Fic: Triage: Becker (Primeval, Abby/Becker/Connor, NC-17)
Title: Triage: Becker
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Abby/Becker/Connor
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Set post 3.3
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.
Word Count: ~700.
Status: Complete. Part of a series of 3.
Author's Notes: Posted as part of fandom_stocking for textualdeviance. Thanks to
aithine for the beta.
Summary: Some things in life come easily; others don't, but Becker has never been the kind of person who backs down from a fight.
Becker has learnt that in life, things tend to fall into one of two categories - those that come easily, and those that are a bugger, a fight every step of the way. But Beckers have never been the kind of people who back down from a fight, and they've never been the kind of people to do things easily.
This though - this is easy.
It's easy to take hold of Connor's hand, to guide it into the opening in his trousers. All Becker has to do was concentrate on Connor's face, on the look of near comical surprise he finds there, and on the way that Connor swallows, thick and heavy, when his fingers find bare skin.
There was a reason they called it 'going commando'. He half expects Connor to pull back, say he can't do this, but - after a brief hesitation, Connor searching his face until Becker nods encouragingly - Connor's hand slides in deeper, his fingers wrapping around Becker's flaccid cock.
It's easy to set the pace, too, to drive things forward. All he has to do is keep a light hold on Connor's wrist, guiding him into the rhythm, the speed that he likes - long and slow, Connor's fingers stroking him from root to tip and then back down again. Connor's fist is loose at first - too loose to do what Becker needs it to do - but Connor's a quick learner. His gaze darts between Becker's face and Becker's cock, now held more tightly - just tightly enough to be perfect - in Connor's hand. It's that - Connor's gaze, Connor's uncertainty as he reads him, looking for those subtle hints as to what's working for him - as much as Connor's touch making him hard. Connor's fingers are just rough enough without lube for the calluses to catch against his skin, and Becker bites his lip, holding in a moan.
Connor shifts on the bed, the look on his face now fascinated. He leans in closer, close enough for Becker to hear the soft puffs of breath leaving Connor's lips, heavy in the silence of the room. Close enough for Becker to feel that same breath brushing against the sensitive head of his cock.
It's easy to pretend that he's the one in control here. Easy, until Connor looks away, reading someone else's face and someone else's mood instead of Becker's. Easy, until it's someone else nodding reassuringly, someone else's need that's paramount, not Becker's. They don't even have to say anything to each other, communicating wordlessly, shutting him out.
Abby's lips are parted when he looks at her, but she doesn't see him, not really. Her gaze is fixed on Connor - Connor's hand, Connor's face, Connor's mouth. Becker's cock, perhaps, as Connor's lips finally slide over the end of it, swallowing the first few inches down, his mouth too slack and wet. But it's hot and slick and even Connor's clumsiness is a turn-on.
He can hear Abby breathing now, the rhythm speeding up as Connor slides more of Becker's length into his mouth. Her eyes finally flick up to Becker's face but she still doesn't see him; her pupils are large and dark against the vivid blue of her irises, seeming to suck him in and spit him right back out again. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, her body slowly rocking against the seat. Her fingers are resting on one of those tight, tense thighs, curled against her skin, twitching slightly, like she's just looking for a reason to lose control, to slide them into her knickers and bring herself off.
Connor's hair is soft under his fingertips and Abby sighs, her thighs finally parting and her fingers creeping higher as he pushes Connor's head down, stopping short of choking him but setting the rhythm of this, too.
It's easy to pretend he's in control of this, but Becker isn't stupid. Sometimes the easiest things turn out to be the hardest after all.
It's Becker's cock in Connor's hand, Connor's mouth, Connor's arse, but it's Abby's name on Connor's lips when he comes.
But Beckers have never been the kind of people to do things easily, and this is one fight that Becker has no intention of backing away from.
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Abby/Becker/Connor
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Set post 3.3
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.
Word Count: ~700.
Status: Complete. Part of a series of 3.
Author's Notes: Posted as part of fandom_stocking for textualdeviance. Thanks to
aithine for the beta.
Summary: Some things in life come easily; others don't, but Becker has never been the kind of person who backs down from a fight.
Becker has learnt that in life, things tend to fall into one of two categories - those that come easily, and those that are a bugger, a fight every step of the way. But Beckers have never been the kind of people who back down from a fight, and they've never been the kind of people to do things easily.
This though - this is easy.
It's easy to take hold of Connor's hand, to guide it into the opening in his trousers. All Becker has to do was concentrate on Connor's face, on the look of near comical surprise he finds there, and on the way that Connor swallows, thick and heavy, when his fingers find bare skin.
There was a reason they called it 'going commando'. He half expects Connor to pull back, say he can't do this, but - after a brief hesitation, Connor searching his face until Becker nods encouragingly - Connor's hand slides in deeper, his fingers wrapping around Becker's flaccid cock.
It's easy to set the pace, too, to drive things forward. All he has to do is keep a light hold on Connor's wrist, guiding him into the rhythm, the speed that he likes - long and slow, Connor's fingers stroking him from root to tip and then back down again. Connor's fist is loose at first - too loose to do what Becker needs it to do - but Connor's a quick learner. His gaze darts between Becker's face and Becker's cock, now held more tightly - just tightly enough to be perfect - in Connor's hand. It's that - Connor's gaze, Connor's uncertainty as he reads him, looking for those subtle hints as to what's working for him - as much as Connor's touch making him hard. Connor's fingers are just rough enough without lube for the calluses to catch against his skin, and Becker bites his lip, holding in a moan.
Connor shifts on the bed, the look on his face now fascinated. He leans in closer, close enough for Becker to hear the soft puffs of breath leaving Connor's lips, heavy in the silence of the room. Close enough for Becker to feel that same breath brushing against the sensitive head of his cock.
It's easy to pretend that he's the one in control here. Easy, until Connor looks away, reading someone else's face and someone else's mood instead of Becker's. Easy, until it's someone else nodding reassuringly, someone else's need that's paramount, not Becker's. They don't even have to say anything to each other, communicating wordlessly, shutting him out.
Abby's lips are parted when he looks at her, but she doesn't see him, not really. Her gaze is fixed on Connor - Connor's hand, Connor's face, Connor's mouth. Becker's cock, perhaps, as Connor's lips finally slide over the end of it, swallowing the first few inches down, his mouth too slack and wet. But it's hot and slick and even Connor's clumsiness is a turn-on.
He can hear Abby breathing now, the rhythm speeding up as Connor slides more of Becker's length into his mouth. Her eyes finally flick up to Becker's face but she still doesn't see him; her pupils are large and dark against the vivid blue of her irises, seeming to suck him in and spit him right back out again. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, her body slowly rocking against the seat. Her fingers are resting on one of those tight, tense thighs, curled against her skin, twitching slightly, like she's just looking for a reason to lose control, to slide them into her knickers and bring herself off.
Connor's hair is soft under his fingertips and Abby sighs, her thighs finally parting and her fingers creeping higher as he pushes Connor's head down, stopping short of choking him but setting the rhythm of this, too.
It's easy to pretend he's in control of this, but Becker isn't stupid. Sometimes the easiest things turn out to be the hardest after all.
It's Becker's cock in Connor's hand, Connor's mouth, Connor's arse, but it's Abby's name on Connor's lips when he comes.
But Beckers have never been the kind of people to do things easily, and this is one fight that Becker has no intention of backing away from.