fredbassett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fredbassett) wrote2010-01-05 09:41 am
fredbassett) wrote2010-01-05 09:41 am
Entry tags:
- fic,
- lester,
- nick,
- nick/lester,
- sl ash
Fic, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Nick/Lester, 18
Title : A Series of Unfortunate Events
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Nick/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : A series of domestic disasters brings Lester an unexpected houseguest. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
talliw for her birthday today. I hope you have a lovely day.
A/N : Many thanks tolukadreaming for the beta.
Nick typed the final words of his report, saved the document and then emailed it to Lester and Jenny. It had taken him two hours and he had a crick in his neck from staring at the screen for too long. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.
His back ached, his shoulders were stiff and he was bloody knackered. A night in one of the bunkrooms didn’t hold much appeal, but at least the ARC was warm, which was more than could be said for his house. His central heating boiler had finally given up the ghost a week ago and he still hadn’t managed to find a heating engineer who would turn up when they said would. A week of steady anomaly activity hadn’t exactly been conducive to waiting in for house-calls, either.
The ping of an email arriving in his inbox drew Nick’s attention.
He opened the mail, expecting to see and delete an ‘out of office’ reply from Lester. It was from Lester but what it said was, ‘Have you no home to go to?’
He pressed reply, typed, ‘Not unless I want to freeze to death,’ and sent it. As an afterthought, he replied again and said, ‘You’re no bloody better.’
Without waiting for a reply, Nick closed down his computer, turned the lights off in his office and walked through the atrium, exchanging nods with the duty ADD technician, as he made his way up the curving ramp, heading for the atrium and a coffee.
He opened the door and was greeted by the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. Lester was sitting in one of the sofas and there were two mugs and a plate of biscuits on the low table in front of it.
“Burning the midnight oil again, Cutter? You know perfectly well I never authorise overtime payments.”
Nick took an appreciative sniff of the coffee. Lester had laced it with a hefty slug of whisky. He was also lying about the overtime but Nick didn’t challenge him on it. There were some niceties around their working relationship that had to be preserved, after all.
“It’s Friday night,” said Nick, settling back into the sofa and munching on a biscuit. “Your dinner’ll be in the cat by now. Doesn’t your wife get sick of the hours you keep?”
“Yes, that’s why she’s divorcing me.”
The words dropped between them like ice.
Nick sighed. “Ach, sorry. That wasn’t one of my most tactful comments.”
“Cutter, tact has never been one of your virtues.”
That wasn’t exactly something he could disagree with, so for once in his life, Nick maintained a discreet silence and ate another biscuit.
“So why are you shunning the delights of home?” Lester quirked one eyebrow in a gesture that Nick had always wanted to cultivate, particularly when faced by annoying undergraduates.
“Knackered boiler.”
“And as I know only too well, there’s no plumber in the Home Counties who can keep an appointment.” Lester sighed. “I had the same problem at my flat last month. I’ll find the card of the man who finally fixed it. He charged the earth but he did arrive when he said he would.”
Nick nodded his thanks and they finished the coffee and biscuits in a companionable silence.
* * * * *
Lester was true to his word. The following morning, Nick received an email with the name and phone number of a heating engineer.
Two minutes later, the alarm on the anomaly detection device went off, precipitating the usual scramble to their vehicles followed by a romp around the Sussex countryside on the trail of a herd of eohippus. Snow started to fall in the middle of the afternoon which made tracking easier and by 6pm they had the intruders rounded up and were able to bundle them back through the anomaly before it closed.
No civilians had been injured and no public relations disasters had occurred so it counted as a good day, but by the time Nick got back to his desk, it was too late to start phoning tradesmen about his boiler, so he spent another night in the ARC.
* * * * *
That set the pattern for the next two days which were busier than Nick could remember for some while. On the first day, the snow hampered their efforts to deal with a dire wolf and a litter of cubs, but they were successfully repatriated eventually, again with no casualties.
The temperature warmed up rapidly on the second day and they sat around in the middle of Epping Forest watching an anomaly which appeared to lead to the middle of another forest in the Carboniferous. They spent the day wielding insect nets and Nick was left with an uneasy feeling that they hadn’t actually caught everything that had come through, but eventually the anomaly winked out of existence and there was nothing more he could do.
He arrived back at his desk to find a handwritten note from Lester. It said: I have called the man for you. He’ll be at your house at 10am tomorrow. Take the day off. That’s an order.
Nick grinned and for once was not inclined to argue. He was getting heartily sick of the bunkroom with its white painted walls and narrow bed, but his house really was too cold for comfort at this time of year.
* * * * *
As soon as Nick opened the door he knew he’d been an idiot. There was water dripping through the hall ceiling and the carpet was sopping wet. Upstairs, things were even worse. The ceiling was down in his bedroom, wet plaster everywhere, and water was still flowing from the burst pipe near the header-tank in the loft.
The heating engineer arrived while he was still struggling to turn off the stop tap under the kitchen sink.
The man took one look around, pursed his lips, and promptly set about the job with a monkey-wrench, which proved more effectively than Nick’s spanner. While he went up into the roof to inspect the damage there, Nick telephoned his insurance company. The fact that he only had himself to blame didn’t make things any easier.
The only good thing was that his books had escaped damage. Clothes and bedding would dry out, as would carpets and furniture. It would just take time, and an awful lot of dehumidifiers.
On top of all that the boiler needed a new part which would have to be ordered, so it looked like he would be enjoying the comforts of the ARC for a while longer.
* * * * *
When he arrived at his desk two days after the flood, Nick found a note from Lester which read: I have a spare room. You’re welcome to it.
By then he was so heartily sick of living off microwaved meals in the recreation room and staring at the same mass-produced painting of sunflowers on the bunkroom wall that he accepted Lester’s offer without demure. Beggars certainly couldn’t afford to be choosers.
Lester’s flat overlooked the Thames and had stunning views out over the London Eye from a floor-to-ceiling window. It was sparsely but tastefully furnished, in an interesting mix of antique and modern furniture. The spare room held two single beds, a small desk and a computer, all of which Lester told Nick he was free to make use of. There was a small bathroom next door, again available for his sole use.
Nick was profuse in his thanks, all of which Lester waved aside, but he did allow Nick to pay for dinner in a small and exceedingly pleasant Italian restaurant around the corner from the flat.
To Nick’s surprise, Lester proved to be an undemanding companion. The evening passed quickly and Nick found himself laughing at a series of anecdotes concerning the shadier goings-on in the corridors of power in Whitehall. By the time they returned to the flat to finish the evening off with an exceedingly good brandy, Nick had started to relax and was chiming in with stories of life in academia. By unspoken agreement they kept away from anything resembling personal matters and in particular their respective marriages.
* * * * *
By the end of the first week, they had fallen into an easy routine. Unless disturbed by anomaly-related activities, Lester would cook for them one day, and the next Nick would pay for dinner in a restaurant. Their conversation still remained light and general but, to Nick’s surprise, they never seemed to run out of things to say. Lester had a razor-sharp brain and Nick found his political insights endlessly fascinating. In return, Lester displayed an interest in the more technical aspects of Nick’s work on the project and it was clear that the civil servant had been doing his homework.
For once, the inhabitants of the ARC managed to pass an uneventful day catching up on paperwork and expenses claims and by 5.30pm both Nick and Lester were ready to brave the rush-hour traffic. Even that appeared to be kind to them and they reached the flat in a surprisingly mellow mood for a Friday evening.
Nick hung his jacket up in the cloakroom and toed off his boots while Lester went through his usual routine of checking the day’s post. Nick left him to it and went to make the gin and tonics which they treated themselves to at the end of a working week. By the time he took the drinks through to the living room, Lester still hadn’t moved from the hallway.
He was staring down at a piece of paper in his hand, lost in thought. A moment later, clearly conscious of Nick’s eyes on him, he folded the paper up carefully and slipped it back in the envelope. When Lester took the glass from Nick’s hands it was with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Conversation that night was unusually stilted. Lester had retired behind a wall that Nick lacked the means to breach. His manner was polite but distant. The envelope and its contents were not mentioned.
They ate filet steak, dauphinoise potatoes and peas in silence and drank more red wine than usual before retiring to the living room, still in silence. An hour later, Lester roused himself with an obvious effort, poured two large brandies and set one down on the small table next to the chair Nick habitually used.
“It was my decree absolute, Cutter.”
Nick looked up, surprised by the revelation and touched by the confidence. The words I’m sorry seemed inadequate, but he said them anyway.
Lester took a sip of his drink and stared out of the window.
“How long were you married for?” Nick kicked himself for asking the question, but the question was out of his mouth before he could bite it back.
“Fifteen years, two months and five days.”
Nick took a mouthful of his own drink and managed not to say, But who’s counting. Maybe he was managing to learn some tact, after all.
The look Lester gave him said that he’d drawn the same conclusion, but the half-smile which accompanied the look was a slight improvement.
Both men retired to bed early. It took a long time for Nick to get to sleep that night, and he suspected he wasn’t the only one staring into the darkness, dwelling on the past.
* * * * *
The reconstruction work on Nick’s house proceeded slowly but steadily. It had proved a bigger job than he’d anticipated and eventually he had to bow to the inevitable and put many of his books and other possessions into temporary storage, simply to allow a small army of plasterers, decorators and other workmen room to move.
He gave up on some of the carpets and ordered new ones. The insurance company paid, but it was simply one more thing which had to be chosen and ordered, with the inevitable delays for fitting. Getting the plaster dried out ready for decoration was the main problem in winter, but Lester seemed in no hurry to reclaim the use of his spare room. This gave Nick the luxury of allowing the works to take their own time, without him having to fight a constant – and probably losing – battle against other people’s schedules. He even managed to joke about the inevitable tendency of British workmen to down tools in the middle of one job and dash off to another, rather than getting stressed about it.
Nick also had to admit that James Lester was the main reason he’d managed to survive the disruption to his life and still stay sane. The alternative would have been to book into a hotel or a bed and breakfast for the duration, but when he’d suggested that, Lester had politely but firmly put his foot down, refusing to let Nick consider himself to be an imposition.
So they worked together, ate together, watched television together and, to Nick’s lasting amazement, appeared not to get on each other’s nerves. On occasion, the conversation even crossed the line into personal without either of them shying away.
Nick learned that Lester had met his wife at university and married her two years later. They had two children, aged 14 and 12, both of whom went to boarding school. Caroline, his ex-wife, worked for the Foreign Office, but it had not made her more tolerant of Lester’s own career path and they had gradually grown apart. He had accepted it but had not wanted the marriage to end. She, however, had met someone else and had wanted a clean break. Or as clean a break as was possible with children involved.
Lester saw his children frequently and would have them to stay in the holidays, but even he had to admit that the demands of his current job were not conducive to family arrangements. More than once Nick had listened to Lester on the phone apologising for failure to meet his obligations and it didn’t take a mind-reader to know how the civil servant felt on those occasions. The pained look on his face said it all.
On days like that, it made Nick thankful that he and Helen had never had children.
* * * * *
It took nearly two months for Nick’s house to be returned to a habitable state but eventually it was ready for him to move his belongings back into. The return coincided with a cessation of anomaly-related activities and in the space of a long weekend Nick was able reoccupy the house and start to turn it back into a home again.
Two days later, he had to face the fact that he missed Lester’s company.
* * * * *
Nick decided to take a leaf out of James Lester’s book. Arriving at work early on a Thursday morning, he scribbled a note which said: Dinner, my house, Friday night.
He was treated to a smile and a nod in the morning meeting.
Nick knew he wasn’t much of a cook, but he also knew what Lester liked, which made life easier. To his amazement, the ADD didn’t ruin his plans and he was home by 6.30pm. A quick shower and a change of clothes left him plenty of time to make the preparations and by 7.30, when Lester arrived, as punctual as ever, all Nick had to do was pour two gin and tonics and add slices of lime.
They retired to the living room and fell into their usual routine of swopping stories of the day’s events. Nick had been engaged most of the day on readying a paper for publication, being careful to ensure that nothing he said breached the Official Secrets Act, while Lester had spent the afternoon in a budget meeting in the Home Office. Lester appeared reasonably certain that he had emerged victorious on all counts, which both men agreed merited a second large gin.
Half an hour later, they were enjoying smoked salmon and champagne and Lester seemed as relaxed as Nick had ever seen him. Shortly afterwards, Nick served a main meal consisting of Dover sole, new potatoes and salad, all of which was eaten with relish.
“I didn’t know you could cook, Cutter,” said Lester, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “Next time you render yourself homeless, I’ll give you the run of the kitchen as well.”
“You’ve just eaten my entire repertoire,” grinned Nick, carefully concealing the fact that he’d cooked Dover sole for most of the week, until he was certain he could manage it properly.
They finished off with a cheeseboard courtesy of Nick’s local delicatessen, which he knew Lester preferred to dessert, and retired again to the living room for coffee and brandies.
While Nick tidied away their plates, Lester entertained himself by browsing through Nick’s book collection then he surprised Nick by joining him on the settee, rather than choosing one of the armchairs. Nick’s stomach fluttered slightly and he realised with a start that he hadn’t felt a sensation like that since he’d first asked Helen back to his flat, a month after he’d met her.
With something approaching shyness, Nick settled back into the corner of the settee and crossed one ankle comfortably over his knee, carefully avoiding meeting Lester’s eyes.
An amused chuckle put paid to his avoidance tactics.
Lester deposited his glass on the coffee table, whisked Nick’s out of his fingers and set it down next to it, saying, “Cutter, we’ve danced around each other like a couple of virgins on a first date for long enough.”
Nick’s eyes shot wide open and he groped for words. He was still trying to find his brain again when Lester’s lips closed lightly over his and a tongue which tasted pleasantly of brandy slipped into his mouth. Nick allowed Lester to deepen the kiss. A hand slipped around the back of his neck and then they were kissing properly, but unlike kisses with Helen, it didn’t turn into a battle for dominance, but remained a kiss between equals.
When Lester finally drew back, it was Nick’s turn to chuckle. “If I’d known the way to your heart was through your stomach, I would have offered to cook weeks ago.”
A slight smile quirked Lester’s lips. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to send you a memo. You can be remarkably oblivious, Cutter, you do know that, don’t you?”
Nick grinned. “Aye, it has been mentioned. I suppose there might be some truth in it.”
Lester snorted and ran the tips of his fingers lightly across the back of Nick’s hand. “I believe the prevalent opinion in the office is that we’ve been at it like rabbits for the past month.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “And I’m the last one to know, I suppose?”
His companion nodded and followed it up with another kiss.
Their progress towards the bedroom was unhurried but they arrived there eventually, still kissing. Clothes were shed in an equally unhurried manner and their hands started to explore each others bodies in a leisurely fashion, but the first touch of Lester’s hand on his cock made Nick gasp. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since a hand other than his own had touched him there.
Things became rather more urgent after that. Nick hadn’t been with a man since a certain amount of experimentation in his student days and he’d forgotten just how good the rasp of stubble felt against his skin. There was nothing in the hard, lean planes of James Lester’s body to remind him of Helen and Nick soon lost himself in a world of warmth and touch, giving and receiving pleasure in equal measure.
He reached his first climax of the night in Lester’s mouth, hands gripping the other man’s shoulders tightly enough to bruise, but he received no complaints. At some point, Lester produced a packet of condoms and a tube of lubricant from his discarded clothing and quirked one eyebrow questioningly at Nick.
Nick took the foil packet from Lester and ripped it open with his teeth. His companion’s hard cock jutted out from the tangle of dark hair at his groin. Nick leaned down and ran his tongue over the head, savouring the salty tang. He was rewarded by a groan. He sucked Lester’s cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it experimentally. This wasn’t something he had any practice at, but he had no aversion to trying.
“I’m not going to last long like this, Cutter,” said Lester in a surprisingly conversational tone of voice. “You’d better decide what you want. I think I might be somewhat beyond the stage of managing to get it up twice a night.”
Nick grinned around his mouthful but drew back anyway. He already knew what he wanted.
Slowly, he rolled the condom down Lester’s hard length then settled himself onto his stomach, his head pillowed on one arm. Lester pressed a light kiss between Nick’s shoulder blades then started to massage his back, working steadily down until his hands finally came to rest on Nick’s buttocks. Gently, Lester spread the cheeks of his arse and ran a tongue lightly over Nick’s hole.
Christ, that was a new one on him and for a moment Nick stiffened in embarrassment, unsure how to react.
“Relax,” Lester breathed, and licked a long, wet stripe up Nick’s body before returning to lap insistently at his hole.
Nick took a deep breath and did as he was told. It felt good, so bloody good, but he needed more now. He wanted Lester inside him.
He felt a cool, slick finger replace Lester’s tongue and press lightly against the entrance to his body. He pushed back against the intrusion and the finger slipped into him easily. Nick’s face flushed with embarrassment and he felt himself tense up against it.
Lester’s other hand rubbed small circles on his back and an amused voice said, “I thought I told you to relax?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder with a wry smile. “I thought I was doing quite well considering the last time I did anything like this was at university.”
“Well, they do say that university broadens the mind,” said Lester, slipping a second finger into Nick’s body and stroking gently in and out.
The fingers crooked slightly and Nick felt a jolt of pleasure through his body. “What the hell was that?” he gasped.
“Your prostate, Professor Cutter. Do I take it university didn’t extend your education quite that far?”
It was Nick’s turn to chuckle. “Lester, the other bloke was reading history, not biology and we were both 19. We were also drunk. If you must know, it felt like taking a crap in reverse. He fired after three strokes, which was fortunate, really.”
Lester’s laugh was low and throaty and he continued the slow, exquisite drift of his fingers. “Ah, the joys of student life,” he murmured, gently slipping a third finger into Nick’s increasingly relaxed body and continuing to massage his prostate.
Nick squirmed with pleasure and realised with surprise that he was getting hard again. He couldn’t remember when anything had last felt this good. He was over the embarrassment of such intimate contact and was definitely enjoying this. Lester seemed to be determined to stretch him as much as possible before replacing his fingers with his cock, but eventually he nudged Nick’s legs apart and settled between them, his weight on one elbow while his other hand guided his cock to Nick’s entrance.
The penetration was slow and gentle. Lester allowed him to adjust to the sensation of being stretched and filled before setting up an equally gentle rhythm which gradually became harder and deeper. Nick groaned with pleasure, sweat breaking out on his body. He hadn’t realised it could feel like this. He pushed back, meeting Lester’s thrusts enthusiastically.
Strong arms slid under Nick’s body, tugging him to his knees on the bed while Lester changed the angle of his thrusts so that each stroke was raking his prostate, sending sparks through his body to dance along his spine. He was panting now, head thrown back, eyes closed then Lester’s long fingers grasped his cock and started to stroke him in time with each thrust into his body.
Nick cried out, his body tightening around Lester’s cock as he hit his second climax of the night, come spurting onto the sheets below him. Lester groaned and lost his rhythm, thrusting raggedly into Nick’s body at the same time as pressing hot, wet kisses onto his back. Nick felt his lover stiffen and groan, pushing hard up against him, holding Nick tight as though he never wanted to let go.
They subsided gracelessly into a heap on the bed, laughing and panting, all reserve finally swept away. Lester gentled him through the final tremors of an orgasm made more intense by the fact that for once, he hadn’t been the instigator of his own climax.
Nick twisted in his lover’s arms, seeking out his mouth for a breathless kiss.
Lester lay on his back, panting, one arm looped around Nick’s waist, his eyes closed and his face open and vulnerable in a way that Nick had never seen before.
He leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Lester’s lips. “Thank you, James,” he murmured. “I rather think you’re better at this than I am.”
“Practice makes perfect,” said Lester with a lazy, contented smile. “Rather like cooking, and the results are equally as satisfying. Dare I hope that this might become a regular occurrence, Nick?”
Nick smiled down at him. “I think that could be arranged. There’s another four Dover soles in the fridge, just in case I mucked the first lot up.”
Feeling sated, and happier than he could remember in years, Nick disposed of the condom, cleaned then both up, then snuggled down again under the duvet, his head resting on Lester’s shoulder.
He had no idea what the future held, for either of them, but for the first time Nick allowed himself to hope that he might not have to face it alone.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Nick/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : A series of domestic disasters brings Lester an unexpected houseguest. Written for
talliw for her birthday today. I hope you have a lovely day.A/N : Many thanks to
lukadreaming for the beta.Nick typed the final words of his report, saved the document and then emailed it to Lester and Jenny. It had taken him two hours and he had a crick in his neck from staring at the screen for too long. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.
His back ached, his shoulders were stiff and he was bloody knackered. A night in one of the bunkrooms didn’t hold much appeal, but at least the ARC was warm, which was more than could be said for his house. His central heating boiler had finally given up the ghost a week ago and he still hadn’t managed to find a heating engineer who would turn up when they said would. A week of steady anomaly activity hadn’t exactly been conducive to waiting in for house-calls, either.
The ping of an email arriving in his inbox drew Nick’s attention.
He opened the mail, expecting to see and delete an ‘out of office’ reply from Lester. It was from Lester but what it said was, ‘Have you no home to go to?’
He pressed reply, typed, ‘Not unless I want to freeze to death,’ and sent it. As an afterthought, he replied again and said, ‘You’re no bloody better.’
Without waiting for a reply, Nick closed down his computer, turned the lights off in his office and walked through the atrium, exchanging nods with the duty ADD technician, as he made his way up the curving ramp, heading for the atrium and a coffee.
He opened the door and was greeted by the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. Lester was sitting in one of the sofas and there were two mugs and a plate of biscuits on the low table in front of it.
“Burning the midnight oil again, Cutter? You know perfectly well I never authorise overtime payments.”
Nick took an appreciative sniff of the coffee. Lester had laced it with a hefty slug of whisky. He was also lying about the overtime but Nick didn’t challenge him on it. There were some niceties around their working relationship that had to be preserved, after all.
“It’s Friday night,” said Nick, settling back into the sofa and munching on a biscuit. “Your dinner’ll be in the cat by now. Doesn’t your wife get sick of the hours you keep?”
“Yes, that’s why she’s divorcing me.”
The words dropped between them like ice.
Nick sighed. “Ach, sorry. That wasn’t one of my most tactful comments.”
“Cutter, tact has never been one of your virtues.”
That wasn’t exactly something he could disagree with, so for once in his life, Nick maintained a discreet silence and ate another biscuit.
“So why are you shunning the delights of home?” Lester quirked one eyebrow in a gesture that Nick had always wanted to cultivate, particularly when faced by annoying undergraduates.
“Knackered boiler.”
“And as I know only too well, there’s no plumber in the Home Counties who can keep an appointment.” Lester sighed. “I had the same problem at my flat last month. I’ll find the card of the man who finally fixed it. He charged the earth but he did arrive when he said he would.”
Nick nodded his thanks and they finished the coffee and biscuits in a companionable silence.
* * * * *
Lester was true to his word. The following morning, Nick received an email with the name and phone number of a heating engineer.
Two minutes later, the alarm on the anomaly detection device went off, precipitating the usual scramble to their vehicles followed by a romp around the Sussex countryside on the trail of a herd of eohippus. Snow started to fall in the middle of the afternoon which made tracking easier and by 6pm they had the intruders rounded up and were able to bundle them back through the anomaly before it closed.
No civilians had been injured and no public relations disasters had occurred so it counted as a good day, but by the time Nick got back to his desk, it was too late to start phoning tradesmen about his boiler, so he spent another night in the ARC.
* * * * *
That set the pattern for the next two days which were busier than Nick could remember for some while. On the first day, the snow hampered their efforts to deal with a dire wolf and a litter of cubs, but they were successfully repatriated eventually, again with no casualties.
The temperature warmed up rapidly on the second day and they sat around in the middle of Epping Forest watching an anomaly which appeared to lead to the middle of another forest in the Carboniferous. They spent the day wielding insect nets and Nick was left with an uneasy feeling that they hadn’t actually caught everything that had come through, but eventually the anomaly winked out of existence and there was nothing more he could do.
He arrived back at his desk to find a handwritten note from Lester. It said: I have called the man for you. He’ll be at your house at 10am tomorrow. Take the day off. That’s an order.
Nick grinned and for once was not inclined to argue. He was getting heartily sick of the bunkroom with its white painted walls and narrow bed, but his house really was too cold for comfort at this time of year.
* * * * *
As soon as Nick opened the door he knew he’d been an idiot. There was water dripping through the hall ceiling and the carpet was sopping wet. Upstairs, things were even worse. The ceiling was down in his bedroom, wet plaster everywhere, and water was still flowing from the burst pipe near the header-tank in the loft.
The heating engineer arrived while he was still struggling to turn off the stop tap under the kitchen sink.
The man took one look around, pursed his lips, and promptly set about the job with a monkey-wrench, which proved more effectively than Nick’s spanner. While he went up into the roof to inspect the damage there, Nick telephoned his insurance company. The fact that he only had himself to blame didn’t make things any easier.
The only good thing was that his books had escaped damage. Clothes and bedding would dry out, as would carpets and furniture. It would just take time, and an awful lot of dehumidifiers.
On top of all that the boiler needed a new part which would have to be ordered, so it looked like he would be enjoying the comforts of the ARC for a while longer.
* * * * *
When he arrived at his desk two days after the flood, Nick found a note from Lester which read: I have a spare room. You’re welcome to it.
By then he was so heartily sick of living off microwaved meals in the recreation room and staring at the same mass-produced painting of sunflowers on the bunkroom wall that he accepted Lester’s offer without demure. Beggars certainly couldn’t afford to be choosers.
Lester’s flat overlooked the Thames and had stunning views out over the London Eye from a floor-to-ceiling window. It was sparsely but tastefully furnished, in an interesting mix of antique and modern furniture. The spare room held two single beds, a small desk and a computer, all of which Lester told Nick he was free to make use of. There was a small bathroom next door, again available for his sole use.
Nick was profuse in his thanks, all of which Lester waved aside, but he did allow Nick to pay for dinner in a small and exceedingly pleasant Italian restaurant around the corner from the flat.
To Nick’s surprise, Lester proved to be an undemanding companion. The evening passed quickly and Nick found himself laughing at a series of anecdotes concerning the shadier goings-on in the corridors of power in Whitehall. By the time they returned to the flat to finish the evening off with an exceedingly good brandy, Nick had started to relax and was chiming in with stories of life in academia. By unspoken agreement they kept away from anything resembling personal matters and in particular their respective marriages.
* * * * *
By the end of the first week, they had fallen into an easy routine. Unless disturbed by anomaly-related activities, Lester would cook for them one day, and the next Nick would pay for dinner in a restaurant. Their conversation still remained light and general but, to Nick’s surprise, they never seemed to run out of things to say. Lester had a razor-sharp brain and Nick found his political insights endlessly fascinating. In return, Lester displayed an interest in the more technical aspects of Nick’s work on the project and it was clear that the civil servant had been doing his homework.
For once, the inhabitants of the ARC managed to pass an uneventful day catching up on paperwork and expenses claims and by 5.30pm both Nick and Lester were ready to brave the rush-hour traffic. Even that appeared to be kind to them and they reached the flat in a surprisingly mellow mood for a Friday evening.
Nick hung his jacket up in the cloakroom and toed off his boots while Lester went through his usual routine of checking the day’s post. Nick left him to it and went to make the gin and tonics which they treated themselves to at the end of a working week. By the time he took the drinks through to the living room, Lester still hadn’t moved from the hallway.
He was staring down at a piece of paper in his hand, lost in thought. A moment later, clearly conscious of Nick’s eyes on him, he folded the paper up carefully and slipped it back in the envelope. When Lester took the glass from Nick’s hands it was with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Conversation that night was unusually stilted. Lester had retired behind a wall that Nick lacked the means to breach. His manner was polite but distant. The envelope and its contents were not mentioned.
They ate filet steak, dauphinoise potatoes and peas in silence and drank more red wine than usual before retiring to the living room, still in silence. An hour later, Lester roused himself with an obvious effort, poured two large brandies and set one down on the small table next to the chair Nick habitually used.
“It was my decree absolute, Cutter.”
Nick looked up, surprised by the revelation and touched by the confidence. The words I’m sorry seemed inadequate, but he said them anyway.
Lester took a sip of his drink and stared out of the window.
“How long were you married for?” Nick kicked himself for asking the question, but the question was out of his mouth before he could bite it back.
“Fifteen years, two months and five days.”
Nick took a mouthful of his own drink and managed not to say, But who’s counting. Maybe he was managing to learn some tact, after all.
The look Lester gave him said that he’d drawn the same conclusion, but the half-smile which accompanied the look was a slight improvement.
Both men retired to bed early. It took a long time for Nick to get to sleep that night, and he suspected he wasn’t the only one staring into the darkness, dwelling on the past.
* * * * *
The reconstruction work on Nick’s house proceeded slowly but steadily. It had proved a bigger job than he’d anticipated and eventually he had to bow to the inevitable and put many of his books and other possessions into temporary storage, simply to allow a small army of plasterers, decorators and other workmen room to move.
He gave up on some of the carpets and ordered new ones. The insurance company paid, but it was simply one more thing which had to be chosen and ordered, with the inevitable delays for fitting. Getting the plaster dried out ready for decoration was the main problem in winter, but Lester seemed in no hurry to reclaim the use of his spare room. This gave Nick the luxury of allowing the works to take their own time, without him having to fight a constant – and probably losing – battle against other people’s schedules. He even managed to joke about the inevitable tendency of British workmen to down tools in the middle of one job and dash off to another, rather than getting stressed about it.
Nick also had to admit that James Lester was the main reason he’d managed to survive the disruption to his life and still stay sane. The alternative would have been to book into a hotel or a bed and breakfast for the duration, but when he’d suggested that, Lester had politely but firmly put his foot down, refusing to let Nick consider himself to be an imposition.
So they worked together, ate together, watched television together and, to Nick’s lasting amazement, appeared not to get on each other’s nerves. On occasion, the conversation even crossed the line into personal without either of them shying away.
Nick learned that Lester had met his wife at university and married her two years later. They had two children, aged 14 and 12, both of whom went to boarding school. Caroline, his ex-wife, worked for the Foreign Office, but it had not made her more tolerant of Lester’s own career path and they had gradually grown apart. He had accepted it but had not wanted the marriage to end. She, however, had met someone else and had wanted a clean break. Or as clean a break as was possible with children involved.
Lester saw his children frequently and would have them to stay in the holidays, but even he had to admit that the demands of his current job were not conducive to family arrangements. More than once Nick had listened to Lester on the phone apologising for failure to meet his obligations and it didn’t take a mind-reader to know how the civil servant felt on those occasions. The pained look on his face said it all.
On days like that, it made Nick thankful that he and Helen had never had children.
* * * * *
It took nearly two months for Nick’s house to be returned to a habitable state but eventually it was ready for him to move his belongings back into. The return coincided with a cessation of anomaly-related activities and in the space of a long weekend Nick was able reoccupy the house and start to turn it back into a home again.
Two days later, he had to face the fact that he missed Lester’s company.
* * * * *
Nick decided to take a leaf out of James Lester’s book. Arriving at work early on a Thursday morning, he scribbled a note which said: Dinner, my house, Friday night.
He was treated to a smile and a nod in the morning meeting.
Nick knew he wasn’t much of a cook, but he also knew what Lester liked, which made life easier. To his amazement, the ADD didn’t ruin his plans and he was home by 6.30pm. A quick shower and a change of clothes left him plenty of time to make the preparations and by 7.30, when Lester arrived, as punctual as ever, all Nick had to do was pour two gin and tonics and add slices of lime.
They retired to the living room and fell into their usual routine of swopping stories of the day’s events. Nick had been engaged most of the day on readying a paper for publication, being careful to ensure that nothing he said breached the Official Secrets Act, while Lester had spent the afternoon in a budget meeting in the Home Office. Lester appeared reasonably certain that he had emerged victorious on all counts, which both men agreed merited a second large gin.
Half an hour later, they were enjoying smoked salmon and champagne and Lester seemed as relaxed as Nick had ever seen him. Shortly afterwards, Nick served a main meal consisting of Dover sole, new potatoes and salad, all of which was eaten with relish.
“I didn’t know you could cook, Cutter,” said Lester, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “Next time you render yourself homeless, I’ll give you the run of the kitchen as well.”
“You’ve just eaten my entire repertoire,” grinned Nick, carefully concealing the fact that he’d cooked Dover sole for most of the week, until he was certain he could manage it properly.
They finished off with a cheeseboard courtesy of Nick’s local delicatessen, which he knew Lester preferred to dessert, and retired again to the living room for coffee and brandies.
While Nick tidied away their plates, Lester entertained himself by browsing through Nick’s book collection then he surprised Nick by joining him on the settee, rather than choosing one of the armchairs. Nick’s stomach fluttered slightly and he realised with a start that he hadn’t felt a sensation like that since he’d first asked Helen back to his flat, a month after he’d met her.
With something approaching shyness, Nick settled back into the corner of the settee and crossed one ankle comfortably over his knee, carefully avoiding meeting Lester’s eyes.
An amused chuckle put paid to his avoidance tactics.
Lester deposited his glass on the coffee table, whisked Nick’s out of his fingers and set it down next to it, saying, “Cutter, we’ve danced around each other like a couple of virgins on a first date for long enough.”
Nick’s eyes shot wide open and he groped for words. He was still trying to find his brain again when Lester’s lips closed lightly over his and a tongue which tasted pleasantly of brandy slipped into his mouth. Nick allowed Lester to deepen the kiss. A hand slipped around the back of his neck and then they were kissing properly, but unlike kisses with Helen, it didn’t turn into a battle for dominance, but remained a kiss between equals.
When Lester finally drew back, it was Nick’s turn to chuckle. “If I’d known the way to your heart was through your stomach, I would have offered to cook weeks ago.”
A slight smile quirked Lester’s lips. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to send you a memo. You can be remarkably oblivious, Cutter, you do know that, don’t you?”
Nick grinned. “Aye, it has been mentioned. I suppose there might be some truth in it.”
Lester snorted and ran the tips of his fingers lightly across the back of Nick’s hand. “I believe the prevalent opinion in the office is that we’ve been at it like rabbits for the past month.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “And I’m the last one to know, I suppose?”
His companion nodded and followed it up with another kiss.
Their progress towards the bedroom was unhurried but they arrived there eventually, still kissing. Clothes were shed in an equally unhurried manner and their hands started to explore each others bodies in a leisurely fashion, but the first touch of Lester’s hand on his cock made Nick gasp. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since a hand other than his own had touched him there.
Things became rather more urgent after that. Nick hadn’t been with a man since a certain amount of experimentation in his student days and he’d forgotten just how good the rasp of stubble felt against his skin. There was nothing in the hard, lean planes of James Lester’s body to remind him of Helen and Nick soon lost himself in a world of warmth and touch, giving and receiving pleasure in equal measure.
He reached his first climax of the night in Lester’s mouth, hands gripping the other man’s shoulders tightly enough to bruise, but he received no complaints. At some point, Lester produced a packet of condoms and a tube of lubricant from his discarded clothing and quirked one eyebrow questioningly at Nick.
Nick took the foil packet from Lester and ripped it open with his teeth. His companion’s hard cock jutted out from the tangle of dark hair at his groin. Nick leaned down and ran his tongue over the head, savouring the salty tang. He was rewarded by a groan. He sucked Lester’s cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it experimentally. This wasn’t something he had any practice at, but he had no aversion to trying.
“I’m not going to last long like this, Cutter,” said Lester in a surprisingly conversational tone of voice. “You’d better decide what you want. I think I might be somewhat beyond the stage of managing to get it up twice a night.”
Nick grinned around his mouthful but drew back anyway. He already knew what he wanted.
Slowly, he rolled the condom down Lester’s hard length then settled himself onto his stomach, his head pillowed on one arm. Lester pressed a light kiss between Nick’s shoulder blades then started to massage his back, working steadily down until his hands finally came to rest on Nick’s buttocks. Gently, Lester spread the cheeks of his arse and ran a tongue lightly over Nick’s hole.
Christ, that was a new one on him and for a moment Nick stiffened in embarrassment, unsure how to react.
“Relax,” Lester breathed, and licked a long, wet stripe up Nick’s body before returning to lap insistently at his hole.
Nick took a deep breath and did as he was told. It felt good, so bloody good, but he needed more now. He wanted Lester inside him.
He felt a cool, slick finger replace Lester’s tongue and press lightly against the entrance to his body. He pushed back against the intrusion and the finger slipped into him easily. Nick’s face flushed with embarrassment and he felt himself tense up against it.
Lester’s other hand rubbed small circles on his back and an amused voice said, “I thought I told you to relax?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder with a wry smile. “I thought I was doing quite well considering the last time I did anything like this was at university.”
“Well, they do say that university broadens the mind,” said Lester, slipping a second finger into Nick’s body and stroking gently in and out.
The fingers crooked slightly and Nick felt a jolt of pleasure through his body. “What the hell was that?” he gasped.
“Your prostate, Professor Cutter. Do I take it university didn’t extend your education quite that far?”
It was Nick’s turn to chuckle. “Lester, the other bloke was reading history, not biology and we were both 19. We were also drunk. If you must know, it felt like taking a crap in reverse. He fired after three strokes, which was fortunate, really.”
Lester’s laugh was low and throaty and he continued the slow, exquisite drift of his fingers. “Ah, the joys of student life,” he murmured, gently slipping a third finger into Nick’s increasingly relaxed body and continuing to massage his prostate.
Nick squirmed with pleasure and realised with surprise that he was getting hard again. He couldn’t remember when anything had last felt this good. He was over the embarrassment of such intimate contact and was definitely enjoying this. Lester seemed to be determined to stretch him as much as possible before replacing his fingers with his cock, but eventually he nudged Nick’s legs apart and settled between them, his weight on one elbow while his other hand guided his cock to Nick’s entrance.
The penetration was slow and gentle. Lester allowed him to adjust to the sensation of being stretched and filled before setting up an equally gentle rhythm which gradually became harder and deeper. Nick groaned with pleasure, sweat breaking out on his body. He hadn’t realised it could feel like this. He pushed back, meeting Lester’s thrusts enthusiastically.
Strong arms slid under Nick’s body, tugging him to his knees on the bed while Lester changed the angle of his thrusts so that each stroke was raking his prostate, sending sparks through his body to dance along his spine. He was panting now, head thrown back, eyes closed then Lester’s long fingers grasped his cock and started to stroke him in time with each thrust into his body.
Nick cried out, his body tightening around Lester’s cock as he hit his second climax of the night, come spurting onto the sheets below him. Lester groaned and lost his rhythm, thrusting raggedly into Nick’s body at the same time as pressing hot, wet kisses onto his back. Nick felt his lover stiffen and groan, pushing hard up against him, holding Nick tight as though he never wanted to let go.
They subsided gracelessly into a heap on the bed, laughing and panting, all reserve finally swept away. Lester gentled him through the final tremors of an orgasm made more intense by the fact that for once, he hadn’t been the instigator of his own climax.
Nick twisted in his lover’s arms, seeking out his mouth for a breathless kiss.
Lester lay on his back, panting, one arm looped around Nick’s waist, his eyes closed and his face open and vulnerable in a way that Nick had never seen before.
He leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Lester’s lips. “Thank you, James,” he murmured. “I rather think you’re better at this than I am.”
“Practice makes perfect,” said Lester with a lazy, contented smile. “Rather like cooking, and the results are equally as satisfying. Dare I hope that this might become a regular occurrence, Nick?”
Nick smiled down at him. “I think that could be arranged. There’s another four Dover soles in the fridge, just in case I mucked the first lot up.”
Feeling sated, and happier than he could remember in years, Nick disposed of the condom, cleaned then both up, then snuggled down again under the duvet, his head resting on Lester’s shoulder.
He had no idea what the future held, for either of them, but for the first time Nick allowed himself to hope that he might not have to face it alone.
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*Sighs happily*
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Their relationship developed gradually and typically the office grapevine was more ahead.
Nick practicing cooking the whole week so he got it perfect for his dinner with Lester was so adorable.
I loved how Lester took finally charge whilst Nick was still a little clueless.
Thank you for writing that for me.*hugs*
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I'm glad you liked it. I know the ITV biogs say he likes cooking, but I'm not sure a see him like that, and the idea of him eating the same thing for a week while he got it right, and having spares in the fridge seemed rather in character.
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Thanks for reading and commenting :)
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lol at Nick finally managing to learn some tact and for cooking Dover sole for most of the week.
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I loved how they just gradually got closer to one another, despite everyone thinking they'd been at it for weeks!
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Best. Come on. EVER. haha
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And I hope Nick never stops being oblivious because I love him like that! *g*
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The pacing of this fic is also good. A relationship outside of work slowly develops, with Lester and Nick learning more and more personal details about each other and gaining a stronger level of trust. And it's so sweet that Nick spent a week learning how to make that one dish in order to impress Lester, especially when Lester rewards him by taking matters into his own hands (once again) and kissing him.
I could say lots more, but I'm running out of time. Suffice it to say, this story will definitely be added to my hard drive collection! :-)
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I think loads of us enjoyed
Unless I'm writing pure (or not so pure) PWP, I do like to try for a slow, believable build-up, but I always worry that slow will = boring, if I'm not careful, so it's always nice to know that something has worked.
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I can't believe it took me this long to get here :) What a wonderful story! LOL to the Dover Sole. It must have cost him a bloody fortune!
“Lester, the other bloke was reading history, not biology
*LMAO*
Wonderfully sweet and hot and delightful!
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Two actual adults, learning about each other, and growing closer; fantastic.
The buildup was perfectly paced, and the sex was hawt, hawt, hawt!
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