fredbassett

Title : When the Devil Drives
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Stephen/Nick, Stephen/OCs
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Warning: This is for the hooker AU square on my Denial bingo card, so I imagine you can work out what that entails. There are some references to slightly rough sex.
Summary : Stephen needs to earn the money to pay his way through university.
A/N : Thank you to lukadreaming for the beta.

The sound of an air-raid siren dragged Stephen out of a dreamless sleep.

He rolled over, grabbed his mobile and swept his finger across the screen before turning the alarm off and dropping the phone back onto his bedside table. He flopped back onto the pillow, one arm across his face to keep out the last of the late afternoon sunlight. He really needed to change that bloody alarm tone.

The clock next to the bed told him that it was 5pm and he’d slept for nearly eight hours. If he didn’t linger too long in bed, he’d have time to go for a run, get something to eat, followed by a shower and still arrive at work on time.

Stephen rolled over, wincing at the tenderness in his arse. His last punter had been hung like a sodding horse and as enthusiastic as a horny teenager. He was going to have to take it easy today, but after that, he hoped he’d be able to have a few evenings off while he concentrated on his coursework for a while. That bloody essay wasn’t going to write itself.

Pounding the pavements dressed in a sloppy teeshirt and a pair of scruffy shorts, enjoying the last warmth of an early autumn day, he was soon sweating freely and swigging from the water bottle in his hand. By the time Stephen got back to his bedsit, he was very definitely in need of something to eat and a shower in that order. Microwaving a large bowl of porridge only took a couple of minutes and with the addition of a spoonful of honey it was actually pretty palatable, even if having the same thing most days did get pretty dull.

The shower was tepid. The electric heater ate money, and Stephen didn’t exactly have much of that to spare, so hot water was a luxury he tended to do without. A small dollop of shampoo was enough to get the sweat out of his hair and he rubbed shower gel over his body, noting the bruises on his hips from the previous night’s activities. He’d certainly been ridden hard and put away wet, but the bloke had paid well, which was all that mattered at the end of day.

When he’d finished, Stephen dried himself off, then reached for the tube of lubricant he’d left on the top of the toilet cistern. He squeezed some out onto his right forefinger, then put one leg up onto the bog and reached behind to work the gel into his arse. He winced as his finger probed his slightly swollen hole. Mr Enthusiastic had definitely made his presence felt. Stephen worked more lube into himself, on the principle of better safe than sorry. It was Friday night, and there were bound to be a couple of quickies in the bogs. He needed to make sure he could take it.

When he’d got as much as he could up his arse without being in danger of leaking everywhere, Stephen wiped himself clean, washed his hands and got dressed, wearing a pair of old, faded jeans that hung low on his narrow hips, and a loose black teeshirt.

It was time to go to work.

* * * * *

“Twenty quid.”

Stephen looked at the bloke in amazement. “I’m not a sodding charity worker.” He jerked his head in the direction of the large, tattooed man behind the bar. “His cut’s 20. If you want a fuck, it’ll cost you 70. I’ll blow you for 50 if you’re short of dosh.”

The man looked him up and down as if he was a racehorse in the paddock. Stephen leaned back on the bar and hitched his teeshirt up a few inches to scratch an imaginary itch, showing an expanse of taut, tanned skin. There was no way he was letting anyone fuck him for less than 70.

“Seventy it is. But you’d better be worth it.”

From behind the bar, Max laughed. “Oh, he’s worth it, mate. Got an arse tighter than a virgin’s cunt. If you don’t enjoy it, your next drink’s on the house.

Stephen led the way into the bogs and made straight for the end cubicle. When he’d first come into the Black Swan – known to its clientele as the Mucky Duck, for obvious reasons – he’d wondered why the hell the owner had gone to the trouble of installing disabled facilities, but he’d soon learned why the extra space had been needed, although he doubted that a wheelchair user had ever been within a mile of the place.

As the bloke pulled the door closed and locked it, Stephen flipped open the button on his jeans, eased the zip down and then slid the faded denim down over his hips.

“No pants,” the punter said approvingly. “Dirty little bugger.”

Stephen turned to face the wall and braced himself on his hands. Over his shoulder, he said, “Wear a rubber or the deal’s off.”

The man pulled a foil packet out of his pocket, ripped it open with his teeth, pulled his semi-erect cock out of his loose cord trousers then skinned the condom on quickly, stroking himself to full hardness with a couple of quick tugs. With one hand holding Stephen’s hips in position, the man nudged the head of his cock between Stephen’s arse-cheeks and then started to push inside.

Stephen drew in a slow breath and forced himself to relax. The head of the man’s cock quickly breached his sore arse and then with one hard thrust, the bloke shoved in, ball’s deep, grunting with pleasure. Stephen closed his eyes and pushed back. He had a reputation to maintain, even if this was the last thing he felt like doing, but he needed the money and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Two large hands gripped his hips, pressing down hard on last night’s bruises. “Got yourself ready for me, did you?” the man said, his breath hot against the back of Stephen’s neck. “Did you enjoy fingering yourself, pretty boy?”

“Yeah, felt good,” Stephen said, as the punter pulled his cock all the way out and then slammed in again. “Just like this…”

He’d heard the door to the bogs open a few moments ago, and he knew Max would have been selling tickets to the show for 20 a pop. By now there were probably at least two blokes out there, hands on their dicks, listening to the squelch of the punter’s cock pounding his arse. Stephen let out one of his patented filthy groans and pushed back, squeezing down as hard as his sore muscles would allow.

The punter’s hands gripped his hips even harder and his thrusts started to get uneven as the man fought to maintain a rhythm.

Stephen rolled his hips slightly and ground them back against the man behind him, before pulling forwards and then bucking his hips backwards, fucking himself on the hard dick. It was the punter’s turn to groan now and Stephen knew he wasn’t going to have to put up with this one much longer. The bloke had given up any pretence of being the one in charge now and simply let Stephen take control of the encounter, snapping his hips forward and backwards as the man panted in his ear.

Another groan would be good for trade… Stephen clenched the muscles in his arse as hard as he could around the bloke’s dick, drew his hips slowly forward until he felt it slip out of his hole, then pushed backwards. Wash, rinse, repeat twice more and the bloke let out a long moan that meant Stephen could charge half as much again next time and the bloke would still think he was getting a bargain. A moment later, the hands relaxed their grip and the punter’s now-softening dick slipped out.

Stephen composed his features into a smile and looked over his shoulder.

The bloke stepped back a pace, breathing heavily, red in the face from effort.

“Told you I was worth the money,” Stephen said, pulling the condom off the bloke’s dick and chucking it in the corner. Max went berserk if anyone dropped them in the bogs. They played havoc with the Mucky Duck’s antiquated plumbing. He tucked the man’s now-flaccid cock back into his underwear, pulled up the zip and turned him towards the door. “See you again,” Stephen said.

“Yeah…” the man agreed, before pulling open the door and stepping out.

He’d no sooner gone through the door when another bloke stepped inside. This one was built like a brick shithouse, wearing a black wife-beater teeshirt that showed off the tattoos coiling up both arms. He held a slip of paper up between finger and thumb that said PAID, with Max’s indecipherable squiggle underneath, along with a date and time, so the receipt couldn’t be re-used.

“Hi, Terry, how’s it going?” Stephen said, not even bothering to move away from the wall. His arse was still slick enough to take it, even though Terry could top Mr Enthusiastic from last night in the size stakes. This was going to hurt, and the night had barely got started.

“Good, mate,” Terry said, fishing his cock out and rolling on a condom without needing to be told. “The wife’s sister’s down for the weekend, so I’ve been kicked out on me ear for a bit.”

“Given a tenner and told to go to the flicks?”

“Something like that,” Terry agreed. He guided his cock to Stephen’s loose hole and said, “OK, mate?”

“Go for it.”

This time the stretch was harder to take, but Stephen held back any noise. Terry was one of his regulars and for all the fact that the bloke looked like a right bruiser, he was actually nothing but considerate and he’d be horrified if he thought Stephen was in any pain.

Terry slipped his large hands around Stephen’s waist, moving slowly and carefully at first, pushing in all the way to the root, then stroking gently in and out, managing to cant his hips slightly so that his cock slid over Stephen’s prostate, sending a small jolt of pleasure through his nerves.

“Thanks, mate, that’s nice,” Stephen said as he pressed backwards. Terry had discovered entirely by accident what happened when he pushed in at a particular angle, but since then he’d done his best to make things good for Stephen. It was a rare courtesy from a punter. Terry wouldn’t win any prizes for finesse, but he was a sweet bloke, and that was what mattered.

The whole thing never lasted long. Terry came with a quiet sigh and a squeeze of his arms around Stephen’s waist, then slipped free to dispose of his own condom, wrapped in some bog roll, in the bin in the corner of the cubicle.

“Thanks, Stephen,” he said quietly. “Was it OK?”

Stephen turned around, careful not to trip himself up, and gave Terry a quick hug. “It was great. Thanks. I hope Mrs T appreciates you…”

Terry gave him a shy smile. “It’s her birthday on Monday. Takin’ ‘er out for a meal, an’ all. Goin’ to get ‘er some flowers as well.” He rearranged his underwear and zipped his trousers up. “Buy you a drink in the bar?”

Stephen smiled and nodded. He’d done two punters in quick succession, as well as providing a wank-fest for a couple of others. He was due a drink before he started on a few blow-jobs. It would give his arse a well-earned rest.

Leaning against the bar, sipping the pint of cider Terry had bought for him, Stephen glanced around the bar, wondering who his next punter was going to be. He’d already let Max know it was blow-jobs or hand-jobs only for the rest of the night or he wouldn’t be able to sit down for a few days. The landlord had just shrugged and told him that it wasn’t a problem. Apart from Terry, most of the regulars seemed to be absent that night, and Max never had an issue laying down the law to the clientele about what was on offer.

When he’d finished his drink, he turned a few quick tricks, tugging a couple of newbies off in less time than it had taken him to sink the pint. The first came almost immediately, shooting into the condom before Stephen had even hit his stride. The second one took a bit longer, but not much.

The final bloke for the evening shuffled in, eyes downcast, looking everywhere but into Stephen’s eyes. He was 40-something, with dirty blond hair standing up on end in places, wearing what looked like an old greenish-grey army jacket. Stephen had seen him sitting at the end of the bar most of the night, drowning a procession of whiskies, shooting the occasional furtive look in Stephen’s direction. He’d lay a pound to a pinch of shit that this was going to be the guy’s first time.

Stephen smiled at him in an attempt to put the bloke at his ease. Palming a condom, Stephen sank to his knees in the confines of the disabled bog and got down to business. The man’s baggy trousers hid a half-hard dick that looked almost as embarrassed as its owner. Stephen took it in hand and gave a gentle squeeze. It twitched in his hand and started to fill. As soon as it was hard enough, Stephen rolled the condom on slowly, stroking it into place, then bent his head and took the man’s cock in his mouth.

A gasp that mingled surprise and pleasure made Stephen glance up. From the way the punter had just reacted, Stephen wondered if this was the first time he’d ever had his dick sucked. To test that theory, he pulled back slowly, swirling his tongue around the swollen head of the man’s cock. He was rewarded by another soft gasp. Every muscle in the punter’s body felt tense, and the man’s hands were at his side, hands curled in on themselves, fingers digging into his palms.

Stephen let the man’s cock slip from his lips for a moment while he continued to work the hard shaft with one hand. “Relax, I don’t bite…”

The punter gave a shaky laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

Stephen smiled up at him. “That this is the first time anybody’s sucked your cock? Yeah, just a bit, but don’t worry about it. You’re not the first, and you definitely won’t be the last.” He licked slowly up from root to tip, then hollowed his cheeks and started to suck gently.

The way the bloke’s hands started to clench and unclench told Stephen that he was definitely doing something right. He felt sorry for the bloke, and professional pride meant that he’d do the best he could. The guy was paying, and by the look of him it hadn’t been easy to get psyched up to this. He’d been wellying back the booze at the bar, but still seemed stone-cold sober.

Stephen used his lips, tongue and throat to good effect, bringing the bloke to the brink a couple of times then backing off. He wanted to make sure that his nervous first-timer got value for money. Max would laugh if he knew, and tell Stephen he was doing his ‘whore with a heart of gold’ act again, but in reality it was just good business sense. Satisfied customers meant repeat business. Simple. And this bloke was easy money.

Letting the bloke’s cock slide into his throat, Stephen was pleased when he drew another gasp out of him. This wasn’t going to take long now…

The gasp turned into a long drawn out sigh of pure please and the punter’s cock jerked in Stephen’s throat. Smiling around his mouthful, Stephen gentled the bloke through his climax, milking the last drops of come into the condom.

He sat back on his heels and gently tugged off the condom and dealt with it.

The man’s eyes were closed and his head had fallen back against the white-walled cubicle. For all the fact that the pub was pretty run down, Max did at least make an effort to ensure that Stephen’s workplace stayed clean, even if he didn’t run to a bowl of pot pourri on the cistern.

“Enjoy that?” Stephen asked, already knowing the answer. The bloke had probably come harder than he’d ever come in his life.

“Aye. Thanks for making an effort. I know I should be old enough to know better but…”

Stephen grinned. The man was probably no older than his mid-30s. The wedding ring on his left hand had given Stephen the main clue. The bloke was married, maybe happily, maybe not, but his wife clearly wasn’t into giving head and the punter had wanted to know what he was missing out on. Whether this was going to be good for his marriage or not, Stephen didn’t know. He was a hooker, not a relationship counsellor. But what he did know was that the bloke would be back.

“Never too old to try something new,” he said. “And I think old is a bit of an exaggeration.”

The bloke gave him a tired smile. “Fancy a nightcap?”

“Sounds good.”

* * * * *

“Stephen, are you going anywhere near Professor Cutter’s office?” the Dean’s secretary asked. “I’ve been trying to get a message through to him, but I think he’s left his phone off the hook again.” She held out a piece of paper, a hopeful expression on her face.

He smiled and took it from her. “Sure, no problem.”

He hadn’t met the new professor yet. CMU’s star acquisition had only arrived a week ago – the youngest professor in the uni, and a rising star in evolutionary biology.

The door to Professor Cutter’s office was firmly closed, with a handwritten note that said ‘Go Away’ blu-tacked to the faded wood. Stephen cheerfully ignored it and gave a respectful knock.

A voice growled something unintelligible that Stephen chose to interpret as ‘come in’, even though it had sounded suspiciously like ‘bugger off’, with heavy emphasis on the final letter of bugger.

Stephen opened the door and stepped inside the room. He came to an abrupt halt, the note slipping unheeded from his fingers onto the floor.

There was no mistaking the sticking up hair and the startled expression in a pair of all too familiar blue eyes.

Stephen had sucked the guy off twice in the past week, but he’d never got as far as learning his name, although he was familiar with his views on Scotch and knew exactly where to lick and how hard to work his dick for maximum effect.

None of which was going to be of much use to him right now.