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A quiet and beautiful July night. A warm summer breeze gently sways the lush green crowns of the trees. During the day, it was always the height of the heat, but, thankfully, at night people could rest and cool down a little. Rare passers-by strolled back and forth unhurriedly before bed. When the sun shone, it was problematic to walk, very hot. This, one could say, was abnormal for those regions at that time.
A soft creak of a door, barely audible footsteps. Hitler is roughly pressed against the wall.
«Ich bringe dich um, Joseph...» («I'll kill you, Joseph...») Adolf hisses, pressing his hands against the chest of the man opposite him. This gesture is absolutely meaningless and staged, because he likes it. True, somewhere deep down, but still...
Slightly rough whiskers tickle his neck, and Stalin once again leaves a red, blushing mark on the Führer's neck. He exhales raggedly, clinging tighter to the Georgian's neck. His legs betray him, and Adolf is no longer able to stand properly.
«Come here...» Koba whispers and pulls Adolf towards him. Adolf, barely moving his legs, follows the man, quietly cursing himself and him.
Somewhere in his subconscious, a small anxiety ripples. Out of the corner of his eye, Adolf looks distrustfully at the door, which could very well open at any second. The man tightens his lips and for a moment shifts his attention to the door, piercing it with his gaze. Hitler stops abruptly and «leaves» reality.
It always seems to him that everyone knows about everything. They know, but they don't say anything. They know what he does in the evenings. They know why his neck is always covered by high shirt collars. And all these problems exist because of one overly amorous Georgian...
«Everything okay?» Hitler snaps back to reality, blinks a couple of times, and focuses his attention on his lover, who was holding his hand and looking at him with slight concern. The Führer caught the questioning intonation and merely gestured with his gaze towards the door. After all, it's a bad idea to kiss in the office. Even if it's night. Someone might need something even at such a late hour. The wall clock breaks the silence; it's two in the morning.
«Calm down, I locked the door.» Koba smiles softly and sits on the sofa. Then he abruptly pulls the Führer towards him. Adolf barely manages to react so as not to, literally, imprint himself on the man's chest. His cheeks turn crimson as the Austrian carefully sits on the USSR leader's lap.
«Gott, ich werde vor Scham verbrennen...» («God, I'm going to burn with shame...») Hitler chuckles nervously and hisses softly. That damn bite again. Stalin smiles cunningly and firmly squeezes the Führer's soft spot. Damn it, is he even blushing?
«Behalte deine Hände bei dir...» («Keep your hands to yourself...») the damned Georgian just chuckles quietly and, completely emboldened, reaches under the shirt.
«Oh, come on... you like it!» Adolf doesn't hear, only looks into those deep dark eyes. Hitler exhales raggedly and, with trembling hands, tries to unbutton Joseph's shirt. He himself, at the same time, continues to shamelessly touch the Führer everywhere he can reach. From such hot and desired touches, Adolf practically melts. Leaving the buttons alone, which wouldn't budge anyway, he buries his hands in the Georgian's hair, deliberately messing up his hairstyle. The picture on Adolf's head was no better. Black strands crossed his forehead and partially covered his eye.
«One day we will be exposed... One day they will expose us...» — Hitler is sure of it. Although the chance was one in a billion. They somehow managed to keep this illicit relationship a secret for several years.
«Lie down.» Joseph commands, roughly pushing the Führer into the sofa and leaning over him. Adolf didn't even have time to squeak before he was in a position where he could barely move.
«Du bist wunderschön…» («You are beautiful…») the Führer whispers, barely audibly, and closes his eyes. Embarrassment still lingers, and Hitler's cheeks are covered with a rosy blush. Joseph smiles gently, leaning on one armrest, leans down, and gently kisses the man on the lips, stroking his cheek with his other hand. Adolf relaxes a little and returns the kiss, throwing his legs over the General Secretary's waist. His hands buried themselves in his hair again, squeezing them slightly. His heart pounds wildly, and his breathing quickens. He wants more, much more…
«Cos'hai?» («What's wrong with you?») Benito Mussolini looks at the Führer, who is not himself today, with incomprehension. He is somehow very nervous. Adolf's eye twitches, and he paces back and forth, refusing to sit and calm down.
«And where is Dov'è quel Joseph?» Dovrebbe essere qui anche lui.» («Where is this Joseph? He was supposed to be here too.») Mentioning this person's name makes Hitler even more nervous, clenching his fist. Did the Duce find out something?! The Italian notices this strange change and looks at the man opposite him in bewilderment.
«Halt die Klappe!» («Shut up!») Adolf suddenly shouts, surprising both of them. Benito jumps from the shock. After looking Hitler up and down, he finds nothing extraordinary. Everything is as usual. But the mood is clearly not the best.
«Non hai dormito abbastanza?» («Did you not sleep enough?») At this, Hitler finally flares up and sharply turns around. His cheeks redden again, either from anger or embarrassment.
«Nein! Mir geht's gut!» («No! I'm fine!») he shouts, crosses the distance to the door, wrenches it open, and literally runs away in an unknown direction, leaving Mussolini completely bewildered.
«Di cosa si trattava?..» («What was that all about?..»)
«You're too emotional...» Koba says softly, gently stroking Adolf's hair. They are now standing embraced in some far corner of the building. No one will notice or find them.
«Halt einfach die Klappe, bitte…» («Just shut up, please…»)