Fic: Not Emptiness But Repletion, Primeval
Because, instead of writing my mcshep_match story, I'm apparently writing kinda dodgy consent, screwed-over-a-car Nick/Stephen fic. Go figure...
Also, writing this puts me on the same line as 'Plushies/furries', which has... possibilities ;-)
Title: Not Emptiness But Repletion
Author: Claire
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Nick/Stephen
Rating: R
Summary: Stephen knows he shouldn't want this.
Notes: Written for kink_bingo's 'Vehicular' kink. The title comes from a quote by Pico Iyer.
"Don't move." Nick's voice is little more than a growl as he nudges Stephen's feet further apart, hand on the small of Stephen's back pressing him on the car bonnet.
"I can't go any further." The jeans Nick had pulled down so quickly are seeing to that, wrapped around his thighs and meaning he can't spread his legs as much as Nick seems to want him to.
Nick just grunts, hand moving over Stephen's arse, almost hot against his skin in the cold, clammy air. "This'll do, then," before fingers push inside him, slick with god knows what.
Stephen arches into the touch, can do nothing else when it's Nick, pressing back against the digits inside him. The stretching's quick and perfunctory and it's too soon before Stephen hears the tearing of a packet, before there's a pause and the sounds of Nick rolling a rubber on.
"Ready?"
"Yes." Because at least Nick asked this time before he presses his dick against Stephen, slamming inside with one push that has Stephen scrabbling for purchase against the car's bonnet. But the metal is too wet, too slick, and his fingers just slide across, leaving trails in the condensation left there by the fog surrounding them.
And Stephen knows he shouldn't want this. It's too quick and too rough and nothing like it should be, but his cock is throbbing anyway. He reaches down, needing to touch, but Nick grabs his wrist, pressing it back onto the bonnet.
"Leave it."
Because it's going to be one of those times, when he'll come because of Nick or not at all. One of those times, when Helen's words are in Nick's head and the echo of a woman Stephen's never met is watching them. It won't be the first time Nick's left him hanging, walked away and left Stephen to spill shame onto his own hand.
And then Nick shifts, just slightly, just enough, and each thrust is hitting Stephen's prostate.
"Oh god, please." Because Stephen's begged Nick before, isn't too proud to do it again. Especially when it gets Nick's hand on him, heavy and rough, calluses scrapping over skin in a way that makes Stephen shudder and want more every time.
Nick establishes the rhythm easily, borne of practice, of knowing every inch of Stephen's body.
"Come on, Stephen. Give it." Guttural and low, words growled into Stephen's ear as Nick's cleaves into him, sharp and there, and squeezes Stephen's dick.
And Stephen does. Pushes back against Nick, want and need and shame and desire coalescing into a single point as he comes, jagged and hard, over Nick's fingers.
The body behind him stutters slightly as Nick's hand tightens on his hip, branding Cutter's name into his flesh in finger-shaped script.
Nick slumps across Stephen's back, heavy breath rumbling through Stephen's body. His arse is sore, his cheek is pressed against cold, wet metal, and Nick is softening inside him, but Stephen still doesn't move.
Every time this happens Stephen knows he should stop it, knows he's more than capable of taking on a belligerent Scotsman with anger issues, but he doesn't. Doesn't fight it and doesn't stop it. And Stephen knows that says more about him than Nick than anything ever could.
Also, writing this puts me on the same line as 'Plushies/furries', which has... possibilities ;-)
Title: Not Emptiness But Repletion
Author: Claire
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Nick/Stephen
Rating: R
Summary: Stephen knows he shouldn't want this.
Notes: Written for kink_bingo's 'Vehicular' kink. The title comes from a quote by Pico Iyer.
"Don't move." Nick's voice is little more than a growl as he nudges Stephen's feet further apart, hand on the small of Stephen's back pressing him on the car bonnet.
"I can't go any further." The jeans Nick had pulled down so quickly are seeing to that, wrapped around his thighs and meaning he can't spread his legs as much as Nick seems to want him to.
Nick just grunts, hand moving over Stephen's arse, almost hot against his skin in the cold, clammy air. "This'll do, then," before fingers push inside him, slick with god knows what.
Stephen arches into the touch, can do nothing else when it's Nick, pressing back against the digits inside him. The stretching's quick and perfunctory and it's too soon before Stephen hears the tearing of a packet, before there's a pause and the sounds of Nick rolling a rubber on.
"Ready?"
"Yes." Because at least Nick asked this time before he presses his dick against Stephen, slamming inside with one push that has Stephen scrabbling for purchase against the car's bonnet. But the metal is too wet, too slick, and his fingers just slide across, leaving trails in the condensation left there by the fog surrounding them.
And Stephen knows he shouldn't want this. It's too quick and too rough and nothing like it should be, but his cock is throbbing anyway. He reaches down, needing to touch, but Nick grabs his wrist, pressing it back onto the bonnet.
"Leave it."
Because it's going to be one of those times, when he'll come because of Nick or not at all. One of those times, when Helen's words are in Nick's head and the echo of a woman Stephen's never met is watching them. It won't be the first time Nick's left him hanging, walked away and left Stephen to spill shame onto his own hand.
And then Nick shifts, just slightly, just enough, and each thrust is hitting Stephen's prostate.
"Oh god, please." Because Stephen's begged Nick before, isn't too proud to do it again. Especially when it gets Nick's hand on him, heavy and rough, calluses scrapping over skin in a way that makes Stephen shudder and want more every time.
Nick establishes the rhythm easily, borne of practice, of knowing every inch of Stephen's body.
"Come on, Stephen. Give it." Guttural and low, words growled into Stephen's ear as Nick's cleaves into him, sharp and there, and squeezes Stephen's dick.
And Stephen does. Pushes back against Nick, want and need and shame and desire coalescing into a single point as he comes, jagged and hard, over Nick's fingers.
The body behind him stutters slightly as Nick's hand tightens on his hip, branding Cutter's name into his flesh in finger-shaped script.
Nick slumps across Stephen's back, heavy breath rumbling through Stephen's body. His arse is sore, his cheek is pressed against cold, wet metal, and Nick is softening inside him, but Stephen still doesn't move.
Every time this happens Stephen knows he should stop it, knows he's more than capable of taking on a belligerent Scotsman with anger issues, but he doesn't. Doesn't fight it and doesn't stop it. And Stephen knows that says more about him than Nick than anything ever could.