What Matters When
Nov. 30th, 2011 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jooles34Title: What Matters When
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Lester/Ryan
Words: 1,596
Rating,Warnings: 18
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Primeval.
Spoilers: Set at the end of season 2. Follows canon events in seasons 1 and 2, but the Denial friendly versions obviously *g*.
AN: This (finally, I’m so far behind) is my birthday fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fififolle. She asked for Lester/Ryan and lots of shouting and angst. What she actually has is Lester/Ryan who get a little bit stroppy. Subliminal references to my ex-military head canon Lester.
AN2: Muchos thanks to![[info]](https://jooles34.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=87.1)
fredbassett for a fab beta.
In the years that followed, neither of them would be able to recall who hit who first, and by then it barely mattered. But it was about to matter a great deal.
Lester was lying on his sofa, the leather pleasantly cool on his back though his shirt. His tie was undone and loose around his neck, and the first few buttons of his shirt were open. One arm lay across his eyes and the other was draped over the side of the sofa, hand wrapped around a glass of Scotch that rested on the floor.
This was relaxing with military precision.
His chest hurt, the torn flesh pulling with every breath. It had been easier to ignore in the heat of the chase; trying to track down Leek while his team battled to defend themselves and the ARC. And it had been too damned close there with Hart.
The image of Leek being torn apart by the future predator flittered across his closed eyes and he lifted his drink to his lips in response. He knew it wouldn't haunt him, he'd seen man-made devices do as much damage to a human body and it was no worse than what Leek had tried to do to him.
And had very nearly bloody succeeded. He was either more out of shape or out of practice than he realised. Or maybe both. But even with this project he hadn't expected that sort of thing to happen to him any more, not when his front line was the boardroom.
Lester's front door buzzer rang and he shifted the arm over his eyes and glared through his lounge doorway out at the closed front door as if that would tell him who was calling on him.
There was a short pause and the buzzer rang again. With a deep sigh, Lester placed his glass on the floor and got to his feet, heading for the intercom receiver. He pressed the button.
"Yes?"
"Sir, it’s Ryan. Captain Ryan. I would like a word, please, sir."
Lester raised a quizzical eyebrow at the intercom before pressing the door release. He opened his front door in anticipation of Ryan's arrival, but turned and headed back to the living room. He retrieved his Scotch from the floor and drained it before heading to the liquor cabinet and pouring another generous measure. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and shook his head at the mad fool running rather than taking the lift like any normal person. Lester grinned ruefully. Maybe that attitude went part way to explaining how out of shape he was. He reached for another glass and poured a measure of Scotch into it. If Ryan wanted ice he could get that himself.
Lester was bone-weary and not in the mood for entertaining or analysing why the captain had decided to appear on his doorstep. They had not spoken in the many months since Ryan’s injuries had caused him to leave the ARC project. But he was curious as to what would drive the soldier here today. And Lester was very careful to tell himself that curiosity was the only reason he had opened the door.
Lester heard the front door shut and footsteps approached him. He fought every instinct to turn around and wait to see him appear. He refused to let recent events scare him, and equally he would not appear eager. Instead, he took a deep breath and slipped a carefully neutral expression onto his face before turning to find Ryan waiting at the entrance to the lounge. Lester took a step forward and offered Ryan a glass. As he moved, Lester's shirt pulled open and he watched something incomprehensible cross Ryan's features as his dressing was revealed. Ryan shook his head, refusing the drink, so Lester turned and placed it and his own back on the liquor cabinet’s table and waited to see what Ryan's next move would be.
Ryan indicted at the bandage on Lester's chest with a nod of his head.
"You were injured then?"
"A scratch. Nothing to be concerned about."
"I heard you were on your own. That isn't right; some of the security staff should have stayed."
"I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you, Ryan."
Ryan's jaw was set, his lips in a firm line.
"That's not the point. If I had been there, if I had still been in charge, the ARC wouldn't have been left undefended."
“Are you blaming yourself for this, Ryan? Have you just come here for self-flagellation? If so, you can leave and do it elsewhere.”
“Of course I’m not,” Ryan said quickly, but Lester felt his heart wasn’t in it. “My point, sir, is that things should have been done differently. And they would have been I had been there. I should have been there.”
Lester gave him a hard look.
"Something you're trying to say, Captain?" he asked icily.
"You made a mistake."
"Did I now?"
"Yes."
"Ryan, you were nearly killed. Your recovery to get back in the field would have taken months. Transferring you away from the project was the only sensible option."
"Sensible option? That’s what I was to you? A commodity to be shifted around as you see fit?"
"You’re a soldier, Ryan; it’s what we do with soldiers."
Ryan took a couple of quick steps forward.
"But you weren't thinking of me as a soldier were you? You were thinking of me as something else and didn't have the fucking balls to deal with it."
In the event, when it mattered very much, it was Lester that threw the first punch. His right arm snapped out, connecting squarely with Ryan's smart mouth.
Ryan’s lip split and his teeth were painted with blood as he lashed back at Lester. Lester's head snapped back and the force of the blow to his jaw sent him staggering backwards. He landed against the liquor cabinet and the two tumblers of whisky fell to the floor in a haze of glass shards and amber liquid.
Instinct kicked in and Lester recovered quickly. He lunged at Ryan, his momentum managing to drive them both backwards.
The back of Ryan’s legs hit the sofa and he tumbled onto it, pulling Lester down with him. Their combined weight and bulk caused them both to spill onto the floor.
They struggled with each other, locked in a tight embrace, rolling on the floor, both trying to get the upper hand. Fists landed with no real power in the close confines of their clinch. They grunted with exertion, biting and grabbing at each other as they fought for dominance.
They started to pull at each others’ clothes, yanking and tearing, exposing healing scars and newly-acquired wounds.
And then their lips were together, mouths locking as much as the rest of their bodies. Lester could taste the tang of blood in Ryan's mouth and a voice in his head told him to stop. But a louder voice was telling him that this was what he needed, what he had needed and wanted for so long.
He found himself suddenly on top and Ryan was no longer trying to throw him off. Instead he was thrusting his hips against Lester and Lester could feel Ryan's similar need pushing against his thigh.
Lester ground down onto the other man and they clung to each other as they jerked roughly, panting into each others mouths.
Ryan's grip on him tightened still further and Lester tasted his own blood mixing with Ryan’s as the other man bit down on his lips. Lester groaned and forced his body down hard against Ryan. Ryan responded with a final vicious thrust and a growl and Lester knew he had come. With a moan of his own, Lester followed him into release.
They panted together, lips and teeth pressed together, but no longer in a kiss. As Lester’s breath began to come back and his heart rate started to slow, he finally moved. He pulled his head back, licking a smear of blood from Ryan’s teeth, before pushing himself half off and supporting himself on one arm.
He looked down at Ryan’s neck and let his fingers trace over the scared and raised flesh.
“Yours won’t look this bad,” Ryan said.
“I have scars; scars don’t scare me.”
“What does scare you, James?” Ryan’s suddenly soft voice coupled with the use of his first name, made Lester lift his eyes and meet Ryan’s.
He signed and pushed himself off Ryan’s body, coming to rest on the floor between the soldier and his sofa. Lying on his side, he propped himself up on one elbow and ran a hand through his hair.
“Not the same things a sensible man would be scared of.”
“Just because you’ve been scared, has it ever stopped you fighting? Did you hide from that future predator today, or did you stand up and fight it?”
“If you’re heading for a metaphor, Ryan, I should warn you that I used a machine gun on the creature and ultimately killed it with a mammoth.”
A laugh snorted out of Ryan. He was obviously trying to suppress it, but within a second he was laughing loud and hard. He winced and raised a hand to his mouth as his laughter pulled at his split lip, but couldn’t stop. It was only a moment before Lester was hopelessly drawn into the laughter and he didn’t resist as, still laughing, Ryan pulled him back down to him and into a kiss.
And at that moment nothing else mattered.
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Lester/Ryan
Words: 1,596
Rating,Warnings: 18
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Primeval.
Spoilers: Set at the end of season 2. Follows canon events in seasons 1 and 2, but the Denial friendly versions obviously *g*.
AN: This (finally, I’m so far behind) is my birthday fic for
fififolle. She asked for Lester/Ryan and lots of shouting and angst. What she actually has is Lester/Ryan who get a little bit stroppy. Subliminal references to my ex-military head canon Lester.AN2: Muchos thanks to
fredbassett for a fab beta.In the years that followed, neither of them would be able to recall who hit who first, and by then it barely mattered. But it was about to matter a great deal.
Lester was lying on his sofa, the leather pleasantly cool on his back though his shirt. His tie was undone and loose around his neck, and the first few buttons of his shirt were open. One arm lay across his eyes and the other was draped over the side of the sofa, hand wrapped around a glass of Scotch that rested on the floor.
This was relaxing with military precision.
His chest hurt, the torn flesh pulling with every breath. It had been easier to ignore in the heat of the chase; trying to track down Leek while his team battled to defend themselves and the ARC. And it had been too damned close there with Hart.
The image of Leek being torn apart by the future predator flittered across his closed eyes and he lifted his drink to his lips in response. He knew it wouldn't haunt him, he'd seen man-made devices do as much damage to a human body and it was no worse than what Leek had tried to do to him.
And had very nearly bloody succeeded. He was either more out of shape or out of practice than he realised. Or maybe both. But even with this project he hadn't expected that sort of thing to happen to him any more, not when his front line was the boardroom.
Lester's front door buzzer rang and he shifted the arm over his eyes and glared through his lounge doorway out at the closed front door as if that would tell him who was calling on him.
There was a short pause and the buzzer rang again. With a deep sigh, Lester placed his glass on the floor and got to his feet, heading for the intercom receiver. He pressed the button.
"Yes?"
"Sir, it’s Ryan. Captain Ryan. I would like a word, please, sir."
Lester raised a quizzical eyebrow at the intercom before pressing the door release. He opened his front door in anticipation of Ryan's arrival, but turned and headed back to the living room. He retrieved his Scotch from the floor and drained it before heading to the liquor cabinet and pouring another generous measure. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and shook his head at the mad fool running rather than taking the lift like any normal person. Lester grinned ruefully. Maybe that attitude went part way to explaining how out of shape he was. He reached for another glass and poured a measure of Scotch into it. If Ryan wanted ice he could get that himself.
Lester was bone-weary and not in the mood for entertaining or analysing why the captain had decided to appear on his doorstep. They had not spoken in the many months since Ryan’s injuries had caused him to leave the ARC project. But he was curious as to what would drive the soldier here today. And Lester was very careful to tell himself that curiosity was the only reason he had opened the door.
Lester heard the front door shut and footsteps approached him. He fought every instinct to turn around and wait to see him appear. He refused to let recent events scare him, and equally he would not appear eager. Instead, he took a deep breath and slipped a carefully neutral expression onto his face before turning to find Ryan waiting at the entrance to the lounge. Lester took a step forward and offered Ryan a glass. As he moved, Lester's shirt pulled open and he watched something incomprehensible cross Ryan's features as his dressing was revealed. Ryan shook his head, refusing the drink, so Lester turned and placed it and his own back on the liquor cabinet’s table and waited to see what Ryan's next move would be.
Ryan indicted at the bandage on Lester's chest with a nod of his head.
"You were injured then?"
"A scratch. Nothing to be concerned about."
"I heard you were on your own. That isn't right; some of the security staff should have stayed."
"I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you, Ryan."
Ryan's jaw was set, his lips in a firm line.
"That's not the point. If I had been there, if I had still been in charge, the ARC wouldn't have been left undefended."
“Are you blaming yourself for this, Ryan? Have you just come here for self-flagellation? If so, you can leave and do it elsewhere.”
“Of course I’m not,” Ryan said quickly, but Lester felt his heart wasn’t in it. “My point, sir, is that things should have been done differently. And they would have been I had been there. I should have been there.”
Lester gave him a hard look.
"Something you're trying to say, Captain?" he asked icily.
"You made a mistake."
"Did I now?"
"Yes."
"Ryan, you were nearly killed. Your recovery to get back in the field would have taken months. Transferring you away from the project was the only sensible option."
"Sensible option? That’s what I was to you? A commodity to be shifted around as you see fit?"
"You’re a soldier, Ryan; it’s what we do with soldiers."
Ryan took a couple of quick steps forward.
"But you weren't thinking of me as a soldier were you? You were thinking of me as something else and didn't have the fucking balls to deal with it."
In the event, when it mattered very much, it was Lester that threw the first punch. His right arm snapped out, connecting squarely with Ryan's smart mouth.
Ryan’s lip split and his teeth were painted with blood as he lashed back at Lester. Lester's head snapped back and the force of the blow to his jaw sent him staggering backwards. He landed against the liquor cabinet and the two tumblers of whisky fell to the floor in a haze of glass shards and amber liquid.
Instinct kicked in and Lester recovered quickly. He lunged at Ryan, his momentum managing to drive them both backwards.
The back of Ryan’s legs hit the sofa and he tumbled onto it, pulling Lester down with him. Their combined weight and bulk caused them both to spill onto the floor.
They struggled with each other, locked in a tight embrace, rolling on the floor, both trying to get the upper hand. Fists landed with no real power in the close confines of their clinch. They grunted with exertion, biting and grabbing at each other as they fought for dominance.
They started to pull at each others’ clothes, yanking and tearing, exposing healing scars and newly-acquired wounds.
And then their lips were together, mouths locking as much as the rest of their bodies. Lester could taste the tang of blood in Ryan's mouth and a voice in his head told him to stop. But a louder voice was telling him that this was what he needed, what he had needed and wanted for so long.
He found himself suddenly on top and Ryan was no longer trying to throw him off. Instead he was thrusting his hips against Lester and Lester could feel Ryan's similar need pushing against his thigh.
Lester ground down onto the other man and they clung to each other as they jerked roughly, panting into each others mouths.
Ryan's grip on him tightened still further and Lester tasted his own blood mixing with Ryan’s as the other man bit down on his lips. Lester groaned and forced his body down hard against Ryan. Ryan responded with a final vicious thrust and a growl and Lester knew he had come. With a moan of his own, Lester followed him into release.
They panted together, lips and teeth pressed together, but no longer in a kiss. As Lester’s breath began to come back and his heart rate started to slow, he finally moved. He pulled his head back, licking a smear of blood from Ryan’s teeth, before pushing himself half off and supporting himself on one arm.
He looked down at Ryan’s neck and let his fingers trace over the scared and raised flesh.
“Yours won’t look this bad,” Ryan said.
“I have scars; scars don’t scare me.”
“What does scare you, James?” Ryan’s suddenly soft voice coupled with the use of his first name, made Lester lift his eyes and meet Ryan’s.
He signed and pushed himself off Ryan’s body, coming to rest on the floor between the soldier and his sofa. Lying on his side, he propped himself up on one elbow and ran a hand through his hair.
“Not the same things a sensible man would be scared of.”
“Just because you’ve been scared, has it ever stopped you fighting? Did you hide from that future predator today, or did you stand up and fight it?”
“If you’re heading for a metaphor, Ryan, I should warn you that I used a machine gun on the creature and ultimately killed it with a mammoth.”
A laugh snorted out of Ryan. He was obviously trying to suppress it, but within a second he was laughing loud and hard. He winced and raised a hand to his mouth as his laughter pulled at his split lip, but couldn’t stop. It was only a moment before Lester was hopelessly drawn into the laughter and he didn’t resist as, still laughing, Ryan pulled him back down to him and into a kiss.
And at that moment nothing else mattered.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 01:01 am (UTC)" “I have scars; scars don’t scare me.”
*Melts into puddle.......gurgle.......gush*
no subject
Date: 2011-12-04 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 03:41 am (UTC)Very hot and very sweet.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-04 06:34 pm (UTC)Thanks mate, glad you liked.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-04 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 08:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 04:12 pm (UTC)Great fic.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-30 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-01 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-01 08:52 pm (UTC)"ultimately killed it with a mammoth”... that's brilliant!!! :D
no subject
Date: 2011-12-02 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-04 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-11 10:25 am (UTC)