Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Set somewhere near the end of season three where Danny Quinn is still team leader. – Warnings: Slash, threesome, adult language, adult scenes, titch of blood, sex pollen and its aftermath.

Authors Note #2: This is a continuation of my fic: "Smoke Stack Heroes" set directly after the story left off. It probably won't make much sense without reading "Smoke Stack Heroes" first. *This ficlet is for Knitekat who encouraged me to write more in this 'verse, evil little sprite that she is. * Special thanks once again to Fififolle for her helpful encouragement and lovely beta work. All mistakes are my own.

Tinder Dry

Chapter 1

Hands posed behind his back, he nodded to Lorraine before strolling from his office. Pointedly ignoring her thinly veiled stare as the irrepressible woman followed his progress down the ramp from underneath the dark fan of her lashes. He'd already stopped being concerned over the amount of times his secretary had raised her eyebrows at him. Feeling the weight of her keen gaze as he'd remained standing to sign at least half the day's paperwork, taking more tours around the ARC in one day then he normally did in three.

He'd given up on secrecy and professional decency two hours before noon, drawing the line at squirming in his chair as his arse put up a tantrum at the whole notion of sitting, conference calls, and paperwork. Somewhat unsurprisingly he'd made his first tour around the complex not long after that. Stretching his sore muscles and soothing out the kinks as he soldiered through it.

Besides, he certainly didn't want to miss the distinct pleasure of watching Quinn and Becker shift and wince as the day progressed. Or in Becker's case downright yelp as the younger man forgot himself and sat down just a bit too hard as they'd gathered for the weekly budget meeting. Looking deliciously sore and uncomfortable as the younger man smothered the rest of his exclamation by the skin of his teeth.

Good boy…

Quinn had looked like the proverbial cat that had got the cream as the others stared openly. Or at least he had right up until the moment where he'd looked the ginger man right in the eye and insisted he take a seat as well. Only quirking an undeniably smug brow at the slight wince and pointed glare he'd received in return. Revelling in the moment as the man shut his gob and wriggled in his seat. Ultimately deeming the whole affair well worth the thudding ache whinging up from his own sore cheeks as he shuffled his papers and got down to business.

All in all it had probably been the most subdued, uneventful meeting in ARC history. Sore arses not withstanding.

After his fourth tour around the ARC, he was forced to resign himself to the fact that he was doing nothing more then making the staff jumpy. Returning to his self imposed exile in remarkably foul humour as Lorraine made herself scarce. Resoundly cursing Danny, Becker, himself, and the entire notion of sitting as a whole as he eased himself back down into his chair with a smothered grunt.

Bollocks.

The screensaver on his laptop flashed enticingly, seemingly at odds with his resigned sigh as he tapped on the mouse pad and logged in. Clicking his way through the veritable heap of data until he'd located the CCTV archives. He supposed he couldn't put it off any longer, lack of official paperwork not withstanding, he still needed to know what had happened; both personally and professionally.

It didn't take long. Thirty seconds at the most before he was hooked. Transfixed and utterly enraptured as he watched with bated breath. Hardly realising he was holding it in as his eyes remained fixed on the screen. It was like watching a train wreck in progress. A very sensual…and unexpectedly good looking train wreck, but an utter disaster nonetheless.

His hand came up to adjust the tightness of his tie as he watched Abby and Sarah wheel the tray of bio-medically sealed samples from the containment area. With Connor, Becker, and Danny trailing sedately in their wake, hands moving animatedly as all five of them headed towards the small incinerator three levels down.

The cameras caught muted moments of polite chattering and good natured ribbing, displaying a tightly knit group that seemed supremely comfortable within their own collective skin. After the loss of Stephen, Cutter and Jenny it was everything he could have hoped for, bonding together, despite all odds, under Quinn's strong, but undeniably unique form of leadership.

He suppressed a smile, tapping idly at his chin as he watched Becker take over wheeling the cart, letting Abby fall back to join Connor as they turned down the hall towards the disposal units. The love struck pair was almost painfully oblivious as they danced around their mutual attraction like a couple of pre-pubescent school children tugging on each other's pig tails.

He was going to grow old and grey by the time one of them finally grew the balls to make the first move, he was bloody well sure of it.

His back straightened, sore muscles throbbing in concert as they entered the incinerator room. Pausing the footage for a brief moment as he glanced inconspicuously around the room, watching Lorraine's close black curls bobbing minutely as she took a call. Scribbling on a memo pad as one impeccably manicured nail switched phone lines seamlessly, starting the whole process all over again. He rose up in his chair a few inches as he peeked over the screen. Barely catching sight of the top one of Connor's infernal, charity shop hats hunched over the ADD. Seemingly engrossed in some sort of diagnostic, having eyes only for a baffling screen of streaming green code as his fingers fairly flew across the keyboard.

There was no sign of Quinn or Becker. Something that in itself wasn't exactly reassuring, yet on the other hand wasn't entirely surprising either. Their absence probably meaning that either one or both of them were currently rappelling down some far flung heating duct or base jumping off the side of the building in the name of improving security. Call it what you want, but he knew a friendly rivalry when he saw one. The two weren't fooling anyone on that front, improving security his arse.

Daft buggers, as Cutter might have said.

Once assured that he wasn't likely to be disturbed, he hit play. Sore muscles tensing on reflex as he pressed a few choice keys and the feed switched over to the incinerator room cameras. Eying the screen closely, he watched as Becker wheeled the cart over to the technician. Pausing to sign the sheaf of paperwork as the younger man ferried the bags into her care.

And much like Quinn and Becker had already explained, what followed was a series of staggered exits. With Doctor Page eventually making her excuses and leaving the others. Heading off in the direction of her office as Becker and Quinn shooed Abby and Connor off as well. Waving them out just as the technician finished signing the last bit of paperwork.

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as Quinn and Becker head's whipped up in concert when the machine's controls suddenly blinked an angry, caustic red. With the flashing words: "Warning: Malfunction. Obstruction in tray one," causing an annoyed frown to take up residence on the technician's face. Her long fingers hunting and pecking around the keyboard until a flash of relief coursed across her face. Popping open a tool kit and rummaging through it as she explained the problem.

With a small grin Quinn took the proffered wrench and ducked under the conveyor belt. Moving out of sight of the cameras until one arm raised itself out from the depths of its mechanical innards and traded Becker the wrench for a set of long, stainless steel tongs as the craggy man set about prodding the troublesome material back into the centre of the incineration tray.

He winced on sheer principal. But when Quinn returned from adjusting the sample, he could see no visible difference in the tall, ginger man. Even going so far as to pause the feed as the man dropped the tongs into a cleaning tray, and set about washing up in the small sink with the anti-contamination gel as per protocol.

So far so good.

The rest of the process went by without a hitch. With both men standing idle as the technician tapped her foot and eyed her watch, obviously having other plans for the evening as they waited for the machine to render the troublesome material to ashes. But it wasn't until Becker had signed the final release form, waving a cheerful farewell to the impatient technician that he realised Quinn was no longer standing beside them. Instead he was at the sink, large palm curled into a makeshift ladle as he drank straight from the tap, shaking his head minutely, as if attempting to clear it as he followed Becker from the room.

That had to be it.

Danny had been exposed somehow. Perhaps he'd breathed in at the wrong time, or touched something he shouldn't have before the sample had been completely rendered harmless. He doubted they'd ever know for sure given their limited knowledge on the blasted plant itself. But either way the damage had been done.

He eyed the two closely as they passed from camera to camera. Watching as seemingly animated conversation grew close and stilted. Until the younger man started shooting Quinn questioning looks from the corner of his eye as the taller man ran a hand through his hair, wide eyed and sweating visibly as they reached the main floor. He switched over to the central ARC feed and stared with open interest as Quinn waved the solider away. Melting seamlessly into the background when Becker was distracted by a small group of his men, not even noticing when Danny slipped off down the hall towards the locker rooms. Steps growing quick paced and jerky as the man's shoulders hit the frame, practically falling into the wall as inexplicably awkward limbs struggled with the door handle.

His hand came up to loosen his collar at the mere sight of him. Pants growing worrisomely tight as he watched Quinn all but stumble into the locker room. Not even waiting to get into a stall before yanking his trousers open. Wide palmed hands visibly shaking as his straining cock was revealed in all its glory. Auburn hairs all but glowing in a halo of burnished, reddish gold as the overhead lights flickered. Chasing the arcing shadows down the length of the man's profile as Danny hunched into himself, flailing for balance as sweat dripped down from his temples in rivulets.

He could see confusion, lust, and desperation warring for dominance on the man's expressive face. And he couldn't quite deny that his hungry eyes didn't follow the arching tip of the man's chin as Danny hit the wall, eyes closing in a silent groan as the redhead's hands curled around his prick. One hand coming up to brace himself against the full length mirror as his hand jerked around his considerable length.

There was no finesse, showmanship, or effort to drag it out. No. This was down, dirty, and desperate, with tension cording down the length of the man's neck as he surged headlong into the single minded pursuit for release. It was almost as if the man was caught in the grips of something he couldn't control. Seemingly mindless of the fact that he was leaning against the wall in the middle of the locker room, in full view of anyone who might happen to enter. Absurdly large palms wrapped so tightly around his cock that it peeked out of his fingers in a painful red and strangled purple looking hue.

And soon he forgot to feel guilty about getting aroused over the whole affair, having eyes only for the way Quinn looked down at his unflagging cock, slick and gleaming with his release as pleasure blown eyes blinked beautifully. The proverbial 'deer in the headlights' coupled with that of unaccustomed wildness as almost unbidden the redhead's hand started stroking once again. Working himself hard and fast as come blurted from the tip.

He shifted in his chair. Prick throbbing in spite of himself as he fought for control. Christ that was hot. He'd never taken himself for much a voyeur, but he'd be damned if on this occasion he didn't see the appeal.

His attention fastened back on the screen as Quinn's hips arched. Cock blurring in his hand as the man's lips pulled back, hissing in a silent snarl as he came again. Shooting all over himself, and the full length mirror he was braced up against as his naked thighs visibly trembled. Subsiding into strangled pants as one of the man's come streaked hands skidded carelessly across the immaculate tiles, coming up to yank on his already loose collar as a flush spread down his ruddy, freckle splotched skin.

He could almost see the realisation in the man's eyes as Quinn's fist tightened around his cock for the third time. The struggle for clarity over that of arousal and baser instinct was clear in the way the man fumbled with his radio, slick fingers struggling to press the necessary buttons before giving up and trying to rise. Hand working himself incessantly as he wavered, pulling himself across the floor one handed until he collapsed in a sweaty, mismatched heap in the middle of the floor, only a few metres from the emergency alert button affixed on the opposite wall.

It wasn't until the man had come again that he raised himself up on his hands and knees. Straining cock curving into his belly and all but dripping with his release as man's sweat slicked head hung low between the arching juts of his shoulders. Shaking himself much like an errant dog coming in from the rain. But when the man looked up all evidence of that previous will power and determination had vanished. Replaced instead by pleasure darkened eyes and a particularly feral expression that sent a bolt of electricity winging down his spine.

Because he knew that look, that wildness, want, and half feral abandon. He'd felt it and been caught in the grips of it in turn. It had been like nothing he'd ever experienced. Overwhelmed by the unexpected clarity of desire and the surety of instincts he hadn't realised he'd had in the first place.

Christ.

He nearly jumped in his seat, brow in danger of disappearing into his hairline as Quinn seemed to look right into the camera lens. Panting hotly into the open air as his cock twitched, smearing come across his taut stomach as the man's head tilted.

He was startled by the sudden change when the man went rigid. Clearly listening to something only he could hear, before he leapt to his feet. All feline grace and that too wide, feral grin as the man's engorged prick was stuffed unceremoniously back into his trousers. Fumbling gracelessly with the buttons as Quinn fled deeper into the shadows of the room, locking himself into one of the stalls the same moment a small horde of soldiers tumbled through the door.

Ahah! So not so random after all.

He kept a close eye on both the stall and the milling group as they stripped and showered. Fresh from long day of training exercises at the local training range. And in that half an hour span, Quinn neither moved nor made even so much as a bloody peep. Letting the soldiers shower and horse around unhindered. In fact it wasn't until the last man had followed the rest of the mob out the door that Quinn emerged.

The taller man prowled the length of the room. Trousers ridiculously tented and now sporting a growing damp patch to match as the man reached down to cup himself. Stroking like an afterthought as his head cocked, suddenly looking towards the closed door like he could see right through it. Face tilting upwards like an animal scenting the wind the same moment a toothy grin stretched across his pleasure- wrecked face.

And on impulse he paused the feed. Shaky fingers working across the keyboard for a few age long moments before he brought up the footage from outside of the hall. Suspicions confirmed as he noted Becker strolling down the hall towards the locker room, one hand on his radio as a frustrated look tripped across his handsome features.

Quinn knew. He knew it was Becker.

He blinked. Switching back to the locker room feed as Danny skirted the benches and took up position just out of sight of the main door. The move almost strategic in the way it would force the man to fully enter the room in order to see him. A rush of anticipation coursed through him. Cock twitching pointedly in his expensive, pinstriped trousers as his brain supplied a series of quite... erotic mental images. It didn't take a bloody rocket scientist to know what was going to happen next.

They tussled. Fighting for dominance and the upper hand as Quinn tried to pin the younger man to the floor. Barely noticing the man's growingly worried shouts as reasoning failed and professional caution came into play. With Becker trying his best to gently fend the man off until he found himself slammed against the lockers as Quinn licked a stripe up his neck. Teeth bared in a silent growl as Becker's eyes went comically wide.

He almost felt sorry for Becker as he watched the younger man's mouth move, miming words, perhaps even pleas as he cursed the lack of audio. Forced to simply watch and imagine as the soldier managed to push the taller man back. Delivering a series of manoeuvres meant to keep the older man off balance and topple him to the ground, no doubt hoping to try and reason with his team leader as he tried to keep Quinn at bay.

It was a strategy that probably would have worked, save for the rather important fact that the ex-copper wasn't buying it. Not one bit. In fact Danny used the younger man's unwillingness to hurt him to his advantage, stalking him from the sidelines of the soldier's reach. Ignoring the man's placating gestures and calming words as Quinn slowly backed him towards the far wall.

His movements were disturbingly reminiscent of a tom cat toying with its prey, as the older man bared his teeth in a feral grin. Dark eyes making a mockery of his usual amicable humour as the man feinted to the left. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as Becker stiffened, clearly not amused with the man's mind games.

But despite the soldier's attention, Quinn eventually got the upper hand, taking the younger man down to the floor with a vicious jab at his solar plexus as they tumbled over one of the benches. Wrestling and scrapping until suddenly, faster then either he or apparently Becker could process, Quinn had the soldier by the scruff of the neck. Kissing him fiercely as the man's stunned eyes struggled to clear a mere second before Danny lanced down and sunk his teeth into the man's neck. Sucking and licking at the wound as a thin rivulet of blood escaped, rolling down his neck in a trailing, crimson band until the older man licked him clean. Nipping at the abused skin and keeping him pinned in place as the man howled in pain and more then a little pleasure judging by the size of the bulge in his trousers as he struggled.

It didn't take long. Perhaps the 'infection' was passed through prolonged contact or even that of blood or saliva because only minutes later, Becker's last haphazard pushes had suddenly turned into pointed thrusts as he met Quinn's demanding kisses with his own. Bold hands fumbling with the clasps of the man's trousers as Quinn did the same, thrusting shamelessly until Becker keened into Danny's throat. Hips jerking convulsively when Quinn refused to let up, stroking the younger man demandingly until he forced him supine against the dirty tiles and swallowed him whole.

Bloody hell…

It wasn't until they'd reached their third collective release, thrusting into each other thoughtlessly as they chased their pleasure that it happened. Because in unison he watched as both their heads arched up, scenting the air keenly as they slithered off the floor and to their feet. Limbs mingling together as they ran errant hands down each other's flesh, apparently unwilling to let go of each other completely as they prowled up and down the length of the room. Clearly on the hunt for something as they canted their heads, smearing come and sweat down the length of the wall as they trailed filthy fingers along the white washed render and metallic lock boxes.

He swore he missed a breath when they halted beside a remarkably familiar looking section. His locker? What would they want with his blasted locker?

His eyes seemed far too large for his head as he watched the two men nearly climb on top of each other as they rifled through the locker's sparse contents. Trading sloppy kisses as everything from his deodorant to his cologne was shoved unceremoniously aside. In fact, it wasn't until Becker's hand curled around one of the old university shirts he used when making use of the ARC's gym that he realised what was happening.

They could smell him... Christ on a bloody crutch... They could fucking smell him…

A/N: Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! There will be one more part to this particular story which I hope to have up soon!

"There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from." - Elisabeth Kubler-Ross