Trigger Warning; This story contains descriptions of toxic behaviours and the aftermath of Sexual abuse. If you are at all uncomfortable around these topics, please do not read
Also, I do not own Primeval, or any of the main characters including, Connor, Abby, Stephen, Becker, Jenny, Cutter/Nick, Lester, Tom, Duncan, Helen
this takes place in a weird universe where Stephen did NOT die at the end of season 2, so this is currently beginning of season 3 with Stephen.
Stephen woke up to a blinding headache and no recollection of what had happened last night. Therefore, it surprised him to see Connor Temple, a student of his friend and mentor, Nick Cutter's, cuddled up next to him. He had never really given much thought to the boy. He seemed impetuous, capricious, and a little childish. He also swore that the kid was after Abby, which was why it surprised him even more to take not that both of them were completely naked. Stephen raked his eyes over the body in his arms, who was still wearing his fingerless gloves, and was taking note of a few worrying details; his pale face, the fading bruise and old scar around his neck, the rising bruise around his skinny upper arm, when he had the sudden urge to vomit.
He tried to get out of bed as carefully as he could, so he didn't wake the student, then ran quietly to the bathroom and shut the door. He reasoned that he had decided to down a bunch of alcohol without the intake of food, then engage in exercise. Which made him even drunker than just the alcohol, if he had decided to have it with food, and the exercise on an empty -alcohol laden stomach- made him sick. It took a while for that undesirable aftereffect of alcohol poisoning to wear off. By the time he looked at his watch, it was roughly the time to start getting ready for work. So, he got up, took a shower and finally left the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to wake the sleeping kid in his bed.
What he was surprised to see, however, was that he was gone. The bed was made, his used clothes were made and sitting at the foot of the bed, and the living room was spotless. He went into the kitchen to see if Connor was in there. He wasn't. all that was there were 3 large bottles of whiskey that had been carefully rinsed and set aside, two smaller bottles of vodka that had likewise been rinsed and set aside, and a single can of cider that was also rinsed and set aside. He guessed that Connor didn't know where his recycling bin was, if he did, all evidence of their night together would have already been erased. Considering he noticed that he had also started the wash with what he recognized were his sheets and duvet cover. The boy had literally tried to erase his existence from the flat. Stephen looked closer at the bottles of alcohol that were rinsed out and recognized all five. They were from his collection. Most of them had only had a single pull or a dozen mixed drinks left in them before last night. They were a bunch of different brands. From many different places he had traveled to. He sighed. He got that bottle of Whiskey from Nick, it was actually Scotch Whisky. He was pretty mad at himself for deciding to finish it at a point when he couldn't remember anything.
Then he noticed a note that made him feel incredibly confused. This on top of everything else. There was something wrong that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was only two words, he didn't even sign his name. it was just written clearly "Nothing Happened" at the bottom the newspaper which he seemed to have gone out to buy, because he didn't get the news delivered, and was right next to two tablets of paracetamol and a glass of water. It was also written in pencil, which he had to had to great lengths to find as opposed to the many ball point pens in a cup by the telephone. This was supposed to be able to be erased.
Something about all this troubled Stephen. This wasn't natural behavior. As humans we have evolved to want to leave a mark. That is our evolutionary trait. It doesn't matter if it's a large mark, but any mark that is recognizable. To someone. This was learned behavior. Someone had clearly taught this kid. And apparently enough for it to be engrained into him long after they had stopped seeing each other. Stephen suddenly thought back to the marks he had noticed that morning on Connor's body and felt a mixture of sickness and fury. What had happened in Connor's past to make him devalue himself so much? Wait. He suddenly thought. Some of those cuts and scars looked pretty fresh.
Was all this really in the past? He knew nothing about the kid outside of working in the ARC. The only thing that he talked about was either work related (or tangential), or about some show or comic or book or conspiracy theory. He never talked about his life. The only thing he ever told Stephen was how he ended up at Abby's. And that was only because Stephen found out by accident. He never explained the reason he needed to stay though. Not really.
Stephen decided to start watching the student closer in the meantime. His instincts told him that confronting him would just make Connor panic. So, he decided to wait and watch. See where he goes. Be a silent protector for the time being.
Connor hurt. He just hurt. And for some reason the ache in his chest that felt like a 10kg weight was sitting on it wasn't feeling any lighter. Normally a vicious shag would help. It has done in the past. So why does he just feel worse? He felt like his instability was increasing since Tom died. People normally said that grief passes with time, but since Tom died 8 months ago, he had found it harder and harder to keep his persona alive. And the half-life between his punishments was getting smaller. He shouldn't have answered the phone last night. Not the second time.
Connor didn't move as he felt Stephen stir. He wanted to wait until the older man got into the shower, so he could make his exit. As had been drilled into him. It was what was expected, he was just sorry that he couldn't do it before Stephen awoke. It would have totally kept him in the dark, but no, there wasn't time. He felt the sheets move and sensed Stephen's eyes on his naked body. Dully, he wondered why Stephen was even looking Thankfully it didn't last that long. It seemed Stephen didn't enjoy the sight (Connor knew he wouldn't, he is a man, Stephen likes women), because he got out of bed and padded down the hall. He heard vomiting in the toilet and a voice in his head said to him over and over, "disappear". He sighed and sat up. Then he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and blink back his tears. He shook out his arms and his head as if to clear it. Then got up and winced. His back hurt and was wondering if any old scars or injuries opened up when the lab tech pounded into him last night. He had also noticed as he shook out his arms that his right forearm hurt immensely, while his left one was incredibly sore. He looked down at his arm and saw his own bite mark cutting deep into the flesh. Then he rotated his left arm a bit and remembered, Stephen had grabbed onto it and pinned it behind him when they were going from behind. No use just sitting and wallowing, he told himself, things to do. He looked around for his pants, and put them on, uncomfortably realizing that Stephen never used a condom. Deal with it later, he told himself. He finished getting dressed and stripped the bed of sheets and duvet cover. Anything that pointed to their sexual encounter the night before. He took them to the kitchen and put them next to the wash.
Then he made his way to the living room and gathered up all the bottles of alcohol that had been consumed the night before. And his single can of cider that he brought over. He removed the caps and rinsed each out carefully, sadly noticing the bottle of Scotch Whisky Professor Cutter had given Stephen the Christmas before among the empty bottles. There wasn't anything he could do. Most of them had already been consumed by the time he had been called. When he finished, he looked around for a recycling bin, but there was nothing in sight. So, he placed all the items neatly by the sink. Then he turned his attention to the sheets. He found each one of the stains made by them and scrubbed thoroughly with soap and water under the faucet before, one by one, placing them in the wash. He had to spend longer on the fitted sheet because there were blood stains on that one, and he was never very good at washing out blood. He finally placed the final sheet into the wash and started it as he heard the shower start in the bathroom. He went back into the bedroom, rummaged around until he found another set of sheets, and made the bed, found Stephen's clothes and folded them, and placed them carefully at the foot of the bed. Then he quickly and efficiently cleaned up the living room. He had brought some paracetamol with him, which he removed a few tablets from the packet, went back into the kitchen and placed on the counter. Then found a glass and looked in the refrigerator for a water jug. He found some plastic water bottles, so he grabbed one, smelled it, and filled the glass, setting the glass down next to the tablet.
He looked at his watch it was 6:30, and they needed to be in to work by 9. Abby normally got up by about 7. So, he needed to hurry up. He grabbed his coin purse, and Stephen's keys, and hurried out the door. Found a vendor selling a newspaper, and came back in record time, relieved to hear that Stephen was still in the shower. Connor then rummaged in his bag, pulled out a pencil, put the keys back where he found them, and went back into the kitchen with the paper. He placed the paper next to the paracetamol and the water, wrote on the bottom "Nothing happened" just to reassure the man that he wasn't expecting anything, made sure he had everything he came with, grabbed his bag, and ran out the door just as he heard the shower stop.
It was exactly 6:55 when Connor snuck through the front door of Abby's apartment. He just reached his room when her alarm went off. "I call the shower first!" She yelled up to him, and he groaned assent just like he would every other day of the week. He was thankful that she decided to go first. It would give him a chance to further decide how to deal with what went on. He went to their toilet, the one without a shower, and took off his trousers and pants. He would need to wash both right away if he was going to keep them, he assessed. Then he took toilet paper and tried to wipe away the thick substance running down the back of his legs. His stomach started to hurt. And not just from stress.
Connor tried to clean himself out as best he could, but he was right before when he thought that there had been some damage done. it made it difficult to do on his own, and incredibly painful. It had been a while since this sort of thing was necessary. He had gotten slack, started trusting people again. That was a mistake. He sighed and stood up. Put his pants back on and grabbed his trousers before carefully opening the door to check that the water in the shower was still running. Then he ran back up the stairs to his room. He heard the water turn off and stripped himself of the rest of his clothes, besides vest and pants. Looked through his drawers to find something as "Connor" as possible, careful to choose something with long sleeves, placed them all neatly on his bed, rummaged in the back of his sock drawer for a cream special for these occasions, and was placing it in between the layers of his clothes when he heard a chirp from above him and he looked up. Rex was on the rafters, looking at him with quizzical, almost concerned eyes.
"It's fine, Rex," he said, trying and failing to give his regular innocent and dimpled smile. "Dontcha worry 'bout someone like me." he grabbed his towel and was about to leave the loft when he muttered "I've had worse". Then he greeted Abby with a nod as she left the bathroom and took his turn.
"HEY! You should get ovr heer" said a very drunk voice on the phone, as soon as Connor picked up
"Stephen?" Connor said, slightly worried about the intoxicated nature of his coworkers tone, but also secretly happy at being asked over to his flat "Are you alright?"
"Waii… is this connor?" Stephen asked, slightly surprised through his intoxication. "What are you doing there?"
"You called me" Connor replied his heart sinking lower than it had been before.
"Wrong person" Stephen said nonchalantly "Bye" and hung up.
Connor was heartbroken. For the first time he had let himself crush on someone. He had actually been nursing a small crush on the older student of Professor Cutter's since the first time he saw him in the lecture hall. He decided he wasn't worth having someone care about that way and forgot about it until they started working in the on the anomalies. Then the feelings started coming back. But stronger, because he started to see how strong, fearless, smart, and sophisticated Stephen was. But he knew it would never work. So, he tried to get interested in Abby. Or at least seem like he was. While it's true that he was technically bisexual, he leaned more towards men than women. And toward Stephen over Abby. Really, advice on Abby was just an excused to talk to Stephen about something other than work. He still didn't really think he was worth having someone care of him like that, but he was good at pretending. It was all he knew since middle school. But he did enjoy Abby's company, and being around her. She was becoming his best friend. But he didn't really see her as anything more. So, when Stephen called that night, he had risen Connor's hopes up, and then brought a hammer down on them. Now Connor needed a drink. Or a shag.
He finished up his work for the night at the ARC, grabbed his back, made his way to a pub in SoHo he was once a regular at. One that Tom had pulled him away from. The same one he had started frequenting more and more since his death. He pulled open the door and grabbed a spot at the bar in recesses of the corner. A drink was put in front of him and he looked up at the bartender. "Your usual" the bartender said with a wink.
"Thanks, Phil" Connor said, giving his pale cider a sip.
"What's wrong chickadee?" said another man, taller and thinner than the last, coming over and leaning on Phil's shoulder.
"Nothing" Said Connor, giving a brilliant imitation of his usual smile. Phil's eyes were on his though, and soon the smile slipped. Phil looked slightly concerned. Connor gave a large gulp of his cider, then shook his head to clear it, and smacked his face. Then he gave another brilliant smile "Really, nothing."
"Connor!" Said a loud voice as the door opened. The large man who just entered came over and put his arm around Connor's shoulders "Last week was the best shag I had ever had!" Connor had frozen at the sound of the large man's voice. His eyes like those of a deer in the headlights. "Rob," the man turned to another man who came in with him "Wasn't it great?"
"We should do it again!" The other man, Rob, said sniggering. He addressed the rest of the group and said loudly so the entire pub could hear "This kid will do anything you want, and shag anyone, last week there were four of us!"
"Get out of here Bernard" The taller of the two Bartenders said. "and take your cronies with you, you know we don't approve of that behavior."
"Shut it, Liam!" Hissed another one of the big man's friends, "you can't talk, you used to be the sluttiest lay in the joint"
Phil wrapped his arm protectively around Liam's waist. "You and your friends need to leave my pub Bernard." He said firmly. Phil was stocky, and 100% muscle. One of those kinds of guys you don't want to mess with. He may be shorter than you, but he was in the army, and it showed. He proudly showed off his bullet wound and dog tags as a sign that he would do whatever he needed to protect what was his. And it was very clear that Liam, was his.
Connor just sat there, looking down at his fingerless gloved hands that were clutching his cider, not moving. Not pushing Bernard's arm off his shoulders, not contradicting anything that was being said about him, just frozen. "Let's go, Connor," Bernard pulled the boy with him and Connor let himself be led away. Bernard rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a few pounds, held it up to Phil "for the drink" he smirked then left it on the counter and made his way out of the pub, pulling the student with him. "We are going to have some fun tonight, aren't we?" Connor briefly glanced up with pleading eyes at Phil and Liam before flicking them back down with a wince, as Bernard squeezed his upper arm tighter and whispered in his ear "you are mine, remember that."
Phil and Liam looked at each other wondering if they should intercede. Then Connor glanced at them one last time and gave them the smallest shake of the head before being pulled out of the pub by a man twice his size and a half dozen of his cronies.
Bernard had pulled him into an ally way and started to take his trousers off when Connor's phone rang. Connor pushed himself away from the big man for the first time and looked at the caller ID.
"Connor?" Stephen said over the phone
"Is it me you want this time?" Connor asked wryly
"Thisss is your numbr innit?" Stephen chuckled, obviously still very drunk. Connor didn't say anything "please, comeby night. talk?" he said questioningly.
Connor sighed and pulled his hat over his eyes for a second, then straightened up. "Sure, of course, I will be there in twenty minutes- Don't drink anymore!" he shut his phone and felt a hand on his upper arm again and remember where he was. Shit. He turned around with an apologetic smile and said "Sorry, guys," Connor held up his phone. "Work thing. Can't do anything about it." Then he wriggled out of Bernard's grasp and ran like hell.
It was lucky he was fast. And had stamina. And was smart. Because those fucking cronies were persistent. They weren't the brightest bulbs in the flower sack though. He was able to ditch them by doubling around and taking a train or two in either direction out of the way. Since Stephen's flat was really only about a 5-minute walk from where he had started, with all the running and doubling back, and trains, he finally made it there, after making a stop to pick up a cider, exactly 20 minutes after he hung up the phone. He was pretty proud of himself. He was completely out of breath by the time he showed up at Stephen's front door though. He took a few deep breaths and tried to steady himself before knocking on the door. He still had no idea why Stephen was drunk in the middle of the week, but he figured, he would find out.
Connor's breath hitched in his throat. The door opened to a grinning SHIRTLESS Stephen, who dragged him through the door and gave him a huge hug. A hug that picked him right up off his feet "CONNOR!" He said happily. "You came!" the student nodded and tapped where he could reach.
"I can't, breath…" he gasped as Stephen looked down at his face. The older man let him go quickly.
"Sorry!" Stephen said sheepishly. His face was red from all the liquor, but he was relatively steady on his feet. All things considered. "No one else would come" he gave a large pout.
"Well, you gave me a chance to get away from, never mind" He mumbled, seeing Stephen wasn't really listening. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked with a false brightness.
Stephen lead him to the living room where there were four empty bottles of liquor scattered all over the floor. Connor took of his shoes, and dropped his bag by the entrance, grabbing his can of cider before following him.
They both sat down on the couch and Stephen put his head in his hands. "You think I'm pathetic, don't you?" he asked, looking straight at Connor, incredibly articulate for someone who had had that much to drink.
"Why would I think that?" Connor asked, seriously
"For being manipulated by someone like Helen Cutter." Stephen said as he grabbed another bottle that was almost empty and brought it to his lips.
Connor put his hand on Stephens, catching the hand before it could put bottle to lips. "You have had too much to drink" he said gently. "That's enough. And, no, is the answer." He said. "Kind people trust easily. It's in our nature. I mean, your nature. Both you and Professor Cutter were deceived by her. It's not easy being the one on the side of the manipulated. You feel like you can't trust anyone now, because one person who you genuinely loved with all your heart let you down so callously, someone who you thought you knew, who you understood, now you doubt. You are doubting everything, everyone, even yourself, right? You blame yourself because you should have seen the signs." Stephen stared at him as he talked, Connor flushed "No," he said again "You are not pathetic, you are a kind, empathetic, and trusting person. That's why Helen chose you. Don't let her change that about you" Stephen leaned forward and kissed him. The hand without the bottle wrapping around Connor's neck, pulling him in close, lips locking together.
Connor was startled, but his heart flew as Stephen kissed him. Well, he's not drinking anymore, Connor thought to himself as he took the bottle from Stephen's hand absently and placed on the coffee table, then ran his hand through the older man's hair while he licked the man's lips hesitantly. Stephen obliged and shoved his tongue into the younger man's mouth while he pushed Connor's hat off his head and ran a hand down his back, a small moan escaped Connor. Conner sat on his knees next to Stephen looking like he wanted to climb into the older man's lap, but restraining himself, instead he expertly unbuckled Stephen's belt and trousers, putting one hand into his pants and started to stroke the rock-hard member between the ungloved forefingers. He pulled away from the kiss, and immediately wrapped his mouth around the large cock in his hands.
Stephen felt too good to question the kid's odd combination of techniques and mannerisms. The lab tech came the first time without even noticing what happened. He just saw Connor sitting, as if waiting for instruction on what to do next. His eyes were lowered, and hands together as if bound in his lap, some cum still on his face. There was a nagging concern within Stephen that he couldn't quite place at the moment, due to lust and intoxication. Instead he grabbed the boy by the wrist and threw him on the bed. Almost as if this was expected, Connor got up went to his bag, and grabbed a bottle and ran to the bathroom, after five minutes he came back out, undressed completely, moved the duvet carefully so it wouldn't get dirty, and posed himself so he was on his knees, facing away from Stephen with his head down. An ideal angle for the older man. Stephen was too hard to think about it much, instead, he undressed as quickly as he could, positioned himself behind the kid, and dived in fast and raw.
It was tight and wet. He could hear muffled moans and cries from the kid whose eyes, he noticed, were shut tight, tears slipping through. As he thrust hard in and out, it seemed that it was feeling better, for him and Connor, there weren't any muffled cries anymore. He leaned over his back to put his head close to Connor's and saw teeth clenched on his arm. "Shh, hey hey, it's ok." He said in Connor's ear trying to pull the arm away. But Connor shook his head as he rocked his hips to Stephen's rhythm. Stephen turned Connor over, but Connor grabbed a pillow and hid his face, the other hand covering his own hard on. Covering it, Stephen noted, but not actually touching it, as if covering it from sight. But he also noted that the hand covering the smaller man's hard on was the one with the bite mark, so at least he wasn't still biting it.
The muffled moans were amazing to Stephen's ears. He wanted to hear them louder. He had a feeling though that wouldn't happen. He wanted to see if he could try though. He changed position again pulling the kid up into his lap. "Connor," He said gently "Grab me around the neck" He said, leaning the student against him and trying to pull the pillow away. Connor desperately shook his head. Stephen tried the bitten arm, still in between them. He tried bringing it up to wrap it around his neck. It was as though Connor had locked it in place. Stephen tried moving gently. Slower. He could hear the breath hitch in the pillow, and saw tears pouring from his eyes. Finally, frustrated, he turned Connor around again, so his back was facing Stephen once more, took advantage of the relaxing of the arms, grabbed the arm with the pillow pinned it behind his back and pushed him back into the bed. Connor didn't object, nor did he cry, or struggle. He let Stephen do what he like with him, until finally Connor passed out. It was only then that Stephen noticed that the kid kept his gloves on the whole time. He also started noticing some scars that looked suspiciously like whip marks covering his back. Of course, he saw the scars from the injuries at the ARC. But there were more. A lot more
As Stephen collapsed next to Connor, and pulled him close, pulling a sheet over them, he started thinking. He always thought of Connor as a very innocent kid, possibly a virgin. Obviously, he wasn't the latter, but, while he may be innocent, it looks like he may have had a darker past than anyone realized. A sudden fury lit in him while he looked at the student who was unconscious in his arms. The traces of tears ran down Connor's cheeks. He wiped them away with a soft thumb. He was suddenly feeling a protectiveness over him that he hadn't felt before. His head was still swimming from the alcohol, so he wondered if he would remember any of this when he woke up. He hoped so. He had been with men before, as an experiment in college, but he always considered himself mostly straight. He also never expected to fall in love again. Especially after Helen had broken his heart. But somehow, it was as though Connor knew exactly what it was like to have trust manipulated. As though he could empathize. Everything he said was so exactly right. He hadn't been sure why he had kissed Connor at that moment. Was it pity? No, he hadn't pitied him. He just, understood. Completely. Having someone use you, let you fall in love with them, then use that love you feel for them to manipulate you so completely. Had something like that been done to him to? He wasn't sure what to do now. He just liked the feeling of Connor in his arms. So, he curled up, and went to sleep.