Work Text:
Katharina couldn't lie and say she hadn't thought about it. Not when they were girls — Katharina was much too busy worrying about surviving until her eighteenth birthday for that. And then there had been Ulrich. But when the two of them were older, once Hannah had grown a few measly inches that made her reach the tip of Katharina’s nose, and filled out — her babyface disappearing overnight and turning her into someone unrecognizable — then she caught Katharina's attention.
Hannah had always been her little shadow, eight inches shorter than her and prim where Katharina was unruly. The two of them made quite the pair. But Katharina wasn’t stupid, she knew Hannah had plenty of cruelty resting under her freckled skin, maybe even more than Katharina did. Or just a different strain of it. Katharina had been quietly devastated in her early twenties to find her anger had not dissipated with age. She was an angry child and an angry adult, the same way Hannah had been a cruel child and was now a cruel adult.
When they were teenagers, neither one of them wanted to have children. But two unplanned children in, Katharina began to wonder if Hannah would make a better mother than her. Everything between them brimmed with unspoken competition, that was the way it always had been. When Katharina had Magnus she was scared out of her mind, convinced it would be her only one. Ulrich had been full of encouraging words as she panicked, always believing her to be better than she was, capable of overcoming everything that she had done and had been done to her. Katharina still wasn’t so sure. Hannah had nothing to offer her in the way of affirmations, but she sat with her on most days and that had been enough.
Not more than a year after Magnus, Katharina was pregnant again, and just as scared. One was enough. Ulrich, as great as he was, was busy. But his words were so attractive, and Katharina acquiesced. Two was ok. Two was fine. It would be nice for Magnus to have a sibling. But still the doubt ate at her mind.
Unbeknownst to Katharina, Hannah was breaking her childhood promise too. They saw each other less as was to be expected with an infant in Katharina’s house. She barely found time to sleep much less go out. But word traveled fast in Winden, and not even Hannah Kahnwald was safe from the gossip mill that pervaded it. Though Hannah had kept it a secret for as long as possible, foregoing any of the usual celebrations, it soon became impossible to hide. She was pregnant. Tentative congratulations began to pour in. Looks, smiles. Michael seemed scared when Katharina saw him in public. Hannah was just a blank slate.
By the time Katharina's second was five months old, she stopped seeing Hannah at the supermarket. It was as if Hannah had disappeared all together — nobody saw her anywhere. Michael became the middle man, constantly being asked how his wife was doing, never providing satisfactory answers. She’s tired, he always said when people questioned why she stayed home so often. Katharina suspected it was as much about the attention as anything else. She knew Hannah hated the looks, the well wishes, the asking after. Hannah survived off of being invisible. And not many things made people fuss after you more than a pregnancy.
It was Ulrich who encouraged her to go to the cottage and visit Hannah. Katharina had never been one for checking in, and Hannah had never been the type to like unannounced visitors. But Ulrich reminded her that Hannah had been there for her, and that was that. Nobody knew better what would make her guilty than Ulrich. Admittedly Katharina didn’t like the idea of Hannah home alone all day every day, what with Michael at work most of the time. It made Katharina resent him a little bit. Michael was meant to look after Hannah, but he seemed too scared, too wrapped up in his own guilt to do so. And so Katharina began her visits to the cottage, playing husband for a few hours each day, helping a fairly miserable Hannah cook and clean while she watched Martha and Magnus.
It was then — that first time Hannah opened the door — that she remembers seriously considering it.
She couldn’t help but let her gaze linger for a moment. How had Hannah let anyone do this to her body? Hannah, who kept her cards so close to her chest she might as well have put them inside herself; Hannah who always seemed to be protecting herself from something. What would it feel like, to have that power over her, to be on top of her, pinning her down, being inside of her? Katharina could count on one hand the number of times she'd had the upper hand in their relationship.
Hannah didn’t have that mystical pregnancy glow. One might not even call her beautiful. Her previous looks hadn’t faded, her delicate shoulders, her attractive face, the charming freckles on her cheeks, but that was now overshadowed by the swell of her stomach that seemed to engulf her. It was as if she had been colonized.
But Katharina just smiled when she opened the door that first time, and all of the times that followed. She handed Hannah her daughter and brought food and sat quietly, refusing to leave even when Hannah could do nothing but sleep. Maybe it really wasn't just the embarrassment that kept her from the public. Katharina had never been so run down when she was pregnant. Sometimes Hannah looked downright sickly. Once or twice Katharina couldn’t overcome the urge to press her palm to Hannah’s forehead, half scared she’d find her feverish and half scared she’d get her hand bitten off.
"It won't be so bad." Katharina says as they sit on the couch one afternoon. Her two children had finally settled down after screeching for hours and Katharina was able to look at them fondly instead of with frustration. She practically believed what she was saying. They could both do this. They could be decent mothers, they could move on from all of their shit. Hannah shifts her head a bit to show she heard her, propped up with a million pillows, legs thrown over Katharina's lap. One of Katharina's hands comes to rest on her stomach.
It was the most they'd touched in a long time. Neither one of them had ever been very inclined towards physical affection as children, preferring to simply sit in each other’s presence. But Hannah had been particularly bad today, silent and unwilling to eat for hours. Nearly as frustrating as the children, Katharina wanted to scream at her what are you thinking, what are you feeling, why won’t you speak? All Katharina had managed to get out of her was that she hurt. Somewhere, everywhere maybe. So she lets Katharina rub slow circles into her skin, like a sick teenager finally accepting comfort, looking at Katharina as if she was trying to figure out her grand scheme. It verged on unnerving, the lack of bite in Hannah these days. She hardly snapped back, hardly had a thing to say at all. All she had left were those dark eyes.
"Relax. You make yourself sick from thinking so much." Katharina quips, drumming her fingers on the taunt skin over Hannah’s belly. She could feel shifting beneath the skin, the painful press of an elbow or knee that made Hannah wince. What she said was mostly bullshit to fill the air, but at least Hannah let her head fall back onto the pillows and stopped analyzing everything. Katharina starts to rub Hannah’s skin mindlessly, looking around the room. A bowl of half-eaten grapes sit on the table next to a mug of tea. Next to that a stack of books, a bottle of aspirin. A portrait of Hannah Kahnwald. It makes Katharina feel a little sick, a little helpless. What could she do? Katharina was always the brooding one, the one with head wounds and bleeding cuts. She didn’t have much experience patching people up. So she just keeps up her slow, soothing circles.
Katharina’s hand is travelling lower on Hannah’s body before she realizes what she’s doing. Up and over the swell she goes and then she’s on the other side, rubbing at hips and the precarious strip of skin below Hannah’s belly that bordered on inappropriate. Her shirt had ridden up there, and suddenly Katharina’s fingers are touching bare skin.
Hannah shifts against the couch. Now Katharina’s really thinking. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? If she had to guess she'd say since the pregnancy was unavoidable, the guest was here. Neither Michael nor Hannah could ignore it anymore. Four months maybe. Katharina's hand moves to her thighs.
She figures most men didn't like their wives pregnant. Sure, the idea was attractive, the evidence of their accomplishment, but then skin stretched and the belly protruded and an uninvited visitor became a staple in their bed. Their wife was no longer their wife, she was a mother. And a mother was not meant to be touched. Maybe it was fear. They mistake the whole thing for fragility. Maybe it's disgust at the changing body, the rearranged organs, the protruding veins.
"Hannah..." She says lowly. Her hand still moves in slow circles over the fabric of Hannah’s sweatpants, safely on the outside of her thigh. Hannah nods before she can continue. Katharina hesitates for a moment before Hannah arches upwards slightly, clearly encouraging her.
Katharina’s unoccupied hand pushes under Hannah’s shirt, twisting around the back to unhook her bra, finding nothing but bare skin. Hannah chuckles.
“Who do I need to be all dressed up for?”
Katharina shrugs, swallowing heavily. Hannah's skin is cool, even under all the blankets, and it feels like a balm on Katharina's hands. She finds herself wanting to unbutton Hannah’s soft pink shirt, the one clenched in her grasp, but the room is too cold. The cabin is always freezing by the time late October rolled around, and Katharina knows Hannah is too worried about money to turn the thermostat up. She’s already shivering now that the blanket had been shoved aside, so Katharina settles for running her hands up to Hannah’s chest under the fabric.
"Tell me if it hurts." Katharina says quietly, falling into the same role she complained about with Ulrich when she was pregnant — gentle and a bit nervous. Hannah nods again.
They’re both silent as Katharina palms at her chest, trying not to act like some teenage boy feeling up his first girlfriend. She knows her own chest is heaving, the embarrassment only lessened by Hannah’s squirming. They’re both impatient by nature. Normally Katharina would exploit that, want to make her wait and wait, to earn this. But Hannah feels almost absurdly good under her fingertips. It never occurred to Katharina how soft her skin would be, how different it would feel from the solidness of Ulrich’s chest. Katharina isn’t thinking about competing anymore. Denying Hannah anything would be denying herself as well.
It’s tempting to attempt to do this all on the couch — truthfully her entire body revolts at the idea of pulling her hands out from under Hannah’s shirt. But the position is getting awkward, with Katharina trying to lean over Hannah's knees and the bump of her stomach without falling onto the floor. So she sits back, hands still on Hannah’s hips. Hannah meets her gaze with blown pupils.
"Let's go upstairs." Katharina knows Hannah doesn’t have a guest room anymore, just a nursery. They’ll have to go into the master bedroom, fuck on the bed Hannah shares with her husband. Regardless, Hannah doesn’t seem to think about it long. She wrenches herself up from the couch with Katharina’s help and makes her way to the stairs. Following her, Katharina snags a baby monitor from the side table and suddenly feels glad they’re both fully clothed as the chill of the air hits her skin again. It doesn't take long to get to the door of the master bedroom. Hannah looks at her before opening the door, giving her a chance to back out if she wants to. Katharina pushes the door open.
The room is a bit messy, clothes sitting half-folded in chairs and closet doors left open. Hannah mumbles half of an apology that Katharina immediately dismisses.
"Michael should be doing the cleaning. You can barely get off the couch."
Hannah looks at her and says nothing. With her enlarged pupils her eyes look even darker than usual. It’s something that has always unnerved Katharina, the depths of those eyes. She wonders if there's some kind of void in Hannah, if she'll get sucked into it if she's not careful. After a moment where they do nothing but look at each other, she moves to sit on the bed.
“Can you —” Hannah pauses, “I don’t like when people sit on the bed with their outside clothes.”
Katharina can’t help the laugh that bursts out of her. Hannah furrows her brow, blushing red with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” Katharina puts a hand on Hannah’s hip, “I just — I can’t believe I forgot. We used to argue about this all the time.”
Hannah actually smiles at that before her hands find Katharina’s belt buckle. Then the room is silent again.
“Go ahead.” Katharina whispers when Hannah’s hands don’t move. The sound of her buckle loosening then her jeans hitting the floor splits the air right open. She shivers, feeling like she could burst into flames at any moment. Hannah’s hands run along her thighs with surprising gentleness.
Then she’s sitting against the headboard in the middle of the bed gesturing for Hannah to get on her lap and Hannah is hesitating.
"You're not that heavy. Besides, I'm taller."
"Not by much." Hannah scoffs.
“Anymore.” Katharina smiles at the sound of life in Hannah’s voice.
Hannah gives her one last look of exasperation, one that betrays more fondness than Katharina has seen from her in years, and moves forward. She pushes her soft sweatpants down around her ankles. Katharina hasn't seen her this undressed since they were both girls, since before Hannah had any curves to speak of, wrapped in those plaid woolen skirts.
She pulls Hannah slowly onto her lap, letting her settle until she finds a comfortable position. A moment of panic seizes her, her heart thumping out of her chest. Hannah is here, really on top of her. Their bare legs are pressing against each other. Hannah’s hand is coming to rest on her chest, leading her in a deep breath like she’s one of Hannah’s clients. Katharina closes her eyes, trying to collect herself.
Hannah’s eyes meet hers when they reopen. She smiles softly and raises her eyebrows as if to say, are you just going to sit there? Katharina’s hands find the buttons of her blouse in response. Step by step the shirt falls open, revealing more and more as they go. Then it’s falling off of Hannah shoulders and she’s bare before her.
Katharina wastes no time in running her hands over Hannah’s breasts, cupping the weight of them in her palms. She ducks her head to pull sensitive skin into her mouth, earning herself a sharp gasp from Hannah. She knows Hannah can feel the smug smile on her face. Katharina pulls her closer, wanting the press of skin against skin everywhere, not just on her mouth. The responding hand in her hair seems like a good thing before she’s yanked backwards.
"Take your shirt off." Hannah commands plainly, tugging the hem upwards. "It's scratchy."
Katharina complies without thinking and tries not to sigh when Hannah runs her hands along the lines of her back. Nothing but her own hand had been on her skin for weeks. Ulrich is busy and she’s exhausted, sex is usually the furthest thing from her mind. When it isn't, there's no time for it anyway.
Hannah’s hands unclasp her bra and skirt under her arms to the side of her breasts and Katharina can’t help the tremor that runs through her. She tells herself it's time that's making her so responsive to Hannah. Or that anyone would get turned on from having Hannah in their grasp, as beautiful as she is. It's not just Katharina. She's doing nothing wrong, helping out someone who needs her. Excuses, excuses, her mother’s scornful voice echoes in her head. Katharina renews her focus on Hannah, doing her best to ignore the mess growing between her thighs.
Hannah's skin is flushed pleasantly from her breasts to her cheeks, and the sickly note of it has faded. Katharina grabs her thighs and massages slowly, pulling her into a kiss for the first time. Hannah tastes of black tea and caramel hard candies. Her teeth clack against Katharina's. In an unthinkable move she lets Katharina grab her jaw and shift it so she can kiss her throat easier.
The relative silence in the room is broken by a whimper when Katharina tugs lightly on a piece of skin at the crux of Hannah's neck with her teeth. The sound is so shocking Katharina nearly responds with one of her own. Her hands massage hips once more, one of them moving back to Hannah's chest.
"Does it feel good?" Katharina asks, pulling back.
Hannah smiles, accepting the momentary shift in power readily. Katharina has always been the one who needs praise, though she hides it. A flash of the face Katharina knows appears, the cunning smirk, and then it's suppressed. Hannah strokes Katharina's hair softly.
"Yes."
Katharina can't help the smile that grows on her face. It’s nice to feel a little bit of familiarity, the sourness of the two of them mixed in with the sweet. She flips them over carefully, laying Hannah on her back. Hannah spreads her legs in a clear invitation — and who is Katharina to deny her in this moment?
Maybe she should call her beautiful, or say she wants her so bad, or she feels so good, but none of that falls from Katharina’s lips. It feels blasé. She does want Hannah, wants to devour her and crawl inside her all at once; and Hannah does look beautiful; and she does feel wonderful. There’s just no point in saying it. Instead she kisses her again, pushing one of Hannah’s knees up to her chest and running a hand over her underwear. She finds the fabric damp, soaked really, and such a thing is a miracle coming from Hannah. This can’t be covered up, hidden, lied about. A desire so plain Katharina feels heady with it.
Hannah whimpers again, and Katharina wonders if she’s doing it because she knows it drives her insane. She runs her fingers along the seam of Hannah's cunt again, pressing ever so slightly. Hannah squirms, chest rising and falling dramatically. A hand comes to claw at Katharina's back.
"Christ…" Katharina mumbles into Hannah's shoulder, feeling her hips buck up against her.
She wants to know how long it's been since someone touched Hannah, how long since someone made her feel good, made her cum. Hannah's hands are digging into her shoulder blades, probably leaving bright red crescent shaped marks in their wake. She throws her head back further, giving Katharina plenty of space to nip at her neck, then at the underside of her breast.
Hannah's legs spread even further apart as Katharina snakes downward. She runs a hand along Hannah's belly, not confident enough to mouth at it. Instead she kisses a line up the inside of Hannah's thigh, ignoring the obvious cues to hurry the hell up. Sweat gathers at the back of Hannah’s knee where Katharina is still grasping it, and she can’t resist the urge to leave an angry mark at the flushed skin. She wants to give Hannah the relief she needs, but she's also interested to see how Hannah will act when she's lost her mind.
"Katharina," it's clear Hannah means for her tone to be menacing but it comes out broken and wanting, "please. I need it."
Katharina hooks her index finger under the elastic of Hannah's underwear and drags it down her legs. Hannah's glistening underneath. Preoccupied with throwing the panties across the room, Katharina misses Hannah snap her legs together for a little friction. She groans, and Katharina’s eyes shoot back to her.
Katharina tsks and pries open her legs promptly. Hannah’s wet enough that it paints part of her thighs. Katharina ducks down without thinking and licks a stripe up her skin to capture it all on her tongue.
Hannah cries out, biting her lip to stifle the noise. Katharina looks up at her, back arched and eyes screwed shut, and she takes pity on her. She's waited long enough, been more than pliant where Katharina expected harsh resistance.
"Is there anything you don't want me to do?" Katharina asks, trying to keep her wits about her. The last thing she wants is to accidentally hurt her. She's good at it, and she's done it plenty of times before.
"No, no. I'll tell you if I don't like it."
Katharina tentatively swipes two fingers through swollen folds begging for her attention. Hannah cries out. Katharina feels light-headed with the power. Her question of what it feels like to have Hannah Kahnwald at your mercy is answered. It feels fucking fantastic. Like a drug, like something addictive.
Hannah pulls Katharina ever closer when a knuckle brushes her clit. Katharina presses harder for a brief second, letting Hannah agonize over it. She thinks it's a marvel Hannah wasn't pregnant in the first month of her marriage — if Katharina were in Michael's shoes she'd never let Hannah leave the bed. She tells her as much and feels the wetness gathered around her hand increase.
"Katharina I need—" Hannah cuts herself off with a violent shiver, "I need you inside. Inside please."
“You’ll get it in just a moment.” Katharina kisses her cheek, brushing a piece of sweaty hair from her eyes.
Her fingertips circle around Hannah’s opening, and a smug grin grows on her face at the fluttering of the muscle beneath her touch. Hannah really does need it, badly enough that the shame of asking for it is less than the torture of being teased.
“Katharina…” Hannah whines again, but Katharina cuts her off.
“Believe me, I know you need it.”
Katharina pulls her two fingers up for Hannah to look at. She puts them in her mouth, licking them clean. It feels more erotic than anything she’s ever done. Hannah looks like she might faint.
“I’ll do anything.” Hannah says, and for once in her life Katharina believes her. She could truly get Hannah to agree to anything.
It feels to cruel to ask anything of her now. Instead, Katharina pushes two fingers easily into her, ripping a groan from Hannah’s throat. She’s always left the psychological warfare for Hannah. Katharina prefers to feel the blood on her hands. She curls her fingers harshly, and Hannah hisses in a way that sets off alarm bells in Katharina’s head. She curses her seemingly innate knack for violence.
“Sorry.” Katharina strokes the dimples of Hannah’s spine, moving more gently inside of her.
“Another. Just move slow.”
Katharina slips another finger inside of Hannah and doesn’t even have the chance to move before she’s coming, digging her nails into Katharina’s back.
“That’s it.” Katharina mumbles, feeling suddenly very silly. She sounds like a cheesy actor from a bad movie, every man she ever heard girls complaining about in high school. The moment is all at once very real. What they’re doing, where they’re doing it. She’s known Hannah her entire life. It’s almost too much to bear. She moves her head down to lick at the length of Hannah to avoid any further embarrassment.
Hannah’s hips buck and require both of Katharina’s hands pinning them down before Katharina can set a steady rhythm against her. Wetness smears against her pelvis from Katharina’s slick fingers. She’s never done this, but she can remember guiding Ulrich through it the first few times and tries her best the make up the rest. If Hannah ends up hating it Katharina’s sure she’ll let her know now and for the rest of time. She’s never been one to relinquish the chance to tear into someone.
But Hannah seems to be enjoying herself just fine, a hand thrown over her eyes and another fisting the bedsheets. Katharina likes looking at her like this, completely undone. Here Katharina has all of the power that Hannah has always had the knack for reminding her she lacks. It’s gratifying, seeing the person who is capable of injuring you like nobody else on their back. It doesn’t take Hannah long to finish once again, tumbling over the edge with a cry. Katharina memorizes the image.
Katharina shoves a hand down the bed in between her own thighs. Ideally she’ll finish before Hannah has the wherewithal to notice anything. She can’t let Hannah touch her—that’s a step too far. Once Hannah gets inside of her she’ll never leave. It won’t take much anyway, with how worked up Katharina is. It’s a miracle she hasn’t ruined the comforter she’s sprawled on top of.
“Katharina.”
Hearing her name has her eyes shooting open. It’s Hannah, staring dead at her. Katharina comes. The smiles that spread across her faces promise destruction for the both of them. Whatever is to come.