A Matter of Trust by alyse [ - ]
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Category: Primeval > Het > Abby/Connor
Characters: Abby Maitland, Connor Temple
Rating: NC-17
Genres: Established Relationship, Humour, PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Warnings: None

Summary: Let your fingers do the walking...

Pairing: Abby/Connor

Story Notes:
Many thanks to temaris and aithine for the beta. Tem also came up with the title, which is considerably less BAD and WRONG than her first suggestion.

Written for MMoM. It's a little bit kinkier than the others.

The thing is, Connor pretty much trusts Abby with his life. Well, he'd have to, really, given the lives that they lead, what with all the prehistoric creatures trying to eat them on a daily basis.

But the other thing is, Connor pretty much trusts Abby with his heart too. That's not optional either, at least not in Connor's world. He was pretty much besotted the first time he ever laid eyes on her and he's just been sinking deeper and deeper with every day that he's known her since.

He'd die for Abby. No 'ifs', no 'buts', no 'ors'. No question. It should really sort of freak him out, but it doesn't. Because it's Abby, and Abby he'd follow to hell and back - has done, if hell is the future and demons are sort of big, walrus type things with freakishly long teeth and a taste for tasty girl flesh. Which, you know, is always possible.

So he loves Abby and he trusts Abby and he'd actually - probably - die for Abby, so he really shouldn't be freaked out about this. Right? In the grand scheme of things - cracks in time and space and dinosaurs in suburbia - this is actually rather minor.

"This okay?"

Abby's mouth is right next to his ear and the words are whispered. They still make him shiver, inside and out.


It's okay. It is. It's okay because it's Abby.


Abby's breath huffs over the curve of his ear and for a heart stopping second he thinks she's going to stop. He doesn't want that. He doesn't ever want Abby to stop touching him, not even... like that.

"What's the safe word, Connor?" The question's very patient and that's not Abby, at least not with Connor. He must be really freaking out if she's being patient with him, and he thought he'd got the freaking out thing under control.


"It's 'red' and I didn't say it."

"No." Her free hand settles on his back, warm and steady. He can feel the weight of it all along his body, little shivers running up and down his spine. "You didn't."

"I'm not going to," he blurts out, the words tumbling over each other even as his face starts burning. She doesn't laugh, thank God. Instead, her hand slides up his back, thumb stroking over his skin, calming him.

"Okay," she says mildly, and then her other fingers move, pushing further into him.


Okay, he hadn't actually meant to say that but the word blurts out anyway and Abby stops. Just stops.


"Don't be." Abby's voice is soft, still patient, and then she huffs, like she's trying to figure out what to do, what to say next. He keeps his eyes closed, fingers tight against the sheets. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." There's no hesitation, no doubt. This is Abby. There's no other answer possible.

"Okay. But it has to go both ways, Connor. That means that I'm trusting you to tell me when you don't like something. Okay?"

"I don't..." This is embarrassing. "It's not... It's just... weird."

"Bad weird or good weird?"

"Weird weird." Now she laughs, but that's soft too and... well, it was a stupid question and it's not like she's laughing at him anyway. "It's not... it's not bad," he reassures her. "It's..." He shifts a little, wriggling against the sheet and the movement pushes her fingers into him a little further. He freezes, but it's still not bad. It's just full and weird and maybe a little bit more than weird, but it's not bad.

His mouth is dry and he swallows, licks his lips. Pushes back a little further and Abby makes a sound this time, something both soft and sharp at the same time. His skin feels too tight, like it's tingling all over, especially where her fingers are resting against his back.

Especially where her fingers are pushing into him.

It's weird, but he might actually get to like it.

"You can..." His face is burning again and it's difficult to get the words out. "You can... if you want."

"Do you want?"

It's a loaded question and his face, if possible, gets hotter. He can't find the words this time, but he musters up enough courage to nod. A little.

"Okay." She's saying that a lot tonight. "Can you... lift your hips a little, Connor, okay?"

And again with the okay. He tries to do as she asks, feeling awkward and clumsy, and then her fingers are sliding in deeper and then -


Okay, that might be a little bit more than okay.

Abby laughs against his skin, her fingers still pressing where they're pressing, still touching whatever the fuck she's touching that makes him shiver and shake. It's not quite pleasure and it's not quite pain - what it is, is intense and... and...

"You want more?"

Yeah. He does.

She moves her fingers again, twisting them and he whines, deep in his throat, when they move over that spot again. It's like it's a short circuit; each time she touches it, his cock twitches, feeling heavy and swollen where it presses against the sheet. He reaches down to ease it free, and he's getting hard.

He wasn't hard when she started.

"Oh." It's Abby who makes the sound this time and he can't figure out why, but she pushes in more deeply this time, harder, and it unbalances him so that he has to let go of his cock, grab the sheets instead, steady himself as she twists those fingers.

He pushes himself up until he's on his knees, chest still resting on the bed. It can't be dignified - and, God, he does not want to know what he looks like - but it's easier, now that he's not mashed against the sheets.

He's about to reach down again when Abby's hand closes around him, strong and sure and, God. She's still pushing in, touching him there and pulling him off at the same time. It's surreal.

It's also really fucking good, and he whimpers again, torn between pushing back into her fingers or forward into the grip she has around his dick. He settles on a rhythm that gets him both, rocking his hips back and forth and now he really doesn't want to know what he looks like but, given the little sparks of pleasure that are shooting along his spine with each rocking motion, he really doesn't care.

"Do you want my mouth?" Her voice is a little breathless and he does, oh, God, he does, but when she releases his dick and twists around so that she's lying on her side beside him, head by his hip, he realises she hasn't understood him.

"No." He stops her, twisting his body awkwardly and bracing himself so that he can bring his fingers up to his lips. "Here."

She laughs and moves until she's laughing against his mouth, her breath sweet. It's beyond weird, now, Abby's fingers buried in his arse while she kisses him, close-mouthed and giggling.

"I think..." he murmurs against her lips when she pulls back a little, "I think I might not actually hate this."

She pulls back further so that he can see her smile, her raised eyebrow. "That right?"

"Uh huh."

She twists her fingers again, smirking when he curses, fingers clenching helplessly between the sheets. "Want me to stop? Try something else?" she asks sweetly.

"Fuck no."

She laughs again. "Connor Temple, the mouth on you," she teases. And then she grows serious again, her expression softening and she can stick her fingers anywhere she likes if it gets Connor that look on her face. "I think we should try something else, okay?"

Again with the okays, but he tries not to feel too disappointed - and how strange is that? - as she eases her fingers from his body.

"Roll over," she says, still looking at him like he's something special. "In fact... wait." He does exactly as she asks, as he always does, while she fusses with the pillows and the towel. When she's finished, he's on his back with the pillow under his hips, and he's already blushing again as she settles between his thighs.

She smiles down at him but there's no laughter on her face, not now. Her smile is warm, sexy, and he shivers a little as her hand skims lightly down over the inside of his thigh.

He stares at the ceiling as she slides her fingers back into his body, slowly, so that he can feel every inch of them slipping in, the fingers of her other hand still resting against the sensitive skin of his thigh. When he steals a glance down, she's focused on what she's doing, her expression one of concentration but she must be hyperaware of him because as soon as she feels the weight of his gaze she looks up and smiles. She stays looking at him, watching him as she moves her fingers again and finds that place she was looking for.

He doesn't swear this time, but his fingers clutch at the towel beneath him and he can't stay still, rocking into her touch again, his heels hard against the bed. When her fingers wrap back around his cock, he bites back on the whimper and closes his eyes, losing himself in that rhythm.

It's... it's tight and hot, and his skin still feels stretched, too taut, like it might tear. Her fingers twist, both inside him and around his cock, and he feels that too, all the way through him, aching and caught between the weirdness and the pleasure.

The pleasure wins out.

She keeps him like that, rocking like that, for long minutes. And then she lets go, catches hold of his hand instead of his cock, wrapping her fingers around his fingers until he squeezes hers back.

He thinks for a moment that she just wants to hold his hand, anchor herself, or maybe him, but she guides his hand to his cock, pressing his fingers open and then wrapping them around his aching dick, settling her grip loosely around them. He opens his eyes, catching her watching him again with wide eyes, thin blue rings around pupils that are blown wide and black. "Connor." She says his name like it's something new, something she's sounding out for the first time. "I want to see."

Oh. Oh. Oh, God, yes.

He loves Abby, he does, and he loves having Abby's hands on him, stroking him, touching him, bringing him off but when she does, the rhythm is always slightly off. It's not a bad thing, because it stretches the pleasure out, makes it last, but when it's his hand, he knows exactly what to do to make himself come.

He sets a fast pace, hand tight on his cock. She's still watching him, trying to match the speed of her fingers still shoved up his arse to the way he's touching himself. It's... he should look away - should be embarrassed to be watched so closely, but, even though his face is still burning, there's something really, really hot about the way she's watching him, hungry and wanting.

Her fingers twist again and he sees white, his fingers tightening involuntarily around his cock. He's not quite there yet, not quite, but her fingers are still in him, pushing harder, deeper, and he pushes back, hard. His hand's round his cock, her fingers are in his arse and... and...

And he's coming. And, oh Jesus. Her fingers are hard and unyielding, still in him, still pushing against that place and it just makes everything more. Just 'more' as everything, every muscle just clenches, including his arse around her fingers, until he's biting his lip so hard that it hurts, and it's a good hurt and every single inch of him feels like it's melting, or burning, or both and he's gone. Just gone.

She waits until he's stopped shaking before she eases her fingers out of him, and that's weird too but he's too wrecked to care. She kisses his knee, of all things, her hand slipping from his skin and he shivers, too sensitive.

She's Abby, so she's all efficiency as she peels off her glove, wipes the wetness away from his thighs and his belly with the corner of the towel, and then settles down next to him, all soft skin and softer smile.

"So...?" she asks, resting her head in her hand, up on her elbow, and peering down at him.

He closes his eyes for a second, still sees flashes behind his closed lids, and licks at his dry lips.

"So..." His voice is wrecked too, and he doesn't remember why, whether he yelled or cursed or even screamed when he came. "That... um..."

She laughs again, warm and joyous, and he cracks open one heavy eyelid to see her watching him with open affection and, possibly, a little smugness. She's probably earned the right to be smug. This was her idea after all, and he should know by now that Abby's ideas? Usually great ones. He should probably tell her that. In fact...

"I seem to remember something about someone buying a strap-on?"

The End.