Fic, Up Against It, Becker/Stephen, 15
May. 17th, 2013 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Up Against It
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Stephen
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : In which Stephen is reckless and Becker is annoyed.
A/N : Written for the very lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cordeliadelayne’s birthday, but posted late thanks to that damned goat! I hope you had a very lovely day, sweetie!
“You’ve been undermining me all fucking day!” Becker managed to keep his voice low, but it was an effort. He knew he was perilously close to committing the cardinal sin of losing his temper in the field and he was also fast reaching the point where he really didn’t care.
Stephen Hart had only been back on the team a week, but had already managed to rile the hell out of Becker. Despite what had happened to him, Hart clearly hadn’t learned caution. He still went out on a limb at the slightest provocation, going off on his own, ignoring orders, seemingly oblivious to his own safety, even though the scars on his body must have been a constant reminder of how dangerous the creatures they dealt with on an almost daily basis could be.
“You take things too personally,” Hart retorted, his long-lashed blue eyes amused and challenging.
“It’s my job to keep you and the other civilians safe, and you are not fucking helping!”
“I found that pack of deinonychus before they made a meal of a bunch of schoolkids. What part of that was unhelpful?”
“The part where you impersonated the Lone Ranger and buggered off without telling anyone where you were going!”
“Your men should have followed me.” Hart’s voice was deceptively mild but Becker wasn’t taken in. He knew perfectly well when someone was jerking his chain.
“My men were getting panicked civilians to safety.”
“Your men were posing around in black uniforms waving large penis substitutes and trying to look sexy. Where the hell did Lester dredge this lot up from? They’ve got no more than one brain cell between the lot of them and some clown clearly left it in the locker room today.”
Becker ground his teeth in frustration, biting back the observation that it wasn’t his fault the sainted Captain Ryan and his men had been hauled off at a moment’s notice to somewhere considerably above Hart’s security clearance but probably not a million miles away from Helmand Province. As a result, Becker had been left with what was euphemistically known in the trade as Private Military Contractors. It was even more unfortunate that some idiot in the Home Office had awarded the PMC contract to a mate of his from the old boy network with a weak chin, a limp handshake and an Eton accent who’d fielded a bunch of idiots that had failed selection for every elite unit in the country.
Hart was right, they were fucking useless and not even Becker’s best efforts over the last few weeks had managed to whip them into any sort of shape.
“You are not fucking helping, Hart!” he repeated.
“Did you miss the part where I took down six raptors with a lacrosse stick?”
He hadn’t. He’d arrived just in time to see the last raptor being neatly batted into a net, but Becker was in no mood to congratulate Hart on his fucking accuracy. He drew in a breath to reply and was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’d moved so far into Hart’s personal space that they were almost touching. Becker was even more aware of the fact that he had a raging hard-on.
Hart was leaning against a tree, his hips canted outwards slightly so that their cocks were almost touching. “You need to learn to relax, soldier boy. You’ll end up with an ulcer at this rate.”
“You need to learn to follow orders,” Becker countered. “And don’t call me…”
“…soldier boy,” Hart finished for him, pushing his hips out a fraction more so that the material of their trousers was definitely in contact, making it was patently obvious that Becker wasn’t the only one with a stiffy. “Lighten up.”
Unable to help himself, Becker pushed forward with his hips, feeling Hart’s hard cock against his through the inconvenient barrier of their trousers, black in Becker’s case and a hideous brownish-orange in Hart’s case; a colour that had absolutely no right to look that good on anyone. Hart’s grin widened and he slowly rotated his lean hips, rubbing himself against Becker in a way that would have done credit to a lap dancer.
Becker did a quick mental inventory of where his men and the rest of the civilian team were, and what they were meant to be doing, before scattering professionalism to the four winds and grinding his own cock against Hart’s in a way that brought a rather gratifying gasp in return. They were both high as kites from a heady mixture of endorphins and adrenaline flooding their system and every push of cock against cock sent a jolt of pure pleasure though his combat-heightened senses. He shoved his hands against the rough bark of the tree on either side of Hart’s head and concentrated on getting himself off as fast as humanly possible before one of the Keystone Cops arrived to put a damper on proceedings. Sod professional behaviour.
The hard press of the metal zip against over-sensitive flesh was almost too much to bear, but Becker was too across the line to care. His breath was now coming in sharp pants, as was Hart’s. He could smell the sharp tang of Hart’s sweat from his mad dash to the playing fields and see the damp patches under the arms of his grey teeshirt. Hart’s startlingly blue eyes were now dark with desire and he was pushing back against Becker, rotating his hips and maintaining the pressure. Abruptly, warmth rushed to Becker’s cock and he came with a sharp gasp.
Hart’s long-fingered hands gripped Becker’s hips, refusing to let him pull away as his companion ruthlessly chased his own climax. The friction on Becker’s still-pulsing cock was almost painful as post-orgasmic shocks chased up his spine. A second later, Hart’s head fell back against the tree, his eyes closed and his face losing its challenging look as he finally surrendered to pleasure.
With his heart hammering in his chest, Becker slumped forward, taking his weight on his elbows as he buried his face against Hart’s shoulder and tried to bring his breathing back under control. When he’d lost the slight tremor in his thighs, Becker stood upright, conscious of the damp feeling in his pants. After a quick check to ensure that their antics had gone unnoticed, Becker pressed a light kiss to his lover’s lips.
“Christ on a bike, Stephen, don’t bloody well scare me like that again, OK?”
“I promise to behave myself for the rest of the week,” Stephen said solemnly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“As it’s Thursday, that’s not much of a concession,” Becker muttered. “Come on, sunshine, we need to finish here and get back to base. The pair of us stink like a Greek wrestler’s jock-strap.”
“Speak for yourself.” Stephen ran his hands through Becker’s hair, smoothing it back into place. “There you go, you’re fit to be seen again. Let’s just hope we don’t develop any suspicious stains on the way back.”
As they walked back towards the trucks, Becker was certain he saw money changing hands between Abby and Connor.
It looked like they hadn’t been quite as discreet as they’d hoped.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Stephen
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : In which Stephen is reckless and Becker is annoyed.
A/N : Written for the very lovely
cordeliadelayne’s birthday, but posted late thanks to that damned goat! I hope you had a very lovely day, sweetie! “You’ve been undermining me all fucking day!” Becker managed to keep his voice low, but it was an effort. He knew he was perilously close to committing the cardinal sin of losing his temper in the field and he was also fast reaching the point where he really didn’t care.
Stephen Hart had only been back on the team a week, but had already managed to rile the hell out of Becker. Despite what had happened to him, Hart clearly hadn’t learned caution. He still went out on a limb at the slightest provocation, going off on his own, ignoring orders, seemingly oblivious to his own safety, even though the scars on his body must have been a constant reminder of how dangerous the creatures they dealt with on an almost daily basis could be.
“You take things too personally,” Hart retorted, his long-lashed blue eyes amused and challenging.
“It’s my job to keep you and the other civilians safe, and you are not fucking helping!”
“I found that pack of deinonychus before they made a meal of a bunch of schoolkids. What part of that was unhelpful?”
“The part where you impersonated the Lone Ranger and buggered off without telling anyone where you were going!”
“Your men should have followed me.” Hart’s voice was deceptively mild but Becker wasn’t taken in. He knew perfectly well when someone was jerking his chain.
“My men were getting panicked civilians to safety.”
“Your men were posing around in black uniforms waving large penis substitutes and trying to look sexy. Where the hell did Lester dredge this lot up from? They’ve got no more than one brain cell between the lot of them and some clown clearly left it in the locker room today.”
Becker ground his teeth in frustration, biting back the observation that it wasn’t his fault the sainted Captain Ryan and his men had been hauled off at a moment’s notice to somewhere considerably above Hart’s security clearance but probably not a million miles away from Helmand Province. As a result, Becker had been left with what was euphemistically known in the trade as Private Military Contractors. It was even more unfortunate that some idiot in the Home Office had awarded the PMC contract to a mate of his from the old boy network with a weak chin, a limp handshake and an Eton accent who’d fielded a bunch of idiots that had failed selection for every elite unit in the country.
Hart was right, they were fucking useless and not even Becker’s best efforts over the last few weeks had managed to whip them into any sort of shape.
“You are not fucking helping, Hart!” he repeated.
“Did you miss the part where I took down six raptors with a lacrosse stick?”
He hadn’t. He’d arrived just in time to see the last raptor being neatly batted into a net, but Becker was in no mood to congratulate Hart on his fucking accuracy. He drew in a breath to reply and was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’d moved so far into Hart’s personal space that they were almost touching. Becker was even more aware of the fact that he had a raging hard-on.
Hart was leaning against a tree, his hips canted outwards slightly so that their cocks were almost touching. “You need to learn to relax, soldier boy. You’ll end up with an ulcer at this rate.”
“You need to learn to follow orders,” Becker countered. “And don’t call me…”
“…soldier boy,” Hart finished for him, pushing his hips out a fraction more so that the material of their trousers was definitely in contact, making it was patently obvious that Becker wasn’t the only one with a stiffy. “Lighten up.”
Unable to help himself, Becker pushed forward with his hips, feeling Hart’s hard cock against his through the inconvenient barrier of their trousers, black in Becker’s case and a hideous brownish-orange in Hart’s case; a colour that had absolutely no right to look that good on anyone. Hart’s grin widened and he slowly rotated his lean hips, rubbing himself against Becker in a way that would have done credit to a lap dancer.
Becker did a quick mental inventory of where his men and the rest of the civilian team were, and what they were meant to be doing, before scattering professionalism to the four winds and grinding his own cock against Hart’s in a way that brought a rather gratifying gasp in return. They were both high as kites from a heady mixture of endorphins and adrenaline flooding their system and every push of cock against cock sent a jolt of pure pleasure though his combat-heightened senses. He shoved his hands against the rough bark of the tree on either side of Hart’s head and concentrated on getting himself off as fast as humanly possible before one of the Keystone Cops arrived to put a damper on proceedings. Sod professional behaviour.
The hard press of the metal zip against over-sensitive flesh was almost too much to bear, but Becker was too across the line to care. His breath was now coming in sharp pants, as was Hart’s. He could smell the sharp tang of Hart’s sweat from his mad dash to the playing fields and see the damp patches under the arms of his grey teeshirt. Hart’s startlingly blue eyes were now dark with desire and he was pushing back against Becker, rotating his hips and maintaining the pressure. Abruptly, warmth rushed to Becker’s cock and he came with a sharp gasp.
Hart’s long-fingered hands gripped Becker’s hips, refusing to let him pull away as his companion ruthlessly chased his own climax. The friction on Becker’s still-pulsing cock was almost painful as post-orgasmic shocks chased up his spine. A second later, Hart’s head fell back against the tree, his eyes closed and his face losing its challenging look as he finally surrendered to pleasure.
With his heart hammering in his chest, Becker slumped forward, taking his weight on his elbows as he buried his face against Hart’s shoulder and tried to bring his breathing back under control. When he’d lost the slight tremor in his thighs, Becker stood upright, conscious of the damp feeling in his pants. After a quick check to ensure that their antics had gone unnoticed, Becker pressed a light kiss to his lover’s lips.
“Christ on a bike, Stephen, don’t bloody well scare me like that again, OK?”
“I promise to behave myself for the rest of the week,” Stephen said solemnly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“As it’s Thursday, that’s not much of a concession,” Becker muttered. “Come on, sunshine, we need to finish here and get back to base. The pair of us stink like a Greek wrestler’s jock-strap.”
“Speak for yourself.” Stephen ran his hands through Becker’s hair, smoothing it back into place. “There you go, you’re fit to be seen again. Let’s just hope we don’t develop any suspicious stains on the way back.”
As they walked back towards the trucks, Becker was certain he saw money changing hands between Abby and Connor.
It looked like they hadn’t been quite as discreet as they’d hoped.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:43 pm (UTC)Edited because I used the wrong icon!
no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 12:54 pm (UTC)Guh! The boys obviously had fun WITH their clothes on. Guh again.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 02:21 pm (UTC)And I laughed at the ending *g*.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 04:29 pm (UTC)Your men were posing around in black uniforms waving large penis substitutes and trying to look sexy
AND the rest of the paragraph. *giggle*
"Did you miss the part where I took down six raptors with a lacrosse stick?"
He’d arrived just in time to see the last raptor being neatly batted into a net
Okay, I actually LOLed on that one!
a hideous brownish-orange in Hart’s case; a colour that had absolutely no right to look that good on anyone.
Yay, the OCPs make an appearance!
And just GUH! for teh sex *wipes brow*, a delightful twist about their relationship, and *snicker* for Abby and Connor.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 05:05 pm (UTC)Yummy!
LOL At Stephen smoothing Becker's hair!
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-17 09:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-18 02:08 am (UTC)Stephen defeating the raptors with a lacrosse stick and in his favourite trousers is a priceless image!
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-18 08:18 am (UTC)“Did you miss the part where I took down six raptors with a lacrosse stick?”
LOL! I nearly died laughing, too :D
But then the hot got me *g*
*keels over*
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 07:43 am (UTC)The cargo pants! Stephen alive but kamikaze! Stephen playing lacrosse with raptors! Hot frottage with pretty boys! *applauds* *G*
no subject
Date: 2013-05-19 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-24 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-26 10:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-25 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-26 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-03 09:40 pm (UTC)(By the way it's just my ghost who is writing this. It's seems like the hotness of the fic is the cause of death!)
no subject
Date: 2013-07-04 02:07 pm (UTC)Ooops, sorry about the whole being dead thing.