fredbassett

Title : Wet, Wet, Wet
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Connor
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : There are times when short cuts lead to longer delays.
A/N : Written for

ebonyfeather’s birthday! I’m sorry about the toothache, but I hope this fits your prompt!

“Look on the bright side, at least your laptop cover is waterproof.” Becker knew it wasn’t much of a motivational speech, but it was all he could think of when then were stuck in the middle of a very wet forest, practically ankle deep in red, glutinous mud.

“How do you know it’s waterproof?” Connor dashed wet hair out of his eyes and carried on squelching through the undergrowth.

“You told me last week when we…”

“…got stuck in another rainstorm at least a mile from the cars.”

“We do seem to make a bit of a habit of it,” Becker admitted.

“Haven’t you got a collapsible umbrella somewhere in all those pockets?”

“Bit late for that. I think we’re both soaked to the skin.” Becker could feel rivulets of water making their way under his collar, inside his tac vest and down the back of his neck, where they then soaked into his teeshirt. “At least it’s not cold.”

Connor treated him to an eyeroll that was worthy of Lester at his best. “Becks, stop being so relentlessly cheerful. It’s wet, muddy and we’re probably lost.”

“Are you impugning my route-finding abilities?”

“I’m not even sure what impugning means, but yes, I probably am. Are we lost?”

“Only slightly.”

Connor pushed his wet hair back and again and made a noise that might, just might, have been a laugh. Or it might have been the start of a cough. Or a sneeze. Or something else that indicated Connor Temple was going down with a nasty cold because Becker had decided to take a short cut back to the vehicles. Twice.

“Thought we might be.” To his credit, Connor didn’t sound overly grumpy, which only added to Becker’s guilty feelings.

“I could lend you my jacket…” he ventured.

“Is it more waterproof than mine?”

“Probably not.”

“Then you might as well keep it, mate. Any chance we could shelter under that tree for a bit? There’s not been any thunder for ages.”

Connor was right about that. The last low roll of thunder had been at least 15 minutes ago and there had been no lightning. The large, spreading beech tree did look like it might offer a brief respite from the pissing rain, although Becker didn’t really see how they were going to get any more wet if they just carried on. But Connor clearly wanted to take a rest…

The tree trunk was wide enough for them both to lean against it, and Connor was right, not much rain was getting through the thick canopy of leaves. Becker pulled his phone out and sent a text to one of his men, saying they were sheltering from the rain and would be back shortly. As lies went, it was only slightly off-white.

“Your secret’s safe with me, soldier boy.”

Becker turned around to see a big grin on Connor’s face. The sort of grin that made Becker want to kiss it off Connor’s face, but despite the teasing tone, Becker had no bloody idea how that would go down. So he did what he always did in circumstances like this and simply played it safe. “Don’t call me soldier boy.”

The grin only widened.

Becker watched as a large fat drop of water rolled down Connor’s forehead and onto his nose. Becker fought against the urge to lean forward and catch it on his tongue. Luckily, Connor pre-empted that by hauling a very damp handkerchief out of his pocket and scrubbing at the water on his face.

With his hair now plastered damply to his head, Connor looked like a drowned rat. His clothes clung to his body accentuating his lean frame.

“Becks, are you always this dense?”

“Sorry, I thought it would be quicker…”

Connor’s eyeroll would have taken Olympic gold, even with a panel of tough judges. He clicked his tongue in frustration then slipped an arm around Becker’s waist and pulled him up against another set of rain-soaked clothes. “Am I going to have to take out a full-page advert in Shotgun Weekly or something?”

The feel of Connor’s hard cock through two sets of very wet trousers told Becker all he needed to know. His brain finally clicked into the right gear and he closed the gap between their mouths with more enthusiasm than finesse. Teeth clashed, dripping noses bumped, then Connor titled his head sideways and they were kissing like they actually knew what they were doing, which was a relief. Becker felt the light brush of Connor’s fingers on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine that the rain had failed to achieve.

Connor’s tongue duelled with his and he ground his hips against Becker’s, his hard cock sending all the right messages. Becker quickly dropped a hand to the front of his black combats, rearranging his rapidly-hardening cock into a more sensible position. Connor pressed up against him hard and Becker felt his cock pulse in reaction. He groaned into Connor’s mouth like a randy teenager as he came in a warm rush. Connor’s hips bucked against him and he let out a quiet gasp and his fingers dug hard into Becker’s back.

They stayed pressed together, the small aftershocks of climax running through them. Eventually, Connor reached up with a shaky hand and brushed Becker’s hair back out of his eyes. The gesture felt even more intimate than the urgent rub-off they’d just indulged in. Becker smiled and finally gave in to the urge to kiss a water-droplet off the end of Connor’s nose.

“Look on the bright side,” Connor said, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “When we get back to the cars, no one’s going to know that we’ve just come in our pants.”

Becker grinned. In his world, it was all pretty bright at the moment.