primeval fic
Title; Stuck in the middle with you.
Rating; NC-17
Pairing; Connor/Becker/Ryan
Warnings; smutty smutty smut
Authors notes; written in paper on a train and posted by phone. If the formatting is borked I apologise and will fix later. Typed on my phone whilst waiting ti see Darren Crie
Connor's in the middle again. As far as Connor can remember he's always in the middle if its the three of them. Either that or its him and Ryan, or him and Becker.
Right now he has the younger captain below him, bodies pressed together along their entire length as Becker's hand turns Connor into a rapidly melting lump of human, toying with his balls and cock almost mercilessly. His captain's have already wrung two orgasms from his sweat soaked body this evening and seem determined to go for a third.
Ryan's tongue is doing wonderful things to his already sore, abused, arse. Pressing and flicking over it in ways that make Connor buck forward into Becker's hands and then back onto Ryan's tongue.
He's pretty sure the orgasm he can feel building is going to kill him, or at the very least maim him mentally.
"Fuck." He groans into Becker's shoulder as a thick, calloused finger works into him and presses, hard, too fucking hard, on his prostate. Well, he thinks he groans but judging by Becker's wince and mutter of 'jesus christ Conn, my eardrums,' he may have screamed it.
He finally gets his train of thought back when Ryan let's up the pressure enough for him to breathe. He's always in the middle, he wants to see them playing with each other. Becker on his knees with Ryan's fingers spreading him open. Ryan swallowing around Becker's cock lodged in his throat as Connor watches.
That image, coupled with a particularly vicious twist of Ryan's fingers inside him and Becker's wrist around him, so in sync he thinks that being a special forces captain requires telepathy, pushes him over the edge. He bites down on Becker's shoulder hard, knowing it'll bruise even as supernovas explode before his eyes.
Becker's lips are pressed to his neck, pressing spit slick and bitten lipped kisses into the skin there, small nips of his teeth dragging the sensation (painpleasurepainpleasure) out longer than Connor wants but clearly what Connor craves. Ryan's fingers are still in him, but his tongue is moving, just small, he assumes supposed to be soothing, strokes over the skin.
He finally slumps, spent and filthy, letting Becker take his weight after what feels like hours.
"Broken." He mumbled into the fevered skin under his mouth, and his slitted open eyes can just make out the teeth marks he made, and he notes with detachment how they'll likely bruise. He manages to lift a hand enough to poke a finger into the centre of the bite mark, grinning weakly when Becker jerks and slaps him on the arse once.
"Little brat." The captain mutters. Biting into Connor's neck hard enough he knows he's wearing a scarf to work the next.day, easier than explaining to Stephen how its consensual, and no he's not being abused (well no more than he wants to be anyway) thank you very much.
That said the shiver he gets when Stephen *glares at Becker, and he only ever seems to glare at Becker, is kinda nice, so maybe no scarf?
"Stephen doesn't like you." He mumbled as Ryan slides his fingers from Connor, who winces at the sensation.
"No; Stephen doesn't like me fucking you. There's a difference." Becker says rolling Connor onto the bed and grimacing at the state of them both. "We're disgusting."
Connor hears Ryan's low chuckle as he moves off through bed and saunters, fucking saunters, into the bathroom and returns with damp flannel, he flicks one at Becker and uses the other to clean himself up.
Becker cleans them both up and flings the cloth back to Ryan, aiming for his face, Ryan deftly moves, catches it and throws both into the sink with a resounding splat.
"Why do you only ever fuck me?" Connor asks, half way to sleep, but right now it seems like the most important question ever.
"We don't just fuck you, there was way more than fucking there, right Hils?"
"Definitely."
Connor doesn't need to look up to know they are wearing matching grins, and he shifts over to lie on Becker as Ryan slides the duvet up and over the three of them.
"Not what I mean. You never do anything with each other. Just me. Why?" He sighs as Ryan's arm goes around his waist, splaying fingers over Becker's stomach, and Becker's hand settles on his hip.
"Because we love you." Ryan says, dropping a kiss to the back of Connor's neck.
"But you don't love each other?" Connor asks. For some reason he feels stupidly young anew naive, and his first reaction is to burrow bids face into Becker's chest and muffled what he says next. "Why are you both here then?"
He feels Becker laugh, Ryan's answering huff of breath against the back of his neck and hue indignation flares.
"Fine, laugh at me." He tries to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs on the bed, pushing up on Becker's chest and feeling Ryan's arms tighten, holding him still.
"Not laughing at you, Conn." Becker says, hand reaching up to touch his face and run a thumb over his lips. "Never at you. I do love Tom, I do."
"And I love Hils. Stop wriggling Connor, please its...distracting."
Connors looking down, at the pillows,the sheets, anywhere but into Becker's eyes.
"Conn, look at me please?" He hates the tone in Becker's voice. It sounds like pleading and its wrong, oh so wrong.
He looks up, letting Becker press a kiss to his lips, soft, sweet, loving.
"Can we talk about this tomorrow? It's late, we're tired, and you Pet get cranky when you're tired." Ryan's voice is quiet but Connor feels every word against his back where they have become pressed together.
"I just..." Becker cuts him off with a kiss. Still slow and sweet. Pulling back he looks into Connor's eyes.
"I will prove it tomorrow night, just please Connor, sleep. Now."
"But..." Ryan's growl cuts him off, and makes him shiver.
"Tomorrow night. Just please, sleep." Becker says, letting his hand slip past Connor's head and his fingers touch Ryan's cheek softly.
"Ok but I'll hold you to it. Tomorrow night."
Rating; NC-17
Pairing; Connor/Becker/Ryan
Warnings; smutty smutty smut
Authors notes; written in paper on a train and posted by phone. If the formatting is borked I apologise and will fix later. Typed on my phone whilst waiting ti see Darren Crie
Connor's in the middle again. As far as Connor can remember he's always in the middle if its the three of them. Either that or its him and Ryan, or him and Becker.
Right now he has the younger captain below him, bodies pressed together along their entire length as Becker's hand turns Connor into a rapidly melting lump of human, toying with his balls and cock almost mercilessly. His captain's have already wrung two orgasms from his sweat soaked body this evening and seem determined to go for a third.
Ryan's tongue is doing wonderful things to his already sore, abused, arse. Pressing and flicking over it in ways that make Connor buck forward into Becker's hands and then back onto Ryan's tongue.
He's pretty sure the orgasm he can feel building is going to kill him, or at the very least maim him mentally.
"Fuck." He groans into Becker's shoulder as a thick, calloused finger works into him and presses, hard, too fucking hard, on his prostate. Well, he thinks he groans but judging by Becker's wince and mutter of 'jesus christ Conn, my eardrums,' he may have screamed it.
He finally gets his train of thought back when Ryan let's up the pressure enough for him to breathe. He's always in the middle, he wants to see them playing with each other. Becker on his knees with Ryan's fingers spreading him open. Ryan swallowing around Becker's cock lodged in his throat as Connor watches.
That image, coupled with a particularly vicious twist of Ryan's fingers inside him and Becker's wrist around him, so in sync he thinks that being a special forces captain requires telepathy, pushes him over the edge. He bites down on Becker's shoulder hard, knowing it'll bruise even as supernovas explode before his eyes.
Becker's lips are pressed to his neck, pressing spit slick and bitten lipped kisses into the skin there, small nips of his teeth dragging the sensation (painpleasurepainpleasure) out longer than Connor wants but clearly what Connor craves. Ryan's fingers are still in him, but his tongue is moving, just small, he assumes supposed to be soothing, strokes over the skin.
He finally slumps, spent and filthy, letting Becker take his weight after what feels like hours.
"Broken." He mumbled into the fevered skin under his mouth, and his slitted open eyes can just make out the teeth marks he made, and he notes with detachment how they'll likely bruise. He manages to lift a hand enough to poke a finger into the centre of the bite mark, grinning weakly when Becker jerks and slaps him on the arse once.
"Little brat." The captain mutters. Biting into Connor's neck hard enough he knows he's wearing a scarf to work the next.day, easier than explaining to Stephen how its consensual, and no he's not being abused (well no more than he wants to be anyway) thank you very much.
That said the shiver he gets when Stephen *glares at Becker, and he only ever seems to glare at Becker, is kinda nice, so maybe no scarf?
"Stephen doesn't like you." He mumbled as Ryan slides his fingers from Connor, who winces at the sensation.
"No; Stephen doesn't like me fucking you. There's a difference." Becker says rolling Connor onto the bed and grimacing at the state of them both. "We're disgusting."
Connor hears Ryan's low chuckle as he moves off through bed and saunters, fucking saunters, into the bathroom and returns with damp flannel, he flicks one at Becker and uses the other to clean himself up.
Becker cleans them both up and flings the cloth back to Ryan, aiming for his face, Ryan deftly moves, catches it and throws both into the sink with a resounding splat.
"Why do you only ever fuck me?" Connor asks, half way to sleep, but right now it seems like the most important question ever.
"We don't just fuck you, there was way more than fucking there, right Hils?"
"Definitely."
Connor doesn't need to look up to know they are wearing matching grins, and he shifts over to lie on Becker as Ryan slides the duvet up and over the three of them.
"Not what I mean. You never do anything with each other. Just me. Why?" He sighs as Ryan's arm goes around his waist, splaying fingers over Becker's stomach, and Becker's hand settles on his hip.
"Because we love you." Ryan says, dropping a kiss to the back of Connor's neck.
"But you don't love each other?" Connor asks. For some reason he feels stupidly young anew naive, and his first reaction is to burrow bids face into Becker's chest and muffled what he says next. "Why are you both here then?"
He feels Becker laugh, Ryan's answering huff of breath against the back of his neck and hue indignation flares.
"Fine, laugh at me." He tries to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs on the bed, pushing up on Becker's chest and feeling Ryan's arms tighten, holding him still.
"Not laughing at you, Conn." Becker says, hand reaching up to touch his face and run a thumb over his lips. "Never at you. I do love Tom, I do."
"And I love Hils. Stop wriggling Connor, please its...distracting."
Connors looking down, at the pillows,the sheets, anywhere but into Becker's eyes.
"Conn, look at me please?" He hates the tone in Becker's voice. It sounds like pleading and its wrong, oh so wrong.
He looks up, letting Becker press a kiss to his lips, soft, sweet, loving.
"Can we talk about this tomorrow? It's late, we're tired, and you Pet get cranky when you're tired." Ryan's voice is quiet but Connor feels every word against his back where they have become pressed together.
"I just..." Becker cuts him off with a kiss. Still slow and sweet. Pulling back he looks into Connor's eyes.
"I will prove it tomorrow night, just please Connor, sleep. Now."
"But..." Ryan's growl cuts him off, and makes him shiver.
"Tomorrow night. Just please, sleep." Becker says, letting his hand slip past Connor's head and his fingers touch Ryan's cheek softly.
"Ok but I'll hold you to it. Tomorrow night."