Asking for It
Title: Asking for It
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/ ?
Words: 300
Challenge: slashthedrabble prompt: Help
Rating: 18 - themes of NonCon
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Primeval
Spoliers: None
Oh, help. He realises he’s trapped and wonders if he has gone too far.
The other man is walking, no, stalking, towards him; his eyes dark and cold.
He’s shoved roughly against the wall, his chest pressed against the plaster, his arms pinned above his head.
There’s firm pressure against his back, pushing him harder into the wall and he wonders again.
He wore his chords slung low on his hips and a tight long-sleeved T clung to his body, accentuating his slim build and the muscle definition he had built up. It didn’t quite meet the trousers and a strip of bare skin showed the top of the V of muscle that led to the tempting flesh below.
He’d spent the day being close, too close when he could get away with it. Every movement exaggerated to stretch his lean body or display his arse. At lunch he allowed sauce to run down his fingers so he could languidly lick each digit clean with a murmur of satisfaction. He’d watched the other man’s eyes darken with need and knew he was winning.
He wanted this, but this is different to the other times. He’d wanted to push him over the edge, but has he pushed to far?
Teeth clamp down on the flesh of his neck and a hand snakes around him to roughly pull at the fastenings of his trousers. He cries out at the bite, thrusts his hips towards the probing hand. This is what he wants, he wants the loss of control, the fear, it’s what he pushed for. Doubt and lust battle in his mind.
A thumb strokes gently down his cheek; a request. He flicks his tongue over the offered thumb, giving tacit permission. It’s the last time tonight anything will be asked for.
AN: When it came to it a reveal didn't seem necessary and may have in fact detracted, so you get to decide who the other man with Connor is.
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/ ?
Words: 300
Challenge: slashthedrabble prompt: Help
Rating: 18 - themes of NonCon
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Primeval
Spoliers: None
Oh, help. He realises he’s trapped and wonders if he has gone too far.
The other man is walking, no, stalking, towards him; his eyes dark and cold.
He’s shoved roughly against the wall, his chest pressed against the plaster, his arms pinned above his head.
There’s firm pressure against his back, pushing him harder into the wall and he wonders again.
He wore his chords slung low on his hips and a tight long-sleeved T clung to his body, accentuating his slim build and the muscle definition he had built up. It didn’t quite meet the trousers and a strip of bare skin showed the top of the V of muscle that led to the tempting flesh below.
He’d spent the day being close, too close when he could get away with it. Every movement exaggerated to stretch his lean body or display his arse. At lunch he allowed sauce to run down his fingers so he could languidly lick each digit clean with a murmur of satisfaction. He’d watched the other man’s eyes darken with need and knew he was winning.
He wanted this, but this is different to the other times. He’d wanted to push him over the edge, but has he pushed to far?
Teeth clamp down on the flesh of his neck and a hand snakes around him to roughly pull at the fastenings of his trousers. He cries out at the bite, thrusts his hips towards the probing hand. This is what he wants, he wants the loss of control, the fear, it’s what he pushed for. Doubt and lust battle in his mind.
A thumb strokes gently down his cheek; a request. He flicks his tongue over the offered thumb, giving tacit permission. It’s the last time tonight anything will be asked for.
AN: When it came to it a reveal didn't seem necessary and may have in fact detracted, so you get to decide who the other man with Connor is.