close encounters (dieter hellstrom x reader) ->18+
summary: didn't your mother never tell you not to play with your food.; reader is working as a spy, but when she's faced with major hellstrom himself, has to think on her feet for a way to save her skin
warnings: 18+!!, public blowjobs, probably unhygienic idk, blowjobs in an alleyway?, look u know the drill
a.n: heheh i LOVED writing this im so hard on my august shit rn. would just like to say thank u all so much for saying such nice things about my work it literally means the whole world i love u all sm mwah mwah. some very strange things are happening in my flatmate's room so apologies if the proofreading is distracted
You had spotted him from across the bar a while ago. There was no mistaking it: it was him that they'd sent.
You'd heard rumours about Dieter Hellstrom, of course - everybody had. It was just that you'd always prayed you'd never have to actually meet him. It didn't help that you'd been spying on Nazi operations for the past three months; you couldn't have taken a more high-risk position for coming face to face with the man himself.
Espionage work wasn't new to you; in fact, at this point you were one of the best in the field. Whenever your government needed a job doing well, they called on you. The rumours of a film premiere with some of the highest ranking SS officers had brought you here, to a pub in the back of beyond in a country where your accent was dubious at best. The brief of the mission had been to intercept some of the officers involved in the organisation of the event, and if possible secure yourself entry.
You weren't particularly nervous, after all you'd been pulling the wool over the Gestapo's eyes for months now, and to your knowledge none of them were any the wiser. And it was nice to finally have an excuse to dress up. You didn't have to worry about strange looks from the locals as the place was only frequented by German soldiers, so your intonation slipped nicely under the radar.
You had been sitting at a table by yourself for some time now, a sticky wooden desk surrounded by three empty chairs. The place itself was fairly lively despite how late the hour was getting. You'd been given a description of the men to target, a pair of high-ranking officers, one of whom had a distinctive facial scar, the other stout and blonde. You'd waited a long time by now, especially given that you'd expected them an hour ago. It was getting harder to stay sober, trying to keep up appearances by working your way through glass after glass of red wine. On most missions it was easy to stay sober, all you did was make conversation with your targets rather than tend to your drink.
But now, alone, you had no other choice. Halfway through a pack of cigarettes too, you were beginning to get a little nervous. A few men had come up to you periodically, questioning why such a pretty lady was sat all by herself. You would dismiss them with a laugh, tell them you were waiting for someone, joke that maybe you'd been stood up. They were all so pissed they forgot about you soon enough.
Then you saw him. You were just going up to get another drink when he caught your eye. By now the rest of the soldiers were in nothing but their shirts, shit-faced and making merry, whereas he sat alone at the back of the place, reading a book of all things. His composure was unwavering and he'd barely touched his drink.
Immediately you turned your head away, hoping, praying that he'd take no notice of you. You drummed your fingers nervously on the bar, begging that the bartender would hurry up. So long as you slipped back in time everything would be fine. You wanted to sneak another look, but you were too worried of poking the bear. You knew it was Major Hellstrom purely from the uniform. In all honesty, you were a little surprised at how attractive he was, how well-kempt, how young. You'd always imagined a man of his reputation to be older: it was worrying to you how quickly he must've climbed the ranks of the Gestapo, what he'd had to do to attain such a position.
You all-but ran back to your table, mumbling out a thanks. When you glanced back Dieter was in the same position he had been, and you felt like you'd got away safe this time. There was no more room for mistakes like that.
But why was he here in the first place? Your nerves began to stand on edge. Looking around the bar, there was still no sign of the two officials, yet the Sturmbannführer himself was here, in some secluded countryside bar - something wasn't adding up.
Then and there you decided to call it off. Someone must've snitched on you - or perhaps you hadn't been as careful as you'd thought. You'd managed to slip past the major this time, but you weren't willing to risk it a srcond time. You were just moving to take up your bag when the floorboards by your table groaned under the weight of heavy boots, and one of the seats nearby was pulled out.
It was him, of course it was him. Before you stood Dieter Hellstrom in all of his glory, polished hat glinting under the light, carrying a crystalline glass and holding his book under one arm. There was a moment of recognition between the pair of you, but from the way he was hesitating you could tell he wanted to play. Didn't your mother never tell you not to play with your food.
If you were to make it out of this alive, you were going to have to think of something good - and fast. There was only one thing that worked every time.
You gave him a small smile, reluctantly putting your bag back down after retrieving a fresh pack of cigarettes. "Well, it seems my date's stood me up. I don't see any reason to stay."
"Oh, were you waiting for someone?" he asked, though his smirk told you he knew everything already.
You steeled your nerves, shrugged. "Not anymore."
"Well you won't mind if I join you then?"
"Be my guest." What were you doing?
Dieter sat down, putting down his book and laying down his hat on top. His dark hair was strictly combed, precise and executed to perfection like everything else about him.
"You know, I find it rather hard to believe someone as beautiful as you would get stood up," he said. Again, you gave a wry smile and balanced a cigarette between your lips. Before you had a chance to reach for your lighter you heard a click and watched as a flame danced from Dieter's outstretched hand. Though you hesitated for a moment you accepted the kindness, leaning a little over the table as you lit it, shamelessly making sure he had a clear view down your dress.
"It's a shame not all men are as courteous as you are-" You trailed off, asking for his name.
"Dieter," he said, though it existed between you already.
You offered him your hand and he kissed it with a smile, his warm lips lingering a little too long on your knuckles. He observed you with a smirk for a short while, the pair of you sizing each other up, wondering about the others' next move. The tension between you was palpable, neither of you wanting to be the first to give up the game.
You consoled yourself with the thought that if he was certain of your criminality he would've shot you by now. No, he must have something else he wanted first.
"No," he said so suddenly you jumped. He shook his head, pursing his lips together with brows furrowed in confusion. "It doesn't make sense to me. Every single man would've gone through hell to get here tonight if it was to see you. Believe me, I know. It just doesn't make sense."
"There's no need to pour salt in the wound," you sighed, feigning disappointment.
"Who was it that you were meeting?"
You held his eye, mocking gaze unwavering. All of this was building up to something. He was toying with you and when you least expected it he was going to pounce. You knew the only way to save yourself was to intercept his tirade.
"I don't know his name: it was supposed to be a blind date."
"You were willing to go on a date with a man whose name you don't even know, who you'd never met before? Weren't you worried he might be dangerous?"
"What?" you smiled, loosening the strap of your dress a little. "Like you are?"
Oh, he liked that. Dieter grinned wide, like a shark, and finished his third cigarette since he'd sat down. By now he'd worked his way through two whiskies and you were satisfied that his judgment was sufficiently impaired.
"Yes, Fräulein (Y/L/N), like I am."
You hesitated. Hearing your name from his lips without telling him it knocked you off your guard a little, but you'd come this far: giving up now would be death.
"Perhaps then, you'd be willing to take his place," you whispered. That seemed to catch him off guard. Dieter's eyes glanced back down at your chest, the way your strap faltered at your shoulder and you saw him shift in his seat. Bingo.
"Perhaps I could. It depends what you had in mind."
The way he looked at you was as a man who's abandoned all reason for madness. Your advances seemed to have quelled every notion of duty in him, every desire to put you to death: he was acting on a purely instinctual level now, and he was aching for you.
Slowly you rose to your feet, allowing him time to take in your form, pleased that you had made the effort to dress up for tonight. You stood above him, observing him from a height, the way his breath was unsteady, how his hand shook a little as he rubbed his thigh.
You outstretched a hand to him. "Follow me."
He needed no more encouragement and you quietly slipped him out into the alleyway behind the bar.
Now, this certainly wasn't your finest moment, but the alcohol had hit your system brutally, and all you could think of was how good he smelled, the way his trousers were growing tighter as he watched you. Gently you pushed him back against the wall, the pair of you grinning like idiots.
You slowly began to run your hands over him, tracing along the soft material of his uniform. It was nice for a little, but he wasn't in the mood for waiting around. Wordlessly you sunk to your knees, holding his eyes the whole way down and relishing the way his chest began to heavy with anticipation. You noticed the glint of the gun at his hip, and you had the perfect opportunity to execute him there and then, but you were so lost in the moment, so desperate to touch him you resisted. Even if it cost you your life, at this point you didn't care.
Equally, you were at a perfect height now for him to shoot you, in fact that's what he'd been sent there to do - what he'd had every intention of doing until thirty minutes ago. But fuck if he was about to interrupt you when you were looking at him like that.
There was a quiet truce between you - you both wanted this as badly as the other, and until it was done at least you were safe.
Instinctively Dieter brought a hand to your hair, gently stroking it at first, even trailing a finger across your cheek. You took your time loosening his belt, making a show of slipping the clasp from its buckle. You ushered down the hem of his trousers, pressing small kisses against his hips teasingly. Immediately his grip on your hair tightened, a small moan escaping his lips at your soft gestures.
If you were going to do it, you were going to do it right. When you were sure he couldn't wait any longer you thumbed the elastic of his boxers, finally freeing his hardened length. His breathing was shaky at the feeling of the night's air hitting his exposed member, and you caught him give a precursory glance to the alley to make sure you were alone.
Biting your lip with anticipation you wrapped a hand around his aching cock, drawing your thumb up to the head.
"Fuck," he whispered, trying to keep his composure. The way you looked up at him through your lashes was enough to drive him mad, and it was only through curiosity that he hadn't started fucking your face.
"Do you like that?" you whispered teasingly as you started to work his length. A low groan was all Dieter could muster as a response, his nails reaching out to run against your scalp. You pressed down on a long vein that ran the length of his shaft, making him throw his head back against the wall.
"Come on," he muttered. He gently tried to guide your head closer to his member, but you pushed back, holding your ground. You looked up at him playfully, smiling as you continued the movements of your hand. "Don't make me beg," he practically whined.
"I don't know, I think I'd quite enjoy you begging."
He almost growled at you, and for a second you wondered if he'd just force your head down, but when you licked a teasing stripe along the side of his member, he realised he wasn't above begging.
"Please, fuck, please just - I need it."
He breathed a loud sigh of relief when you finally wrapped your mouth around the head, reaching out to lap at the first drops of precum. You sunk down onto his length, slowly, savouring every inch, never once breaking eye contact. Dieter's pupils were completely blown-out with pleasure and his chest was heaving with every laboured breath.
It wasn't long before the power switched. As his high began to build the grip on your hair tightened, and soon enough he was the one directing your every movement. He set a brutal pace, and gave you hardly any time to relax your throat. His length was heavy in your mouth and you knew your throat would be raw by the morning.
You knew he was close when his rhythm became erratic, delving so far into your mouth your eyes began to water. You held onto his hips for balance which only gave him better leverage to fuck you.
"Chirst, fuck-" A string of curses was all he could manage, but your name was the final thing on his lips as he released into your mouth, his warm seed painting the back of your throat. You swallowed every drop, not only from necessity but from want.
He held your head still for a while and you could tell how far gone he was by how his legs visibly shook.
When he finally relaxed his grip, you could hardly breathe. Though you had relinquished the situation to him, you counted it a victory that you were still alive. What truly surprised you was when he reached down to wrap a hand around your jaw, smirking at the dried cum clinging to your lips.
"If you ever get tired of betraying your country, come and find me."
