fredbassett | Fic, Golden and Black, Stephen/Ryan, 15

Title : Golden and Black
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Character, : Stephen/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine (and Sanctuary belongs to Ali), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Blame

munchkinofdoom for this one folks, but I suppose it was bound to happen eventually! The boys wake up to something unusual in Sanctuary.

Stephen rolled over in bed, his arm snaking round Ryan’s waist for a sleepy hug. The soldier emitted one of his endearing little half-asleep grunts and Stephen ran his hand up from his lover’s narrow hips, up a broad, muscular back, bringing it to rest on a warm shoulder. A warm lumpy shoulder.

Wide awake almost instantly, Stephen sat up and tugged the duvet down. He hadn’t been mistaken. There was a very distinct and extremely alarming lump, situated on the back of each of his lover’s shoulders. Stephen didn’t have much in the way of medical knowledge, but he knew perfectly well that a) this wasn’t normal, and more importantly, b) Ryan’s anatomy hadn’t looked like that last night.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Stephen glanced up at the ceiling and said, with a warning note in his voice, “Management? Would you mind explaining what the hell is going on around here?”

That was enough to bring Ryan out of his slumbers. The soldier rolled over onto his back, then sat up, a surprised, “Ow!” coming from him as he became conscious of the lumps by the simple expedient of lying on them.

In one smooth move, Ryan was out of the bed, and heading for the bathroom mirror. “What the hell?”

Stephen shrugged, and his sinking feeling turned into more of a plummet. “Ryan!”

His lover’s eyes widened. “Yep. You’ve got ‘em as well. Management!”

“Yes, gentlemen?” The voice held only polite interest, but Stephen and Ryan had been here long enough to recognise the sound of a shifty Duty Manager when they heard one. And they were hearing one right now.

“What the hell are the lumps all about? They weren’t there when we went to bed last night.” Ryan levelled the sort of glare at the ceiling that used to send his men scuttling for cover. “So what’s it all about?”

The sound of a voice delicately clearing its throat drifted into the silence. “It happens at least once, even in the most well run fandoms.” The voice sounded faintly apologetic, with the emphasis on the faintly.

“That’s not an explanation, and you know it.” Ryan’s tone was reasonable, but contained just the faintest frisson of we’ve still got the 81 mil mortar handy if we need it.

“Just relax and give your shoulders a shake.” The Duty Manager’s voice was wheedling now. “Go on, just for me. Pretty please?

Ryan sighed. He thought Management had been a bit quiet lately. He might have known it wouldn’t last. And whatever Management might claim, this was hardly a well-run establishment. Jeez, a guy never knew what to expect next around here. The buggers had probably been planning this one for a while. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing ….

“Jesus H. Christ!” He stared at his own reflection in the mirror and gaped. Two large wings had suddenly sprouted from the back of his shoulders, unfurling like a bird of prey, stretching lazily in the sunlight.

Stephen gaped. He’d never seen anything like this in his bloody life, it was ….. he groped for the right words in his head, and settled for awesome. That really was the only adequate description. He had a sudden urge to run his hands down the feathers. He’d stroked an eagle owl once, at a falconry display, and had never forgotten it.

Ryan stepped out of the bathroom, a look of intense concentration on his face. The wings settled into place, lying in a smooth line down his back. A moment later, he frowned slightly, obviously trying to decide which muscles to flex, and, when he’d worked it out, the wings spread out again, stretching something over two metres from tip to tip. He flapped them once, then twice, rising up almost half a metre from the ground on his second attempt.

“Bloody fucking hell,” breathed the soldier. His grey eyes turned speculative. “Go on, Hart, you try it.”

Stephen’s eyes widened. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten his own lumps. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, he followed Ryan’s example and shook himself, like a wet dog climbing out of a stream. He felt a brief moment of something that wasn’t quite pain and wasn’t quite pleasure, then he was distracted by the soft brush of feathers down his own back.

Glancing over his own shoulder in some trepidation, he found himself staring at a pair of raven black wings, as dark as the darkest nightfall. “Fuck me!”

Ryan met his eyes and grinned. “Turn round,” his lover encouraged.

Drawing in the amazing wings slightly, Stephen obliged.

The soldier stepped up behind him, running his fingers lightly down the feathers. A shiver of the most intense pleasure rippled through Stephen’s body, and in seconds, his cock was standing to attention.

“Do that again,” he breathed. Ryan’s hand stroked a little harder this time, and Stephen couldn’t hold back a moan. It felt like every touch was being applied directly to the most intimate parts of his body.

“My turn,” said Ryan, presenting his back, with its new accoutrements, for the same treatment.

Stephen sucked in his breath and reached out tentatively with his fingertips. Oh God, it was just like he remembered the owl’s feathers feeling. Soft, silky, with a hint of steely strength. And it had exactly the same effect on Ryan as it had done on him.

“What do you think, boys? enquired a polite voice from above.

Ryan’s hands snaked round his back, stroking and smoothing, and whatever Stephen had been intending to offer by way of a reply got lost in the kitten noises that chose that moment to fall incoherently from his lips.

He moved forward into his lover’s embrace, lips seeking Ryan’s while he ran his own hands down the smooth expanse of golden feathers adorning the other man’s back. His cock rubbed up against Ryan’s then pleasure flared to a sharp, sweet pinnacle and he gasped his climax into a willing mouth. Seconds later, he felt a warm splash on his own stomach, which told him that the feeling was mutual.

“Looks like you’re off the hook, this time, Management,” murmured Ryan, burying his face in Stephen’s neck, still gasping. “Fancy a spin in the great outdoors, sweetie?”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lukadreaming.livejournal.com

OMFG! Guh! That was just . . . *yibbles incoherently*

Bloody hot and funny -- I sporfled at the shifty manager and the well-run fandom *g*.

Awesome, sweetie!

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Fic, Golden and Black, Stephen/Ryan, 15

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