Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or its characters… Which is probably a good thing for their sake.
Author's note: Yeah. Couldn't keep my hands off of them. Or, I couldn't let them keep their hands of each other? This should be a fun exploration of three ships in different stages. For some reason, I've been writing it along the guy's POV (3rd person, as usual, but limited).
Takes place…er… don't know (I still haven't watched series 5 yet, but it will be obvious this takes place at some point -in the future- when Emily is working at the ARC.)
First Up, Matt & Emily…
WARNING: SMUT! Nothing explicit or graphic (I don't think).
Part 1: Bothersome Creatures
Upon entering the room, Matt Anderson had opened his mouth to issue a greeting, but the words died in his throat.
At first glance, the research laboratory had appeared vacant. This was quickly refuted as he simultaneously rounded the centrally-located, tall metal table and muffled curses reached his ears.
It was definitely what he saw that pushed every thought from his mind rather than the frustrated mumbling, however.
And what he saw was a bottom. A woman's bottom. And a fine one at that. Obviously firm and yet alluringly round.
He'd know that delicious rump anywhere, even without the distinctive riding boots below it.
Toned muscles shifted beneath denim that hugged curves like it was a second skin. There was a scraping noise as the bottom lunged forward and then jumped back with a yelp from its owner.
Emily was on her hands and knees, her head and shoulders disappeared behind a cabinet that had been pulled slightly away from the wall. She was obviously scrabbling about for something, perhaps dropped behind the cabinet. But why did it seem to be putting up so much resistance?
More importantly, he asked himself, why did he care? For the bottom repeated its previous little dance of twitches and wiggles. And it gave him all kinds of ideas. None of which were to provide the woman with assistance. Well, immediate assistance, anyway.
Matt approached slowly, savouring the sight as if he hadn't run his hands all over that bottom on numerous previous occasions. Oh god, and the lace...
He barely contained the moan that threatened the back of his throat. The teal lace peaked out above the waist of the jeans, teasing Matt mercilessly. Why did it get to caress the creamy skin of her lower back visible as her shirt rode up, instead of him?
Well, he could remedy that...
He crouched down beside her, laying a hand on that maddeningly shimmying bottom with the excuse of steadying himself.
Her reply was little more than a growl and if there had been words involved, they were entirely indistinguishable to Matt's distracted mind. He felt muscles shift beneath his hand as she turned to look at him over her shoulder, unwittingly attaining a 'sex kitten' pose that made Matt wish they were back in the flat instead of at the ARC. Because, oh, the things he would do to her...
"And what is it you think you're doing?" she asked.
Apparently, hands placed upon another person solely for support did not squeeze. For Emily had definitely called him on the groping. That did not mean the game was over, however.
"I thought I'd lend you a hand."
He blatantly goosed her. One would think it had been a complete stranger groping her, on a public street, in the middle of the day, for the hard look she gave him.
But he knew her better than that. There was a small twinkle in her eye despite the annoyance in her brow. She returned her attention to the dark recess behind the cabinet. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.
"If I were you, I would give considerable consideration to relocating that hand before I do so on your behalf."
Nah. She didn't really mean it.
Sometimes, it was difficult to discern. But Matt would like to think that he'd gotten the hang of it, of being able to tell when and how far he could push Emily. Of when she was receptive to playing, and when she was well and truly irate.
He relocated his hand to her waist. She probably hadn't meant that he should move it from cupping her bottom to caressing the smooth skin underneath her blouse. But what fun was there in doing as she asked?
Shifting onto his knees, he pulled at her waist, bringing her teasing bottom flush to his hip and leaning over her unnecessarily to whisper in her ear. It required no effort to conjure the husky, low voice that generally earned him a bit of lustful trembling on her part.
"What's giving you such a hard time?"
Hard was so the key word at the moment.
The warm skin under his hand turned to gooseflesh, and he fought not to smile as Emily sighed.
And she was still capable of surprising him. Before he knew what was happening, she'd had him flipped onto his back and was straddling his waist, her hands catching his before they could continue their urgent exploration of her body.
"I've been helping Abby to perform the monthly physicals on the creatures," Emily said. "The hylonomus specimen escaped."
"Behind the cabinet?" Matt supplied, fighting to concentrate on anything but the feel of her hips sliding over his.
This was ridiculous! They'd been living together for months. They had sex on a nightly basis, except for those long days that they barely managed to get their shoes off before they collapsed into bed, asleep before their heads even hit the pillows. He'd had Emily so many times, in as many ways he could ever think of, and some he'd never imagined but apparently she had. And they'd always maintained a professional distance while at work. That was, up until last week, when there was this untenable rise of sexual tension. The kind of tension that generally only arose between people who hadn't resolved their physical attraction, when everything was novel and mysterious and slowly building into a torturous lustful ache.
Emily huffed. Matt felt her exasperated movement in his groin. God, she was killing him. Just killing him. Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together. They had an amazingly satisfying tryst in the shower that morning. And he'd gone years, literally years before without sex. Why couldn't he even manage surviving a few hours without the need to bugger Emily overwhelming him?
"I think he's in the walls at present. I saw his malevolent, beady little eye peeking out at me."
She growled and lunged forward, as if to make another grab at the unfortunate prehistoric iguana-like lizard hiding in the wall behind his head. Luckily, she released his hands and he was able to grab her waist before she could fall fully on top of him and smother him with the soft fabric covering her appealingly smooth stomach.
She smelled good enough to eat.
He rolled them so he was on top, careful to prop himself up. The less direct contact between them, the better. Because he was about a look or word or gyration away from breaking major rules and having sex with a coworker in the middle of a lab in the ARC.
Emily's cheeks were satisfyingly flushed. And her brown eyes were dark with want. Yet she somehow managed to compose herself, despite the quick squirm of her body beneath him. She licked her lips and he had to battle another groan from announcing his desperation. And then she adorned a mock admonishing look that wasn't entirely devoid of genuineness.
"I've had quite enough of bothersome creatures with a proclivity for penetrating tight spaces," she said.
Matt heard the growl escape his throat as he lost the little ground he had recovered towards self-control. Emily had a filthy mouth. Also, oddly enough, her ability and enjoyment of talking dirty had only debuted in their relationship rather recently. Her affinity for cursing had always been there, bolstered by the adoption of 21st century slang from her teammates. She was not so refined as her old title and 19th century origins would have one believe. But the innuendo, double entendres, and blatant sexual suggestions had appeared rather suddenly and profusely. And he wasn't complaining. Quite the contrary, he encouraged her.
"What would you do if you got your hands on one of these 'bothersome creatures'?"
"Not if." She held his gaze, jaw firm. "When I get my hands on him."
"Sorry. When you get your hands on him, what're you going to do?"
One of the hands in question had been resting flat against his chest. It began to wander down his front, in the few centimeters space between their bodies, towards one of the Bothersome Creatures she had alluded to.
"Are you asking me whether I'd be gentle or rough in my handling of him?"
Matt could only nod his head, for her hand had come to rest at his groin and all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. If he opened his mouth, he'd only groan, long and loud and pathetically needy. Her eyes were positively dancing with pleasure and she was visibly fighting the smile twitching the corner of her mouth. And her voice had taken on that low, flirtatiously breathy tone.
"Well, if he were to behave himself, I would caress him, stroke him. Maybe even give him a kiss."
She was trying to break him, the demon. Her fingers danced over his jeans, her palm pressing firmly against him. The Bothersome Creature pressed firmly back. The breath caught in his throat as she wet her lips again before she continued verbally torturing him.
"But if he were naughty..."
Emily shouldn't be allowed to use that word. It was pure sex on her lips. And it forever would be so in his mind, no matter what context she used it in the future. He would only see the way her moist lips formed the syllables, the unmitigated desire in her eyes. Only feel the way her hand cupped his throbbing creature.
"...I would squeeze him until he cried out."
On the word squeeze, she demonstrated quite aptly her intentions despite the taut fabric barring her from unhindered access. Matt did not bother to fight the groan that started deep in his throat and rumbled through his chest. It was useless. Emily had him. His arms and legs had gone a bit wobbly, and he let himself collapse against her soft, warm body. She had let him fall between her thighs, taking him in the cradle of her hips. He was so close to port, it hurt. Bloody stupid clothing.
"You're evil," he whispered in Emily's ear before exposing her shoulder and running his tongue over the sensitive skin.
"But delicious." He bit down ever so slightly.
She gasped, arched slightly beneath him (which was highly distracting), and her legs moved up to his waist. Her right leg continued to climb, which dredged up interesting memories, but they were only briefly considered, because her hand still at his crotch was threatening to finish him in an embarrassingly rapid fashion while he was still entirely clothed. And then her riding boot was firmly placed against his chest, and he was being thrust off from her.
He grunted as he rolled onto his back, hitting the floor a little heavily while Emily sprung to her feet beside him. What was with women? One moment they were fervently seducing you and the next, they were all business, telling you in a calm voice that they needed to track down a fugitive prehistoric lizard.
The proper thing would be to let her go.
Matt Anderson was not in a proper mood.
It was low, but there was a trick he could pull on Emily that would force her to finish what she had started. Okay. What he had started but she had oh, so vehemently perpetuated. He caught her hand as it reached for the door and somewhat roughly pulled her to the side, pushing her bodily into the wall, crushing her breasts into the hard surface and his hips into her arse. He grabbed her other hand and pinned it beside the first above her head. He was breathing as hard as her when he pressed further into her and she moaned.
"There's a Bothersome Creature that needs taking care of right here," he growled into her ear.
The maneuver never failed. He had discovered the kink a couple months ago. Personally, he enjoyed sexual positions that allowed him to see the expressions on her face, the look of unadulterated need, of pleased surprise and sometimes discomfort when he thrust into her, of ecstasy when she orgasmed... But for some reason, Emily became instantaneously and intensely aroused under the threat of being taken from behind. And if she had been wearing a skirt, he probably would've done so right there and then, gripping her hips, groaning into the back of her neck, causing her nails to leave gouges in the unyielding wall.
She spoke his name in a tremulous drawl as he kissed her neck.
"Now," she said.
And it was all the invitation he needed. Except, it couldn't be quick and easy. Well, he had to admit that once he was inside of her, it'd probably be rather quick despite his best efforts. And given how she was trembling against him, she was ready to take him. So it'd probably be easy, too. Getting to that point, however, would be painfully slow and problematic. It was all those bloody tight jeans' fault. They would've never been pushed to the edge of bursting if it weren't for the way that fabric hugged her fit bottom and teased him. And now he had to step away from Emily for long enough to relieve her of them. And the lace underthings...
And this was not an appropriate venue to strip one's girlfriend naked from the waist down and 'roger her brains out' as she was currently pleading with him to do. Not, at least, while that camera watched indifferently from the corner where two walls met the ceiling.
"Matt?" She sounded so pathetically desperate that he felt brief guilt over his actions, but the voracious creature in his trousers trumped the finer feelings he generally held for Emily.
"Not here," he said. Her face fell, until he pointed to the camera's unwavering gaze. And then she smiled in a way that told him the next half hour would probably be the best of his life. "There's a blind spot over there."
He led her to the corner, pushed her back to the wall and she proceeded to take very good care of his Bothersome Creature.
A/N: Next… Becker & Jess