fredbassett | Fic, Ten Days Later, Part 1, Stephen/Ryan Series, 18

Title : Ten Days Later, Part 1
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Lester, Lyle, Amanda Thornton, Kermit
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine, (except the ones that are) no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None.
Summary : Set after the events of Falls the Shadow
A/N : Offered as a birthday present for

verito295 and with apologies to all the others on my f-list with birthdays in May. I blame a bad attack of post major epic-itus. The remainder of this series can be found here

Lyle rolled over in bed, enjoying the feel of crisp cotton bedding against his skin. The slight soreness in his arse was a pleasant reminder of the welcome he’d received from his lover the previous night.

Sir James Lester lay sprawled next to him in the double bed in a spare room at the Thornton’s house, still asleep. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. The dark stubble made his face seem even paler by comparison, and he’d lost weight.

For Lyle and his companions it had been no more than five hours from the time the anomaly had closed behind Ryan and the kids, trapping the rest of them in the past to the moment when they’d staggered into the yard behind the house, covered in mud, blood and the ubiquitous dinosaur guts. But for Lester and Ryan ten long agonising days had passed, with little or no hope of a happy ending.

Ten days in which they had received reports of every anomaly in the area closing.

Ten days in which both men had only slept when driven to their beds by total exhaustion and only eaten when a coalition of Ditzy, Claudia and Amanda Thornton had forced them to the table.

By all accounts, Tarnthwaite hadn’t exactly been a barrel of laughs while they’d been gone.

Lyle slid out from under the duvet and padded silently into the en suite. He had a morning hard on, a mouth like the bottom of a parrot’s cage and armpits that smelt like a Greek wrestler’s crotch.

The Special Forces lieutenant grinned. His normally fastidious lover wouldn’t be quite so keen to ignore matters of such pressing personal hygiene in the cold light of day.

The shower was hot and relaxing, the toothpaste and mouth wash were pleasantly minty and inside of ten minutes, Lyle was starting to feel more like a human being.

Lester slept on.

Lyle grabbed a bathrobe from behind the door and headed down to the kitchen.

He found Amanda Thornton busy making coffee, while Kermit sliced bread, one handed, for toast. His other arm was still heavily bandaged.

“Neat trick,” said Lyle, admiringly.

“He’s improved,” smiled Amanda, giving Lyle a peck on the cheek, “but it’s fortunate I’ve got a bread-making machine. It’s taken him a lot of practice so far. How’s James?”

Lyle returned the kiss, and the smile. “Asleep, and I’d like to be there when he wakes up. Can I grab some coffee for both of us?”

Armed with a large pot of freshly brewed coffee and the welcome news that Blade was out of theatre and out of danger, Lyle headed back upstairs.

Lester had turned over in his sleep, and now lay face down on the bed, with a pillow dragged round under his chin and clutched firmly in one arm. He looked younger in sleep, and surprisingly vulnerable.

Lyle poured two mugs of coffee then gently tugged the duvet off Lester’s shoulders exposing a long, slender body to his appreciative gaze. Sir James Lester didn’t spend a great deal of time in the sun, so a faint of tans didn’t extend beyond his hands and wrists, but he was still a sight worth lingering over.

He drank the first mug of coffee whilst doing nothing more than admiring the view. Lester was a skinny sod, but he was stronger and fitter than he looked, and whilst he still whinged like fuck when he got dragged on a caving trip, he actually had little or no trouble keeping up now. Maybe while they were up here Lyle could get him to revisit a few old haunts ……….

Lester grunted in his sleep and reached out for the non-existent duvet. Lyle ran a hand, still warm from the coffee mug, over the other man’s shoulders and down his back. Lester murmured but didn’t wake up.

The Special Forces lieutenant grinned and drank the second mug, warming both hands, this time. He ran his fingers gently over his lover’s shoulders, massaging lightly, kneading at the knots he found in Lester’s muscles, working gradually lower, until he reached narrow hips and an arse that never failed to get him hard. Now was no exception.

Running his tongue down the hollow of Lester’s back, he tasted the sweat from their exertions the previous night, then he spread the his lover’s arse cheeks and moved lower. A surprised grunt told him that Lester was now awake. Lyle’s tongue lapped at him gently but insistently and his stubble rasped against the sensitive skin of his lover’s inner thighs as he worked his way downwards.

A low moan of pleasure reached his ears. Lyle propped himself up on one elbow and asked, conversationally, “Coffee or more rimming?”

“Can’t I have both?” Lester sounded faintly aggrieved.

Lyle grinned. “Demanding little sod. I’m not your secretary, you know.”

“Lyle, my secretary’s worked for me for ten years, but to my certain knowledge she has never licked my arse, metaphorically or literally. Now pour me some coffee, and go back to what you were doing, there’s a good boy.”

Five minutes later, Lyle reached over and relieved Lester of the coffee mug before it got broken. He deposited it on the bedside table, and grabbed the small bottle of gun oil that they’d been using the previous night.

Lyle’s irritated profanity caused Lester to look round questioningly. “Problem?”

“You could put it like that. What are my chances of getting Kermit to bring up some supplies without him blabbing to the whole unit?”

“Vanishingly small,” admitted Lester. None of the soldiers would pass up the opportunity for a piss take. A moment later, he gave a throaty groan in response to Lyle burrowing a dry finger into his arse. Tongue followed finger, and Lester started to pant, squirming his hips into the bed. “Fetch a towel, Jon. There’s one on the floor somewhere from last night.”

The soldier laughed, breath ghosting across Lester’s arse and raising the small hairs on the back of his legs. The towel was still in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the bed where it had ended up in the early hours of the morning. Using it now seemed pretty pointless. Lyle had already seen some of the stains they’d been responsible for over the last ten hours. He knew he’d end up having to make peace with Mandy later, but for now, pandering to Lester’s sensibilities seemed like the safest course of action.

Lester rolled onto his side, displaying a satisfactorily erect cock. Lyle spread the towel out, taking the opportunity to swipe his tongue up from Lester’s balls to the already leaking head, before he pushed him firmly down.

The lack of gun oil presented a problem.

Saliva made a fairly crappy lube, but he was damned if he was going in search of anything better, not with a cock as hard as his to cause embarrassment if he met anyone in the corridor. No way.

He licked his own finger, and proceeded to loosen Lester up as thoroughly as he knew how. His lover pushed back, still moaning quietly. Lyle’s searching finger found the small, hard nub inside and he was rewarded with a frantic jerk of the other man’s narrow hips.

Lyle nudged Lester’s legs apart and continued the preparation with the single-minded determination that he always applied to the pursuit of pleasure. In less than a minute, he was rewarded with a breathy whine. He liked it when Sir James Lester whined. In Jon Lyle’s experience, it was a very small step from whining to begging, and he liked it even more when Sir James Lester begged.

He drove some more saliva into Lester’s receptive body with his tongue then followed it with two slick fingers. Hips bucked again and the groans were now almost constant. Lyle rubbed harder.

“Fuck me, Jon, for crissake fuck me ………now. Please……..”

Lyle laughed and continued stroking.

“Jon, I’m going to come ……..”

The soldier withdrew his fingers and stared to lick his way around the other man’s arse again, holding Lester open with his thumbs, probing with his tongue. His lover squirmed, muffling small throaty cries in the pillow.

Lyle’s own cock throbbed distractingly. Damn, he was close to coming and he hadn’t even touched himself.

“I meant what I said to Ryan, you know,” Lyle remarked.

Lester groaned, and then words that sounded suspiciously like I love you too got all tangled up in an orgasm that seemed to start, rather surprisingly, as a shiver in the small of his back. Lyle’s fragile control broke. He shifted position with an impressive economy of movement, burying himself deep inside his lover’s straining body, then thrusting himself through his own orgasm, as he nuzzled and bit at Lester’s shoulders and neck. Lester’s body was hot, and tight, his arse spasming around Lyle’s cock.

Lyle’s fears and tension spilled out of him in one long stream of barely coherent words, his hips jerking as each new wave of pleasure hit him harder than the last. He was conscious of hearing I love you and don’t you ever fucking leave me like that again, you inconsiderate bastard and the words sounded sweeter to the soldier’s ears than anything he’d ever heard before. And for once, Lyle failed to deliver anything resembling a flippant remark in return. He settled for breathing, Love you too, into Lester’s ear as he slumped forward, gasping and panting and feeling strangely like a teenager on a first date.

Lester pulled Lyle’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the soldier’s palm.

With after shocks still running through him, Lyle gently withdrew and turned Lester to face him. He’d known what to expect but the sight of tears on the other man’s face still hit him harder than he would have believed possible.

Lyle did a dangerous job. He knew it and Lester knew it. There was always the risk that one day he wouldn’t come back and the worst of it was that right now it could easily be his lover who had the privilege of sending him on that final mission.

He sighed and kissed the tears away. “Not dead yet, sweetie.”

Lester gave the soldier a tired smile. He knew it was time to play the game again, while they both still had some composure left. “Then pour some more bloody coffee and find a dry towel. And eventually, when I’ve fucked you through the mattress, I’ll let you fetch breakfast.”

Lyle licked the tip of Lester’s nose, grinning. “We’re out of gun oil, remember?”

Lester bushed a light kiss across the soldier’s lips. “How could I forget, honeybun? I’ll just have to take a leaf out of your book, won’t I?”

Lyle’s grin deepened.

Sir James Lester had a notoriously sharp tongue, but there were times when Lyle didn’t object to it being used on him. This was one of those times.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

bigtitch.livejournal.com

Sweetie! This is just fabulous! Hot and sweet and a tinge of bitter-sweet there too.
He sighed and kissed the tears away. “Not dead yet, sweetie.”
*melts*

From:

Fic, Ten Days Later, Part 1, Stephen/Ryan Series, 18

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