fredbassett | Fic, Wishful Thinking, Ryan (Stephen), 18

Title : Wishful Thinking
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Ryan (Stephen)
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ryan relaxes after a bad day.
A/N : Written for the

mmom challenge

Ryan slammed his rucksack onto the hotel chair with a force that sent it backwards by at least a foot and left a scrape on the wallpaper.

It had been a crappy fucking day. Two of his lads had ended up in hospital and so had Cutter. It really was high time the silly sod accepted that trying to get big buggers with a bad attitude back through the anomalies with only the application of non-lethal force was all too frequently like pissing into a storm force wind. Unsatisfactory and invariably messy.

The professor was now sporting a badly sprained wrist and two broken ribs as testimony to the fact that amateur heroics were invariably a bad idea. Ryan had left the rest of the team either fussing round Cutter or pacifying Lester, while he’d checked on his own lads. He'd delivered a short homily on the inadvisability of getting in the way of a wildly swinging thyreophoran’s tail, then had headed back to the hotel, on the pretext of having a report to write.

Clothes followed his kit onto the chair in an untidy heap and he headed into the bathroom for a much needed shower.

The water was warm, no-one had actually died, and after five minutes, Ryan’s mood started to improve, even though the events of the afternoon were still playing out in slow-motion in his head.

Adrenaline spiked again when he remembered Stephen’s mad scramble to reach the assault rifle which had been knocked out of Finn’s hand by the spiked tail. Hart had managed to put a tightly grouped hail of bullets into the creature’s head scant seconds before it got the chance to finish trampling Cutter into concrete floor of an underground car park.

How the stupid scotch git had the nerve to rip his long-suffering assistant off a strip for doing something designed to save his life, Ryan would never know. The soldier sighed, one hand dipping lower to rub shower gel around his cock and balls, before he soaped his bruised arse carefully. Hitting the edge of that concrete pillar, while diving backwards to avoid being flattened by a tail that seemed to have developed a mind of its own, had been bloody painful, but at least he’d recovered fast enough to drag a semi-conscious Connor out of immediate danger. He’d have a bloody big bruise to show for his own carelessness tomorrow, but at least the student had survived.

The soldier’s cock twitched, half-hard from the adrenaline still surging in his system at the memories. Eyes closed under the stream of water, Ryan curled his fingers round himself and started to stroke. It felt good. It had been months since he’d had a proper shag. His fingers drifted lazily up and down his rapidly hardening cock, remembering the hasty coupling in an airport hotel with an old friend from the Balkans, who’d been delayed by snow, of all things, passing through Heathrow on his way back to the States.

A squirt of shower gel reduced the friction, allowing a slower build up of pleasure. Ryan leant back against the tiles and continued to play with his cock and balls, his thoughts drifting from an all too rapid fuck nearly three months ago to his current job: riding shotgun for a bunch of crazy dinosaur-hunting scientists.

Christ, if anyone had told him a year ago that he’d end up starring in a cross between the X Files and Jurassic Park, he would have laughed in their face and told them to keep taking the tablets. But now? Now, it was different. He’d seen things that weren’t meant to exist outside of a museum display and he’d even taken a trip umpteen million years into the past.

He grinned, remembering Cutter’s face when he’d dropped him back in the Permian. Stubborn bastard hadn’t expected Ryan to play him at his own game. Had probably thought he was just some knuckle-dragging grunt conditioned to take orders from anyone in authority.

Ryan ran his fingers in small circles over the sensitive head of his cock, teasing the slit, a small shiver of pleasure hitting him in the small of his back.

Cutter might be a pain at times, but Stephen Hart wasn’t too bad. He could shoot better than most of Ryan’s own lads and he tracked better than the lot of them put together. Good looking too. Ryan’s grin deepened and he started stroking harder. There was something about cobalt eyes framed by ridiculously long black lashes that went straight to Ryan’s groin every time he saw the bloke. It was a miracle none of the lads had noticed so far.

Hart had a disconcerting tendency to wave his denim clad arse in the air when he was bending down, staring at footprints or broken twigs. That did it for Ryan, every time, especially when the guy’s tee shirt rode up, displaying smooth tanned skin and no visible sign of underwear. There had been times when he’d seriously considered diving off for a quick wank in the bushes, under the guise of needing to take a piss, but there were usually too many blokes around to be sure of privacy for long enough.

Ryan was thrusting into his own fist now, eyes still closed, the water cascading over his head and shoulders, hitting the head of his cock. Groping blindly with his right hand, Ryan found the smaller shower head and managed to switch it on. He held it close to him, letting the water play directly over his cock and balls, driving small needle sharp spikes of pleasure into his body.

He wondered what it would be like to run his hands through Stephen Hart’s short black hair while the guy sucked Ryan’s cock. The soldier almost laughed aloud. Hell, way to jump the gun, for sure. Especially since he didn’t as yet have any evidence that Hart was even interested in blokes, although he did get closer to Cutter quicker than you could say personal space, given half a chance. The more rational part of Ryan’s brain suspected that habit was simply due to the fact that the pair of them had got pretty close since Cutter’s wife had buggered off to chase a prehistoric dream, but the part of him that occasionally hankered after more than just a quick screw between assignments still hoped he might be in with a chance, if the opportunity ever arose.

He was getting closer to the edge now. The smaller shower head dropped unheeded into the ceramic tray with a clatter, water spraying up Ryan’s leg. He swiped a hand through his own armpit, gathering some gel suds, to ease the movement of his calloused fingers on his cock.

With the memory of bright azure eyes dancing in his mind, the soldier let out a low groan as he shoved his cock up into his hand a final time and then he was coming hard, with spine curving force. The sharp pleasure of orgasm finally drove the last shards of tension out of his body.

Ryan leant back against the wall, panting, letting the water wash him clean.

Now if he could only get Stephen Hart to wank him off like that, he’d really know he’d landed on his feet with this crazy posting.

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From:

beren-writes.livejournal.com

You really know how to write hot wanking! I don't know who Ryan is either, but my mind conjures some nice options ::g::

From:

Fic, Wishful Thinking, Ryan (Stephen), 18

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