fanfic: Cycle
This is the final chapter of my Connor/Becker 'Need' series. It's not the ending that I know a lot of you wanted, but it was the only way that I could see this realistically going (despite thefakebook 's rather macabre suggestions of it ending in suicide).
Title: Cycle
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Connor/Becker (Connor/Nick implied)
Rating: 18
Warnings: Language, smut, angst, (implied abusive relationship).
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 2200
Summary: What goes around comes around.
AN: Follows on from The Substitute, Need, The New Order, The Next Roll of the Dice, Secrets and Lies, Tangled Webs, and Comfort.
Connor turned up on his doorstep late at night. Becker stepped aside and let him in, taking in the slump to Connor’s shoulders, the hurt in his eyes, the fact that he looked defeated.
For once there was no immediate grappling the moment the door closed, and Becker followed him and quickly moved his book off the other side of the sofa for him to sit down.
“You okay?” Becker asked eventually when Connor didn’t speak.
Connor was staring at his hands, his whole body hunched and defensive.
“I tried to leave him, but I can’t.”
Well, that was unexpected. Becker wasn’t entirely sure whether this revelation was good news or not. Whatever he thought, Connor clearly wasn’t jumping for joy about it.
“You tried to leave him?”
“He needs me.”
Becker felt a surge of anger.
“For fuck’s sake, Connor! Stuff what he needs for a change. What about you? What do you need?”
Connor was on his feet in an instant.
“Don’t! Don’t start that shit again, Becker.”
Becker stood up and glared right back at him.
“Why the hell not? What hold has Cutter got over you that you keep going back to him when all he does is hurt you?”
“God, what is it with you? Why do you always want me to fucking talk about it? Why do you care?”
“Because I care about you.”
The words were out before Becker could stop them. The two men stared at each other in shock for a moment.
“No.” Connor shook his head. He started backing away. “No. We are not doing this. You are not doing this shit to me.”
Becker followed him, his patience finally fraying.
“Doing what?” he demanded. “What exactly is it that I’m doing to you that you can’t handle? You’re the one who comes to me, remember? You’re the one who takes it out on me whenever the stress of dealing with Cutter gets too much. What do you want from me, Connor?”
“Shut up!”
“What do you want?”
Becker shoved Connor back against the wall. He didn’t pin him, didn’t even continue to hold him, but he did stand directly in front of him, stared him down, his eyes demanding a straight answer for once.
“Don’t,” Connor said again. This time his voice was no more than a whisper. His eyes were pleading.
“What do you want?” Becker asked again, this time more softly.
Connor abruptly shoved at him with both hands on Becker’s chest. Becker didn’t even budge. Connor tried to slip sideways past him, but Becker pushed him back against the wall, gently but firmly.
“Just tell me, Connor. What do you want?”
For a second Becker caught a glimpse of Connor’s kicked puppy expression. Then Connor slammed his whole body into Becker, wrapping his arms around Becker’s chest as he bodily pushed. This time Becker stepped back with the shove and let momentum take them for few paces. He thought for a second that Connor was going to hit him and tensed for a blow to the ribs, but it never came. Connor’s fingers twisted into the fabric at the back of Becker’s t-shirt, and he clung on, his face buried in Becker’s chest. Becker felt him twitching, heard an odd gasping sound until he realised that Connor was crying. Becker hesitantly slipped his arms around Connor and held him. He had no idea what to do. Absolutely none. His hand started rubbing Connor’s back, high up, mindful of where the bruises had been last time he’d seen them.
“I want...” Connor’s voice was quiet, muffled by Becker’s t-shirt, and he had to strain to hear him.
“I want something that doesn’t hurt,” Connor finally managed to say. “I want a relationship that isn’t wrong and broken and fucked up. I want someone who actually wants me.”
“I want you,” Becker replied softly.
“Why?” This time it wasn’t an angry demand, it sounded more like a genuine question.
“If I asked you why you wanted Cutter would you be able to explain it?”
Connor shook his head. Becker tried not to wonder if that movement had left a trail of snot and tears on his t-shirt.
“I don’t know why,” Becker said softly. “I just know I care about you.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time. Becker’s head was spinning at this latest unexpected development. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised it really wasn’t that unexpected. The tension had been building between them ever since their first encounter in the locker room, and he had sensed that sooner or later something was going to give. He just hadn’t expected it to be like this.
Eventually Becker said, “Come to bed.”
He felt Connor tense in his arms. Becker closed his eyes, and wondered how the hell he was supposed to deal with this. For a moment he wondered if he even wanted to deal with this. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the score, and he knew this wasn’t going to involve anything remotely like a happy ending. If he had any sense, he would push Connor out of the door and close it behind him and end this right now. But, probably for the same screwed up reasons that Connor couldn’t leave Cutter, Becker knew he couldn’t turn his back on Connor now.
Connor and Cutter weren’t the only ones with a fucked up relationship.
“It’s okay, no pressure. No expectation. Just come to bed.”
Connor nodded, and pulled out of Becker’s arms. He turned away for a few moments and wiped his face, and Becker gave him time to sort himself out. They went through to the bedroom and got undressed in silence. Becker couldn’t help but notice the change in the atmosphere between them, the change in Connor. In their earlier encounters Connor had always been the one in control, he demanded what he wanted and Becker went along with it. Now, though, it was like having a skittish animal in the room with him. Becker couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Connor was going to bolt if he said or did the wrong thing now. It was as if the front of aggression and dominance had only lasted as long his relationship with Cutter remained secret, and only now was Becker seeing the real Connor Temple.
The real Connor Temple was a very angry, very determined, and very lonely young man.
Once in bed, Becker pulled Connor into his arms and just held him. For once Connor didn’t fight him, and he lay beside him and pillowed his head on Becker’s chest.
“Why do you let me do this to you? Why do you put up with it?” Connor asked quietly.
Because it’s the only time I ever feel needed, Becker thought.
He had asked himself the same question many times over the past few weeks, and the only answer he had found was that being with Connor was the only time he ever felt like any of the team wanted him around. Cutter had no interest in military involvement, Abby never wanted to let him shoot any of the creatures, no matter how dangerous, and half the time the team refused to follow orders and just ran around doing whatever they wanted. And the fucking worst thing about it was that even despite all that, they usually managed to make things work out in the end. They really didn’t need Becker around. They didn’t want him around. Becker felt superfluous. The only time he felt like he was performing a useful function, the only time he ever felt needed, was when he was with Connor.
Becker considered telling Connor the truth, but decided against it. Connor might have finally stopped trying to hide his vulnerabilities, but Becker had no intention of doing the same just yet.
Out loud he said, “Because you’re a good shag.”
Connor glanced up at him and the guarded expression in his eyes told Becker that Connor had picked up on the lie. After a moment he apparently decided not to push it, and simply nodded.
“It doesn’t bother you, knowing that I’m with Cutter?” Connor said. “You’re alright with being ‘the other man’?”
“As alright as you are with being Cutter’s substitute for Stephen,” Becker replied bluntly, wondering if his words hurt Connor as much as the question had hurt him.
Connor shifted and squirmed for a few moments, but his head was ducked and Becker couldn’t see his expression. Connor wasn’t stupid, though. Becker guessed he had to know the truth; that neither of them wanted it to be like this, but that neither of them were looking for the same thing from each other.
“Connor,” he said a little more gently. “We both know this is never going to end with happily ever after. This is just...”
“Convenient,” Connor finished for him.
“Yeah.” Becker tried not to sound bitter.
They remained quiet for a while, until Connor’s hand tentatively wandered lower and closed around Becker’s cock. Becker’s breath caught for a moment, and then he relaxed and let Connor slowly stroke him.
“Do you want to... turn over?”
Becker wasn’t surprised by the request. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. He was surprised that it was phrased as a request, rather than an order, but he wasn’t surprised that in the end it always came down to sex. He turned onto his side, facing away from Connor, and there was a few moments delay while Connor sorted out the condom, and then the younger man pressed close behind Becker and carefully prepared him with well lubricated fingers. Within moments Becker’s cock was achingly hard, but he resisted the urge to touch himself just yet. He almost didn’t need to when Connor’s fingers found his prostate. Becker gasped and pushed back against Connor instinctively, and it took him a few seconds to realise that he was surprised when Connor didn’t slap him down for that. Instead Connor continued to stroke that spot, making Becker writhe and desperately bite down on the whimper that wanted to come. This was nothing like the last time they’d had sex. This was... this was almost like Connor actually cared about satisfying him, as well as finding his own release.
Becker knew he was deluding himself. He was no longer sure he cared about that fact.
Connor’s fingers slid away and Becker involuntarily tensed. Even now he was still expecting it to be hard and fast. Connor’s cock nudged at his entrance, and when there was resistance Connor’s now-free hand found Becker’s cock and started to trace up and down the length again. Becker forced himself to relax, and as soon as he did Connor started to push in again, slowly filling him. Once he was fully in, he stopped, and they stayed like that for a while, the only movement being Connor’s hand on Becker’s cock. Then Connor pulled out a little and started to thrust, his movements still slow and careful, his hand still teasing Becker’s cock. When Connor found his prostate again, Becker couldn’t hold the whimper in any more. Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then pushed again, hitting the spot unerringly until Becker was crying out and pulsing all over the sheets and Connor’s hand. Connor came a moment later and then they both lay still, Connor still buried deep inside him, his hand still curled around Becker’s cock, and Becker trembling gently as he came back to himself.
Movement or coherent sentences were still beyond him when Connor slowly pulled out and dealt with throwing away the condom and cleaning up a bit. Then he was back, and he tugged Becker closer, away from the damp patch on Becker’s side of the bed.
Apparently Connor had decided to stay this time instead of running out on him. Becker felt the smile on his face, and wondered how he could explain it if Connor asked. Connor curled against Becker’s side, and his arm slipped around his waist. Becker tentatively allowed himself to believe that maybe they had finally turned a corner. Maybe it really could be like this every time.
“Thank you,” Connor murmured. “That was... I needed tha-”
He stopped abruptly, and Becker turned his head to see Connor staring at him, his eyes wide and horrified in the near darkness of the room.
“Connor...”
Becker realised he had no words.
Abruptly Connor buried his face against Becker’s shoulder. Hiding.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “God, Becker, I’m sorry.”
Becker slipped an arm around Connor’s shoulders and held him.
“Promise me something, Becker. Promise you won’t let me turn into Cutter. Don’t let me do the same things to you. Don’t let me hurt you.”
Becker’s breath caught in his throat and his stomach flipped. The really fucking tragic thing was that it was already too late to prevent that, and Connor didn’t even realise it. Cutter had been Connor’s teacher in every way possible, and Connor had learned his lessons well.
And now there was absolutely nothing that he could offer to Connor except empty words and comfort.
“I promise,” Becker lied as he stared into the darkness.