Head looks like a melon (computers hate me)
Whyfor do you hate me, internet connection? Whyfor do you cut out and leave me for days, then swan back into my life without explanation for your absence? Haven't I always been good to you baby? Haven't I spent literally hours roaming all over you? Haven't I looked at pictures of things that have scarred my brain for LIFE for you? Whyfor ya gotta treat me like this?
***
And, as well as my erstwhile dear buggering off and leaving me, I have also had to deal with something that made me want to smash my head against the nearest concrete surface - you know Schrödinger's Bat? You know how it was finished? You know I was posting it? Yeah...
You know how other people's computers will sometimes infect your data key and corrupt all the data?
*completely hysterical laughter*
Yes. I am now in the position of trying to paste this fic back together from various drafts and remember how the large amount that I hadn't got backed up elsewhere went. (I am backing up at every third fucking keystroke from now on - I lost other stuff as well and have spent a few days in a VERY bad mood.)
So this one is on hiatus AGAIN, and I'm seriously starting to think it doesn't want to be told at all. I'm not even going to speculate when it'll be up, though I do have time to work on it so hopefully soon. Teach me to post it all the second it's finished next time.
Really, words cannot express how hacked off I am about this. Happy frickin Birthday to me :(
In the meantime, here's the rimming extract, which was saved elsewhere (thank you fredbasset! If it wasn't for puppy peeing on the carpet that bit would probably have gone as well!). I'm gonna post this because I thought some of you might reach through the internet and strangle me otherwise :)
*****
Connor had never in his life been so glad to see a bed. He nearly moaned at the thought of lying down.
But first -
Oh god. Oh yes.
If he thought he’d been glad to see the bed… well, he nearly had a bloody orgasm when he saw the shower. He left his filthy and still sopping wet clothes in a pile in the corner - they were so soiled he was fairly sure he’d have to chuck them, and he didn’t really need a reminder of today anyway. And then…
He did moan now. Long and low. Hot water: invention of the GODS.
He braced his hands against the tiles and let the water cascade over his neck and shoulders. He was tempted to not bother dragging his sore and sorry arse out of the shower to bed - to just lean his head against his arms and go to sleep here and now - but eventually he straightened up with a groan and started washing himself down.
It took two shampoos to get all of the gritty mud out of his hair and the bathroom was so steamy when he turned off the water that he almost expected to see Diane Fossey in the doorway.
He saw Ryan instead.
He was so used to his lover’s creep skills now - and so bloody exhausted - that he barely jumped. He half expected to see heavily armed soldiers appear at any moment now anyway - and wasn’t THAT a strange reflection on his life.
Connor smiled wearily at Ryan as he wrapped a towel round his waist, and he indulged himself by leaning against the other man’s strong, solid body for a moment, resting his head against that cropped, dirty blonde hair. God, he could just sleep like this as well.
But that wasn’t really Ryan’s thing, was it? The relationship he and the soldier had was friendly enough, and the man seemed perfectly willing to try out any sexual ideas, but you didn’t really cuddle up with the SAS. Their motto was ‘Who Dares Wins’ not ‘Who Wants a Hug?’
So he forced himself back (and ok, maybe he nuzzled a little, but he’d had a hard day and he was allowed to indulge himself a bit, surely?). He gave Ryan another smile - that was probably more of a grimace - and moved to let him into the bathroom. He assumed that was why he’d come up to the room.
He collapsed face first onto one of the two beds and let out another small groan. Every single muscle he had felt like he’d been wrestling with T-Rex’s all day (which wasn’t that far off really) and he ached like a bastard.
“You sore, Temple?”
Connor twisted onto his side and saw that Ryan was standing by the bed, looking at him with a slight frown. He nodded and tried to smile, but failed. He definitely wasn’t feeling his usual happy self tonight, but he had a go at joking about it
“Yeah, I feel like I got trampled on. Oh, wait - I did get trampled on. And thrown around. And nearly drowned.”
He turned onto his back and threw an arm across his face
“God! I’m so sick of being the damsel in distress all the time!” (and that was absolutely not a lump of self-pity in his throat)
“Roll over”
“What?”
Connor removed the arm and saw that Ryan was stripping down for his shower, which kind of cheered him up a bit because, hello? Naked Ryan was very nice to look at. But why did he want Connor to roll over? And why was he taking a bottle of lotion out of his bag?
Ryan quirked an eyebrow at him and said
“I said roll over. I’ll rub you down - loosen you up a bit”
Right. With all the exercise soldiers did they must get used to giving muscle rubs.
Connor had a brief mental image of Ryan and Rob oiling each other up and realized that a certain part of him wasn’t as tired as the rest of him. He rolled over quickly before Ryan noticed. He was sure Ryan would want to do this quickly so he could get back down and have a drink with the others and Connor didn’t want him feeling he had to do anything out of obligation. He didn’t want a pity fuck thank you very much (although that same certain part was doing its best to change his mind on that)
He stiffened slightly when he felt Ryan straddle his thighs, but then relaxed at the first stroke. Strong, knowing fingers kneaded and massaged away the ache, concentrating on knots of tension with a pressure that was almost painful until they melted away.
Connor felt like he was melting as well, dissolving into a puddle of warm, oozy happiness.
And the happy just kept coming as Ryan’s hands went lower and tugged his towel loose, and then warm, dry lips brushed over his shoulders and made their way down and over his back. It seemed Ryan wasn’t that interested in going down for a drink right now. Brilliant!
Ryan was placing small, butterfly kisses on his lower back now and was shifting and nudging Connor’s legs apart so he could kneel between them, pulling at his hips until he raised them up. Ryan smoothed his hands over the cheeks of Connor’s bum and that was nice so he wiggled a bit, and then -
Connor yelped and twisted to look back at Ryan
“No biting my bum! I have enough things trying to eat my arse without you starting as well!”
Oops. Judging by the evil look in Ryan’s eye that had really been the wrong thing to say, and as Ryan flashed his teeth in a wicked smile and leant forward Connor braced himself for -
“NnnnGHHHH!!”
ohsweetjesusgod
Not the teeth he was expecting, not a bite. Instead there was… ohgodohgodohgod - there was a tongue. Ryan was licking his tongue over Connor’s aresehole! His TONGUE!
And it was all warm and wet he was swirling it around and giving these long, looonng licks and actually pushing the tip inside!! and Oh.God.
Sweet baby jesus and all the little smurfs. That. Felt. Amazing.
He must have said that out loud because Ryan chuckled behind him (nearly sending Connor’s brain dribbling out of his ears because of how good the vibrations felt) and pulled away to say
“You often prey to little blue men, Temple?”
But before Connor could scream at him to fuck the smurfs (though not, you know, literally) and get back to what he was doing Ryan put his head down again, put his thumbs by Connor’s hole to open him up so wide it almost hurt, and started tongue-fucking him in earnest.
Connor decided then and there that Captain Tom Ryan had obviously been put on this earth by God to do this and the tiny, tiny bit of Connor’s brain that could still think began making plans to rob a bank or kidnap the pope for ransom or something that would mean Ryan could quit his day job and do nothing but this all day (and the pope surely wouldn’t mind because this was helping someone fulfill their deity appointed duty right?) but the rest of Connor’s brain was caught in a loop of yesyesyesyesyesyesmoremoreyesyesyes and he was pushing himself back onto Ryan’s face - couldn’t help himself, but by the encouraging noises Ryan was making he didn’t mind and ohgod, please let him make those noises again ‘cos that was so good and yesyesyes, he’d put his fingers in now, was licking and sucking and tonguing around the fingers he’d put in Connor’s arse and ohjesus, ohgod, this was too good, this was too much, this was going to make him…
Come.
With a scream that they probably heard downstairs.
***
Connor felt he should say something. Something deep and profound, that truly encapsulated his feelings.
“Bloody fucking hell!”
Yup. That about summed up his feelings deeply and profoundly.
“Jesus H Christ on a bike…”
And that was good as well. Anything that was a combination of profanity or blasphemy would do really. Or inarticulate vowel sounds would do just as well.
“Liked that, did you?”
Ryan’s voice was low and amused, with a rough, hungry undercurrent.
Connor grunted at him. He really didn’t feel the question deserved a sensible answer because he’d just shot his load all over the bed without even touching himself due to the tongue in his arse! So he just sprawled there instead, so relaxed and boneless he may as well have been filleted.
****
***
I've been catching up on the comment porn thread that fred started and there's some brilliant stuff on there. I am most upset that I didn't get to play.
And I was going to introduce you all to the wonders of Oliver Leek porn *sulks*
(no, not really! I'm not that twisted)