Clean Up - Primeval - Becker/Connor
Title: Clean Up
Pairing: Becker/Connor
Word Count: 2055
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written with one of citrus_taste's prompts. PWP. Established relationship.
Summary: After a slime-filled day at work, Connor helps Becker to shower at the end of the day.
Becker's skin turns pink under the heat of the water and the strength of his scrubbing. The mud has washed away, as has all visible slime, but the smell takes some beating. Connor knows that from experience.
He stands in the doorway to their bathroom, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Becker's attempts at getting clean. They'll have run out of soap and shampoo by the time he's finished, and it makes Connor glad that he'd been stuck back at base with their computers rather than out in the field,sliming it up. Usually he complains about that. If Becker's going to be risking his life constantly, Connor thinks that he at least should be doing the same thing.
Becker doesn't seem to agree.
Connor's arguing tends to come off more as 'whining'.
"Are you going to join me or are you going to stand there watching all evening?" Becker asks without opening his eyes to look at him. "I could do with a hand."
Connor isn't sure how exactly Becker knew he was there, but it seems like convincing enough evidence that Becker does in fact have super-senses. Maybe he's some sort of advanced cyborg agent, like in the movies. It would explain the muscles, and the evenly tanned skin, and the long, hard-
"Connor?" Becker says. His eyes open and he glances over at Connor. "That was an invitation."
"I knew that," Connor says.
It's not his fault that he gets distracted. It's hard to pay attention when Becker is naked and soapy in front of him.
He undresses, shoes first, while Becker scrubs at his arms once again. Connor doesn't have the heart to tell him that it will probably take a few days, maybe even a week, for the smell to fully fade away. It's going to be tough on both of them. Connor is the one that has to share a bed with him every night.
Once undressed, he slips under the water with his boyfriend. The temperature is hot enough to make him suck in a rush of pained air through his teeth and take a leaping step back, out from under the flow. Becker turns around to fiddle with the dial and return it to the kind of heat that a regular person can abide.
"You really are like superman," Connor says.
It's not a compliment, but the smirk that comes onto Becker's face implies that he's decided to take it as one. Connor would correct him, but he's rather distracted by the sudden intrusion of a kiss. Becker's hands cup the sides of his face, dripping wet and slippery with soap as he kisses him. Becker is always so slow and so careful at times like this; it makes Connor feel as if he has accidentally ended up as the heroine in a cheesy romance novel. In his mind, he's always got to be the hero.
Around Becker, though, he's got to admit that he's the damsel in distress. When he's up against a specially trained soldier he hasn't got much of a chance in the action hero department - and he kind of gets off on it. His hands slide over the firm muscle of Becker's arms all the way up to rest on his shoulders.
Becker presses him back against the tiles. They're cold, but the heat of Becker tight against him helps to distract him. Becker's hands are trailing down his sides, fingers skimming over Connor's pasty skin. The gentle hesitance is starting to fade away now, replaced instead with an open hunger. Becker can be demanding when he wants to be, and Connor's always happy to give in.
"What's got into you?" he asks appreciatively, allowing his head to be tilted to the side when Becker's fingers twist through his hair and pull. His neck is left exposed and Becker is quick to take advantage. The feel of his teeth is enough to make Connor take in a sudden lungful of misty air. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."
"I nearly died," Becker murmurs, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the shower. The thought makes Connor's hand cling onto the wet hair near the nape of Becker's neck, holding on to whatever he can. "It happens a lot, but..."
"Adrenaline rush?" Connor suggests, but it's more than that. Their lives are dangerous and death is always around the corner when there's a hungry dinosaur (or, in Becker's case, a prehistoric bug) chasing you.
"Something like that," Becker confirms, but he prevents any further discussion of the topic by returning his attention to Connor's mouth, licking him open and tasting everything he can. His leg pushes forward and nudges Connor's apart, slotting neatly into place. The hard length of his dick presses against the inside of Connor's thigh.
"Here, can we-" Connor doesn't finish his mumbled sentence, only turning around instead. The bottom of the shower is wet and slippery; it's difficult not to fall. He ends up facing the tiled wall with Becker close behind him, exploring his body with greedy, welcome hands.
Becker starts to move back as if he's going to go and collect their supplies, but Connor reaches out to grab him before he can leave. "Don't bother. I'll be fine - we've done it tons of times before."
And maybe having sex in their shower cubicle standing up with Becker smelling like a cross between the foul bug slime and the floral overload of his shampoo isn't the best time to experiment withlubeless sex, but right now Connor doesn't care. He feels like he might die or his mind might explode if Becker breaks contact, and while that is admittedly fairly impossible on a scientific level he isn't going to take any chances.
"Are you sure?" Becker asks dubiously.
Nope, he's really not sure on a practical level at all, but Connor's never been one for thinking things through before he steps forth. It's how he ended up mixed up with the anomalies and the ARC in the first place, after all.
"Yeah, c'mon," he says, spreading his legs a little bit wider.
He's relaxed when Becker pushes two fingers inside of him, wet with shower water and nothing more substantial. They've done this so many times and they've followed this routine so well that Connor knows how it goes. Becker will be soft and careful and tender until Connor feels so sexually frustrated that he'll begin to beg and whine for everything to kick up a gear. He just hopes they don't run out of hot water now.
Becker's fingers crook and bend and Connor leans his weight heavily against the the wall. His eyes close. He can feel the sprinkling of the shower water against his shoulders and the streams that wind down his back, but none of it really registers compared to thecompetence of Becker stretching him open and preparing him for what's to come.
"Becker," he says - and it's a whine, now, he knows that's a whine from the way Becker gives a quiet chuckle. "Please. Make me wait any longer and I'm going to bust out your first name."
As a threat, it works very well. It always does.
"You are a public menace," Becker says in his public school accent, breathing the words near Connor's ear.
Connor's reasonably certain that it shouldn't be nearly this hot, but he can't help shivering. Becker pulls his fingers free from Connor's ass, leaving a relaxed sense of emptiness behind. It doesn't last long.
Becker checks that he's alright, that he's ready, beforehand. It is only Connor's hurried nod that seems to convince him - because he always has Connor's best interests at heart. As a soldier, he'd been brought in to protect the team. It appears that part of the job description isn't something he can leave behind at the office.
Connor bites down hard on his bottom lip when he feels the intrusion of Becker's dick between his cheeks. It's more than those fingers had been, larger and less agile, and Becker takes sweet, careful time at making sure that he doesn't go too fast or too hard. The wet skin of Connor's hips give him next to nothing to hold onto, hands squeezing tight to grip on.
Becker nuzzles against his neck, tasting the warm water with a flash of his tongue, once he's as far inside of Connor as he can get. Their bodies align easily with Becker's chest lined along Connor's back. Connor is over-aware of Becker's cock, pushed deep inside, that it's impossible to allow his mind to focus on anything else. The tongue and lips on his neck; the hands on his hips; the water sprinkling onto his back. It hardly even registers and he reminds himself that breathing is still essential, even for dinosaur experts.
The friction drags when Becker pulls back and Connor's entire body feels the impact when he pushes back inside. One hand falls from the wall and he grasps hold of himself, squeezing and stroking. Becker's breathing is steady and controlled by his ear, as if this is some kind of military endurance training, and Connor would laugh at the idea of this being mandatory training, but the sound gets lost in a shivering moan when Becker hits it just right.
Becker's hand travels up the skin of his back, his thumb tracing along the line of Connor's spine. He grips onto Connor's shoulder when he reaches it, and a slight amount of pressure convinces Connor to bend over more fully. It's tighter like this, and Becker somehow feels larger within him; Connor makes noises that he would findembarrassing at any other time.
He strokes himself faster, because he can hear the difference in the speed and evenness of Becker's breathing now and he knows that that means he's close. He doesn't want to get left behind. It feels amazing, caught between the grip of his own hand and the strength of Becker's cock. He doesn't want it to end, but at the same time he is rushing so quickly towards a climax that he knows that stopping would be impossible.
Becker's hands on his skin clench enough that his nails create indents, sharp pricks of unexpected pain. After that, all it takes is a few extra, frantic jerks of his cock and then Connor comes with a cry. His eyes close and he feels it charge all the way through him. His hips jerk powerfully and stripes of semen hit the shower wall.
He feels blissed out and perfect, even as Becker hurries to catch up with him. He's not quite sure, these days, how he ever made it through the day at work without this to look forward to at home.
Becker bites down on the slope of Connor's neck when he comes, but Connor is currently feeling good enough that he doesn't mind at all. Tomorrow morning at work, when Abby holds back a laugh at the sight of the bruise, he'll mind. Right now, all he can do is moan all over again. Becker stills inside of him and holds him flush against his body as he spills inside, groaning against the feel of Connor's skin.
They stand together under the stream of the shower, catching their breath. Becker pulls free after a moment and Connor can't help but suck in a lungful of pained air when he does. It's gonna hurt tomorrow.
He rolls his shoulders on the tiled wall in order to turn around, leaning with his back against it now. Becker smiles at him, open and lazy - relaxed in a way that Connor never gets to see at work. Becker reaches out for his hips and tugs him forward again, wet chest against chest. Connor rests his head on Becker's shoulder, but he can't fight a smile.
"You still stink, you know," he states. He's never been too good at after-sex talk - but he's lucky in that Becker takes it in his stride, smiling too.
Becker reaches out for the soap and presses it, slippery and wet, into Connor's hand. "Help me out, then," he demands.
And it's not going to work. No soap in the world is strong enough to take on the slime of an ancient bug, but Connor isn't willing to crush Becker's spirits quite yet. He takes a deep breath of the steam-filled air - and then he gets to work.
Pairing: Becker/Connor
Word Count: 2055
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written with one of citrus_taste's prompts. PWP. Established relationship.
Summary: After a slime-filled day at work, Connor helps Becker to shower at the end of the day.
Becker's skin turns pink under the heat of the water and the strength of his scrubbing. The mud has washed away, as has all visible slime, but the smell takes some beating. Connor knows that from experience.
He stands in the doorway to their bathroom, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Becker's attempts at getting clean. They'll have run out of soap and shampoo by the time he's finished, and it makes Connor glad that he'd been stuck back at base with their computers rather than out in the field,sliming it up. Usually he complains about that. If Becker's going to be risking his life constantly, Connor thinks that he at least should be doing the same thing.
Becker doesn't seem to agree.
Connor's arguing tends to come off more as 'whining'.
"Are you going to join me or are you going to stand there watching all evening?" Becker asks without opening his eyes to look at him. "I could do with a hand."
Connor isn't sure how exactly Becker knew he was there, but it seems like convincing enough evidence that Becker does in fact have super-senses. Maybe he's some sort of advanced cyborg agent, like in the movies. It would explain the muscles, and the evenly tanned skin, and the long, hard-
"Connor?" Becker says. His eyes open and he glances over at Connor. "That was an invitation."
"I knew that," Connor says.
It's not his fault that he gets distracted. It's hard to pay attention when Becker is naked and soapy in front of him.
He undresses, shoes first, while Becker scrubs at his arms once again. Connor doesn't have the heart to tell him that it will probably take a few days, maybe even a week, for the smell to fully fade away. It's going to be tough on both of them. Connor is the one that has to share a bed with him every night.
Once undressed, he slips under the water with his boyfriend. The temperature is hot enough to make him suck in a rush of pained air through his teeth and take a leaping step back, out from under the flow. Becker turns around to fiddle with the dial and return it to the kind of heat that a regular person can abide.
"You really are like superman," Connor says.
It's not a compliment, but the smirk that comes onto Becker's face implies that he's decided to take it as one. Connor would correct him, but he's rather distracted by the sudden intrusion of a kiss. Becker's hands cup the sides of his face, dripping wet and slippery with soap as he kisses him. Becker is always so slow and so careful at times like this; it makes Connor feel as if he has accidentally ended up as the heroine in a cheesy romance novel. In his mind, he's always got to be the hero.
Around Becker, though, he's got to admit that he's the damsel in distress. When he's up against a specially trained soldier he hasn't got much of a chance in the action hero department - and he kind of gets off on it. His hands slide over the firm muscle of Becker's arms all the way up to rest on his shoulders.
Becker presses him back against the tiles. They're cold, but the heat of Becker tight against him helps to distract him. Becker's hands are trailing down his sides, fingers skimming over Connor's pasty skin. The gentle hesitance is starting to fade away now, replaced instead with an open hunger. Becker can be demanding when he wants to be, and Connor's always happy to give in.
"What's got into you?" he asks appreciatively, allowing his head to be tilted to the side when Becker's fingers twist through his hair and pull. His neck is left exposed and Becker is quick to take advantage. The feel of his teeth is enough to make Connor take in a sudden lungful of misty air. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."
"I nearly died," Becker murmurs, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the shower. The thought makes Connor's hand cling onto the wet hair near the nape of Becker's neck, holding on to whatever he can. "It happens a lot, but..."
"Adrenaline rush?" Connor suggests, but it's more than that. Their lives are dangerous and death is always around the corner when there's a hungry dinosaur (or, in Becker's case, a prehistoric bug) chasing you.
"Something like that," Becker confirms, but he prevents any further discussion of the topic by returning his attention to Connor's mouth, licking him open and tasting everything he can. His leg pushes forward and nudges Connor's apart, slotting neatly into place. The hard length of his dick presses against the inside of Connor's thigh.
"Here, can we-" Connor doesn't finish his mumbled sentence, only turning around instead. The bottom of the shower is wet and slippery; it's difficult not to fall. He ends up facing the tiled wall with Becker close behind him, exploring his body with greedy, welcome hands.
Becker starts to move back as if he's going to go and collect their supplies, but Connor reaches out to grab him before he can leave. "Don't bother. I'll be fine - we've done it tons of times before."
And maybe having sex in their shower cubicle standing up with Becker smelling like a cross between the foul bug slime and the floral overload of his shampoo isn't the best time to experiment withlubeless sex, but right now Connor doesn't care. He feels like he might die or his mind might explode if Becker breaks contact, and while that is admittedly fairly impossible on a scientific level he isn't going to take any chances.
"Are you sure?" Becker asks dubiously.
Nope, he's really not sure on a practical level at all, but Connor's never been one for thinking things through before he steps forth. It's how he ended up mixed up with the anomalies and the ARC in the first place, after all.
"Yeah, c'mon," he says, spreading his legs a little bit wider.
He's relaxed when Becker pushes two fingers inside of him, wet with shower water and nothing more substantial. They've done this so many times and they've followed this routine so well that Connor knows how it goes. Becker will be soft and careful and tender until Connor feels so sexually frustrated that he'll begin to beg and whine for everything to kick up a gear. He just hopes they don't run out of hot water now.
Becker's fingers crook and bend and Connor leans his weight heavily against the the wall. His eyes close. He can feel the sprinkling of the shower water against his shoulders and the streams that wind down his back, but none of it really registers compared to thecompetence of Becker stretching him open and preparing him for what's to come.
"Becker," he says - and it's a whine, now, he knows that's a whine from the way Becker gives a quiet chuckle. "Please. Make me wait any longer and I'm going to bust out your first name."
As a threat, it works very well. It always does.
"You are a public menace," Becker says in his public school accent, breathing the words near Connor's ear.
Connor's reasonably certain that it shouldn't be nearly this hot, but he can't help shivering. Becker pulls his fingers free from Connor's ass, leaving a relaxed sense of emptiness behind. It doesn't last long.
Becker checks that he's alright, that he's ready, beforehand. It is only Connor's hurried nod that seems to convince him - because he always has Connor's best interests at heart. As a soldier, he'd been brought in to protect the team. It appears that part of the job description isn't something he can leave behind at the office.
Connor bites down hard on his bottom lip when he feels the intrusion of Becker's dick between his cheeks. It's more than those fingers had been, larger and less agile, and Becker takes sweet, careful time at making sure that he doesn't go too fast or too hard. The wet skin of Connor's hips give him next to nothing to hold onto, hands squeezing tight to grip on.
Becker nuzzles against his neck, tasting the warm water with a flash of his tongue, once he's as far inside of Connor as he can get. Their bodies align easily with Becker's chest lined along Connor's back. Connor is over-aware of Becker's cock, pushed deep inside, that it's impossible to allow his mind to focus on anything else. The tongue and lips on his neck; the hands on his hips; the water sprinkling onto his back. It hardly even registers and he reminds himself that breathing is still essential, even for dinosaur experts.
The friction drags when Becker pulls back and Connor's entire body feels the impact when he pushes back inside. One hand falls from the wall and he grasps hold of himself, squeezing and stroking. Becker's breathing is steady and controlled by his ear, as if this is some kind of military endurance training, and Connor would laugh at the idea of this being mandatory training, but the sound gets lost in a shivering moan when Becker hits it just right.
Becker's hand travels up the skin of his back, his thumb tracing along the line of Connor's spine. He grips onto Connor's shoulder when he reaches it, and a slight amount of pressure convinces Connor to bend over more fully. It's tighter like this, and Becker somehow feels larger within him; Connor makes noises that he would findembarrassing at any other time.
He strokes himself faster, because he can hear the difference in the speed and evenness of Becker's breathing now and he knows that that means he's close. He doesn't want to get left behind. It feels amazing, caught between the grip of his own hand and the strength of Becker's cock. He doesn't want it to end, but at the same time he is rushing so quickly towards a climax that he knows that stopping would be impossible.
Becker's hands on his skin clench enough that his nails create indents, sharp pricks of unexpected pain. After that, all it takes is a few extra, frantic jerks of his cock and then Connor comes with a cry. His eyes close and he feels it charge all the way through him. His hips jerk powerfully and stripes of semen hit the shower wall.
He feels blissed out and perfect, even as Becker hurries to catch up with him. He's not quite sure, these days, how he ever made it through the day at work without this to look forward to at home.
Becker bites down on the slope of Connor's neck when he comes, but Connor is currently feeling good enough that he doesn't mind at all. Tomorrow morning at work, when Abby holds back a laugh at the sight of the bruise, he'll mind. Right now, all he can do is moan all over again. Becker stills inside of him and holds him flush against his body as he spills inside, groaning against the feel of Connor's skin.
They stand together under the stream of the shower, catching their breath. Becker pulls free after a moment and Connor can't help but suck in a lungful of pained air when he does. It's gonna hurt tomorrow.
He rolls his shoulders on the tiled wall in order to turn around, leaning with his back against it now. Becker smiles at him, open and lazy - relaxed in a way that Connor never gets to see at work. Becker reaches out for his hips and tugs him forward again, wet chest against chest. Connor rests his head on Becker's shoulder, but he can't fight a smile.
"You still stink, you know," he states. He's never been too good at after-sex talk - but he's lucky in that Becker takes it in his stride, smiling too.
Becker reaches out for the soap and presses it, slippery and wet, into Connor's hand. "Help me out, then," he demands.
And it's not going to work. No soap in the world is strong enough to take on the slime of an ancient bug, but Connor isn't willing to crush Becker's spirits quite yet. He takes a deep breath of the steam-filled air - and then he gets to work.