Fic, Battle Scars, Lester/Ryan, 18
Aug. 28th, 2013 02:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Battle Scars
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Ryan/Lester, Cutter, Leek.
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : After an anomaly incursion leaves several people dead, Lester tries to find a way of putting the day’s events out of Ryan’s mind.
A/N : This story is set in the alternate slave universe, Silk and Steel, which has been mostly co-authored conjunction with my Evil Twin,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
munchkinofdoom. This For those who have read the series, this takes place shortly after the siege arc. For those who haven’t, this can be read as a standalone. This has also been written for the slave fic square on my Trope Bingo card.
It had been the shit day to end all shit days.
Four civilians dead. Two of them children.
Ryan wanted a shower. Wanted to stand under scalding hot water and scrub himself clean of the mud, blood and guts that seemed to be the defining feature of this fucking awful job. What he didn’t want to do was go into a debrief with Lester, Leek and Cutter, and have every one of the day’s decisions pulled apart at the seams.
There was a simple way of summing it all up.
Not. Enough. Men.
As field commander, he had to make choices. Hard choices. If the dice rolled your way, things were fine. If they didn’t, people died. He had to prioritise resources, which was just a fancy way of saying he had to make split second decisions and hope he was doing the right thing. On this occasion he’d probably got it wrong, but even with hindsight it was hard to see what he could have done differently that would actually have made any bloody difference.
He tried to lock the negative thoughts away in a box in his mind and drew in a deep, steadying breath than knocked on the door of Lester’s office and waited for the usual abrupt summons to enter.
As ever, Lester’s face gave nothing away. He was sitting behind his immaculate desk looking like he was doing his best to ignore Cutter pacing the room like a man with a raptor on his tail. Leek simply stared in Ryan’s direction with barely concealed distaste, as ever.
Ryan saluted, then sank to his knees, head bowed.
“Seven dead,” said Lester.
Ryan’s head jerked up, his eyes widening in shock.
“They couldn’t save the baby,” Cutter said quickly. “It wasn’t your fault, man. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“Isn’t that what we’re here to determine, Professor?” asked Leek, steepling his fingers under his chin in a way that he’d obviously seen Lester do in meetings.
“No, Leek, we’re here to obtain enough detail to enable you to put a positive slant on all this so far as the PM’s office is concerned,” Lester declared in a voice that Leek would be very ill-advised to argue with. Lester stared hard at Ryan and demanded, “Your report, Captain.”
* * *
Four hours later, Lester was prowling feeling tense and on edge. The report had been delivered to Downing Street, and even he had to admit that Leek had done a good job with it, but no matter how hard they spun everything, seven civilian deaths wouldn’t be well-received in the corridors of power. It hadn’t been Ryan’s fault, hell fire, it hadn’t been anyone’s fault, but coming hard on the heels of the attack on the ARC, with all the attendant furore that had caused, any perceived failure still made Lester uneasy and he was already anticipating another summons from the PM’s office.
Lester wasn’t prone to work-related anxiety, but even he had to admit that his current situation could hardly be described as career-enhancing, and months of sustained stress were starting to take their toll in some rather unexpected, also decidedly unwelcome, ways. Ryan was lying face down on the bed, arms and legs spread, secured tightly to a decorative, but sturdy bed frame. Lester looked down him as stress coiled and turned in his stomach like a snake in a bag. He knew what Ryan wanted – correction, he knew what Ryan needed – but right now, he had a nasty suspicion that he wasn’t going to be able to deliver the goods.
It wasn’t the first time recently that the sight of the Special Forces captain, naked apart from the steel collar, had failed to get him hard. The fact that Ryan also knew it, but had naturally refrained from comment, only made matters worse.
Lester stopped pacing and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. He ran one hand up the back of Ryan’s leg and felt the soldier shiver under his touch. He knew that Ryan had somewhat ambivalent feelings about being restrained like this. There were times when he knew the soldier was eager for it, there were other times – today included – when he appeared more reluctant.
But Ryan’s likes and dislikes didn’t matter a flying fuck. The soldier wore a collar and that meant he didn’t get a choice in the matter. Lester reached out and ran his fingers down Ryan’s back, feeling the ridged scars from old whippings that criss-crossed his skin. The Director of Special Forces had been reluctant to supply the captain’s full file and Lester was certain that a good deal of information had been redacted, but he’d seen enough to know that there had been times when the usually impeccably-behaved captain had been somewhat less than perfect when it came to obedience.
Ryan had Indentured himself to get enough money to fight his soon-to-be ex-wife for the right to keep contact with his daughter. But his hopes had been dashed on the immoveable rocks of the old boy network. Ryan’s former father-in-law had believed his daughter had marred beneath herself and he’d been only too happy to call on a friend in the judiciary to ensure that the soldier’s plea for access had been summarily dismissed. The small matter perjury was clearly less of a blot on the family honour than the marriage had been.
After that, the newly-collared young soldier had gone rather spectacularly off the rails, undaunted by floggings or any other physical punishment. If it hadn’t been for a commanding officer who had sensed Ryan’s potential and sent him Selection for Special Forces, he might have ended up lashed to a punishment frame, bleeding out at the end of a whip, with no hope of reprieve.
Lester ran the tips of his fingers down over one long weal that curved around the taut skin of Ryan’s hips, feeling the soldier press back against his touch. Lester insinuated his hand underneath Ryan’s body, talking hold of his half-hard cock and squeezing.
A low moan escaped Ryan’s lips and Lester smiled. Ryan canted his hips and tried to thrust into Lester’s hand, seeking more friction.
“Patience is a virtue, Captain,” Lester murmured.
Ryan muttered something into the pillow that sounded suspiciously like, “Fuck patience.”
Lester withdrew his hand, leaving Ryan’s rapidly-filling cock trapped between his stomach and the silk sheets of the bed. He went back to his examination of Ryan’s scars, tracing first one, then another first with his fingers and next with his nails, watching as faint red lines over-laid the white tracery of scars, scoring slightly harder with each pass, digging into Ryan’s flesh. He wondered what it would be like to take the combat knife out of the sheath attached to the webbing ring of Ryan’s thigh straps and use its tip to gouge thin, bloody furrows along the line of the old whip marks, but too much blood had already been spilt earlier that day. Instead he pressed down harder, marking the passage of his nails over the soldier’s skin.
Ryan’s breathing was coming faster now, betraying his arousal and Lester could sense that the soldier was starting to leave behind the pressures of the day, simply sinking into a place without thought, where all that mattered was sensation. Ryan had showered before coming to Lester’s room and the smell of citrus soap was now mingled with the sharp smell of sweat as Ryan strained against the strips of silk that bound him by his wrists and ankles to the bed, doing his best to get some friction against his cock.
“Did I tell you it was acceptable for you to seek your own release, Ryan?” Lester said softly, circling a puckered scar on the soldier’s waist that he knew was the legacy of a bullet.
Ryan drew in a shaky breath. “No, master.”
With what was clearly an effort Ryan let himself go limp in his bonds, doing his best not to react to the light touch of Lester’s nails on his clearly oversensitive skin. Lester continued to seek out Ryan’s scars, paying attention to each and every one that he could find. In the course of his exploration, he discovered that Ryan found it particularly hard to stay still whilst being touched behind his knees. There was a very faint weal on the back of Ryan’s left knee that looked suspiciously like he’d come close to being hamstrung at some point. Lester ran his fingertips over the scar a second time and the touch was met by a shiver through Ryan’s body.
“Ticklish, Ryan?” Lester enquired solicitously.
“Yes, master.”
In response to that admission, Lester followed up the light touch with a scrape from his fingernails that had Ryan straining at the silk ties again.
Lester smiled. Ryan really did look most enticing spread-eagled on the bed, black silk wound around each wrist and ankle, wearing nothing more than a polished, stainless steel collar. Curious as to what effect it would have, Lester bent his head to the back of Ryan’s knee, licked a long stripe over the faint scar and then blew on it.
Ryan groaned and Lester could now smell the musk of his arousal. Just for badness, he did it again, feeling the tremors that he had set off in Ryan’s muscles. His smile broadened and Lester started to do the same thing to other scars. Licking a long, wet stripe with his tongue, tasting the salt of Ryan’s sweat, and then blowing softly over the tracery he’d left on the soldier’s skin.
Slowly, teasingly, he made his way back up Ryan’s body to his shoulders. A steel-tipped whip had gouged bloody furrows across his shoulders, leaving behind an indelible reminder of past transgressions. The army was an unforgiving master, but it was clear that none of the whip marks were recent, unlike some of the other scars the captain bore. Since earning his place in Special Forces, Ryan had worn both his collar and his uniform with pride, and whilst he had never forgiven his former wife for denying him all access to their child, he did at least appear to have come to terms with his Indenture.
Lester ran one finger around the edge of the burnished collar, feeling the warmth of the metal from the close contact with Ryan’s skin. Like all long-term slaves, Ryan’s neck bore a faint callus from where the collar had occasionally chafed under his uniform. Ryan tensed at the touch of Lester’s fingers on the collar and it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to pull away. Lester slipped his fingers into the collar and he’d it tight against Ryan’s windpipe.
“I think it would be advisable to relax, Captain,” Lester said quietly, using his free hand to continue his previous activity.
With the pressure on Ryan’s throat, Lester didn’t expect a verbal answer, nor did he get one, but to his surprise, Ryan did manage to relax the tension in his muscles, going limp under Lester’s not-so-tender ministrations, even though his cock must by then have been almost painfully hard.
Lester bent his head again and nipped lightly at Ryan’s earlobe.
“For someone who doubtless knows more ways of killing me that I can possibly imagine, Ryan,” Lester said, punctuating his sentence with light licks over the small hollow behind Ryan’s earlobe, “I have to say that you do submit quite delightfully. It’s a close run thing whether I prefer you like this or on your knees sucking my cock…”
* * * * *
Ryan did his best to remain limp, letting Lester’s words wash over, sending him deeper into that space in his mind where the events of the day no longer held sway over him. Instead of the terrified cries of men, women and children, all he could hear was the soft murmur of Lester’s voice, giving him orders, holding the power of life and death over him, and for all Ryan’s abilities, he knew that unless Lester cared to release him, he would have great difficulty getting lose. The silk was tight around his wrists and ankles. Not tight enough to impede the blood flow, but almost impossible to break without inflicting a great deal of damage to himself. He’d discovered quite early on in his time at the ARC that Lester knew how to tie knots.
With his cock hard and hot against his stomach, resisting the urge to squirm against the silk sheets was taking all Ryan’s rapidly diminishing powers of concentration and control and the gentle touch of Lester’s tongue on one of his most sensitive spots had very nearly been his undoing.
“Can you come like this, Ryan?” Lester asked, his voice almost conversational, at total odds to the havoc his hands and mouth were wreaking on Ryan’s body.
Ryan stiffened, unable to help his reaction, and felt Lester’s knuckles press into the back of his neck as the metal collar bit harder into Ryan’s windpipe. It wasn’t the first time Lester had restricted his airflow like this and Ryan knew exactly how hard he would end up coming if this carried on – provided of course that he didn’t lose consciousness first.
His senses were starting to blur now, pain and pleasure dancing so closely together that Ryan no longer knew the distinction between the two. He was having trouble drawing air into his lungs and heat was starting to flow into his abdomen, pooling in his cock and balls.
As darkness drew inexorably closer, Lester murmured directly into his ear, “You have my permission to move if you can, Captain.”
Calling on a reserve of strength that surprised even him, Ryan managed to thrust his hips against the bed, sliding his leaking cock over the sheet. It was enough. Pleasure exploded inside him with the force of a roadside bomb. His body stiffened against his bonds and the metal of his collar bit hard into his neck. His climax sent white hot sparks through his nerve endings, setting his body on fire and cauterising the day from his brain.
As he slid into welcoming darkness, Ryan was dimply aware of Lester releasing his bindings and spooning against him, holding Ryan as the final tremors of an intense orgasm wracked his body.
* * * * *
“Go to sleep, Ryan,” Lester said, pulling the light duvet over them.
He was pressed up against Ryan’s sweat-slicked back, his still-limp cock pressed against the soldier’s arse.
It had been a shit of a day, but at least one of them would get some much-needed sleep that night.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Ryan/Lester, Cutter, Leek.
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : After an anomaly incursion leaves several people dead, Lester tries to find a way of putting the day’s events out of Ryan’s mind.
A/N : This story is set in the alternate slave universe, Silk and Steel, which has been mostly co-authored conjunction with my Evil Twin,
munchkinofdoom. This For those who have read the series, this takes place shortly after the siege arc. For those who haven’t, this can be read as a standalone. This has also been written for the slave fic square on my Trope Bingo card.It had been the shit day to end all shit days.
Four civilians dead. Two of them children.
Ryan wanted a shower. Wanted to stand under scalding hot water and scrub himself clean of the mud, blood and guts that seemed to be the defining feature of this fucking awful job. What he didn’t want to do was go into a debrief with Lester, Leek and Cutter, and have every one of the day’s decisions pulled apart at the seams.
There was a simple way of summing it all up.
Not. Enough. Men.
As field commander, he had to make choices. Hard choices. If the dice rolled your way, things were fine. If they didn’t, people died. He had to prioritise resources, which was just a fancy way of saying he had to make split second decisions and hope he was doing the right thing. On this occasion he’d probably got it wrong, but even with hindsight it was hard to see what he could have done differently that would actually have made any bloody difference.
He tried to lock the negative thoughts away in a box in his mind and drew in a deep, steadying breath than knocked on the door of Lester’s office and waited for the usual abrupt summons to enter.
As ever, Lester’s face gave nothing away. He was sitting behind his immaculate desk looking like he was doing his best to ignore Cutter pacing the room like a man with a raptor on his tail. Leek simply stared in Ryan’s direction with barely concealed distaste, as ever.
Ryan saluted, then sank to his knees, head bowed.
“Seven dead,” said Lester.
Ryan’s head jerked up, his eyes widening in shock.
“They couldn’t save the baby,” Cutter said quickly. “It wasn’t your fault, man. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“Isn’t that what we’re here to determine, Professor?” asked Leek, steepling his fingers under his chin in a way that he’d obviously seen Lester do in meetings.
“No, Leek, we’re here to obtain enough detail to enable you to put a positive slant on all this so far as the PM’s office is concerned,” Lester declared in a voice that Leek would be very ill-advised to argue with. Lester stared hard at Ryan and demanded, “Your report, Captain.”
* * *
Four hours later, Lester was prowling feeling tense and on edge. The report had been delivered to Downing Street, and even he had to admit that Leek had done a good job with it, but no matter how hard they spun everything, seven civilian deaths wouldn’t be well-received in the corridors of power. It hadn’t been Ryan’s fault, hell fire, it hadn’t been anyone’s fault, but coming hard on the heels of the attack on the ARC, with all the attendant furore that had caused, any perceived failure still made Lester uneasy and he was already anticipating another summons from the PM’s office.
Lester wasn’t prone to work-related anxiety, but even he had to admit that his current situation could hardly be described as career-enhancing, and months of sustained stress were starting to take their toll in some rather unexpected, also decidedly unwelcome, ways. Ryan was lying face down on the bed, arms and legs spread, secured tightly to a decorative, but sturdy bed frame. Lester looked down him as stress coiled and turned in his stomach like a snake in a bag. He knew what Ryan wanted – correction, he knew what Ryan needed – but right now, he had a nasty suspicion that he wasn’t going to be able to deliver the goods.
It wasn’t the first time recently that the sight of the Special Forces captain, naked apart from the steel collar, had failed to get him hard. The fact that Ryan also knew it, but had naturally refrained from comment, only made matters worse.
Lester stopped pacing and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. He ran one hand up the back of Ryan’s leg and felt the soldier shiver under his touch. He knew that Ryan had somewhat ambivalent feelings about being restrained like this. There were times when he knew the soldier was eager for it, there were other times – today included – when he appeared more reluctant.
But Ryan’s likes and dislikes didn’t matter a flying fuck. The soldier wore a collar and that meant he didn’t get a choice in the matter. Lester reached out and ran his fingers down Ryan’s back, feeling the ridged scars from old whippings that criss-crossed his skin. The Director of Special Forces had been reluctant to supply the captain’s full file and Lester was certain that a good deal of information had been redacted, but he’d seen enough to know that there had been times when the usually impeccably-behaved captain had been somewhat less than perfect when it came to obedience.
Ryan had Indentured himself to get enough money to fight his soon-to-be ex-wife for the right to keep contact with his daughter. But his hopes had been dashed on the immoveable rocks of the old boy network. Ryan’s former father-in-law had believed his daughter had marred beneath herself and he’d been only too happy to call on a friend in the judiciary to ensure that the soldier’s plea for access had been summarily dismissed. The small matter perjury was clearly less of a blot on the family honour than the marriage had been.
After that, the newly-collared young soldier had gone rather spectacularly off the rails, undaunted by floggings or any other physical punishment. If it hadn’t been for a commanding officer who had sensed Ryan’s potential and sent him Selection for Special Forces, he might have ended up lashed to a punishment frame, bleeding out at the end of a whip, with no hope of reprieve.
Lester ran the tips of his fingers down over one long weal that curved around the taut skin of Ryan’s hips, feeling the soldier press back against his touch. Lester insinuated his hand underneath Ryan’s body, talking hold of his half-hard cock and squeezing.
A low moan escaped Ryan’s lips and Lester smiled. Ryan canted his hips and tried to thrust into Lester’s hand, seeking more friction.
“Patience is a virtue, Captain,” Lester murmured.
Ryan muttered something into the pillow that sounded suspiciously like, “Fuck patience.”
Lester withdrew his hand, leaving Ryan’s rapidly-filling cock trapped between his stomach and the silk sheets of the bed. He went back to his examination of Ryan’s scars, tracing first one, then another first with his fingers and next with his nails, watching as faint red lines over-laid the white tracery of scars, scoring slightly harder with each pass, digging into Ryan’s flesh. He wondered what it would be like to take the combat knife out of the sheath attached to the webbing ring of Ryan’s thigh straps and use its tip to gouge thin, bloody furrows along the line of the old whip marks, but too much blood had already been spilt earlier that day. Instead he pressed down harder, marking the passage of his nails over the soldier’s skin.
Ryan’s breathing was coming faster now, betraying his arousal and Lester could sense that the soldier was starting to leave behind the pressures of the day, simply sinking into a place without thought, where all that mattered was sensation. Ryan had showered before coming to Lester’s room and the smell of citrus soap was now mingled with the sharp smell of sweat as Ryan strained against the strips of silk that bound him by his wrists and ankles to the bed, doing his best to get some friction against his cock.
“Did I tell you it was acceptable for you to seek your own release, Ryan?” Lester said softly, circling a puckered scar on the soldier’s waist that he knew was the legacy of a bullet.
Ryan drew in a shaky breath. “No, master.”
With what was clearly an effort Ryan let himself go limp in his bonds, doing his best not to react to the light touch of Lester’s nails on his clearly oversensitive skin. Lester continued to seek out Ryan’s scars, paying attention to each and every one that he could find. In the course of his exploration, he discovered that Ryan found it particularly hard to stay still whilst being touched behind his knees. There was a very faint weal on the back of Ryan’s left knee that looked suspiciously like he’d come close to being hamstrung at some point. Lester ran his fingertips over the scar a second time and the touch was met by a shiver through Ryan’s body.
“Ticklish, Ryan?” Lester enquired solicitously.
“Yes, master.”
In response to that admission, Lester followed up the light touch with a scrape from his fingernails that had Ryan straining at the silk ties again.
Lester smiled. Ryan really did look most enticing spread-eagled on the bed, black silk wound around each wrist and ankle, wearing nothing more than a polished, stainless steel collar. Curious as to what effect it would have, Lester bent his head to the back of Ryan’s knee, licked a long stripe over the faint scar and then blew on it.
Ryan groaned and Lester could now smell the musk of his arousal. Just for badness, he did it again, feeling the tremors that he had set off in Ryan’s muscles. His smile broadened and Lester started to do the same thing to other scars. Licking a long, wet stripe with his tongue, tasting the salt of Ryan’s sweat, and then blowing softly over the tracery he’d left on the soldier’s skin.
Slowly, teasingly, he made his way back up Ryan’s body to his shoulders. A steel-tipped whip had gouged bloody furrows across his shoulders, leaving behind an indelible reminder of past transgressions. The army was an unforgiving master, but it was clear that none of the whip marks were recent, unlike some of the other scars the captain bore. Since earning his place in Special Forces, Ryan had worn both his collar and his uniform with pride, and whilst he had never forgiven his former wife for denying him all access to their child, he did at least appear to have come to terms with his Indenture.
Lester ran one finger around the edge of the burnished collar, feeling the warmth of the metal from the close contact with Ryan’s skin. Like all long-term slaves, Ryan’s neck bore a faint callus from where the collar had occasionally chafed under his uniform. Ryan tensed at the touch of Lester’s fingers on the collar and it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to pull away. Lester slipped his fingers into the collar and he’d it tight against Ryan’s windpipe.
“I think it would be advisable to relax, Captain,” Lester said quietly, using his free hand to continue his previous activity.
With the pressure on Ryan’s throat, Lester didn’t expect a verbal answer, nor did he get one, but to his surprise, Ryan did manage to relax the tension in his muscles, going limp under Lester’s not-so-tender ministrations, even though his cock must by then have been almost painfully hard.
Lester bent his head again and nipped lightly at Ryan’s earlobe.
“For someone who doubtless knows more ways of killing me that I can possibly imagine, Ryan,” Lester said, punctuating his sentence with light licks over the small hollow behind Ryan’s earlobe, “I have to say that you do submit quite delightfully. It’s a close run thing whether I prefer you like this or on your knees sucking my cock…”
* * * * *
Ryan did his best to remain limp, letting Lester’s words wash over, sending him deeper into that space in his mind where the events of the day no longer held sway over him. Instead of the terrified cries of men, women and children, all he could hear was the soft murmur of Lester’s voice, giving him orders, holding the power of life and death over him, and for all Ryan’s abilities, he knew that unless Lester cared to release him, he would have great difficulty getting lose. The silk was tight around his wrists and ankles. Not tight enough to impede the blood flow, but almost impossible to break without inflicting a great deal of damage to himself. He’d discovered quite early on in his time at the ARC that Lester knew how to tie knots.
With his cock hard and hot against his stomach, resisting the urge to squirm against the silk sheets was taking all Ryan’s rapidly diminishing powers of concentration and control and the gentle touch of Lester’s tongue on one of his most sensitive spots had very nearly been his undoing.
“Can you come like this, Ryan?” Lester asked, his voice almost conversational, at total odds to the havoc his hands and mouth were wreaking on Ryan’s body.
Ryan stiffened, unable to help his reaction, and felt Lester’s knuckles press into the back of his neck as the metal collar bit harder into Ryan’s windpipe. It wasn’t the first time Lester had restricted his airflow like this and Ryan knew exactly how hard he would end up coming if this carried on – provided of course that he didn’t lose consciousness first.
His senses were starting to blur now, pain and pleasure dancing so closely together that Ryan no longer knew the distinction between the two. He was having trouble drawing air into his lungs and heat was starting to flow into his abdomen, pooling in his cock and balls.
As darkness drew inexorably closer, Lester murmured directly into his ear, “You have my permission to move if you can, Captain.”
Calling on a reserve of strength that surprised even him, Ryan managed to thrust his hips against the bed, sliding his leaking cock over the sheet. It was enough. Pleasure exploded inside him with the force of a roadside bomb. His body stiffened against his bonds and the metal of his collar bit hard into his neck. His climax sent white hot sparks through his nerve endings, setting his body on fire and cauterising the day from his brain.
As he slid into welcoming darkness, Ryan was dimply aware of Lester releasing his bindings and spooning against him, holding Ryan as the final tremors of an intense orgasm wracked his body.
* * * * *
“Go to sleep, Ryan,” Lester said, pulling the light duvet over them.
He was pressed up against Ryan’s sweat-slicked back, his still-limp cock pressed against the soldier’s arse.
It had been a shit of a day, but at least one of them would get some much-needed sleep that night.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-08-28 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-28 06:06 pm (UTC)Gorgeous scene. *stares*
no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-28 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-28 07:35 pm (UTC)*purrs*
no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-28 08:55 pm (UTC)watching as faint red lines over-laid the white tracery of scars
Love the imagery in that line.
He’d discovered quite early on in his time at the ARC that Lester knew how to tie knots.
Yummy mental image from that one!
Lester is really super in this one. And Ryan is hotter than hawt!
no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-29 03:20 pm (UTC)The soldier wore a collar and that meant he didn’t get a choice in the matter. Rrrrrr. I so love this AU.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-30 03:03 am (UTC)You really did wrap up a horrible day with an excellent stress reliever. Ryan did well out of this but poor Lester... **huggles Lester** He needs some lovin' too. *g*
no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-01 11:03 am (UTC)Lovely
no subject
Date: 2013-09-21 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-12 02:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-12 03:01 pm (UTC)