Discovered in Temptation
Feb. 27th, 2007 11:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
asymphototropic.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
discoveredinaljJudging by my little black ledger, this part includes in order, lust, gluttony, sloth, and wrath. They would creep into the tale, despite my best efforts to concentrate. Hubris still to come, I promise. Oh yes, and there's just a smidgeon- hint of naked writHing, which arrived totally unbidden, of its own accord.
Contrary Virtue
Part Two.
His Colonel was invited to dine with their General. To add face to the lesser man's importance, Bodie was to serve as batman for his officer at table, strictly unofficially, of course.
Bodie was willing to go along with the servant charade. The position was good, since, unbeknownst to anyone, Bodie's secret orders were to get as close to the General as quickly as possible, and then to stick there with all his might.
Judging from the General's lubricious stare, Bodie was welcome to approach quite a bit nearer than he intended. "Not on your life, sir," he covertly reflected with a shudder, eyeing the gristly, hairy fellow with distaste. "In the event I were to opt for buggery in the bush, it'd be with someone much younger and tastier than you."
Before his imagination could stray to specific anatomic details of delight, however, he nailed his attention back onto the dinner table.
It was a lavish spread. The generalissimo apparently hadn't heard that the war torn countryside all around them was plunging into a terrible famine. Either that, or he didn't care. Bodie decided it was the latter case.
The elegantly hand scripted menus placed at each setting on the white linen tablecloth described several courses. For hors d'oeuvres, there were olives wrapped in thin strips of biltong, and smoked poisson capitain spread thinly upon injera, rolled and sliced into pretty coils. This was to be followed by corn soup, fresh lobster, melon sorbet, lamb chops with sauteed yam and plantain slices, raisin tarts settled in sour cream sauce, crisp bondue and tomato salad, newly pressed white cheese with digestive biscuits, coffee, and honey wine.
Bodie was amused to notice a mahogany box filled with Cuban cigars arrayed next to the coffee carafe. Considering that the mercenary military force here assembled was specifically aligned against invaders which included soviet-backed commandos of that island nation, it seemed a political faux pas to showcase their fancy export at a dinner party.
He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe the smokes had been pillaged from the enemy? Then again, maybe their chief commander was playing both ends against the middle. Bodie filed the idea for further consideration.
The General started his guests off with glasses of half-sweet Madeira. And utterly unconcerned with the insult to the Colonel, he kept pouring another glass for Bodie. So that the absurd scene consisted of Bodie serving the Colonel, followed by the General serving Bodie.
What with the blustery Colonel having his feathers ruffled, the General licking his lips at Bodie while trying to get the stunning young man sloshed, and the other guests grinning and nudging each other, Bodie found himself having an hellaciously hard time not to snicker audibly.
The guests were all standing around, munching appetizers and swapping old campaigner lies of outrageous magnitude, when the General slipped quietly into an anteroom.
Bodie, of course, surreptitiously edged his way over to eavesdrop on the muttering within the small office.
It wasn't what he'd thought. Not at all.
Inside were two massive bodyguards. Restrained between them was RD. The General unlocked a portable camp desk and withdrew from it a vial, a tourniquet, and a glass syringe with a reusable needle.
Bodie clenched his jaws tightly as he watched the General inject a clear fluid into the soldier's antecubital vein.
The General instructed the guards. "Give him ten minutes for the fix to take. Then go have him wash, thoroughly. I'll be in later, after my guests leave."
Hastily, Bodie stepped away from the curtained door.
The feast was a rollicking success. After stuffing themselves on the food and drink, several of the men helped themselves unabashedly to the cigars. When they raised their glasses for the traditional "loyal toast", the generalissimo proposed loudly, "Here's to victory, may it always be mine."
None of the guests choked as they swallowed the wine. If there were dissenters present, they were undemonstrative in their antagonism.
With only one successful grope to his buttocks over the entire dinner period, Bodie heaved a relieved sigh and escaped to his tent. He hoped in the General's case, it was "out of sight, out of mind."
But where did that leave RD?
Bodie hunched his shoulders into the comfort of his bedroll. He tried to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he was presented with an image of the slender soldier, drooping between the two brutish guards, at the untender mercy of the General.
Bodie groaned. His assignment here was on behalf of Queen and Country. It did not, by any means or manner, involve the mysterious captive. He enforced upon himself a term of rest, while he tracked the moon's progress across the clear dark sky, by its mercurial light upon the canvas of his tent.
When the night descended into its stillest shadow, he rose.
He had cased the command building over several days, and knew exactly which room he wanted, where the documents he would need to see were stored. Silently he slunk across the compound, slipped unobserved into the building, past the dozing guards. He picked the lock on the box of interest, then sorted calmly through the documents, committing various lines, phrases, maps and images to memory.
He had been at it, undisturbed, for over an hour, when suddenly there came the sound of breaking glass. A thump and an angry curse were followed by silence.
Hastily, Bodie tidied the lock box, fastened it, then sneaked out. He hesitated to exit the way he'd come. Surely the snoring guards would have awakened at the noise, brief though it had been. He retreated toward the back of the building, intending to climb out a sheltered window there.
He stopped before a barred storeroom. But when he went to pick the latch, it gave way in his hand. The jaundiced light of the hall settled upon the scene within.
Bodie faced a demonic visage of utmost wrathful vengeance. Poisonous green eyes glittered with hatred. Hands clenched with manic strength a leather belt cinched to a garrotte circle of death.
Bodie settled the door closed behind him. He crept gingerly forward, one hand outstretched in a placatory gesture, the other fingering the pommel of his blade, loose in its sheath at his back.
"Here now, he's dead already, mate. You can stand down. Crushed trachea and cervical dislocation, both by the look of him."
Bodie reached past the strangled body to gently touch the live one. It was a mistake.
Instantly they were locked in combat. Hands were at his throat, nails clawing at his eyes, teeth at his jugular, knees pounding his groin.
He curled and went limp, willing the crazed creature upon him to sense the surrender. It took a full minute before he felt the muscular tension overlying him begin to ease.
Instantly in a reflex arc he flipped his assailant, pinning him down face first, his thighs straddling the writhing lower limbs, torso pressed against the bony back, the subdued man's right arm twisted toward the scapulares until the ligaments crackled, slender throat in a desperate choke hold, head pounded repeatedly against the flimsy flooring.
Bodie leaped back, not trusting the still figure to be truly unconscious. He nudged the head with his boot, only just realizing then that the body spread out before him was utterly nude.
"It occurs to me why the guards aren't rushing back here to check on us. Likely they're expecting the sounds of an ongoing tussle from you two." He chuckled, then swiped ruefully at a trickle of blood dribbling down his cheek. He glanced around until he discovered a mound of grimy clothing discarded in a corner, and fetched it.
"Here now," he clutched the curls, cuffed the other's face a couple of easy blows. "Wake up. Time to scarper. Get dressed, hurry up. Look at me. Look at me! That's right. It's me, pretty Bodie, lovely Bodie, your bestest ever chum. You remember me, don't you? That's it. Jump into your togs, there's a sweet lad. We'll slink off, laughing at them, wont we?"
To his astonishment, RD complied, quickly and silently dressing.
It was a matter of mere moments to open the narrow window, slip through it, and disappear into the bleak pre dawn gloom.
Title: Contrary Virtue
Author: asymphototropic [attracted toward the light but never quite arrives]
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, the author does not own "The Professionals"
Contrary Virtue
Part Two.
His Colonel was invited to dine with their General. To add face to the lesser man's importance, Bodie was to serve as batman for his officer at table, strictly unofficially, of course.
Bodie was willing to go along with the servant charade. The position was good, since, unbeknownst to anyone, Bodie's secret orders were to get as close to the General as quickly as possible, and then to stick there with all his might.
Judging from the General's lubricious stare, Bodie was welcome to approach quite a bit nearer than he intended. "Not on your life, sir," he covertly reflected with a shudder, eyeing the gristly, hairy fellow with distaste. "In the event I were to opt for buggery in the bush, it'd be with someone much younger and tastier than you."
Before his imagination could stray to specific anatomic details of delight, however, he nailed his attention back onto the dinner table.
It was a lavish spread. The generalissimo apparently hadn't heard that the war torn countryside all around them was plunging into a terrible famine. Either that, or he didn't care. Bodie decided it was the latter case.
The elegantly hand scripted menus placed at each setting on the white linen tablecloth described several courses. For hors d'oeuvres, there were olives wrapped in thin strips of biltong, and smoked poisson capitain spread thinly upon injera, rolled and sliced into pretty coils. This was to be followed by corn soup, fresh lobster, melon sorbet, lamb chops with sauteed yam and plantain slices, raisin tarts settled in sour cream sauce, crisp bondue and tomato salad, newly pressed white cheese with digestive biscuits, coffee, and honey wine.
Bodie was amused to notice a mahogany box filled with Cuban cigars arrayed next to the coffee carafe. Considering that the mercenary military force here assembled was specifically aligned against invaders which included soviet-backed commandos of that island nation, it seemed a political faux pas to showcase their fancy export at a dinner party.
He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe the smokes had been pillaged from the enemy? Then again, maybe their chief commander was playing both ends against the middle. Bodie filed the idea for further consideration.
The General started his guests off with glasses of half-sweet Madeira. And utterly unconcerned with the insult to the Colonel, he kept pouring another glass for Bodie. So that the absurd scene consisted of Bodie serving the Colonel, followed by the General serving Bodie.
What with the blustery Colonel having his feathers ruffled, the General licking his lips at Bodie while trying to get the stunning young man sloshed, and the other guests grinning and nudging each other, Bodie found himself having an hellaciously hard time not to snicker audibly.
The guests were all standing around, munching appetizers and swapping old campaigner lies of outrageous magnitude, when the General slipped quietly into an anteroom.
Bodie, of course, surreptitiously edged his way over to eavesdrop on the muttering within the small office.
It wasn't what he'd thought. Not at all.
Inside were two massive bodyguards. Restrained between them was RD. The General unlocked a portable camp desk and withdrew from it a vial, a tourniquet, and a glass syringe with a reusable needle.
Bodie clenched his jaws tightly as he watched the General inject a clear fluid into the soldier's antecubital vein.
The General instructed the guards. "Give him ten minutes for the fix to take. Then go have him wash, thoroughly. I'll be in later, after my guests leave."
Hastily, Bodie stepped away from the curtained door.
The feast was a rollicking success. After stuffing themselves on the food and drink, several of the men helped themselves unabashedly to the cigars. When they raised their glasses for the traditional "loyal toast", the generalissimo proposed loudly, "Here's to victory, may it always be mine."
None of the guests choked as they swallowed the wine. If there were dissenters present, they were undemonstrative in their antagonism.
With only one successful grope to his buttocks over the entire dinner period, Bodie heaved a relieved sigh and escaped to his tent. He hoped in the General's case, it was "out of sight, out of mind."
But where did that leave RD?
Bodie hunched his shoulders into the comfort of his bedroll. He tried to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he was presented with an image of the slender soldier, drooping between the two brutish guards, at the untender mercy of the General.
Bodie groaned. His assignment here was on behalf of Queen and Country. It did not, by any means or manner, involve the mysterious captive. He enforced upon himself a term of rest, while he tracked the moon's progress across the clear dark sky, by its mercurial light upon the canvas of his tent.
When the night descended into its stillest shadow, he rose.
He had cased the command building over several days, and knew exactly which room he wanted, where the documents he would need to see were stored. Silently he slunk across the compound, slipped unobserved into the building, past the dozing guards. He picked the lock on the box of interest, then sorted calmly through the documents, committing various lines, phrases, maps and images to memory.
He had been at it, undisturbed, for over an hour, when suddenly there came the sound of breaking glass. A thump and an angry curse were followed by silence.
Hastily, Bodie tidied the lock box, fastened it, then sneaked out. He hesitated to exit the way he'd come. Surely the snoring guards would have awakened at the noise, brief though it had been. He retreated toward the back of the building, intending to climb out a sheltered window there.
He stopped before a barred storeroom. But when he went to pick the latch, it gave way in his hand. The jaundiced light of the hall settled upon the scene within.
Bodie faced a demonic visage of utmost wrathful vengeance. Poisonous green eyes glittered with hatred. Hands clenched with manic strength a leather belt cinched to a garrotte circle of death.
Bodie settled the door closed behind him. He crept gingerly forward, one hand outstretched in a placatory gesture, the other fingering the pommel of his blade, loose in its sheath at his back.
"Here now, he's dead already, mate. You can stand down. Crushed trachea and cervical dislocation, both by the look of him."
Bodie reached past the strangled body to gently touch the live one. It was a mistake.
Instantly they were locked in combat. Hands were at his throat, nails clawing at his eyes, teeth at his jugular, knees pounding his groin.
He curled and went limp, willing the crazed creature upon him to sense the surrender. It took a full minute before he felt the muscular tension overlying him begin to ease.
Instantly in a reflex arc he flipped his assailant, pinning him down face first, his thighs straddling the writhing lower limbs, torso pressed against the bony back, the subdued man's right arm twisted toward the scapulares until the ligaments crackled, slender throat in a desperate choke hold, head pounded repeatedly against the flimsy flooring.
Bodie leaped back, not trusting the still figure to be truly unconscious. He nudged the head with his boot, only just realizing then that the body spread out before him was utterly nude.
"It occurs to me why the guards aren't rushing back here to check on us. Likely they're expecting the sounds of an ongoing tussle from you two." He chuckled, then swiped ruefully at a trickle of blood dribbling down his cheek. He glanced around until he discovered a mound of grimy clothing discarded in a corner, and fetched it.
"Here now," he clutched the curls, cuffed the other's face a couple of easy blows. "Wake up. Time to scarper. Get dressed, hurry up. Look at me. Look at me! That's right. It's me, pretty Bodie, lovely Bodie, your bestest ever chum. You remember me, don't you? That's it. Jump into your togs, there's a sweet lad. We'll slink off, laughing at them, wont we?"
To his astonishment, RD complied, quickly and silently dressing.
It was a matter of mere moments to open the narrow window, slip through it, and disappear into the bleak pre dawn gloom.
Title: Contrary Virtue
Author: asymphototropic [attracted toward the light but never quite arrives]
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, the author does not own "The Professionals"
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:05 pm (UTC)Darn it!
So... Bodie's doing the undercover spy thing. And RD's being abused, but not necessarily needing rescuing, all things considered. And the two of them are on the run together... Eee!
And that was terribly mean of you to tell us there was going to be naked writing and then have it all completely unerotic. But I love it! My favorite bit? "It's me, pretty Bodie, lovely Bodie, your bestest ever chum. You remember me, don't you?" And evidently RD does. Heh.
I'm going to have a very hard time waiting for tomorrow's installment.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:07 pm (UTC)It's not Freudian. At all.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 07:49 pm (UTC)It'd be so cool, like "My LJ nick is _____ and I'm a naked writer" and we'd all go "We love you, ____" :)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 08:45 pm (UTC)Basically I'm never alone. Ever!
But except for that little practical glitch, naked writing actually sounds kinda fun. ;-) Maybe when I'm an old lady and everyone except the husband has moved out I'll do it.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:11 am (UTC)And a lil naked writHing is better than none at all, surely. I mean, you can imagine that scene, lovely Bodie and altogether Doyle and the floor and all, right?
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:32 am (UTC)I like this image even better than the one of Doyle in his faded fatigues and hat in the jungle. :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:20 pm (UTC)"the subdued man's right arm twisted toward the scapulares until the ligaments crackled"
owee, I just like those words scapulares, ligaments, crackled -- how weird am I? *g*
enjoyed the menu too. Pass the yams, what! And more, more!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:17 am (UTC)Body parts and food too. Yessss. [I make a terrific yam pie. Here, have a slice.]
no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 07:45 pm (UTC)Isn't it more like half-naked writhing? I mean, RD maybe naked but Bodie is (hopefully) dressed.... Wouldn't it be funny though, him going on a reconnaissance mission in the nude... :)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 04:14 pm (UTC)Fave description was the meal - Babette's Feast or what? Sumptuous. Just sumptuous.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 04:59 pm (UTC)Ah yes, the foodage. Yum. So nice there are no calories in virtual meals, we can eat to heart's content and still stay fit and trim.
Okay, while we're gathered, we can now do our virtual fitness routine whilst seated at our PCs. And one and two and lift and stretch.
Virtual sweat. Nothing like it.
I'm quite looking forward to your sin, as well as everyone else's. But must scramble now to script part four. Sheesh, no rest for the wicked.