fredbassett | Fic, Endangered Species, Part 3, Slash, Stephen/Ryan, 18

Title : Endangered Species, Part 3
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Stephen/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine (except Lyle), don't sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : Something nasty in the woods
Tags : Fic, Slash, Stephen, Ryan

It took until dawn, but by then they were sure the immediate vicinity of the hotel was safe. They even found the Anomaly, just before it faded into tiny splintered fragments, leaving behind a legacy of pain, sharp and brittle. A third Special Forces team had reached them within an hour but the Home Office clean up crew took longer, but then they had needed to find some really big flatbed lorries, each equipped with crane lifts. Not an easy task in the middle of the night. And various civil servants had needed to be removed from warm comfortable beds. Probably harder than finding the crane lifts.

It would be a few hours before Cutter and the others made it here, but there would still be tyrannosaur corpses to move even then. And the consensus was that Lester was not going to like any of this one little bit.

With a pale, damp dawn showing over the tops of the trees, Stephen finally gave up and stumbled upstairs. He started shedding clothes even before the bedroom door had closed. The shower was warm, and very, very welcome even though the sight of the unpleasantly pinkish water running off him was an all too stark reminder that he had seen more blood tonight than he wanted to think about. Ever.

By the time Ryan came in, Stephen was sprawled in loose limbed exhaustion across the bed. Sleep was an obvious priority, but not covered in blood and dinosaur guts, even Ryan drew the line at that. His fingers fumbled numbly with the velcro fastenings of his tac vest. Eventually the jacket followed it onto the floor.

Stephen stirred and rolled over onto his side, hair still damp and spiky. “Need a hand?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Finger’s more nimble than Ryan’s started to unlace his boots, then the sweat soaked shirt was carefully peeled off his shoulders and cool, long-fingered hands tried to rub some of the tension from his neck. Eventually, he pushed himself upright, wincing as the twisted knee took his weight.

Trousers followed the rest of the clothes and for a moment, Stephen stood back and surveyed the damage. A massive bruise was already spreading across one side where the tyrannosaurs tail had sent the Special Forces leader flying. Ryan’s left knee was badly swollen, and another livid bruise covered his right upper arm. Blood had managed to find its way even through several layers of clothing and its metallic smell mingled sharply with the odour of sweat and cordite.

He stepped up close, one hand slipping round Ryan’s waist, the other running up through his sweat darkened hair.

“I thought we’d agreed it was only a one person shower?”

Stephen kissed him lightly on the lips. “It is. And you need one, followed by a beer and a fuck. In that order. Now get on with it before you fall asleep on your feet.”

Strong arms encircled him in reply. Ryan pulled the younger man close and kissed him with a fierce, almost desperate intensity before he limped across the dark bedroom, muttering, “There’s a couple of knee bandages somewhere in my pack and some tablets, see if you can find them.”

“Do you want me to fetch the medic?”

“No point. Take two tablets and stay away from monsters is all the advice he’ll give. Forget it.”

By the time Ryan came out of the shower, Stephen had opened a beers, poured a large whisky and set out painkillers and anti-inflammatories next to the glass. The captain grinned and downed several of each, plus the whisky, in two swallows. The beer followed almost as quickly. Stephen took the tops of two more bottles, while Ryan pulled bandages carefully over his damaged knee.

“Do those things mix with alcohol?”

“Special Forces issue,” grinned Ryan. “You want to see how much the medics mix with them.”

Stephen watched the other man, wondering exactly how much damage he’d actually taken. He’d be amazed if there weren’t cracked or even broken ribs under the mass of bruising spreading in a dark, mottled patch from chest to hip. Ryan was drinking left handed, clearly avoiding the use of his other arm, and he was standing with the weight thrown onto his right leg. Stephen wondered idly whether Special Forces got sick leave. And whether this lot would be enough to qualify for it or not.

“I’m due a week off,” said Ryan, correctly interpreting Stephen’s appraising glance. “I’ll probably take it when I’ve finished getting it in the neck from Lester about the cost of the clear-up operation. That’s if you lot can manage to stay out of trouble for a week.”

“Cutter will be busy taking one of the bodies apart. And Connor’ll be in his element. T. rex was always one of his favourites. They’ll have endless arguments trying to work out what the hell the sodding things were doing on this side of the Atlantic, and why they were hunting in packs. But they can do it without me. I’m off anything bigger than a gerbil for the foreseeable future, that’s for sure.”

Ryan sighed. It was going to be a long report, but it could wait. He’d had the shower, and the drink, several of them in fact. It was now time for the fuck.

The pain killers were starting to do their work. He could almost manage to move his right arm without wincing. He reached out and ran a hand lightly across Hart’s chest, brushing both nipples, then trailing lower to stroke and caress. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his leg simply wouldn’t bend enough, he’d have used his mouth instead, but he’d have to be horizontal for that.

Stephen found himself drawn into Ryan’s arms with surprising gentleness, bodies touching, pressing, sliding together with a comfortable familiarity. The kiss they shared lacked the earlier ferocity, but instead it was slow, deep and tasted pleasantly of beer.

The lips that Stephen had seen all too often set in a thin, implacable line could deliver a remarkably expert kiss. He relaxed in his lover’s arms, confining his movements to a slow, circular, teasing of his hips, whilst enjoying the probing of the insistent tongue.

There’d been several times over the last few hours when he didn’t think he’d succeed in following Ryan’s instruction to stay alive, and several other moments when he hadn’t expected the other man to survive either. Their afternoon activities seemed like a lifetime ago. A lifetime that hadn’t contained images of dismembered bodies, snapping jaws and carrion breath.

He shuddered, and for a moment, it wasn’t with pleasure.

“Bed,” said Ryan, quietly and firmly, in a voice that drove away demons and turned Stephen’s insides to molten gold.

Once there, Ryan’s kisses became harder, his body pressing down on Stephen’s, preventing movement in a way that was very, very nice. It was obvious that on this occasion, injured or not, Ryan was in charge and nothing was required in return beyond a warm, compliant body. And that was something Stephen was all too willing to provide. The slow, insidious creep of adrenaline fatigue had started to deaden his senses almost from the moment he’d squeezed the trigger on the rocket-launcher and watched the tyrannosaur be blown apart.

He was just happy to lie back and let Ryan do whatever he wanted while Stephen concentrated on enjoying the feel of hands, lips, teeth and tongue exploring what seemed to be every sensitive part of his body. He’d never realised until now how good it felt to be kissed behind the backs of his knees!

Thought surrendered gratefully to feeling, and sensation finally banished memory.

Then for a moment, to his frustration, he was alone on the bed, while Ryan limped over to his discarded tac vest and rummaged through the pockets. A soft curse told Stephen that the bottle of gun oil hadn’t survived its encounter with the tyrannosaurus’s tail.

“Any left?”

“Enough, maybe. If not, you’ll have to grit your teeth.”

A finger probed him gently, slick and delicious. Stephen’s heart rate jumped and he pushed backwards with his hips, wanting more. A second finger followed, drier and slightly more uncomfortable, but it still drove his pulse rate up even higher and ensured he didn’t care whether there was any bloody oil left or not. He didn’t mind how much it hurt. He wanted Ryan inside him, he wanted him now and he said so.

The other man laughed, low, intense and very controlled. Then, in a voice husky with sex, Ryan murmured in his ear, “I know I threatened to find your pain threshold, Hart, but it really will hurt if you’re dry. There’s probably something in the bathroom that would help.”

“No way. I’m not blowing bubbles from my arse for the rest of the day. You can forget that idea. Use what’s left of the oil and get on with it. I want it to hurt. Ryan, just fuck me, now,………… please!” He thrust his hips back again, brushing against Ryan’s cock as hard as he could.

“Not so fast, lover-boy. Be patient.” To his own surprise, Ryan was still in full control, probably helped by the occasional distracting stab of pain from his ribs. He was fairly certain that at least two were broken, but he had no intention of letting a minor inconvenience like that get in the way.

He reached up and captured both of Stephen’s wrists in one hand. With the other he continued a slow but thorough exploration of his lover’s body, pausing every now and again to probe deeply with his fingers. Moans turned to gasps. Ryan ignored the noises and started to kiss his way across Stephen’s shoulders and down his back, biting and licking. The younger man was writhing hard, but he didn’t stand a hope in hell of breaking Ryan’s grip, and that only made him writhe even more, enjoying the other man’s strength, testing himself against it and failing. And enjoying the failure, in spite of the bruises it would leave.

It was when Stephen started to make soft, desperate mewing noises in his throat that Ryan’s control finally wavered. He grabbed the bottle of gun oil and let the last few drops trickle out. He’d been right, it wasn’t enough, but they were both way beyond caring.

Stephen’s breath caught in his throat as Ryan entered him and he bit back a cry of pain. He wanted this, but dear god, it hurt. And he still wanted more. Ryan slid forward, starting to thrust. He couldn’t have stopped now even if he’d wanted to. Ignoring the pain from ribs and knee, he drove into Hart, conscious of nothing now beyond his own need for release. The slender body beneath him, cord-thin and muscular pushed back, equally hard and demanding.

The initial gasp of pain gave way quickly to those small, throaty cries. Ryan soon worked out what angles and which movements were the ones that drew out those noises, and others like them, and with ruthless efficiency, he began to exploit that knowledge.

And to his own surprise, for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Ryan suddenly found he was more concerned with someone else’s pleasure than with his own. It wasn’t something he was used to. The aftermath of his marriage had left him largely devoid of feelings for others and his few liaisons since had been brief and to the point. And not what could be described as either caring or sharing.

This was different.

Ryan smiled into the darkness and gently kissed the sweat-soaked neck and shoulders, while continuing the slow, deep movement of his hips. Drawing out almost completely, then sliding in again, Hart’s body pliant and trusting, moving with him, and against him in all the right ways.

Abruptly, Ryan knew what he wanted above anything else. He withdrew and flipped Hart over onto his back, ignoring his protests, sliding down his lover’s body then using his mouth to good effect. Stephen’s protest turned to a sharp cry of pleasure as he discovered that Ryan’s mouth was as expert at other things as it was at kissing. He found his hips held in a grip of steel, heightening sensation by refusing even to let him squirm, while silk-smooth lips sucked and teased, sending waves of pleasure through a body that already felt like it couldn’t take any more without coming apart.

Dimly conscious of the fact that he could probably be heard throughout the hotel, but well beyond the point of caring, Stephen gave up any attempt to suppress his own cries, running his hands urgently through Ryan’s short hair, torn between never wanting this to end and desperately seeking release.

Then a hard, muscular body covered him, the demanding lips sought out his, tongues met again and hips pressed together, sliding, striving. Stephen gasped into Ryan’s mouth, blue eyes held in thrall by grey, then the two of them climaxed together, thrown into a place which held no pain, no hurt, nothing but a pleasure more intense than either could remember.

Then Stephen was quiet at last, cradled gently in his lover’s arms.

And Ryan knew with absolute certainty that he wanted to hear those soft kitten noises again.

Very, very soon.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

telperion-15.livejournal.com

Um, I can't think of anything to say, owing to the fact that you have just turned by brain completely to mush. This is so far beyond hot that words just can't describe it. You are a total genius. This is an absolutely fantastic end to the story.

“Bed,” said Ryan, quietly and firmly, in a voice that drove away demons and turned Stephen’s insides to molten gold.
This had melted my insides...

blue eyes held in thrall by grey
Guh.

Incidentally, I apologise for the amount of gushing, but I am so totally in love with this story.

From:

fredbassett

Don't appologise, I'm just really pleased I didn't lose you in boredom en route!! I've spent most of the last two weeks playing with this fic and then started to lose the courage of my convictions today about posting it, as there's been so much good stuff appear while I've been away that I was reluctant to offer this lot up as it seemed pretty dull by comparison, so the fact that you liked it makes it worthwhile! Thanks for gushing :)

There's a sort of short "afterwards" bit to come and I suspect this theme will continue. I don't feel inclined to abandon these two just yet, they're such fun.

Fic, Endangered Species, Part 3, Slash, Stephen/Ryan, 18

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