mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,
mockturtle
hellblazer06

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

Just a wee snippet here to prove that I am writing, and I actually found a plot for more Alan and Billy adventures. This is out of sequence and just a teaser really so I'll dispense with the usual guff. Obviously it's rated MA for scenes of a sexual nature and obviously it's Alan and Billy. I just wanted to post because while it's probably not a first, I wanted to beat the rush for video phone sex. Yep, this little teaser for Part Two is brought to you by Vodaphone. No rights infringement intended.

Scene: Interior. Day. A local community hall is hosting a hastily thrown press conference to warn the local community to be alert but not alarmed that two velociraptors have escaped some rich twat's petting zoo and are now roaming the Highlands (cf Scotland's big cats).

Characters: Roddy, the local fisheries and wildlife officer who discovered evidence of the wee beasties, Dr Alan Grant who confirmed the tracks as velociraptor, Dr Billy Brennan, Alan's life partner who has ripped himself from his research in China to join Alan on this sortie, Captain McAlister from the nearby army base who is going to try and round up the beast with a few squaddies (can you say red shirts?) and Munro, from the local cop shop.

©©

Moments after Billy had left him Alan felt his phone start going off in his pocket. He eased up a hip from where he was sitting and fished for it in his pocket, pulling it out and flipping it open to see Billy on the screen, grinning at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. This couldn't be good.

"Where are you?" Alan hissed, fumbling the sticking of the earpiece into place and angling the screen away from the row of empty seats and microphones lined up beside him, ready for the impromptu press conference. Alan was still a technophobe at heart and his discomfort showed by the way he held the phone out, as though he had a snake by the tail.

"Close," Billy laughed softly.

By the look of it he was indeed in one of the toilet stalls at the back of the hall and Alan was beginning to uncomfortably wonder what the hell Billy was up to when Billy started unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, pushing the cloth open and running his hand down through the small dark honey coloured curls that swirled across his chest to lead downwards.

"Billy, not here," Alan hissed, squirming in his seat ever so slightly, making the chair creak a little, his face flushed with colour, but Billy was already sliding his hand into his pants, his soft groans vibrating through Alan's blood.

Alan twisted his body away from the row of still empty chairs, trying to breath as normally as he could as he watched Billy, who had rested the phone on top of the cistern, lean back against the door, head tilted back, bringing himself off for Alan's private pleasure over the phone network. It was such a subversion of the technology, and the very thought of it made Alan grin, and then hold his breath as Billy choked back a low grunt as he tensed for a moment, then spilt his warm seed into his hand.

Billy lay back against the stall door limply for a moment or two, eyes closed, then he gathered himself together, leaning close, face filling the screen, eyes bright, smile brighter.

"See you in a minute," he promised. Then the screen went blank and the call ended. Alan presumed Billy was tidying himself up and cleaning up. At least, he hoped Billy was washing his hand.

Billy emerged from the men's room in the far corner, alone in the empty hall, wicked grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

Alan felt his face still burning, and he burned a look at Billy, both threat and promise.

Billy grinned wider, if that was possible.

People started filing into the hall, in groups and singles, milling about, claiming seats, and Billy took his place beside Alan at the raised table under the hastily erected lights. Billy barely looked at Alan, but his proximity, the brush of his coat sleeve against Alan's heavy tweed for a moment, it said all that needed to be said. That and his still smug amusement.

Alan hadn't wanted the phones. Alan had hated the phones. Alan had vowed never to use the phones. Alan was probably having a minor rethink of his prejudices, especially if the way he was trying to subtlety shift about on the uncomfortable folding chair was any indication.

Billy made a deep study of the weave of the white tablecloth that had been thrown over the trestle table, trying to stifle a giggle, trying to ignore the looks Alan was sliding at him.

"I'll deal with you later," Alan whispered out of the corner of his mouth, causing Billy to chuckle openly.

Roddy, McAlister and Munro stepped up to the table and the boys were instantly chastened, heads bowed, remembering what was at stake.

McAlister tapped at the microphone, setting off a scream of feedback that made everyone wince.

"Right, let's get this started," he announced without fanfare as he sat down and all the lights, camera and microphones turned towards them.

©

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