Fic, Answered, Ryan/Lester, 18
Jul. 10th, 2020 08:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Answered
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Ryan/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : s1.5
Summary : Red blood and white bone is a sight Ryan wants to forget.
A/N : A/N : This follows on from Anonymous, Acknowledged and Accepted.
Ryan took the stairs to his flat two at a time, not wanting to wait for the lift, not wanting to be near anyone else, not trusting himself to be near anyone else.
He’d held it together at the golf course, helping to repatriate the Pteranodon with a smile on his face, despite knowing that one of his men had been ripped to shreds by a flock of fucking flying piranhas. Despite Cutter’s handshakes, Hart’s easy camaraderie, Claudia’s air of concern, Abby’s smiles and Connor’s shy grins, he sometimes felt like a black uniform was some sort of fucking cloak of invisibility.
Another day on this fucking mad assignment and another fucking death knock that had to be delivered by the Regiment’s welfare officer. Another family destroyed.
He stripped off his uniform and dumped it in a heap, throwing on the clothes he’d worn the previous night. He was too wound up to eat and he didn’t trust himself with alcohol feeling like this. He’d known too many soldiers find too much comfort in the bottom of a glass to want to follow that route. He needed to get outside, he needed to clear his head. He needed to stop fucking blaming himself, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
Outside, the shadows of evening were already closing in. Drawn by the lights shining on the dark water of the Thames, Ryan started walking, doing his best to resist the urge to turn to the stone parapet and smash his fist into it until his knuckles bled, using pain to blot out the anger at yet another fucking death. And if the shitweasel of a Minister that Lester had the misfortune to report to ran true to form, the cunt no doubt be complaining about the state of the fucking golf club rather than showing any interest in the two men who had died.
He kept walking, sticking to the riverside as much as possible, barely noticing that anyone coming the other way had started to give him a wide berth. He walked quickly, breaking into a run at times when the tension became unbearable. Before he knew it, he was approaching Blackfriars Bridge and the anger had started to dissipate, leaving him feeling less like punching something harder than his own hand. He turned on his heel and started to walk back to the flat. Maybe by then a drink wouldn’t be such a bad idea …
Twenty minutes later, the imposing, elegant façade of Whitehall Court loomed up on his right. Ryan stopped and stared, then on an impulse he didn’t want to think too closely about, he walked quickly across the road and made for the front of the building.
Lester wasn’t the only one with basic detective skills, but despite what had happened between them three nights ago, Ryan was by no means sure that the man would want him turning up unannounced on his doorstep. That might be going too far, even if his boss had been fucked into the mattress by the hired help and seemed to have enjoyed it.
The sane part of Ryan’s mind told him in no uncertain terms that he should just go back to the flat and take his chances that Lester might turn up. He knew from a phone conversation of Claudia’s he’d overheard before they’d left the golf course that Lester had a late meeting in Whitehall, so there was no guarantee that he’d even be back home by now, but Ryan needed to see him. Needed just to let go, but the idea of someone banging his brains out in the Waterloo held little appeal. Fuck, one night with someone in a proper bed and he was acting like a sodding lovestruck teenager.
The front entrance to one of London’s most up-market addresses was even more imposing than the side of the building that overlooked the river. There was no way Ryan was going to embarrass Lester by giving his name to the uniformed concierge but finding an open and unattended basement service door wasn’t difficult. He quickly made sense of the internal layout and made his way up the back stairs to the third floor, quickly making his way through beautifully carpeted corridors to a cream-painted door marked number 343 on polished brass plate.
Ryan’s nerve abruptly failed. He didn’t know what the fuck he’d been thinking of getting that far. If Lester wanted to see him, he knew where to find him, and he could always phone. He knew the number.
He was about to turn away when the door abruptly opened to reveal Lester, still dressed in the suit he’d been wearing in Marsham Street that morning, pulling on an overcoat.
“Ryan? Why the fuck …?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come…” he quickly turned away, feeling a traitorous flush building up.
“… aren’t you answering your phone?” Lester demanded, overriding Ryan’s apology.
The crack of authority in Lester’s voice brought Ryan up short and he automatically stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled his phone out, staring blankly at an equally blank screen.
“Turned off, or run out of charge?” Lester asked, in a softer tone.
Ryan pressed the button on the side of the phone and watched as it powered up. “Turned off. Sorry.”
Lester sighed. “You’ll find ten missed calls and three voicemails. I’d delete the last one without listening to it. I think I was rude.”
“You only think you were rude?” Ryan’s lips twitched into a smile, despite how fucking stupid he felt.
“All right, I know I was rude. You weren’t answering the phone in the flat either. I was on my way to the Waterloo …” Lester held up an imperious hand to forestall anything Ryan had been about to say. “And no I wasn’t going to be looking for an anonymous fuck …”
“Thank goodness for that, James!” a cut-glass voice declared, as an elderly woman wearing a peacock blue silk dress stepped out of the neighbouring flat. She gave Ryan an appraising look. “Hmm, you look nicer than his bitch of an ex-wife. Took you long enough to come to your senses, James.”
Lester laughed weakly. “Lady Emily Fanshawe meet Captain Tom Ryan.”
Lady Fanshawe held her hand out and for a moment Ryan wasn’t sure if he was meant to kiss it or shake it, so he settled for the latter, with a slight bow thrown in for good measure.
“You look like you need a stiff drink, young man,” she told him shrewdly. “James, you can tell me all about him over a gin and tonic tomorrow night. Bring him to tea the weekend after next.”
“You’ll only eat him alive.”
“He looks like he can take care of himself.”
“You could try offering him cake as well as tea. That might do the trick.”
“Cake’s good,” Ryan agreed.
“Splendid. That’s settled then. Now if you’ll forgive me, I have the world’s most tedious cocktail party to attend.”
“Try not to kill anyone.”
“I make no promises, dear boy, you know my views on the Foreign Secretary.” With that, she sashayed elegantly towards the lift, shooting them a backwards glance of equal parts fondness and amusement.
“She’s serious about the tea and cake,” Lester said.
“Were you?”
“Yes, now come in. She was right about you looking like you need a drink.”
Lester took Ryan’s jacket and slipped off his own coat, hanging them both up in a large cupboard in the wood-panelled hall that led to a large room with huge windows overlooking the Thames. The room was elegant without being imposing, soft lighting highlighting rich rugs on the floor and tasteful art on the walls. Ryan walked over to the window and found himself staring directly at the multi-coloured lights on the slowly revolving London Eye. The place must have been worth a fucking fortune.
Strong arms slipped around his waist and a soft voice said, “I’m sorry about Keehan. That must have been vile.”
“The little fuckers ripped him to shreds.”
Lester’s arms held him close. “I only found out when I got out of that fucking meeting. I rang you as soon as I heard.”
“And kept ringing …”
“Definitely don’t listen to that last message.”
“No promises …”
“Tell me what you need, Ryan.”
“Fuck me until I forget the sight of red flesh and white bone.”
“I’ll do my best.” Lester walked over to a mahogany drinks cabinet and poured a large glass of brandy, holding it out to him. “Start with this, it’s more warming than whisky. Would you like a shower?”
Ryan was about to say that all he wanted was a fuck, but he knew it wasn’t as simple as that. If it had been, he’d just have gone to the club rather than take the risk of turning up on Lester’s doorstep.
Instead, he nodded.
Lester showed him to the en suite off what was obviously his bedroom and left him with towels and everything he needed, including an emerald green silk dressing gown. Ryan turned the water up as hot as he could bear and quickly scrubbed away the sweat of the day, his stomach lurching as he realised that he still had Keehan’s blood under his nails and on his arms. When he came out, he found Lester in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, rubbing his hair dry.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
Ryan shook his head, feeling his anger at the day ebbing, being replaced by a strength-sapping weariness. So many fucking deaths …
Lester’s arms slipped around him again and he was pulled into a warm, slightly damp hug. “Come to bed, and I’ll see what I can do to make you forget.” He let the towel slip to the floor and pushed the silk robe off Ryan’s shoulders to pool at his feet.
While Lester pulled the thin net curtains closed and turned off the lights, Ryan sprawled out facedown on the bed, his head pillowed on his arms. Lester hadn’t tried to kiss him, and Ryan was grateful for that. His cock was already hard; all he wanted was the uncomplicated release he knew he’d get from being fucked. Lester settled on the bed next to him and started to massage Ryan’s shoulders, working strong fingers into knotted muscles, finding and releasing the tension Ryan had been holding onto without even realising it.
Ryan closed his eyes and let Lester work down his body, following his talented fingers with the wet slide of mouth and tongue, feathering light kisses down Ryan’s spine that danced on his skin like butterflies and set his nerves on fire. He felt the touch of the same strong fingers as traced circles in the hollow of this back and stroked over his arse before spreading him open then Ryan felt warm breath ghosting over his cleft followed by the wet swipe of a tongue across his hole.
He gasped and ground his hips against the cool sheets. “Fuck, that feels good …”
“Then you won’t mind if do it again?”
Ryan’s laugh sounded ragged even to his own ears. “Be my guest.”
Lester licked him again, teasing with his tongue. Every touch sent hot spikes of pleasure straight into his hard cock. Ryan wouldn’t have described himself as inexperienced in bed but this was a first for him and hell, it felt good. It felt so fucking good.
A moment later, a slick finger pressed inside him and Ryan felt his heartrate jump up a notch. “Not too slowly, please … I need this …”
Lester worked a second finger in and Ryan pushed back against the burn. He needed Lester’s cock inside him, he needed to forget … He spread his legs and felt Lester settle between them. The tearing of a foil packet told him he wouldn’t have long to wait. The warm weight of Lester’s body pressed down on him and he felt the deliciously slow penetration of a hard cock breaching the tight muscle and thrusting home. Lester gave him a moment to adjust, then started to drive in hard and deep as he nuzzled the sensitive skin at the back of Ryan’s neck.
Lester kept up a relentless pace, every thrust pushing Ryan’s cock against the sheets, carrying him away from himself on a wave of sensation that left no room for thought, allowing him the luxury of just letting himself drift on a tide of pleasure tinged with the sharp edge of pain that he sometimes craved like a drug.
The scrape of teeth over the back of his neck drew a gasp that Ryan made no attempt to hold back. Hands roamed over his body, nails scraping over skin that felt more alive than Ryan could remember for a very long time. The warm burn inside gave him everything he needed and more, then pleasure flared into bright sparks behind his eyes as Lester’s cock raked just the right place. He pushed back, chasing the brightness, feeling himself falling hard and fast, but still needing more …
Lester gave him what he needed, kissing his neck and shoulder as he drove into him with unerring accuracy, driving out the darkness in his head, replacing it with the warm tinge of rose gold spreading through body and mind. He was close … so fucking close …
He felt Lester’s cock slide in and out of his body, filling him, hot and hard and just right and Lester’s mouth was on him, nipping lightly at the sweat-soaked skin on his shoulder. The noise that came out of his mouth sounded embarrassingly close to a whimper. The next bite was harder and Lester’s rhythm became ragged, then Ryan was coming, his control slipping away into a warm haze and he was falling fast …
He felt Lester pull out and shift position, urging Ryan onto his back. Warm lips sought his and the Lester was kissing him with single-minded intensity, Ryan sprawled underneath him, boneless and sated, his arms wrapped around Lester, holding him close, feeling the beat of his heart anchoring him to a safe haven.
When they finally released their hold on each other, Lester slipped from the bed, tracked down the condom he’d unceremoniously dumped on the carpet and cleaned them both up with a handful of tissues, returning with the brandy that Ryan had abandoned in the bathroom.
Settled back on the pillows with Lester’s arm around him, drinking from the same glass again, Ryan asked, “Did your neighbour really invite us to tea and cakes?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Are we going?”
“Do you want to?”
“Do you want me to?”
Lester’s hand stroked Ryan’s shoulder. “Yes. You’ll like her and she’ll like you.”
Ryan let out a slow breath.
“Going too fast?” Lester’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.
“No. Just fast enough, and yes, I’d love to go with you to tea and cakes with your neighbour. Considering we started by fucking each other senseless in pub toilet, I’d say we’re doing all right.” He turned and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Lester’s throat. “Thanks for giving me what I needed.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Only as much as I wanted.”
Lester’s arms tightened around him and Ryan relaxed into his touch. He had no idea where they were going with this – whatever it was – but for once, he was just content to simply let things take their course.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Ryan/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : s1.5
Summary : Red blood and white bone is a sight Ryan wants to forget.
A/N : A/N : This follows on from Anonymous, Acknowledged and Accepted.
Ryan took the stairs to his flat two at a time, not wanting to wait for the lift, not wanting to be near anyone else, not trusting himself to be near anyone else.
He’d held it together at the golf course, helping to repatriate the Pteranodon with a smile on his face, despite knowing that one of his men had been ripped to shreds by a flock of fucking flying piranhas. Despite Cutter’s handshakes, Hart’s easy camaraderie, Claudia’s air of concern, Abby’s smiles and Connor’s shy grins, he sometimes felt like a black uniform was some sort of fucking cloak of invisibility.
Another day on this fucking mad assignment and another fucking death knock that had to be delivered by the Regiment’s welfare officer. Another family destroyed.
He stripped off his uniform and dumped it in a heap, throwing on the clothes he’d worn the previous night. He was too wound up to eat and he didn’t trust himself with alcohol feeling like this. He’d known too many soldiers find too much comfort in the bottom of a glass to want to follow that route. He needed to get outside, he needed to clear his head. He needed to stop fucking blaming himself, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
Outside, the shadows of evening were already closing in. Drawn by the lights shining on the dark water of the Thames, Ryan started walking, doing his best to resist the urge to turn to the stone parapet and smash his fist into it until his knuckles bled, using pain to blot out the anger at yet another fucking death. And if the shitweasel of a Minister that Lester had the misfortune to report to ran true to form, the cunt no doubt be complaining about the state of the fucking golf club rather than showing any interest in the two men who had died.
He kept walking, sticking to the riverside as much as possible, barely noticing that anyone coming the other way had started to give him a wide berth. He walked quickly, breaking into a run at times when the tension became unbearable. Before he knew it, he was approaching Blackfriars Bridge and the anger had started to dissipate, leaving him feeling less like punching something harder than his own hand. He turned on his heel and started to walk back to the flat. Maybe by then a drink wouldn’t be such a bad idea …
Twenty minutes later, the imposing, elegant façade of Whitehall Court loomed up on his right. Ryan stopped and stared, then on an impulse he didn’t want to think too closely about, he walked quickly across the road and made for the front of the building.
Lester wasn’t the only one with basic detective skills, but despite what had happened between them three nights ago, Ryan was by no means sure that the man would want him turning up unannounced on his doorstep. That might be going too far, even if his boss had been fucked into the mattress by the hired help and seemed to have enjoyed it.
The sane part of Ryan’s mind told him in no uncertain terms that he should just go back to the flat and take his chances that Lester might turn up. He knew from a phone conversation of Claudia’s he’d overheard before they’d left the golf course that Lester had a late meeting in Whitehall, so there was no guarantee that he’d even be back home by now, but Ryan needed to see him. Needed just to let go, but the idea of someone banging his brains out in the Waterloo held little appeal. Fuck, one night with someone in a proper bed and he was acting like a sodding lovestruck teenager.
The front entrance to one of London’s most up-market addresses was even more imposing than the side of the building that overlooked the river. There was no way Ryan was going to embarrass Lester by giving his name to the uniformed concierge but finding an open and unattended basement service door wasn’t difficult. He quickly made sense of the internal layout and made his way up the back stairs to the third floor, quickly making his way through beautifully carpeted corridors to a cream-painted door marked number 343 on polished brass plate.
Ryan’s nerve abruptly failed. He didn’t know what the fuck he’d been thinking of getting that far. If Lester wanted to see him, he knew where to find him, and he could always phone. He knew the number.
He was about to turn away when the door abruptly opened to reveal Lester, still dressed in the suit he’d been wearing in Marsham Street that morning, pulling on an overcoat.
“Ryan? Why the fuck …?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come…” he quickly turned away, feeling a traitorous flush building up.
“… aren’t you answering your phone?” Lester demanded, overriding Ryan’s apology.
The crack of authority in Lester’s voice brought Ryan up short and he automatically stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled his phone out, staring blankly at an equally blank screen.
“Turned off, or run out of charge?” Lester asked, in a softer tone.
Ryan pressed the button on the side of the phone and watched as it powered up. “Turned off. Sorry.”
Lester sighed. “You’ll find ten missed calls and three voicemails. I’d delete the last one without listening to it. I think I was rude.”
“You only think you were rude?” Ryan’s lips twitched into a smile, despite how fucking stupid he felt.
“All right, I know I was rude. You weren’t answering the phone in the flat either. I was on my way to the Waterloo …” Lester held up an imperious hand to forestall anything Ryan had been about to say. “And no I wasn’t going to be looking for an anonymous fuck …”
“Thank goodness for that, James!” a cut-glass voice declared, as an elderly woman wearing a peacock blue silk dress stepped out of the neighbouring flat. She gave Ryan an appraising look. “Hmm, you look nicer than his bitch of an ex-wife. Took you long enough to come to your senses, James.”
Lester laughed weakly. “Lady Emily Fanshawe meet Captain Tom Ryan.”
Lady Fanshawe held her hand out and for a moment Ryan wasn’t sure if he was meant to kiss it or shake it, so he settled for the latter, with a slight bow thrown in for good measure.
“You look like you need a stiff drink, young man,” she told him shrewdly. “James, you can tell me all about him over a gin and tonic tomorrow night. Bring him to tea the weekend after next.”
“You’ll only eat him alive.”
“He looks like he can take care of himself.”
“You could try offering him cake as well as tea. That might do the trick.”
“Cake’s good,” Ryan agreed.
“Splendid. That’s settled then. Now if you’ll forgive me, I have the world’s most tedious cocktail party to attend.”
“Try not to kill anyone.”
“I make no promises, dear boy, you know my views on the Foreign Secretary.” With that, she sashayed elegantly towards the lift, shooting them a backwards glance of equal parts fondness and amusement.
“She’s serious about the tea and cake,” Lester said.
“Were you?”
“Yes, now come in. She was right about you looking like you need a drink.”
Lester took Ryan’s jacket and slipped off his own coat, hanging them both up in a large cupboard in the wood-panelled hall that led to a large room with huge windows overlooking the Thames. The room was elegant without being imposing, soft lighting highlighting rich rugs on the floor and tasteful art on the walls. Ryan walked over to the window and found himself staring directly at the multi-coloured lights on the slowly revolving London Eye. The place must have been worth a fucking fortune.
Strong arms slipped around his waist and a soft voice said, “I’m sorry about Keehan. That must have been vile.”
“The little fuckers ripped him to shreds.”
Lester’s arms held him close. “I only found out when I got out of that fucking meeting. I rang you as soon as I heard.”
“And kept ringing …”
“Definitely don’t listen to that last message.”
“No promises …”
“Tell me what you need, Ryan.”
“Fuck me until I forget the sight of red flesh and white bone.”
“I’ll do my best.” Lester walked over to a mahogany drinks cabinet and poured a large glass of brandy, holding it out to him. “Start with this, it’s more warming than whisky. Would you like a shower?”
Ryan was about to say that all he wanted was a fuck, but he knew it wasn’t as simple as that. If it had been, he’d just have gone to the club rather than take the risk of turning up on Lester’s doorstep.
Instead, he nodded.
Lester showed him to the en suite off what was obviously his bedroom and left him with towels and everything he needed, including an emerald green silk dressing gown. Ryan turned the water up as hot as he could bear and quickly scrubbed away the sweat of the day, his stomach lurching as he realised that he still had Keehan’s blood under his nails and on his arms. When he came out, he found Lester in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, rubbing his hair dry.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
Ryan shook his head, feeling his anger at the day ebbing, being replaced by a strength-sapping weariness. So many fucking deaths …
Lester’s arms slipped around him again and he was pulled into a warm, slightly damp hug. “Come to bed, and I’ll see what I can do to make you forget.” He let the towel slip to the floor and pushed the silk robe off Ryan’s shoulders to pool at his feet.
While Lester pulled the thin net curtains closed and turned off the lights, Ryan sprawled out facedown on the bed, his head pillowed on his arms. Lester hadn’t tried to kiss him, and Ryan was grateful for that. His cock was already hard; all he wanted was the uncomplicated release he knew he’d get from being fucked. Lester settled on the bed next to him and started to massage Ryan’s shoulders, working strong fingers into knotted muscles, finding and releasing the tension Ryan had been holding onto without even realising it.
Ryan closed his eyes and let Lester work down his body, following his talented fingers with the wet slide of mouth and tongue, feathering light kisses down Ryan’s spine that danced on his skin like butterflies and set his nerves on fire. He felt the touch of the same strong fingers as traced circles in the hollow of this back and stroked over his arse before spreading him open then Ryan felt warm breath ghosting over his cleft followed by the wet swipe of a tongue across his hole.
He gasped and ground his hips against the cool sheets. “Fuck, that feels good …”
“Then you won’t mind if do it again?”
Ryan’s laugh sounded ragged even to his own ears. “Be my guest.”
Lester licked him again, teasing with his tongue. Every touch sent hot spikes of pleasure straight into his hard cock. Ryan wouldn’t have described himself as inexperienced in bed but this was a first for him and hell, it felt good. It felt so fucking good.
A moment later, a slick finger pressed inside him and Ryan felt his heartrate jump up a notch. “Not too slowly, please … I need this …”
Lester worked a second finger in and Ryan pushed back against the burn. He needed Lester’s cock inside him, he needed to forget … He spread his legs and felt Lester settle between them. The tearing of a foil packet told him he wouldn’t have long to wait. The warm weight of Lester’s body pressed down on him and he felt the deliciously slow penetration of a hard cock breaching the tight muscle and thrusting home. Lester gave him a moment to adjust, then started to drive in hard and deep as he nuzzled the sensitive skin at the back of Ryan’s neck.
Lester kept up a relentless pace, every thrust pushing Ryan’s cock against the sheets, carrying him away from himself on a wave of sensation that left no room for thought, allowing him the luxury of just letting himself drift on a tide of pleasure tinged with the sharp edge of pain that he sometimes craved like a drug.
The scrape of teeth over the back of his neck drew a gasp that Ryan made no attempt to hold back. Hands roamed over his body, nails scraping over skin that felt more alive than Ryan could remember for a very long time. The warm burn inside gave him everything he needed and more, then pleasure flared into bright sparks behind his eyes as Lester’s cock raked just the right place. He pushed back, chasing the brightness, feeling himself falling hard and fast, but still needing more …
Lester gave him what he needed, kissing his neck and shoulder as he drove into him with unerring accuracy, driving out the darkness in his head, replacing it with the warm tinge of rose gold spreading through body and mind. He was close … so fucking close …
He felt Lester’s cock slide in and out of his body, filling him, hot and hard and just right and Lester’s mouth was on him, nipping lightly at the sweat-soaked skin on his shoulder. The noise that came out of his mouth sounded embarrassingly close to a whimper. The next bite was harder and Lester’s rhythm became ragged, then Ryan was coming, his control slipping away into a warm haze and he was falling fast …
He felt Lester pull out and shift position, urging Ryan onto his back. Warm lips sought his and the Lester was kissing him with single-minded intensity, Ryan sprawled underneath him, boneless and sated, his arms wrapped around Lester, holding him close, feeling the beat of his heart anchoring him to a safe haven.
When they finally released their hold on each other, Lester slipped from the bed, tracked down the condom he’d unceremoniously dumped on the carpet and cleaned them both up with a handful of tissues, returning with the brandy that Ryan had abandoned in the bathroom.
Settled back on the pillows with Lester’s arm around him, drinking from the same glass again, Ryan asked, “Did your neighbour really invite us to tea and cakes?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Are we going?”
“Do you want to?”
“Do you want me to?”
Lester’s hand stroked Ryan’s shoulder. “Yes. You’ll like her and she’ll like you.”
Ryan let out a slow breath.
“Going too fast?” Lester’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.
“No. Just fast enough, and yes, I’d love to go with you to tea and cakes with your neighbour. Considering we started by fucking each other senseless in pub toilet, I’d say we’re doing all right.” He turned and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Lester’s throat. “Thanks for giving me what I needed.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Only as much as I wanted.”
Lester’s arms tightened around him and Ryan relaxed into his touch. He had no idea where they were going with this – whatever it was – but for once, he was just content to simply let things take their course.
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no subject
Date: 2020-07-10 08:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-07-10 09:46 pm (UTC)Lady Emily wrote herself, I think!
no subject
Date: 2020-07-11 09:17 am (UTC)he sometimes felt like a black uniform was some sort of fucking cloak of invisibility
Yeah, the idea that that's what they're there for!
Ryan's stream of consciousness as he tried to run away from his memories was so poignant.
Lester sighed. “You’ll find ten missed calls and three voicemails. I’d delete the last one without listening to it. I think I was rude.”
“You only think you were rude?” Ryan’s lips twitched into a smile, despite how fucking stupid he felt.
Ouch. If Lester thought he was being rude, then that message must have been capable of blistering paint!
I know I say this every time, but I do adore these episode codas. You manage to bring out something in each one that was just glossed over.
And mmmmmm for the hot sex at the end! Yay for smut!
no subject
Date: 2020-07-11 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-07-11 09:38 am (UTC)*sighs happily*
no subject
Date: 2020-07-11 05:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-01 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-02 01:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-02 07:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-14 09:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-12-23 11:13 pm (UTC)I feel him, though. The soldiers just being dinosaur fodder 😔