The Professionals Anonymous Pornfest
Way, way back last year we ran an Anonymous Pornfest for Life on Mars over at fiandyfic. It was great fun, generated a shedload of fic and encouraged at least two new writers (that I know of) to start posting their own fic at the lifein1973 comm
( Read more... )
Don Vasco and Billy Bodie paused at ground level, peering below into the dim depths.
Down in the cellar, Doyle had returned the Irish stallion to its stall. He gave its gorgeous coat a cursory wipe-down with a rag, watered the beast, and offered it what hay and grain was available. Reasoning that the horse had earned the right to dine in peace, Ray turned next to his own cleanliness, for he was nearly as mud begrimed as his steed.
His rapid ablutions were quite a matter of survival. In this wintry setting, and possessing only meagre garments, Doyle had to hurry or succumb to exposure.
Still gasping with exhaustion from his exertions in the race, he knelt before a clean trough, dragging off his battered buff jerkin and threatening the security of its few remaining buttons in his haste. Splashing the clean water over his head and torso, he moaned aloud at the icy burning sensation.
Utterly drenched, Ray stood, water sluicing down his slim limbs to trickle and pool upon the floor around his supple deerskin brogues. His fair skin glistened with the stray wandering fragments of sunset light, which sneaked in through the building's crevices to caress him.
He was possessed of no shirt, it having been stolen many months prior. Therefore, when he untied his points to remove his sopping doublet of faded murrey wool, he stood forth nude to the waist, with ragged breeches barely clinging to his lean haunches.
Doyle's pitiful groans pierced Bodie's kindly tender heart, and the young soldier found himself suddenly, thoroughly smitten with the stable lad.
Oblivious to any company, Ray flung a harsh saddle-blanket across his shoulders, using it simultaneously as garment and towel to his riotous amber curls.
Overwhelmed by lustful longing, Bodie quite forgot Don Vasco's presence.
Reply
"Curry the horse, you lazy worthless brat!" Fareira screeched in Spanish.
Doyle leaped in startlement, peering up at the watchers, but answering nought.
Bodie shrugged apologetically down to him, as Don Vasco railed equally at them both.
Now, had Fareira simply said in Spanish, "The boy must clean the horse," Bodie would have understood and explained to Doyle. Their captor's orders would have been duly followed, since both youths were long-accustomed to obedient servitude.
But instead, Don Vasco switched from speaking Spanish to German. His reason was that Bodie, having fought in the army ranks of the Swedish, might better understand German, a similar language.
This logic failed abysmally. The imperfect German, expressed in a thick Spanish accent, sounded so bizarre that poor Bodie couldn't even decide which language it might be, much less the meaning of the words.
Don Vasco concluded a horrendous long harangue with the phrase, "Er spricht nur Irischen; sprichst du mit ihm in seiner Sprache."
Bodie's ears pricked up at the word "Irischen," and he nodded eagerly. "Si, si. Jawohl, sicherlich, inmediatamente, mi patrón." And without further ado, he descended to Doyle's side.
A little bashful, Bodie softly greeted the stable lad in Irish, "Cad é mar a tá tú?"
Smiling a welcome, Doyle replied that he was well, "Tá mé go maith."
After this, the two lads spoke to each other only in their native tongue, delighting in the ease and privacy of a conversation nobody else could share.
"Yon was a fine race you ran," Bodie declared.
"Ah, did you bet on me then?" Doyle grinned in proud pleasure.
"That did I, and won too, for me faith! Truly, twas a glorious run to behold."
"Aye was it fine, but only just a bit chilly, though."
"More than a bit, I ween. You do seem in a fair way to freezing fast, my dear."
"I could do with a bit of warming, yeah," Doyle agreed with a mischievous twinkle in his emerald eye.
Perceiving he'd now completely lost both lads' attention, Don Vasco squawked his instructions, to proceed at once with the horse currying. "Sagst du ihm in seiner Sprache, 'Benutzen Sie die kleine braune Bürste'!" [Tell him in his own tongue, to use the small brown brush.]
Astonished, Bodie spun to confront Fareira. "Ich sollte die kleine braune Brüste?" he asked in great wonder. [I should use the small brown breasts?]
"Nein, nein. No te. Sie müssen ihre Zunge," Fareira corrected emphatically. [No, no. Not you. You must use your tongue.]
Bodie's blue eyes got very wide at this, and his mouth dropped open slightly. His voice squeaked a bit, as he strove to clarify his instructions. "Ich möchte meine Zunge über die kleine braune Brüste?" [I should use my tongue on the small brown breasts?]
Thoroughly enraged at the delay, Don Vasco Fareira thundered ominously, ""Gehorchet mir auf einmal!" [Obey me at once.]
Reply
Bodie failed to notice this, so intent was he on the groom's lean chest. Powerful pectorals rested there, overlain with sweet ivory flesh. From behind the shadow of the rough blanket peeked two breasts. The nipples thereof were indeed both small and brown, a lovely tawny shade, dewy and perked with the chill, thoroughly delectable.
With a trembling hand, Bodie reached forth, running his finger tip delicately over one nub.
Doyle's eyes rolled back in his head, and he stared heavenward, panting in ecstasy.
Though Don Vasco Fareira shrieked his protest at the proceedings, it may be well imagined that this constituted mere background noise for the lads.
Recalling the minutiae of his instructions, Bodie lowered his mouth to lick a nipple luxuriously.
"Mayhap," Doyle gasped, then moaned, "there exists, perhaps, a minor misapprehension?"
"Very likely," Bodie amiably agreed, working his tongue wetly over the next nipple, and then returning to the first, lest it become lonely.
Ray ran his fingers through Bodie's silky dark hair. "Methinks," said he, "that the difference between 'Bürste', meaning 'brush', and 'Brüste', signifying 'breasts', is rather slight."
"Tis confusing, isn't it?" Bodie took the opportunity to shift his attention up, and one hand simultaneously down. Brushing aside some satin curls, he nibbled at a delicious earlobe. Then in a surprise ambush, he palmed Ray's cock under the threadbare cover of his breeches and firmly rubbed it in a lingering caress.
Thoroughly distracted, Doyle ceased talking momentarily.
Bodie insinuated his tongue into Doyle's ear, then withdrawing all a slither, whispered, "Here now, what's this then? I was told you only spoke Irish."
"True enough," Ray nuzzled Bodie's powerful neck, delighting in his companion's rich aroma. He murmured against the sensitive skin there, "Whereas I may speak only in the one tongue, I might maybe listen in a dozen others."
"Ha! Tis clever, that, and keeps your enemies off guard." Bodie voiced his approval, at the same time commencing rhythmic strokes of his comrade's cock. He went slowly at first, then faster and rougher, until he heard Doyle's hearty shout and felt his lusty climax.
Reply
Bodie clasped Doyle in his arms and molded the body all along his own powerfully straining form. When Ray's appreciative hands caressed him, Billy was quite overwhelmed. For the first time in his rough young life, a secure feeling of belonging to someone, first and foremost, captured him utterly.
Bodie used his entire body to stroke against his comrade, alternately soft and harsh, as if by insinuation or demand he might climb right inside this safe harbour of his heart and soul. Riding the bold rider, he ascended to a height of unsurpassed pleasure. The whole world might war, but here in his friend's embrace was perfect peace.
"Oh, aye, that's it," Doyle urged him, and taking Bodie's straining cock in his calloused hand, made him come in the greatest abundance of grand completion. "Tis good, aye, tis all fine and right," Ray told him, kissing him on his sweet tasting mouth.
They held each other then awhile, and knew not whether the rest of the universe was perchance destroyed, or somehow continued to muddle through on its cruel and foolish way.
As for Don Vasco, he had long since stopped his irate exclamation. This was natural enough, considering that his vociferations so far had been ineffectual. He ultimately shifted from complaint, to silence, to intent contemplation of the lads' performance.
In explanation of his behaviour it should be considered, that a gentleman possessed of wealthy tastes but empty pocketbook, encamped on the wreck of a battlefield in winter, had scant opportunity for lovemaking.
In fact, Don Vasco hadn't gotten laid for months.
As a consequence, he found the passionate view of Bodie and Doyle fascinating, and pruriently devoured every instant of the play.
It was cataclysmic, when Don Vasco's sudden shrill cry of abject fear broke the silence.
Surprised, Bodie and Doyle glanced upward, but caught not a glimpse of Fareira, as he fled in stark terror.
"Ahem," said Cardinal Richelieu, standing on high, outlined by a stormy dark heavenly vault. As he stared downward at the lads, he appeared an avenging archangel of the apocalypse. Taken in that setting, his polite cough into an embroidered linen handkerchief seemed somewhat incongruous.
If ever there was a time in life for abasement, it seemed to Bodie that this definitely was the moment. He dropped to his knees, dragging Doyle with him. "Your Eminence," he intoned in humblest tones.
Reply
Despite a strong inclination to accept the proffered opportunity to place blame upon his enemy, Bodie looked boldly upward and shook his head. "Nay, your Eminence, not so. It was but an error in communication, a problem of mistranslation that caused the mischief, that's all."
In fact Richelieu knew this to be true, since he had espied the tableau from beginning to end. Fascinated with Bodie's perversely honest utterance, the Cardinal raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And do you, bold sir, much enjoy the study of foreign tongues?"
"I do, tis interesting," Bodie nodded. "Although I have a preference for the native, domestic tongue, when it's available," he confessed, blushing at the innuendo in spite of himself.
On hearing the reply, and remembering the feel of Bodie's tongue in his mouth, Doyle chuckled. This drew a hard nudge in the ribs from Bodie, after which Ray looked prayerfully, innocently down at the floor, rather than give himself away with his roguish grin.
Richelieu smiled at Bodie's handsome young countenance. "What do you suppose is the nature of bravery?"
Wondering at the sudden change of subject, not to mention the depth of his conversation with such an illustrious personage, Bodie shrugged. "Why, only just being full of courage, I suppose."
The Cardinal rolled his eyes at this. "Very well, and what do you suppose is the nature of courage?"
Bodie pondered that a moment, his head cocked to one side in thought. He didn't think a reply such as, "Courage is bravery and bravery is courage," would please the Cardinal. "Perhaps, then, it is being without fear?" he hazarded.
Richelieu sighed. "Being fearless? Ah. Do you think such a state is possible?"
Bodie's nose wrinkled, as he considered how often in life he found himself quite thoroughly afraid. "Probably not," he concluded, rubbing the tip of his nose soothingly with the back of his hand.
"So then, I must repeat. What do you suppose is the nature of courage?" Richelieu demanded with a piercing look.
"What I think," Bodie glanced at Doyle for deep inspiration. "Is that it's just when you do judge it all to be horribly hopeless, but you try to go on with things anyway."
The ensuing silence was deafening.
Reply
"I came here to congratulate your comrade, there, on his win in the race," Richelieu explained.
Reminded so aptly of a major topic of his fear, Bodie felt a cold dread sinking into the pit of his stomach, as if he'd swallowed a cannon ball and it was residing in his middle anatomy. "I reckon he's very sorry."
"Oh? Does he regret winning?" Richelieu asked acridly.
"Not that, no. Only just that your horse lost because his won."
"Well then, I'm duly grateful for the sentiment."
As a statement of thanks, this didn't sound very encouraging. Bodie lapsed discretely into silence.
"In fact, it was a brilliant run, skillful, reckless, quite breathtaking to watch. I found it enthralling," Richelieu declared, gesturing grandly.
Eyes wide, Bodie nodded agreement.
Pensively, the Cardinal continued. "I came here tonight with pleasurable thoughts of rewarding your friend. As I strolled along, listening to the excitement in the camp, I had various thoughts as to what might be most appropriate for a young man such as himself, with whom I was quite pleased. Probably he would prefer golden coins. On the other hand, would such an able but youthful person prefer position, advancement of some sort? But then I arrived here, only to discover this: that he already possesses the only thing in life worth having."
Startled at the Cardinal's proclamation, Bodie looked intently at Doyle, trying to determine the nature of his comrade's unsuspected wealth.
Nearly naked, grubby, tattered, shivering, battle scarred, and bony from prolonged privation, Ray did not appear to have much in the way of valuable assets.
Baffled, Bodie shrugged at the Cardinal.
Being such a universally famous author, Richelieu may be forgiven for quoting himself. "Friendship is the medicine for all misfortunes," he stated simply.
"Yeah," Billy Bodie agreed. For a moment, the person above him, silhouetted by the cloudy dark evening sky, appeared in the guise of a wistful, lonely old man.
But then the Cardinal's eyes hardened, glittering cruelly. "I wonder, if I offered your friend a safe pass, whether he would seize the opportunity to escape, abandoning you to your fate."
"No!" Doyle cried out fervently.
Bodie groaned aloud at his friend's blunder, miserable that he was the cause of Doyle's foolish revelation. Would the Cardinal now take Ray for a spy?
Reply
Fearing they were both undone and doomed, Bodie reached over to pat Doyle's knee in a comforting gesture. Shuddering in fear and cold, they huddled together, heads abjectly bowed, awaiting a judgment to descend upon them from on high.
"Perhaps you are less worthy of reward than I had imagined. Though, ah me, surely I'm entitled to a few pretty illusions in life." The woeful, fading voice arrived with the first strike of snow, which sifted down from the heavens like an icy accusation. The storm wind muttered, then howled mournfully through the chinks of the wrecked stables. The horses stirred restlessly in their stalls. Warmth fled, disappearing like life's blessing, here briefly and then disappointingly gone.
A large snowflake drifted to settle upon Bodie's knee. Making to brush it away, he noticed two things. Richelieu had disappeared. And the large snowflake wasn't a snowflake, but rather a slip of paper, inscribed in elegant script.
Bodie read aloud. " 'I may have all knowledge and understand all secrets, but without love, I am nothing.' It is signed 'Armand-Jean du Plessis, Cardinal and Duc de Richelieu', with today's date. It also says, 'It being certainly the will of God, these two must be allowed to go free.' Bless us Doyle, it's a safe pass for the both of us!"
"What? Let me see!"
Then the two danced a merry jig around each other.
"I have some coins, gratuities from the race," Doyle said breathlessly, already anticipating their journey home.
"And I, more than I had before, from wagering well," Bodie added with a grin. "Surely with such in hand, and this pass for the sentries, we can succeed in making good our escape."
"Heavens!" Doyle exclaimed, examining the Cardinal's pass, which was more valuable than gold to the lads. "He's written it over and over again, in French, English, Swedish, Finnish, German, Russian, Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian. Interesting, isn't it? That the French 'deux', meaning 'two', and 'Dieu', signifying 'God', are so similar."
"Here now!" Bodie grabbed the treasured paper from his friend's hand. "Haven't you had enough trouble like that, without seeking more?"
Doyle nodded, whilst hastily resuming his clothing. Suddenly he paused, scratching his head in puzzlement. "But wait! How did the Cardinal know to write the pass for two, when we only met for the first time just now?"
Bodie dragged Doyle into a huge hug, and murmured in his ear. "Perhaps our friendship is written in the stars, and Richelieu read it displayed there, like diamonds across the very heavens. Who knows?"
Doyle took Bodie's hand in his own then, and the companions fled. Hoping for a tiny fragment of peace together, at last they abandoned the vast field of war.
Reply
Leave a comment