Fic, Acknowledged, Ryan/Lester, 18
Jun. 26th, 2020 06:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Acknowledged
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Ryan/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : It’s been a bad day and Ryan really needs a drink.
A/N : Sequel to Anonymous.
Ryan stamped into his soulless flat, kicking the door closed with the heel of his boot.
The loss of a man under his command always hurt, made worse by the fact that he hadn’t even had a chance to get to know him properly until he’d been lost millions of years ago on the other side of an anomaly. Adding insult to injury, his body had turned up dead in a flooded basement, used by Helen bloody Cutter to send a come-find-me message to her husband, who’d naturally gone running.
Bringing the woman into custody had given him some satisfaction, but it didn’t make up for the fact that the Regiment’s welfare officer would be delivering the death knock tomorrow morning to Clark’s wife in a suburban semi on the outskirts of Birmingham. She’d never learn where, why or how he’d died. Neither would his two children. There would be the usual platitudes about serving his country, died bravely etbloodycetera.
Never marry a fucking soldier.
Ryan stripped quickly and showered before padding naked into the kitchen, cursing when he realised that he hadn’t had chance to stock the fucking fridge up and, to make matters worse, there was no booze in the flat, either. Not even a solitary can of beer. The best he could come up with was a cheese sandwich, and even then he had to pick the green bits off the bread.
“Fuck it.”
He threw some clothes on, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and headed out. The walk helped to clear his head and, almost before he realised what he was doing, Ryan was walking into the pleasantly darkened interior of the Waterloo Club, the same one he’d visited on the night he’d arrived in London. The club where he’d ended up fucking and being fucked by his boss. To the man’s credit, Lester kept things strictly professional.
Ryan ordered a beer and a large whisky from the same jailbait barman, drank the whisky in one and pushed the glass over for a refill.
“Bad day?” the lad enquired. His dark eyes were sympathetic, and Ryan found himself wishing he had fewer scruples when it came to age.
“You could say that.”
He settled himself on a stool and looked around the club wondering what his chances of pulling were. Unfortunately, everyone he could see seemed to be paired up, and Ryan wasn’t in the mood for a threesome, even though the disabled bog was plenty big enough. He slaked his thirst on the beer and took a second whisky at a more sedate pace.
He was about to order again when the door opened and Lester walked in, wearing a green cashmere sweater that had seen better days over a pair of dark jeans, a far cry from the sharp Savile Row suits and flashy silk ties he wore in the office. Ryan promptly regretted his choice of drinking establishment. This was probably going to be fucking awkward.
Lester sauntered casually to the bar with all the fluid confident grace of cat and the same air of having precisely no fucks to give about what Ryan or anyone else thought about him.
He raised a polite eyebrow at Ryan. “My round, I think.”
“Thanks.” Ryan wasn’t sure what else to say, so he left it at that.
Lester ordered another pint for Ryan along with the seemingly obligatory whisky chaser, and a large one for himself. He picked up his drink and inclined his head in the direction of a discreet corner table. Ryan followed. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad after all
“I’m sorry about the loss of Clark today,” Lester said quietly.
Ryan was surprised Lester even knew the soldier’s name. He just nodded, accepting the quiet sincerity of the words.
“Did you get anything useful out of Mrs Cutter?” he asked, equally quietly.
“I’ve known sexually transmitted diseases more useful than that fucking woman.”
“So what now?”
Lester shrugged in obvious frustration. “We let the bitch stew for a while.”
“Cutter won’t like that.”
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck what Cutter thinks?”
Ryan grinned. The hawkish look on Lester’s face had just made his cock twitch in anticipation. He stood up. “Another whisky?”
“Make it two.”
Ryan took that to mean two doubles and asked the lad behind the bar to pour them into the same glass. Without being asked, the same got poured for him. The alcohol was starting to do its work and Ryan was already feeling the hard knot of tension that had taken up residence under his rib cage beginning to dissipate.
“What do you think of the Scooby Gang?” Lester asked as he sipped the whisky.
Ryan thought for a minute before delivering his verdict. “Cutter’s still in love with his wife. Hart’s in love with Cutter. Temple wants to get into Maitland’s knickers. Maitland wants a shag from Hart.”
Lester gave a decidedly inelegant snort of laughter. “How terribly complicated.” He took another drink, staring appraisingly at Ryan. “Shall we stop dancing around each other like a couple of frustrated virgins on a first date?”
“Second date,” Ryan said, wearing his blandest expression.
Lester rolled his eyes and stood up. “Bring your drink.”
No one took the slightest bit of notice as they made their way through the bar, drinks in hand, to the same unmarked disabled toilet. Lester balanced his glass on top of the condom dispenser and unselfconsciously unzipped his fly to use the spotlessly clean toilet for its intended purpose.
Ryan leaned against the wall and watched him, feeling his cock already hardening. The sight of the normally immaculate Lester quite deliberately pissing in front of him was a very definite turn on.
When he’d finished, Lester tucked his cock away, zipped up and thoroughly washed and dried his hands, before picking up his glass again and taking another drink. Ryan kept his features studiously neutral as he waited for Lester to make the first move.
“Are you clean, captain?”
“Apart from you, I’ve not had a fuck in seven months,” Ryan said. “But I don’t bareback on a second date.”
“Nor do I. But I hate the taste of latex.”
“So do I.”
“Then it’s fortunate I’m equally careful.”
With his free hand, Ryan unzipped his jeans and freed his hard cock.
Lester eyed it with unconcealed interest before stalking over to Ryan and sinking gracefully to his knees with a muttered curse about the hardness of the tile floor. Ryan grinned and shrugged off his padded jacket and held it out.
“An officer and a gentleman,” Lester murmured, his tone amused.
“I’ll put the cleaning bill on expenses.”
After arranging the folded jacket to his satisfaction, Lester leaned forward and licked a long slow strip up the underside of Ryan’s cock. Ryan’s grip on the whisky glass tightened as Lester’s long fingers encircled his cock and stripped his foreskin back to fully expose the swollen head.
He watched as Lester slowly and very deliberately licked the bead of pre-come beading at his slit before enveloping Ryan in the warm, wet heat of a mouth that could flay the skin off a man – or woman, Lester was an equal opportunities bastard – at ten paces.
Lester swirled his tongue around him then went to work sucking his cock and driving every single thought out of Ryan’s head apart from the hot wet slide of mouth and tongue and a delicious suction that set every nerve in his body on fire. Ryan fought hard not to just start thrusting into the clever mouth, taking his own pleasure quick and dirty. He drew in a shaky breath, held back, and let Lester do the work, as his boss’ hand joined his mouth in the slip and slide of skin, lips and tongue. All at once it was both almost too much and too little. He wanted to run his hands through Lester’s hair and hold him steady while he fucked his mouth, chasing oblivion in pleasure like a dream of heaven.
Ryan was torn between wanting to watch and wanting to just close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere other than the disabled bog in a backstreet London club with at least half the clientele knowing exactly what they were doing.
With a deliberately slow swirl of his tongue, Lester pulled back from a moment and murmured, “Stop thinking, you’re giving me a bloody headache.”
Ryan gave a startled laugh and took a large mouthful of the whisky, holding it for a moment before letting it trickle down his throat, leaving a warm trail to mark its passing.
Lester’s mouth closed over him again and this time Ryan allowed let himself float on a cloud of endorphins as his cock slid deeper into Lester’s willing mouth and receptive throat and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a groan, he started to thrust, and Lester managed to take it without gagging. With a fleeting thought that the man must be able to breathe through his fucking ears. Ryan relinquished control and let Lester set the pace as sensation piled in around him with the force of a ruby scrum until all that was left was the flames of pleasure fanning to a burning fire inside him.
He was close, so fucking close, his hips pushing against the long, strong fingers that held him in place, then a light scrape of teeth along his hard shaft sent him spiralling over the edge, coming so hard that it finally drove every dark thought out of his head as Lester sucked his cock with a quiet intensity, swallowing every drop with no sign of distaste, his thumbs stroking over Ryan’s hipbones in a way that could almost be described as tender if it wasn’t for the utterly inscrutable expression on the man’s aquiline face.
Ryan held the whisky glass down to Lester’s lips and if Lester noticed the slight tremor in his hand, he gave no sign of it. Lester took a mouthful then sat back on his heels as Ryan straightened his clothing and zipped up his jeans.
Thanks sounded inadequate, but Ryan said it anyway.
They stayed like that for a moment, passing the glass between them in a gesture that somehow seemed even more intimate than coming in his boss’ mouth.
When he thought his unsteady legs might just be able to move again, Ryan stood up straight and moved away from the wall, letting Lester take his place. Before dropping to his knees to return the favour, Ryan picked up the whisky glass Lester had left on top of the condom machine and exchanged it for the empty one.
The padding from his jacket didn’t entire override the hardness of the tiles, but with small shivers of pleasure still wandering aimlessly around his body, it was hardly a consideration. Ryan pulled down Lester’s zip and freed his hard cock from a pair of dark green silk boxers that matched his old cashmere sweater.
Ryan looked up and grinned. “Classy.”
“I’m sure there’s something in the Home Office HR manual that says don’t let the hired help get in a position to take the piss out of your underwear.”
“Page 72,” Ryan said. “Just before the bit about not letting the hired help suck your dick.”
“Must have missed that page,” Lester said, his voice and expression as disinterested as he had been when discussing staffing rotas. “Was there something in there about not letting the hired help come in your mouth?”
“Page 84, paragraph 3, subclause d.”
“Thank you, Ryan. I’m sure the Minister will be delighted you’ve taken such an interest in the paperwork.”
Ryan wrapped a gun callused hand around Lester’s hard shaft and brought the head to his mouth, tonguing the slit like a cat lapping a much-wanted saucer of milk. He felt a shudder of pure need run through Lester’s body and wondered when someone had last touched him like that somewhere other than in an anonymous hook-up spot. As he let the silky flesh slide between his lips, Ryan closed his eyes and just concentrated on the feel of the hard cock in his mouth and trying to learn what pushed Lester’s buttons.
On the few occasions he’d done this before as a trade for his own pleasure, he’d just used hand and mouth fast and without finesse, knowing that most blokes in this situation were already so hyped up they’d just shoot their load after a couple of minutes without much provocation. But this was the first time he’d agreed to suck a cock in this sort of circumstance without the shield of a condom. He might take risks for a living, but he wasn’t fucking stupid.
The only problem with Lester was that the man was so sodding composed that Ryan honestly couldn’t tell whether he was even enjoying this. Only that first involuntary shudder had given him away, but after that, Lester had slammed his defences firmly back in place, affecting the same languid pose that Ryan had come to recognise at 20 paces. He even continued to take small sips of the whisky with rock steady hands.
Ryan took it as a challenge and proceeded to use every trick in his not inconsiderable armoury to break through the invisible barrier wrapped around the enigma that was Sir James Lester. He found the first chink when he drew back long enough to lick Lester’s slit again, teasing the sensitive head with the tip of his tongue. He felt a slight tremor run down Lester’s legs then set to work exploiting that knowledge to the full, discovering that it was the featherlight touches that looked to be the ones most capable of bringing out the full body shivers he was aiming for.
Lester still hadn’t relaxed, though, and after another couple of minutes, Ryan took a leaf out of the other man’s books and sat back on his heels and looked up to find Lester was staring down at him, his grey-green eyes guarded.
“You know what you said to me about stopping thinking? Well, that cuts two ways. And if I’m doing something you don’t like, then tell me. Or of you want something I’m not doing, then say so.”
“It’s fine,” Lester said, his voice rough, hardly surprising after having had Ryan’s cock halfway down his throat.
Ryan allowed himself a slight sigh of exasperation. “You’ve just sucked my brains out of my dick and made me come so hard I forgot my own fucking name. I think I owe you something slightly better than fine.”
Lester lifted the whisky glass to his lips and let some of the amber liquid trickle between swollen lips.
Deciding he wasn’t going to get any helpful suggestions, Ryan re-ran the last few minutes in his head, before moistening his tongue and running it up the slit again. He was rewarded with a very faint indrawn breath. He did it again, slow and wet, even teasing the tip of tongue inside, tasting the salty pre-come.
This time the hitch in Lester’s breathing was unmistakeable. It looked like he’d definitely found the right way through the man’s stainless steel armour. All he was going to need was patience, and he had that in abundance. Keeping up a steady but light movement of his hand up and down Lester’s shaft, Ryan simply concentrated on tonguing the pink slit and sucking lightly on the head, keeping his mouth wet and soft until gradually he felt the tension drain out of Lester’s wiry body to be replaced by more of those small shivers of pure pleasure.
Lester’s breathing was growing more ragged now, but still Ryan kept his touch light and slow, hoping that none the other customers would get impatient enough to bang on the door before he’s achieved his objective.
A few heartbeats later, Lester’s control broke and with a stifled groan, he ran the fingers of one hand through Ryan’s short hair and pulled him down further onto his cock. If he hadn’t been in possession of a mouthful of hard dick, Ryan would have smiled. He sucked harder and took everything Lester had to give, letting him fuck his mouth and throat. Ryan steadied himself with his hands on Lester’s hips and regained some control, pulling back long enough to tongue Lester again.
That was all it took. With a gasp, Lester let go completely, his cock pulsing in Ryan’s mouth as he came hard. Ryan swallowed and gentled Lester through his climax with hands and mouth, feeling tremors turn to trembling as he finally found release.
When he no long felt like he was holding the man up, Ryan sat back and looked up at him, to find the usually impassive eyes stripped of their defences, open and unguarded in a way Ryan hadn’t expected.
With a shaky hand, Lester held the whisky glass down to him.
Ryan let him put the glass to his lips and feed him a mouthful.
“Thank you.” Lester’s voice was still rough, but there was a softness there now, as well as a hint of wariness.
A lightbulb turned on in Ryan’s brain and before he had time to think, he said, “No one’s ever used their mouth on you gently, have they?”
For a moment, Ryan thought he’d fucked up badly, then Lester’s wariness faded into a soft sigh. “My ex-wife was strongly of the opinion that cocks and mouths didn’t belong together, and gentleness isn’t exactly the defining feature of encounters such as these.”
Ryan stood up and leaned next to him on the wall as they traded the glass back and forward between them.
“My round, I think,” Lester said after draining the last drop of whisky. “Before we get thrown out for outstaying our welcome.”
“I like a man who stands his round,” Ryan said, hoping his eyes said more than his words.
Lester’s slight smile was enough to him he hadn’t fucked up.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Ryan/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : It’s been a bad day and Ryan really needs a drink.
A/N : Sequel to Anonymous.
Ryan stamped into his soulless flat, kicking the door closed with the heel of his boot.
The loss of a man under his command always hurt, made worse by the fact that he hadn’t even had a chance to get to know him properly until he’d been lost millions of years ago on the other side of an anomaly. Adding insult to injury, his body had turned up dead in a flooded basement, used by Helen bloody Cutter to send a come-find-me message to her husband, who’d naturally gone running.
Bringing the woman into custody had given him some satisfaction, but it didn’t make up for the fact that the Regiment’s welfare officer would be delivering the death knock tomorrow morning to Clark’s wife in a suburban semi on the outskirts of Birmingham. She’d never learn where, why or how he’d died. Neither would his two children. There would be the usual platitudes about serving his country, died bravely etbloodycetera.
Never marry a fucking soldier.
Ryan stripped quickly and showered before padding naked into the kitchen, cursing when he realised that he hadn’t had chance to stock the fucking fridge up and, to make matters worse, there was no booze in the flat, either. Not even a solitary can of beer. The best he could come up with was a cheese sandwich, and even then he had to pick the green bits off the bread.
“Fuck it.”
He threw some clothes on, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and headed out. The walk helped to clear his head and, almost before he realised what he was doing, Ryan was walking into the pleasantly darkened interior of the Waterloo Club, the same one he’d visited on the night he’d arrived in London. The club where he’d ended up fucking and being fucked by his boss. To the man’s credit, Lester kept things strictly professional.
Ryan ordered a beer and a large whisky from the same jailbait barman, drank the whisky in one and pushed the glass over for a refill.
“Bad day?” the lad enquired. His dark eyes were sympathetic, and Ryan found himself wishing he had fewer scruples when it came to age.
“You could say that.”
He settled himself on a stool and looked around the club wondering what his chances of pulling were. Unfortunately, everyone he could see seemed to be paired up, and Ryan wasn’t in the mood for a threesome, even though the disabled bog was plenty big enough. He slaked his thirst on the beer and took a second whisky at a more sedate pace.
He was about to order again when the door opened and Lester walked in, wearing a green cashmere sweater that had seen better days over a pair of dark jeans, a far cry from the sharp Savile Row suits and flashy silk ties he wore in the office. Ryan promptly regretted his choice of drinking establishment. This was probably going to be fucking awkward.
Lester sauntered casually to the bar with all the fluid confident grace of cat and the same air of having precisely no fucks to give about what Ryan or anyone else thought about him.
He raised a polite eyebrow at Ryan. “My round, I think.”
“Thanks.” Ryan wasn’t sure what else to say, so he left it at that.
Lester ordered another pint for Ryan along with the seemingly obligatory whisky chaser, and a large one for himself. He picked up his drink and inclined his head in the direction of a discreet corner table. Ryan followed. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad after all
“I’m sorry about the loss of Clark today,” Lester said quietly.
Ryan was surprised Lester even knew the soldier’s name. He just nodded, accepting the quiet sincerity of the words.
“Did you get anything useful out of Mrs Cutter?” he asked, equally quietly.
“I’ve known sexually transmitted diseases more useful than that fucking woman.”
“So what now?”
Lester shrugged in obvious frustration. “We let the bitch stew for a while.”
“Cutter won’t like that.”
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck what Cutter thinks?”
Ryan grinned. The hawkish look on Lester’s face had just made his cock twitch in anticipation. He stood up. “Another whisky?”
“Make it two.”
Ryan took that to mean two doubles and asked the lad behind the bar to pour them into the same glass. Without being asked, the same got poured for him. The alcohol was starting to do its work and Ryan was already feeling the hard knot of tension that had taken up residence under his rib cage beginning to dissipate.
“What do you think of the Scooby Gang?” Lester asked as he sipped the whisky.
Ryan thought for a minute before delivering his verdict. “Cutter’s still in love with his wife. Hart’s in love with Cutter. Temple wants to get into Maitland’s knickers. Maitland wants a shag from Hart.”
Lester gave a decidedly inelegant snort of laughter. “How terribly complicated.” He took another drink, staring appraisingly at Ryan. “Shall we stop dancing around each other like a couple of frustrated virgins on a first date?”
“Second date,” Ryan said, wearing his blandest expression.
Lester rolled his eyes and stood up. “Bring your drink.”
No one took the slightest bit of notice as they made their way through the bar, drinks in hand, to the same unmarked disabled toilet. Lester balanced his glass on top of the condom dispenser and unselfconsciously unzipped his fly to use the spotlessly clean toilet for its intended purpose.
Ryan leaned against the wall and watched him, feeling his cock already hardening. The sight of the normally immaculate Lester quite deliberately pissing in front of him was a very definite turn on.
When he’d finished, Lester tucked his cock away, zipped up and thoroughly washed and dried his hands, before picking up his glass again and taking another drink. Ryan kept his features studiously neutral as he waited for Lester to make the first move.
“Are you clean, captain?”
“Apart from you, I’ve not had a fuck in seven months,” Ryan said. “But I don’t bareback on a second date.”
“Nor do I. But I hate the taste of latex.”
“So do I.”
“Then it’s fortunate I’m equally careful.”
With his free hand, Ryan unzipped his jeans and freed his hard cock.
Lester eyed it with unconcealed interest before stalking over to Ryan and sinking gracefully to his knees with a muttered curse about the hardness of the tile floor. Ryan grinned and shrugged off his padded jacket and held it out.
“An officer and a gentleman,” Lester murmured, his tone amused.
“I’ll put the cleaning bill on expenses.”
After arranging the folded jacket to his satisfaction, Lester leaned forward and licked a long slow strip up the underside of Ryan’s cock. Ryan’s grip on the whisky glass tightened as Lester’s long fingers encircled his cock and stripped his foreskin back to fully expose the swollen head.
He watched as Lester slowly and very deliberately licked the bead of pre-come beading at his slit before enveloping Ryan in the warm, wet heat of a mouth that could flay the skin off a man – or woman, Lester was an equal opportunities bastard – at ten paces.
Lester swirled his tongue around him then went to work sucking his cock and driving every single thought out of Ryan’s head apart from the hot wet slide of mouth and tongue and a delicious suction that set every nerve in his body on fire. Ryan fought hard not to just start thrusting into the clever mouth, taking his own pleasure quick and dirty. He drew in a shaky breath, held back, and let Lester do the work, as his boss’ hand joined his mouth in the slip and slide of skin, lips and tongue. All at once it was both almost too much and too little. He wanted to run his hands through Lester’s hair and hold him steady while he fucked his mouth, chasing oblivion in pleasure like a dream of heaven.
Ryan was torn between wanting to watch and wanting to just close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere other than the disabled bog in a backstreet London club with at least half the clientele knowing exactly what they were doing.
With a deliberately slow swirl of his tongue, Lester pulled back from a moment and murmured, “Stop thinking, you’re giving me a bloody headache.”
Ryan gave a startled laugh and took a large mouthful of the whisky, holding it for a moment before letting it trickle down his throat, leaving a warm trail to mark its passing.
Lester’s mouth closed over him again and this time Ryan allowed let himself float on a cloud of endorphins as his cock slid deeper into Lester’s willing mouth and receptive throat and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a groan, he started to thrust, and Lester managed to take it without gagging. With a fleeting thought that the man must be able to breathe through his fucking ears. Ryan relinquished control and let Lester set the pace as sensation piled in around him with the force of a ruby scrum until all that was left was the flames of pleasure fanning to a burning fire inside him.
He was close, so fucking close, his hips pushing against the long, strong fingers that held him in place, then a light scrape of teeth along his hard shaft sent him spiralling over the edge, coming so hard that it finally drove every dark thought out of his head as Lester sucked his cock with a quiet intensity, swallowing every drop with no sign of distaste, his thumbs stroking over Ryan’s hipbones in a way that could almost be described as tender if it wasn’t for the utterly inscrutable expression on the man’s aquiline face.
Ryan held the whisky glass down to Lester’s lips and if Lester noticed the slight tremor in his hand, he gave no sign of it. Lester took a mouthful then sat back on his heels as Ryan straightened his clothing and zipped up his jeans.
Thanks sounded inadequate, but Ryan said it anyway.
They stayed like that for a moment, passing the glass between them in a gesture that somehow seemed even more intimate than coming in his boss’ mouth.
When he thought his unsteady legs might just be able to move again, Ryan stood up straight and moved away from the wall, letting Lester take his place. Before dropping to his knees to return the favour, Ryan picked up the whisky glass Lester had left on top of the condom machine and exchanged it for the empty one.
The padding from his jacket didn’t entire override the hardness of the tiles, but with small shivers of pleasure still wandering aimlessly around his body, it was hardly a consideration. Ryan pulled down Lester’s zip and freed his hard cock from a pair of dark green silk boxers that matched his old cashmere sweater.
Ryan looked up and grinned. “Classy.”
“I’m sure there’s something in the Home Office HR manual that says don’t let the hired help get in a position to take the piss out of your underwear.”
“Page 72,” Ryan said. “Just before the bit about not letting the hired help suck your dick.”
“Must have missed that page,” Lester said, his voice and expression as disinterested as he had been when discussing staffing rotas. “Was there something in there about not letting the hired help come in your mouth?”
“Page 84, paragraph 3, subclause d.”
“Thank you, Ryan. I’m sure the Minister will be delighted you’ve taken such an interest in the paperwork.”
Ryan wrapped a gun callused hand around Lester’s hard shaft and brought the head to his mouth, tonguing the slit like a cat lapping a much-wanted saucer of milk. He felt a shudder of pure need run through Lester’s body and wondered when someone had last touched him like that somewhere other than in an anonymous hook-up spot. As he let the silky flesh slide between his lips, Ryan closed his eyes and just concentrated on the feel of the hard cock in his mouth and trying to learn what pushed Lester’s buttons.
On the few occasions he’d done this before as a trade for his own pleasure, he’d just used hand and mouth fast and without finesse, knowing that most blokes in this situation were already so hyped up they’d just shoot their load after a couple of minutes without much provocation. But this was the first time he’d agreed to suck a cock in this sort of circumstance without the shield of a condom. He might take risks for a living, but he wasn’t fucking stupid.
The only problem with Lester was that the man was so sodding composed that Ryan honestly couldn’t tell whether he was even enjoying this. Only that first involuntary shudder had given him away, but after that, Lester had slammed his defences firmly back in place, affecting the same languid pose that Ryan had come to recognise at 20 paces. He even continued to take small sips of the whisky with rock steady hands.
Ryan took it as a challenge and proceeded to use every trick in his not inconsiderable armoury to break through the invisible barrier wrapped around the enigma that was Sir James Lester. He found the first chink when he drew back long enough to lick Lester’s slit again, teasing the sensitive head with the tip of his tongue. He felt a slight tremor run down Lester’s legs then set to work exploiting that knowledge to the full, discovering that it was the featherlight touches that looked to be the ones most capable of bringing out the full body shivers he was aiming for.
Lester still hadn’t relaxed, though, and after another couple of minutes, Ryan took a leaf out of the other man’s books and sat back on his heels and looked up to find Lester was staring down at him, his grey-green eyes guarded.
“You know what you said to me about stopping thinking? Well, that cuts two ways. And if I’m doing something you don’t like, then tell me. Or of you want something I’m not doing, then say so.”
“It’s fine,” Lester said, his voice rough, hardly surprising after having had Ryan’s cock halfway down his throat.
Ryan allowed himself a slight sigh of exasperation. “You’ve just sucked my brains out of my dick and made me come so hard I forgot my own fucking name. I think I owe you something slightly better than fine.”
Lester lifted the whisky glass to his lips and let some of the amber liquid trickle between swollen lips.
Deciding he wasn’t going to get any helpful suggestions, Ryan re-ran the last few minutes in his head, before moistening his tongue and running it up the slit again. He was rewarded with a very faint indrawn breath. He did it again, slow and wet, even teasing the tip of tongue inside, tasting the salty pre-come.
This time the hitch in Lester’s breathing was unmistakeable. It looked like he’d definitely found the right way through the man’s stainless steel armour. All he was going to need was patience, and he had that in abundance. Keeping up a steady but light movement of his hand up and down Lester’s shaft, Ryan simply concentrated on tonguing the pink slit and sucking lightly on the head, keeping his mouth wet and soft until gradually he felt the tension drain out of Lester’s wiry body to be replaced by more of those small shivers of pure pleasure.
Lester’s breathing was growing more ragged now, but still Ryan kept his touch light and slow, hoping that none the other customers would get impatient enough to bang on the door before he’s achieved his objective.
A few heartbeats later, Lester’s control broke and with a stifled groan, he ran the fingers of one hand through Ryan’s short hair and pulled him down further onto his cock. If he hadn’t been in possession of a mouthful of hard dick, Ryan would have smiled. He sucked harder and took everything Lester had to give, letting him fuck his mouth and throat. Ryan steadied himself with his hands on Lester’s hips and regained some control, pulling back long enough to tongue Lester again.
That was all it took. With a gasp, Lester let go completely, his cock pulsing in Ryan’s mouth as he came hard. Ryan swallowed and gentled Lester through his climax with hands and mouth, feeling tremors turn to trembling as he finally found release.
When he no long felt like he was holding the man up, Ryan sat back and looked up at him, to find the usually impassive eyes stripped of their defences, open and unguarded in a way Ryan hadn’t expected.
With a shaky hand, Lester held the whisky glass down to him.
Ryan let him put the glass to his lips and feed him a mouthful.
“Thank you.” Lester’s voice was still rough, but there was a softness there now, as well as a hint of wariness.
A lightbulb turned on in Ryan’s brain and before he had time to think, he said, “No one’s ever used their mouth on you gently, have they?”
For a moment, Ryan thought he’d fucked up badly, then Lester’s wariness faded into a soft sigh. “My ex-wife was strongly of the opinion that cocks and mouths didn’t belong together, and gentleness isn’t exactly the defining feature of encounters such as these.”
Ryan stood up and leaned next to him on the wall as they traded the glass back and forward between them.
“My round, I think,” Lester said after draining the last drop of whisky. “Before we get thrown out for outstaying our welcome.”
“I like a man who stands his round,” Ryan said, hoping his eyes said more than his words.
Lester’s slight smile was enough to him he hadn’t fucked up.