mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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JP3 fic rated MA Mature adults only m/m slash PWP WIP #8

Another little snippet before the weekend. Dedicated to the dear friend who said she'd drop a house on me if I didn't finish this. Fair enough, considering my track record, and there's nothing like a little bit of gentle encouragement - grin.


No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended.
Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains adult themes
Title: Here there be Dragons
Series: Jurassic Park III
Status: WIP?
Author/pseudonym: Hellblazer
E-mail address:
Rating: MA
Pairing: Alan Grant/Billy Brennan
Date: 18 June 2003
Disclaimers: The characters of Dr. Alan Grant, Billy Brennan, et al. are the property of Universal Pictures, Amblin Entertainment and (in Alan's case) Michael Crichton. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred.
Warnings: may contain slash, H/C, violence, m/m hanky panky, drug use, nudity, coarse language, horror, dodgy research, adult themes
Spoilers: Jurassic Park III
Summary: Going out on a limb here, ahem, as the boys deal with the scars from Isla Surna.


Something rustled and scraped across the trailer and Alan eased the gun out of his pocket and flicked off the safety. Trying his best to keep both torch and firearm steady, he slowly tracked a pale circle of light up the side of the trailer and towards the roof.

Alan tilted the torch up slowly. Something above him flapped and rustled, dragging itself across the trailer roof with clawed feet.

He caught a flash of glittering, beady black eye and an enormous leathery wing and a huge, fearsome beak before it launched itself off the roof and swooped down towards him.

Alan staggered back, tripping over something behind him, dropping his torch and falling flat on his back, all the while firing wildly up into the night sky. He must have hit it somehow because it let out an unholy shriek and broke off mid swoop. It flapped up into the air like an enormous bat and then took off in low, loping arcs as those enormous wings worked up and down, gaining airspace as it went.

Alan could only see a black shape against the night sky, but he could feel and hear the wind displacement, and he was ready to testify to something larger than any owl or bat he'd ever known.

People had scrambled out of their tents, gathering around Alan, demanding to know what was going on and why he was firing off a gun in the middle of the night. An intuitive few had thought for a horrible moment that the thing with Billy had come to a head, but as they and Alan saw, Billy was standing on the top step of the trailer, leaning against the open doorway. Billy looked like he was going he was going to be sick again, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Billy's eyes sought out Alan's, asking the burning question: did he see it?

Alan had to shake his head, sadly.

"It was dark, I dropped my torch," he sheepishly indicated the torch that had rolled a few feet away from the trailer, now directing a steady beam of light towards the front wheels.

He saw Billy slump, and felt he had to add something.

"There was something there. You weren't imagining it." But as to an actual identification, Alan couldn't say. It had been dark, he'd only seen it for a second, and he wasn't sure his own mind and Billy's fears weren't playing tricks on him.

"Nothing, just scaring off a couple of owls," Alan tried to explain, and the crowd drifted away, most complaining that Dr Grant was becoming increasingly eccentric in a wild eyed and crazy way in his old age.

Alan endured the slights to his sanity, preferring them to think of him as dead drunk and trigger happy rather than shooting at imaginary pteranodons in the dark.

He stumped up the steps to where Billy waited, switching of the torch and putting the safety back on his gun.

"That's new," Billy observed, noting the firearm in Alan's hand.

"For protection," Alan admitted, earning him another look of accusation from Billy.

"You didn't see it," Billy sulked, his arm crossing his chest again.

Alan's grey eyes sought out Billy's, tilting his head so he could make eye contact.

"There was something there, and I know what it looked like." Alan saw Billy's hand clutch almost convulsively at his shoulder.

"I didn't get a clear look," he tried to placate Billy. "But I think I hit it," Alan grinned. "Tomorrow we'll have a proper look, in daylight. It's gone now, whatever it was. Come back to bed now."

He hooked his arm around Billy and led him back to the bedroom at the far end of the trailer, through the folding plastic door that always hung limply open, useless. Alan had half expected Billy to spend the remaining hours before dawn tossing and turning and listening for rustling wings and scrabbling feet across the rooftop again but Billy still had those three sleeping pills in his system. Alan had held him in his arms, rocking him gently back to sleep, and once the spike of adrenalin had left his system Billy had just gone out like a light, a dead weight against Alan.


Billy was up bright an early, jigging around slightly with his headphones on as he leant against their trailer's excuse for a table, having excavated a newspaper sized clearing in the mess of stacked books, notes, tools and samples.

This wasn't the behaviour Alan had expected, and he suspected more than coffee had Billy so bright and alert this morning, especially after last night, but he said nothing.

He caught Billy from behind, leaning up against him in an embrace that spoke volumes about Alan's need for contact after everything that had happened last night. Alan was hard and demanding attention, wrapping his arms around Billy, nuzzling at his neck with grizzled stubble and unhooking one earplug, getting a blast of something unpalatable in his face for his troubles, making him scowl and grouse, much to Billy's amusement.

It had nothing to do with the twenty two years between them. Alan had hardly been what you would call hip when he'd been Billy's age, so he found it all a bit foreign and intimidating. No, Alan was just wasn't the sort to hang out at nightclubs and the like, and he often wondered if he wasn't cramping Billy's style. Not that Billy ever gave him reason to think so, other than the usual mild teasing at Alan's expense.

Billy was leaning back in Alan's warmth and they swayed together momentarily, Alan's slow burning heat warming him from the groin up. Billy was enjoying this. Alan's arms around him felt good, really good, and Alan's insistent nuzzling was really turning him on. He leant forward, bracing himself against the table. He felt Alan trying to pull him back towards the bed, the old romantic, or at least two steps across to the couch, but Billy wanted it like this, a good fast fuck standing up.

To make his point Billy turned around quickly in Alan's arms, pushing him up against the wall with an audible wallop, kissing him hard while pulling Alan's jeans open one handed, as they'd both slept in their clothes, what little sleep they'd grabbed.

Alan returned the favour, rewarded with a hiss against his throat as his hand slid over inflamed and sensitive skin.

Another grinding kiss and Billy turned around again, leaning back into Alan, twitching his hips up and down, rolling back onto Alan's sturdy arousal.

Alan was now totally with Billy in what he wanted, bending Billy over the table and taking him with force enough to make everything on the table shake, rattle and roll off onto the floor with clatters and clinks. Alan grazed the back of Billy's neck with unshaven kisses and whispered harsh, filthy words in Billy's ear, punctuating every one with another thrust, making Billy cry out loudly.

"God, Alan, yes, there, fuck me, more, harder, stick it in me, oh, fuck, yes..."

Billy trailed off into half sighing grunts as he shot into Alan's hand, sinking across the table. He felt Alan clutch at him tightly, which meant he'd come, and then, with one last kiss on the back of his neck, Alan was drawing away, tucking himself in, zipping himself up and looking slightly sheepish.

If he was going to ask Billy if he thought anyone had heard Billy was going to laugh in his face. At this hour of the morning, after Alan shouting, running about and firing shots into the sky last night, of course they would have heard.

Billy didn't care. It'd do them good to see Alan the way Billy did, as an impossibly exciting and virile man, his experience a tang Billy could taste, his gruffness even more of a turn on and a challenge to get past.

Billy took Alan's face in his hands and kissed him, slow and sweet. Alan returned the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle and hold Billy there, making it last, until at last Billy came up for air, slightly distracted, and Alan glanced down at last to what Billy had been doing before he'd been so pleasantly interrupted.

Billy crouched to sponge up the evidence of their transgressions with a tissue while Alan dispassionately sorted through Billy's photographs with a fingertip.

Billy threw the tissue away with an arcing toss, stood up beside Alan and picked out a couple from the pile he'd been meaning to show Alan.

Alan's hand ran in soothing circles up and down Billy's back as he looked over the photos, and Alan would never know just how much it meant to Billy, just to have that touch.

Billy couldn't imagine his life with anyone else and he didn't want to. He loved Alan so much. Alan meant everything to him. That's why it hurt so much when Alan's temper was turned on him. Billy normally escaped Alan's wrath, enduring only his withering sarcasm, but that moment, over the eggs, it had utterly destroyed Billy. Alan had taken the love away and glared at him with terrible anger and worse: disappointment.

He might as well have struck Billy for the terrible body blow Billy had taken, and when Billy had stepped up onto the wire fence, in that one look back, there had been burning wounded pride and anger towards Alan, as well as unspeakable heartbreak.

It was over and gone now. He was leaning against Alan, deliciously morning warm and sexily scented Alan, still smelling of sweat, semen and cordite, and Alan was tracing absent-minded patterns on the back of his t-shirt. It was gone, but never forgotten.

Alan's hand stilled as he studied the photos but it remained resting on the small of Billy's back, under his t-shirt, skin against skin.

Billy needed that touch: it was his talisman against the monsters. It kept him calm, it kept him centred. It was keeping him sane, otherwise he was sure he'd go mad, knowing the damn things were out there, just waiting for him, knowing how thin steel was no protection against the things that went bump in the night.

Billy was sorted out the three photos from the pile that he'd really wanted to show Alan.

"Look at the damage. Our creature, whatever it is, there's more than one. They're hungry, and the kills have escalated." He glanced up at Alan. "They've got hungry mouths to feed. There's a nest."

"I was afraid of that," Alan looked pained.

"Shouldn't we tell someone?" Billy asked. "At the risk of seeming foolish and seeing escaped dinosaurs under every stone, shouldn't we say something? These things hunt people. They kill people. They know how to and they've got a taste for it."

Alan met his eyes.

"They're not after you."

"How do you know? They found me here, how do you know they haven't been hunting me?" Billy's eyes demanded answers Alan couldn't give him.

"They're not after you," Alan had repeated. He'd been hunted by velociraptors across the island but he was willing to lie to himself. He dearly wanted to believe that these creatures did not hunt like that, they did not carry grudges and they did not want revenge for the death of a mate, even though he knew of species of birds who did just that.

"We need proof, Billy. We need some definitive evidence that what we have here is indeed a terrible flying lizard. Otherwise we're right up there with Bigfoot hunters." He laid the photograph down. "This isn't enough, not yet.""We're gong to need a bigger net," Billy agreed wryly, arm folded across his chest.


Alan leant the aluminium ladder up against the trailer and tested it. He was about to go up it himself when he found Billy's arm blocking his way.

"I can go up," Billy insisted, and Alan knew better than to argue.

He stood back and let Billy pass, watching him climb, his metal arm clanking against the ladder with a dull ring at every step.

Billy climbed easily and quickly in spite of his handicap and ignoring the way Alan hovered and held the ladder for him below. Reaching the top he balanced on the rung, swinging his camera around to take a photograph.

"See anything?" Alan asked.

"Not really," Billy had to admit. He twisted around and caught Alan gazing up at him.

"You see anything you like?" Billy teased, flashing dimples down to him.

"Just admiring the view," Alan answered whimsically, still gazing up at Billy. The moment the words left his lips Alan realised he sounded exactly like the old queen he'd become. Here he was, openly flirting with Billy up a ladder. Between this and shooting at nothing in the middle of the night the other students must be thinking his mid-life crisis knew no bounds.

"Arise, fair sun," he began expansively, and Billy giggled, turning away, trying not to encourage Alan.

Billy was picking at something on the roof.

"There are scratches and gouge marks," he called down. "But they're not distinctive. They could have been caused by anything, like a low lying branch. It's not like when that Spinosaurus tore the plane open like a paper bag."

"Thank god," Alan agreed, with deep feeling.

Billy came back down the ladder steps, shrugging off disappointment.

"Why do I feel like I'm Mulder, chasing after imaginary monsters?" he sighed. "Too bad you didn't bag whatever it was last night. A carcass would be proof, and a nifty trophy," he grinned.

"You're taking this well," Alan observed, somewhat surprised, and still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"So long as I'm just nuts and seeing and hearing things, it's cool." Billy flashed him another dimpled smile.

Alan didn't want to wipe away that smile by saying anything about his own doubts, so he left it unsaid. Billy seemed convinced in the light of day that he'd been seeing things, but his fear had transferred itself to Alan.

Alan had seen something last night, and he couldn't swear on a stack of Bibles that it hadn't been one of InGen's escaped livestock.

"Insanity isn't catching, is it?" he had to ask.

"Every study so far has suggested it is, they just don't know how."

"That very reassuring," Alan grumbled, seeing amusement dancing in Billy's eyes.

It was only then that Alan noticed Billy was actually wearing a t-shirt. It hung loose on him, not at all like those tight t-shirts that he used to wear, the ones that had traced every line, and hadn't he just known it, and the sleeves now were long enough to cover where steel joined flesh, but it was a t-shirt nevertheless. Either Billy hadn't noticed what he'd pulled on this morning or he was growing more comfortable with the way things were now. Alan hoped so.

"You frightened the life out of me last night, you know," Billy interrupted his thoughts. "I didn't know you even had a gun."

"Didn't think I'd ever have to use it."

"Why do you have it?"

Alan grew serious. "You're not the only one jumping at shadows these days."

Billy nodded. The moments when Alan had left him in the trailer and gone outside had been one long silent scream. Billy had wanted to follow but he just could not make himself move. Instead he'd sat huddled on the bed like a baby, hiccupping and shaking in absolute terror as something had dragged and scraped itself across the thin roof, the very stuff of nightmares. Then Alan had started firing wildly and Billy's fear of losing Alan had propelled him towards the door, just in time to see Alan picking himself up sheepishly from the ground and whatever had been spooking them long gone.


Breakfast was an entirely casual and drawn out affair as everybody much preferred gathering over coffee to discuss the night's disturbance rather than working. Billy, bless him, had defused the situation somewhat by sitting in on a hand of poker, the cards sticking up rather comically from his metal hand, drinking coffee, sharing a cigarette and telling them all that Alan had been taking pots shots at the family of rats who'd been trying to move into the trailer.

With Dr Grant not known for his patience at the best of times, people had nodded and sympathised with Billy for having to put up with such an impossible old grouch.

Billy flicked Alan a wickedly cheerful grin over the tops of his cards and Alan knew Billy was just loving this, painting Alan as a dreadful ogre who paid him below subsistence wages and treated him like dirt for free.

It was all true of course, Billy just neglected to mention the few perks the job came with.

A sudden shrieking whinny from his adopted horse made Billy's head snap up. At that same moment the tent shook with a sudden gust of wind. Billy stood, cards forgotten, and both he and Alan saw the monstrous shadow fall across the tent, moments before the terrible sound of tearing canvas filled their ears.


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  • My tweets

    Fri, 13:02: Ooh, I've this one 😍 Fri, 13:08: RT @ MarcDavenant: San Carlo Restaurant in the snow, New York in…

  • My tweets

    Thu, 12:42: RT @ SketchesbyBoze: I just want to know where they're going Thu, 17:26: RT @ WellyParanormal: Fan of…

  • My tweets

    Wed, 20:11: You can't tell on old cheap phone pic, but the moon was going full Bunnymen tonight. I've had a miserable day and my socials are…