keys from his pocket and forcing it into the other's hand. "My house is three miles east. Turn right after the communications office and continue four blocks before making a left and mine is the first house on the left." His tone was monotone; just like a superior commanding his lower-ranking officer, even though Christov and Nikolaus were of similar rank.

With that said, the dark-haired male made his way to the passenger side of the car but rather than opening the door and sitting down, he stood at the side. He made a small gesture of his hands to the door, clearly showing that he was expecting Christov to open it for him.
 
  • So with the expectation that he was supposed to drive - no, he wasn't really all that surprised that he was being forced to drive Nikolaus home. Bastard. And he was just about to open the door on the driver's side when he blinked, and saw that the other man was gesturing to the car door. He just had to be kidding, but no, he wasn't. Sighing, Christov walked over, and opened the door for him - just as his own chaffeur did when he was picked up in the mornings to Munich or Stuttgart.

    As soon as Nikolaus got into the car, Christov slammed the door shut and got into the driver's side, and quickly started the car. Fine then, he'd drive the bastard home and do whatever else he fucking wanted. Gritting his teeth, Christov pulled out of the complex and followed the other man's directions to his home. The voice that he had spoken it in rankled the blonde quite a bit - they were of close rank yes, but in technically, Christov was of a higher rank, although that could crash around his head along with his life if Nikolaus didn't keep his side of the bargain.

    As soon as they arrived as to what Christov assumed to be Nikolaus' house, Christov turned off the car, got out, and walked over to the passengers side, and opened the door for him as well. He didn't want to be freaking told, 'Get out and open the door for me'. He already knew that it'd be said.

    "Am I allowed to leave now?" He asked, glaring at the man.[/list:u]
 
As an immediate reaction to the other soldier's question, Nikolaus let out a doggish laughter. It was too amusing that Christov actually thought he was going to get off so easily. Honestly, he should have known Nikolaus better than that; he was always looking for a way to make the bastard's life miserable and when he was able to threaten the man with his life, it made the situation all the more easier for him. As an added bonus, he knew that by laughing, he'd annoy the man even more.

"Go home?" He echoed, "Of course not!" He unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car, rather pleased that Christov was already getting the hang of being a good, little slave. "There's dinner to cook, a house to clean- you're far from being done," he said, shaking his head at the other as if he were the most foolish man alive to think that his day was done.

The nazi shoved his hands into his pockets, cold stare settled upon the treasonous dog. "My house key is the silver one," he grumbled, "Open the door."
 
  • The man gave an irritated sort of shudder, glaring at the other man all the while. Why the laughter, of all things? Why laugh? It was even worse when Nikolaus laughed, and he just. . . Well, he just couldn't do anything. His life was held by the bastard, and he sure as hell was taking pleasure in making Christov jump through hoops in order to save his own life. Jump through hoops, and act like a servant.

    Pleasant.

    And all Christov could do when he heard that he was to cook dinner and clean the house. . . was, nothing. He just stared at the other man as if he were mad, and then turned away, waiting for the bastard to step out of the car, and, after slamming the door shut, followed him up the steps to the front.

    Right. Silver key. Placing the correct key in the lock, and after fumbling with it for a brief second, opened the door and waited for Nikolaus to step inside, following him and closing the door behind him, slipping the keys into his uniform pocket. He stood there quietly, not at all wanting to anticipate his needs. Might as well frustrate Nikolaus, having to make the man explain everything to him. The thought nearly brought a smirk to his face.[/list:u]
 
Nikolaus, although he may be considered 'inferior' to Christov in many ways, still was an able soldier- one of which ways being that he was very observant. He may not have the eyes of an Ayrian, but he had the eyes of a goddamn hawk and though he turned a blind eye to his own shortcomings, it was rare that he'd miss the fault of another's. So naturally, he took notice to how Christov pointedly made himself at ease instead of getting straight to work like he should have done.

There was a brief moment that he considered whether or not it was worth it to lay off for a little while before easing into to bigger and better things- after all, if he shoved things on the guy too quickly, he may give up and choose that death was a better end than humiliation... not to mention, if he broke the guy too soon, then that would mean less fun down the line.

But then again, who the hell cared? If Christov was going to bitch about Nikolaus sparing his life, then the bastard deserved to be dead... plus, if he proved to be of no more amusement, then Nikolaus could easily toss him to the authorities and have the pleasure of watching the execution. For now, he'd shake of that small display of defiance simply because- well, he'd get his revenge soon enough.

"I'm used to my maids working in uniform," he replied, pretending to not notice the other's reluctance of servitude. "Your new clothes are in the closet. Whenever you are here, I expect for you to change into them." Easier said than done. Inside the closet was- well, a typical woman's maid uniform: apron, frills, and all.
 
  • Wait, wait, what? His maids? Christov blinked stupidly for a few seconds, before he realized what Nikolaus was implying that he do. He was to be. . . he was to be dressed as a maid. As a woman. The dress, the apron, the frills. He flushed, partly from anger and partly from embarassment. He bristled slightly, wanting to make a sharp retort, but then sighed, and turned to the closet and pulled out the stupid maid's outfit, examining it slightly. Frilly, and girly. Typical of the other man - make him even more embarassed and humiliated by making him dress as a silly little girl.

    He sighed, then reached one hand up to begin to undo the buttons on his overcoat, slipping out of it and dropping it on the floor, before hesitating and loosening his collar, then undoing the front of his uniform, slipping out of it before pulling off the tight-fitting shirt he wore underneath it. The white shirt clung to his skin, showing the easy muscles of someone who was born with them. He turned his back on Nikolaus, not wanting the other man to see him this. . . this. . . vulnerable. But if anything, being under the other man's thumb would make him feel consistently vulnerable.

    Taking off his boots and setting them down, he then stripped off his pants, revealing dark boxers before hurriedly slipping on the black dress of the maid uniform, then the apron and tied it around his back. He frowned; the dress didn't fit quite right across his chest, but was tight enough so he simply looked like a flat-chester girl, and the skirt of the dress fell to mid-thighs.

    "Pleased, are you? To see me this humiliated?" He muttered quietly. "To see me dressed as the opposite sex?" His voice rose quietly, and he glared at Nikolaus, before taking deep breaths and calming down. He kicked his uniform off to one side. "I loathe you." His hands were clenched into fists.

    It was just so damn embarassing, before forced to wear this dress. . .[/list:u]
 
Ahh, he loved that look of realization as it dawned upon a man that he was completely and utterly fucked. As of late, Nikolaus usually associated that look of horror to a jew being sent off on that one-way train ride to camp. And as much as he loved watching those walking skeletons march off to their graves, Christov seemed to do the look a lot more justice. It must have felt terrible going from the top of the pecking order to nothing more than a cross-dressing nobody. Not like Nik cared, of course.

He watched as the other undressed and changed into the maid's outfit, eyes glinting in dark amusement. No doubt, Christov was seething- he saw the look of hate in his eyes before the man turned away. Nikolaus wouldn't be surprised if the bastard would try to kill him in his sleep or the minute he let his guard down. After all, it's not like he had much to lose; his life was already so close to being over if Nikolaus so chose to do so.

The words Christov shot at him only egged the nazi on. He walked over to the other with long, quick strides and grabbed the man's chin roughly between his thumb and index finger. He could feel the other's warm, angered blood beneath his fingertips. "Don't project your anger at me," he growled, "If you weren't a backstabbing liar, you wouldn't be in this mess." He then kicked the abandoned soldier's clothes against the wall and added, "You're not even fit to wear Germany's colors."

He let go of the man's face and it seemed like he was through but that would be too simple. Without any sort of warning, he reached beneath the skirt of the outfit and, with one tug, pulled Christov's boxers down to his ankles. "Maids don't wear these," he grunted before patting his cheek twice. "Now get to work."
 
  • [Haha, sorry it took me awhile to reply. x3 I took a nap as soon as I came home today. ^^;]

    It was all he could do not to simply jerk his chin away and punch Nikolaus in the face when the other man had grabbed his chin. He glared at him, grinding his teeth together has le listened to the other man. "And slime like you aren't fit to even be considered human," he growled in reply, glaring at him, watching as the other man kicked his uniform away. He didn't care, he didn't care about his embarassment. . . He shuddered as Nikolaus let go of his chin.

    Christov jerked away slightly as he felt Nikolaus' fingers slide underneath the skirt of the maid uniform, feeling those cold fingers pluck at his dark boxers, feeling them pull it down. He shuddered as they were yanked down, and as they pulled at his feet. Shame and humiliation colored his face, as he felt helplessly exposed.

    So. He was to be stripped even of that.

    He stood there shaking for a few seconds, eyes lowered. So for his life to be spared, he was to be humiliated, demoted, embarassed and made to be ashamed of himself. All because he had wanted to help his country, wanted to help by ridding it of the terror that was their dictator. Karma certainly had a perverse sense of humor.[/list:u]
 
(XD it's all good)

Nikolaus was tempted to hit the man for that sharp tongue of his, but managed to hold back. After all, it wasn’t too bad of a rebellious attitude and if he began to teach Christov to stop making comments like that, it would take out all the fun in humiliating the man. He still wanted at least a little fight in the guy, as much as he hated him.

He couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction from Christov; as soon as the last garment of his own clothing was removed, it was like the bastard was a whole, new person. A weaker one, at that. That look of shame and humiliation for just being who he was… just like the Jews. After all, the Jews didn’t know what they did to deserve such treatment to their kin- they were just following their religion.

Nik placed a hand on the top of Christov’s head and pushed down, forcing the other to look up. “Now you know what it feels like to be one of those filthy jews you sympathize for,” he grunted disdainfully although his features showed that he was loving every fucking minute of this, "You're no better than them."

The soldier pulled his hand away before gesturing to the kitchen. "I put everything you need to cook on the table. If you don't know how to cook, you damn better well learn. For each time you mess anything up around here, you're getting punished."
 
  • Christov gave a low hiss as he felt a heavy pressure on his head, and then had his head pushed down so that he was forced to raise his eyes to glare at Nikolaus. But after a few brief seconds, he turned his eyes away, not wanting to look him the Nazi anymore - hating the fact that he was being compared to a Jew. He didn't have any anger or hate for them, but he hated that he was being compared to someone who was so weak right now. . .

    And he could just tell that Nikolaus - that asshole - was loving the humiliation.

    He hesitated for a few seconds, then stepped out of his boxers at his feet and turned to the kitchens. Cook, fine. He knew how to do that, even if he wasn't the best at it, considering that he lived alone after his girlfriend broke up with him for wanting to asassinate Hitler.

    Staring at the kitchen table, Christov sighed and got to work, still feeling strange that he was in a dress, and he no longer had his boxers on. He shuddered, still able to feel the other man's fingers against his skin. He wanted to scour at the area, make it hurt so he couldn't have that disgusting feeling anymore. Nevermind - time to get to work now, quickly and carefully. He dreaded to think of what the punishments were.[/list:u]
 
Once the other headed off to the kitchen, Nikolaus made his way up the narrow stairs to his bedroom to change out of his uniform. A soft sigh passed through his lips as he pulled off the jacket and placed it neatly on the hanger, soon followed by unbuckling his belt and folding it neatly on the lower bar. He left his undershirt on underneath, pulling on a white, button-up shirt over his shoulders and black slacks to cover his legs. Nikolaus combed his fingers through his hair once, satisfied with his wardrobe change, and then headed back downstairs.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found Christov busy with his work- as he should be. However, once again, Nik was left with nothing to do while he waited for the other to complete his task. He had to start thinking of some demands he could give the guy that wouldn't take too long to do so he wouldn't have so much time in between where he'd be waiting and thus, grow bored.

He huffed at his own boredom before sitting down on one of the chairs, watching Christov as he cooked and praying for a chance to watch the other slip up. He was silent for a while, merely watching the man go about the kitchen. However, all pauses had to come to an end. "Mmn, I guess trying to kill der fuhrer really wasn't worth it after all," he drawled. "Imagine how much easier things would have been for you."
 
  • Christov relaxed slightly when he heard Nikolaus leave, and head somewhere, most likely to his room. Thank goodness - he didn't need the man watching him, searching for every mistake that he did. Hopefully, the man would simply stay there for the entire time that he was to be making dinner. He doubted it, though. . .

    Fine, that would be for the best anyway.

    However, that was not to be the case, just as he thought so. He heard footsteps behind him, signally that Nikolaus had returned from whatever he was doing (changing clothes, as Christov found out when he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that he was out of his uniform). But he didn't say anything, only stood there, watching him. God, that was nervewracking, having the man stand there, watching everything he did. . .

    "Shit!" Hearing Nikolaus speak, Christov dropped the dish he was carrying, and flinched hearing it crash against the floor. He held his breath, slightly afraid as to what his 'punishment' would be as the dish broke against the floor. Shit - he stared at Nikolaus, feeling his heart beat frantically.

    Yeah, life would be easier, indeed.[/list:u]
 
(ffslsdkf it's short, sorry XD)

Nikolaus was about to give up hope in waiting for Christov to screw up this round but- wait, what was that? I believe I just saw a mess-up. He saw the dish fall first, but it didn't register to Nik what was happening until he heard the other swear and all of his hopes were confirmed with the loud clatter of the dish on the floor in the otherwise-quiet home. His eyes lit up, but his expression showed that he was far from happy about one of his plates being broken.

"Great, you broke one of my fucking dishes," he hissed, eyes narrowed at the other. Nikolaus could see in Christov's expression that he knew that whatever was about to go down would be quite unpleasant. He rose from his chair and walked over to the man and his hand rose towards the mans face- at first it seemed like he was going to grab his chin again, but instead, Christov was greeted with a hard smack across the face.

"Now you're going to pick every goddamn piece of that up. And when you're done, lean over the table."
 
  • He stood there, stockstill, as he feared for what was going to happen to him, however, he wasn't too surprised when the other man slapped him acros the face, snapping his head off to one side with the force of the blow, one small cry coming from him. His cheek smarted sharply, and there was a faint, red handprint on his cheek. Christov refrained from raising one hand to his face, as if he was in disbelief. But he wasn't in disbelief. . .

    Bend over the table. . .? Why?

    Nevermind. Just pick up the broken pieces on the floor now. Bending down, the man slowly began to pick them up, face red again as he was forced down on his hands and knees in front of Nikolaus. He picked up the pieces, thankful that they broke into large shards. Finally having picked all of them up, he stood to threw them away into the trashbin.

    He hesitated for a second, standing next to the table, thankful that he had moved everything off of it, before gripping the edge of the table and bending over, feeling the skirt ride up his ass, exposing some of the smooth and firm flesh. What the hell was Nikolaus going to do to him in this position?

    Sometimes, he was just so naive when it came to the cruelty of people.[/list:u]
 
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