Primeval fic: Selection - for Luka's birthday
Title: Selection
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~1370
Characters: Tom Ryan, James Lester, Dobson (OC), unnamed OC.
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: Birthday fic for the lovely Luka and her prompt: Um, either Ryan/Lester or Stephen/Lester, please. What about 'faster, higher, stronger' for the prompt? Not sure what this is or if it is what you were looking for, but I hope you like it.
A/N 2: Thanks go to Fred for the speedy beta, cheers m'dear.
A/N 3: Continued in Who Dares Wins
Ryan's arms and legs were screaming at him to move, to stretch, to do something to relieve the strain they were under, but he couldn't. The last time he had, when he'd thought he was alone, it had lead to a beating and abuse shouted far too close to his ear about the sexual habits of his mother. He tried to listen for any sign of company, but his breathing sounded too loud in the hood he'd been wearing for God only knew how long. All he did know was that his arms and legs ached and that it was fucking cold in the room.
And to think he'd thought the long hikes across the Brecon Beacons and the Black Hills in a full pack, or the intense wet heat of the jungle, had been hard. He'd thought a few times that he was at the end of his endurance, and only the thought that he had to succeed, to show all those doubters that an openly gay man was more than capable of being in the SAS had kept him going.
He'd been so bloody pleased that he'd made it that the euphoria had helped keep him going through the Escape and Evasion part of Selection. But that had faded now in however long he'd been here. He'd been told Tactical Questioning was the hardest bit of the whole thing, but he hadn't really believed it. Not until he'd been thrown into a cell and roughly stripped as the guards made disparaging and extremely personal remarks about him.
Ryan shook his head, now was not the time to think of that, not if he wanted to pass. He needed to concentrate, to stay in control. Not to fall for any of the banter one of his interrogators had tried to trip him up on. He'd remembered only just in time to answer with nothing more than his name, rank, serial number and date of birth, even if he'd almost stumbled over the last one.
Ryan's arms screamed for him to lower them and he almost did before he heard something. Listening intently, he caught the slight scuffle of a boot before he felt the caress of something - maybe a baton - over his cock. Muffled laughter sounded close by before Ryan felt the baton wiggled beneath his cock until whoever held it could use it lift the aforementioned organ.
“Bloody hell, look at the size of this,” a distinctly dismissive female voice said. “I doubt any woman would even know he was fucking her with that.”
An elegant and coldly superior male voice answered her, a voice Ryan thought he knew from somewhere but couldn't place. “Not likely, our good Lieutenant Ryan here plays for the other team.”
“Bloody snapper, eh, sir?” the woman said as she quickly removed the baton holding Ryan's cock up as if merely touching him would contaminate her. “No wonder his mother loves it up the arse. Hmm, it that right, snapper, do you love it up the arse 'cos your mother does?”
Ryan bit back his retort and took a deep breath before he replied. “I'm sorry but I cannot answer that question.”
“I bet she does. Opens her legs for any Tom, Dick and Harry, eh? Learnt what to do from her, didn't you?”
“I'm sorry but I cannot answer that question.” Ryan felt like a bloody parrot repeating that line over and over again, but he refused to slip. He wouldn't fail, no matter how much they insulted his mother, God rest her soul.
After several more insulting comments and seemingly endless repetition from Ryan, they'd seemed to leave him alone. Not that he was sure they'd left... at least, not until the white noise started. He doubted they'd remain in the cell for that.
Ryan knew he only had to stand this for three day, but he just didn't know if he could. He had no idea how long he'd been there, no idea how much longer he would have to last. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He would prove he was the best, hadn't he smashed the record for the 'Fan Dance'?
As Ryan continued to stubbornly refuse to move, except for his head drooping as he fell asleep for seconds before it jerked back up as he woke, he recalled where he had heard the man's voice before. Bloody hell, no wonder he'd known Ryan was gay.
Ryan almost smiled at the memory. It had been just before he'd put in for Selection, fed up with the taunts from a few of his squad mates and them always making sure they didn't sleep with their arses towards his bed. He'd gone out with the ones who accepted him, a few drinks down the pub. It had been warm and friendly and they'd played darts against another group of men - civilians - with the losers paying the winner's tab. Ryan remembered that they'd thought it would be easy, that the group of smartly dressed man they were up against had been civilians... except, civilians didn't interrogate during Tactical Questioning and the man interrogating Ryan was definitely the man he'd met at the pub when they'd been soundly thrashed.
It wasn't as if Ryan would forget the man in a hurry.
***
Not after they'd ended up in the pub bogs, the man on his knees with Ryan's cock down his throat.
God, the thought of him, his mouth stretched wide around Ryan as he deep-throated him, the way his green eyes sparkled with amusement as Ryan groaned and moaned and came apart under his expert attention.
Not after Ryan was spun around, his trousers and boxers pulled down and the man showed Ryan what he could do with his tongue. Ryan had begged for more, pushing back as the man prepared him and then entered him. It had been hard and fast, a pounding rhythm as both knew they would soon be missed.
Ryan had never learned the man's name. He had never expected to see him again... certainly not on the SAS Selection as an interrogator. He wondered for a moment whether he had a chance of a repeat performance but that was unlikely, no instructor would get involved with one of the recruits, it would be career suicide for both of them. It was a bloody shame as it had been the best blow-job and fuck he'd ever had.
***
Ryan tensed again when he heard footsteps approaching and blinked in the bright light when his hood was removed. He stared into familiar green eyes and saw the flash of recognition in them, but could do nothing but wait for the next shoe to drop.
The man smiled as he informed Ryan. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Ryan, you're now a probationary member of the SAS.”
Ryan opened his mouth to reply before shutting it again. How did he know this was the end of the test and not another trick. “I'm sorry but I can not answer that question.”
The man snorted. “That wasn't actually a question, Lieutenant.” He nodded before turning towards the door. “But well done for expecting another trap. You are dismissed. There's a shower, clothing and a hot meal waiting for you.”
Ryan glanced up at the knock on the cell door and saw the unit medic, Dobson, salute the interrogator. “Major Lester, sir, permission to escort the lieutenant to the showers?”
Major Lester. Ryan now had the name for the man who had interrogated him, who had fucked him that night. A name to look up and see what he could find... not that he expected that they'd ever fuck again, but a man could always dream. After all, Ryan had always dreamed of joining the SAS and now he'd succeeded.
“Permission granted,” Lester replied, before adding, in a voice too low to carry, “Lovely to meet you again, Ryan.” His gaze dropped down to Ryan's cock. “Even if the temperature leaves much to be desired.” He saluted Ryan before turning on his heels and walking out of Ryan's life again.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~1370
Characters: Tom Ryan, James Lester, Dobson (OC), unnamed OC.
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: Birthday fic for the lovely Luka and her prompt: Um, either Ryan/Lester or Stephen/Lester, please. What about 'faster, higher, stronger' for the prompt? Not sure what this is or if it is what you were looking for, but I hope you like it.
A/N 2: Thanks go to Fred for the speedy beta, cheers m'dear.
A/N 3: Continued in Who Dares Wins
Ryan's arms and legs were screaming at him to move, to stretch, to do something to relieve the strain they were under, but he couldn't. The last time he had, when he'd thought he was alone, it had lead to a beating and abuse shouted far too close to his ear about the sexual habits of his mother. He tried to listen for any sign of company, but his breathing sounded too loud in the hood he'd been wearing for God only knew how long. All he did know was that his arms and legs ached and that it was fucking cold in the room.
And to think he'd thought the long hikes across the Brecon Beacons and the Black Hills in a full pack, or the intense wet heat of the jungle, had been hard. He'd thought a few times that he was at the end of his endurance, and only the thought that he had to succeed, to show all those doubters that an openly gay man was more than capable of being in the SAS had kept him going.
He'd been so bloody pleased that he'd made it that the euphoria had helped keep him going through the Escape and Evasion part of Selection. But that had faded now in however long he'd been here. He'd been told Tactical Questioning was the hardest bit of the whole thing, but he hadn't really believed it. Not until he'd been thrown into a cell and roughly stripped as the guards made disparaging and extremely personal remarks about him.
Ryan shook his head, now was not the time to think of that, not if he wanted to pass. He needed to concentrate, to stay in control. Not to fall for any of the banter one of his interrogators had tried to trip him up on. He'd remembered only just in time to answer with nothing more than his name, rank, serial number and date of birth, even if he'd almost stumbled over the last one.
Ryan's arms screamed for him to lower them and he almost did before he heard something. Listening intently, he caught the slight scuffle of a boot before he felt the caress of something - maybe a baton - over his cock. Muffled laughter sounded close by before Ryan felt the baton wiggled beneath his cock until whoever held it could use it lift the aforementioned organ.
“Bloody hell, look at the size of this,” a distinctly dismissive female voice said. “I doubt any woman would even know he was fucking her with that.”
An elegant and coldly superior male voice answered her, a voice Ryan thought he knew from somewhere but couldn't place. “Not likely, our good Lieutenant Ryan here plays for the other team.”
“Bloody snapper, eh, sir?” the woman said as she quickly removed the baton holding Ryan's cock up as if merely touching him would contaminate her. “No wonder his mother loves it up the arse. Hmm, it that right, snapper, do you love it up the arse 'cos your mother does?”
Ryan bit back his retort and took a deep breath before he replied. “I'm sorry but I cannot answer that question.”
“I bet she does. Opens her legs for any Tom, Dick and Harry, eh? Learnt what to do from her, didn't you?”
“I'm sorry but I cannot answer that question.” Ryan felt like a bloody parrot repeating that line over and over again, but he refused to slip. He wouldn't fail, no matter how much they insulted his mother, God rest her soul.
After several more insulting comments and seemingly endless repetition from Ryan, they'd seemed to leave him alone. Not that he was sure they'd left... at least, not until the white noise started. He doubted they'd remain in the cell for that.
Ryan knew he only had to stand this for three day, but he just didn't know if he could. He had no idea how long he'd been there, no idea how much longer he would have to last. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He would prove he was the best, hadn't he smashed the record for the 'Fan Dance'?
As Ryan continued to stubbornly refuse to move, except for his head drooping as he fell asleep for seconds before it jerked back up as he woke, he recalled where he had heard the man's voice before. Bloody hell, no wonder he'd known Ryan was gay.
Ryan almost smiled at the memory. It had been just before he'd put in for Selection, fed up with the taunts from a few of his squad mates and them always making sure they didn't sleep with their arses towards his bed. He'd gone out with the ones who accepted him, a few drinks down the pub. It had been warm and friendly and they'd played darts against another group of men - civilians - with the losers paying the winner's tab. Ryan remembered that they'd thought it would be easy, that the group of smartly dressed man they were up against had been civilians... except, civilians didn't interrogate during Tactical Questioning and the man interrogating Ryan was definitely the man he'd met at the pub when they'd been soundly thrashed.
It wasn't as if Ryan would forget the man in a hurry.
***
Not after they'd ended up in the pub bogs, the man on his knees with Ryan's cock down his throat.
God, the thought of him, his mouth stretched wide around Ryan as he deep-throated him, the way his green eyes sparkled with amusement as Ryan groaned and moaned and came apart under his expert attention.
Not after Ryan was spun around, his trousers and boxers pulled down and the man showed Ryan what he could do with his tongue. Ryan had begged for more, pushing back as the man prepared him and then entered him. It had been hard and fast, a pounding rhythm as both knew they would soon be missed.
Ryan had never learned the man's name. He had never expected to see him again... certainly not on the SAS Selection as an interrogator. He wondered for a moment whether he had a chance of a repeat performance but that was unlikely, no instructor would get involved with one of the recruits, it would be career suicide for both of them. It was a bloody shame as it had been the best blow-job and fuck he'd ever had.
***
Ryan tensed again when he heard footsteps approaching and blinked in the bright light when his hood was removed. He stared into familiar green eyes and saw the flash of recognition in them, but could do nothing but wait for the next shoe to drop.
The man smiled as he informed Ryan. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Ryan, you're now a probationary member of the SAS.”
Ryan opened his mouth to reply before shutting it again. How did he know this was the end of the test and not another trick. “I'm sorry but I can not answer that question.”
The man snorted. “That wasn't actually a question, Lieutenant.” He nodded before turning towards the door. “But well done for expecting another trap. You are dismissed. There's a shower, clothing and a hot meal waiting for you.”
Ryan glanced up at the knock on the cell door and saw the unit medic, Dobson, salute the interrogator. “Major Lester, sir, permission to escort the lieutenant to the showers?”
Major Lester. Ryan now had the name for the man who had interrogated him, who had fucked him that night. A name to look up and see what he could find... not that he expected that they'd ever fuck again, but a man could always dream. After all, Ryan had always dreamed of joining the SAS and now he'd succeeded.
“Permission granted,” Lester replied, before adding, in a voice too low to carry, “Lovely to meet you again, Ryan.” His gaze dropped down to Ryan's cock. “Even if the temperature leaves much to be desired.” He saluted Ryan before turning on his heels and walking out of Ryan's life again.