Fic: Connor Temple, Sex God (Primeval, Abby/Connor, Connor/Stephen, Abby/Connor/Stephen, NC-17)
Title: Connor Temple, Sex God
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairings: Abby/Connor, Connor/Stephen, Abby/Connor/Stephen
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Set in vague series 1. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.
Word Count: ~13,700.
Status: Complete
Author's Notes: Written for the Primeval Ficathon for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beren_writes, for prompt #1: aphrodisiac pollen or aphrodisiac insect bites or anything that makes them frisky :) and who also wanted a threesome.
( Connor Temple, Sex God - Part One of Two )
-o-
The doorbell roused him from the bed, where they'd eventually settled. Abby was still asleep, tangled in the covers, and he took a second to slide his hand over the smooth, golden curve of her head before he staggered towards the door, cursing postmen or delivery men or Mrs Hodgson next door complaining about the noise again, whoever it was who had dragged him out of bed at this ungodly hour...
...of 11 am, actually, judging by the clock that hung over the kitchen counter. Huh.
He scratched absently at his chest, his skin prickling in a way that told him it must be allergy season again. Joy. But when he finally pulled open the door, blinking blearily at the person standing on the doorstep, it wasn't the postman and it wasn't Mrs Hodgson.
It was Stephen. Stephen who stared back at him for long moments before pushing past him and walking up the stairs into the flat like he belonged there.
"You busy?" Stephen asked, just as he had the day before and, just like the day before, Connor blinked at him.
"Um." Well, this was awkward. The faint stirrings of guilt fluttered in his stomach and it was weird to be feeling them now. "I was... um..."
"Busy." He flinched when Abby's voice came from behind him, hard as steel. As hard as Abby could be sometimes, and now the guilt wasn't just a fluttering, but pretty much a herd of something stampeding through his midsection.
"Oh," said Stephen, and his voice was hard as well. There was a glint of something in his eye that made Connor swallow, caught on the cusp of fear and desire. "With you, I take it."
It was like being at a tennis match, where the chances were that the balls about to be lobbed would be his. His gaze darted between them, back and forth. First Abby, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, her arms folded and her hip cocked, attitude in every line of her body. And then Stephen, loose limbed and relaxed, at least until you caught sight of the tension around his eyes, the tightening of his mouth.
"Yes," said Abby, and smiled sweetly. Fifteen to love.
Stephen smirked but there was no amusement in it, just a predatory kind of hunger that caught Connor's attention and held it. He was so dead. They would both kill him and then probably play football with his head or something. Still. He supposed it was something they could bond over.
"Well, it's only fair, I suppose," said Stephen, and the smile that crossed his face was hard, measured. "He was... busy with me yesterday." Fifteen all.
"That's nice," said Abby. "I'm glad he could spare you some time out of his busy schedule." Ouch. That had to be a foul ball.
Stephen's mouth twitched. "Well, I suppose there's only one thing we can do." Oh, please God, don't let them actually come to blows. That would be more guilt than he could handle. Admittedly, he had occasionally thought of Abby in that way, but in his fantasies it hadn't been so much fighting as wrestling, and it hadn't been with Stephen. Not unless Stephen wore a bikini and mud was involved.
"I'm listening," Abby said but her stance was still confrontational, which meant that Connor's safety was probably compromised and even if she didn't kill him she'd never forgive him. The thought made him more miserable than he'd thought possible, and it wasn't just because it meant no more sex.
In fact, the thought of them fighting - over him, of all people - made him just as miserable.
He opened his mouth to say something - anything - but he had no idea what. No idea what words could possibly make this all right, and what had he been thinking? He certainly hadn't been using his brain, at least not his big one, that much was clear.
But then Stephen's mouth twitched again, turning up a little at one corner, and Connor froze, the not-words trapped inside him as he was transfixed by the sight. Although these days the sight of Stephen's mouth caught hold of his attention even at the best of times.
"How about this?" Stephen asked before taking the whole two steps necessary to reach Connor. One broad hand wrapped around the back of his neck, Stephen's thumb resting on the pulse point, and then Stephen turned Connor's head towards him, moving in slowly, his eyes not leaving Abby until his lips met Connor's. Then and only then did Connor get his full attention. His full and slow attention, those lips moving over Connor's deliberately, not a millimetre of Connor's mouth left unexplored.
Oh, God. Maybe death was worth it.
When Stephen pulled back he left his hand on the back of Connor's neck, a warm, heavy weight against Connor's skin. But Stephen wasn't looking at him now - his gaze was locked with Abby's and Connor couldn't tell what was going on between them, not this time. Not ever. But then Stephen's hand put just enough subtle pressure on the back Connor's neck to guide his face in Abby's direction, for Connor to meet Abby's eyes himself as her gaze darted between them, both confusion and a now familiar desire written in her face.
Stephen's hand finally moved, sliding down his back to give him a gentle shove - gentle for Stephen, which meant it was enough to have Connor staggering forward a few steps towards Abby. He glanced back at Stephen, now thoroughly confused, but when he looked back at Abby the frown on her face wasn't angry or even puzzled. It was thoughtful, considering. She held Stephen's gaze for a long moment and then huffed out an impatient breath, closing the gap between herself and Connor to drag him into a heated kiss. If it lacked Stephen's thoroughness it more than made up for it in pure storm and fury, the kind of kiss that stripped away all of Connor's defences and left him panting and horny as hell.
Abby finally let go of him and he staggered a few steps, back towards Stephen. Abby folded her arms again, giving Stephen a narrow eyed look over the top of them. "Are you suggesting we share?"
What?
"Yes," said Stephen. "It seems the fairest thing."
Wait. What?
"What? Like a timeshare?" There was a bite to Abby's voice but it didn't seem to faze Stephen. Instead his mouth twitched again, that quiet amusement that Connor found so devastatingly attractive, at least now he knew what Stephen's mouth was capable of.
Stephen didn't answer her straight away - or maybe he did, but in Stephen's quiet but effective 'make a point' way. He took another two steps, longer strides this time that carried him past Connor and all the way to Abby. And then his hand settled on the back of Abby's neck, sliding up into her hair and tilting her head back.
Oh.
Oh. Wow. Stephen really did kiss thoroughly, didn't he? It was almost as hot from the outside as it was being on the receiving end. Almost.
When Stephen pulled back, Abby rocked on her feet, blinking rapidly. Her sheet had slipped, the soft curve of her breast rising above the fabric, doing interesting things as she breathed in and out rapidly. "Oh," she said and Connor quite agreed with that sentiment. "So we share?"
Stephen nodded and Abby met his eyes, a moment of perfect understanding seeming to pass between. Connor gaped at them, still not quite following the conversation until they both turned to look at him, Abby's look considering and Stephen's just hungry.
Oh.
Oh!
Best. Idea. Ever!
-o-
If Abby was beautiful - and she was - then Abby and Stephen together were just spectacular. Stephen's hands skimmed her body, seeking out and touching places that Connor would never have dreamt of touching. Well, okay, maybe in those really dirty dreams, the ones where he woke up sweating and with a hard on that only took two or three strokes to bring him off. And if he thought watching his cock sliding in and out of Abby was hot, that was nothing to watching when it was Stephen's cock, especially when Stephen reached over and caught hold of his hand, pulling his fingers towards Abby until they pressed against her skin, right in front of where Stephen's cock was still sliding in and out of her.
"There," Stephen said, and his voice was rough with need. "Stroke her there." He did exactly as he was told and Abby bucked against him with a soft cry, her fingers clutching convulsively against his shoulders. He leant down and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth as his fingers slipped in her wetness. Maybe he should use his tongue down there instead of his fingers, taste both Abby and Stephen together, but there was something he wanted to do first. He curled two of his fingers, pushing them slowly into Abby and feeling Stephen's cock press against the back of his knuckles.
It took Abby apart, her body shaking as she let out a sharp cry, riding the crest of another orgasm. She was so fucking hot. They both were, but Abby, with her face contorted like that and her fingers scratching at his skin where she could reach... He could ignore that digging pain if it meant watching this.
Stephen eased out of her, still hard, and Connor's fingers slid out with him. He stared down into Abby's gorgeous, flushed face, as Stephen said, "Your turn."
God, yes. And Stephen must have been equally impatient because he reached over and caught hold of Connor's hip, tugging him closer to Abby until Connor moved of his own volition, sliding into Abby's wet heat.
Oh, God, yes. This was never going to be anything but fantastic. He started to move, so lost in sensation that he barely registered Stephen rolling away for a second. Abby moved with him, her arms wound around his shoulders and her mouth pressed against his cheek, soft sighs escaping her with every thrust.
Then Stephen was back, stroking his fingers along the length of Abby's flank, tracing over the sweet curve of her hip. And then his fingers moved further back, skimming over the soft swell of her backside and then pausing for a moment.
Abby turned her head to look at him, Stephen's eyes searching her face. When Connor slowed, however, Abby turned her attention back to him, her small hands gripping the cheeks of his arse and pulling him deeper into her. "Yes," she said, the sound escaping as a gasp, but whether she was talking to him or Stephen, Connor couldn't tell.
Stephen seemed to take it as permission for whatever he was planning because he squeezed some gel onto his fingers. When Connor slowed again to watch him, Abby registered her displeasure by sinking her short nails into his backside, letting out another soft cry of pleasure when he instinctively jerked away from the pressure, pushing more deeply into her.
Then Stephen's fingers were back, sliding down the crease of Abby's arse and then deeper, pushing into her. Wait. You could do that? With girls.
Stephen looked up and met his eyes with a small grin. "Front or back?" he asked and Abby's body clenched tightly around Connor as she shuddered, whatever Stephen's fingers were doing working.
"Back," he stuttered and Stephen gave him another grin, leaning over Abby's shoulders to kiss him thoroughly.
"Okay. This time. My turn next." Stephen pulled back and looked at him, one eyebrow raised and that small smirk still playing around the corner of his mouth and, oh. Right. Okay, then.
"Here," Stephen murmured, his attention focused on what he was doing. He slid his finger out and squirted more gel onto his fingertips. This time he slid two fingers back into Abby, and once again she shuddered, her body tightening around Connor's in a way that felt absolutely perfect. "Just let me get her loose for you."
Connor swallowed. This time when he stopped moving, his cock still buried in Abby, she didn't protest. Instead she shuddered again, her body rocking gently back and forth, pressing into whatever Stephen's fingers were doing to her. And each time she rocked forward, Connor's cock slid a little deeper into her.
"There," said Stephen, pulling his fingers out and wiping them off with a wet wipe. It made Connor wonder what the hell else Abby was keeping in that bedside drawer of hers. Maybe he'd look - later. "Let me... Come here."
He let Stephen take the lead, positioning himself where Stephen showed him, and it was Stephen's fingers that caught hold of his cock, guiding it until it pressed against Abby's entrance. "Go slowly at first, okay?"
"Okay." He was breathless, his heart racing in anticipation as he pushed forward. His cock slipped the first time, sliding away in whatever lubricant Stephen had spread down there, but then Stephen's fingers came back, more firmly this time, and he got the angle right. There was pressure at first as Abby's body resisted but, when he pushed a little more firmly, concerned about hurting her, the entrance to her body finally gave way and he pushed a little inside.
God. She was so tight there. So much tighter than... He wasn't going to be able to last long.
"A little deeper, okay?" Stephen murmured in his ear, and it was the feel of Stephen's hot breath against his skin as much as the tight heat of Abby's body that sent a shiver through him. "That's it."
Abby gasped and he hesitated, wondering if he was getting it all wrong, but then she pushed back against him and he slid in a little deeper, a gasp escaping his own throat. "Okay," Stephen breathed, his voice tense with need. "Stay still for a bit. Just until I..."
He didn't say any more but then Stephen had always been more about action than talking. He was earning that reputation now, moving smoothly over Connor and Abby both until he was on the other side of her, his cock hard and lovely.
"Ready," he asked, and Connor had no idea which of them the question was aimed at; Stephen's look took them both in. He nodded anyway and Abby didn't need to answer, not when her greedy hands were already pulling Stephen down to her, her fingers buried in his short hair as she slanted her mouth over his.
And then Stephen's cock was pushing into her. Connor could feel it, feel it sliding along the length of his, only Abby's skin separating the pair of them, and he pressed his face into Abby's hair, desperately trying not to come. Not yet.
Abby didn't have any such need for restraint and she cried out, her body shaking again at the sensations that had her in their grasp. Her fingers clutched desperately at Stephen, then one hand flailed backwards, seizing hold of Connor's hip, pulling him to her.
"Connor," said Stephen, and even in the midst of the tension and need there was a smile buried in his voice. "Move."
Oh, God. He pulled out, just a little, more concerned now with not embarrassing himself by coming too soon than worry about Abby, not when Abby was letting out these sounds, high pitched little mewls like she was completely lost in the pleasure of it all, reduced to animal instinct. When he pushed back in again she let out another sharp cry, her body jerking and her fingers scratching at his skin. He'd have marks tomorrow, maybe even the rest of the week.
Stephen was moving as well, matching his rhythm to Connor's, and Abby cried out again, completely lost, like she'd started coming but wasn't stopping, each move they made simply taking her higher and higher. He closed his eyes, no longer worried about Abby or about Stephen, and just let go, short, blunt jabs into her until his balls finally tightened and he came, muffling the sounds he was making - the ones that weren't already drowned out by Abby - against her skin.
This time Stephen seemed to have come, too, and he reached across Abby, catching hold of the back of Connor's neck to pull him into a fierce, needy kiss. Connor lost himself in it, in the feel of Stephen's tongue in his mouth, and his cock slid out of Abby's body, Abby rolling onto her back with another soft, satisfied sigh. When he opened his eyes, Stephen's tongue still tracing the contours of his mouth, Abby was looking up at them, her eyes soft, still blurred with pleasure.
"Your turn," Stephen murmured and, oh. Yes. He wanted that, now, what Abby had experienced and when Abby shuffled awkwardly to one side he settled himself on the bed on his front. The sheets were still warm from Abby's body, damp from her sweat, and they smelled like her. He closed his eyes and breathed that scent in as Stephen's fingers began to trace over his skin, small, concentric circles that dipped lower and lower.
And that was how Connor lost his virginity for the third and final time. But then, they did say practice made perfect.
-o-
Connor would probably have been bouncing the next day if he'd managed to get some sleep. As it was, the days of debauchery were starting to catch up with him. He felt gritty and tired, and his body ached in new and interesting ways, with new and interesting bruises. It didn't help that his allergy rash was still itching, the skin rising in welts whenever he gave in and scratched it.
Which probably meant that he should stop scratching, or at least find the nearest chemist and stock up on antihistamines, having exhausted last summer's supply. Maybe stock up on a lot of antihistamines - he hadn't had this kind of reaction to pollen since he was a kid, which didn't bode well for his summer. But at least he was still running on an adrenaline high, the endorphins racing through his body being just enough to mask the worst of the stiffness and let him deal with the lingering itchiness.
He scratched absently at his wrist as he stared up at the Home Office building where he was meeting Cutter in Lester's office. Something about those pictures and needing Connor's input. It put a bounce back in his step, the idea that Cutter would need his input, or at least the input from his creature database, giving him a lovely warm glow even though he knew - on some level at least - that it was kind of stupid to feel that way when he should be all professional about it or something.
Connor Temple, Professional Creature Hunter.
That put a grin on his face, and if he didn't bounce up the steps to the building at least his legs didn't cave way underneath him entirely.
Cutter wasn't there yet and he hovered outside Lester's office for a while, eyeing a couple of suits stalking past him - grim faced with purpose, even on a Saturday - and probably looking as out of place as he felt.
"For God's sake, come in, Temple." There was no mistaking Lester's dulcet tones and Connor jumped, spinning round on his heels and staggering a little when his stiff muscles let him down. Lester was standing in the entrance to his office, arms folded superciliously across his chest and eyeing Connor like he was something particularly unpleasant that the cat had dragged in. When Connor straightened up, pulling the strap of his laptop bag so that it settled on his shoulder more securely, Lester rolled his eyes. "You're making the building look untidy," he said, the words sliding out in a sea of sarcasm, the way that only Lester seemed to be able to manage. "And I'd rather you didn't loiter in a way that suggests you have anything to do with me. At least, not where people can actually see you."
That was probably what passed for an invitation in Lester's world, especially given that he left the door of his office open when he stalked back inside. After a moment, Connor sighed and followed him, feet dragging on the floor. Please, God, let Cutter get there soon. He had no idea what to say to Lester at the best of times let alone when he was aching and sore and probably still - even after a shower - smelling like sex.
"Professor Cutter has informed me that he will be late," Lester said, settling back down into his chair and giving his attention to the papers that were neatly aligned in piles on his desk. They certainly seemed more interesting to Lester than Connor could ever be. "I don't know how long he'll be so take a seat, sit still, and try not to make any noise."
It was like being back in the Headmaster's office at school, that sinking feeling of dread even though you knew you'd done nothing wrong. Well, nothing you could remember but every vague possibility flitted through your mind anyway, leaving you squirming uncomfortably. Only if Lester was a Headmaster, he'd be at one of those posh, independent schools where all the boys went by their first names and did inappropriate things in the shower or something.
Like he and Abby had this morning, while Stephen watched.
He finally settled on a leather chair next to the small meeting table in one corner of the office. Typically, it creaked as he sat down and he paused, mid sitting, to glance apologetically at Lester.
"Sorry," he mouthed, settling all the way down with a soft, accompanying squeak.
Lester glared at him and that was definitely a Headmaster level of disapproval. Maybe even more than that, and Connor swallowed, trying to make himself seem as small as possible.
"I'd offer you some tea or coffee," said Lester, looking back at his paperwork and seeming to dismiss Connor even from his most temporary of thoughts, "but my secretary is on holiday." Connor wondered if that was a hint that he should maybe go and do something, not that he'd have the faintest idea of what and somehow the idea that Lester would drink instant coffee was ludicrous. "Besides, you might actually get the idea that you were welcome here."
Probably best just to stay exactly where he was - and as mute as he was - and hope that if he didn't make any sudden moves, Lester wouldn't see him. Sort of like T. rex in Jurassic Park. It was a thought, at least, and it couldn't do any harm, right?
Lester pushed himself up from his chair with a barely concealed snort, glancing over at Connor with something that looked like irritation and Connor froze, wondering what he'd done wrong now. But all Lester did was sigh, the sound heavy with the weight of the world - or maybe just the weight of disapproval. Then Lester's attention turned away from him towards the glass fronted cabinet, filled with neatly labelled lever arch files, that adorned the far wall of Lester's office opposite his desk.
Right next to Connor. Maybe he should offer to fetch one or something; in fact, he half expected Lester to snap the word out anyway, a brisk, barked 'fetch' that would pretty much cement Connor's place in the world, only Lester probably rated dogs a heck of a lot higher than Connor. Instead, Lester stalked towards him and Connor leant out of the way, still making himself as small as possible. Lester huffed a sigh out and then stopped, hesitating by Connor's chair and staring down at him with a slightly perplexed expression.
Connor's wrist itched again and he was already pushing his sleeve up to scratch it when Lester leant in closer.
"You... don't actually smell terrible."
What? Connor stared up at him, completely and utterly thrown. Lester's eyes narrowed fractionally, and then the man leant down, moving closer, getting in Connor's personal space and Lester's eyes were almost green this close, and...
And his wrist was really itching. Connor tore his eyes away from Lester, his fingernails digging into the skin and leaving raised, red welts behind. What...?
Oh, God. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong because Lester - Lester of all people! - should not be hitting on him.
Lester's hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he twitched, eyes darting back up towards Lester's face, mesmerised like a deer in headlights. He shouldn't... There was something...
"Connor?"
Cutter's voice sounded from the doorway and Connor snapped back to himself, lurching away from Lester and the hold Lester had on him, at least mentally if not physically, not now there was some distance between them.
Lester blinked, eyes darting between Connor and Cutter, confusion still marring their depths. And then he harrumphed, fingers flying to the cuffs of his shirt, straightening them meticulously as he bought himself some time to think.
"Would anyone like to explain to me what is going on?" he asked crisply, hands moving to his tie.
"Connor?"
Oh, God. He had no idea, none at all, except -
"Something's really, really wrong, Professor."
That much he was sure of.
-o-
It was mortifying, sitting in the small lab down in the basement, being prodded and poked and generally stared at. More than mortifying, and Connor wanted to do nothing so much as curl up into a small, whimpering ball in one corner and rock for a while.
Lester had dragged some Government doctor in from who knew where. A female doctor, and that somehow made the crawling shame even worse. She was brisk and efficient as she shone lights into his eyes and tested his reflexes, but her face gave nothing away. Not that Connor would have been able to read her expression even if she'd had the most mobile of faces, given that most of it was hidden by a white mask.
Lester thought it had something to do with smell, which made sense given how the common theme running through everything that had happened over the last few days appeared to be how good he smelt. At least, that was the common theme now that he could look back on it all and the pieces dropped into place one by one, each one hitting with a hollow clang that he felt in the pit of his stomach. The doctor, however - and he hadn't caught her name, too wrapped up in disbelief and nausea to be listening closely - seemed more interested in the rash running up his arm and blooming across his chest. And in the small bruises and abrasions on his body left by Stephen and Abby - both the marks he remembered and the ones he didn't. This one left by Stephen's fingers, that one left by Abby's sucking mouth.
They were never, ever going to forgive him for this; he wouldn't blame them.
He wished the doctor had left him his clothes at least - more of them anyway than his boxers, which was all she had left him. But once he'd stripped down to that, she'd had them bundled up and carted off somewhere to be tested for who knew what. He couldn't see what good that would do - he'd changed his clothes at least three, maybe four times since Monday? Possibly even more. It wasn't something he'd paid much attention to, not when he'd spent as much time out of his clothes as in them over the last few days.
The shame rose again, staining his cheeks and chest, and it only made his skin itch even more. "Don't scratch," the doctor snapped, not even looking in his direction, and his fingers dropped down to his side, curling helplessly against the paper underneath him. She busied herself with preparing another swab, although surely by now there was nowhere else on his body that she could swipe it over, at least not that she hadn't done at least once. She'd already taken samples from his skin and his mouth, underneath his eyes. Even his nasal and ear passages.
She turned towards him, brisk impersonality in every line of her body.
"I need you to remove the rest of your clothing now."
Oh, God. And he'd thought it couldn't get worse.
-o-
"Pollen?"
Cutter's voice was incredulous and Connor couldn't blame him for that one. The doctor - Saunders, Lester had called her, and it suited her down to her short, greying hair; the hard, uncompromising lines of her face - merely raised one eyebrow.
"Certainly the pollen samples we retrieved from the last anomaly site match the chemical traces we found on Temple's skin."
"You're trying to tell me that... that Connor was somehow contaminated by pollen coming through the anomaly?"
Saunders snorted, and that sound alone would have told Connor that she was from Lester's school of thought when it came to their little team. "That's the most reasonable explanation we have at this time. It's certainly not from any species that's native to this country, nor can the botany bods match it to any known species - in this time or in any other that we're aware of." She shrugged. "Of course, you'd probably be the first to tell me how the fossil record is incomplete, but there's no doubt that the pollen came through the anomaly."
"We've cordoned off the site," Lester interjected smoothly, "The area doesn't exactly have a heavy traffic anyway, and the Met Office tell me that the wind was remarkably cooperative in terms of dispersal, so we don't need to be concerned about random orgies breaking out in the vicinity. That, at least, is one small mercy to be grateful for." His tone managed to convey a complete disinterest in the whole discussion and of course he wouldn't be interested. Connor had figured out something was wrong before Lester had had a chance to completely and utterly humiliate himself. Some small, petty part of him was almost sorry about it. Maybe Lester would be a little more sympathetic to his plight if Cutter had waited for a few more minutes and found Lester on his knees on the carpet, Connor's dick buried halfway down his throat. But then the shame hit again - he wouldn't wish that even on Lester, let alone...
Abby and Stephen were never going to forgive him. How could they when he couldn't forgive himself?
"Why Connor?" Cutter had to ask, and Connor scrunched his eyes shut, another wave of humiliation crashing over him.
"My understanding is that Connor is the only member of your team with a noticeable hay fever allergy. I suspect that has something to do with it."
How fucking convenient, and what would be even more convenient would the floor opening right about now and swallowing him whole.
He shouldn't think about swallowing because he was pretty sure that the doctor's throat swabs would have picked up more than pollen traces given his activities over the last few days and what if she said something about that and, oh, God, could he just die now? Please?
"But... you think it's worn off now?" Poor Cutter. This was throwing even him, probably because he was remembering that brief moment when even he'd wanted to jump Connor's bones and wondering how the hell he'd missed that there was something off. Of course, Connor had missed it, stupid bastard that he was - he'd actually believed, for several days, that people wanted him. How fucking stupid was he?
Really fucking stupid, that was what.
"We're satisfied that whatever chemical reaction the pollen caused in Temple's body has ceased. Certainly the most recent samples show minimal traces, and it's decreasing exponentially." Cutter didn't look convinced and that hurt, more than Connor thought it would.
"If you're that concerned," Lester said, his fingers back to straightening his cuffs the way he did whenever he was about to say something devastating, "perhaps you might like to sniff Connor so that we can gauge the effect, make sure that there's no longer anything to worry about."
It was amazing how much noise one chair could make when it skidded across the floor, and another wave of shame surged over him, burning his face and tightening in his chest, when he realised that they were all staring at him and it was his chair and his noise. "Don't," he said, and his voice came out thready. "Please."
"Connor..." Cutter's voice trailed off, the man at a loss for once.
"If it's any consolation," Lester murmured, "I can honestly say that I certainly have no desire to spend any more time in Mr Temple's no doubt normally devastating company. Perhaps that should count for something."
"Lester," Cutter snapped but any words after that seemed to fail him. He settled for glaring at Lester instead, as though Lester was going to pay that any mind. Connor was just glad Cutter wasn't looking at him any more.
"Can I go home now?" he asked, and his voice still came out too quiet, faltering off into silence when he caught their attention again.
Cutter's face softened slightly, and that hurt, too, the idea that Cutter might forgive him. But then it was easy for Cutter, wasn't it? Not like...
Cutter glanced over at Saunders but she wasn't looking at him. Instead she was eyeing Connor like he was a particularly interesting specimen, and the cold fear gripped him that maybe she'd say no. Maybe Duncan and Tom hadn't been wrong about Government conspiracies and he was doomed to spend the rest of his life in a lab, just another subject for their thought control experiments, ones that involved sweaty nakedness rather than a passive populace. Weren't the Americans working on a gay spray or something, anyway? Something to undermine enemy troop morale?
Connor would be fucking brilliant at that.
But then she seemed to come to a conclusion, looking away from him and over to Cutter. "I don't see why not. He's certainly not dangerous, not in the conventional sense of the word. But I'll expect to be notified if anything unusual happens." Unusual like Abby actually fancying him back, or Stephen noticing him, or him actually getting laid for the first time ever. By people who wouldn't even look at him once under normal circumstances. Those would count, but he held his tongue, beyond even simple humiliation now, his misery complete.
God, he had nowhere else to go but Abby's and she wasn't going to want to see him. For a second he actually toyed with the idea of asking Cutter if he could stay with him - just for a few days, just until Abby stopped hating his guts completely, because she would hate his guts, she'd have to - but the memory of Cutter's confused face, the way that Cutter had carefully not got to close to him since this whole thing had come to light stopped the words in their tracks.
"Fine," Cutter said finally. "Connor..."
He had nowhere else to go, and if Abby ended up hating his guts it wasn't anything less than he deserved. It would be a penance of sorts, at least.
-o-
He managed to avoid Abby more or less completely for the next couple of days, which was easier than it should have been given that they were sharing the same living space. All he had to do was stay in his room and only venture out whenever he heard her bedroom door shut, with Abby safely on the other side of it.
But that couldn't go on forever. Eventually he was going to have to face her - apart from anything else, sooner or later they'd end up at an anomaly site together, provided Lester or Cutter didn't decide he was more trouble than he was worth before then and kick him off the team entirely. Again.
Apparently Abby was of the same mind, because after two or three days of awkward silence whenever they did see each other - he'd lost track of time in his misery, although every aching look of Abby's, awkward and pale, was burned into his memory as much as the look on her face as she came - she knocked softly at his bedroom door. "Connor?"
He could ignore her, pretend he was asleep, and it was really tempting to do that, pull the covers over his head and shut out the world for a while, but he'd already been doing that, hadn't he? So instead he pushed himself up and padded over to the door, his feet dragging on the carpet. Abby managed to knock twice more before he finally reached it.
"Connor? Oh. There you are."
He couldn't even try for a smile, not when the dread at her expected reaction was weighing him down. "I'm sorry," he said, getting it out before she could say anything else, get any accusations or recriminations out. He figured she was entitled to that much, at least, but still. Best to let her know upfront just how fucking awful he felt about it.
"Oh... okay." She blinked at him before her gaze slid away awkwardly. "Me, too."
"Wait, why are you... I mean."
"Well, you know..." He didn't. He really didn't. "Look, Connor... Can I come in and talk to you for a while?"
He hesitated for a long moment - he'd fucked Abby in his bed, as well as in hers, and sometimes he thought the scent of her still lingered on his sheets, reminding him of everything he'd had and everything he shouldn't have had. Ever.
Maybe some of that showed on his face because she turned her head away, just for a second, and when she looked back there was something missing from her expression, some faint trace of vitality that was just gone. "Okay," she said gently. "Why don't you come out to the lounge, at least?" She tried - and failed - for a smile. "Neutral territory?"
He'd fucked her on the sofa as well, more than once, but at least he didn't have to sleep there any longer, not now he had his own room. "Okay." He nodded once, like that was going to make everything all right. "Okay."
She didn't sit next to him on the sofa - he couldn't figure out whether that was because she remembered everything they'd done on it, too, or whether it was because sitting in the armchair instead meant she could look at him.
"Look, Connor -"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Abby. I mean, I had no idea that... I should have done... I..."
She simply looked at him, her brow furrowed. "It wasn't your fault, Connor," she said slowly and he couldn't tell whether she meant it or not. "I mean, it wasn't anyone's fault, really, just..." Her smile this time was strained. "Well, it's just a little embarrassing. I've... there were things I've not done before, and..."
"Tell me about it," he muttered, and this time the small smile she gave him was more genuine. "I mean, there was a lot I hadn't..."
"Yeah. I kind of figured when Stephen... that that might have been..." She stopped talking, a flush rising to her face and staining her cheeks pink as she cleared her throat. "That..."
"Yeah." He cleared his own throat uncomfortably. "That." And the rest.
It was only when she looked back at him, a small crease in her forehead, between her eyes, that he realised he might have said that last bit out loud as well. Possibly. But she didn't say anything, not about that anyway. Instead she said, "I talked to Stephen."
Of course she had. It was Stephen she fancied. Stephen she'd always fancied. Now that they'd... even if it was because of Connor... He supposed there was nothing stopping them.
And the thought of it, Abby with Stephen and Stephen with Abby - without him... It set the misery rising up in him, closing his throat until he thought he'd choke with it.
"Oh. Right." He nodded jerkily, feeling his eyes burn. "And Stephen... really hates me right now, right?"
Her brow furrowed further. "Of course he doesn't, Connor. He's just... Well, we've both been worried about you." That warmed him a little, easing some of the crushing weight on his chest. It meant that even if they didn't... even if they didn't care like that, they cared on some level, right? "You've... you've been avoiding us."
"I thought you'd hate me."
She stared at him for a long moment and then her face cleared. "You know, Connor, sometimes you can be a right idiot."
Oh. Oh, thank God.
His eyes squeezed closed in sheer relief. "And Stephen doesn't hate me either?"
"You can ask him yourself," she snorted, relaxing back into the chair cushions. "He's on his way over." She eyed him for a long moment, long enough for the tension to start rising up in him again, and then she said, "We talked about a lot of things, me and Stephen. It... wasn't easy, not at first, you know?"
"Well..."
"Well, you would have known if you hadn't been avoiding us." She gave him a searching look, her cheeks still pink. But her eyes were brighter now, at least. "We... um... Well, we need to talk to you as well."
"About what?"
"Connor..." She trailed off, leaning forward in her seat, and he found himself mirroring her movement. "Stephen and I agree that..." His heart sank again but he tried to find a smile for her sake. "Look, we... this whole thing is weird."
"Yes." He nodded jerkily. "I know, and I'm sorry, and if you want me to move out of the flat I'll go. I'm not sure where, but that's my problem, you know, and not yours, and -"
"Connor," she interrupted. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about?"
"This. The anomalies. Prehistoric creatures in the present day. The fact that we - we - have to, I don't know, try and save the world or something. You don't think that's a little bit weird?"
"Oh, that. I thought you meant..." He waved his hand around vaguely and Abby flushed again.
"Okay," she said, and there was a hint of laughter in her voice, just enough to raise Connor's spirits slightly. "That was a little weird." A little? "But I suppose what I'm saying is... there are worse kind of weirds that could have happened. And... this wasn't the worst kind of weird. By a long way." She smiled at him and underneath the shape of that smile he thought he caught a glimpse of the wicked little grin he'd seen before.
He let out a breath. "Okay," he said. "Yeah, I can see that, and..." His turn to run out of words to say, but Abby seemed to get it anyway and nodded, her eyes not leaving his face.
"Stephen..." She took a deep breath, pursing her lips and then huffing it out again. "Stephen and I," she corrected, and then hesitated, just for a moment, before saying, firmly, "we decided we didn't mind that kind of weird." He blinked at her. "If you didn't mind that kind of weird." Her hands were shaking, just a little, and she clasped them together in her lap to steady them. "Because..."
He was hoping. He shouldn't be hoping, shouldn't be hopeful, because... It sounded almost like maybe Abby and Stephen not only didn't hate him but... "There are worse kinds of weird?"
"Yeah." And then her smile turned wistful. "And this... Everything we do... It sort of puts a perspective on weird, you know? And..."
"And?"
"And it's not like you and Stephen are exactly hard to look at." The words came out in a rush, her voice shaking with a nervous sort of laughter, and he felt the blood surging into his face, burning. But her eyes were kind and he gave her a weak smile.
"Wouldn't kick either of us out of bed, then?"
"No," she said softly. "Probably not." And then she pinked up herself.
She looked like she might have said more but then the doorbell rang and she glanced over towards the stairs before looking back at him. "That will be Stephen," she said. "Should I let him in?" He hesitated again, not quite able to believe that this was happening. Not quite able to believe that this could happen. "I told him I'd only let him in if you think it's a good idea. Do you?"
He took a deep breath.
"I think it's the best idea ever," he said.
The End
Author: alyse
Fandom: Primeval
Pairings: Abby/Connor, Connor/Stephen, Abby/Connor/Stephen
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Set in vague series 1. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.
Word Count: ~13,700.
Status: Complete
Author's Notes: Written for the Primeval Ficathon for
beren_writes, for prompt #1: aphrodisiac pollen or aphrodisiac insect bites or anything that makes them frisky :) and who also wanted a threesome.( Connor Temple, Sex God - Part One of Two )
-o-
The doorbell roused him from the bed, where they'd eventually settled. Abby was still asleep, tangled in the covers, and he took a second to slide his hand over the smooth, golden curve of her head before he staggered towards the door, cursing postmen or delivery men or Mrs Hodgson next door complaining about the noise again, whoever it was who had dragged him out of bed at this ungodly hour...
...of 11 am, actually, judging by the clock that hung over the kitchen counter. Huh.
He scratched absently at his chest, his skin prickling in a way that told him it must be allergy season again. Joy. But when he finally pulled open the door, blinking blearily at the person standing on the doorstep, it wasn't the postman and it wasn't Mrs Hodgson.
It was Stephen. Stephen who stared back at him for long moments before pushing past him and walking up the stairs into the flat like he belonged there.
"You busy?" Stephen asked, just as he had the day before and, just like the day before, Connor blinked at him.
"Um." Well, this was awkward. The faint stirrings of guilt fluttered in his stomach and it was weird to be feeling them now. "I was... um..."
"Busy." He flinched when Abby's voice came from behind him, hard as steel. As hard as Abby could be sometimes, and now the guilt wasn't just a fluttering, but pretty much a herd of something stampeding through his midsection.
"Oh," said Stephen, and his voice was hard as well. There was a glint of something in his eye that made Connor swallow, caught on the cusp of fear and desire. "With you, I take it."
It was like being at a tennis match, where the chances were that the balls about to be lobbed would be his. His gaze darted between them, back and forth. First Abby, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, her arms folded and her hip cocked, attitude in every line of her body. And then Stephen, loose limbed and relaxed, at least until you caught sight of the tension around his eyes, the tightening of his mouth.
"Yes," said Abby, and smiled sweetly. Fifteen to love.
Stephen smirked but there was no amusement in it, just a predatory kind of hunger that caught Connor's attention and held it. He was so dead. They would both kill him and then probably play football with his head or something. Still. He supposed it was something they could bond over.
"Well, it's only fair, I suppose," said Stephen, and the smile that crossed his face was hard, measured. "He was... busy with me yesterday." Fifteen all.
"That's nice," said Abby. "I'm glad he could spare you some time out of his busy schedule." Ouch. That had to be a foul ball.
Stephen's mouth twitched. "Well, I suppose there's only one thing we can do." Oh, please God, don't let them actually come to blows. That would be more guilt than he could handle. Admittedly, he had occasionally thought of Abby in that way, but in his fantasies it hadn't been so much fighting as wrestling, and it hadn't been with Stephen. Not unless Stephen wore a bikini and mud was involved.
"I'm listening," Abby said but her stance was still confrontational, which meant that Connor's safety was probably compromised and even if she didn't kill him she'd never forgive him. The thought made him more miserable than he'd thought possible, and it wasn't just because it meant no more sex.
In fact, the thought of them fighting - over him, of all people - made him just as miserable.
He opened his mouth to say something - anything - but he had no idea what. No idea what words could possibly make this all right, and what had he been thinking? He certainly hadn't been using his brain, at least not his big one, that much was clear.
But then Stephen's mouth twitched again, turning up a little at one corner, and Connor froze, the not-words trapped inside him as he was transfixed by the sight. Although these days the sight of Stephen's mouth caught hold of his attention even at the best of times.
"How about this?" Stephen asked before taking the whole two steps necessary to reach Connor. One broad hand wrapped around the back of his neck, Stephen's thumb resting on the pulse point, and then Stephen turned Connor's head towards him, moving in slowly, his eyes not leaving Abby until his lips met Connor's. Then and only then did Connor get his full attention. His full and slow attention, those lips moving over Connor's deliberately, not a millimetre of Connor's mouth left unexplored.
Oh, God. Maybe death was worth it.
When Stephen pulled back he left his hand on the back of Connor's neck, a warm, heavy weight against Connor's skin. But Stephen wasn't looking at him now - his gaze was locked with Abby's and Connor couldn't tell what was going on between them, not this time. Not ever. But then Stephen's hand put just enough subtle pressure on the back Connor's neck to guide his face in Abby's direction, for Connor to meet Abby's eyes himself as her gaze darted between them, both confusion and a now familiar desire written in her face.
Stephen's hand finally moved, sliding down his back to give him a gentle shove - gentle for Stephen, which meant it was enough to have Connor staggering forward a few steps towards Abby. He glanced back at Stephen, now thoroughly confused, but when he looked back at Abby the frown on her face wasn't angry or even puzzled. It was thoughtful, considering. She held Stephen's gaze for a long moment and then huffed out an impatient breath, closing the gap between herself and Connor to drag him into a heated kiss. If it lacked Stephen's thoroughness it more than made up for it in pure storm and fury, the kind of kiss that stripped away all of Connor's defences and left him panting and horny as hell.
Abby finally let go of him and he staggered a few steps, back towards Stephen. Abby folded her arms again, giving Stephen a narrow eyed look over the top of them. "Are you suggesting we share?"
What?
"Yes," said Stephen. "It seems the fairest thing."
Wait. What?
"What? Like a timeshare?" There was a bite to Abby's voice but it didn't seem to faze Stephen. Instead his mouth twitched again, that quiet amusement that Connor found so devastatingly attractive, at least now he knew what Stephen's mouth was capable of.
Stephen didn't answer her straight away - or maybe he did, but in Stephen's quiet but effective 'make a point' way. He took another two steps, longer strides this time that carried him past Connor and all the way to Abby. And then his hand settled on the back of Abby's neck, sliding up into her hair and tilting her head back.
Oh.
Oh. Wow. Stephen really did kiss thoroughly, didn't he? It was almost as hot from the outside as it was being on the receiving end. Almost.
When Stephen pulled back, Abby rocked on her feet, blinking rapidly. Her sheet had slipped, the soft curve of her breast rising above the fabric, doing interesting things as she breathed in and out rapidly. "Oh," she said and Connor quite agreed with that sentiment. "So we share?"
Stephen nodded and Abby met his eyes, a moment of perfect understanding seeming to pass between. Connor gaped at them, still not quite following the conversation until they both turned to look at him, Abby's look considering and Stephen's just hungry.
Oh.
Oh!
Best. Idea. Ever!
-o-
If Abby was beautiful - and she was - then Abby and Stephen together were just spectacular. Stephen's hands skimmed her body, seeking out and touching places that Connor would never have dreamt of touching. Well, okay, maybe in those really dirty dreams, the ones where he woke up sweating and with a hard on that only took two or three strokes to bring him off. And if he thought watching his cock sliding in and out of Abby was hot, that was nothing to watching when it was Stephen's cock, especially when Stephen reached over and caught hold of his hand, pulling his fingers towards Abby until they pressed against her skin, right in front of where Stephen's cock was still sliding in and out of her.
"There," Stephen said, and his voice was rough with need. "Stroke her there." He did exactly as he was told and Abby bucked against him with a soft cry, her fingers clutching convulsively against his shoulders. He leant down and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth as his fingers slipped in her wetness. Maybe he should use his tongue down there instead of his fingers, taste both Abby and Stephen together, but there was something he wanted to do first. He curled two of his fingers, pushing them slowly into Abby and feeling Stephen's cock press against the back of his knuckles.
It took Abby apart, her body shaking as she let out a sharp cry, riding the crest of another orgasm. She was so fucking hot. They both were, but Abby, with her face contorted like that and her fingers scratching at his skin where she could reach... He could ignore that digging pain if it meant watching this.
Stephen eased out of her, still hard, and Connor's fingers slid out with him. He stared down into Abby's gorgeous, flushed face, as Stephen said, "Your turn."
God, yes. And Stephen must have been equally impatient because he reached over and caught hold of Connor's hip, tugging him closer to Abby until Connor moved of his own volition, sliding into Abby's wet heat.
Oh, God, yes. This was never going to be anything but fantastic. He started to move, so lost in sensation that he barely registered Stephen rolling away for a second. Abby moved with him, her arms wound around his shoulders and her mouth pressed against his cheek, soft sighs escaping her with every thrust.
Then Stephen was back, stroking his fingers along the length of Abby's flank, tracing over the sweet curve of her hip. And then his fingers moved further back, skimming over the soft swell of her backside and then pausing for a moment.
Abby turned her head to look at him, Stephen's eyes searching her face. When Connor slowed, however, Abby turned her attention back to him, her small hands gripping the cheeks of his arse and pulling him deeper into her. "Yes," she said, the sound escaping as a gasp, but whether she was talking to him or Stephen, Connor couldn't tell.
Stephen seemed to take it as permission for whatever he was planning because he squeezed some gel onto his fingers. When Connor slowed again to watch him, Abby registered her displeasure by sinking her short nails into his backside, letting out another soft cry of pleasure when he instinctively jerked away from the pressure, pushing more deeply into her.
Then Stephen's fingers were back, sliding down the crease of Abby's arse and then deeper, pushing into her. Wait. You could do that? With girls.
Stephen looked up and met his eyes with a small grin. "Front or back?" he asked and Abby's body clenched tightly around Connor as she shuddered, whatever Stephen's fingers were doing working.
"Back," he stuttered and Stephen gave him another grin, leaning over Abby's shoulders to kiss him thoroughly.
"Okay. This time. My turn next." Stephen pulled back and looked at him, one eyebrow raised and that small smirk still playing around the corner of his mouth and, oh. Right. Okay, then.
"Here," Stephen murmured, his attention focused on what he was doing. He slid his finger out and squirted more gel onto his fingertips. This time he slid two fingers back into Abby, and once again she shuddered, her body tightening around Connor's in a way that felt absolutely perfect. "Just let me get her loose for you."
Connor swallowed. This time when he stopped moving, his cock still buried in Abby, she didn't protest. Instead she shuddered again, her body rocking gently back and forth, pressing into whatever Stephen's fingers were doing to her. And each time she rocked forward, Connor's cock slid a little deeper into her.
"There," said Stephen, pulling his fingers out and wiping them off with a wet wipe. It made Connor wonder what the hell else Abby was keeping in that bedside drawer of hers. Maybe he'd look - later. "Let me... Come here."
He let Stephen take the lead, positioning himself where Stephen showed him, and it was Stephen's fingers that caught hold of his cock, guiding it until it pressed against Abby's entrance. "Go slowly at first, okay?"
"Okay." He was breathless, his heart racing in anticipation as he pushed forward. His cock slipped the first time, sliding away in whatever lubricant Stephen had spread down there, but then Stephen's fingers came back, more firmly this time, and he got the angle right. There was pressure at first as Abby's body resisted but, when he pushed a little more firmly, concerned about hurting her, the entrance to her body finally gave way and he pushed a little inside.
God. She was so tight there. So much tighter than... He wasn't going to be able to last long.
"A little deeper, okay?" Stephen murmured in his ear, and it was the feel of Stephen's hot breath against his skin as much as the tight heat of Abby's body that sent a shiver through him. "That's it."
Abby gasped and he hesitated, wondering if he was getting it all wrong, but then she pushed back against him and he slid in a little deeper, a gasp escaping his own throat. "Okay," Stephen breathed, his voice tense with need. "Stay still for a bit. Just until I..."
He didn't say any more but then Stephen had always been more about action than talking. He was earning that reputation now, moving smoothly over Connor and Abby both until he was on the other side of her, his cock hard and lovely.
"Ready," he asked, and Connor had no idea which of them the question was aimed at; Stephen's look took them both in. He nodded anyway and Abby didn't need to answer, not when her greedy hands were already pulling Stephen down to her, her fingers buried in his short hair as she slanted her mouth over his.
And then Stephen's cock was pushing into her. Connor could feel it, feel it sliding along the length of his, only Abby's skin separating the pair of them, and he pressed his face into Abby's hair, desperately trying not to come. Not yet.
Abby didn't have any such need for restraint and she cried out, her body shaking again at the sensations that had her in their grasp. Her fingers clutched desperately at Stephen, then one hand flailed backwards, seizing hold of Connor's hip, pulling him to her.
"Connor," said Stephen, and even in the midst of the tension and need there was a smile buried in his voice. "Move."
Oh, God. He pulled out, just a little, more concerned now with not embarrassing himself by coming too soon than worry about Abby, not when Abby was letting out these sounds, high pitched little mewls like she was completely lost in the pleasure of it all, reduced to animal instinct. When he pushed back in again she let out another sharp cry, her body jerking and her fingers scratching at his skin. He'd have marks tomorrow, maybe even the rest of the week.
Stephen was moving as well, matching his rhythm to Connor's, and Abby cried out again, completely lost, like she'd started coming but wasn't stopping, each move they made simply taking her higher and higher. He closed his eyes, no longer worried about Abby or about Stephen, and just let go, short, blunt jabs into her until his balls finally tightened and he came, muffling the sounds he was making - the ones that weren't already drowned out by Abby - against her skin.
This time Stephen seemed to have come, too, and he reached across Abby, catching hold of the back of Connor's neck to pull him into a fierce, needy kiss. Connor lost himself in it, in the feel of Stephen's tongue in his mouth, and his cock slid out of Abby's body, Abby rolling onto her back with another soft, satisfied sigh. When he opened his eyes, Stephen's tongue still tracing the contours of his mouth, Abby was looking up at them, her eyes soft, still blurred with pleasure.
"Your turn," Stephen murmured and, oh. Yes. He wanted that, now, what Abby had experienced and when Abby shuffled awkwardly to one side he settled himself on the bed on his front. The sheets were still warm from Abby's body, damp from her sweat, and they smelled like her. He closed his eyes and breathed that scent in as Stephen's fingers began to trace over his skin, small, concentric circles that dipped lower and lower.
And that was how Connor lost his virginity for the third and final time. But then, they did say practice made perfect.
-o-
Connor would probably have been bouncing the next day if he'd managed to get some sleep. As it was, the days of debauchery were starting to catch up with him. He felt gritty and tired, and his body ached in new and interesting ways, with new and interesting bruises. It didn't help that his allergy rash was still itching, the skin rising in welts whenever he gave in and scratched it.
Which probably meant that he should stop scratching, or at least find the nearest chemist and stock up on antihistamines, having exhausted last summer's supply. Maybe stock up on a lot of antihistamines - he hadn't had this kind of reaction to pollen since he was a kid, which didn't bode well for his summer. But at least he was still running on an adrenaline high, the endorphins racing through his body being just enough to mask the worst of the stiffness and let him deal with the lingering itchiness.
He scratched absently at his wrist as he stared up at the Home Office building where he was meeting Cutter in Lester's office. Something about those pictures and needing Connor's input. It put a bounce back in his step, the idea that Cutter would need his input, or at least the input from his creature database, giving him a lovely warm glow even though he knew - on some level at least - that it was kind of stupid to feel that way when he should be all professional about it or something.
Connor Temple, Professional Creature Hunter.
That put a grin on his face, and if he didn't bounce up the steps to the building at least his legs didn't cave way underneath him entirely.
Cutter wasn't there yet and he hovered outside Lester's office for a while, eyeing a couple of suits stalking past him - grim faced with purpose, even on a Saturday - and probably looking as out of place as he felt.
"For God's sake, come in, Temple." There was no mistaking Lester's dulcet tones and Connor jumped, spinning round on his heels and staggering a little when his stiff muscles let him down. Lester was standing in the entrance to his office, arms folded superciliously across his chest and eyeing Connor like he was something particularly unpleasant that the cat had dragged in. When Connor straightened up, pulling the strap of his laptop bag so that it settled on his shoulder more securely, Lester rolled his eyes. "You're making the building look untidy," he said, the words sliding out in a sea of sarcasm, the way that only Lester seemed to be able to manage. "And I'd rather you didn't loiter in a way that suggests you have anything to do with me. At least, not where people can actually see you."
That was probably what passed for an invitation in Lester's world, especially given that he left the door of his office open when he stalked back inside. After a moment, Connor sighed and followed him, feet dragging on the floor. Please, God, let Cutter get there soon. He had no idea what to say to Lester at the best of times let alone when he was aching and sore and probably still - even after a shower - smelling like sex.
"Professor Cutter has informed me that he will be late," Lester said, settling back down into his chair and giving his attention to the papers that were neatly aligned in piles on his desk. They certainly seemed more interesting to Lester than Connor could ever be. "I don't know how long he'll be so take a seat, sit still, and try not to make any noise."
It was like being back in the Headmaster's office at school, that sinking feeling of dread even though you knew you'd done nothing wrong. Well, nothing you could remember but every vague possibility flitted through your mind anyway, leaving you squirming uncomfortably. Only if Lester was a Headmaster, he'd be at one of those posh, independent schools where all the boys went by their first names and did inappropriate things in the shower or something.
Like he and Abby had this morning, while Stephen watched.
He finally settled on a leather chair next to the small meeting table in one corner of the office. Typically, it creaked as he sat down and he paused, mid sitting, to glance apologetically at Lester.
"Sorry," he mouthed, settling all the way down with a soft, accompanying squeak.
Lester glared at him and that was definitely a Headmaster level of disapproval. Maybe even more than that, and Connor swallowed, trying to make himself seem as small as possible.
"I'd offer you some tea or coffee," said Lester, looking back at his paperwork and seeming to dismiss Connor even from his most temporary of thoughts, "but my secretary is on holiday." Connor wondered if that was a hint that he should maybe go and do something, not that he'd have the faintest idea of what and somehow the idea that Lester would drink instant coffee was ludicrous. "Besides, you might actually get the idea that you were welcome here."
Probably best just to stay exactly where he was - and as mute as he was - and hope that if he didn't make any sudden moves, Lester wouldn't see him. Sort of like T. rex in Jurassic Park. It was a thought, at least, and it couldn't do any harm, right?
Lester pushed himself up from his chair with a barely concealed snort, glancing over at Connor with something that looked like irritation and Connor froze, wondering what he'd done wrong now. But all Lester did was sigh, the sound heavy with the weight of the world - or maybe just the weight of disapproval. Then Lester's attention turned away from him towards the glass fronted cabinet, filled with neatly labelled lever arch files, that adorned the far wall of Lester's office opposite his desk.
Right next to Connor. Maybe he should offer to fetch one or something; in fact, he half expected Lester to snap the word out anyway, a brisk, barked 'fetch' that would pretty much cement Connor's place in the world, only Lester probably rated dogs a heck of a lot higher than Connor. Instead, Lester stalked towards him and Connor leant out of the way, still making himself as small as possible. Lester huffed a sigh out and then stopped, hesitating by Connor's chair and staring down at him with a slightly perplexed expression.
Connor's wrist itched again and he was already pushing his sleeve up to scratch it when Lester leant in closer.
"You... don't actually smell terrible."
What? Connor stared up at him, completely and utterly thrown. Lester's eyes narrowed fractionally, and then the man leant down, moving closer, getting in Connor's personal space and Lester's eyes were almost green this close, and...
And his wrist was really itching. Connor tore his eyes away from Lester, his fingernails digging into the skin and leaving raised, red welts behind. What...?
Oh, God. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong because Lester - Lester of all people! - should not be hitting on him.
Lester's hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he twitched, eyes darting back up towards Lester's face, mesmerised like a deer in headlights. He shouldn't... There was something...
"Connor?"
Cutter's voice sounded from the doorway and Connor snapped back to himself, lurching away from Lester and the hold Lester had on him, at least mentally if not physically, not now there was some distance between them.
Lester blinked, eyes darting between Connor and Cutter, confusion still marring their depths. And then he harrumphed, fingers flying to the cuffs of his shirt, straightening them meticulously as he bought himself some time to think.
"Would anyone like to explain to me what is going on?" he asked crisply, hands moving to his tie.
"Connor?"
Oh, God. He had no idea, none at all, except -
"Something's really, really wrong, Professor."
That much he was sure of.
-o-
It was mortifying, sitting in the small lab down in the basement, being prodded and poked and generally stared at. More than mortifying, and Connor wanted to do nothing so much as curl up into a small, whimpering ball in one corner and rock for a while.
Lester had dragged some Government doctor in from who knew where. A female doctor, and that somehow made the crawling shame even worse. She was brisk and efficient as she shone lights into his eyes and tested his reflexes, but her face gave nothing away. Not that Connor would have been able to read her expression even if she'd had the most mobile of faces, given that most of it was hidden by a white mask.
Lester thought it had something to do with smell, which made sense given how the common theme running through everything that had happened over the last few days appeared to be how good he smelt. At least, that was the common theme now that he could look back on it all and the pieces dropped into place one by one, each one hitting with a hollow clang that he felt in the pit of his stomach. The doctor, however - and he hadn't caught her name, too wrapped up in disbelief and nausea to be listening closely - seemed more interested in the rash running up his arm and blooming across his chest. And in the small bruises and abrasions on his body left by Stephen and Abby - both the marks he remembered and the ones he didn't. This one left by Stephen's fingers, that one left by Abby's sucking mouth.
They were never, ever going to forgive him for this; he wouldn't blame them.
He wished the doctor had left him his clothes at least - more of them anyway than his boxers, which was all she had left him. But once he'd stripped down to that, she'd had them bundled up and carted off somewhere to be tested for who knew what. He couldn't see what good that would do - he'd changed his clothes at least three, maybe four times since Monday? Possibly even more. It wasn't something he'd paid much attention to, not when he'd spent as much time out of his clothes as in them over the last few days.
The shame rose again, staining his cheeks and chest, and it only made his skin itch even more. "Don't scratch," the doctor snapped, not even looking in his direction, and his fingers dropped down to his side, curling helplessly against the paper underneath him. She busied herself with preparing another swab, although surely by now there was nowhere else on his body that she could swipe it over, at least not that she hadn't done at least once. She'd already taken samples from his skin and his mouth, underneath his eyes. Even his nasal and ear passages.
She turned towards him, brisk impersonality in every line of her body.
"I need you to remove the rest of your clothing now."
Oh, God. And he'd thought it couldn't get worse.
-o-
"Pollen?"
Cutter's voice was incredulous and Connor couldn't blame him for that one. The doctor - Saunders, Lester had called her, and it suited her down to her short, greying hair; the hard, uncompromising lines of her face - merely raised one eyebrow.
"Certainly the pollen samples we retrieved from the last anomaly site match the chemical traces we found on Temple's skin."
"You're trying to tell me that... that Connor was somehow contaminated by pollen coming through the anomaly?"
Saunders snorted, and that sound alone would have told Connor that she was from Lester's school of thought when it came to their little team. "That's the most reasonable explanation we have at this time. It's certainly not from any species that's native to this country, nor can the botany bods match it to any known species - in this time or in any other that we're aware of." She shrugged. "Of course, you'd probably be the first to tell me how the fossil record is incomplete, but there's no doubt that the pollen came through the anomaly."
"We've cordoned off the site," Lester interjected smoothly, "The area doesn't exactly have a heavy traffic anyway, and the Met Office tell me that the wind was remarkably cooperative in terms of dispersal, so we don't need to be concerned about random orgies breaking out in the vicinity. That, at least, is one small mercy to be grateful for." His tone managed to convey a complete disinterest in the whole discussion and of course he wouldn't be interested. Connor had figured out something was wrong before Lester had had a chance to completely and utterly humiliate himself. Some small, petty part of him was almost sorry about it. Maybe Lester would be a little more sympathetic to his plight if Cutter had waited for a few more minutes and found Lester on his knees on the carpet, Connor's dick buried halfway down his throat. But then the shame hit again - he wouldn't wish that even on Lester, let alone...
Abby and Stephen were never going to forgive him. How could they when he couldn't forgive himself?
"Why Connor?" Cutter had to ask, and Connor scrunched his eyes shut, another wave of humiliation crashing over him.
"My understanding is that Connor is the only member of your team with a noticeable hay fever allergy. I suspect that has something to do with it."
How fucking convenient, and what would be even more convenient would the floor opening right about now and swallowing him whole.
He shouldn't think about swallowing because he was pretty sure that the doctor's throat swabs would have picked up more than pollen traces given his activities over the last few days and what if she said something about that and, oh, God, could he just die now? Please?
"But... you think it's worn off now?" Poor Cutter. This was throwing even him, probably because he was remembering that brief moment when even he'd wanted to jump Connor's bones and wondering how the hell he'd missed that there was something off. Of course, Connor had missed it, stupid bastard that he was - he'd actually believed, for several days, that people wanted him. How fucking stupid was he?
Really fucking stupid, that was what.
"We're satisfied that whatever chemical reaction the pollen caused in Temple's body has ceased. Certainly the most recent samples show minimal traces, and it's decreasing exponentially." Cutter didn't look convinced and that hurt, more than Connor thought it would.
"If you're that concerned," Lester said, his fingers back to straightening his cuffs the way he did whenever he was about to say something devastating, "perhaps you might like to sniff Connor so that we can gauge the effect, make sure that there's no longer anything to worry about."
It was amazing how much noise one chair could make when it skidded across the floor, and another wave of shame surged over him, burning his face and tightening in his chest, when he realised that they were all staring at him and it was his chair and his noise. "Don't," he said, and his voice came out thready. "Please."
"Connor..." Cutter's voice trailed off, the man at a loss for once.
"If it's any consolation," Lester murmured, "I can honestly say that I certainly have no desire to spend any more time in Mr Temple's no doubt normally devastating company. Perhaps that should count for something."
"Lester," Cutter snapped but any words after that seemed to fail him. He settled for glaring at Lester instead, as though Lester was going to pay that any mind. Connor was just glad Cutter wasn't looking at him any more.
"Can I go home now?" he asked, and his voice still came out too quiet, faltering off into silence when he caught their attention again.
Cutter's face softened slightly, and that hurt, too, the idea that Cutter might forgive him. But then it was easy for Cutter, wasn't it? Not like...
Cutter glanced over at Saunders but she wasn't looking at him. Instead she was eyeing Connor like he was a particularly interesting specimen, and the cold fear gripped him that maybe she'd say no. Maybe Duncan and Tom hadn't been wrong about Government conspiracies and he was doomed to spend the rest of his life in a lab, just another subject for their thought control experiments, ones that involved sweaty nakedness rather than a passive populace. Weren't the Americans working on a gay spray or something, anyway? Something to undermine enemy troop morale?
Connor would be fucking brilliant at that.
But then she seemed to come to a conclusion, looking away from him and over to Cutter. "I don't see why not. He's certainly not dangerous, not in the conventional sense of the word. But I'll expect to be notified if anything unusual happens." Unusual like Abby actually fancying him back, or Stephen noticing him, or him actually getting laid for the first time ever. By people who wouldn't even look at him once under normal circumstances. Those would count, but he held his tongue, beyond even simple humiliation now, his misery complete.
God, he had nowhere else to go but Abby's and she wasn't going to want to see him. For a second he actually toyed with the idea of asking Cutter if he could stay with him - just for a few days, just until Abby stopped hating his guts completely, because she would hate his guts, she'd have to - but the memory of Cutter's confused face, the way that Cutter had carefully not got to close to him since this whole thing had come to light stopped the words in their tracks.
"Fine," Cutter said finally. "Connor..."
He had nowhere else to go, and if Abby ended up hating his guts it wasn't anything less than he deserved. It would be a penance of sorts, at least.
-o-
He managed to avoid Abby more or less completely for the next couple of days, which was easier than it should have been given that they were sharing the same living space. All he had to do was stay in his room and only venture out whenever he heard her bedroom door shut, with Abby safely on the other side of it.
But that couldn't go on forever. Eventually he was going to have to face her - apart from anything else, sooner or later they'd end up at an anomaly site together, provided Lester or Cutter didn't decide he was more trouble than he was worth before then and kick him off the team entirely. Again.
Apparently Abby was of the same mind, because after two or three days of awkward silence whenever they did see each other - he'd lost track of time in his misery, although every aching look of Abby's, awkward and pale, was burned into his memory as much as the look on her face as she came - she knocked softly at his bedroom door. "Connor?"
He could ignore her, pretend he was asleep, and it was really tempting to do that, pull the covers over his head and shut out the world for a while, but he'd already been doing that, hadn't he? So instead he pushed himself up and padded over to the door, his feet dragging on the carpet. Abby managed to knock twice more before he finally reached it.
"Connor? Oh. There you are."
He couldn't even try for a smile, not when the dread at her expected reaction was weighing him down. "I'm sorry," he said, getting it out before she could say anything else, get any accusations or recriminations out. He figured she was entitled to that much, at least, but still. Best to let her know upfront just how fucking awful he felt about it.
"Oh... okay." She blinked at him before her gaze slid away awkwardly. "Me, too."
"Wait, why are you... I mean."
"Well, you know..." He didn't. He really didn't. "Look, Connor... Can I come in and talk to you for a while?"
He hesitated for a long moment - he'd fucked Abby in his bed, as well as in hers, and sometimes he thought the scent of her still lingered on his sheets, reminding him of everything he'd had and everything he shouldn't have had. Ever.
Maybe some of that showed on his face because she turned her head away, just for a second, and when she looked back there was something missing from her expression, some faint trace of vitality that was just gone. "Okay," she said gently. "Why don't you come out to the lounge, at least?" She tried - and failed - for a smile. "Neutral territory?"
He'd fucked her on the sofa as well, more than once, but at least he didn't have to sleep there any longer, not now he had his own room. "Okay." He nodded once, like that was going to make everything all right. "Okay."
She didn't sit next to him on the sofa - he couldn't figure out whether that was because she remembered everything they'd done on it, too, or whether it was because sitting in the armchair instead meant she could look at him.
"Look, Connor -"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Abby. I mean, I had no idea that... I should have done... I..."
She simply looked at him, her brow furrowed. "It wasn't your fault, Connor," she said slowly and he couldn't tell whether she meant it or not. "I mean, it wasn't anyone's fault, really, just..." Her smile this time was strained. "Well, it's just a little embarrassing. I've... there were things I've not done before, and..."
"Tell me about it," he muttered, and this time the small smile she gave him was more genuine. "I mean, there was a lot I hadn't..."
"Yeah. I kind of figured when Stephen... that that might have been..." She stopped talking, a flush rising to her face and staining her cheeks pink as she cleared her throat. "That..."
"Yeah." He cleared his own throat uncomfortably. "That." And the rest.
It was only when she looked back at him, a small crease in her forehead, between her eyes, that he realised he might have said that last bit out loud as well. Possibly. But she didn't say anything, not about that anyway. Instead she said, "I talked to Stephen."
Of course she had. It was Stephen she fancied. Stephen she'd always fancied. Now that they'd... even if it was because of Connor... He supposed there was nothing stopping them.
And the thought of it, Abby with Stephen and Stephen with Abby - without him... It set the misery rising up in him, closing his throat until he thought he'd choke with it.
"Oh. Right." He nodded jerkily, feeling his eyes burn. "And Stephen... really hates me right now, right?"
Her brow furrowed further. "Of course he doesn't, Connor. He's just... Well, we've both been worried about you." That warmed him a little, easing some of the crushing weight on his chest. It meant that even if they didn't... even if they didn't care like that, they cared on some level, right? "You've... you've been avoiding us."
"I thought you'd hate me."
She stared at him for a long moment and then her face cleared. "You know, Connor, sometimes you can be a right idiot."
Oh. Oh, thank God.
His eyes squeezed closed in sheer relief. "And Stephen doesn't hate me either?"
"You can ask him yourself," she snorted, relaxing back into the chair cushions. "He's on his way over." She eyed him for a long moment, long enough for the tension to start rising up in him again, and then she said, "We talked about a lot of things, me and Stephen. It... wasn't easy, not at first, you know?"
"Well..."
"Well, you would have known if you hadn't been avoiding us." She gave him a searching look, her cheeks still pink. But her eyes were brighter now, at least. "We... um... Well, we need to talk to you as well."
"About what?"
"Connor..." She trailed off, leaning forward in her seat, and he found himself mirroring her movement. "Stephen and I agree that..." His heart sank again but he tried to find a smile for her sake. "Look, we... this whole thing is weird."
"Yes." He nodded jerkily. "I know, and I'm sorry, and if you want me to move out of the flat I'll go. I'm not sure where, but that's my problem, you know, and not yours, and -"
"Connor," she interrupted. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about?"
"This. The anomalies. Prehistoric creatures in the present day. The fact that we - we - have to, I don't know, try and save the world or something. You don't think that's a little bit weird?"
"Oh, that. I thought you meant..." He waved his hand around vaguely and Abby flushed again.
"Okay," she said, and there was a hint of laughter in her voice, just enough to raise Connor's spirits slightly. "That was a little weird." A little? "But I suppose what I'm saying is... there are worse kind of weirds that could have happened. And... this wasn't the worst kind of weird. By a long way." She smiled at him and underneath the shape of that smile he thought he caught a glimpse of the wicked little grin he'd seen before.
He let out a breath. "Okay," he said. "Yeah, I can see that, and..." His turn to run out of words to say, but Abby seemed to get it anyway and nodded, her eyes not leaving his face.
"Stephen..." She took a deep breath, pursing her lips and then huffing it out again. "Stephen and I," she corrected, and then hesitated, just for a moment, before saying, firmly, "we decided we didn't mind that kind of weird." He blinked at her. "If you didn't mind that kind of weird." Her hands were shaking, just a little, and she clasped them together in her lap to steady them. "Because..."
He was hoping. He shouldn't be hoping, shouldn't be hopeful, because... It sounded almost like maybe Abby and Stephen not only didn't hate him but... "There are worse kinds of weird?"
"Yeah." And then her smile turned wistful. "And this... Everything we do... It sort of puts a perspective on weird, you know? And..."
"And?"
"And it's not like you and Stephen are exactly hard to look at." The words came out in a rush, her voice shaking with a nervous sort of laughter, and he felt the blood surging into his face, burning. But her eyes were kind and he gave her a weak smile.
"Wouldn't kick either of us out of bed, then?"
"No," she said softly. "Probably not." And then she pinked up herself.
She looked like she might have said more but then the doorbell rang and she glanced over towards the stairs before looking back at him. "That will be Stephen," she said. "Should I let him in?" He hesitated again, not quite able to believe that this was happening. Not quite able to believe that this could happen. "I told him I'd only let him in if you think it's a good idea. Do you?"
He took a deep breath.
"I think it's the best idea ever," he said.
The End
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what i thought was especially great were the moments between lester and connor, and cutter and connor that really highlighted the differences between all the characters and how they might react to such a situation, and also set it up so that it might actually make sense for them to stay together afterwards.
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I love writing threesomes and the dynamics of the different characters but I always worry about whether it's convincing, whether I've managed to get them together in a way that feels real and organic to the characters. So I'm really thrilled that it worked for you.