Fic, On the Mat, Becker/Ryan, 15
Jan. 27th, 2018 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : On the Mat
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count 2,700
Spoilers : None
Summary :
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
goldarrow for fandom stocking. Sorry it’s so late! I hope you enjoy this.
Being the new kid on the block was never easy in any posting, especially not when you were the youngest captain in the Regiment.
Being the new kid on the block when the previous CO was returning to work as a civilian consultant sucked diseased moose-wang.
Becker was trying to be desperately adult about the whole thing, but he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t succeeding.
All he’d heard since joining the anomaly project was how wonderful Captain Tom sodding Ryan was. If the men were to believed, the man could walk on water and then turn it into wine afterwards. A handy trick at regimental parties. The story of how he’d thumped Cutter in the Permian had become something of a legend. The professor told the story with no apparent rancour and the soldiers and the scientists lapped it up every time.
If Becker ever thumped a civilian he’d be out on his ear, but nobody had ever promised him that life would be fair. Although his mother had led him to believe that if he washed behind his ears and ate his greens without complaining, then good things would follow. Well, Becker’s ears were squeaky clean and he’d eaten almost an entire plateful of Brussels sprouts the night before but all that had done was give him was make him fart like a bullfrog. He was still waiting for the promised good things. Parents didn’t half tell a load of fucking lies. He’d have Pot Noodle and chips tonight, just to pay the world back from screwing him over.
Ryan made his entrance from the interior car park (not that Becker was remotely peeved about parking privileges, oh no, not at all), limping into the control room, looking utterly composed and at home. Abby promptly threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. Connor pumped his hand then indulged in an awkward man-hug.
Lester, standing at the top of the ramp, even cracked a smile. “Welcome back, Ryan. I’ll see you in my office in ten minutes.”
The rumour mill had omitted to warn Becker about one important thing. No one had thought to mention how fucking hot the man was. Ryan was a shade under 6’, medium build, with dirty blond hair worn in military cut. He walked with a pronounced limp off his left leg, and had a jagged scar down his left cheek that tracked down his neck, before disappearing under the collar of an open-necked grey shirt worn tucked into a pair of black jeans. Ryan’s lower lip was bisected by deep scar and there was another one at his right temple. Ryan wore both the limp and the scars unselfconsciously.
When the man had disentangled himself from Abby and Connor, and shaken hands with the other technician on Connor’s sprawling Anomaly Detection Device, he turned to Becker and said, “Captain Becker?”
Becker forced himself to stop ogling and said, trying for cool but probably failing, “Captain Ryan, good to meet you at last, sir.”
Ryan smiled. “Just Ryan is fine. I’m only here as a civilian contractor now.”
As well as being fucking hot, the man was also fully weapons certified. The brief Becker had been given said Ryan’s job was simply to act as a special advisor, should it be needed. Whatever the fuck that meant. Maybe the Powers That Be hadn’t wanted to be seen just discarding Ryan like an old, broken piece of kit, although they weren’t normally that touch-feely. And even with his injuries, Ryan could still earn good money on the PMC circuit, so he wasn’t likely to have ended up on a street corner.
Becker mentally rolled his tongue back in and mustered a smile. “Coffee later?”
Ryan nodded. “That’ll be good, thanks.”
Becker had an excellent view of Ryan arse as he made his way up the ramp to the first floor.
It was definitely an arse worth watching.
****
Lester waved a hand at the black leather sofa in his office. “It’s good to have you back.”
Ryan sank into the sofa and immediately regretted it. The thing seemed determined to eat him alive. He’d never get up without an ungainly struggle, but there wasn’t much about his physical problems that Lester wasn’t aware of, so there was no point standing – or rather sitting - on ceremony.
“It’s good to be back, sir. There’s only so much daytime TV anyone can take. I caught myself watching Judge Rinder last week.”
Lester winced. “He’s not a patch on Judge Judy. Did you succumb to Jeremy Kyle?”
“I’d sooner poke my eyes out with a pencil.”
“I’m glad we managed to save you from that.”
“That depends on whether there really is a job here for me or not, sir.”
“I’m relieved to see you’ve not lost your customary directness, Ryan. There’s very much a job here for you. No one has ever managed to wrangle Cutter quite the way you did. With Stephen still on sick leave, there’s no one to keep the wretched man in order.”
“Becker?”
“He’s a good soldier and the men respect him. He’s sorting that side of things out admirably, but this isn’t exactly a routine posting. Cutter is running rings around him. Give him Becker shoulder to cry on if he needs it.” Ryan must have looked as horrified as he felt, as Lester quickly added, “Metaphorically, of course.”
“Glad we’ve cleared that up, sir. So apart from agony aunting your military lead, what else do you expect me to do?”
“Whatever it takes to keep the team safe. If they need something, tell me. If there are problems, sort them out.”
As a job description, it didn’t give him much to go on, but it was better than staying at home with Judge Rinder killing off his braincells one by one. Lester was right, it was only a short hop from there to Jeremy Kyle…
****
After a fortnight, Ryan had settled into something of a routine with Becker. He’d quickly learned that the young captain didn’t talk too well face to face – not even in the pub – so Ryan had taken to spending time with him on the firing range, blasting their way through a small fortune in ammunition.
Talking wearing ear defenders wasn’t practical, but afterwards, while they stripped and cleaned the weapons, Becker seemed more able to open up, running through the day’s civilian-induced irritations, or discussing the finer points of animal handling on an anomaly shout. Ryan was trying to talk him out of the ‘shoot now, ask Abby later’ mentality, mainly on the grounds of the grief it led to when Abby got her hands on him, but he had to admit that when it came to raptors, he’d be prepared to make an exception to the usual rule.
Becker was reserved, and had a very rigid stick up his arse – not a mental picture that Ryan wanted to dwell on for too long, especially not when he was having other, rather different thoughts about the captain’s extremely attractive arse – but that’s what you got from having both parents in the military. In Ryan’s experience, posh boys’ boarding schools produced good officer material, but then it was left to the sergeants to sort out the gaps in their superiors’ education, but as Becker had gone from Sandhurst into a commission with the Blues & Royals and then into the Regiment at his first attempt at Selection, he hadn’t spent too much of his formative time in the army with the other ranks.
The anomaly project would help cure that, but first Becker would have to get the bunch of not-so-likely lads that the Powers That Be had dumped on the project once they’d decided they couldn’t keep so many special forces soldiers tied up dinosaur-hunting. Ryan was working behind the scenes with Lester to get that decision reversed, and to that end he was having a drink with his old CO the following week, but for now they were stuck with trying to manufacture a Gucci handbag out of a pig’s lughole.
After an hour spent pulling cleaning rags through various barrels, Ryan stood up. He could feel his muscles stretch uncomfortably in protest. “Fancy a work out in the gym?” The words were out before he even thought about what he was saying.
Becker looked up and raised his scarred eyebrow. “On the machines?”
“On the mat. I’ve pounded enough bloody machines over the past umpteen months.”
“So you fancy pounding me, instead?” Becker delivered the words with an admirably straight face, but Ryan could see the mischief dancing in the man’s hazel eyes.
Ryan felt heat rise to his cheeks. Luckily it was warm in the armoury and they were both sweating slightly. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that, sunshine.”
Becker grinned. “I won’t make any allowances for your advanced age.”
Ryan flipped him an oil stained-finger. “You won’t need to, baby boy.”
“Fighting talk…”
****
Becker pulled off his boots and socks and joined Ryan on the heavy combat mats in the centre of the gym. They were both dressed the same way they’d been in the armoury. Ryan had on a loose fitting grey teeshirt and a pair of dark blue multi-pocketed trekking trousers. Becker was wearing his black combats and a tight black teeshirt. Fights usually happened when you were wearing ordinary clothes, not martial arts kit. The only concession to common sense was shedding their footwear to make any kicks less damaging.
A foot-strike came out of bloody nowhere, swiping Becker’s left leg from underneath him. He bit back a curse and rolled away, coming to his feet and putting some clear air between them before Ryan had chance to press home the advantage. There was no point in crying foul at the early start. Ryan clearly believed in sergeants’ mess rules.
A couple of minutes later, Becker was sweating freely and had several bruises in the offing. Despite his limp, Ryan was blisteringly fast, and had already brought an impressive range of downright filthy moves to the party. Becker was struggling, and Ryan clearly knew it. The bastard’s breathing had hardly even changed. The former special forces captain fought with silent intensity, and somehow always seemed to be half a move ahead.
Becker knew the other man’s weakness would be his injured left leg, but he couldn’t bring himself to exploit that knowledge, and as a result, he was having his arse handed to him on a plate.
Ryan’s scarred lips were quirked into an amused smile, and sweat shone on his equally damaged cheek and neck. The marks of the future predator’s teeth and claws were all too visible, but despite that, Ryan was still fucking sexy, and Becker had only been half-joking in his words back in the armour. He’d fancied Ryan from the first moment he’d seen the man limp into the control room, and had soon started to like him as well, even though he still found it fucking hard to live up to the former captain’s reputation, but that was hardly Ryan’s fault…
“Fuck!” Without knowing how he’d got there, Becker found himself on his back, winded, the breath driven out of his body by a hard thump to his solar plexus – probably delivered by an elbow, but he couldn’t be sure.
He rolled onto his side, still gasping for breath, and shot both feet hard at Ryan’s bad leg. The blow connected and Ryan went down, Then they were grappling on the mat, each trying to be the one that flipped the other onto their back. They were evenly matched in weight, Becker’s slight height advantage doing him no good when they were at close quarters. Becker was trying hard not to let Ryan get too close. The adrenaline rush from the fight had gone straight to Becker’s cock and it was currently hard enough to knock holes in wood, a fact that was about to become obvious any moment…
…now.
Ryan’s forearms pinned his shoulders to the ground, leaving Becker no alternative other than to buck his hips up, hoping to dislodge the other man. All he succeeded in doing was rubbing his cock against Ryan’s groin. Ryan still had his shoulders pinned down with most of his weight, while the rest held Becker’s body down on the mat. Becker bucked again, and every nerve was immediately alive to the sensations dancing down his cock and through the rest of his body like an electric surge.
Ryan’s scarred mouth twisted in an amused smile. “Do that again.” They were the first words he’d spoken during the fight.
“Why?” Becker ground out through teeth gritted against the effort of straining to dislodge Ryan.
“Because it feels fucking good.”
Becker closed his eyes trying to block out the embarrassment. His cock throbbed in his pants, clearly asking if it had a vote in what happened next. Becker groaned and gave in, bucking his hips to bring their two hard cocks into contact with each other. Ryan ground his hips against Becker’s and Christ on a bike it felt good. It felt so fucking good.
If this was going to happen, the least he could do was enjoy it properly – and hope no bugger came into the gym in the next few minutes. Becker opened his eyes. A pair of blue eyes only inches from his face held amusement and something else, something Becker couldn’t quite fathom, but he suspected that Ryan hadn’t had much company apart from his own hand for several months.
It was hard to move with Ryan’s weight on him, but Becker wasn’t quite ready to give up. He bucked his hips again and a low groan escaped Ryan’s scarred lips.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
Becker obliged by doing it again. Ryan’s hard cock was pressed against Becker’s own erection and the other man’s pupils were so far dilated that only a thin rim of blue showed around the rim. Ryan rolled his hips, rubbing their hard-ons together. Sparks danced along Becker’s nerves and his cock pulsed as he came in a warm rush. Ryan pressed against him, hard, and then a small gasp told him Ryan had just hit his own climax.
Half-expecting to hear cat-calls from the doorway, Becker let himself relax as the small after-shocks of orgasm chased along his spine. A moment, later, Ryan’s lips met his in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. The scarred lips lived up to the wank-fantasies he’d indulged in a few times since Ryan’s arrival. Ryan kissed as competently and as unyieldingly as he fought. Their tongues duelled for supremacy, then Becker simply let Ryan plunder his mouth.
****
The move, when it came, caught Ryan by surprise. One minute he was lying on top of Becker, doing what he’d wanted to do for days and kissing the man senseless. The next he was on his back, Becker’s groin still pressed hard up against his now-softening cock, with his erstwhile opponent grinning down at him.
Ryan laughed breathlessly, ceding the moment – and the fight - to Becker. He’d just had the most fun he could remember having since that skeletal freak from the future had put paid to his hopes and dreams. Becker had finally treated him as an equal in the fight, and the ache in Ryan’s bad leg was more than worth it for the moment Becker had given up playing like a nice puppy and had just retaliated by instinct, kicking Ryan’s leg from under him with no thought for any prior injury. He’d finally treated Ryan like an equal in all respects.
Ryan smiled, tasting the sweat on his lips with his tongue. “Thanks for not pulling that punch.”
Becker bent his head and licked the scar on Ryan’s lower lip, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. That formed the prelude to another hard, dirty kiss that left them both breathless.
When they finally drew apart, Ryan asked, “Shall we stop tempting fate here and move this to the showers?”
Becker grinned. “I locked the door while you were taking your boots off.”
“Cocky little bugger.” Ryan reached up and ruffled Becker’s sweat slicked hair.
But it was nice to know they didn’t have to rush.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count 2,700
Spoilers : None
Summary :
A/N : Written for
goldarrow for fandom stocking. Sorry it’s so late! I hope you enjoy this.Being the new kid on the block was never easy in any posting, especially not when you were the youngest captain in the Regiment.
Being the new kid on the block when the previous CO was returning to work as a civilian consultant sucked diseased moose-wang.
Becker was trying to be desperately adult about the whole thing, but he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t succeeding.
All he’d heard since joining the anomaly project was how wonderful Captain Tom sodding Ryan was. If the men were to believed, the man could walk on water and then turn it into wine afterwards. A handy trick at regimental parties. The story of how he’d thumped Cutter in the Permian had become something of a legend. The professor told the story with no apparent rancour and the soldiers and the scientists lapped it up every time.
If Becker ever thumped a civilian he’d be out on his ear, but nobody had ever promised him that life would be fair. Although his mother had led him to believe that if he washed behind his ears and ate his greens without complaining, then good things would follow. Well, Becker’s ears were squeaky clean and he’d eaten almost an entire plateful of Brussels sprouts the night before but all that had done was give him was make him fart like a bullfrog. He was still waiting for the promised good things. Parents didn’t half tell a load of fucking lies. He’d have Pot Noodle and chips tonight, just to pay the world back from screwing him over.
Ryan made his entrance from the interior car park (not that Becker was remotely peeved about parking privileges, oh no, not at all), limping into the control room, looking utterly composed and at home. Abby promptly threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. Connor pumped his hand then indulged in an awkward man-hug.
Lester, standing at the top of the ramp, even cracked a smile. “Welcome back, Ryan. I’ll see you in my office in ten minutes.”
The rumour mill had omitted to warn Becker about one important thing. No one had thought to mention how fucking hot the man was. Ryan was a shade under 6’, medium build, with dirty blond hair worn in military cut. He walked with a pronounced limp off his left leg, and had a jagged scar down his left cheek that tracked down his neck, before disappearing under the collar of an open-necked grey shirt worn tucked into a pair of black jeans. Ryan’s lower lip was bisected by deep scar and there was another one at his right temple. Ryan wore both the limp and the scars unselfconsciously.
When the man had disentangled himself from Abby and Connor, and shaken hands with the other technician on Connor’s sprawling Anomaly Detection Device, he turned to Becker and said, “Captain Becker?”
Becker forced himself to stop ogling and said, trying for cool but probably failing, “Captain Ryan, good to meet you at last, sir.”
Ryan smiled. “Just Ryan is fine. I’m only here as a civilian contractor now.”
As well as being fucking hot, the man was also fully weapons certified. The brief Becker had been given said Ryan’s job was simply to act as a special advisor, should it be needed. Whatever the fuck that meant. Maybe the Powers That Be hadn’t wanted to be seen just discarding Ryan like an old, broken piece of kit, although they weren’t normally that touch-feely. And even with his injuries, Ryan could still earn good money on the PMC circuit, so he wasn’t likely to have ended up on a street corner.
Becker mentally rolled his tongue back in and mustered a smile. “Coffee later?”
Ryan nodded. “That’ll be good, thanks.”
Becker had an excellent view of Ryan arse as he made his way up the ramp to the first floor.
It was definitely an arse worth watching.
****
Lester waved a hand at the black leather sofa in his office. “It’s good to have you back.”
Ryan sank into the sofa and immediately regretted it. The thing seemed determined to eat him alive. He’d never get up without an ungainly struggle, but there wasn’t much about his physical problems that Lester wasn’t aware of, so there was no point standing – or rather sitting - on ceremony.
“It’s good to be back, sir. There’s only so much daytime TV anyone can take. I caught myself watching Judge Rinder last week.”
Lester winced. “He’s not a patch on Judge Judy. Did you succumb to Jeremy Kyle?”
“I’d sooner poke my eyes out with a pencil.”
“I’m glad we managed to save you from that.”
“That depends on whether there really is a job here for me or not, sir.”
“I’m relieved to see you’ve not lost your customary directness, Ryan. There’s very much a job here for you. No one has ever managed to wrangle Cutter quite the way you did. With Stephen still on sick leave, there’s no one to keep the wretched man in order.”
“Becker?”
“He’s a good soldier and the men respect him. He’s sorting that side of things out admirably, but this isn’t exactly a routine posting. Cutter is running rings around him. Give him Becker shoulder to cry on if he needs it.” Ryan must have looked as horrified as he felt, as Lester quickly added, “Metaphorically, of course.”
“Glad we’ve cleared that up, sir. So apart from agony aunting your military lead, what else do you expect me to do?”
“Whatever it takes to keep the team safe. If they need something, tell me. If there are problems, sort them out.”
As a job description, it didn’t give him much to go on, but it was better than staying at home with Judge Rinder killing off his braincells one by one. Lester was right, it was only a short hop from there to Jeremy Kyle…
****
After a fortnight, Ryan had settled into something of a routine with Becker. He’d quickly learned that the young captain didn’t talk too well face to face – not even in the pub – so Ryan had taken to spending time with him on the firing range, blasting their way through a small fortune in ammunition.
Talking wearing ear defenders wasn’t practical, but afterwards, while they stripped and cleaned the weapons, Becker seemed more able to open up, running through the day’s civilian-induced irritations, or discussing the finer points of animal handling on an anomaly shout. Ryan was trying to talk him out of the ‘shoot now, ask Abby later’ mentality, mainly on the grounds of the grief it led to when Abby got her hands on him, but he had to admit that when it came to raptors, he’d be prepared to make an exception to the usual rule.
Becker was reserved, and had a very rigid stick up his arse – not a mental picture that Ryan wanted to dwell on for too long, especially not when he was having other, rather different thoughts about the captain’s extremely attractive arse – but that’s what you got from having both parents in the military. In Ryan’s experience, posh boys’ boarding schools produced good officer material, but then it was left to the sergeants to sort out the gaps in their superiors’ education, but as Becker had gone from Sandhurst into a commission with the Blues & Royals and then into the Regiment at his first attempt at Selection, he hadn’t spent too much of his formative time in the army with the other ranks.
The anomaly project would help cure that, but first Becker would have to get the bunch of not-so-likely lads that the Powers That Be had dumped on the project once they’d decided they couldn’t keep so many special forces soldiers tied up dinosaur-hunting. Ryan was working behind the scenes with Lester to get that decision reversed, and to that end he was having a drink with his old CO the following week, but for now they were stuck with trying to manufacture a Gucci handbag out of a pig’s lughole.
After an hour spent pulling cleaning rags through various barrels, Ryan stood up. He could feel his muscles stretch uncomfortably in protest. “Fancy a work out in the gym?” The words were out before he even thought about what he was saying.
Becker looked up and raised his scarred eyebrow. “On the machines?”
“On the mat. I’ve pounded enough bloody machines over the past umpteen months.”
“So you fancy pounding me, instead?” Becker delivered the words with an admirably straight face, but Ryan could see the mischief dancing in the man’s hazel eyes.
Ryan felt heat rise to his cheeks. Luckily it was warm in the armoury and they were both sweating slightly. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that, sunshine.”
Becker grinned. “I won’t make any allowances for your advanced age.”
Ryan flipped him an oil stained-finger. “You won’t need to, baby boy.”
“Fighting talk…”
****
Becker pulled off his boots and socks and joined Ryan on the heavy combat mats in the centre of the gym. They were both dressed the same way they’d been in the armoury. Ryan had on a loose fitting grey teeshirt and a pair of dark blue multi-pocketed trekking trousers. Becker was wearing his black combats and a tight black teeshirt. Fights usually happened when you were wearing ordinary clothes, not martial arts kit. The only concession to common sense was shedding their footwear to make any kicks less damaging.
A foot-strike came out of bloody nowhere, swiping Becker’s left leg from underneath him. He bit back a curse and rolled away, coming to his feet and putting some clear air between them before Ryan had chance to press home the advantage. There was no point in crying foul at the early start. Ryan clearly believed in sergeants’ mess rules.
A couple of minutes later, Becker was sweating freely and had several bruises in the offing. Despite his limp, Ryan was blisteringly fast, and had already brought an impressive range of downright filthy moves to the party. Becker was struggling, and Ryan clearly knew it. The bastard’s breathing had hardly even changed. The former special forces captain fought with silent intensity, and somehow always seemed to be half a move ahead.
Becker knew the other man’s weakness would be his injured left leg, but he couldn’t bring himself to exploit that knowledge, and as a result, he was having his arse handed to him on a plate.
Ryan’s scarred lips were quirked into an amused smile, and sweat shone on his equally damaged cheek and neck. The marks of the future predator’s teeth and claws were all too visible, but despite that, Ryan was still fucking sexy, and Becker had only been half-joking in his words back in the armour. He’d fancied Ryan from the first moment he’d seen the man limp into the control room, and had soon started to like him as well, even though he still found it fucking hard to live up to the former captain’s reputation, but that was hardly Ryan’s fault…
“Fuck!” Without knowing how he’d got there, Becker found himself on his back, winded, the breath driven out of his body by a hard thump to his solar plexus – probably delivered by an elbow, but he couldn’t be sure.
He rolled onto his side, still gasping for breath, and shot both feet hard at Ryan’s bad leg. The blow connected and Ryan went down, Then they were grappling on the mat, each trying to be the one that flipped the other onto their back. They were evenly matched in weight, Becker’s slight height advantage doing him no good when they were at close quarters. Becker was trying hard not to let Ryan get too close. The adrenaline rush from the fight had gone straight to Becker’s cock and it was currently hard enough to knock holes in wood, a fact that was about to become obvious any moment…
…now.
Ryan’s forearms pinned his shoulders to the ground, leaving Becker no alternative other than to buck his hips up, hoping to dislodge the other man. All he succeeded in doing was rubbing his cock against Ryan’s groin. Ryan still had his shoulders pinned down with most of his weight, while the rest held Becker’s body down on the mat. Becker bucked again, and every nerve was immediately alive to the sensations dancing down his cock and through the rest of his body like an electric surge.
Ryan’s scarred mouth twisted in an amused smile. “Do that again.” They were the first words he’d spoken during the fight.
“Why?” Becker ground out through teeth gritted against the effort of straining to dislodge Ryan.
“Because it feels fucking good.”
Becker closed his eyes trying to block out the embarrassment. His cock throbbed in his pants, clearly asking if it had a vote in what happened next. Becker groaned and gave in, bucking his hips to bring their two hard cocks into contact with each other. Ryan ground his hips against Becker’s and Christ on a bike it felt good. It felt so fucking good.
If this was going to happen, the least he could do was enjoy it properly – and hope no bugger came into the gym in the next few minutes. Becker opened his eyes. A pair of blue eyes only inches from his face held amusement and something else, something Becker couldn’t quite fathom, but he suspected that Ryan hadn’t had much company apart from his own hand for several months.
It was hard to move with Ryan’s weight on him, but Becker wasn’t quite ready to give up. He bucked his hips again and a low groan escaped Ryan’s scarred lips.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
Becker obliged by doing it again. Ryan’s hard cock was pressed against Becker’s own erection and the other man’s pupils were so far dilated that only a thin rim of blue showed around the rim. Ryan rolled his hips, rubbing their hard-ons together. Sparks danced along Becker’s nerves and his cock pulsed as he came in a warm rush. Ryan pressed against him, hard, and then a small gasp told him Ryan had just hit his own climax.
Half-expecting to hear cat-calls from the doorway, Becker let himself relax as the small after-shocks of orgasm chased along his spine. A moment, later, Ryan’s lips met his in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. The scarred lips lived up to the wank-fantasies he’d indulged in a few times since Ryan’s arrival. Ryan kissed as competently and as unyieldingly as he fought. Their tongues duelled for supremacy, then Becker simply let Ryan plunder his mouth.
****
The move, when it came, caught Ryan by surprise. One minute he was lying on top of Becker, doing what he’d wanted to do for days and kissing the man senseless. The next he was on his back, Becker’s groin still pressed hard up against his now-softening cock, with his erstwhile opponent grinning down at him.
Ryan laughed breathlessly, ceding the moment – and the fight - to Becker. He’d just had the most fun he could remember having since that skeletal freak from the future had put paid to his hopes and dreams. Becker had finally treated him as an equal in the fight, and the ache in Ryan’s bad leg was more than worth it for the moment Becker had given up playing like a nice puppy and had just retaliated by instinct, kicking Ryan’s leg from under him with no thought for any prior injury. He’d finally treated Ryan like an equal in all respects.
Ryan smiled, tasting the sweat on his lips with his tongue. “Thanks for not pulling that punch.”
Becker bent his head and licked the scar on Ryan’s lower lip, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. That formed the prelude to another hard, dirty kiss that left them both breathless.
When they finally drew apart, Ryan asked, “Shall we stop tempting fate here and move this to the showers?”
Becker grinned. “I locked the door while you were taking your boots off.”
“Cocky little bugger.” Ryan reached up and ruffled Becker’s sweat slicked hair.
But it was nice to know they didn’t have to rush.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-01-27 07:49 pm (UTC)That was so funny at first (I wanted to pet Becker, poor puppy!), then got so amazingly hot!
That was a terrific description of the fight; I could see every move in my mind's eye.
And the frottage at the end was perfect.
*g* No one ever said Becker was slow on the uptake!
I loved how he was holding back until instinct got the better of him, and how Ryan appreciated it. Well done.
Ryan was trying to talk him out of the ‘shoot now, ask Abby later’ mentality, mainly on the grounds of the grief it led to when Abby got her hands on him, but he had to admit that when it came to raptors, he’d be prepared to make an exception to the usual rule.
Oh, yes. Loved this. Abby doesn't take shit from anyone LOL.
In Ryan’s experience, posh boys’ boarding schools produced good officer material, but then it was left to the sergeants to sort out the gaps in their superiors’ education, but as Becker had gone from Sandhurst into a commission with the Blues & Royals and then into the Regiment at his first attempt at Selection, he hadn’t spent too much of his formative time in the army with the other ranks.
That's very interesting! I can see how they'd need the seasoning of experienced lower ranks to help them manage reality. :)
This was terrific, thank you sooooo much!
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2018-01-27 07:59 pm (UTC)Fight scenes are always a bugger, especially unarmed combat, so I;m very glad this came over all right!
*hugs back*
no subject
Date: 2018-01-27 08:08 pm (UTC)Kudos for pushing through on them!
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Date: 2018-01-28 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-28 05:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-29 12:51 pm (UTC)We need more for fix it month.
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Date: 2018-01-28 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-29 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-14 10:34 pm (UTC)*g* I won't repeat my old comment, but I might as well - everything I said in that one still holds true!
This rec wasgreat!
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Date: 2022-01-14 11:00 pm (UTC)Can you dig one out for next week?
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Date: 2022-01-14 11:01 pm (UTC)I'll put it in my diary.
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Date: 2022-01-14 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-15 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-15 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-01-15 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-06 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-02-06 10:15 pm (UTC)