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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years

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Broken Leg And All - Ian Malcolm X Female Reader

Title: Broken Leg And All

Ian Malcolm X Female Reader

Additional Characters: John (Mentioned), Ellie (Mentioned), Lex (Mentioned), Timmy (Mentioned), Alan (Mentioned), and Henry (Mentioned)

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

WC: 3,621

Warnings: Gun mentioned but not used, knife mentioned but not used, blood mentioned, slight gore, mention of broken bones, mention of death, mention of killing, puns, teasing, and fluff

Unable to just sit at your desk and wait, you suddenly stood. Grabbing your jacket and clipping on your utility belt, attaching your walkie-talkie, flashlight, extra batteries, pocketknife, and small granola bars, before grabbing your gun out of your desk. Checking the clip, you put on the safety and put it in your pocket. You prayed that you didn't have to use it. It would break your heart to have to kill one of the beautiful but monstrous creatures. They were your life. But, you had to do what you had to do.

Double checking the babies, you set the locking system up and grabbed your keys. Walking to the front of the building, you opened the doors and stepped outside. The wind howled and the rain poured down, soaking you instantly and sending cold shivers through your spine. You headed to the small garage off the side of the building, wary of the outside and the possibility of dinosaur escapees. You were pretty far from most of the enclosures, so you had some time before they traveled to you.

Entering the code into the pad on the garage wall, the door slowly slid up, revealing your second pride and joy, your four-wheeler. You walked in and climbed aboard, grabbing the ignition key and turning it. The engine roared to life, and you hit the gas, heading to the T-Rex sector. The rain pelted you as you raced towards the enclosures. Pushing up your glasses, you cursed at the rain. It was already hard to see in the dark but the rain splashed against your glasses made it worse. It took a while, but you finally got to the enclosure, luckily not running into any dinosaurs.

At the T-Rex enclosure, you stopped, getting off of the four-wheeler. Looking around, you saw the one explorer, the broken electric fence, and the collapsed bathrooms. Rushing to Rex's enclosure, you peered down, hardly seeing anything other than the trees below. But, you had figured by the muddy tracks on the ground that the other car fell down there. Biting your lip, you hoped that no one was hurt or worse... Dead.

Going to the collapsed bathroom, you observed the damage, before you saw a hand sticking out of the mess. Rushing over and falling to your knees, you pushed the pieces of wood and giant leaves away to reveal Ian. Gasping, you noticed his leg was badly bleeding.

"Ian!" You cried, gently pulling him into your arms, cradling his head in your lap. "Are you even alive?" You asked him, but more to yourself.

Reaching out, you pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, feeling his steady pulse underneath your fingertips. He was alive and that's all that mattered.

"Ian! Okay, wake up. We have to get you out of here..."

"Hnn... Hah... Hm... Wha..." He stumbled over his words, opening his eyes slowly.

looking up, Ian smiled, "Hey, you're the cute doctor." He chuckled, wincing as he tried to sit up, but failed.

"Oh! Oh no, Ian. Your leg is badly injured," you gasped, leaning forward and placing a hand on his chest to stop him, "Your leg is bleeding a lot. It might be broken."

He winced, grimacing, "I'll live, Doc." He laughed weakly.

You frowned, "You will, but we need to get you somewhere where I can sterilize the wound. We don't want to get it infected."

He nodded, "Okay, sounds like a plan." He spoke, before slowly sitting up, gritting his teeth as you helped him up, holding him in your arms as he limped towards your four-wheeler.

Helping him onto the back of the wheeler, you grabbed onto the handles and started the engine. Ian wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, groaning from a striking pain in his leg.

"Hold on... It's going to be a bumpy ride."

Rain pelted down on your face as you raced back to the baby sector. quickly typing your code into the number pad and pressing your hand on the scanner, the large double doors opened, and you quickly helped Ian in. The enclosure was in an uproar as the babies looked out at you, jumping and running around. Helping Ian to a small cot, you quickly rushed to the restroom for the med kit. Quickly, you washed your hands before rushing back over, you kneeled in front of the cot and placed the kit on the floor. Opening the kit, you pulled out a small clean cloth, and glanced up to Ian.

"This whole process is going to hurt a bit, but I have to clean your leg and make sure... You know, infections and stuff." You stumbled over your last few words, it was hard to speak when he was looking at you.

"Alright, Doc." He chuckled, "Who knew you were also a human doctor."

You ignored him at the beginning, focusing on the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, you reached for his leg gently. Placing the cloth on where you presumed the cut or large gash was, Ian immediately hissing in pain.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, as you started to clean the blood and dirt from his leg. He winced again, before shaking his head.

"It's okay." He chuckled, "Just doing your job. My fault for letting the Rex chase me." He then groaned as you put slight pressure on the wound.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, your jaw dropped slightly, "You let Roberta chase you? Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "She was trying to get the kids. Hammond's grandkids." He frowned, wincing as you began to clean the wound with antiseptic.

"Ugh, alright, that hurts." He groaned, shutting his eyes tight. "She has a name?"

"Yeah, they all do. I named almost every single one of them."

Ian hummed again before groaning once more.

Reaching out with your free hand, you placed it on top of his tightly curled fist. His hand felt warm and soft, and you could feel the tension in his body ease. You cleared your throat and continued to clean the wound until you were certain it was clean.

"Can you stand?" You asked, and Ian tried to move his leg, only to wince again.

"No... No, I don't think I can." He painfully chuckled, somewhat lounging against the cot, holding his top half up with his arm.

You began to throw away the trash and mess, tossing what you could in the tin trash basket near your desk.

"That was very brave of you..." You began from your place next to the cot, "Distracting Roberta. I mean. It must have been very scary."

He shrugged, "It wasn't that bad. I had a cute doctor who fixed me right up." He chuckled, wincing as he tried to shift position. "Thank you, by the way."

"Thank me?" You asked, blushing from his comment, tilting your head slightly. "I just made sure your leg didn't get infected."

He sighed, "Well, saving my life. If you hadn't found me, I would be stuck there; under the remains of a bathroom hut."

"You're welcome." You chuckled, taking a deep breath. "But, I doubt you would've been stuck there forever. Ellie would've found you or John if I hadn't." Eyes wide suddenly, you grabbed your walkie talkie.

"I have to call John, let him know I found you."

Ian watched as you got up, pacing the room as you talked to John through the walkie talkie. As he watched, he couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. You were so adorable; making sure he was safe and the others were too. He could see you in his New York apartment, in the kitchen with him as you both cooked breakfast; wearing his clothes. He could see the two of you driving down the highway, wind blowing through your hair as you sang along to a song playing on the radio. He could see himself playing on his guitar, serenading you with a song he wrote just for you. Knocking himself out of it, Ian scolded himself and his mind.

"So, uhm... How long do you think we're gonna be here?" Ian asked, clearing his throat lightly.

You paused before speaking, "Once the power comes back on I believe. Or when John gets back to me about his plan. I have no idea what to do really about any of this. I never thought this would happen." You spoke, running a hand through your hair.

"Are we safe here?" Ian asked and you immediately nodded.

"Definitely, this is the baby sector. More security. Don't want the babies possibly escaping or someone trying to get in if they aren't part of the database." You told him, fixing the glasses on your face, "John, Henry, and I are the only ones with the code."

"Good." Ian nodded, "How many dinosaurs are in here?" He asked, sitting up on the cot, grunting slightly.

"Oh, about fifteen. Ankylosaurus, Triceratops, Stegosaurus, and Spinosaurus to name a few. Do you want to meet them?" You froze when Ian hesitated, his body stiffening.

"I won't bring out a carnivore. I'll bring our a baby Triceratops if that makes you feel better." You tried to reassure him, which Ian smiled up at you.

"That would be great," He said, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Alright, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." You laughed, and Ian smirked.

"I couldn’t even if I tried, sweetheart."

Face feeling warm, you nodded, before heading to the back of the room, putting in the same code and waiting as the sliding doors opened, before walking in. Passing each baby dino, you found the baby Triceratops, placing your hand on the datapad as the glass door opened. Ian watched through the enclosures glass as you crouched down to pick up the tiny dinosaur. He couldn't hear you, but you spoke to the baby, cooing and holding it close to your chest.

You'd be good with kids, he observed.

Closing the enclosure, you walked back out with the baby Triceratops in your arms, who squirmed slightly in your arms. Sitting beside Ian, you looked up at him and back to the baby.

"This is Sarah. Sarah the Trisarahtops." You giggled, petting the baby's head. It was around the same size as an adult cat, its neck poking out of your arms, its legs resting on your lap. It looked up at you with big brown eyes, blinking slowly.

"Hi, Sarah." Ian laughed out, noticing the pun.

"You can pet her, she is the nicest out of her sisters. Not as sassy." You informed him, smiling as you stroked the baby's back.

Ian smiled, reaching a hand out to rub Sarah's head. She seemed calm enough as he did so, allowing him to rub her head.

~~~

As the hours went on, you began to grow tired, having put Sarah back in her enclosure only minutes ago. The poor baby had grown tired, and you were feeling the same. You were sure Ian was too, from the times he had yawned beside you. Yawning yourself, you rubbed your tired eyes.

"We should get some sleep... How does your leg feel?" You asked, turning your head to look at him.

He winced, "A little better. I just need to rest." He chuckled, "I'm surprised I haven't fallen asleep yet."

"Well, you've been through a lot, Ian." You spoke, pulling out a small bin from under the cot, pulling out a blanket for you and him.

"You can have the cot, I'll sleep in my chair." You spoke, but Ian shook his head.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable." But, you answered by shaking your own head, unraveling the blanket and casting it over him.

"Nonsense, Ian. You have a broken leg. Don't want you to hurt yourself any further." You told him, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek. "Sleep well." You whispered, surprising yourself by being so forward, unraveling your own blanket and going to your desk, snuggling into your chair.

"Night." Ian murmured, feeling his face flush, his cheek burning hot from where your lips had softly caressed it.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but instead he began to replay the moments he shared with you today. You were kind, gentle, loving, caring. Ian soon realized that he was growing infatuated by you; falling in love. Though, he knew that he wouldn't have a chance. Ian slept off, not even knowing the time passed.

~~~

The next morning was rushed. John had called over the walkie talkie, informing you that the copter was ready at the landing bay. They were only waiting for you. Quickly, you knew what you had to do. Opening the heavy side doors, you watched as the brought sunlight shined, the tree's leaves swaying in the calm breeze. Opening each padlock, you stood by the exit, watching the curious baby dinosaurs wandered off into the forest ahead of you.

"Here, Ian." You told him, holding back your tears, "Let's get to the copter." You spoke, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him limp his way to the parked four-wheeler. He didn't answer, he didn't say anything at all. He didn't want his time with you to end. He knew once he got off the godforsaken island, you would all go your separate ways. Him to a hospital and then to New York, and you to who knows where.

With a soft groan, he lifted his head and looked down at you, seeing your red eyes and teary cheeks, "You okay?" He asked, raising a hand to gently wipe away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." You reassured him, "Just excited about getting home. And, I am going to miss my babies... All grown up now I suppose."

He nodded, looking up at the sky. The birds were chirping happily, a beautiful sight to see. Hopping on the four-wheeler, you put the key in the ignition and turned it, starting the engine. With a flick of the wrist, you drove away from the baby sector and towards the helicopter bay. It seemed like such a short amount of time since Ian had met you, yet it felt like you'd known each other for much longer than that. There was this sort of connection between the two of you. You had felt it the moment he spoke up in the lab.

Reaching the helicopter, its blades quickly chopping the air, ready for take-off. You helped Ian into the copter, before hesitating. You turned back to the island. Your heart clenched as you remembered your time at the park, before you pushed the feeling away.

"Y/N!" Ian called out to you from the loud helicopter, you turned to him, seeing his hand out-reached. "Come on." He smiled at you, waving you over.

Taking his hand, you climbed into the helicopter, and took hold of a strap, watching as Ian did the same. As you sat down, the side doors shut, and the rotors began to spin faster, as you put on the headset. You looked out the window of the copter, reminiscing on the time you spent on the island. Taking care of the baby dinos and watching them grow up. You were going to miss them dearly. You were going to miss Ian terribly.

Sitting on the edge of your seat, you began to watch the scenery pass by you, hand still clutching Ian's. Soon, you saw the ocean up ahead, and you smiled, looking out the window of the copter.

"Only an hour and we'll get you to the hospital." You told him.

Ian furrowed his eyebrows, "We?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at you.

You nodded, "I don't think I can go home without knowing you are absolutely okay." You explained to him, "If... That's alright with you?" You mumbled, feeling your face flush.

"Of course..." He laughed, "What could be better than having you at my bedside?"

You smiled at him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "You'll definitely need surgery. I'll be there when you wake up." You assured him.

"Well, as long as I have my favorite cute doctor, I'll do just fine." He joked, chuckling lightly.

You smiled at his words, "You will be." You told him, before taking a deep breath but you were interrupted, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are almost at the hospital. We ask that you remain seated until the doors open, and we are clear of the island." The pilot spoke over the system.

Ellie gave Alan a knowing look, which he returned.

~~~

The rhythmic beeps of Ian's heart monitor slowly woke him up. Glancing around the room, Ian focused his eyes, seeing the bright white walls and ceilings, and noticing the vase of Spring Lilies and Snowdrops on the bedside table. The room was quiet, aside from his heart monitor, which began to beat faster. He was alone. You were no longer with him. Had you decided to leave? To go somewhere else? Did he misunderstand your feelings? He didn't know what was happening anymore. He was confused and hurting, seeing his broken leg in a white cast.

Turning his head to the side, he let out a sigh of relief, there you walked in, face relaxed, holding two cups of water. Your hair was redone, framing your face perfectly. You smiled at him, walking over and setting the cup of water on the bedside table.

"Good morning, Ian." You spoke, voice soft.

Looking at the clock, you giggled, "Well, afternoon."

"I thought you left," Ian spoke, and you frowned slightly.

"I'm sorry you woke up and I wasn't here. I thought I'd go down to the cafeteria and get you some water for when you awoke, and a permanent marker for your cast." You explained, sitting down beside him on the bed, and handing him the cup of water.

Ian took the cup gratefully, taking a sip, the water clearing his dry throat. "You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart. I'm glad you're here." His words were genuine, his tone warm and inviting.

"I know." You smiled, laying your eyes on Ian's cast.

"Can I sign it?" You asked, pushing up the rim of your glasses nervously, and Ian imedenently nodded.

"Go right ahead. Been wanting my hero's autograph," Ian joked, his smile coming more naturally.

Giggling, you moved to the corner of the bed, your hands shaking as you reached out to touch the cast, placing a soft and steady hand on the cast, you pulled out the permanent marker and clicked it open. Biting your lip, you began to write a small massage on the cast, along with your number.

"What did you write?" He asked, unfortunately, unable to see what you had written.

"Mmm, it says: 'Thank you for not dying.'... And my phone number," You mumbled.

Ian chuckled lightly, "Your number?"

You sat back down on the side of the bed, nodding. "Mmhm, I thought you might need it."

A smirk on his face, Ian spoke, "Do you give your number to all dinosaur attack survivors?" He teased and you smirked right back.

"Only to my favorite cute doctors." You told him, winking playfully, leaning forward a bit.

Ian laughed lightly, "That sounds like me." Leaning in, he kissed your cheek, sending tingles through your body.

"You missed..." You mumbled, not able to finish.

"Me? Missed? I don't think so." He continued to tease and you gently hit him on the shoulder.

Ian let out a small 'ow,' holding his shoulder with his hand, "Wow, attacking a poor broken man. How dare you?" He jested, and you laughed, shaking your head.

"You're impossible."

"You were right though, sweetheart," Ian muttered, eyes glancing from your eyes to your lips and back.

"Aren't I always?" You whispered teasingly, Ian shaking his own head softly.

"I did miss." He spoke and you let out a soft 'oh.'

Leaning up slightly, Ian's lips gently brushed against yours, and you wasted no time closing the small gap. Pressing your lips together, you placed your hand on his cheek and the other over his quick-beating heart, pulling yourself closer, meeting his kiss with passion. You moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, not heart Ian's heart monitor going crazy.

Suddenly, a nurse rushed in, interrupting and embarrassing the two of you.

"Oh!" She stumbled, face flushed in her own embarrassment. "I thought something was wrong. Your heart monitor."

"Oh, I am great," Ian spoke quickly with a smile, as you stuffed your face into his shoulder. "Fantastic really."

The nurse blushed, "Well, if you're sure."

Pulling away from Ian, you turned to the nurse, "Thank you for checking up on him." You thanked her politely, and she smiled and left the room, leaving the two of you alone again.

"Where are we?" Ian asked, breaking the silence, finger twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You leaned forward, only inches from him, feeling his breath on your lips, "I believe you were about to rest, while I cuddled up beside you until visiting hours were over." You finished, brushing his unruly curls from his forehead.

Ian grinned up adoringly at you, "Yes, I was planning on it."

You smiled shyly at him, "Well, good." You said softly, moving over to sit beside him on the bed.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you laid your head on his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady, and you felt it in your very bones, filling you with warmth and contentment.

_____________________________________________________

Last chapter! I'm really proud of this tiny series :)

#ian malcolm x y/n #ian malcolm x reader #alan x ellie #ellie sattler #alan grant #ian malcolm fluff #ian malcolm x you #ian malcolm x female reader #ian malcolm #fluff #cute #slight angst #jurassic park x reader #jurassic park #x reader #x female reader #part 3

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norabrice1701 · 1 year

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Coincidence - Ch. 5, Pt. II

Dr. Alan Grant x Predoctoral Student Fem!Reader

Series Main List

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including protected sexual intercourse); older man/younger woman relationship (no underage); explicit language; dinosaur PTSD; pining and inappropriate crush; Alan Grant’s canon upper-body strength

It doesn’t take long to exit the car and duck under the small awning on the backside of the house. The door opens and warm light floods the space to reveal a functional, tidy kitchen. At quick glance, you can’t tell if its neat state is because he seldom uses it or he’s just clean with his habits - but having seen his office, you suspect the former. He toes out of his shoes and drops his briefcase beside them before padding down the small hallway, turning on more lights as he goes. You follow suit with your wet shoes and set your purse down before following him.

The house glows with golden light that bounces off warm wood paneling and shelves, leather couches and plaid armchairs. Piles of books rest here and there, intermixed with other curios of exploration - a globe on a spindle, binoculars and a leather case, magnifying glasses and various fossil specimens. It’s obviously a bachelor’s home, but it’s far from slovenly - more just… comfortably lived in. The thought brings a warm smile to your face as you silently follow him past the main living room and into a large, adjacent room.

A tall and wide bookshelf dominates this room, lined with more books, spotted with artwork, and… are those vinyl records? You can’t help but step closer, squinting to better examine the narrow spines, and your smile widens. You’re not sure if you would have considered him to be a music fan, but there’s quite a surprising collection here. Glass clinks across the room, and you glance over your shoulder to see him standing at a bar cabinet opposite the worn, plaid couch and leather armchair.

Brown liquid sloshes against a glass as he pours and meets your gaze. “What’s your poison?”

“How about… whiskey?” It’s not your favorite, but it’s popular at the dig sites and you’ve acquired a taste for it.

A smirk of approval flashes across his face before he tips the already open bottle over a second highball, and more liquid pours out. With both glasses in hand, he skirts around the couch to hand you one.

With another heavy sigh, he holds his glass out. “Well, I guess… here’s to your next adventure.”

“Thanks.” You sound sadder than you would like as your glass meets his with a gentle clink. The whiskey is surprisingly smooth as it slides down your throat, warming you from within. He motions towards the armchair before he drops to sit on the couch, taking another long pull of his drink.

The chair’s springs feel a little worn, and you think it matches the style of the leather sofa in the living room - and the sudden thought that he bought two living room furniture sets and mixed them together makes you smirk against the rim of your glass. Swallowing another mouthful of whiskey, you glance back at the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you were a big music fan.”

His gaze follows yours to the bookshelf, huffing an amused sigh. “I don’t think I am, really. I inherited most of that collection from the couple that used to live here.” He taps a finger against his glass. “They were an elderly couple, downsizing… and they asked if I had any interest in it. Truthfully, I’ve barely listened to any of it, but it was less furniture to have to buy.”

You nod in consideration. “I suppose that does make sense.” Your gaze continues to sweep the room, and it looks like his office away from campus - or more like a study, perhaps. A desk rests behind the couch, flanking the bar cabinet, and the plaid couch looks comfortably broken-in as if it’s hosted him for many long nights of intellectual pursuits. Another silence falls, and maybe it should be awkward, but somehow… it’s not. Somehow, it’s enough just to sit with him now.

“Thank you.” He says at length, drawing your attention to his small, appreciative smile. “For what you did back there and not… not making a big deal about it. Or… asking any questions.”

“Of course.” You easily reply. “You… you didn’t make a big deal about it, either. Or ask any questions that day… of the storm.”

If possible, he looks even more world-weary as he takes another sip of whiskey. “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt. With the amount of damage done to the main tent canvas during that storm, you would have been hurt had you stayed, and that would have been on me.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” you counter genty. “I signed all the legal waivers to be there. If I hurt myself because of a fucking panic attack, then that would have been no one’s fault but mine for not… well, for not admitting that I was a safety hazard to the excavation.”

“You’re not a safety hazard.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Not anymore than I am because I…” His words trail off with a sigh before bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t know what I am…”

You wet your top lip before taking another sip of the heady liquor. “Well, who says that you have to be anything more than just yourself?”

He goes still against the couch for a long moment before raising his head. His gaze finds yours as his brow furrows in deep contemplation. You can’t tell what he’s thinking behind those mesmerizing, slate-blue eyes of his, but you don't dare shy away from his gaze. In fact, you want to commit everything about it to memory as your heart starts racing.

His eyes narrow with a familiar sharp, shrewd edge. “You know… out of all your peers, you’re the only one who hasn’t once asked me about it.” He tilts his head in further interest. “I know it’s not for your lack of curiosity - you’re far too bright for that - so, that must mean it was a deliberate choice on your part….” The corner of his mouth lifts with a knowing edge. “You’ve chosen not to ask me about the articles, the rumors, or about the island, about… any of it.”

Your mouth goes dry and you resist the sudden urge to fidget against the chair. “Because it’s none of my business. It never has been.” Your fingers tighten against the highball. “Ever since the dig was canceled - ever since you told us not to give any statements to the media - you’ve known more than what you’ve been saying, but if you’re not saying it, then there must be a good reason why. And asking you just seemed… disrespectful.”

His shoulders sag under some invisible weight and he exhales another deep sigh before lifting his glass and draining it. His tongue darts out to catch a stray drop on his bottom lip as his eyes turn distant. “It’s worse at night,” he whispers solemnly. “The moving shadows, the flashing lights… yes, the T-Rex shook the ground when she walked, but she was adept at hiding it during the hunt. But the raptors…” his words trail off with a trembling sigh. “Both stunning - fascinating in their intelligence - and utterly… terrifying.”

You forget how to breathe, shocked by the gravity of his words.

He purses his lips, fingers clenching around the empty glass as if regretting its empty state. “There was one moment… the two raptors had us flanked, had the advantage… and there was nothing….” He shakes his head with a trembling breath and horrific memory. “Absolute death stared me in the face and all I could do was stare helplessly back…”

You wait on baited breath, speechless and dumbfounded.

He gives another helpless shake of his head. “And, then when it didn’t come… and you find yourself back in the normal world - buying groceries, doing laundry, making small talk with the neighbors - but you’re still shell shocked by it, by all of it, by suddenly… coming face-to-face with creatures that have been extinct for 65 million years, that I’ve devoted my life to study-” His voice chokes up, suddenly pushing to his feet and avoiding your gaze as he returns to the bar cabinet.

His sudden motion stirs you to action, and you swallow the rest of your whiskey before rising and joining him at the cabinet. He pours another measure for himself, and you hold your glass out for a second round. Your eyes linger on his profile all the while, wanting so desperately to reach out and touch him - to soothe his troubled brow, to wrap him in the tightest hug.

Your heart beats so loud that you wonder if he can hear it. “And you’ve carried all of that with you since… since you returned? There’s been no one that you could tell?”

“Ellie, of course.” He says before taking another hearty gulp. “But she was there, too - and we both… at first, we thought we could ignore it. But life never returned to normal, and neither did we.”

Your heart breaks anew as the silence stretches. Too many thoughts run through your head and you take a big drink of whiskey to help clear your head. But the growing fog at the corners of your mind tells a different story. Emboldened with another drink, your gaze returns to linger on the handsome definition of his profile - the strong line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the sweep of hair across his brow. What would it be to kiss his cheek? To trail your lips down to his, hearing his breath catch in the moment before his mouth meets yours?

With a trembling breath, you shake your head to steady your thoughts. “T-thank you for telling me.” You say softly, your voice thready in the silence. “I have been concerned for you these last months, you know. Watching you just lose yourself in your work, like… if you stopped, something horrible would catch you. And now… now, it makes perfect sense.” Heat rises in your cheeks and you take another fortifying drink of whiskey. “You bore all the questions and media scrutiny with dignity, though - you’ve never once lost your temper or told anyone to fuck off. Sounds like you’d be well within your right if you did, though. Hell, I think I would have done it at least once by now.”

Another wave of exhaustion overtakes him as he looks lost for words. Clearly everything he’s been through has taken quite the toll and continues to haunt him - and goodness, how can you leave him now? Err, not that you should stay the night - certainly not uninvited - but how can you go to New Mexico and leave him alone? If you’re the only person who knows what he’s been through, then that does mean he really has no one else…?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly, shaking his head with an air of shame. “That’s… a lot more than you bargained for tonight, I’m sure.”

“No - please don’t apologize.” You reassure as your gaze roams freely over his face. “I think you needed the outlet, quite frankly. I’m just sorry that it manifested in a panic attack…”

He glances over at you with a tired, lopsided smirk. “At least, I’m in good company - the best I could ask for, really.”

Your heart warms at the sentiment and you’re helpless to hold back an answering smile as you all but melt under his gaze. “Same goes for you, you know.”

Again, he holds out his glass to meet yours with another gentle clink before you each take another long drink. Endless questions swirl in the back of your brain because, seriously… what the fuck? Actual, living dinosaurs?! The how's and why's of such an impossible concept gnaw at your academic curiosity, urging you to keep asking him for details. But he looks so strung out and so tired, how could you possibly push him any further? In fact, maybe it's best if you just leave. Especially before you have the chance to do anything stupid Swallowing the last mouthful of heady liquor, you take a deep breath. “Well, I should… I don’t want to be a bad houseguest and overstay my welcome.”

“You haven’t overstayed anything,” he reassures gently. “It’s been nice to share a drink with you.”

An appreciative smile curves your lips. “You, too.” You turn from the bar cabinet and thread back around the couch. The movement upends the lightheaded fog in your brain and your balance falters, tipping you towards the couch. You catch yourself with a steadying hand, and okay… maybe your meager dinner wasn’t enough for drinking whiskey.

“Are you alright?” The gentle concern on his voice raises embarrassed heat in your cheeks as you try to offer a dismissive smile.

“Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.” You try to ignore the dubious look on his face but your vibrato falters nonetheless. “Maybe just… my dinner wasn’t hearty enough for two glasses of whiskey.”

An understanding look dawns on his face as he nods. “Well, if the dean would never forgive you for a car hitting me, then the dean would surely murder me if a former student gets a DUI on alcohol that can be traced back to my place.” His mouth curves with a suddenly shy, almost awkward smirk. “So, you can just… take my bed, and I’ll stay here on the couch.”

Your mouth nearly falls agape as your cheeks flame. “Oh no, that’s… not necessary. You don’t need to be all chivalrous like that. I can just - the couch will be fine.”

His eyes narrow with mild reproach as his grin sharpens. “Didn’t you just say that you don’t want to be a bad houseguest?” He taps a finger against his empty glass, waiting until you nod before continuing. “Then, stop refusing my hospitality.”

Words choke in your throat as he starts to walk around the couch. Should you thank him again? Should you try to offer more protests? Your head spins as you suddenly feel deep in over your head and your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Just, uh…” He turns back around towards you, offering a small smile. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You nod quickly. “Okay, thank you…” Your brain goes into overdrive, and, holy shit… you’re going to spend the night at Dr. Grant’s house.

In his bed.

By yourself.

Nothing about any of that should be real, and truly, such thoughts are best left to your secret midnight fantasies… yet, here you are. You long for another steadying drink of whiskey - or, perhaps water, better yet - and you exhale nervously. There’s no reason for you to freak out about this - and despite your initial protests, he’s being the perfect gentleman about the whole thing - and really, why should you complain about that? Especially if it’s going to let you sleep in his bed.

Looking for a distraction from your raging thoughts, you step back up to the wide bookcase and examine the spines of the vinyl record albums. Vaughn Monroe, Patsy Cline, Waylon Jennings, Dolly Parton - so many artists that you have passing knowledge about but can’t put your finger on any one specific song. It appears that the couple who used to live here had a heavy love of twangy country music. Was this their music room? Did they spend hours two-stepping or just listening and singing together?

Somehow, you can’t picture Dr. Grant… Alan doing that. In fact, you can almost picture a grumpy scowl if the idea of dancing around a living room was even suggested. The image shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does all the same.

The padding of bare feet on the hallway’s wood floor catches your attention, and you look up just in time to see him return. Gone are his clothes from the day, replaced with a soft looking white t-shirt, striped blue pajama pants and a bathrobe with a turquoise and brown Southwest-inspired pattern. It’s not the most coordinated look, but he seems perfectly at ease as he drops a pillow and blanket down to the couch.

“The bed sheets are relatively clean - washed within the last two weeks,” he says softly. “And if you want to change, I laid out a clean shirt and shorts for you. Also, you’ll find a toothbrush still in the package and a new toothpaste on the bathroom counter.”

Your heart warms with fond surprise. “Wow, uh - thanks. That’s all surprisingly thoughtful of you.”

He tips his head, meeting your gaze from under his lowered brow with an almost teasing, admonishing edge. “Just because I’m not married doesn’t mean that I’ve always lived alone.”

Your mouth curves to a soft smile. “I didn’t mean it like that… truly, I do appreciate it. I guess it’s just not what I expected…” Affection colors your voice as you hold his gaze for a long moment before blinking back to yourself. “Good night.”

He nods in agreement. “Good night. If you need anything, please just ask.”

You return his nod before stepping out into the hallway. Walking back to the kitchen, you retrieve your purse before disappearing into the bathroom. It doesn’t take you long to brush your teeth and get ready for bed - at least, to the best of your limited ability. His house is old enough to only have one bathroom in the main hallway, and you turn the light off, noticing that a faint yellow glow still shines out from his study. For a split-second, you debate going back to wish him good night again… but for what purpose? You don’t have anything else to say that hasn’t already been said.

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you glance around at the tidy, cozy interior of his room. If he ran around in a mad dash to clean up the room or make the bed for you, it doesn’t show. In fact, the chair next to his closet still hosts an assortment of random clothing, and your heart warms at the knowledge that he didn’t make an attempt to be anything other than himself around you. A smile tugs at your face as you approach the bed, setting your purse down next to the nightstand.

Your smile widens as you take in the quilted bedcover in shades of navy and maroon set against white sheets, along the clothes he laid out for you. Admittedly, sleeping in jeans and your shirt from the day doesn't sound comfortable, and you quickly shed your clothes. The cotton shorts’ elastic waistband rides low on your hips and his shirt hangs oversized on your bra-less shoulders, but they carry a clean, fuss-free scent that makes you even more eager to nestle under the bedcovers.

Pulling back the quilt, you slide against the soft sheets before reaching to turn off the nightstand light. Settling against the pillow, your heart pounds in the darkness and you still can’t believe where you are… and who’s just sleeping down the hall. Though, that just makes his bed feel all the more empty. Especially as you drown in his scent, rolling onto your side and snuggling against the pillow. Your eyes drift closed as your fingers reach out against the mattress.

What would it be to have him lying here beside you? To feel his body heat radiating under the covers and the promise of his skin within reach? Would his breathing grow steady as he falls asleep, or would it be heightened with anticipation, on the last verge of restraint like yours? And when your fingers find his arm in the stillness, would he roll towards you? Would his mouth find yours in a rush of unbridled desire as you finally learn the taste of his kiss? Your fingers would drift towards his waist, enticing him to settle atop you and let the weight of his body push you into the mattress while devouring each other.

Your body comes alive with the runaway fantasy, gasping softly as your hips twitch with aching need against the mattress. Fuck, you want him in here with you - want to say whatever it takes for him to just fuck you with abandon. Not that you consider yourself well-versed in ways to drive men wild, but any of the scenarios that you can conjure sound so cheap and contrived - and you’re not just going to walk through his house naked. You want him to want you, too, and that’s a far harder thing to get.

With a frustrated sigh, you roll over to your other side, gripping the sheet close. Before closing your eyes, you notice that no light shines under the door from the hallway. Perhaps it’s easier for him to just close his eyes on his couch and blissfully sleep, completely ignorant of the way you yearn for him.

That thought doesn’t help you get to sleep any faster, tossing and turning to try and dispel the heat on your skin. When next you open your eyes, the room appears darker in the late unknown hour, and you roll over, drowsily snuggling back into the pillow. His scent wraps around you like a comforting blanket, and it’s easy to imagine that he’s spooned up behind you with the sleep-warmed weight of his arm draped across your midsection. But a faint glow of light from the crack under the door catches your attention.

What is he possibly doing awake at - a quick glance to his bedside clock shows - 1:48 AM?

Pulling back the covers, your feet connect with the carpet as you walk over to open the door. The light spills out from his study and with a quiet yawn, you do your best to ignore the hallway’s chilly wood floor as you approach. Leaning a shoulder against the door frame, you pivot around the corner and your brow furrows in confusion. The plaid couch is empty, but the pillow and blanket reveal that someone has at least tried to sleep there. You tilt your head to rest against the door frame and cross your arms as you suddenly hear the sound of running water in the dark kitchen.

A smirk teases your lips as you glance over, watching him move in the shadows and emerge back into the soft glow from the study’s floor lamp. If possible, he looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him, not helped as his brow furrows with questioning concern. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” His voice carries the rasp of recent disuse and nothing about it should ripple goosebumps along your skin.

“You didn’t.” You say softly, as if anything louder would be inappropriate at such a late hour. “I was already awake and I saw the light…” Your words trail off as you take in his appearance, noting the disappearance of his rather unflattering robe before lingering on the careworn lines of his face. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah…” His mouth curves with a tired smile. “You could say that.” He raises his right hand to scrub across his face, and your gaze zeroes in on the dark mark high on his forearm, just beneath his elbow.

A strikingly elegant, black-ink tattoo in the shape of a double spiral rests on his skin, and everything about it sends your mind racing. You haven’t given it much thought since glimpsing it that one afternoon in his office, but it just seems so out of character for him. Yet here’s undeniable proof staring you in the face.

And speaking of staring… your cheeks flush as you finally look away, only to see the knowing expression on his face as he catches your obvious interest.

Your mouth goes dry as you search for something not too horribly awkward to say. “It’s beautiful,” you finally settle on. “A symbol of a rebellious youth?”

“Not quite.” Distant fondness tinges his voice as he glances down at the swirling lines of ink. “It’s Kirituhi - an art form based on Māori-style tattoos. A reminder of my second home.”

The excerpt of his bio from the newspaper flashes in your mind. “New Zealand, right?”

He nods slowly. “We had several people of Māori descent on Joan’s digs over the years - and their culture is just fascinating. Their connection to the past, to the present - to honoring what came before as a way to look to the future… well, that stuck with me considering that I spend my career digging in the past to build my own future.” He pauses to draw a breath as you listen with rapt attention. “And the spiral symbolizes the continuity of life - and, just as the dinosaurs had their time on this earth, so will the human race.” His mouth quirks with a sardonic grin. “I guess all we can hope is that our skeletons fossilize just as well as the dinosaurs’ to preserve our own legacy.”

Your heart melts as it goes out to him. It’s far more insightful than you would have expected, and that makes it all the more beautiful. Unable to stop yourself, you push off the wall and close the short distance between you. Your fingers reach out to his forearm, turning it for a better look in the low light. The piece reveals far more delicate, intricate lines up close, and you sweep an appreciative thumb over the inked art. “That makes it just…" Your voice drops to a whisper thin tone as the air thickens. "All the more beautiful."

You raise your gaze to his, wanting to drown in the azure pools of his eyes, and electricity crackles between you. The heat from his forearm curls through you to settle low in your belly. He’s so close now, and your long simmering arousal rises to a boil. Can he see it on your face? Can he see how much you want to kiss him? To have him wrap you in his arms and hold you close? To make the outside world disappear under the weight of him above you and the touch of him deep inside you?

Maybe it’s the late hour, maybe it’s the vulnerability of the moment, maybe it’s the fire singing in your blood - but you let your hand trail up from his tattoo, up over his exposed bicep and the sleeve of his t-shirt. A shuddering breath runs through him as he breaks your gaze, squeezing his eyes closed.

Your breathing quickens as you rise to your tiptoes and lean in, letting your breath skim the shell of his ear. “Tell me to stop and I will.” You whisper, emboldened by the maddening scent of his skin as another shuddering breath leaves him. “Tell me that you want to go back to your couch, and I’ll go back to your bed.” Your voice trembles as you sigh. “And I’ll keep pretending that I haven’t been wet for you all night.”

“Fucking hell…” His voice strains with the last thread of control as your fingers dance along the line of his shoulder. “You… we shouldn’t…”

Your fingers find the fine hairs along the nape of his neck as the tip of your nose brushes the shell of his ear. “Stop looking for a way to make this wrong if this is what you want, too.” Your other hand searches out his left hand that’s clenched at his side. “It’s okay, Alan,” you breathe as you draw his hand towards you. “Touch me… please.”

The sudden force of his kiss makes you dizzy as his arms envelop you with the strength that you've fantasized about. Your heart soars as it races, meeting his embrace head on, devouring him as you want to be devoured. You cling to the broad plane of his shoulders as he crushes you close, the heat of him burning through your - his - borrowed clothes. The heady thought sends more liquid heat pooling in your core and, God… why are you still in the hallway?

You urge him forward, keeping the inferno of his body so close as you back towards the bedroom. His broad hands clench against the small of your back, groaning as he crowds you against the wall and the full press of your hips connect. The solid ridge of his erection makes your mouth water as you grind your hips forward. There's nothing about this man that you don't want, and you have no reason to hide.

"You have no idea…" he groans with an intoxicating, wild edge. "What hearing you does to me…"

Sparks shoot down your spine as your body burns. "Please, Alan," you whimper. "I need you."

The growl that rumbles in his chest bypasses all rational thought, and you nearly lose your feet as he pulls you away from the wall. Wrapped in his arms, tangled with his legs, trading kisses and nibbles and moans, your head spins until the solid weight of his bed appears behind you.

You paw at the hem of his shirt until he lifts his arms and the fabric slides free. Your eyes widen with hungry appreciation, wanting to map each facet of his chest with your tongue but you burn too hot for that patience right now. He snakes a calloused hand under your oversized shirt, cupping your breast with a maddening squeeze and delicious pressure. Pleasure shoots straight to your dripping core, a needy moan echoing in your throat as you arch against him.

"Please…" you breathe against his lips, gripping his waist to grind against his cock. "Fuck me… Alan."

He groans and his arms clamp around your midsection, all but dragging you fully onto his bed. The force of his strength takes your breath away as you push at the waistband of his pajama pants and underwear. There's no grace in the kisses that dissolve to gasping breaths or the scramble of hands to reveal bare skin. And when the tip of his cock slides through your wetness, your tandem guttural groans echo in the stillness of the bedroom.

"Wait, wait…" You manage to gasp, barely recognizing your own voice. "I'm not… we need -” your cheeks burn despite the intimate press of your bodies. "My bag has something, if you don't…"

He exhales a shuddering moan as if still struggling for control. Or perhaps he's embarrassed - a rational man of his intelligence so undone by his body. But then he skims his lips along your ear and his breath sears your skin. "And here I thought you were my innocent girl." The luscious, teasing rasp to his voice rushes more liquid heat through you. "Are you always so prepared, hmm?"

You struggle to breathe through the blinding surge of arousal. "A girl never knows when she'll meet the right guy…" Your nails dig into his back for emphasis, rewarded with his delicious gasp as you cradle his hips closer to yours. "And you've been the right guy for longer than I should admit."

"Fuck, don't say that…" His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder as his hips surge forwards. The thick slide of him through your soaked folds nearly undoes you, but you paw at his shoulder with urgent need.

"My bag… unless you have -" Your voice cuts off in a gasp as he shifts suddenly, reaching over you for the bedside table. The scrape of the wooden drawer and tear of foil heightens your anticipation before his strong, nimble fingers find purchase against your thigh. Following his coaxing movements, you spread your legs wide and wrap around his backside as he positions above you. His eyes blaze with wildfire as you lean up to kiss him, gasping as he eases forward in a slow, steady glide.

Your eyes roll back at the thick, full stretch of him as your body adjusts to the delicious invasion. The kiss turns to a heavy, moaning breath as the connection threatens your sanity. You can't remember the last time - if ever - you've been so full of man, and your toes curl as you sink blissfully back against the mattress.

"Having you in my clothes, in my bed… like this," his voice pitches deep as he drinks you in with dark, blown-wide eyes. "So goddamn gorgeous."

Words escape you as his hips roll back and surge forward, striking the deepest part of you. Electricity jolts through you as he thrusts again, and you surrender the last facet of your rational mind. Your body moves with his on primal instinct, driven to chase the euphoria promised each time he strikes your deep-rooted pleasure point.

You cling to him as he moves over you, against you, inside you - and you’re so fucking close. The coil at the base of your spine winds tighter with each stroke that builds a rhythm to ruin you for life. His pleasured groans and grunts of exertion mingle with your staccato cries as your body goes taut, arching against him. Your orgasim hits hard, stars exploding behind your closed eyelids as waves of euphoria rock through you. His hips stutter to a stop as he buries himself in you with a strangled groan of relief.

The moment stretches to an eternity as you hold him close, wanting to burn the memory of him like this into your brain. Your lips trail along the defined line of his jaw as he nuzzles your cheek, and your breathing starts to settle out. His mouth finds yours for a long, lazy kiss as the afterglow deliciously numbs your senses. You hum contentedly against his lips. “That was so… beyond fucking good.” Every muscle relaxes against the mattress as your eyelids drop heavily with exhaustion. “I hope you’re able to sleep a little better now.”

He half-sighs, half-laughs as the tip of his nose brushes yours. “Yeah… you, too.”

You meet for another, slow kiss before you reluctantly let him go. It’s not nearly as awkward as you tell yourself it should be as he retreats to the bathroom, returns with a warm washcloth for you, and he steps into your - his - shorts before rejoining you in bed. You debate reaching for your discarded underwear but the hem of his shirt falls long enough, and a lingering thrill whispers through you as your bare lower half reconnects with his skin.

In the room’s silence, he lays on his back as you snuggle up to his side. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you listen to the sound of his breathing, just existing with him as the waking world starts to yield to dreamland.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you refuse to let him go until you have to.

Series Main List

#sam neill #jurassic park #alan grant #alan grant x reader #alan grant x you #classic jurassic park #dr. alan grant #sam neill x you #sam neill x reader

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