Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Abby/Connor
Story: Going Down
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Set in late 5x02, with mild thematic spoilers up through there.
Author's Note: Part of my A/B/C universe, but there are no Becker mentions--can be read as a standalone A/C fic. This is the "other" thing that was happening during Any Port in a Storm.
Summary: After a successful mission, Abby and Connor are bunking in the CO's quarters for a bit of rest on the way back to shore.
Going Down
“That was nice of them to let us have this room,” Connor said, sitting on the bed. He’d already stripped down to just boxers.
Abby unceremoniously dumped her trousers on the floor. “It was, yes. Pity it’s just this tiny bed, though,” Abby pointed out, shoving him over so she could sit next to him.. “Not going to get much rest if we’re wrestling for space.”
“Oh, I dunno.” Connor put a hand on her waist. “I think a bit of wrestling might be just the thing.” Without warning, he pushed her back, and tried to pin her.
“Oi!” She shrieked in protest, giggling. “If that’s how it’s going to be, then…” She scrambled, and with an agile twist, flipped him, catching up his wrists and holding them above his head. She clambered atop him, knees holding his shoulders in place.
“Hey!” He pouted. “This isn’t over, you know. I’m not going down without a fight.” He struggled under her. He was strong—stronger than he looked—but she was still a superior fighter. Try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge her. And she also had other ways of subduing him.
“Oh, you’re going down all right.” She purred, and worked her way back, sitting atop his pelvis and grinding down against the already-hard bulge there.
“Oh, god!” He groaned loudly—loud enough to echo through the metal walls of the room—and bucked up sharply.
“Connor! Hush!” She ordered, getting her face down close to his.
His body went limp. The fight was over before it had even begun, and she was—as usual—the winner. Still, he had a naughty expression, and he cocked an eyebrow. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll find a way of keeping that noisy gob of yours busy.” She shot back, nipping at his mouth and grinding a little more.
He groaned again—even louder this time.
“Oh, you’re in for it now,” she hissed, trying to sound at least a little threatening.
“I’m counting on it,” he purred, grinning.
Releasing his wrists, she stuck her thumbs in the waistband of her knickers and stripped them off, then moved up his body until she was kneeling over his face, her now-tingling crotch just inches away from his lips. “Think this might shut you up for a while,” she said teasingly as she eased down.
“Mmmmhmm,” he mumbled happily, the sound muted against her skin.
It had been too long, she mused as Connor’s mouth went to work. Too long since she’d felt these intimate touches from him. The feeling took her back to their time trapped in the past, when the newness of finally giving in to love made every touch that much more exciting.
He had done his best then to keep her satisfied this way when a lack of proper supplies had made doing anything else dangerous. And those months of practice had made him very, very good at this indeed.
She braced herself against the wall behind the head of the bed, and moved with his rhythms. He slid a hand up, pushing fingers inside to probe her deeply as he suckled and licked at her swollen flesh. She bit her lip, trying to stay quiet, but now and then letting out little cries as he did something particularly thrilling.
In only a few minutes of steady, intent attention, he had her well worked up, and by the time he’d slipped two more fingers into her back hole, she was gone, gasping for air, her thighs shaking with the effort of keeping her in place.
When she finally stilled, he pulled back, gazing up at her with a wet, sticky face and smiling. “Good?” He asked, petting her gently.
“Quite.” She returned the smile. More than the physical pleasure, it felt so very good to be intimate with him again after so many of his long nights had kept them apart. Now that she had the opportunity to be with him like this, she wasn’t going to let it go. “I wouldn’t mind more, though.”
“Absolutely. Any requests?”
She shifted, climbing off of him, and helped pull him upright. She kissed him solidly, intrigued a little at her own taste on his mouth, and murmured, “I want you inside me, Connor. Make love to me, please?” Her voice was small, and sounded a little more desperate than she thought it would.
He eyed her somewhat strangely. A moment of adrenaline-fueled fun had suddenly become something else—something deeper, and more fraught with meaning. A meaning they both thoroughly understood. He didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful.
Gently, he eased her back, and she opened up for him.
Fucking Connor usually meant taking the lead; his natural preference for submission meant that he was always quite ready to lose control to someone else. She loved that about him, and had since the moment she’d figured him out. But she wanted something else this time, and he was, fortunately, happy to give it.
He enfolded her in his arms as he entered her, curling around her body, getting as much skin-to-skin contact as he could, and fastened his mouth to hers. Instead of his usual rapid-fire thrusting, he rocked his hips, pushing against her, not breaking contact. She knew it wasn’t the motion of the sub—they were still too far underwater to feel that—but there was something about the way he moved that reminded her of bobbing on the waves. It was an oddly soothing feeling, even at it was also exciting.
The peak built up slowly this time—she let it happen, instead of tensing and bucking as she usually did. And to Connor’s credit, he stayed with her, holding back his own release as he drew hers from her body. When it came, it seemed to last forever, pulsing through her with strong, all-over throbs, and she keened quietly, clinging to him as she crested.
As she finished, she felt him shudder. He’d been struggling so hard to keep control, but need overtook him. He gripped her, and his hips took on a life of their own, suddenly quickening his pace. With a sharp, loud cry he could not have contained, he finally let go, his cock pulsing intensely as he emptied inside her.
Holding on possessively as he murmured her name, she tried to capture the moment in her mind, locking away every detail like a photograph to remember him by. Inevitably, he’d be gone again, but at least, she reasoned, she could have this memory.
Finally, reluctantly, she released him and they disengaged.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.
“Thank you.” He smiled warmly, petting back her messy hair and gazing down at her, his dark eyes shining in the low light.
He shifted, and curled up behind her on the narrow bed, arms around her in the position they usually slept in. The comfort and familiarity relaxed her, and she shortly drifted off.
A knock on the door—hollow, metallic—woke her.
“Abby? Connor?” Matt’s voice filtered in. “We’re almost to shore. Could use your help getting our kit packed up. Will be down in the ops room when you’re ready.”
Connor groaned and stretched. “Damn,” he muttered.
“Yeah.” Abby sighed, kissing him tenderly. “It’s been nice. I’ve missed sleeping in your arms. The bed’s just too cold without you.”
A strange look crossed his face. She couldn’t quite read it.
“Yeah, I’ve missed that, too.” He sounded sincere, at least. But then he glanced up at the desk. His phone sat there, the screen lit up with alerts of the texts that had been piling up while it was out of range.
He climbed over her, dropping a kiss on her cheek on the way, and picked the thing up.
--End--
Characters: Abby/Connor
Story: Going Down
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Set in late 5x02, with mild thematic spoilers up through there.
Author's Note: Part of my A/B/C universe, but there are no Becker mentions--can be read as a standalone A/C fic. This is the "other" thing that was happening during Any Port in a Storm.
Summary: After a successful mission, Abby and Connor are bunking in the CO's quarters for a bit of rest on the way back to shore.
Going Down
“That was nice of them to let us have this room,” Connor said, sitting on the bed. He’d already stripped down to just boxers.
Abby unceremoniously dumped her trousers on the floor. “It was, yes. Pity it’s just this tiny bed, though,” Abby pointed out, shoving him over so she could sit next to him.. “Not going to get much rest if we’re wrestling for space.”
“Oh, I dunno.” Connor put a hand on her waist. “I think a bit of wrestling might be just the thing.” Without warning, he pushed her back, and tried to pin her.
“Oi!” She shrieked in protest, giggling. “If that’s how it’s going to be, then…” She scrambled, and with an agile twist, flipped him, catching up his wrists and holding them above his head. She clambered atop him, knees holding his shoulders in place.
“Hey!” He pouted. “This isn’t over, you know. I’m not going down without a fight.” He struggled under her. He was strong—stronger than he looked—but she was still a superior fighter. Try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge her. And she also had other ways of subduing him.
“Oh, you’re going down all right.” She purred, and worked her way back, sitting atop his pelvis and grinding down against the already-hard bulge there.
“Oh, god!” He groaned loudly—loud enough to echo through the metal walls of the room—and bucked up sharply.
“Connor! Hush!” She ordered, getting her face down close to his.
His body went limp. The fight was over before it had even begun, and she was—as usual—the winner. Still, he had a naughty expression, and he cocked an eyebrow. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll find a way of keeping that noisy gob of yours busy.” She shot back, nipping at his mouth and grinding a little more.
He groaned again—even louder this time.
“Oh, you’re in for it now,” she hissed, trying to sound at least a little threatening.
“I’m counting on it,” he purred, grinning.
Releasing his wrists, she stuck her thumbs in the waistband of her knickers and stripped them off, then moved up his body until she was kneeling over his face, her now-tingling crotch just inches away from his lips. “Think this might shut you up for a while,” she said teasingly as she eased down.
“Mmmmhmm,” he mumbled happily, the sound muted against her skin.
It had been too long, she mused as Connor’s mouth went to work. Too long since she’d felt these intimate touches from him. The feeling took her back to their time trapped in the past, when the newness of finally giving in to love made every touch that much more exciting.
He had done his best then to keep her satisfied this way when a lack of proper supplies had made doing anything else dangerous. And those months of practice had made him very, very good at this indeed.
She braced herself against the wall behind the head of the bed, and moved with his rhythms. He slid a hand up, pushing fingers inside to probe her deeply as he suckled and licked at her swollen flesh. She bit her lip, trying to stay quiet, but now and then letting out little cries as he did something particularly thrilling.
In only a few minutes of steady, intent attention, he had her well worked up, and by the time he’d slipped two more fingers into her back hole, she was gone, gasping for air, her thighs shaking with the effort of keeping her in place.
When she finally stilled, he pulled back, gazing up at her with a wet, sticky face and smiling. “Good?” He asked, petting her gently.
“Quite.” She returned the smile. More than the physical pleasure, it felt so very good to be intimate with him again after so many of his long nights had kept them apart. Now that she had the opportunity to be with him like this, she wasn’t going to let it go. “I wouldn’t mind more, though.”
“Absolutely. Any requests?”
She shifted, climbing off of him, and helped pull him upright. She kissed him solidly, intrigued a little at her own taste on his mouth, and murmured, “I want you inside me, Connor. Make love to me, please?” Her voice was small, and sounded a little more desperate than she thought it would.
He eyed her somewhat strangely. A moment of adrenaline-fueled fun had suddenly become something else—something deeper, and more fraught with meaning. A meaning they both thoroughly understood. He didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful.
Gently, he eased her back, and she opened up for him.
Fucking Connor usually meant taking the lead; his natural preference for submission meant that he was always quite ready to lose control to someone else. She loved that about him, and had since the moment she’d figured him out. But she wanted something else this time, and he was, fortunately, happy to give it.
He enfolded her in his arms as he entered her, curling around her body, getting as much skin-to-skin contact as he could, and fastened his mouth to hers. Instead of his usual rapid-fire thrusting, he rocked his hips, pushing against her, not breaking contact. She knew it wasn’t the motion of the sub—they were still too far underwater to feel that—but there was something about the way he moved that reminded her of bobbing on the waves. It was an oddly soothing feeling, even at it was also exciting.
The peak built up slowly this time—she let it happen, instead of tensing and bucking as she usually did. And to Connor’s credit, he stayed with her, holding back his own release as he drew hers from her body. When it came, it seemed to last forever, pulsing through her with strong, all-over throbs, and she keened quietly, clinging to him as she crested.
As she finished, she felt him shudder. He’d been struggling so hard to keep control, but need overtook him. He gripped her, and his hips took on a life of their own, suddenly quickening his pace. With a sharp, loud cry he could not have contained, he finally let go, his cock pulsing intensely as he emptied inside her.
Holding on possessively as he murmured her name, she tried to capture the moment in her mind, locking away every detail like a photograph to remember him by. Inevitably, he’d be gone again, but at least, she reasoned, she could have this memory.
Finally, reluctantly, she released him and they disengaged.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.
“Thank you.” He smiled warmly, petting back her messy hair and gazing down at her, his dark eyes shining in the low light.
He shifted, and curled up behind her on the narrow bed, arms around her in the position they usually slept in. The comfort and familiarity relaxed her, and she shortly drifted off.
A knock on the door—hollow, metallic—woke her.
“Abby? Connor?” Matt’s voice filtered in. “We’re almost to shore. Could use your help getting our kit packed up. Will be down in the ops room when you’re ready.”
Connor groaned and stretched. “Damn,” he muttered.
“Yeah.” Abby sighed, kissing him tenderly. “It’s been nice. I’ve missed sleeping in your arms. The bed’s just too cold without you.”
A strange look crossed his face. She couldn’t quite read it.
“Yeah, I’ve missed that, too.” He sounded sincere, at least. But then he glanced up at the desk. His phone sat there, the screen lit up with alerts of the texts that had been piling up while it was out of range.
He climbed over her, dropping a kiss on her cheek on the way, and picked the thing up.
--End--