Title: Tac Me Up! Tac Me Down!
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/Characters: Connor/Ryan
Rating: NC-17
Summary: SN(c)AFU: Situation Normal, (connor) All Fucked Up.
Word Count: 1,393
Warnings: Restraints, spanking, gun oil, tac-gear (not so much a warning as an enticement)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Yes, I have heard of the phrase ‘you broke it, you bought it’. Why do you ask?
Notes: Lyle belongs to fredbassett. Apologies for the stains luv.




Connor had thought he was going to get away with it.

Ryan had looked pissed at his teensy little snafu in the truck (but really, he’d been the one who started it, hadn’t he?), and Connor thought he would be in for it when they got back to the army base but then the Captain had seemed to calm down and had actually been smiling a little on the way back, like he was thinking of something very nice.

But when they were back at the base and all the others had left, most of them still sniggering, Connor hadn’t got more than two steps towards Stephen’s Range Rover when a hand had snagged him by the collar and a bland voice had said
“Want a word with you, Temple. It’s ok Hart – I’ll see he gets back”

And despite Connor’s pleading look Stephen, the traitor, had just grinned and gone off, mouthing ‘mind your knickers’ at him as he went.


Abby had once told Connor (after an all night Tekken marathon that had left the flat in rather a mess) that when he used the puppy-dog eyes it was hard to stay mad at him, so he thought he might try that now.
Ryan just raised one eyebrow at him and jerked a thumb at the door behind them.
“In there. Now”

Obviously not a dog-lover.
Though come to think of it, despite Abby saying that she’d still clipped him round the head. (and speaking of pets, Ryan’s got just the right tone of voice for training. For saying things like ‘heel!’ and ‘stay!’ and ‘come!’… and he’s going to stop that thought before it goes any further)

He slinks through the door when Ryan opened it.

***

…and finds himself in some sort of storage shed come weapons room. A line of Xander’s from Buffy about guns getting girls hot flits through his mind and all he can think is, ‘Oooo shit. I’m in trouble now’.

He jumps when the door slams behind him but he doesn’t have time to turn round before he’s being pushed front first against a locker and Ryan’s plastered against him. He’s still wearing his gear from the hunt and the vest digs rather sharply into Connor’s back and it probably says something bad about him that the sensation makes certain parts of him… perk up.

Hot breath on the side of his face and a dark voice says
“You caused me a bit of embarrassment back there Temple. The lads are going to be making jokes about boxers until I’m forced to shoot one of them now”

“You were the one who was shouting about g-strings”

Yeah, Mighty Mouth to the rescue again Connor. And he might not even have been kidding about shooting someone.

Ryan sucks in a breath through his teeth and says in a mocking tone
“Now, now; it’s not sensible to talk back to someone who has you pinned, Temple. I think for that, and your comment back in the truck you’re going to have to be disciplined”

…and it undeniably says something bad about him that THAT idea has his pulse speeding up.

His breathing has got faster too and he’s damn near hyperventilating here, but he’s still able to open his mouth and pant out the next contender for ‘Stupidest Remark of the Evening’
“I’d like to see you try!”

Teeth bite down on his neck and he gasps and arches his spine – and he can tell by the way his arse rubs against something that Ryan’s finding this just as stimulating as he is.
Unless that actually is a gun in his pocket. It’s a possibility.

“Oh, I’ll do more than just try, Temple”

Ryan grabs his wrists and bangs his arms against the mesh of the lockers so he’s spread-eagled. His weight leaves Connor’s back for a lonely moment and then hands are snaking round his waist and loosening his trousers. His jeans are baggy and fall straight down to the floor when the belt and zipper are undone. There’s an amused rumble of ‘and they are boxers’ before they’re shoved down to he ankles as well.

Cold air brings goose-pimples to his legs and he supposes he’s a bit naive but the first slap takes him completely by surprise. The hot sting of it makes him rear up and Ryan is instantly there holding his arms.

“I told you, Temple. Discipline. Now be still or I’ll tie your hands”

Oh GOD!
Even if he’d been gagged (and he should really, really stop giving himself ideas like that) Connor didn’t think he’d have been able to contain the moan that leaked out of him at that. He wondered wildly if maybe Ryan might not just think Connor was agreeing – you know ‘It’s a bit damp today, isn’t it?’ ‘Moan’ – but that idea was blown out of the water at Ryan’s rather evil chuckle and that deep rough voice saying
“Like that idea? A little kinky, aren’t you Temple? Alright then”

God, and he thought the tac-gear had been sexy. Call him Mr Kinky? Call him Kinky McKink, the biggest perv in Pervo land more like!

The other man reaches down and his thought process is a bit scattered, possibly because his blood flow’s getting directed elsewhere at the moment, so he doesn’t have a chance to make more than a couple of basic vowel sounds before Ryan’s pulling his arms back and wrapping Connor’s own belt around his wrists. Then he begins his ‘discipline’ in earnest.

Connor can’t help the yelps and cry’s and even squeals that he lets loose as slap after slap lands on his bum and legs, working across every inch of flesh until his skin is just one big, hot, electric tingle. And he wishes he had the wherewithal to garble even basic vowel sounds now because he NEVER thought he could be so turned on and hard in his LIFE and if Ryan keeps that up one second more Connor’s going to be making a mess of this locker he’s leaning on.

And then, nonononono, it stops. Just Ryan breathing very heavily behind him and a single tense hand on his hip. Connor rolls his forehead against the cool metal of the locker and makes a thin whine of protest.

Ryan’s voice has a choked sound to it when he says
“God, Connor! If you could see yourself…”

He hears the ripping sound of Velcro and a glugging noise, and then Ryan’s weight is against him again and cool, slippery fingers are smoothing into the crack of his arse. The sharp smell of mineral oil drifts up and he cants his hips back as the first finger pushes inside him.

Rough stubble and soft lips brush against the back of his neck and a voice breathing ‘so tight’ and a second finger twisting along the first and a ‘make you feel good, baby’ as fingers are replaced by the blunt head of Ryan’s cock.

The pushing burn of it joins the glow still running through his nerves from his skin and all it takes is three or four long hard strokes and Connor is just blazing everywhere and he starts to tremble so hard the locker’s vibrating and some small part of him wonders where that high, continuous ‘ah ah ah ah’ noise is coming from and Ryan’s groaning like he’s on the edge and clamping onto Connor’s hips to slam into him and Connor’s going to… he’s going to…

Make a mess of the locker.


****

Afterwards Connor’s still so wobbly that Ryan actually has to do his jeans up for him.

When he’s finished he gives Connor a last, smoking hot kiss and Connor’s still blinking dazedly from that when Ryan’s shout of laughter startles him
“Nice one, Temple! You’ve come all over Lyle’s gear! I didn’t realise we were against his locker. Serves the sod right”

Ryan seems amused enough by it that he’s still chuckling as they leave the storage room, but Connor thinks he might avoid Lieutenant Lyle for a while.

Ryan sets off towards the main building, calling over his shoulder
“Come on, we can sit down with a cup of tea before I take you home”

Bastard.

Connor rubs his arse gingerly as he follows. He’s not going to want to sit down for a while, thanks.