Connor Temple, Sex God by alyse [ - ]
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Category: Primeval > Slash and Femslash > Slash, Primeval > Threesomes, Moresomes and Bitextual (slash and het), Primeval > Het > Abby/Connor
Characters: Abby Maitland, Connor Temple, Stephen Hart
Rating: NC-17
Genres: First Time, PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Warnings: None

Summary: There was no doubt about it. Connor was a sex god.

Pairings: Abby/Connor, Connor/Stephen, Abby/Connor/Stephen

Story Notes:
Written for the Primeval Ficathon for Beren, for prompt #1: aphrodisiac pollen or aphrodisiac insect bites or anything that makes them frisky :) and who also wanted a threesome.

Many thanks to Aithine for the beta services and Temaris for general cheerleading.

Spoilers: Set in vague series 1. No spoilers.

It was Abby who noticed it first. Rather, it was Abby who noticed him first. Looking back, that should probably have clued him in. He'd been trying to get Abby to notice him for months, ever since she'd strode into his life in a pair of too tight jeans and a pixie cut. It worked for her and it definitely worked for him, but she'd never noticed him back, not the way he wanted her to - she only seemed to notice him when he was being particularly dorky or clumsy, and that happened far too often for Connor's peace of mind.

But one Tuesday she actually looked at him rather than through him and then, as if the universe had finally decided it needed to cut him a break - or, more likely knowing Connor's luck, had decided to set him up for an epic fall - she leant in towards him, closing the gap between them until she was close enough for him to see every faint freckle that adorned her exceptionally pretty face.

"Hmm," she said, and then she breathed in deeply, her eyes sliding shut. He blinked at her, not entirely sure what was going on. Was she... sniffing him?

"You smell nice," she said, and apparently she was. "Is that aftershave?"

No, it wasn't, not after her lecture the last time he'd tried for the Lynx effect. He now knew more than he'd ever wanted to about how sensitive the olfactory organs were on certain species of animals. Including - especially - lizards, which in Abby's world was an exceptionally hideous crime. In fact, she might have said something along the lines of it not mattering how sensitive any creature's olfactory organs were anyway because every living thing within a ten mile radius would be able to smell him. 'Including the plants.'

No, he didn't want a repeat of that, not now his eardrums had finally stopped ringing. "No," he said and it might have come out a little more defensively than he'd intended. He was about to launch into more blustering - but possibly not quite as defensive because Abby could pack a mean kick when roused - when she took the wind out of his sails. This time when she leant in, she placed one small, strong hand on his shoulder to steady herself and he would swear that the tip of her nose brushed over his skin.

"Must be you, then," she said, and her hand lingered for a moment on his shoulder before she pulled away. She tilted her head, looking at him from under her eyelashes, and then her mouth quirked upwards in a way that got his full attention. "I like it," she added simply, and that pretty much rendered him speechless for the rest of the day. So much so that even Lester noticed and asked, unjustifiably suspicious in Connor's rather wounded opinion, whether he was sickening for something.


Wednesday morning dawned bright and cheerful, and Connor felt much the same way. Abby's eyes kept meeting his over the breakfast table and for once she wasn't complaining about the fact that he'd dipped the same knife he'd used for the butter into the jam and left little buttery traces through it, like airplane trails if they were flying through solidified fruit and he really needed to start thinking these sort of metaphors through before his brain got distracted by the bright and the shiny of Abby's smile and short, short pyjama shorts.

And she kept smiling, as well, all through the day. Just these little quirks of her mouth, like she knew something he didn't. Sort of a cat got the cream smile, and he shouldn't have thought of that metaphor either because it led to thinking of Abby and licking and purring and he was so going to hell and if he kept thinking things like that it was a pretty good bet that Abby would help him on his way there. She'd always been very clear that they were mates, and that was all. He was staying with her, on her sufferance, not 'living together', no matter what he'd told Stephen.

It didn't stop him from smiling back, even when she stole his lunch.


By Wednesday afternoon, Abby was still smiling at him. It might have been wishful thinking, but he'd swear that she was also starting to find excuses to brush up against him, to touch him or even sometimes just stand close enough to him to smell him. Normally that would have been a little bit creepy but this was Abby and, frankly, if she wanted to strip his clothes off him and roll around in them for a while, that would have been absolutely fine with him. More than fine, actually, and the thought of it made him flush bright red until Stephen noticed made some comment about him overheating.

"You should take some of those layers off," Stephen said with a look that was far too knowing for Connor's comfort. "Not even you can need that many clothes now that the weather's getting warmer." And then he smirked, leaning in conspiratorially, something Connor was stupid enough to fall for. "Strip, Connor," he murmured, and Connor's face burned.

Stephen could be a complete bastard sometimes, even if he didn't know just how close he was to the mark. Knowing he was just made him worse, so Connor braced himself for at least a day or two of teasing until Stephen got bored and moved on. And, of course, when he did get around to removing his jacket, he'd broken out in prickly heat all up one of his arms. Thank God Stephen wasn't around to tease him about that, too.

It really wasn't fair. Stephen never had to worry about things like misinterpreting signals. He probably got knickers thrown at him, or whatever passed for 'rock star status' in the world of palaeontology, on a regular basis. Connor'd never even seen a pair of knickers, at least not in the flesh when a girl was wearing them. He figured drunken Agrics didn't count and there were some sights that should forever be stricken from his memory. Like most of Fresher's Week, come to think of it.

So when later that afternoon Stephen cornered him in one of the small store rooms buried in the basement of the Home Office building, down near the labs, Connor heaved a mental sigh and braced himself for the worst Stephen had to offer - maybe a little mocking about the blushing and the stammering whenever Abby was near. At least Stephen wasn't cruel enough to touch on the fact that Connor actually believed that he might stand a chance with Abby. Or that Connor believed he might stand a chance with anyone.

"Did you want something?" he asked, rather irritated that after closing the door, Stephen was simply standing there and saying nothing, just looking at him with this weird expression on his face. "Stephen?"

His heart skipped a bit when Stephen finally moved, looming over him and crowding in on him in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable. He blinked up at Stephen, frowning in confusion, and opened his mouth to tell Stephen to get knotted - only probably more politely than that because this was Stephen after all - but then Stephen shoved him up against the shelving units and proceeded to kiss the ever living daylights out of him.

His brain short circuited, sparking out without putting up even the faintest hint of a fight. When Stephen finally pulled back, staring down at him seriously, there were no words. Literally. In fact, Connor might even have done the goldfish thing, where his mouth kept opening in the hope that the words might actually deign to show up and then closing it again when it became clear that they'd pretty much fled for the hills along with the rest of his higher brain functions. That goldfish thing must have been why Stephen switched his gaze from staring into Connor's eyes to staring at his mouth. That had to be why, right? It wasn't as though Stephen was going to kiss him again...

Oh. Apparently he'd been wrong about that as well.

This time when Stephen finally pulled back, his lips separated from Connor's with a wet sort of sound that shouldn't have been anywhere near as hot as it was. But then Stephen kissing him shouldn't have been anywhere near as hot as it was, not when Connor had a thing for Abby - like a really big thing for Abby. And not when Connor was really, really straight. He'd thought.

Stephen kissed him again, or maybe he kissed Stephen. It was all getting very confusing, far too confusing for Connor and his brain was still on holiday - he couldn't focus on thinking it through, not when Stephen's lips were moving slowly over his doing things that Connor didn't even know could be done. He had a strange feeling that this might be important on some level, but it was getting a little warm in that cupboard, which had to be due to two warm bodies giving off heat in a very enclosed space and weren't the physics of convection really quite interesting and he wondered if maybe he should follow Stephen's earlier advice and remove some layers of clothing, and then he wondered if maybe Stephen would like to help him with that. Somehow, tracking that train of thoughts around its winding trail to its inevitable conclusion seemed much more important than worrying about why Stephen was kissing him.

Stephen's hand slid along his waist, his fingers gliding up underneath the tails of Connor's shirt to stroke over Connor's vest and, oh, that was really quite interesting, too. Maybe if he asked Stephen very nicely, Stephen wouldn't stop. Ever.

When Stephen rose for air again, Connor didn't quite beg for another kiss. Not quite, although it was a close run thing. Instead, he said, "Um," which quite an intelligent remark under the circumstances, he thought, especially when Stephen was standing so close that Connor could actually feel Stephen's breath on his face. "That... um..." There were words out there somewhere, there had to be. If he could only find them. Words to put into semi-coherent sentences like 'I thought I was straight' and 'I like Abby and you're not Abby' and 'I thought you liked girls' and 'maybe you'd like to help me road test that straight theory?' Okay, strike that one because he'd had vague thoughts of not begging, but maybe he should reconsider his stance on that because Stephen's fingers had found skin now and were stroking small circles, just above the waistband of Connor's trousers. Who knew that just a simple touch like that would feel that good? It was certainly new to Connor, and he swallowed down a sound that sounded suspiciously like it might have come out as a moan.

"Hmmm." Stephen pressed closer to Connor like an affection starved cat. Connor swallowed - Stephen really was a lot taller than Connor when they were up this close. It was weird how Connor didn't mind that, especially not when Stephen lowered his head, his nose nudging at Connor's neck until Connor really had to tilt his head back, shivering slightly as Stephen's breath brushed over his skin. It was only polite when someone did... whatever Stephen was doing. Right? "You smell nice."

Stephen's mouth was right next to Connor's skin, his lips brushing over the surface as he formed the words, Connor feeling them as much as hearing them. Stephen's voice rumbling through his body triggered a whole Pavlovian shivering thing he seemed to be developing in response to Stephen and proximity and Stephen being proximal and, oh.

Stephen licked him, rough tongue sliding over his skin.

That.... That should not have felt anywhere near as good as it had.

"Taste nice, too," Stephen murmured, his mouth tracing up over Connor's chin, still barely brushing the surface but making Connor shiver anyway, feverish chills shaking his body as his fingers spasmed involuntarily against Stephen's broad shoulders. "I wonder if you taste that nice everywhere?"

His mouth hovered over Connor's for a long moment, Stephen's blue eyes meeting and holding his. And then Stephen pulled back again, a devilish grin forming on his face as his fingers - still stroking over Connor's skin - paused for a moment before they flattened possessively against Connor's waist. Then Stephen was sinking to his knees and... oh... my... God.

And that was how Connor lost his virginity. Well, for the first time, anyway.


He should have felt guiltier about it, given how he felt about Abby and given how Abby seemed to have started feeling about him, but the rush of endorphins kept him grinning for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. Even the prickly heat seemed to have faded, but that might have been to do with Stephen helping him with that overheating thing by removing as many items of Connor's clothing as they felt they could get away with in a semi-public space. Any brief spurt of guilt he did feel whenever his eyes caught Abby's didn't linger once she turned away. It should have done, it really should have, but Abby kept smiling at him, her eyes lighting up, and with that sight in front of him, how could he feel anything but good?

And him and Stephen... It had been fucking fabulous - and there was a pun in there somewhere - but it wasn't like they were going to make a habit of it, was it? It was difficult not to feel some regret at that, especially remembering how Stephen had done that thing with his tongue, and then that other thing with his fingers, and... wow. Still tingling. In fact, the memories kept him coasting on a high until well into the evening, long after he and Abby had made their way back to the flat.

As usual, it was his turn to cook, which was actually something he didn't mind much because Abby was one of those exceptionally rare people who managed to burn water. He wouldn't have thought it possible until he'd seen it with his own eyes and he really needed to learn to think before he spoke because it had taken a week afterwards for the bruise on his arm to fade.

Stephen had left bruises, too. Small ones, on his hips, right where Stephen's thumbs had rested when he... The memories were still enough to make him smile, and he whistled as he moved around the kitchen, Abby's eyes following him. She was perched on the stool by the counter and, when he glanced over at her, she was smiling, too, a small, secretive smile like she knew something he didn't.

She couldn't know, could she? The thought made him miss a step as he stared at her, his face probably giving away a hell of a lot more than he intended. He swallowed down the guilt that was now - finally and too late - starting to bubble to the surface, and Abby's smile deepened.

"Your pot's starting to boil," she purred, lips turning up in a way that ought to be illegal. She was wearing lipstick - he was sure she hadn't been wearing lipstick at work, at least not that shade, a deep, vibrant pink that made him think thoughts that were probably just as illegal.


"Pot, Connor," she breathed, rising like a cat from her stool and padding over towards him. He stared at her, wooden spoon drooping from fingers that suddenly didn't know how to grip. His knees weren't that steady, either, especially not when she leant past him, close enough for her body to brush up against his as she switched off the stove. "There," she said, pulling back to stare up at him with eyes that were just thin rings of blue around dark, deep and dangerous pupils. "Hmm... Something smells good."

He swallowed down. "Must be the pasta sauce," he said, and she leant in closer, the heat of her body and the scent of her perfume surrounding him.

Wait. Perfume?


"No," and there was no mistaking the purr in her voice this time. Her fingers moved, coming to rest on his chest, right over his heart, and his pulse leapt. It wasn't the only thing that was leaping to attention. "It's not the pasta sauce." She leant in closer still, her face a hairsbreadth from his, the soft exhalation breath brushing against the sensitive skin next to his ear. "It's you."

She placed a soft kiss there and the spoon finally gave up the ghost and clattered to the floor, his knees sagging as they, too, succumbed to gravity. Or maybe just to Abby's pull. "I... I thought you were hungry?" he said weakly, and she smiled, her lips curving against his skin.

"I am," she murmured. She pulled back until she could look straight into his face, staring at him with a kind of intense look that he'd not seen before. Not just hungry, but like she was starving and he was an all you can eat buffet.

He swallowed nervously again. "Abby...?"

"Shut up, Connor," she said, and then her mouth settled on his, hot and wet and needy, none of Abby's usual second thoughts in it. Nothing in it but hunger. "It's dinner time."

And that was how Connor lost his virginity for the second time.

He was never looking at spatulas the same way again.


Thursday morning dawned bright and early, far earlier than Connor was used to but apparently Abby was just as talented with her mouth as Stephen had been. So much better than an alarm clock, and white lights flared across the inside of his tightly closed eyelids as he spilled into Abby's mouth, his fingers scrabbling desperately at his pillow.

"Hey," she said, pulling back from his still twitching cock. She licked at her lips and the sight alone was enough for his treacherous cock to start showing interest again. She was going to kill him but at least he was going to die bloody happy. She moved up his body, her fingers sliding over the sensitive skin at the head of his cock, making him squirm as she gripped him lightly, slowly moving the foreskin up and down until he started to harden again under her touch. "Hmmm," she murmured and leant in to kiss him, sloppy and open mouthed.

He could taste himself on her tongue, in the contours of her mouth, bitter and salty, and he pulled her closer, his dick jerking in her hand. God, maybe this was what Stephen tasted like. Maybe one day he'd get to taste Stephen, maybe even on Abby's tongue.

The thought was filthy enough to have him moaning, clutching at Abby with desperate fingers as her grip tightened, now sliding the full length of his cock through her fist.

"I want you," she said, pulling back and staring down at him with eyes that were dark with need. "Now."

She moved to straddle him, using her fingers to guide him into her. They were still wet from his come; he could feel it when she steadied herself with her hand on the flat of his belly as she lowered herself onto him.

God, she was beautiful. No wonder he was getting hard again so quickly when he had this to look forward to. Her head was thrown back, the cords of her neck standing out in sharp relief. Her breasts were small and perfect, the nipples already hard when he brushed his thumbs over them, feeling her rock into his touch. He came back, twisting one of them gently between his finger and thumb the way she'd shown him she liked it last night, and she let out a sharp little cry, her head falling forward until she was staring down at him.

Her eyes were still wide, wild and a little lost as she sank down on him again, a perfect, tight, wet heat. "Make me come, Connor. Please."

He caught hold of her hips, pulling her down against him as he pushed up, sliding into her as deeply as he could and she let out another one of those sharp, perfect little sounds, her mouth a little lost moue. Again and her fingers curled against his stomach, fingernails digging in with prickly little pains that did nothing to take the edge off the need to come in her again. "Connor," she sighed, and he pulled her down again, faster this time, harder and harder until the blood rushing in his ears drowned out even the sound of their flesh meeting and the high, shrill sounds of Abby's pleasure.

She slumped against him when he finally came in her, her breath hot, wet pants against his skin. "Oh, that was..."

"Yeah," he said, and she pushed herself off him, his cock sliding free of her as she sank down onto the bed next to him.

She rolled over onto her side and simply watched him, that secretive little smile still adorning her face, until he turned his head to look at her. Then her smile turned wicked, and she leant in to steal another kiss, her tongue sliding past his lips, running over his teeth. He could still taste himself in her mouth and his fingers reached up, cupping her breast. "Hmmm," she said again, pulling back far enough for his fingers to slip from her skin. She replaced them with her own, running her hands over her breasts, fingers circling her nipples. Her smile was still wicked and she waited until she had his full attention before her hands drifted southwards, down over the soft, luxurious curve of her belly to the lushness between her thighs.

She closed her eyes when she pushed her fingers into herself, her lips parting with a contented sigh, and she was seriously going to kill him if she kept this up. He couldn't tear his eyes away, though, pushing himself up onto his elbow so he could watch as she slid her fingers out again, glistening with her come and his. He licked his lips, wondering what she would taste like - what he would taste like mixed with her - if he went down on her right now. He hadn't done that yet and, God, now he wanted to.

She pushed her fingers back in with a moan and he swallowed, reaching out to stroke his fingers lightly over her skin. She opened her eyes again, sliding her fingers from her body with a soft, satisfied smile. And then she wrapped them around his cock, her fingers hot and slick and tight and wet.

"Ready for round four?"


He made it in to Cutter's office eventually, although his knees still didn't want to work quite right. But it didn't matter - the world was passing by in a delightful haze. If he closed his eyes he could still picture Abby's face, slack with pleasure when she came. And when he opened them again, she might even be there, passing on her way to somewhere or another on the University campus with one of those smiles again, the ones she seemed to have just for him.

It was easy to get distracted by the sight and the scent of her, the way her body moved as she stalked past, all fluid lines now, her hips rolling rather than the kind of brisk movement he normally associated with her. And those hips and that bum... He'd left bruises on both this morning, not intentionally, but the same kind of bruises that Stephen had left on his hips - small, thumb shaped ones that said, clearly as anything, 'Connor was here'.

"Connor." Cutter's voice dragged him back to the present, sharp and brisk with irritation. He murmured an apology, drifting back over to Cutter's desk and turning his attention back to the photographs spread across it. The pictures were blurry, too blurry for Connor to be able to tell what they were with any certainty. What he was sure was that they couldn't be of the lorry that was the official explanation for knocking over the CCTV in Tesco's car park. If he squinted, he could possibly make out something big, maybe even reptilian, but whatever it was it seemed to be a little camera shy. Connor offered his observations a little sheepishly, biting his lip before adding some vague and half-hearted comments about government conspiracies. It was hard to get enthusiastic about them now, even on the best of days. Not when you were part of one and especially not when there were so much better things to get enthusiastic about.

"Sorry, Professor," he added, when Cutter simply looked at him, the exasperation clear on his face. "I think Lester's wrong, but that's about as far as I can go."

Cutter's face softened. "Never mind," he said, laying one big hand on the back of Connor's neck in a way that was almost affectionate and giving him a little shake. "Maybe we can send Stephen out to the site, have a good look around and see if there's anything else there."

"Where is Stephen?" Connor asked idly, scratching at his wrist again.

Cutter shrugged. "Around," was all he had to say as he stared down at the photographs, his eyes tracking over the dark, blurry images. "I think he and Abby might be working on something." Normally that would have made Connor just a little bit envious, maybe even jealous, but not today. Today was just awesome.

Cutter's hand was still resting on the back of his neck and that was kind of awesome, too. Cutter wasn't one to show affection, not normally, so Connor figured he could be forgiven for basking in it for a moment. Certainly, he might have leant in to Cutter's touch, just a little bit.

"Anyway," said Cutter, seeming to give himself a little mental shake. "Can't be helped." His fingers tightened for a second, just fractionally, but it felt like a caress. "We'll figure it out or we won't." Then Cutter's voice trailed off and he turned his head towards Connor. There was a small frown on his face, but it wasn't an annoyed or irritated one - Connor recognised those by now. He wasn't quite sure what the underlying emotion was, and he simply looked at Cutter until Cutter leant in closer. "You... smell good."

Connor blinked.

"Hey." The sound of Stephen's voice drifted in from the doorway and Cutter's fingers twitched against his neck before they let go, Cutter taking a step back. The frown on his face still wasn't annoyed but there was an air of puzzlement about it now. Maybe that was what Connor had seen before. "You busy, Connor?"

Connor blinked again, looking slowly between Cutter and Stephen. "No...?"

"Do you need him?" Stephen asked, turning his attention back to Cutter, and maybe Connor was imagining it but there seemed to be a slight edge to his voice. Cutter shook his head slightly, but it didn't seem to be for Stephen's benefit. It was almost as though he were clearing his head, shaking away the cobwebs after a long night. And then he looked up at Stephen, that small frown still gracing his face.

"No. No, I don't." Cutter's voice wasn't certain as he glanced back at Connor but Stephen nodded anyway.

"Okay. Can you give me a hand with something, Connor?"

"Sure." He could think of several somethings, actually. "Catch you later, yeah, Professor?" Cutter blinked at him again, his expression segueing from puzzled to outright confused as Connor started to move towards Stephen. That - the strangeness of that - stopped Connor in his tracks, hesitating in the doorway as he looked back. "You okay?"

Cutter blinked again and then his face cleared. "I'm fine, Connor. Just... tired, I think." He gave Connor a vague smile, one that barely lifted the corners of his mouth but was no less genuine for it. "You and Stephen have fun with whatever you're up to. I'll keep working on these, okay?"

"Sure." Appeased, Connor smiled back at the man and then let Stephen guide him through the doorway, Stephen's hand settling in the small of his back as though it belonged there.

"What did you want me to do?" he asked Stephen as soon as they were out of earshot. Stephen simply looked at him, his fingers still resting against Connor's back, just enough of a touch to remind Connor of Stephen's presence, as though the proximity of the man wouldn't do it for him. He had to resist the urge to lean into Stephen, too, not out here, in the corridor where anyone - including Abby - could come across them.

Not that there was anything wrong with what they were doing. Right?

"In here," Stephen said, jerking his head towards a door on their right. Connor nodded obligingly, wondering if this was Stephen's office, if Stephen even had an office. It was close enough to Cutter's, he supposed, but did lab techs and right hand men even get offices? That was part of the whole academic office politics thing that sailed straight over Connor's head.

It wasn't an office - it was another store room, this time holding a few mops and buckets, and lots and lots of toilet rolls, the cheap kind that was the only kind the Uni seemed willing to spring for, if the state of the Student Union loos was any indication.

"Oh," said Connor, all he managed to get out before even that sound was muffled by Stephen's lips settling over his. Stephen's fingers were in his hair, moving slowly over his scalp in a way that made Connor go weak at the knees. "Oh," he said again when Stephen finally released him, his hands moving down to Connor's hips, pulling Connor tightly against him so that Connor could feel how hard Stephen was. Hard for him.

Stephen started to drop to his knees, at least until Connor stopped him, grabbing at his arms and pulling him closer for another kiss. Somehow - and he'd never quite work out how - he managed to get Stephen turned around so that it was Stephen's back against the wall. "Wait," he said, pulling his mouth away from Stephen for long enough to get the word out. Stephen followed him, capturing his mouth again, his tongue sliding in and meeting Connor's.

Connor went weak at the knees again, which made it easier to sink to the floor, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings of Stephen's jeans. It took longer than it should, the buttons not cooperating at all, although maybe that was Connor's nervous fingers, but eventually he managed to ease Stephen's erection out into the air, where it bobbed in time to Connor's rough and clumsy strokes.

It was beautiful like Stephen was beautiful: long, slim, and powerful. Connor took a deep breath and leant in, sliding his tongue over the glans, teasing at the slit in the end, where the taste was bitter, not quite like the taste of his own come on Abby's tongue.

Stephen groaned and, when Connor looked up, Stephen's head was thrown back, the column of his neck tensed like it was carved out of marble, and Connor wanted to rise up, trace his tongue along the length of it, maybe even sink his teeth into it, just hard enough to make Stephen's hips jerk against his. But Stephen's dick was a bigger draw, heavy in the palm of his hand as he stroked his hand along the underneath of it, root to tip.

He leant in again, opening his mouth to suck the very end of it in, closing his lips around it and feeling the weight of it - and the bitter taste of it - on his tongue. Stephen's hand settled in his hair again, Stephen's fingers curling against his scalp, and he swallowed, hearing Stephen groan above him again. The sound of it went to Connor's dick, and he pressed his free hand down on his crotch, the tension building in the pit of his stomach.

He could do this. It was just another first, that was all; Stephen's fingers curled around the back of his head as his dick slid deeper into Connor's mouth, sliding home.


Abby was waiting for him when he finally stepped out of the University building, blinking blearily in the late afternoon light. She was sitting on a bollard, her feet pressed against the concrete, with her face tilted up towards the sun. She was still beautiful as she had been this morning and he still wanted her.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered over, enjoying the slow burn of desire in his chest and the way it settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. "Hey," he said, stroking his fingers down Abby's back, and she opened her eyes slowly, turning her head to smile at him, as brilliant and blinding as the sun.

"Hey," she said. "Ready to go home?"

He scratched at his chest thoughtfully before he shoved his hand back into his pocket, just so he wouldn't slide it through the delicate, pale strands of her hair, which were gleaming in the late afternoon light, and pull her to him. It could wait until they got home. "Yeah."

She let him through the door, at least, before she pounced, arms winding around his neck as she pressed against him, pressing frantic kisses across his face, down over his neck. Her strong, small hand worked its way into his jeans, sliding under the fabric of his boxers to grasp his cock, which was already half hard and waiting for her. It hardened even more under her touch and he slid one hand underneath her t-shirt, pushing up her bra until he could stroke his fingers over her nipple, feeling it pebble as his thumb circled it.

"I want you," she gasped into his mouth, pulling his head down as she sucked on his bottom lip. Her hand slid along his length and she laughed when he gasped, shaking and caught on the cusp of a moan. "Now."

He was happy to oblige, his hands already pushing her t-shirt off over her head and battling with the fastenings of her jeans. It wasn't as easy as it should have been - her hands kept getting in the way as she tried to get his trousers undone and eventually he just let go of her and let her have a clear run at it. She didn't even let him pull them all the way off - just pushed them down over his hips far enough to free his dick and then wriggled out of hers, kicking them onto the floor like she didn't normally nag him mercilessly for leaving his clothes lying around. Her bra soon followed, and he reached out again to cup one perfect breast. "Now," she said again, and her voice was tight and desperate, going straight to his dick. "Now, Connor."

Her hands were needy as they caught hold of him, fingers as tight as her voice and her mouth greedy and demanding as it settled over his. "Want you in me," she said, the words breathed into him. Yes. God, yes.

The bed was too far, but the sofa wasn't. He'd fucked her there yesterday, sinking into her body as she sank into the cushions, but this time he bent her over the arm, sliding into her from behind. She groaned and pushed back against him, her fingers scrabbling frantically against the cushions, looking for leverage as each thrust into her pushed her forward, her hips slamming back against his.

He leant back and braced himself, looking down. Jesus. He could watch himself, watch his dick sliding in and out of Abby, and it was hotter than anything. Abby pushed back against him, making these frantic little mewling noises, and he lost the rhythm, slamming into her with no finesse; she shook and moaned, finally bracing herself firmly against the arm of the sofa so that she could push back against him and he slid as deeply into her as possible.

She came apart with a small cry, her body convulsing around his, and it dragged him down with her. He slumped, still buried in her beautiful, wonderful body, and pressed his forehead between her sweaty shoulder blades.

"Connor," she sighed, reaching back with one hand to slide it along his skin, stroking wherever she could reach. And then she pushed herself up on shaky arms, patting at him awkwardly until he got the hint and shifted his weight off her, letting her roll over onto her back.

He stared down at her; her face was flushed bright red, sweaty strands of hair clinging to her forehead. She pushed herself up again, this time until she was sitting on the arm of the chair, and reached for him, pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist until her calves pressed against his jeans. He kissed her, slow and deep. "Again, Connor," she murmured against his mouth, fingers curling against his skin, sliding down his back to clutch at his waist. Her strong legs flexed against him, drawing him in until he slid back into her. "Again."

There was no doubt about it. He was a sex god.


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?"


"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. 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.



Best. Idea. Ever!


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.


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...


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.


Oh, God. He had no idea, none at all, except -

"Something's really, really wrong, Professor."

That much he was sure of.


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.



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.


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, 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 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