Out of the Dark, Chapter Thirteen, Part One (or Chapter Seven on AO3)
I couldn't wait I had finished the chapter for posting a new part of this endless story, because it's encouraging and motivating to me though probably not so interesting for the readers (if there are still some!). Since the end of the last chapter I entered the slash zone right ahead, which feels a little awkward for me to write (though the worse is still to come). So, I'd really like to know if I've reached my aim (that is painting a very embarrassed Cowley).
Out of the Dark
Chapter Thirteen, Part One
«Try me,» he'd said.
No doubt, the man could deliver. In a swift move Cowley was hauled up by strong arms over broad shoulders. Suddenly he was taken back to another place, another time, when another man, as bold and brash as this one, and bigger, had risked everything and his life to get him free and safe from harm, a man who now was buried in his own skin, having lost everything but his life. He wondered what it was that was rooted so deep in some men's hearts to grow such loyalty; and whatever it was, if this was in Bodie's too.
He came back to the present. Bodie was progressing cautiously but steadily. There was a safer path along the river's bank, free from branches and roots, if not from rocks and stones. The slope was steep though, and again Cowley marveled at the uncommon strength of body and will the young man had in him. Feeling so powerless under another man's total control was at the same time frightening and exhilarating. He didn't know whether he should fight it or enjoy it. To his utmost humiliation he was obliged to admit that his treacherous senses, at odds with the sounder part of his mind, were only craving for more bodily contact, more physical intimacy. The nervous tension was almost painful, overwhelming any other sensation from his bruised limbs.
«Need a break, don't you?» He was gently laid down on the ground, on a grassy spot, his back resting against a rock. He breathed deeply and looked up. Bodie had removed his own jacket and rolled up the felt-lined leather garment into a thick padding, to provide him a convenient cushion. «Whoof! It's hot.» Bodie was really sweating now, his brow shining with droplets of perspiration which ran freely, like unnoticed tears, over his grinning face. Yet, he wasn't out of breath, he didn't even look tired, just a little stiff. He sat close by and stretched himself to the brink, voluptuously, like a big domestic cat playfully responding to his master's caresses. Cowley turned his gaze away and swallowed, mouth dry. Weird how far an imagination let loose can drive a complacent mind to wander into the realm of fantasy. Sick, he thought, that's sick.
Bodie considered him attentively. «Are you okay?»
«Yes.» Cowley snapped.
«You don't look it.»
«What d'you think? That the best I can wish for is to be roughly manhandled by a muscular lout?”
«You don't even think what you say,» was the dignified reply of a serene Bodie.
«You read minds now?»
«That's a survival skill.»
«What?» Cowley almost jumped, forgetting his disabilities, and choked. «What did you just say?»
Bodie frowned, looking perplexed. «OK, ok; I don't know where that came from, really. Whatever, it's not hard to guess what's in your mind now; all this stuff about my past, mercenary life and arms running... but see, you've to admit all my information comes from you.»
«I admit nothing of the sort,» grumbled Cowley, «I only grant you the benefit of the doubt.»
«Thank you so much. Couldn't be more gracious; I wonder why I don't actually manhandle you a little roughly.»
«Because you know where your true interests lie.»
The way back to the lodge was more of the same, except that Cowley managed to get a better hold on his gusts of unrequited lust. They still had to stop a few times and Bodie made a show of displaying the most exquisite gentleness and solicitude in his new role of caregiver.
He carefully laid down his live burden on the bunk and spread a plaid over him before setting about rekindling the fire in the hearth.
“It's hard and it's damp,” grumbled Cowley.
“So I told you, didn't I?”
“Well, you were right.”
“Glad to hear you say it for once.” Bodie's voice was devoid of grudge. “You're wet and you're stiff; what you need first is a nice hot bath.”
“In case you hadn't noticed, we're not in a 5-star hotel.”
“I saw an old tub in the shed. It's rusted but, hopefully, not to the point of leaking.”
“Don't bother; all I need is to call Angus.”
“Is he a medic? He didn't say.”
“No, just a living medical library, but he's perfectly able to perform first aid.”
“So am I.”
“If you don't mind, I'll rather rely on my cousin's skills and experience, which I've good reason to trust.”
“As you please. But do you really want to subject yourself to your cousin's scrutiny in that pitiful state? You'll freak him out.”
Cowley gulped at the sheer audacity of the words. However they gave him matter for reflection. He could easily figure how he’d look in another man's eyes: bruised, battered, rumpled, covered with mud, face and hands scratched from their harsh encounter with thorns and stones; the last thing he wished was to appear that defeated in front of Angus. No way though he was going to concede as much to the young rascal.
“Stop the insolence and get me the RT.”
“I do, I do, Mister Bwana.”
Cowley's glare would have frozen embers.
Talking with Angus a few minutes later, he briefly explained the situation, as reassuringly as he could (he didn't want to have Angus and Bart rushing down the steep forest path, at risk of breaking their old necks: one casualty a day was quite enough). With some extra information from Bodie, Angus agreed it was not a case of emergency and they would come after dinner, with a fresh batch of pastry from Martha and the first aid kit.
“There's one in the medicine cabinet.”
“Too old; haven't replaced it in ages. I'll bring a new herb balm of my invention.” “Would've been surprised if you hadn’t,” mumbled Cowley, off the mike. “In the meantime,” Angus sounded more avuncular than ever, “have a rest, take a generous dose of my potion and...” he paused, “I remember there's this old tub in the tool shed, if it's not falling to pieces, I'd recommend you a long hot bath to relax your strained muscles.”
Bodie sniggered impudently. Cowley suddenly felt too exhausted to fight back. In his current condition, the prospect of a hot bath was too appealing to be denied only for reasons of impropriety. He had suffered worse in his war time; besides, he and Bodie belonged to completely separate universes; it was not as if he would risk meeting the boy later in the circles he used to move in: at his club or on the golf links, among his old friends or colleagues.
“Happy to be right again? I just wanted to spare you the chore, but if you're so eager to serve, I won't discourage your budding vocation; I have to warn you my income doesn't allow me to employ a full-time butler.”
Out of the Dark
Chapter Thirteen, Part One
«Try me,» he'd said.
No doubt, the man could deliver. In a swift move Cowley was hauled up by strong arms over broad shoulders. Suddenly he was taken back to another place, another time, when another man, as bold and brash as this one, and bigger, had risked everything and his life to get him free and safe from harm, a man who now was buried in his own skin, having lost everything but his life. He wondered what it was that was rooted so deep in some men's hearts to grow such loyalty; and whatever it was, if this was in Bodie's too.
He came back to the present. Bodie was progressing cautiously but steadily. There was a safer path along the river's bank, free from branches and roots, if not from rocks and stones. The slope was steep though, and again Cowley marveled at the uncommon strength of body and will the young man had in him. Feeling so powerless under another man's total control was at the same time frightening and exhilarating. He didn't know whether he should fight it or enjoy it. To his utmost humiliation he was obliged to admit that his treacherous senses, at odds with the sounder part of his mind, were only craving for more bodily contact, more physical intimacy. The nervous tension was almost painful, overwhelming any other sensation from his bruised limbs.
«Need a break, don't you?» He was gently laid down on the ground, on a grassy spot, his back resting against a rock. He breathed deeply and looked up. Bodie had removed his own jacket and rolled up the felt-lined leather garment into a thick padding, to provide him a convenient cushion. «Whoof! It's hot.» Bodie was really sweating now, his brow shining with droplets of perspiration which ran freely, like unnoticed tears, over his grinning face. Yet, he wasn't out of breath, he didn't even look tired, just a little stiff. He sat close by and stretched himself to the brink, voluptuously, like a big domestic cat playfully responding to his master's caresses. Cowley turned his gaze away and swallowed, mouth dry. Weird how far an imagination let loose can drive a complacent mind to wander into the realm of fantasy. Sick, he thought, that's sick.
Bodie considered him attentively. «Are you okay?»
«Yes.» Cowley snapped.
«You don't look it.»
«What d'you think? That the best I can wish for is to be roughly manhandled by a muscular lout?”
«You don't even think what you say,» was the dignified reply of a serene Bodie.
«You read minds now?»
«That's a survival skill.»
«What?» Cowley almost jumped, forgetting his disabilities, and choked. «What did you just say?»
Bodie frowned, looking perplexed. «OK, ok; I don't know where that came from, really. Whatever, it's not hard to guess what's in your mind now; all this stuff about my past, mercenary life and arms running... but see, you've to admit all my information comes from you.»
«I admit nothing of the sort,» grumbled Cowley, «I only grant you the benefit of the doubt.»
«Thank you so much. Couldn't be more gracious; I wonder why I don't actually manhandle you a little roughly.»
«Because you know where your true interests lie.»
The way back to the lodge was more of the same, except that Cowley managed to get a better hold on his gusts of unrequited lust. They still had to stop a few times and Bodie made a show of displaying the most exquisite gentleness and solicitude in his new role of caregiver.
He carefully laid down his live burden on the bunk and spread a plaid over him before setting about rekindling the fire in the hearth.
“It's hard and it's damp,” grumbled Cowley.
“So I told you, didn't I?”
“Well, you were right.”
“Glad to hear you say it for once.” Bodie's voice was devoid of grudge. “You're wet and you're stiff; what you need first is a nice hot bath.”
“In case you hadn't noticed, we're not in a 5-star hotel.”
“I saw an old tub in the shed. It's rusted but, hopefully, not to the point of leaking.”
“Don't bother; all I need is to call Angus.”
“Is he a medic? He didn't say.”
“No, just a living medical library, but he's perfectly able to perform first aid.”
“So am I.”
“If you don't mind, I'll rather rely on my cousin's skills and experience, which I've good reason to trust.”
“As you please. But do you really want to subject yourself to your cousin's scrutiny in that pitiful state? You'll freak him out.”
Cowley gulped at the sheer audacity of the words. However they gave him matter for reflection. He could easily figure how he’d look in another man's eyes: bruised, battered, rumpled, covered with mud, face and hands scratched from their harsh encounter with thorns and stones; the last thing he wished was to appear that defeated in front of Angus. No way though he was going to concede as much to the young rascal.
“Stop the insolence and get me the RT.”
“I do, I do, Mister Bwana.”
Cowley's glare would have frozen embers.
Talking with Angus a few minutes later, he briefly explained the situation, as reassuringly as he could (he didn't want to have Angus and Bart rushing down the steep forest path, at risk of breaking their old necks: one casualty a day was quite enough). With some extra information from Bodie, Angus agreed it was not a case of emergency and they would come after dinner, with a fresh batch of pastry from Martha and the first aid kit.
“There's one in the medicine cabinet.”
“Too old; haven't replaced it in ages. I'll bring a new herb balm of my invention.” “Would've been surprised if you hadn’t,” mumbled Cowley, off the mike. “In the meantime,” Angus sounded more avuncular than ever, “have a rest, take a generous dose of my potion and...” he paused, “I remember there's this old tub in the tool shed, if it's not falling to pieces, I'd recommend you a long hot bath to relax your strained muscles.”
Bodie sniggered impudently. Cowley suddenly felt too exhausted to fight back. In his current condition, the prospect of a hot bath was too appealing to be denied only for reasons of impropriety. He had suffered worse in his war time; besides, he and Bodie belonged to completely separate universes; it was not as if he would risk meeting the boy later in the circles he used to move in: at his club or on the golf links, among his old friends or colleagues.
“Happy to be right again? I just wanted to spare you the chore, but if you're so eager to serve, I won't discourage your budding vocation; I have to warn you my income doesn't allow me to employ a full-time butler.”