FIC: Lesser Gods 2/5
Part 1: http://kathana-grey.livejournal.com/27758.html
.-#-.
A firm push between his shoulder blades propelled a sputtering, damp and shaved - all over but his head, damn them!- Gibbs into another suite of rooms. He had done his level best not to show the enemy any emotion but having a muscular stranger hold a razor blade to his private bits and scrap off every gray hair to be found... provoked more than a few death glares. Being a Marine and manscaping simply didn't go together. The guards ignored him completely and handled him like the Gunny was a big damaged puppet in need of restoration. Bathed him, shaved him, applied cream to his every scrap and oil to the rest before handing him a fine linen loincloth and leading him here.
Gibbs looked around. Very modern, very chic. Open floor plan, bullet proof windows. Only one occupant in sight. He had expected the alien to usurp the White House as Headquarter, if only to snub the conquered humans, but instead he had been led here, into the penthouse suite of the Marriott. What did it say about Gibbs' mental state that he was relieved to see only the creature and not another bunch of … Harem guards and giggling beauties?
Those four women certainly hadn't looked down trodden, threatened and in need of rescue! Instead they had circled the newcomer and inspected him with an air of incredulous disdain. Tugged at his gray hair, whispered behind their hands about his rough appearance. There could be no bigger contrast between this old, battle scarred Gunny and what looked like a Nubian model, her skin so dark it shone blue, an equally stunning Celtic stock beauty, a curvy Latin lass and an Asian Geisha. How the hell did he fit among these Best of collection? Well, Gibbs sneered internally, the creature was welcome to them and they to it. How could they fuck the enemy while it was tearing their world apart?
The creature in question was slouching in a upholstered chair beside the dinner table which was laden with heaps of files and loose sheets of papers. You couldn't say sitting, it had one leg over the armrest and its body was twisted so it looked as if it would slide of the seat any second, new fancy pants not providing enough friction to hold him on the seat. Gibbs right hand tingled, he straightened his own posture and didn't think about how much he would love to deliver a resounding slap upside its head.
Then it turned its head and the way it devoured him with its glowing eyes reminded the Gunny about his second ex-wife Diane. He wouldn't be too surprised if he would find out that she had been part of a scout group. Her snake nature would fit perfectly.
“Much better, especially the scent. Although the battered hero look had its own charm.” Dante commented and its eyes lowered to where the loincloth began. “I miss the treasure trail - that's the right expression, yes? - it was more attractive than all this oiled smoothness.”
Gibbs glowered and pointedly refrained from moving his hands away from his sides and to his front.
“I asked Colonel Burley to compile a special dossier for me. Take a look. I thought you might want to know how your friends are doing.” The alien shoved a file across the polished surface of the table and then returned to his previous reading material, seemingly forgetting about the human. And what was capturing its attention? A fashion mag, didn't it figure.
Gibbs flipped the thick file open and was greeted by pictures of familiar faces. Small hints like banners in the background, flowers on bushes and clothes he had never seen on them before indicated that they were recent and not from way back when the first snow had accompanied the first invasion. Not only his resistance group (with pictures that showed his camp and they couldn't be older than a week) was listed, the missing as well as the ones he had been torn away from only hours ago. The people he had worked with as a Special Agent and who he regarded as his family were featured as well and he knew who he had to thank for that particular pleasure. He would kill Burley. It took effort to school his features into blandness, to not touch the glossy picture of Abby who was talking to someone off-screen or to take extra time to study the new worry lines on Ducky's face.
“You will get weekly reports, I don't want you to worry about them.”
“Now what?” Gibbs demanded and closed the file. While he had worried about the fate of his group and friends, this was not the way he had pictured getting updates. It didn't take a genius to guess that Dante wanted it made clear that he knew exactly who Gibbs cared about and that he would hold his good behavior hostage in exchange for their continued good health.
“Now we get to know each other better. Or, you get to know me better.” the creature smiled. A big, charming all out smile.
Not only no, but hell, no! Know your enemy was one thing but first hand carnal knowledge with an alien creature was one step too far. Something must have shown, Gibbs blamed his exhaustion for the slip, because Dante chuckled. Chuckling was better than rage, but not much.
“The look on your face! Just like one of those affronted virgins in your day time soaps. Calm yourself. There are so many willing volunteers throwing themselves at me and to be honest, I was never much into unwilling bed mates, I don't have to force anyone. I leave that to my cousin Ch'live.”
“Now. What.” Gibbs repeated and refused to react to the taunts. If it wasn't interested in him sexually, why the eye fucks? Was he that far off with his assessment? Gibbs had watched video transmissions of Ptah, Dante's predecessor, after the battle of Alexandria. Ptah had made a big production out of executing leaders of the US government in front of as many people as he could organize. Maybe this new alien was the same with a new twist, wanted to stroke its own ego in front of a defeated enemy.
Dante stretched and lowered his eyelids until the glow wasn't as off-putting strange anymore.“That does not mean that I will not chain you to... not my bed, I don't think it is good for my health to have you within reach while I sleep, so how about the couch? It's quite comfortable and you look, excuse me, beat. You can rest there while I take care of some business.” It stood up, prowled to the piece of furniture in question and patted the upholstery invitingly.
Gibbs was not a sex toy, nor was he a pet to be ordered to heel! But he also had learned when it was better to swallow ones pride, bide his time. If the alien wanted to offer him a ring side seat to the inner workings of his freak show it was no skin of the rebel's nose. He marched to the couch and sat down, his back straight. The cuff closing around his ankle was no surprise, Dante had said he would chain him, but the quality of the device was- It was like no cuff he had ever seen. Alien in nature, especially the lock, a sort of electronic device with a sleek chain attached to a hook in the floor. No chance to pick it with his lock picks, even if he had them anymore. It would give him enough room to reach the table and what he guessed was the door to the bathroom, but not the huge bed at the far side of the suite.
A warm touch to his naked ankle made Gibbs switch his attention from the shackle to Dante. They must make a curious picture, the successful invader kneeling on one knee in front of his captive. Gibbs studied the full lips and the way their corners curved upwards in a joke only Dante seemed to understand.
Someone politely knocked on the door. It opened and the Jaffa that had seen to Gibbs' grooming, maybe he was some kind of majordomos, entered and announced something in a guttural language. Dante rolled his eyes, slowly stood up and returned to his files at the table.
The next hour was filled with people groveling at the alien's feet and some interesting decisions. The visitors were a curious mixture of Jaffa, earth military, politicians and businessmen and women who all tried to gain favor with the new 'Overlord of Earth'. It didn't seem to be a formal meeting, nobody sat down and servants circulated, offering plates with refreshments.
Gibbs got the impression that, while Dante wasn't very savvy when it came to the finer points of earth culture, he had good instincts when it came to someone trying to bullshit him. A portly man, his hands expressively painting castles in the air, insisted that all that was missing from his product being a huge success was permission to erect his new factory in the middle of some nice woodlands so he would be nearer to his resources. Wouldn't his highness consider removing some pesky obstacles? Lyrell would be eternally grateful
The spot he wanted belonged to a competitor who wasn't present at the gathering. Gibbs only knew details because the other company was a source for his own boat projects.
It got comical when Dante asked if more trees weren't available in Siberia and grandly ordered Lyrell to relocate there. It wasn't the only time Gibbs saw the alien gleefully squash the hopes of his admirers or ask some seemingly stupid question that nevertheless exposed the real motivation behind a request.
Nobody payed Gibbs any overt attention. Every gaze just seemed to stutter for a second when they glided over his chains, with Burley being the exception. His former senior agent, whenever he wasn't sucking up to Dante, was trying to catch Gibbs' eyes. If, and Gibbs wasn't very hopeful that it was the case, Stan wasn't a traitor but trying to sabotage the system from within, he wasn't going at it smartly. The middle of a social gathering where all participants were suspiciously trying to keep everyone else in their sight wasn't the place or time to connect with an obvious rebel.
Much too soon for the taste of the visitors Dante announced that he now wanted to rest and his stoic guards ushered everyone out of the rooms.
.-#-.
Gibbs didn't know what had woken him up but he knew that something had changed. He gave no outward indication that he wasn't sleeping anymore but let his hearing scout the room for him. Instead of regular breathing harsh, distressed sounds were reaching him.
Did aliens have nightmares?
Fumbling. The rustling of sheets, something was pushed off the nightstand and landed with a papery plop on the thick carpet in front of the bed. Then the small lamp was switched on. Gibbs opened his eyes. There was no use in playing dead, he was known to be a highly trained field operative and as such would never sleep through such a huge disturbance.
He sat up and discarded the afghan that had served as his blanket.
The lamp's muted glow allowed Gibbs to see more details about the figure in the bed.
“Oh. I thought I was alone.” No freaky eyes glowing in the dark, no metallic voice. Instead moss green eyes were blinking at him. “I'm usually alone when I wake up.”
.-#-.
Part 3: http://kathana-grey.livejournal.com/28187.html
.-#-.
A firm push between his shoulder blades propelled a sputtering, damp and shaved - all over but his head, damn them!- Gibbs into another suite of rooms. He had done his level best not to show the enemy any emotion but having a muscular stranger hold a razor blade to his private bits and scrap off every gray hair to be found... provoked more than a few death glares. Being a Marine and manscaping simply didn't go together. The guards ignored him completely and handled him like the Gunny was a big damaged puppet in need of restoration. Bathed him, shaved him, applied cream to his every scrap and oil to the rest before handing him a fine linen loincloth and leading him here.
Gibbs looked around. Very modern, very chic. Open floor plan, bullet proof windows. Only one occupant in sight. He had expected the alien to usurp the White House as Headquarter, if only to snub the conquered humans, but instead he had been led here, into the penthouse suite of the Marriott. What did it say about Gibbs' mental state that he was relieved to see only the creature and not another bunch of … Harem guards and giggling beauties?
Those four women certainly hadn't looked down trodden, threatened and in need of rescue! Instead they had circled the newcomer and inspected him with an air of incredulous disdain. Tugged at his gray hair, whispered behind their hands about his rough appearance. There could be no bigger contrast between this old, battle scarred Gunny and what looked like a Nubian model, her skin so dark it shone blue, an equally stunning Celtic stock beauty, a curvy Latin lass and an Asian Geisha. How the hell did he fit among these Best of collection? Well, Gibbs sneered internally, the creature was welcome to them and they to it. How could they fuck the enemy while it was tearing their world apart?
The creature in question was slouching in a upholstered chair beside the dinner table which was laden with heaps of files and loose sheets of papers. You couldn't say sitting, it had one leg over the armrest and its body was twisted so it looked as if it would slide of the seat any second, new fancy pants not providing enough friction to hold him on the seat. Gibbs right hand tingled, he straightened his own posture and didn't think about how much he would love to deliver a resounding slap upside its head.
Then it turned its head and the way it devoured him with its glowing eyes reminded the Gunny about his second ex-wife Diane. He wouldn't be too surprised if he would find out that she had been part of a scout group. Her snake nature would fit perfectly.
“Much better, especially the scent. Although the battered hero look had its own charm.” Dante commented and its eyes lowered to where the loincloth began. “I miss the treasure trail - that's the right expression, yes? - it was more attractive than all this oiled smoothness.”
Gibbs glowered and pointedly refrained from moving his hands away from his sides and to his front.
“I asked Colonel Burley to compile a special dossier for me. Take a look. I thought you might want to know how your friends are doing.” The alien shoved a file across the polished surface of the table and then returned to his previous reading material, seemingly forgetting about the human. And what was capturing its attention? A fashion mag, didn't it figure.
Gibbs flipped the thick file open and was greeted by pictures of familiar faces. Small hints like banners in the background, flowers on bushes and clothes he had never seen on them before indicated that they were recent and not from way back when the first snow had accompanied the first invasion. Not only his resistance group (with pictures that showed his camp and they couldn't be older than a week) was listed, the missing as well as the ones he had been torn away from only hours ago. The people he had worked with as a Special Agent and who he regarded as his family were featured as well and he knew who he had to thank for that particular pleasure. He would kill Burley. It took effort to school his features into blandness, to not touch the glossy picture of Abby who was talking to someone off-screen or to take extra time to study the new worry lines on Ducky's face.
“You will get weekly reports, I don't want you to worry about them.”
“Now what?” Gibbs demanded and closed the file. While he had worried about the fate of his group and friends, this was not the way he had pictured getting updates. It didn't take a genius to guess that Dante wanted it made clear that he knew exactly who Gibbs cared about and that he would hold his good behavior hostage in exchange for their continued good health.
“Now we get to know each other better. Or, you get to know me better.” the creature smiled. A big, charming all out smile.
Not only no, but hell, no! Know your enemy was one thing but first hand carnal knowledge with an alien creature was one step too far. Something must have shown, Gibbs blamed his exhaustion for the slip, because Dante chuckled. Chuckling was better than rage, but not much.
“The look on your face! Just like one of those affronted virgins in your day time soaps. Calm yourself. There are so many willing volunteers throwing themselves at me and to be honest, I was never much into unwilling bed mates, I don't have to force anyone. I leave that to my cousin Ch'live.”
“Now. What.” Gibbs repeated and refused to react to the taunts. If it wasn't interested in him sexually, why the eye fucks? Was he that far off with his assessment? Gibbs had watched video transmissions of Ptah, Dante's predecessor, after the battle of Alexandria. Ptah had made a big production out of executing leaders of the US government in front of as many people as he could organize. Maybe this new alien was the same with a new twist, wanted to stroke its own ego in front of a defeated enemy.
Dante stretched and lowered his eyelids until the glow wasn't as off-putting strange anymore.“That does not mean that I will not chain you to... not my bed, I don't think it is good for my health to have you within reach while I sleep, so how about the couch? It's quite comfortable and you look, excuse me, beat. You can rest there while I take care of some business.” It stood up, prowled to the piece of furniture in question and patted the upholstery invitingly.
Gibbs was not a sex toy, nor was he a pet to be ordered to heel! But he also had learned when it was better to swallow ones pride, bide his time. If the alien wanted to offer him a ring side seat to the inner workings of his freak show it was no skin of the rebel's nose. He marched to the couch and sat down, his back straight. The cuff closing around his ankle was no surprise, Dante had said he would chain him, but the quality of the device was- It was like no cuff he had ever seen. Alien in nature, especially the lock, a sort of electronic device with a sleek chain attached to a hook in the floor. No chance to pick it with his lock picks, even if he had them anymore. It would give him enough room to reach the table and what he guessed was the door to the bathroom, but not the huge bed at the far side of the suite.
A warm touch to his naked ankle made Gibbs switch his attention from the shackle to Dante. They must make a curious picture, the successful invader kneeling on one knee in front of his captive. Gibbs studied the full lips and the way their corners curved upwards in a joke only Dante seemed to understand.
Someone politely knocked on the door. It opened and the Jaffa that had seen to Gibbs' grooming, maybe he was some kind of majordomos, entered and announced something in a guttural language. Dante rolled his eyes, slowly stood up and returned to his files at the table.
The next hour was filled with people groveling at the alien's feet and some interesting decisions. The visitors were a curious mixture of Jaffa, earth military, politicians and businessmen and women who all tried to gain favor with the new 'Overlord of Earth'. It didn't seem to be a formal meeting, nobody sat down and servants circulated, offering plates with refreshments.
Gibbs got the impression that, while Dante wasn't very savvy when it came to the finer points of earth culture, he had good instincts when it came to someone trying to bullshit him. A portly man, his hands expressively painting castles in the air, insisted that all that was missing from his product being a huge success was permission to erect his new factory in the middle of some nice woodlands so he would be nearer to his resources. Wouldn't his highness consider removing some pesky obstacles? Lyrell would be eternally grateful
The spot he wanted belonged to a competitor who wasn't present at the gathering. Gibbs only knew details because the other company was a source for his own boat projects.
It got comical when Dante asked if more trees weren't available in Siberia and grandly ordered Lyrell to relocate there. It wasn't the only time Gibbs saw the alien gleefully squash the hopes of his admirers or ask some seemingly stupid question that nevertheless exposed the real motivation behind a request.
Nobody payed Gibbs any overt attention. Every gaze just seemed to stutter for a second when they glided over his chains, with Burley being the exception. His former senior agent, whenever he wasn't sucking up to Dante, was trying to catch Gibbs' eyes. If, and Gibbs wasn't very hopeful that it was the case, Stan wasn't a traitor but trying to sabotage the system from within, he wasn't going at it smartly. The middle of a social gathering where all participants were suspiciously trying to keep everyone else in their sight wasn't the place or time to connect with an obvious rebel.
Much too soon for the taste of the visitors Dante announced that he now wanted to rest and his stoic guards ushered everyone out of the rooms.
.-#-.
Gibbs didn't know what had woken him up but he knew that something had changed. He gave no outward indication that he wasn't sleeping anymore but let his hearing scout the room for him. Instead of regular breathing harsh, distressed sounds were reaching him.
Did aliens have nightmares?
Fumbling. The rustling of sheets, something was pushed off the nightstand and landed with a papery plop on the thick carpet in front of the bed. Then the small lamp was switched on. Gibbs opened his eyes. There was no use in playing dead, he was known to be a highly trained field operative and as such would never sleep through such a huge disturbance.
He sat up and discarded the afghan that had served as his blanket.
The lamp's muted glow allowed Gibbs to see more details about the figure in the bed.
“Oh. I thought I was alone.” No freaky eyes glowing in the dark, no metallic voice. Instead moss green eyes were blinking at him. “I'm usually alone when I wake up.”
.-#-.
Part 3: http://kathana-grey.livejournal.com/28187.html