Blessing of Slaanesh
It's a unconscionably short distance from: "I'm uncomfortably horny!" to "All hail the prince of pleasure, all glory to She-who-thirsts!"
"Ugh, this is so belaboured."
"I know what you mean."
"But at the same time, we cannot let our guard down..."
"Can't we? But if we can't, who can?"
Lord Commissar-General Simone Thanh walked in, her uniform impeccable. "Checking our foundational materials there? Commendable of you. And that's a good question, but there's only one answer possible, as the seniormost commissariat members under me in this Theatre, the answer is, if you can't no one can, unless perhaps, if someone is waving an Inquisitorial Rosette around, then declared someone fit to do so..."
The two commissars stood-to.
"At ease, you two, don't stop what you're doing, I needed to talk to you. If anything, this is germane to what I need to talk to you about..."
"Of course, Sir."
"We're at your disposal."
"I've been looking at your numbers, both of you, you need to reign down some of your troops' enthusiasm for fraternising. Pregnancies in both units are up... Haven't you been cracking down on this?"
"I have."
"I have as well, Lord-General Commissar." Carmine's red hair was usually seen as paler, but the yellowish light made her almost auburn, a warm, pleasant shade. Even the general's hair looked warm and pleasant, out from under her peaked cap, but Michael was fighting the urge to fight back. "I've investigated every pregnancy, none I've investigated were with members of our unit, which is against regulations."
"How is that possible? Your numbers are quite higher than average, and the cogitators and the like can't make heads or tails out of this..."
"Quite simply, Lord-Gen..."
"Call me Simone, we're in the mess, not on a frakking parade ground, and I'm not wearing that stupid cap!"
"Quite simply, Simone... The regulations say the troops shouldn't be fraternising within the unit..."
"And?"
"The fusiliers are three men to a woman. The Vandoos are two women to a man."
"I'm sorry?"
"The unit, in this case the regiment, doesn't say a Vandoo can't fraternize with a fusilier, or vice-versa."
Simone just palmed her face in frustration. "It's that simple?"
"Yes, no dark gods involved, just good old following the letter of the law, not the spirit. Do you wish to proclaim a wider ban, Simone?" Carmine was looking at him, her eyes luminous, it was distracting, he'd almost said Sir, which would have irritated the Lord-General.
"No, the reason it was like that was to keep this to a minimum, but we never expected any regiments to be close enough for long periods of time... If we made it against regs for a Division, why stop there? Why not the entire front? But then we'd take a hit on morale... Getting a little fraternising in is good for morale, sometimes." Michael thought Simone's grin was several grades too impish to belong to such a senior officer. But then he turned his head slightly, and caught Carmine blushing, so maybe it wasn't his imagination...
"Speak up Carmine, Michael's been doing all the talking, but both your regiments are involved, surely you'd seen this?"
"I've been investigating the cases myself, and several cases where the fraternizing didn't lead to pregnancy... All I can say is that Michael described the situation to a tee."
"Are you two plotting something?"
"No sir."
"No sir, I am not." Michael's reply was so sober, it bordered on funeral. A word from this woman and he'd be ordering his own firing squad...
"Oh, not like that... I mean, the regulations technically apply to you two as well, except, let's just say if I catch you two fraternizing, I may have to get creative..."
"I don't think that's likely Simone." Michael sighed.
"Oh, what have I missed?"
"Err, you know we've known each other for years, Simone..."
"Yes?"
"Michael, just stop, you're making this even more awkward... Simone, I broke off things with another Commissar recently... I'm not going to dip into that inkwell anytime soon..." Her lips, her words were saying no, no no. Her body was moving to a whole different rhythm however, if she admitted it to herself.
Back when they were teenagers, she'd only dated Michael twice, and they'd kept it to a chaste level, only simmering up to kissing. The way her whole body felt hot, she didn't think she'd be able to stop herself, if he so much as touched her pinky finger.
The lord's dress uniform was immaculate, as he berated his sorcerous underlings.
"Why is nothing happening? Are all my sorcerers incompetent?"
"Great Lord, we are unsure why these prove so resistant, except that we assume they were chosen for their resistance to... manipulation..."
Michael and Carmine were enjoying their evening soup, after a long day.
"How's your disciplinary review going?"
"Fine, yours?" It only had taken the word disciplinary to have Michael thinking of Carmine on his lap, her pants down by her nees, awaiting 'discipline'. He shook his head, trying to focus.
"Fine, just fine, no time to get any hard cases, since everyone's still so green they squeak." She couldn't know, but she was thinking the same thing as Michael was, in reverse, in a way. The slender commissar on his knees, naked, as she 'reviewed' him, her service riding crop, a relic of when the VanDoos has included cavalry in the 29th millenium, at the ready. Her face flushed, she sipped some more soup, hoping he'd attribute the flush to the warm meal.
"What's wrong with my sorcerers?!" The anger in the Magir's voice was palpable. "Can you not corrupt a pair of soft targets? I'll teach you new meanings of pain!"
More condition articles need good alouds! Great going.