fredbassett | Fic, The Lays of Ancient Rome, Part 1 of 2, Stephen/Ryan, Slash, 18

Title : The Lays of Ancient Rome, Part 1 of 2
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Stephen, Ryan
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None.
Summary : Involves sheep, shagging (there was a comma there, folks, so don’t get carried away!) and a game of Twenty Questions
Warning : Involves poetry. And the sex is at the beginning, which is unusual for me.
A/N : This was a weird, weird plot bunny which just wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d written it, so sorry, and all that. Normal service will resume as soon as this bizarre two-parter is out of my life (and yours)! It arose out a conversation many months ago with Rodlox and has been tormenting me ever since.
Tags : fic, slash, Stephen, Ryan

Somewhere on the South Downs

Stephen Hart was lying comfortably on his stomach on a hillside, propped up on his elbows, chewing idly on a grass-stalk and keeping a wary eye out for sheep-ticks.

Captain Ryan was lying next to him, sliding a well-lubricated finger slowly in and out of his lover’s arse and observing, with intense concentration, the effect it was having on Stephen’s breathing.

Every time the finger slid in, the other man’s breath caught, just a fraction, in the back of his throat, as though he wanted to moan, but kept holding it back.

It was during the quiet times like this that Ryan cursed Mrs Helen Bloody Cutter even more than usual for the fucked up mess she’d left behind her that masqueraded as one of her former students.

Hart was in his element when he was acting the slut. A role he played to perfection. In that guise he could relax, abandoning restraint in a way that Ryan usually found positively intoxicating. But it was during moments like this that Hart found it harder to just be himself, to let go of the bad habits his first serious lover had foisted onto him.

Be quiet. Don’t cuddle. Stop talking. No, not like that, like this. Don’t crowd me. Keep your distance.

Ryan let another drop of gun-oil drip down as he prepared to gently ease a second finger into place. Not that Hart needed gentleness.

He heard the slight catch in the other man’s breath again, but Hart still didn’t make any noise. He just carried on twirling the grass stalk in his fingers and staring intently at the bright shards of the anomaly hanging in the air at the head of the dry valley in front of them.

The soldier knew that all he needed to do get an instant reaction was increase the pace and add another finger or two, but that wasn’t what Ryan wanted right now. He wanted to be sure that he wasn’t just getting Hart’s usual well-honed pain/pleasure response.

They had tricks like that off pat. That wasn’t what they needed to work on.

There were times when Ryan wanted more than just a frantic shag. They had plenty of those, and he enjoyed them, but he liked the quiet times too. He wanted more of Hart’s soft kitten mewls.

His finger drifted slowly and lightly over what he knew was exactly the right spot. That drew more than a slight catch of breath. There was now a definite interruption in the previously steady inhale, exhale pattern of Hart’s breathing.

Another drop of oil and then the second finger finally slid in. Soft, gliding. In, out. Occasionally massaging and rubbing along the deep cleft, then back in, to delicious tightness and heat.

Stephen was naked from the waist down. The only reason he still had his shirt on was collective amnesia on the subject of sunscreen.

Ryan, by contrast, was fully dressed. His only concession to the heat had been unzipping the heavy tac vest and unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

He was steadily ignoring his own erection. They had two hours left before Lyle and Cutter were due back, there’d be time enough to deal with that later.

“Favourite colour?”

The question took Stephen by surprise and he looked back over one shoulder, blue eyes wide and questioning. “Eh?”

The fingers twisted slightly and converted the next breath into something closely resembling a hiccup.

“Don’t say eh, darling. It’s not polite. Didn’t they teach you any manners at school?”

“I don’t recall off-hand anything being said about the polite way to sound puzzled when a guy’s got two fingers up your ass stroking your prostate, no.” He sighed and decided to play along, “You’d better try that one on me again, Ryan.”

The fingers continued their inexorable glide, just a fraction harder, but still teasingly gentle. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Green. Dark green.”

Stephen was rewarded, briefly, with the intrusion of a third finger.

“Now ask me one.”

“One what?”

“A personal question, fuckwit, what do you think I meant?”

“You want to play Twenty Questions while you’re finger-fucking me?”

“Yes. My turn, now. Something you hated at school?”

“Oi, you cheated, it was my turn!”

“Shut up and stop glaring at me. Watch the pretty anomaly and answer the question.”

He scissored his fingers, stretching Stephen gently, and deepening the thrusts.

Hart’s head dipped for a moment onto the grass and it looked like he was having a slight problem concentrating. Ryan carried on probing and stretching, movements slow and languorous, listening to his lover’s breathing deepen with every stroke.

Stephen dragged in another breath, propped himself up on his elbows again, and replied, “School plays.”

Ryan’s chuckle ran all the way down through his arm and into his hand and made Stephen press up and back onto the strong fingers. Ryan’s hand stopped moving. His lover sighed and took the hint. No demanding. Just lie there and play the game.

“Don’t tell me you always had to play Prince Charming?” Ryan didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

“Yep, and Cinderella, otherwise known as Janey Bristow, had verruca’s. And her feet smelt. It was probably the ointment, but as a thirteen year old, I wasn’t for giving her the benefit of the doubt. OK, my turn ……….. something you like doing in bed that isn’t connected with sex?”

“Cheat. You know the answer to that.”

“You like drinking coffee there as well!”

“Yes, but you know I’ll go for a bacon butty every time. Ask again.”

By way of encouragement, Ryan increased the pace of his stroking just fractionally until he felt Stephen’s hips pressing down into the black combat jacket they were using for a blanket.

Ryan sighed. The damn thing had enough stains on it already. The words collateral damage came incongruously to mind.

Stephen interrupted his thoughts. “Your wedding. Church or Registry Office?”

It crossed Ryan’s mind that the question might be his lover’s way of bringing the game to an end. If so, Hart’d have to think again. Ryan wasn’t that easily deterred from his objectives.

He lent over and licked a long wet trail down the younger man’s lower back, ending up nuzzling and kissing the crease at the top of his thigh. It was a bit of a contortion to keep up the finger movement at the same time, but he succeeded.

“Church. And for your bonus answer, I was in uniform.” There, that surprised you, didn’t it? “My turn. First time you shagged a bloke. Where?”

Hart squirmed and Ryan didn’t think that it was as a result of his finger action on this occasion.

“In the bog, on a train, on the way to London.”

Now that did open possibilities for future conversation, but not just yet ……….. not while Stephen Hart was still talking and even more surprisingly, still enjoying himself without even registering a 1 on the pain scale.

That answer clearly merited reward, so, slowly and lazily, Ryan withdrew his fingers, and dribbled more warm gun-oil where it was needed. He lazily shifted position over Stephen, taking his weight on his arms and sliding himself very, very slowly inside his lover, inch by gentle, insistent inch.

Two hundred press-ups a day made this sort of thing a doddle for Ryan, a fact the soldier liked to take advantage of as often as he could, although it really was taking every bit of his concentration right now to stay gentle, to keep it slow ……..

Stephen let out a long moan of pure pleasure and Ryan found it even harder to keep to the same pace. The little sod was trying to provoke him. And was damn nearly succeeding.

“Come on, it’s your turn.” He needed a distraction and he needed it quickly ……….

Hart’s next question provided exactly that. “First line of a poem you really hate?”

That worked ………. and took him straight back to English classes at school.

“I wandered lonely as a cloud ………. always thought that was fucking pretentious crap. Why the hell would a cloud be lonely? It’s only sodding water vapour.”

Stephen started laughing and the movement threatened to destroy Ryan’s composure.

“Oh Christ, I can just see you in school debating the merits of Wordsworth ……..”

It was no good, he wasn’t going to be able to keep this slow for much longer, not with Hart’s laughter still causing his ass muscles to clench deliciously around Ryan’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight through his brain.

Then the laughter came to an abrupt halt as Ryan altered his angle and started to unerringly stoke the same spot each time he moved.

Still gentle, still so bloody gentle, but suddenly Stephen felt like he was coming apart at the seams and it was so good that all he could do was let himself sink down fully onto the grass and just lie there letting Ryan fuck him.

Fuck him more slowly and more gently than he’d ever been fucked by anyone, and for once, Stephen never wanted it to end. He didn’t need a climax to make him feel good, this was enough just by itself. And he wanted it to go on forever …….

Ryan knew he’d finally succeeded in breaking down his lover’s barriers when Hart started making those small noises again, the ones Ryan knew had been made first for him and for him alone.

Noises that made his own insides shimmer into a golden haze of pleasure ………. noises that he longed to be able to draw out of the other man whenever he wanted, without having to hurt him. The way he’d done the first time they’d made love. The way he was doing now.

And he didn’t even try to squirm against Ryan’s tac-vest the way he usually did. He just led there, boneless and quivering, making very small, very quiet, hiccupping noises, like a whole basketful of kittens just after they’d been fed.

Ryan was concentrating so much on his blue-eyed lover that he almost forgot about himself until the final tremors running through Stephen’s body tipped him over the edge. His hips gave an involuntary jerk and then he came as well, with a quiet gasp, his mouth buried in the other man’s short black hair, his breath warm on his neck.

When the final tremors had died away from both of them, Ryan slid sideways, pillowing his head on one outstretched arm and running his other hand lazily up and down Hart’s side, from hip to chest, enjoying the feel of sun-warmed skin under his fingers.

Stephen shuffled backwards, pressing himself lightly against his lover, eyes closed, face flushed from the combined effects of sun and sex, comfortable and relaxed.

He was hovering on the edge of sleep when Ryan said, “Hart, what sort of sheep did they have in the Carboniferous or whenever?”

“No sheep,” muttered Stephen, lazily. “Don’t you ever listen to Connor?”

“Not if I can help it,” muttered Ryan, unfairly and untruthfully. “So if they didn’t have sheep in the whenever, why the fuck has one just wandered out of that anomaly?”

“We’re on a hillside covered with the bloody things.” Stephen pointed out, rolling over and starting to nuzzle his lover’s neck.

Ryan sighed. “I know I’ve said it before, Hart, but it’s true. You really are an unobservant little shit, especially when you’re thinking with your dick. The only sheep we’ve seen since we left the van were in the fields by the road. And they were white and sheep-like. This one’s brown and goat-like.”

“So it’s a goat. They didn’t have those in the Carboniferous either. But they do have ‘em in Southern England. OK?”

A sharp slap on his arse woke him up.

“Not OK. There’s another one. In fact there’s a whole fucking herd of the little bleeders. Clean up and get dressed …….”

Stephen opened his eyes in irritation, but his complaint died on his lips.

Ryan was right.

There were sheep, and they were coming through the anomaly. Not round it, or past it, but through it.

They had horns, as well.

They were also remarkably reluctant to go back through the anomaly.

And they were very good at using their horns when they didn’t want to do something.

They were the sort of horns that could do a considerable amount of damage. After the third near miss with his groin, Stephen started taking the stubborn little sods a bit more seriously.

It was hot, and getting hotter and they still had three of the horned bastards to herd back towards the anomaly.

He found himself contemplating the Monty Python line about the dangers of clever sheep, but somehow it didn’t strike him as funny any more.

Ten minutes later, the last one stood about three metres away from the broken shards of light, eying them with the sort of look that spoke volumes.

The sort of look which said, Come on, have a go if you think you’re hard enough!

“Bugger this for a lark,” muttered Ryan. “Can’t I just shoot it? Lamb chops are nice.”

Stephen was tempted, he really was, but he was damned if he was going to be outwitted by something that would taste extremely nice with mint sauce.

He also very much regretted the loss of his dart gun last week to an irate mammoth.

“No. Cutter’d throw a fit.”

“We don’t have to tell him.”

“Shut up and start herding!”

It took another ten minutes before Ryan finally lost his temper and rugby tackled the beast, damn nearly losing an eye to a horn in the process. Stephen lunged forward, grabbing its head before Ryan dealt with the problem with his customary efficiency and simply broke its neck.

Between them, they man-handled an extremely disgruntled ovine back though the anomaly and dropped it.

Dropped it onto short grass. Grass that wasn’t particularly different from the grass they’d just left behind them.

Ryan looked around and delivered an unarguable verdict. “It isn’t fucking Kansas, Toto.”

Current Mood: weird
Current Location: Next to a dog
Current Music: Boney M

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

rodlox.livejournal.com

I'm rather curious just what I said, that prompted that.
was it the bit about the pre-Cambrian bunny?

I liked parts of it - other parts tried to blind me. (one time when a 2-D monitor is a blessedly good thing)
:)

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Fic, The Lays of Ancient Rome, Part 1 of 2, Stephen/Ryan, Slash, 18

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