Fic: We Need a Holiday (part 3)
Title: We Need a Holiday
Author: casy_dee
Rating: M
Characters/Pairing: Connor/Abby
Spoiler: S4 (slight)
Warning: smut! Violence
Genre: Action Adventure, romance and smut
Chapter: 3/ 3
Summary: This is a little fic for evenstar_estel who needs a little cheering, and I have incorporated her lovely conbykink prompt in, as well. Abby and Connor finally get a well deserved romantic holiday... only trouble always seems to find them.
Prompt: Abby and Connor are missing the more pleasant aspects of their time in the Cretaceous, specifically the beauty and purity of nature. In wanting to recapture some of that, they steal away to a secluded forest for lots of sex in the great outdoors.
Part One is Here
Part Two is Here
A/N: Sorry for the delay! I hope it proves worth it! Ooohhh, I iz nervous!
Part 3
What in the hell was Becker doing there? And Abby wasn’t buying his bullshit line about being on holiday. Becker didn’t take holidays.
“You were sent as a baby-minder, weren’t you?” Abby accused.
Becker’s face went opaque; she’d not get a different answer from him. That cemented it for her though; he had either been sent to watch them, or he’d come to look out for them of his own accord. Either way, Abby was not pleased with the implication that they needed looking after. She and Connor had survived quite well all on their own… although in this instance she had to admit she was pretty happy that he was here.
A whimper escaped Connor’s lips, despite how tightly he had them pressed together. He was trying to just get out, and here was Becker and Abby arguing about ridiculous things. He wasn’t happy about Becker looking after them like errant children either… and he was sure once his body stopped protesting he would be more concerned, but at the moment all he wanted was to have a lie down. And pain pills. Maybe some Wild Turkey as a chaser. All three would be best, with a side of Abby.
“Connor? Let’s get you to hospital,” Abby insisted, breaking off her argument with Becker… for now.
“No. No, I want to go to our island. M’fine. Just need to rest.”
“Temple, you can hardly stand. You’re going-” Becker began.
Connor raised his head, his jaw set stubbornly, “I said no,” he replied, his voice low and deceptively calm.
Abby looked back and forth between the two men as they stared each other down. She was hoping she could enlist Becker’s aid in convincing Connor to get checked out, but the hope died as an understanding passed between them in that silent stare. Becker nodded, accepting Connor's request.
“Alright, but I’m taking you to your hut myself, and after Abby examines you, if she decides you need to go to hospital, you’re going,” Becker said.
For a tense second, she thought Connor was about to argue again, but then he simply nodded and let himself sag against her again.
Connor was quiet on the boat ride to their island. He lay with his eyes closed and his head in Abby’s lap, as he had so many times in the Cretaceous. Everything hurt, from his pounding head to his aching body to his legs where the rope had dug into him as he’d struggled to escape. It had all been his fault, and he wondered why Abby even tolerated being near him, much less why she was carefully stroking his hair, avoiding the cut on his scalp.
Trust him to muck things up. He should have just gone with the standard tourist package, but no, he had to do something special. Well this certainly classified as special, at any rate. He’d had to be rescued. A team had to come for them, which meant the entire ARC would know of it. He had enough to contend with already without people doubting him… more than they already did. More than he doubted himself. He thought that sort of thing was behind him, at least he'd hoped it was.
As it turned out, Becker was staying in the next hut over, a mile down the beach. He would continue to stay there, despite Abby’s protests. He maintained that he was on holiday, specifically, he was training for a triathlon. Abby had given up the fight; she had bigger things to worry about. Connor had withdrawn completely into himself, and she wasn’t sure whether it was from pain, or guilt, or what exactly. The only thing he’d said to her was that he was sorry… which was ridiculous, and she’d told him so. He'd not spoken another word since.
Abby’s jaw dropped as she beheld the “hut” Connor had reserved for them. She’d expected something akin to a tiki hut, but this was a palatial beach house. Open and airy, with large windows and wooden floors, a wraparound porch with a view of the beach, a deep Jacuzzi tub and a king size four poster bed. It was beautiful and perfect. Abby promised Becker she’d ring him if she needed help and shooed him away. She figured Connor would not want anyone present whilst she examined him.
“Connor… this is lovely!” she smiled.
He just grunted and sank into the sofa, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. She sighed and bit back the diatribe that was circling inside her head. Connor was in his own private pity party, she was sure of it, but having a go at him was the last thing she should do if there was any hope of salvaging their holiday. She pressed two of the narcotic painkillers that the medic on the rescue team had given her into Connor’s hand along with a glass of water.
“Okay. Let’s have a look at you,” she said as soon as he’d swallowed them.
He sighed and let her help him out of his shirt, and then peeled his vest up as high as he could, wincing as he did so, and let her pull it off the rest of the way. Her manner was brusque, but her hands were gentle, as they always were, telling him by way of soft caress how concerned she was for him. He was bruised black and purple over one side of his ribcage, and she saw the edge of another livid bruise disappearing under his waistband.
She reached to unfasten his belt, but he stilled her with his hand on hers, “I’ve got it. I‘ve got to go to the toilet anyway.”
“We’ll rinse out that cut on your head when you’ve finished. Just shout when you’re ready,” she replied as she stood and offered him a hand up.
He nodded and let her help him to his feet, stifling a groan of distress, and slowly made his way to the loo. The fact of it was that he’d not wanted her to see how much he was suffering. He was sure once the narcotic kicked in that he’d be right as rain, but until then he’d rather keep just how badly he was hurting to himself. He’d rather not have to go to hospital, and Abby would insist.
He unfastened his belt and the zip of his jeans, and then eased them down and over his hips. He clenched his jaw, determined not to cry out, but it was agony just to get his trousers down. He braced a hand against the wall, sweat breaking out on his forehead, the stab of pain bringing about a wave of nausea that left him weak. He swallowed hard when he realized just how hard that blow to his kidney must have been. Abby would most definitely send him to hospital if she knew.
Afterwards, he sat carefully and took deep fortifying breaths in and out until he could stomach getting his trousers the rest of the way off. He couldn’t help the noise of indignation he made when he realized he was still wearing his boots. The thought of having to bend over with the pain in his ribs was enough to make him want to cry in frustration. He needed Abby’s help. He needed her help to get his bloody boots off. Damn it.
Abby came to check on him when he failed to reappear after a few moments. She helped him undress to his boxer shorts without comment, thankfully, although she gasped as she saw all the marks upon his body. Most were superficial, and within a few days he doubted if he’d feel them at all, but it looked pretty colorful against his pale skin. The worst of it was where he’d been hit in the kidney, the blow to his ribs, and his bits were still feeling a little tender. She muttered something about Badger Balm or BioFreeze under her breath, and he fervently hoped she hadn't any of that Badger stuff hidden away anywhere. It smelled horrid, and it burned, despite how much Abby insisted it helped.
Abby turned on the taps and checked the water temperature to make sure it wouldn’t be too hot or cold for Connor, and then pulled the lever to use the hand sprayer. She bid him to sit next to the tub and lean his head over so she could rinse out all the clotted blood in his hair. The laceration itself wasn’t large, but head wounds always bled out terribly. She directed the flow over his head, her fingers careful as she worked to unknot the dark strands of his hair. He didn’t make a sound, but she saw the muscles of his shoulders knot as the spray hit a tender area.
“Sorry. I’m going as easy as I can,” she murmured.
He grunted again instead of answering her. It made her angry, but she managed to keep from saying anything. Connor yelped as her anger manifested itself when she pulled on a tangle a bit harder than necessary. Oops. She took a moment to compose herself and started again. The water ran rusty red down the drain, a visceral reminder that once again, she’d come close to losing Connor. This time it hadn’t even been work related. It made her want to scream for the unfairness of it all. They put their lives on the line every day, and Connor had tried so hard to plan this lovely holiday for them free from all the troubles they faced every day. She was still willing to give saving their holiday a go, but Connor had to do his part as well. It seemed this warranted drastic measures.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “But you need to stop pouting, Connor. I don’t blame you for what happened, and since you insist on continuing our holiday, I don’t plan to spend it with you wallowing in your own pity. Snap out of it.”
He turned his head to glare at her, ignoring the water that ran in rivulets down his back and chest. He took the proffered towel and pushed himself to standing.
His nostrils flared as his body vibrated with emotion, barely held in check, “You could have been killed.”
“Is that what this is about?” she asked.
Eyes flashing, his mouth opened and closed as he tried to put into words the conflict roiling inside of him. Part of him wanted to run away as far and as fast as he could, and another part of him wanted to crush her to him and bury himself inside of her to reaffirm the fact that she was a vibrant living being, and he hadn’t lost her. He had been terrified of what they had done with her when he‘d waken up tied to a chair and alone, and he never ever wanted to go through anything like that again. It was different than the purely physical danger that their job put them in. Those men… what they would have done to his Abby, and it would have been his fault. He would never forgive himself. He swallowed hard and stormed out of the bathroom and through the front door.
Abby watched openmouthed as he ran from her. She didn’t know what had gotten into him, but she was going to sort it out if it killed her. She followed, stopping at the front door. She wanted to follow him down to the beach, but she thought better of it. Maybe he needed a little time alone to calm down first. She made sure he hadn’t gone too far, and then left him to it. She wandered around the hut aimlessly, heartsick and saddened by the state of things. Connor was in pain, but he’d refused her help. No. She hadn’t exactly offered it. More like she’d scolded him for being ‘mardy’ as he’d call it. She started using his words now… gah. It always made him smile when she did that, a product of hours spent together with only the other for company. He’d done the same though, picking up her words in turn. You’d think as much time as they’d spent together that he wouldn’t still be so confusing.
Connor didn’t know why he’d come out to the beach, just that in that moment, seeing Abby’s crystalline blue eyes staring back at him without the slightest hint of accusation... It had been too much. She’d not blamed him for any of it, and she should have. He closed his eyes and let the warm moist air from the ocean wash over him, hoping it would help to clear his mind. The narcotic had helped; the oxycodone painted the edge of the pain with a softer finish. He felt it still, but it had receded to a dull ache.
This was the rainy season and it felt like one of the tropical rains typical for this time of year was headed inland. Abby liked the rain, he mused. She would stand out in it, spread her arms wide and turn her face to the sky in invitation. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as his thoughts turned to her once again; why had he run from her when all he wanted was to hold her? He closed his eyes as the rain began to fall and let the it wash the tears from his face.
Abby watched Connor, worried for him. He was stood a few meters past the porch of the beach house, just outside the circle of light from the house. His head was down, shoulders slumped, no doubt deep in the process of self-flagellation. When the rain began to come, he just crossed his arms over his chest and turned his face to the sky. The rain wouldn’t chase him inside… not this time. Abby knew there was but one way to convince him that he needed to put the events of the evening behind them. She stripped down out of her clothing, leaving it to fall on the floor, and strode purposefully towards Connor. She was not about to have this. Not on their holiday.
She hadn’t intended to sneak up behind him, but the soft sand muffled her steps. She dropped the reed mats she’d nicked from the porch on the ground and he started, turning to face her with an almost comical look of surprise on his face.
“Abby, I-” he started to speak, halting as she realized she was naked, “What’re you-”
She sidled up next to him and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist as she laid her head on his chest. After a heartbeat, his arms came around her. He held her so tightly she knew it had to hurt him as bruised as he was, but he didn’t seem to notice nor to care. She closed her eyes and drank in the sensation of him surrounding her; his solid presence a comfort... he'd always been there for her, even when she hadn't been there for him. She loved him so much it hurt, and she wanted to show him; she wanted him inside of her. Right here on the rocky beach, with the rain and the wind and the ocean crashing in the background.
He pulled away far enough to capture her mouth in a scorching kiss, putting all that he couldn’t say into it. Trying to tell her by his body how much he adored her. He’d walk through fire for her, and it killed him to think he’d put her in danger. He'd wanted to die when he thought they had her... would have done, had it been true. Compared to the pain of that, his physical injuries were nothing. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, and it seemed sometimes as if the world was intent on pummeling him until he broke... but as long as he still had her, he never would. He deepened the kiss, tasting rain on her lips… tasted like tears.
“What would I do without you?” he asked.
She gave him a ghost of a smile, “I don’t plan to ever let you find out.”
His dark eyes grave, he shook his head, “You don’t understand. I need you, Abby.”
She caressed his cheek, “I do understand. You think I don’t need you? ‘Cause I do. You’re mine, Connor Temple, like it or not.”
His lips turned upward in a soft smile, his dimple making the briefest of appearances before he closed the distance between them again. This kiss was soft and tender, though no less passionate. He took his time to explore her mouth, languid sweeps of his tongue that left her wanting more. Connor fed upon her neck and throat, mouthed her collarbone and dipped down further to sample her breasts in the same maddingly slow but deliciously thorough fashion. Abby pushed his boxers down his hips, desperate to feel him skin to skin. She tunneled her fingers into the dark mass of his hair, careful to avoid the sore area, and held him to her as he tasted her, licking away the raindrops as they fell.
She undulated against him, her body aching for him. He obliged her, his long skillful fingers sought out her aching center. He massaged her slick folds expertly, his thumb circled, the pressure enough to make her come completely undone, and then he'd switch to sharp flicks from tips of his fingers, or a slow rub with the whole of his hand on her sex as he kissed her breathless and licked and nipped at her breasts. When he broke away, they were both panting and ready. He spread out the reed mats below them and then sat, pulling her into his lap. He wanted to watch her face; he wanted to see the emotions on her face as he made love to her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her hot core against him, the sensation of her slick heat sliding along his hard shaft elicited a low moan from his throat. He drew in a deep shuddering breath; he didn't think he could wait. She made that slow slide again, a soft sharp cry escaping her lips as he whimpered with need. His dark eyes were clouded with lust and love and a barely repressed hunger that she was determined to sate. She pressed a soft kiss to the cut on his lip, then the bruise on his cheek, her eyes tender and sorrowful. The muscle ticked in his jaw as he registered the intense emotions behind that soft touch, and she kissed his flexing jaw, too. She inhaled him into her lungs as she nibbled along his well-defined stubbled jaw then down his delectable neck as she slid her wet folds against his hard cock again. His hands convulsed and his body trembled, betraying the fierce desire burning inside of him. She didn't think she could hold back much longer either. Connor settled his hands on her hips, encouraging her as she ground against him.
She pulled back and locked her gaze with his, and then shifted and impaled herself on him with one swift stroke. He threw his head back and echoed her cry; and then fastened his mouth to hers possessively as she began to move. She set a slow but deliberate pace, nearly unsheathing completely before sinking into him as deeply as she could, grinding her swollen clit against him at the culmination of each stroke. He swallowed down her gasping breaths as he kissed her; he wanted to posses even her breath, all of her... everything. His hands skimmed over her, pausing to fondle her tight nipples, to caress her skin. He touched her as if her were worshiping her... each and every time. He gasped as she circled with her hips, the pleasure mounting. Her hands moved over his rain slick flesh, delighting in the feel of taut wiry muscle under soft skin. Oh, how she needed him... how could he ever doubt that she needed him desperately?
She shuddered as the first wave of the orgasm took her unawares; Connor gave a strangled cry as her inner muscles clenched on his thick shaft, the sensation sending him over the edge along with her. Pleasure crashed over and through them both, their bodies frantically striving towards release. They clung to each other, desperate for an anchor in the midst of it, but found none, lost in the maelstrom. Their souls strove towards the other, entangling as they cried out beneath the rain and the sky... their union one of more than flesh and bone.
They clung to each other afterwards, shell-shocked by the power of their coupling. It had erased all doubts and uncertainties; they were meant to be together. Connor had no doubt that had they lived another life in any other universe, any divergent timeline, any other world... they would be together. Some things couldn't be denied, and whatever it was that was between himself and Abby was one of those things. She was his, and he was hers, and nothing could stop it, stifle it, break it or bind it. Not even death.
"You believe that?" she asked softly.
He hadn't intended to say it aloud, but perhaps it shouldn't matter. He closed his eyes and felt the wind and the rain on his face, her body still wrapped around him. He understood it now; he understood why she turned her face to the sky to feel the rain. It was as if the force of creation had spoken to his soul, “Yes, I believe it, with everything in me."
Her lips trembled, struck by the emotion his heartfelt words had stirred inside of her, "That's beautiful."
He tried to answer, to explain that it was just what he'd felt, and he'd not meant that he owned her because he knew he couldn't do that. Hell, he didn't want to do that... but his tongue tied now that he was trying to speak and he knew he must sound a fool. Abby just smiled indulgently as she watched him struggle for words and kissed him softly.
"Me too," she admitted.
END
Quite a few soundtracks for this one. Stone Sour's "Say You'll Haunt Me" and Skillet's "Comotose" are a couple.
I surely hope that ya'll enjoyed this, and please tell me what you thought?