Primeval fic: Meeting in Time
Title: Meeting in Time
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise, I'm not making any money from it, and I'm not claiming that I am, either.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Stephen and Connor met when they were both fifteen. They meet again when they're thirty-two and twenty-four.
AN: So, with all apologies to sandyleepotts, because I'd never intended for this idea to go the route of Stephen/Connor smut, and specifically for aunteeneenah, who cheered this one on. For those who want the backstory, well, I've already written the idea down twice, once in A Twist in a Relative Timeline, and once in All in Good Time, if you want to know about the supersoldier thing and the Helen thing, it's in those two fics. For those who don't want to bother, in a nutshell, Helen kidnapped a bunch of teenagers and tried to make them into feral berserkers, was outsmarted by Stephen and Connor, who then meet up again in episode 1 of Primeval. Connor is prone to turning into a feral crazy killing machine if denied medication. That's really all you need to know.
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Stephen hadn't ever been a clumsy child or teenager, even before he'd been dragged into the distant past by soldiers in black and taken through the incipient stages of becoming a supersoldier. As one of the last, he'd never actually had the chance to see the terrifying 'She' that was the person behind it all, but Connor and the rest had assured him that some sick woman, English they all thought, was behind it.
It was years and years since the kidnap, the return, the time spent creating some way of keeping his supersenses and whatnot, and years since he'd seen Connor, who he still missed with a sharp ache.
They'd compared dates of birth and had come to the reluctant conclusion that they shouldn't meet up when they were both back. Connor was a full eight years younger than Stephen, and when Stephen was fifteen back home, Connor would be only seven. Too young for any sort of carrying on like they'd been doing, for one, and anyhow, it would be years and years before they'd met. By the time Connor was fifteen and gone and come back again, Stephen would be twenty-two. Fifteen and twenty-two was hardly better than seven and fifteen. But they both knew themselves well enough that, at the second point, they'd fall into old patterns.
So, they had shared one last night, giving in to hormones and instincts, and then Connor, the last one out because he was the best at programming computers, had sent Stephen home, and that was the last he'd seen of his . . . lover, he supposed was the best word.
When the advanced sense of smell, hearing, taste and everything else had started to fade, Stephen had felt like he was suddenly going deaf and blind. He'd buried himself in chemistry and microbiology, reconstructing partly from memory the way 'She' had made them stronger and better. He'd recreated the binding agent and had used it on himself. At thirty-two he was old enough now to know that what he'd done had been incredibly stupid, but it was too late to cry over spilt milk now, and he couldn't regret what those advantages had done for him.
The sound of feet slapping the pavement preceded a hauntingly familiar voice, and equally familiar scent. "Professor Cutter!"
Stephen just barely suppressed a gape of shock. Before he could respond, Nick had said, "Easy there," just in time for Connor to demonstrate a tremendous lack of coordination as he lost his grip on everything he was carrying. Nick turned and started walking away, and Stephen followed in his wake out of pure habit.
"Professor!" Connor said demandingly. "Professor Cutter!" He caught up with them, saying breathlessly, "Connor Temple."
Stephen was barely aware of the exchange of words as he drank in the sight of Connor's older, but still beautifully familiar face, and the telltale trace of his scent in the air. Something was wrong though, and it wasn't until they were inside Cutter's office that he could tell. Something was wrong with Connor. He was ill in some way. Something that had to explain how the graceful alpha male that still thrilled Stephen in his dreams had given way to this floppy, sloppy, all-too-human and clumsy student.
But instinct in him still thrilled to Connor's presence, and he found himself backing up Connor's wish to go to the Forest of Dean, glad for Helen's disappearance to provide an excuse to support that trip. The whole time they were in the car on the way up, he had to bury himself in unappealing mental images on the one hand, to fight off the arousal that was threatening his sanity from the scent of Connor filling the car, and to search desperately for something soothing to handle the fact that he could smell something so wrong with Connor, it made him nauseous.
It wasn't until they got to the hotel and Nick decided he needed a break and a drink that Stephen was able to get Connor alone. The moment Nick had vanished inside, he had Connor by the scruff of the neck, dragging him around a corner and out of sight. "What's wrong, Connor?"
Connor frowned, stared at him for a long moment, then said, slowly and hesitantly, "Stephen?"
"Yes, Stephen," he snapped. "Who did you think it was?"
"I . . ." his eyes darted from side to side, nervously, and there was nothing of the confident, sharp and strong alpha in him. "I didn't . . . you've changed," he said lamely.
Eyes narrowed, Stephen said, "Not that much, and anyhow, you still smell the same, Connor. You can't tell me I don't."
"I wouldn't know," Connor said slowly. "I . . . biochemistry's not my area," he told Stephen. "It was just blitz everything or be . . ." he gestured vaguely, but Stephen knew the words spinning through Connor's head. Mad, feral, dangerous, vicious, animal. "I can't . . . there are days I can barely stand up straight, and I can't smell things, hear things . . . when I saw you, I didn't think . . . you don't look the same." His eyes glazed over a little as he leaned into Stephen, a suddenly familiar movement of his head told Stephen Connor was trying to test his scent. "If I'm not careful, don't take the pills I bodged up . . ." he trailed off, a hand unconsciously going to his coat pocket.
Stephen felt a growl rumble out of his throat, and felt a pleasurable shiver as Connor, despite his current state, growled warningly in response. And using the advantage he currently had, whipped a hand into the coat pocket and pulled out the bottle that smelled like Connor's illness, compounded in one spot. "Well, biochemistry's my area, and you're off these until I've got you something that doesn't leave you half crippled."
Another growl, this one far more aggressive rumbled from Connor's chest, and he tried to spin them and pin Stephen. It didn't work, and Stephen grinned mockingly. "Don't test me, Stephen," Connor warned.
"What are you going to do?" Stephen demanded of him. "Trip on me? You're in no condition to make any threats, Connor. Let me help you."
"I-" Connor never got to reply, because Nick was calling for them. Stephen resettled himself to his normal bland persona, and Connor shook himself, all affability and clumsy exuberance again.
As the day wore on, though, he got simultaneously more tense and relaxed. On the one hand, as his sense of smell, the aggression and alpha personality regained ground, he tensed up. As his balance, strength and the scent of his packmate and beta came to him, he relaxed.
"Damnit, Stephen," he hissed as they followed behind the SFs that had been called out by that Claudia Brown woman, who seemingly worked for the government. "Give me back my pills."
"No," Stephen told him. "You don't get them back. You get to work them out of your system, and then we start from scratch."
"And if I go mad and start trying to kill everyone in sight? Those soldier won't take kindly to me going mad at them."
"What are you two talking about back there?" demanded Nick.
"Nothing," they said back simultaneously. But where Stephen had been all innocence and unsuspicious, Connor had a growl underlying his words, that all too clearly said that Nick should keep his nose out of Connor's business.
"I see that hasn't left you," Stephen muttered in his ear.
"That," Connor said derisively, "is a full mutation, and you know it."
"What is going on back there?" Nick repeated, eyes narrowed at them both.
Stephen called back, "Just catching up. I haven't seen Connor in years. Didn't even know he was going to Central Met."
The look Nick levelled at him was full of incredulity and disbelief. "Right," he said. The undertone was clear, he was planning to demand answers at the first available opportunity.
"Stop it," Connor snapped softly. "Give me back the pills. I'm seconds away from beating his head in for treating me like a halfwit."
"You don't get them back until you can take them from me," Stephen said. "And right now, alpha," he said mockingly, "You couldn't get them away from a baby." Then he leaned in closer and murmured, "And you don't want to, do you? You want to pin me down and -"
"Don't tempt me," Connor growled, but Stephen just grinned, seeing his eyes dilate and able to smell that Connor did want to.
They were left to their own devices, tracking down whatever it was that had come through, Connor's pills wearing off faster every second. He'd already got rid of his bag, dispensed with his bulky coat that hindered his movements, and was now pacing easily with Stephen. Neither of them spoke, Connor subsuming his anger at Stephen appropriating his self-treatment in the hunt, and Stephen just trying to focus on not tempting Connor.
It was hard, though, as Connor was still as whipcord slender as he'd been at fifteen, but had filled out into adulthood. And underneath those baggy trousers was a tight arse he could almost see. "Stop thinking about me buggering you," Connor said over his shoulder, "And more about the gorgonopsid."
"Is that what it is?" Stephen asked, shaken out of a fantasy of Connor pinning him to the forest floor and just . . .
"Yes, and I'll stake you out for it to eat if you don't start paying attention to the job at hand," Connor told him irritably.
They tracked it down to the school, but there wasn't room to maneouvre in the halls, and Stephen wound up in front of it, getting run down. He woke to the sight of Connor leaning anxiously over him. For a moment, a whine emerged from low in his throat, and instincts he'd long suppressed made him tilt his head submissively, deliberately inviting Connor to stake his claim.
With a so-familiar growl that made lust pool in his stomach and his blood drift downward, Connor leaned over and bit his neck gently. Stephen gasped and couldn't help but let his hips buck upward. "Connor," he moaned.
The sound of people coming roused them both. Connor fixed him with a look. "We're not done," he said. "But we'd best find that thing before it eats someones cub - kids."
"Right," Stephen agreed, levering himself to his feet.
Connor's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "This way," he said, taking the lead at a lope. It was familiar, it was brilliant and a grin stretched over his lips as he let Connor, who had been further along the process than he was, was stronger, faster and had keener senses, take the lead. They ran through the woods, Connor eventually taking to the trees because it was more fun higher up, while Stephen just followed along the forest floor. It was exhilerating. Like being in a pack of wolves.
Eventually, though, he was forced to detour and collect the hilux. Connor landed on the roof and slid in through an open window, shooting him a look. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Stephen said as they took the car the rest of the way. "Left or right?"
"That way," Connor told him, pointing. "We could have caught it on foot, you know."
"No," Stephen corrected, "You could have caught it on foot, I could have straggled along in your wake."
And then there it was, terrorising the collected people at the base camp in front of where the anomaly had been. Stephen and Connor glanced at each other in perfect accord as Stephen rammed the thing. They hopped out, Stephen going to Nick at once to check on his friend, while Connor took a look at the creature.
"Temple!" he heard Nick shout, even as he heard it getting to it's feet. But Connor was already moving, using it as a springboard to get out of its way and into the trees. When Nick tossed him the machine gun, Stephen felt a moment of regret he and Connor wouldn't have the fun of tag-teaming it, but shook his head. Stupidity like that was what had wound up killing a few of the others back in the Permian base, and he had plans with Connor that didn't involve them getting murdered by an extinct animal.
Connor kept himself under remarkable control the whole time they were being debriefed by Sir James Lester, but some acerbic one-liners that had Cutter looking at Connor with something rather like respect still escaped. It was only by dint of imagining the cloned guards from the Permian camp dressed in bikinis and doing the hula that he was able to keep a lid on how badly he wanted Connor. When Connor got irate, skating close to the edge of purely feral behaviour, he developed a caustic wit quite different from his usual shenanigans and bad jokes.
He loved both sides of Connor's personality. The slightly shy geek, who'd lean into any affection and let Stephen lead and take care of him, and the dominant alpha that hid most of the time, but would come roaring out if provoked just right, and pin Stephen to the nearest flat surface and make him beg.
Finally finished with the Home Office, Stephen caught Connor as they left. "My place?" he asked. "I think I can give you something that'll take the edge off without nearly as many side-effects."
"Alright," Connor said.
The ride back to his flat was silent. So was the walk up the stairs. Then they were through the door, and suddenly Connor was tackling him to the floor. "I think you need a lesson in just who's the alpha," he said into Stephen's ear. Stephen whimpered in response, finally not having to think about the guards in tutus and things, and let himself get hard, let Connor press him into the floor. "I think this is going to be even better than that last time," Connor said idly as he pulled Stephen to his feet and squeezed the pulsing erection just right, shattering Stephen's thoughts into tiny pieces. "I mean, I've had so much more practice now."
He didn't bother answering, just spun around and kissed Connor. "You have no idea how much I missed you," he said. "How many times I wanted to find you and just . . ."
For a moment, Connor's dominant stance faded. "It wouldn't have worked until now, anyhow, Stephen. What would you have done? Approached me before it all happened? When I was still a child? Would you have come once I'd made it back? When you would have been arrested for corrupting a minor? Statutory rape?" He kissed Stephen gently. "I think it may have been better this way in the end." Then he pulled back. "Now, beta, strip."
He couldn't peel out of his clothes fast enough, unable to quell the grin on his lips as he saw Connor doing the same. Then, faster than human eyesight could track, Connor was across the floor, pinning him to his bed, teeth delicately sunk into the back of his neck. Stephen shuddered, unable to keep from writhing. This was what he'd looked for, why he'd fallen for Helen's blandishments. Connor growled, the demand that he be still, clear. Instead, he pushed. "You know, I have to say, from all appearances, I really ought to be the alpha, here."
Connor, far stronger than he ought to be with all his enhancements, literally tore a strip off the bedsheet beneath them, and Stephen was manhandled and tied to the the headboard, followed by Connor aiming a sharp slap across his arse that stung like hell. His cock throbbed in response. "You do look pretty like this," Connor commented, starting to hunt through the end table beside the bed, coming up with a small tube. "Here we are," he said, and started to carefully drizzle it down, sliding a finger into Stephen.
"God," Stephen groaned. Connor barely waited for him to adjust to the first finger before adding the second, finding his prostate and making him buck and thrust onto the invading digits. "So, good." A third finger, also too fast, and now it was beginning to hurt, but the hurt just reminded him that he was there to do as his alpha bid, do what he was told to please the alpha, and it just mixed with the pleasure to send his thoughts spinning off. He was slamming his hips back onto the fingers, thrusting his cock forward . . . but that was into nothing, feeling nothing touch his erection. "Please, Connor."
Connor chuckled in his ear, and began delicately teasing, letting a single finger run from the base to the head and back again. It was a taunt, and he couldn't help but twist, trying to turn that single teasing finger into something . . . more. "You want more, don't you?" Connor murmured. "Want me to wrap my fingers around your cock tight, make you shove your dick into my hand, hard and fast and let you fuck my fist until you can't help but come?"
A strangled whimper was all he could manage. The finger went away a moment, then came back, only this time it was a slick hand, tightly wrapped around him, squeezing and running up and down his cock, leaving him maddened, fingers thrusting into his arse, and hand on his cock, working him in incredible tandem, letting his hips snap back and forth as he got closer and closer to coming. "Connor! I'm going . . . I . . . so close . . ." he was at the peak, about to tip over when the fingers in his arse suddenly pulled out, and a hand clamped down on the base of his cock, stopping the orgasm dead in its tracks, making him sob. "Please!"
"I do like seeing you beg," Connor said idly, shifting his hands around, the fingers on the hand acting like a cock ring gently caressing his dick. "Now, stay still," he emphasised with another slap to the arse. It was an act of will not to keep rocking his hips into Connor's hand. Then suddenly his arse was filled and he felt Connor's cock buried in him to the hilt, the pair of them now pressed body to body. He couldn't stop the instinctive jerk backwards and received a sharp pinch to a nipple in retaliation.
They were perfectly still for a time, Stephen finding the blazing need subsiding enough that he wasn't going to explode the moment Connor let go. Somehow Connor knew, and began to fuck him then, leaving his fingers clamped around the base of Stephen's dick, his thrusts slamming repeatedly into Stephen's prostate, rapidly driving him mad again. Connor sped up his thrusts.
A sudden pounding on the door to his flat distracted them both. "Stephen?" It was Nick. "Stephen, I really need to talk to you." Connor's fingers let go and a growl vibrated in his chest, loud and warning. "Stephen?" Nick's voice was suddenly filled with fear and concern. He'd clearly heard the sound. "Are you alright?"
Another growl, this one vibrating through the contact between Connor's chest and Stephen's back, and he couldn't hold back the wail as he came, because the protective, angry sound made the mad animal in him stretch and purr itself, in contentment.
Nick burst in at that, taking in the scene and Connor, running too close to his feral nature, snapped, diving at Nick, intent on driving the interloper away from his pack member. There was no time to bask in his post-orgasmic bliss. "Connor! No!" He wrenched himself away from the headboard, desperation lending him the strength to crack the wood and free his hands, dove after Connor, barely blocking him from tearing Nick limb from limb. "You'll regret it, you know you will."
Connor was lost, however, nothing human left in his movements, and Stephen cursed, diving for the drawer he kept an emergency stash of chemicals that suppressed the worst of the animal. They were in epipens, effectively, and he grabbed on, slamming it down into Connor's thigh, the closest bit of Connor he could reach. The resulting snarl and lunge left him praying it would kick in as fast for Connor as it was for him, because Connor in this state would kill him for that.
The lunge faded out halfway through as Connor's humanity reasserted itself. He collapsed to the floor, dizzy, staring up at Stephen and Nick. Then, the fact that Nick was there penetrated, Connor's dark eyes went wide and he scrambled for the bed, yanking a sheet off to cover himself up. He shot a dark look at Stephen, even as he tossed him a pillow, deliberately ignoring the comforter on the floor that would have done far better as cover. "This is your fault. Give me back my pills." He was gently untying Stephen's hands as they spoke, however.
"No," Stephen said stubbornly. "I can get you better treatment-"
Nick stared at them both. "What the fuck?" he said. It was a testament to how shocked Nick was that he was resorting to that sort of vocabulary. "What are you . . . what is wrong with you both?"
"That's sort of a long story," Stephen said, embarrassed a little at being caught. "We should probably get dressed."
"I'll be waiting outside," Nick said pointedly.
He turned and stomped out the door. Connor immediately started collecting his clothes. "You're going to give me back my pills so I can actually be a rational human being and-"
Stephen had noted that, even as Connor groused and collected his things, he was still hard, still hadn't come. That certainly wouldn't do. So, he interrupted Connor's rant by dropping to his knees in front of his ranting packmate and pretty immediately slipped his mouth over the erection. Connor stopped dead and groaned, the thread of his rant lost at once as he buried his fingers in Stephen's hair and bucked forward.
Happily humming around the cock in his mouth, Stephen played his tongue along Connor's length, caressed the tops of his thighs and his balls and in short order had brought Connor off. Connor slumped to the floor next to him, panting. "You've picked up a few things," he commented.
"No more than you," Stephen said pointedly. The picture of Helen on the counter next to them seemed to stare accusingly at him, so he flipped it face down.
That garnered Connor's attention. He frowned, flipped it back up, then his jaw dropped and he stared at Stephen. "Why in the hell do you have a picture of that psychotic bitch in your home?"
"What?" Stephen asked, baffled. "What are you talking about? That's Helen Cutter."
"Professor Cutter's wife is the psychotic bitch!?" Connor's voice rose in fury and confusion. "You . . . how could . . . she's . . ." Connor sputtered indignantly. "That's her!"
Stephen blinked. "Really? That would explain . . . a lot."
"Like what?" Connor demanded. "How could you even think of . . . of . . . she's . . ."
"I didn't know!" Stephen snapped. "Remember? I never saw her." He thought of the devotion she'd inspired in him, the need to do as she said, the way she'd dominated him . . . "I should have guessed when I let her use that strap-on," he muttered.
"You slept with her!?" Connor squawked. His eyes darkened in fury. "That's it!" he snapped. Stephen was pinned again a moment later, Connor's mouth sucking on his throat, making him hard all over again. "Clearly you can't be left to your own devices," he growled into Stephen's ear. "I'll just have to take you in hand." On the last word he brought his own hand around to cup Stephen's cock dangerously hard, and Stephen helplessly pressed into that hand. "Sleeping with Helen Cutter, Stephen? That bitch? You need a keeper."
"Yes," Stephen panted.
"What the hell!?" Nick's voice erupted from behind them.
Well, that was a mood-killer.
Go to the Primeval Archive Page
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise, I'm not making any money from it, and I'm not claiming that I am, either.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Stephen and Connor met when they were both fifteen. They meet again when they're thirty-two and twenty-four.
AN: So, with all apologies to sandyleepotts, because I'd never intended for this idea to go the route of Stephen/Connor smut, and specifically for aunteeneenah, who cheered this one on. For those who want the backstory, well, I've already written the idea down twice, once in A Twist in a Relative Timeline, and once in All in Good Time, if you want to know about the supersoldier thing and the Helen thing, it's in those two fics. For those who don't want to bother, in a nutshell, Helen kidnapped a bunch of teenagers and tried to make them into feral berserkers, was outsmarted by Stephen and Connor, who then meet up again in episode 1 of Primeval. Connor is prone to turning into a feral crazy killing machine if denied medication. That's really all you need to know.
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Stephen hadn't ever been a clumsy child or teenager, even before he'd been dragged into the distant past by soldiers in black and taken through the incipient stages of becoming a supersoldier. As one of the last, he'd never actually had the chance to see the terrifying 'She' that was the person behind it all, but Connor and the rest had assured him that some sick woman, English they all thought, was behind it.
It was years and years since the kidnap, the return, the time spent creating some way of keeping his supersenses and whatnot, and years since he'd seen Connor, who he still missed with a sharp ache.
They'd compared dates of birth and had come to the reluctant conclusion that they shouldn't meet up when they were both back. Connor was a full eight years younger than Stephen, and when Stephen was fifteen back home, Connor would be only seven. Too young for any sort of carrying on like they'd been doing, for one, and anyhow, it would be years and years before they'd met. By the time Connor was fifteen and gone and come back again, Stephen would be twenty-two. Fifteen and twenty-two was hardly better than seven and fifteen. But they both knew themselves well enough that, at the second point, they'd fall into old patterns.
So, they had shared one last night, giving in to hormones and instincts, and then Connor, the last one out because he was the best at programming computers, had sent Stephen home, and that was the last he'd seen of his . . . lover, he supposed was the best word.
When the advanced sense of smell, hearing, taste and everything else had started to fade, Stephen had felt like he was suddenly going deaf and blind. He'd buried himself in chemistry and microbiology, reconstructing partly from memory the way 'She' had made them stronger and better. He'd recreated the binding agent and had used it on himself. At thirty-two he was old enough now to know that what he'd done had been incredibly stupid, but it was too late to cry over spilt milk now, and he couldn't regret what those advantages had done for him.
The sound of feet slapping the pavement preceded a hauntingly familiar voice, and equally familiar scent. "Professor Cutter!"
Stephen just barely suppressed a gape of shock. Before he could respond, Nick had said, "Easy there," just in time for Connor to demonstrate a tremendous lack of coordination as he lost his grip on everything he was carrying. Nick turned and started walking away, and Stephen followed in his wake out of pure habit.
"Professor!" Connor said demandingly. "Professor Cutter!" He caught up with them, saying breathlessly, "Connor Temple."
Stephen was barely aware of the exchange of words as he drank in the sight of Connor's older, but still beautifully familiar face, and the telltale trace of his scent in the air. Something was wrong though, and it wasn't until they were inside Cutter's office that he could tell. Something was wrong with Connor. He was ill in some way. Something that had to explain how the graceful alpha male that still thrilled Stephen in his dreams had given way to this floppy, sloppy, all-too-human and clumsy student.
But instinct in him still thrilled to Connor's presence, and he found himself backing up Connor's wish to go to the Forest of Dean, glad for Helen's disappearance to provide an excuse to support that trip. The whole time they were in the car on the way up, he had to bury himself in unappealing mental images on the one hand, to fight off the arousal that was threatening his sanity from the scent of Connor filling the car, and to search desperately for something soothing to handle the fact that he could smell something so wrong with Connor, it made him nauseous.
It wasn't until they got to the hotel and Nick decided he needed a break and a drink that Stephen was able to get Connor alone. The moment Nick had vanished inside, he had Connor by the scruff of the neck, dragging him around a corner and out of sight. "What's wrong, Connor?"
Connor frowned, stared at him for a long moment, then said, slowly and hesitantly, "Stephen?"
"Yes, Stephen," he snapped. "Who did you think it was?"
"I . . ." his eyes darted from side to side, nervously, and there was nothing of the confident, sharp and strong alpha in him. "I didn't . . . you've changed," he said lamely.
Eyes narrowed, Stephen said, "Not that much, and anyhow, you still smell the same, Connor. You can't tell me I don't."
"I wouldn't know," Connor said slowly. "I . . . biochemistry's not my area," he told Stephen. "It was just blitz everything or be . . ." he gestured vaguely, but Stephen knew the words spinning through Connor's head. Mad, feral, dangerous, vicious, animal. "I can't . . . there are days I can barely stand up straight, and I can't smell things, hear things . . . when I saw you, I didn't think . . . you don't look the same." His eyes glazed over a little as he leaned into Stephen, a suddenly familiar movement of his head told Stephen Connor was trying to test his scent. "If I'm not careful, don't take the pills I bodged up . . ." he trailed off, a hand unconsciously going to his coat pocket.
Stephen felt a growl rumble out of his throat, and felt a pleasurable shiver as Connor, despite his current state, growled warningly in response. And using the advantage he currently had, whipped a hand into the coat pocket and pulled out the bottle that smelled like Connor's illness, compounded in one spot. "Well, biochemistry's my area, and you're off these until I've got you something that doesn't leave you half crippled."
Another growl, this one far more aggressive rumbled from Connor's chest, and he tried to spin them and pin Stephen. It didn't work, and Stephen grinned mockingly. "Don't test me, Stephen," Connor warned.
"What are you going to do?" Stephen demanded of him. "Trip on me? You're in no condition to make any threats, Connor. Let me help you."
"I-" Connor never got to reply, because Nick was calling for them. Stephen resettled himself to his normal bland persona, and Connor shook himself, all affability and clumsy exuberance again.
As the day wore on, though, he got simultaneously more tense and relaxed. On the one hand, as his sense of smell, the aggression and alpha personality regained ground, he tensed up. As his balance, strength and the scent of his packmate and beta came to him, he relaxed.
"Damnit, Stephen," he hissed as they followed behind the SFs that had been called out by that Claudia Brown woman, who seemingly worked for the government. "Give me back my pills."
"No," Stephen told him. "You don't get them back. You get to work them out of your system, and then we start from scratch."
"And if I go mad and start trying to kill everyone in sight? Those soldier won't take kindly to me going mad at them."
"What are you two talking about back there?" demanded Nick.
"Nothing," they said back simultaneously. But where Stephen had been all innocence and unsuspicious, Connor had a growl underlying his words, that all too clearly said that Nick should keep his nose out of Connor's business.
"I see that hasn't left you," Stephen muttered in his ear.
"That," Connor said derisively, "is a full mutation, and you know it."
"What is going on back there?" Nick repeated, eyes narrowed at them both.
Stephen called back, "Just catching up. I haven't seen Connor in years. Didn't even know he was going to Central Met."
The look Nick levelled at him was full of incredulity and disbelief. "Right," he said. The undertone was clear, he was planning to demand answers at the first available opportunity.
"Stop it," Connor snapped softly. "Give me back the pills. I'm seconds away from beating his head in for treating me like a halfwit."
"You don't get them back until you can take them from me," Stephen said. "And right now, alpha," he said mockingly, "You couldn't get them away from a baby." Then he leaned in closer and murmured, "And you don't want to, do you? You want to pin me down and -"
"Don't tempt me," Connor growled, but Stephen just grinned, seeing his eyes dilate and able to smell that Connor did want to.
They were left to their own devices, tracking down whatever it was that had come through, Connor's pills wearing off faster every second. He'd already got rid of his bag, dispensed with his bulky coat that hindered his movements, and was now pacing easily with Stephen. Neither of them spoke, Connor subsuming his anger at Stephen appropriating his self-treatment in the hunt, and Stephen just trying to focus on not tempting Connor.
It was hard, though, as Connor was still as whipcord slender as he'd been at fifteen, but had filled out into adulthood. And underneath those baggy trousers was a tight arse he could almost see. "Stop thinking about me buggering you," Connor said over his shoulder, "And more about the gorgonopsid."
"Is that what it is?" Stephen asked, shaken out of a fantasy of Connor pinning him to the forest floor and just . . .
"Yes, and I'll stake you out for it to eat if you don't start paying attention to the job at hand," Connor told him irritably.
They tracked it down to the school, but there wasn't room to maneouvre in the halls, and Stephen wound up in front of it, getting run down. He woke to the sight of Connor leaning anxiously over him. For a moment, a whine emerged from low in his throat, and instincts he'd long suppressed made him tilt his head submissively, deliberately inviting Connor to stake his claim.
With a so-familiar growl that made lust pool in his stomach and his blood drift downward, Connor leaned over and bit his neck gently. Stephen gasped and couldn't help but let his hips buck upward. "Connor," he moaned.
The sound of people coming roused them both. Connor fixed him with a look. "We're not done," he said. "But we'd best find that thing before it eats someones cub - kids."
"Right," Stephen agreed, levering himself to his feet.
Connor's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. "This way," he said, taking the lead at a lope. It was familiar, it was brilliant and a grin stretched over his lips as he let Connor, who had been further along the process than he was, was stronger, faster and had keener senses, take the lead. They ran through the woods, Connor eventually taking to the trees because it was more fun higher up, while Stephen just followed along the forest floor. It was exhilerating. Like being in a pack of wolves.
Eventually, though, he was forced to detour and collect the hilux. Connor landed on the roof and slid in through an open window, shooting him a look. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Stephen said as they took the car the rest of the way. "Left or right?"
"That way," Connor told him, pointing. "We could have caught it on foot, you know."
"No," Stephen corrected, "You could have caught it on foot, I could have straggled along in your wake."
And then there it was, terrorising the collected people at the base camp in front of where the anomaly had been. Stephen and Connor glanced at each other in perfect accord as Stephen rammed the thing. They hopped out, Stephen going to Nick at once to check on his friend, while Connor took a look at the creature.
"Temple!" he heard Nick shout, even as he heard it getting to it's feet. But Connor was already moving, using it as a springboard to get out of its way and into the trees. When Nick tossed him the machine gun, Stephen felt a moment of regret he and Connor wouldn't have the fun of tag-teaming it, but shook his head. Stupidity like that was what had wound up killing a few of the others back in the Permian base, and he had plans with Connor that didn't involve them getting murdered by an extinct animal.
Connor kept himself under remarkable control the whole time they were being debriefed by Sir James Lester, but some acerbic one-liners that had Cutter looking at Connor with something rather like respect still escaped. It was only by dint of imagining the cloned guards from the Permian camp dressed in bikinis and doing the hula that he was able to keep a lid on how badly he wanted Connor. When Connor got irate, skating close to the edge of purely feral behaviour, he developed a caustic wit quite different from his usual shenanigans and bad jokes.
He loved both sides of Connor's personality. The slightly shy geek, who'd lean into any affection and let Stephen lead and take care of him, and the dominant alpha that hid most of the time, but would come roaring out if provoked just right, and pin Stephen to the nearest flat surface and make him beg.
Finally finished with the Home Office, Stephen caught Connor as they left. "My place?" he asked. "I think I can give you something that'll take the edge off without nearly as many side-effects."
"Alright," Connor said.
The ride back to his flat was silent. So was the walk up the stairs. Then they were through the door, and suddenly Connor was tackling him to the floor. "I think you need a lesson in just who's the alpha," he said into Stephen's ear. Stephen whimpered in response, finally not having to think about the guards in tutus and things, and let himself get hard, let Connor press him into the floor. "I think this is going to be even better than that last time," Connor said idly as he pulled Stephen to his feet and squeezed the pulsing erection just right, shattering Stephen's thoughts into tiny pieces. "I mean, I've had so much more practice now."
He didn't bother answering, just spun around and kissed Connor. "You have no idea how much I missed you," he said. "How many times I wanted to find you and just . . ."
For a moment, Connor's dominant stance faded. "It wouldn't have worked until now, anyhow, Stephen. What would you have done? Approached me before it all happened? When I was still a child? Would you have come once I'd made it back? When you would have been arrested for corrupting a minor? Statutory rape?" He kissed Stephen gently. "I think it may have been better this way in the end." Then he pulled back. "Now, beta, strip."
He couldn't peel out of his clothes fast enough, unable to quell the grin on his lips as he saw Connor doing the same. Then, faster than human eyesight could track, Connor was across the floor, pinning him to his bed, teeth delicately sunk into the back of his neck. Stephen shuddered, unable to keep from writhing. This was what he'd looked for, why he'd fallen for Helen's blandishments. Connor growled, the demand that he be still, clear. Instead, he pushed. "You know, I have to say, from all appearances, I really ought to be the alpha, here."
Connor, far stronger than he ought to be with all his enhancements, literally tore a strip off the bedsheet beneath them, and Stephen was manhandled and tied to the the headboard, followed by Connor aiming a sharp slap across his arse that stung like hell. His cock throbbed in response. "You do look pretty like this," Connor commented, starting to hunt through the end table beside the bed, coming up with a small tube. "Here we are," he said, and started to carefully drizzle it down, sliding a finger into Stephen.
"God," Stephen groaned. Connor barely waited for him to adjust to the first finger before adding the second, finding his prostate and making him buck and thrust onto the invading digits. "So, good." A third finger, also too fast, and now it was beginning to hurt, but the hurt just reminded him that he was there to do as his alpha bid, do what he was told to please the alpha, and it just mixed with the pleasure to send his thoughts spinning off. He was slamming his hips back onto the fingers, thrusting his cock forward . . . but that was into nothing, feeling nothing touch his erection. "Please, Connor."
Connor chuckled in his ear, and began delicately teasing, letting a single finger run from the base to the head and back again. It was a taunt, and he couldn't help but twist, trying to turn that single teasing finger into something . . . more. "You want more, don't you?" Connor murmured. "Want me to wrap my fingers around your cock tight, make you shove your dick into my hand, hard and fast and let you fuck my fist until you can't help but come?"
A strangled whimper was all he could manage. The finger went away a moment, then came back, only this time it was a slick hand, tightly wrapped around him, squeezing and running up and down his cock, leaving him maddened, fingers thrusting into his arse, and hand on his cock, working him in incredible tandem, letting his hips snap back and forth as he got closer and closer to coming. "Connor! I'm going . . . I . . . so close . . ." he was at the peak, about to tip over when the fingers in his arse suddenly pulled out, and a hand clamped down on the base of his cock, stopping the orgasm dead in its tracks, making him sob. "Please!"
"I do like seeing you beg," Connor said idly, shifting his hands around, the fingers on the hand acting like a cock ring gently caressing his dick. "Now, stay still," he emphasised with another slap to the arse. It was an act of will not to keep rocking his hips into Connor's hand. Then suddenly his arse was filled and he felt Connor's cock buried in him to the hilt, the pair of them now pressed body to body. He couldn't stop the instinctive jerk backwards and received a sharp pinch to a nipple in retaliation.
They were perfectly still for a time, Stephen finding the blazing need subsiding enough that he wasn't going to explode the moment Connor let go. Somehow Connor knew, and began to fuck him then, leaving his fingers clamped around the base of Stephen's dick, his thrusts slamming repeatedly into Stephen's prostate, rapidly driving him mad again. Connor sped up his thrusts.
A sudden pounding on the door to his flat distracted them both. "Stephen?" It was Nick. "Stephen, I really need to talk to you." Connor's fingers let go and a growl vibrated in his chest, loud and warning. "Stephen?" Nick's voice was suddenly filled with fear and concern. He'd clearly heard the sound. "Are you alright?"
Another growl, this one vibrating through the contact between Connor's chest and Stephen's back, and he couldn't hold back the wail as he came, because the protective, angry sound made the mad animal in him stretch and purr itself, in contentment.
Nick burst in at that, taking in the scene and Connor, running too close to his feral nature, snapped, diving at Nick, intent on driving the interloper away from his pack member. There was no time to bask in his post-orgasmic bliss. "Connor! No!" He wrenched himself away from the headboard, desperation lending him the strength to crack the wood and free his hands, dove after Connor, barely blocking him from tearing Nick limb from limb. "You'll regret it, you know you will."
Connor was lost, however, nothing human left in his movements, and Stephen cursed, diving for the drawer he kept an emergency stash of chemicals that suppressed the worst of the animal. They were in epipens, effectively, and he grabbed on, slamming it down into Connor's thigh, the closest bit of Connor he could reach. The resulting snarl and lunge left him praying it would kick in as fast for Connor as it was for him, because Connor in this state would kill him for that.
The lunge faded out halfway through as Connor's humanity reasserted itself. He collapsed to the floor, dizzy, staring up at Stephen and Nick. Then, the fact that Nick was there penetrated, Connor's dark eyes went wide and he scrambled for the bed, yanking a sheet off to cover himself up. He shot a dark look at Stephen, even as he tossed him a pillow, deliberately ignoring the comforter on the floor that would have done far better as cover. "This is your fault. Give me back my pills." He was gently untying Stephen's hands as they spoke, however.
"No," Stephen said stubbornly. "I can get you better treatment-"
Nick stared at them both. "What the fuck?" he said. It was a testament to how shocked Nick was that he was resorting to that sort of vocabulary. "What are you . . . what is wrong with you both?"
"That's sort of a long story," Stephen said, embarrassed a little at being caught. "We should probably get dressed."
"I'll be waiting outside," Nick said pointedly.
He turned and stomped out the door. Connor immediately started collecting his clothes. "You're going to give me back my pills so I can actually be a rational human being and-"
Stephen had noted that, even as Connor groused and collected his things, he was still hard, still hadn't come. That certainly wouldn't do. So, he interrupted Connor's rant by dropping to his knees in front of his ranting packmate and pretty immediately slipped his mouth over the erection. Connor stopped dead and groaned, the thread of his rant lost at once as he buried his fingers in Stephen's hair and bucked forward.
Happily humming around the cock in his mouth, Stephen played his tongue along Connor's length, caressed the tops of his thighs and his balls and in short order had brought Connor off. Connor slumped to the floor next to him, panting. "You've picked up a few things," he commented.
"No more than you," Stephen said pointedly. The picture of Helen on the counter next to them seemed to stare accusingly at him, so he flipped it face down.
That garnered Connor's attention. He frowned, flipped it back up, then his jaw dropped and he stared at Stephen. "Why in the hell do you have a picture of that psychotic bitch in your home?"
"What?" Stephen asked, baffled. "What are you talking about? That's Helen Cutter."
"Professor Cutter's wife is the psychotic bitch!?" Connor's voice rose in fury and confusion. "You . . . how could . . . she's . . ." Connor sputtered indignantly. "That's her!"
Stephen blinked. "Really? That would explain . . . a lot."
"Like what?" Connor demanded. "How could you even think of . . . of . . . she's . . ."
"I didn't know!" Stephen snapped. "Remember? I never saw her." He thought of the devotion she'd inspired in him, the need to do as she said, the way she'd dominated him . . . "I should have guessed when I let her use that strap-on," he muttered.
"You slept with her!?" Connor squawked. His eyes darkened in fury. "That's it!" he snapped. Stephen was pinned again a moment later, Connor's mouth sucking on his throat, making him hard all over again. "Clearly you can't be left to your own devices," he growled into Stephen's ear. "I'll just have to take you in hand." On the last word he brought his own hand around to cup Stephen's cock dangerously hard, and Stephen helplessly pressed into that hand. "Sleeping with Helen Cutter, Stephen? That bitch? You need a keeper."
"Yes," Stephen panted.
"What the hell!?" Nick's voice erupted from behind them.
Well, that was a mood-killer.
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