Title: Hot As Hell Below
Author: Slashydutchie
Fandom: Les Miserables
Pairing: Javert/Valjean
Rating: M to be safe and possibly for later chapters
Disclaimer: If I were Victor Hugo, this would've been in the book. So no, I don't own it and am not making any money out of this.
The sun was burning in Toulon as always, hammering its merciless rays onto the convicts' tattered garments. So much so that some of them had already forsaken their shirts, risking a sunburn worse than the one they usually sported after a day of hard and involuntary work.
Contrary to what most of the men in the chain gang thought, their guards weren't that much better off. While they were free from abuse other than the occasional muttered comment, their uniform did little to keep out the heat and the constant patrolling to keep the prisoners in line didn't help much either. The caps were a plus during the early hours, when the light was still hard on the eyes, but now only served to make their heads sweat worse.
But there is always that one guy who suffers just a bit more than the rest. In this case, it was Javert.
While his uniform was impeccable as always, even with drops of sweat gracing his stern brow, the guard was suffering from a different kind of heat entirely.
As he made his rounds his dark gaze kept wandering. Of course it remained focused on the men - or rather beasts - he was guarding, but he couldn't help but give one of them unwarranted attention. 24601 was among the convicts to remove his shirt. The ripple of his muscles whenever he once again displayed physical prowess Javert had previously thought mere men incapable of caused a stirring in the guard's loins that was at the very least unprofessional and truly – in his own mind – despicable.
It was bad enough from a distance, near enough to distinguish the thief's powerful body but far enough for Javert's furtive glances to be under the guise of straightening up and wiping the sweat from his brow. As he realized this, the guard lashed out at the convict nearest to him, uncharacteristically snarling at the cowering man to get back to work and sorely tempted to give him a good whack with the butt of his rifle.
A guise! He, Javert, needed a guise to perform an act this worthless, this utterly obnoxious. His disgust was only fueled by his failure to remain composed and for a split second he felt something approaching relief when one of his colleagues came over to switch rounds with him. That is, until he realized this particular co-worker had been patrolling the row of convicts that included 24601.
Never one to back down, Javert went to make his new rounds in spite of the beast tempting him.
Closer now, he could clearly see the shimmering layer of sweat that lay over those incredible muscles, could smell the manly scent of him... and hated him more with each passing second. Javert knew he was better than the mud he'd been spawned from – strived to be better ever single day of his life – and here was this bestial creature attempting to drag him down once again, to pull him into the filth until it suffocated him. Until his ideals and moral value would be gone and all that was left would be something so low and contemptible even the most torturous of deaths would be too kind a sentence.
But he was not going to let this... man... succeed through his failure, for clearly that was 24601's intention, to be the undoing of Javert! Well, he wasn't about to be mocked!