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Story Notes:
A birthday gift for Bigtitch! Jon Lyle belongs to Fredbassett. With thanks to Fififolle for the beta.
The two men faced each other, the testosterone in the room almost palpable. To anyone watching, who didn't know them, it would appear like two sworn enemies were about to fight to the death, but the smallest twinkle in their eyes gave them away to anyone who knew them.

It had started as a game, both of them more than a little tipsy after a night of football and beer; they decided it was the best way to settle the question of who would watch the Forest of Dean anomaly over the next bank holiday weekend.

It was Lester's fault really for agreeing to give whoever wasn't actively working a three day weekend, barring creature incursions. He had almost seemed smug when he told them they could 'agree among themselves' who would get the job of watching their most active anomaly site and who would get to spend the weekend doing 'whatever it is you do when not shooting things'.

The clash when it came was hard and fast. Adrenaline surged in their veins. Neither willing to give an inch they didn't have to.

Ryan went down first.

Lyle smirked. "Oh Captain, my Captain," he said mockingly.

"Best two out of three," Ryan growled, jumping to his feet, the dance beginning again.

Lyle took the second fall, landing face down, Ryan's weight on his hips. "Something you'd like to say this time Lieutenant?" Ryan asked, twisting slightly on the arm he had held against Lyle's back. "No witty comments? You don't seem to be enjoying it as much anymore."

"Not as much as you, Captain," Lyle said, wriggling against him. Ryan's cock was hard in his shorts, pressed against Lyle's spine.

Ryan couldn't stop the groan, not even if he'd tried.

Lyle wriggled against him again and Ryan released his arm, making a split second decision, flipping his Lieutenant over, chest to chest...he wasn't the only one with a hard-on.

"Apparently," Ryan said. "You are enjoying it as much as me."

Lyle's no doubt smart-mouthed retort was cut off as Ryan kissed him. Just shy of brutal, clashing lips and teeth and a tongue forcing its way into Lyle's mouth as Ryan ground against him hard. Two rough groans filled the room.

Ryan dragged Lyle's cock from the confines of his shorts, stroking roughly as they continued to kiss, hard and with just as much fire as they'd fought. Ryan nearly came immediately when Lyle's hand found its way into his shorts and wrapped around his cock.

"Consider this round three," he growled, biting Lyle's lip. The resulting smirk on Lyle's face was as much confirmation as he needed.

There was no finesse, nothing except the desire to get the other person off, to win. Groans and growls filled the air, curses muttered between fierce kisses. Ryan was sure he was going to lose, aware of his balls tightening, the edges of his consciousness starting to blur as he desperately kept stroking Lyle's cock... it wasn't going to be enough, it wasn't...

"Oh fuck..." Lyle spat out the expletive, coming over Ryan's hand as Ryan's orgasm pumped over Lyle's.

Breathlessly they slumped together on the floor, Ryan occasionally nipping at Lyle's shoulder, hand still idly stroking him.

"I think that was a draw," Lyle said eventually.

Ryan grunted in agreement.

"We could make Blade work the weekend..." Lyle suggested, squeezing Ryan's cock lightly. "Or go for round four..."

Ryan laughed. "We could do both."

Lyle took round four.

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