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: complete 1/2
E-mail address: firstname.lastname@example.org
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, sex scenes, 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 a year later.
Notes: Apologies to the boys, Bruce Campbell, Joss Whedon and James Cameron. Shameless hack work to get this finished, I'm afraid.
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 clawed 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.
Like the sex, the great, mind-blowing sex, though how anyone could not see what was written clearly in his smile every time Billy grinned up at Alan, well, Alan just didn’t know at times.
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.
It descended on them like a demon, snapping and ripping at them as it ripped through the canvas and swooped down, making a deliberate dive for Billy, who just stood there, staring at it as it lunged for him, unable to move.
It was Alan who moved, pitching himself forward across the tent with speed that would even surprise him upon recollection, tackling Billy and knocking him down, rolling him under him and holding him there, protecting him. The animal caught his shoulder, claws like a grappling hook digging and slicing through his flesh, but Alan wouldn’t move. He felt it smack the side of his head, hard, so hard he heard the crack of bone, but still he wouldn’t move.
Something smacked flesh above him. It was the other students, fighting off the monster with picks and shovels and anything else that came to hand. He felt his skin tear again as it let him go and rose up, hovering for one dark moment, glaring at all of them, before spreading its wings, flapping and driving itself up and away from the weapons that poked at it.
It wheeled off over the rise of hill but Alan didn’t care. He was still holding Billy and he wouldn’t let him go until someone prised his hands loose. He was dragged back, slammed in a chair and his shirt torn open, exposing the bloody rents on his shoulder.
Alan didn’t care, he didn’t even feel it. All he could see was Billy, crouching on the ground, shaking slightly, staring at nothing.
Billy couldn’t hear, see or feel anything save the roar of his pounding heartbeat in his head. Thud, thud, thud, over and over again, the sound of the Spinosaurus chasing them, the brush of a leathering wing against his skin, the shriek of an animal that meant to kill him.
Billy was lost to the world, trapped in a nightmare. Billy was lost to him.
It was the smell of blood and antiseptics that must have done it, even though Alan was barely paying attention as his shoulder was washed out and a thick bandage pressed against it.
The torn flapping sides of the tent billowed in and out with a sudden snap, and Alan suddenly remembered all too clearly the jolt of the helicopter and the high pitched electronic screaming beep of the alarm that meant Billy's heart had stopped. That sound had kept cutting through him like a knife. He could hear the medics yelling to each other over the rattling noises of the helicopter but he couldn't look around and that damn alarm just wouldn't stop. He could see the Kirbys staring at the way his white knuckles gripped the edge of the seat, the greyness of his face, the way he was barely breathing. When that bloody alarm had stopped for a moment, to be replaced by the shaky pips of Billy's heartbeat, his eyes had welled up with unshed tears. Then that damn alarm had gone off again and he'd been so sure that Billy was dead, and he had been, but they'd managed to get him back, somehow. Billy just wouldn't quit: it wasn't in his nature.
Not then, and not now. Billy was still crouching on the ground, and Alan thought the boy must have shut down entirely at the sight of that dreadful thing, but Billy suddenly switched back on again, glancing up at Alan, meeting his eyes, a decision made. Alan didn't like that look. He'd seen it before and he knew what it meant.
Billy snatched up a geological pick from the scattered tools, hefting it for weight, then he began strapping it to his metal and plastic arm with gaffer tape, round and round until it was bound securely. He snapped off the tape with his teeth. Like hell was he going down to that beast as an easy kill. Not again.
It had caught him by surprise. Everything had been normal, he’d been safe, then it had been there, and it had nearly killed him. It had nearly killed Alan.
It was at that moment that Alan glanced up from watching them try to bandage the bleeding rents on his shoulder. He saw the heavy pick dangling from Billy’s arm, and had an inkling of what Billy intended to do.
"Billy?" he asked, but Billy just met his eyes with that reckless, determined look. The 'I won't let you down again' look. The look that had something to prove.
"Billy -" Alan shook his head in horror. Not again. Not now.
"Billy - no! Billy - wait!" Alan pushed people aside, forcing himself to his feet and raced out of the tent but Billy was already astride the horse, a shotgun slung over his shoulder.
"It came here for me and like hell am I going to let it kill anyone else before I finish this." With that Billy wheeled around and galloped out of the camp.
"No." Alan wasn't going to be held back this time while Billy sacrificed himself. He wasn't about to lose Billy a second time. He threw himself behind the wheel of his 4WD and drove out after him, but Billy's horse could climb places the 4WD couldn't, and Alan was forced to fall back, helplessly, pounding the steering wheel in frustration.
Billy had been dead when the chopper had landed on the carrier, and they'd been working on him furiously when they'd lifted him off. The Ambassador had gotten in Alan's face but Alan had just pushed him aside, racing to the side of the ship and retching. He could manage nothing but dry heaves on an empty stomach. He’d leant heavily on the side, feeling so weak and nauseous, barely able to stand. If they thought it was just the ride on the navy helicopter that had knocked him around, so be it. He was waiting to be told Billy was gone forever.
Thank god he'd had the chance to make things right with Billy. Thank god for that, at least.
He'd slumped against the ship like a legless drunk, and that's when the Kirbys had run interference for him, keeping everyone away until Alan had recovered himself a little. They knew now what Billy meant to him. They knew and they were sorry.
Alan had turned away, staring out to sea, blinking away the tears. It had been the worst day of his life.
He wasn't about to go through it again.
He slammed out of his truck and turned round to see the ranger driving up towards him in a cloud of dust and flashing lights.
"Have you seen it?" was the first thing she demanded of him. “I heard over the radio –“ She saw the blood that stained the bandage through the rents in his shirt.
“Are you okay?”
Alan didn’t care, quite frankly.
"Billy's gone after it," he pointed over the hill. "Get your bloody shotgun - now."
He twisted around, squinting at the sky, trying to make out a shape against the horizon. Somewhere over that hill his lover was fighting, and probably dying, all alone.
“Come on,” Alan chivvied the Ranger angrily, impatient. In his rush he’d forgotten his own gun and he needed hers. Again the thoughts came unbidden that this was the day he would lose Billy. It didn’t seem fair, not when they’d wasted so much time flirting and playing games, Alan denying his desire until Billy had finally made his move, almost as the last act of their play, giving Alan one last chance to take what was being offered.
They had been lolling around on the dusty couch in the trailer, taking it easy after a long, stinking hot day. In fact they were so relaxed they were almost horizontal, the small mountain of empty beer cans rising beside them proof that Billy's birthday had not gone unobserved.
"Twenty one today, and never been kissed," Alan teased, somewhat in his cups, toasting Billy again with a half empty beer can that sloshed around.
Billy grinned, all dimples and wicked eyes. "I wouldn't say that."
On impulse he turned, leant into Alan and brushed a kiss lightly onto his lips.
Maybe it was surprise or the fact that he was more than half pissed but Alan didn't move or turn away, so Billy cupped Alan's face tenderly, kissing each lip in turn and then gently licking those lips until Alan opened up to him and he stroked his tongue inside. Alan groaned and grabbed at him, suddenly returning the kiss with a fierce passion.
For something that had taken forever to get started, things had suddenly started moving very fast. Billy had taken Alan's hand and rubbed it over his growing erection, to show Alan what he did to him, so Alan would know he was sincere. Alan's palm pressed down over him possessively, and it was Billy's turn to groan in pleasure.
As they came up for air Billy pulled off his t-shirt so Alan could touch him all over, skin to skin, because he wanted Alan to feel the heat of his skin. Billy turned another kiss on Alan, gradually pushing Alan back against the couch. His hand rubbed over Alan, Billy purring as he appreciated the promised size through the cloth of Alan's jeans.
Alan was lost to sensation, letting Billy nuzzle at his throat and ease the buttons of his shirt open, one by one, Billy kissing his way in a measured trail down to Alan's belt buckle. Billy pulled Alan's belt free and unzipped his fly without too much fanfare. Billy had wanted this for far too long and he wasn't about to waste time and give Alan a chance to catch his breath or change his mind. He pulled Alan’s underwear out of the way and got down to business.
Grinning wickedly he licked along Alan's length like it was an icecream and watched Alan twitch. He guessed it wasn't the first time Alan had been given head. Billy still intended to make it worth his while, licking and sucking and teasing until Alan was twisting and turning on the couch and begging him to just get on with it. Billy licked his fingers slick and went in and Alan came loudly and violently in a shuddering orgasm, seeing stars.
Billy spat out the taste of rubber and sat back, still grinning, guessing no one had done that for Alan before.
Alan was watching him through half open eyes, asking a question. Billy just leant forward and kissed him, lying down along the length of Alan, sharing the couch, playing with the open buttons of Alan's shirt.
"Go to sleep, Alan," Billy spoke quietly, and snuggled against him, and they slept.
As a first time it had lacked candles and music, hearts and flowers, fireworks and fanfares, but all those things had been in Alan's heart the moment Billy had kissed him, and they still were, ready to burn, every time Billy smiled at him. He couldn't lose that, not now, not ever.
Alan grabbed at tussocks of grass and started pulling himself up to the top of the hill, but he knew it was hopeless. He’d never catch up on foot. They’d have to go around.
He scrambled down again, shaking his head at her questions.
“Drive,” was all he said.
Billy tore across the plain, horse and rider alone, galloping hard and fast. There was nothing else around as far he could see. Everything was in hiding, as if sensing the unnatural horror that had returned to the badlands, riding the wind currents, swooping down on prey.
Billy felt it, his animal instincts kicked in just a second before he felt the air slam down around him.
It screamed down over them, snagging at his billowing shirt with its claws. This time it caught only cloth and air but its second strike knocked him bodily from his horse.
The horse ran away screaming in fear across the barren landscape, kicking up dust but the pteranodon ignored it.
Billy rolled over onto his back, dazed, just in time to see it flapping above him, angling down to strike. Instinct alone brought his metal arm up just in time to block that terrible beak as it stabbed down at him like a sword.
Alan felt trapped as the Four Wheel Drive lumbered clumsily over the uneven ground. He glared out of the window, feeling helpless, the claw marks in his shoulder starting to sting and ache. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop thinking of his life with Billy, and how much it meant to him. Even on the island, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Billy. He couldn’t stop now.
He’d caught Ellie watching fondly over Billy as he rolled and played boisterously with her boys.
"You're thinking it's a shame he'll never have children of his own. It's alright, I saw that look," he smiled at her.
"It's only because he seems such a natural."
"The reason Billy gets on so well with your boys is because he's still a child himself," Alan dismissed, a little unkindly.
"Alan," Ellie shook her head, bemused, knowing his bark was worse than his bite.
"Besides," Alan cocked a sidelong look at Billy, "Who knows where he might have sown his oats. He was a wild child, that one."
"Alan," Ellie rebuked again.
"Well, he's only been mine for a couple of years now. Before that it was a strictly summer fling thing, and god only knows what he got up to at Berkeley. Or gets up to." Alan added, unable to keep the sour note of jealously from his voice.
Billy was only living full time with Alan in Montana now because Alan needed to keep an eye on him, to make sure he was all right. He'd already had to rush Billy to the emergency room once, not from complications from his injuries but because Alan had come home early, worried that Billy wasn't answering the phone, and he'd found Billy curled on his side in the bathroom, unconscious. It was the ER intern who'd picked it up - Billy had been prescribed an anti-depressant that was known to cause suicidal tendencies as a side effect. When Alan had been told, legend had it that his reaction could have been heard two counties away. After that Alan had kept a much closer eye on Billy and his medications, trying to ween him off them, one by one.
Alan still felt the arrangement was a temporary one, rather than a new phase of their relationship, and it pricked at him.
"I was always frightened that he'd call one day and tell me he'd gotten some girlfriend pregnant and that'd be it. I mean, look at him, the women must be throwing themselves at him and I, well, there's no fool like an old fool."
Alan mulled over his teacup and Ellie snorted in derision.
"Alan, for fuck's sake. That boy clearly thinks the sun shines out of your arse and he worships the very ground you walk on. He adores you, Alan, and you need to start wearing your glasses all the time now if you can't see that."
Alan ignored her slight, still considering Billy, a part of him still waiting for that phone call, the one that would take Billy away from him.
Ellie, however, was like a dog with a bone and she wasn't about to let Alan's insecurities fuck up what he obviously had.
"He brought you eggs," Ellie reminded, and Alan's jaw tightened. Ellie was having none of it. "He knew velociraptors were your life's work, he stole those eggs because he thought you'd appreciate them. They were love tokens, Alan, and you threw them back in his face," she reprimanded, and Alan had the good grace to look shamefaced.
"If I had someone who loved me enough to raid a dinosaur's nest for me, I'd hang onto him with both arms. I'd hold onto him because a love like that, it's a rare thing in this world, Alan."
She was right. Billy had never meant for Alan to be hunted by those things. He hadn't known, hadn't imagined what would happen. He'd merely acted on impulse, as silly young men in love are wont to do, because he'd thought Alan would want the eggs, could use the eggs. No wonder Billy had looked so hurt and confused when Alan had refused his gift. Damn it. No wonder Billy had sacrificed himself, the romantic young fool.
"Don't lose him, Alan," Ellie pressed.
Billy looked up and grinned across to Alan, oblivious to the conversation about him.
Alan saw it shining plainly on Billy's face. After everything, Billy still loved him.
“He's so beautiful," Alan murmured, and Ellie blushed slightly, not used to hearing such sentiments from Alan.
Alan sipped his tea, content just to watch Billy. "He's...amazing."
"Yes, he is," Ellie agreed.
"I love him," Alan murmured.
Ellie glanced sharply at Alan, surprised to hear his heartfelt admission.
Alan smiled over the rim of his cup. "After all, like you said, He raided a raptor's nest for me - it must be love."
Damn it, he wasn’t going to lose Billy. Not now. Especially not now. Not after everything.
“Drive faster,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
Billy had managed to swing up with the pick, trying to bat it away, catching the pteranodon in the eye and blinding it. A second strike and third had torn through wings, Billy scrambling to get up as he defended himself while it pecked and tore at him ferociously.
Billy had lost the shotgun when he’d been thrown from the horse but he still had his pick and his metal arm which was harder for the animal to bite through than flesh and bone had been. It had flapped over him, scraping and gouging and stabbing again and again until Billy had finally wounded it enough to ground it. Getting unsteadily to his feet he was finally on the offensive and he brought his pick down heavily.
It seethed angrily on the ground, striking up with beak and claws but Billy kept pounding down on it with the pick. It thrashed out at him with its beak and knocked him back on his arse and tried to crawl away but he just pulled himself to his feet and swung down again.
"Fucking die," Billy demanded of it, swinging down again, this time his pick crunching through bone and flesh and finally the creature fluttered and then lay still.
Billy stepped back a little, not willing to be fooled again, waiting for the creature to struggle back up but this time as it laid there it stayed there.
He heard the 4WD roar up over the rise and turned to see Alan and the Ranger running towards him. He let his pick drop by his side and grinned at them, smeared in his own blood and the pteranodon's.
St George had finally vanquished the dragon.
The 4WD had rocked over the rise and Alan, wanting to close his eyes against what he knew he must see, saw instead Billy alive, Billy standing, Billy triumphant. For the third time now Alan had been surprised by Billy’s survival.
The first time had been at the fence, a happy reunion cut short by the Spinosaurus who had also been hunting them across the island. The second had been on the helicopter, when Alan had been so certain of Billy’s death. He’d seen the blood in the water, all that terrible blood, and had heard Billy’s screams. After the shock had worn off he’d resigned himself to the fact and his grief, while plain to the Kirbys, had been one of quiet reflection rather than howling lamentation.
It was something even Eric Kirby had picked up on: Alan kept his emotions to himself and it did him no good not to let those he loved know just how deeply he cared for them. It was a flaw he’d vowed to overcome, and as if to test his new purpose, Billy had been returned to him and Alan had put on a display of deeply restrained emotion enough to make a US Ambassador blush.
It didn’t matter though. Billy knew and they didn’t really need words to say what was most important. Just look and a touch, a lame joke and a fond tap on the tip of Billy’s nose, that was all that was needed. It was silly and trivial but Billy had been out of it and Alan had been overcome and in that moment, it had been everything.
Billy was still hacking into the body over and over with the axe when Alan finally caught up to him, almost doubled over with relief that somehow Billy had survived another foolish act. Definitely reverse Darwinism.
"Billy - enough - it's dead," Alan felt he had to point out, still somewhat breathless with worry.
"Just. Working. Out. My. Issues!" Billy cried exhalant, bringing the axe down heavily with each word.
"Yes, agreed, but wouldn't you rather have something left to compare this specimen with the fossil records? I can't do that if you grind up its bones to make your bread."
Billy thumped down the axe one last time, taking his revenge, and stopped.
"You're right," he gave in to Alan's logic, somewhat breathlessly from his efforts. "Sorry."
"It's alright," Alan smiled at his gory, blood splattered lover. "You deserve a little recreational therapy."
"I can think of better recreation," Billy prowled huskily, still sparking brightly with life, heart pumping, eyes shining, skin flushed. He came closer, holding Alan's eyes with a predatory gleam.
Alan reached out to keep Billy at arm's length, in spite of the arousal that was suddenly flushing through his blood. "You're covered head to foot in pteranodon gizzards," Alan complained primly.
"Just the way you like me," Billy purred, pressing up tight and close to Alan, wrapping around him and kissing him hard.
Billy was hugging him impossibly tight, but he did not kiss him. Not in front of the world's press that circled them in a news helicopter at least. How they’d gotten there so fast Alan had no idea, unless they’d been scanning radio frequencies and had heard the Ranger’s pleas for assistance and backup.
Billy's hot breath brushed against his ear and he heard Billy whisper: "I want you to take me home and fuck me, fuck me hot and hard until my bones shake. I want you to ride me hard until I'm screaming your name. I want you, I want you inside me."
Billy jerked his hips into Alan's for emphasis, and Alan squeezed him tight right back, nearly ready to come right there and then.
Billy pulled away slightly, smiling, teasing, eyes dancing, playing momentarily hard to get. Alan supposed they were just working their way through the four F's of basic animal behaviour: flight and fight, and now having survived the first two they were onto feasting and fucking. Alan was hungry and Billy looked positively ravenous, ready to devour him on the spot, as well as looking slightly insane with his eyes still wild and the dripping rock pick still half dangling from his metal arm.
Alan didn't care how dangerous his lover looked. Alan wanted nothing on this earth the way he wanted Billy, and only an ingrained sense of decorum and an equally learned need to see Billy's kill properly preserved for further study kept Alan from rolling Billy on the ground and fucking him right there. There would be no doubt that their somewhat battered trailer would be slamming back and forth as soon as the bare minimum had be done to preserve order.
Alan was still unwilling to let Billy go entirely, still holding him loosely in his arms, still needing to hold him, to touch him. Alan tried to wipe away the smudges of blood from Billy’s face, concerned that not all the blood was from the pteranodon.
Billy suddenly tensed in Alan's arms. Every muscle in Billy had frozen and when Alan drew back a little he could see Billy staring over his shoulder in horror.
Slowly, Alan turned and saw what Billy could see: an enormous dark shape swooping out of the sky, making a dive at the helicopter that dared to hover in its airspace.
"There's a mate," Billy mouthed helplessly.
The news crew never saw it, too busy filming the carcass Billy had staked out on the ground. It flew straight at the helicopter, furious, smashing in through the window, tearing into the pilots and controls and both machine and beast had tumbled from the sky in a twisting, tangled battle.
Alan had thrown Billy to the ground, trying to cover him as the helicopter slammed into the field, skidding across it, blades, glass and metal shearing off flung about, flames erupting from it.
Then the helicopter just rocked to a stop, flames rolling up from it, burning everything. They scrambled to the wreckage, shielding themselves from the heat with their hands, but there was no one to save.
The canopy of the copter creaked and groaned as the flames devoured it, and then through the flames a dark shadow rose up and crawled forward. A hellish vision, wings burnt and broken, it drew itself up to its full height and lumbered towards them, stalking across the ground, malice in its eyes.
Billy stared in horror as it kept coming straight for him, relentless, pushing its way free from the wreckage.
Stop. Just make it stop. Billy pushed Alan back behind him and grabbed the shotgun from the Ranger's numb fingers. He walked forward, just not caring any more, slamming the shotgun down hard with one hand to chamber the round, firing, reloading, firing again, over and over until the bloody thing just stopped where it was. Even that wasn't enough. Billy chambered the shotgun once last time, took careful aim, eyes cold down the barrel, and blew the creature's head to dust.
Alan stood quietly beside Billy, taking the shotgun from his hand. He could hear the sirens bumping across the terrain to reach them, though there was nothing left to be done.
Billy turned to Alan, suddenly thinking of nests, when he noticed the red stain smeared across Alan's shirt.
"Alan," he frowned. "You're bleeding."
Alan glanced down at his blood stained shirt, and felt the unbroken skin underneath. Only his shoulder had been gouged, and it was well bandaged.
"Billy?" He saw the blood that was dripping from Billy's pick was running down his metal arm, following it up to the dark patch that was spreading across his t-shirt, just above his heart.
"Shit, I thought it just punched me," Billy wondered, looking down at himself. He looked across at Alan and just crumpled to the ground.
"Billy!" Alan fell to his knees beside Billy as three truckloads of emergency services roared over the rise, lights flashing, a motorised cavalry, too late.
"Billy, no," he pleaded, tearing off Billy's shirt and wadding it against the wound.
It had been a deep goring, stabbed hard from a beak thrust forward like sword and then dragged back diagonally across Billy chest as the creature had flailed and attacked in its death throes. Twenty centimetres of stitches later and Billy had survived, with a new scar to add to his collection.
The nightmares had eased, though Billy had still spun around when somebody had loudly unfurled and flapped an umbrella behind him, shaking off the rain. Once they were inside the cloying warmth of the seedy little bar and sitting in their booth Billy was all smiles again. Summer was nearly over and Billy would have to begin work on his thesis in earnest, but for now he was happy to be here, working with Alan, wrapping up the site for another year.
Billy had decided to write his paper on pteranodons, comparing the InGen creatures to fossil records and other known species, past and present. He was uniquely qualified to comment on the animals, and Alan had preserved his 'trophy' for him.
Alan had been worried a little, at first, when Billy had discussed his ideas with him, fearing that it would reopen barely scabbed over wounds. Billy had persuaded him that exposure was how they cured arachnophobes and having the creature dead and laid out on a slab, well, it kept everything within a scientific framework and well within Billy's comfort zone.
It also meant Billy wouldn't be treading on Alan's particular field of study, or have to revisit the painful incident of the eggs, so that was well and good.
Above all Billy seemed more and more like his old self.
Alan was simply content to watch as Billy sawed through the most enormous steak Alan had ever seen. Billy had the fork clutched in his claw, cutting away with his right, chatting happily as he went. Alan wasn't really listening, he was just content to sit and gaze upon his beloved.
Billy's appetite had retuned, all his appetites, Alan mused, watching Billy devour another hunk of barely warmed meat, the way Billy liked it.
Billy had finally slain his dragon, three confirmed kills in fact, represented by the three kill stickers Billy had spray painted on the side door of his beat up old student car. Knowing now that he wasn't a coward, that he could fight the monsters and survive if it had to, it had given him a sense of peace.
Those long hours Billy had spent hiding up in a tree, dripping wet, shivering and bleeding, cowering from the creatures that had sniffed around below it, it had haunted Billy for the longest time. Billy had spent the whole night cowering up that tree, shaking like a frightened child. He'd tried to bandage up his arm with what was left of his shirt but he was torn up all over and his blood had dripped freely down the tree. Beasts came and snuffled and snorted and occasionally scratched at the tree and tried to climb up it, but he still had his metal bar to club them with, and he'd climbed up as high as he could. He'd clung to that branch all through the night like a terrified monkey. He'd never been so scared in all his life, and he knew he'd remember that fear for the rest of his life.
Finally he'd had the chance to prove himself in battle, and he'd beaten back the nightmares. Billy had earned his red badges of courage. Things would never be the same but Billy had regained that spark that had been missing for so long.
Alan sipped at his drink, delighted to watch that spark dance in Billy's eyes and play across Billy's lips.
Billy caught his eyes, flicking him another smouldering glance under those lashes, teasing as usual.
Billy wasn't about to curtail his dinner to satisfy Alan's other cravings. He was enjoying himself and the night would wait. Besides, food was one of the oldest forms of foreplay, and Billy wanted to savour every bite.
Alan let the scotch in his glass spread the warm glow in his stomach throughout him, enjoying the sweet sensation. He knew it wasn't over, he knew he still had a job to do. He knew he had work harder to get those damn islands shut down, in spite of what those misguided PETA fools might think. It had been proven time and time again that the islands weren't secure and couldn't be patrolled. Animals had gotten off the island one way or the other and they simply couldn't be allowed onto the mainland. Some twit with more money than sense would bring them back for their private zoo, if they hadn't already, and they'd end up like Britain with all those big cats prowling the countryside, only worse.
With no natural predators, other than each other, it'd be an environmental disaster, like cane toads, only far more deadly.
For a man who had devoted his life to dinosaurs and their preservation, he was now equally devoted their extinction. They'd had their time, and he wasn't about to let them take back the planet.
But those were thoughts for later. For now he had Billy flirting wildly across the table, and that was all Alan cared about right at this moment. He could see Billy's plans for tonight sparkling in Billy's eyes, and he felt the heat spike in his stomach in anticipation. No, nothing mattered more than being with Billy right now.
He remembered what Ellie had said to him over the phone: "He brought you raptor eggs and a dead pteranodon. You have to marry the man now."
Alan wasn't about to do anything so silly but he was going to offer Billy the next best thing: he was going to ask Billy to stay with him, for as long as Billy wanted or needed to. Forever, if he liked.
Billy was half curled over him, muscles moving in a soft symphony, brushing his lips over the skin of Alan's back and shoulders as he embraced him, holding onto him.
They lay curved together in the bed, Billy was inside him and it was incredible and they rocked back and forth slowly like a bottle washing up and down a beach on an ebbing tide. He could feel Billy's breath on his skin, the tickle of Billy's hair as he stroked another kiss along Alan's arm. Alan reached back and trailed his hand along his lover's flank, feeling Billy move under his fingers.
He could stay like this forever, with Billy inside him, loving him. There were no words, just sighs of contentment as Billy's hand tightened around him, Alan feeling him push a little deeper. There, just there.
This was everything Alan wanted and needed: Billy's touch upon his skin, the whisper of Billy's voice, their skin, golden and sliding together in the flickering candlelight like two coiling serpents. They rolled together, lost on the waves of desire, content to float on that ocean, forever.
In the morning Billy would still be there, in his arms, all sleepy and tousled haired and smiling at him. Billy wasn't going anywhere. Billy had finally stopped falling away from him.