Passing Shot [2/3] by Liondragon [stargate atlantis] (World Cup)
Part one. Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. Game spoilers, of course.
You KNEW I had to do this. You HAD to know.
Passing Shot (part 2/3)
Prompt: 90 minutes
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Content: Graphic m/m sex and chocolate. Adult. Gloriously un-beta'd.
Two minutes into the match, Radek Zelenka buried his head in his hands and said, "Sakra, sakra, sakra."
In the back of the room, big Sergeant Nyathi pumped his fist, booming a loud, "Yeah!"
By the thirty-second minute, Simona Doubek was clutching his jacket and shaking him. During half-time, Chuck scooted out and came back with a box of tissues.
Rodney actually stopped by and tapped his shoulder around the sixty-seventh minute. "You okay, Radek?"
"Heart attacks," gasped Radek. Simona was cutting off his circulation.
"Gee, Rodney, you're being nice," said Sheppard, who was sharing popcorn with his 2IC.
Rodney just growled at him. "I can't watch the Oilers till you watch your stupid U.S. soccer." (Elizabeth heard him mutter 'stupid Hermiod' which got him an eyebrow raise.)
"They're gonna lose," said John. Rodney glared.
Lorne lifted a shoulder, kicking the tissues down the table to Simona. "You're not the only one, Doc. I can't see Game Five of the NBA Finals till after tomorrow's matches."
Simona shrieked like she was dying, and Radek muttered, "Cech has it, he has it," Rodney threw his hands up and stomped off.
"Don't break Radek!" he yelled over his shoulder.
"This game is going to break me," Radek said mournfully. Lorne and Sheppard didn't have the heart to snark.
To his credit, Nyathi didn't say another word until the ninetieth minute. "How much stoppage time do we have?"
Three minutes.
* * *
"Hey, Doc." Lorne knocked on the door jamb. "You okay?"
Radek sighed. "Brigitte walked Simona to her quarters, so all is well."
"Ah." Lorne shifted from foot to foot, dark eyes traveling over Radek's disheveled Koller jersey and the bits of red, yellow, and green confetti in his hair. "I was wondering if you had security access to the Agro labs."
"Sorry? You do not have access?"
Lorne grinned. "Nah, it would be kinda funny if I opened it up. Closest I've been to that section is the greenhouses."
Radek pushed his glasses up. "You need a scientist, then? Should I ask why?"
"Actually I was thinking I should pay up for the last match. You were really bummed." He was all but shuffling his feet.
"Ah, our bet." The bitter taste of the last three minutes faded from Radek's mind. "So your chocolate is in the Agro labs?"
"The quartermaster," said Lorne enigmatically, "would kick me out of any other place."
Radek's eyebrows rose. Now he knew which of the Agro labs Lorne meant.
* * *
"I kinda lied about the chocolate," said Lorne, producing two cans from his pack. They were in the food-grade section; its meticulously labeled bottles made it seem like a medieval apothecary, except for the markered notes that said 'YUCK' or 'YUM' or 'W/ TUNA.'
Radek was clearing a space on the lab table. "Cooking chocolate!"
"Yup. I figured you'd want to test the goods first. 'Course, I only brought an apple and a couple of cracker packets."
"A suitable sample. Our own fondue party, very good." Radek adjusted his glasses, then picked out a wafer and bit into it. "We will need sugar and cream. Luckily, this is science department. Where there is coffee..."
Lorne laughed. It was a pleasant, open laugh. "Only the good stuff, right."
"Major, why are you not watching USA and Italy? Did Dr. Foschi threaten you?"
"I'm all footballed out, to tell you the truth. Don't tell anyone." Lorne found some measuring cups and helped with the sugar. "Besides, the U.S. won't advance or be eliminated, thanks to Ghana."
"Fuj... Please do not remind me."
"Sorry." Lorne watched him heat water in the double-boiler. "So you like Koller, huh? I always thought Nedved was kind of hot."
Radek nearly burned himself. "Ty vole...!" He shook his fingers in the air. "Ah, I am all right. More warning would be nice, please."
"What, that I like guys, or that we're melting chocolate together?"
Radek shook a finger at him. "Now that is bad line in any language. Who teaches you to pull-- Rodney?"
Lorne snorted a laugh. "So are you interested? 'Cause with one exception, I'm pretty discreet."
That caveat surprised Radek. "Exception?"
"Sheppard." Lorne shrugged. "When we got here, he was used to a 2IC he could bitch to, so. The Colonel isn't suited to nosebleed territory. Can't mess with the chain-of-command. Can't go any higher without hitting brass, or Dr. Weir." He fanned his hands. "We trade. We've got enough stuff on each other that it evens out."
Radek checked the temperature and added the chocolate. "Why do I not think of that? Person to bitch to. Rodney, he bitches to all under and above the universe, he bitches to the wormhole, so of course it hides in plain sight. Scientific insight is so random." He glanced up over his glasses, where Lorne had crept up to sniff at the chocolate, and perhaps at him. "Yes, I am interested. But only if you lock the door with your security code."
Lorne's bored-but-expectant look broke into a face-splitting grin. "No problem."
Radek peered at the chocolate, now sweating away. He set a timer, listening to Lorne set the crystals in the door, then said, "Take off your clothes, now."
The shock in those dark eyes was worth it. Lorne stood there for a moment, slack-jawed, before Radek added, "Have just watched heartbreaker loss to little team that scored same number of goals combined as our star player." He flicked his jersey. "Clothes, off, please."
Radek forgot how strong and quick Lorne was. Height-wise he was the same size as Radek, but his feet ate up the ground between them and before Radek knew it there was a fist in his jersey and a mouth on his lips. Lorne angled against him, and he could feel just how interested he was. Their mouths clashed till Radek hit the back of the lab table. Lorne yanked his shirt off one-handed.
"So you like Nedved," murmured Radek.
"Great chest, nice legs. Interesting hair. Kinda scruffy." Lorne detangled his dog-tags as his own solid chest and toned abs were revealed. He tossed the shirt. Radek's hands came up to touch all that well-conditioned musculature at the same time as Lorne pulled in for another kiss, fumbling one-handed with his pants while the other hand swept confetti from Radek's hair. "Scruffy," he repeated.
Radek groaned as Lorne's wide hands swept over the jersey, following the line of his ribs to the small of his back, and lower. "You are very direct," he observed.
"Thought it would work with you." Lorne's eyes crossed as Radek thumbed his nipples. "Yeah, uh, uh, good, that's great... uh, you know I'm more of a casual guy, right?"
"Casual," said Radek. It was a challenge to form English words while Lorne rubbed off on him through half-unbuttoned pants. "Good, yes, it does not explain--"
The timer beeped, but neither of them stopped thrusting, mouthing each other like they were the only warm bodies left on the planet. "Chocolate will burn," Radek finally got out as Lorne nipped down his jawline. He put his hands flat on Lorne's shoulders. Deep breaths. Lorne straightened after one last kiss.
He held on to Radek's jersey as he poured a little cream in.
"Not gonna put it all in, Doc?"
"In time, in time." Radek matched Lorne's unrepentant grin. "Must temper it first. You stay behind, it is hot."
"I'll say." Lorne draped himself over Radek's back. It was not proper lab procedure, but his sensitive parts were shielded for the most part.
Radek glanced back at him through smudged glasses. He could feel the heat through his jersey. "So, what is this directness? I have sign on forehead?"
"Sheppard kind of hinted." At Radek's raised brows, he added, "No details. Just, y'know, courtesy. Mixed civilian and military is in some ways harder than all-military. Signals get crossed." He leaned over Radek's shoulder and sniffed the bubbling chocolate. "Hard enough for guys like me who swing both ways. It's just twice the hesitation."
"Aha," said Radek. "I see. And I sympathize. Now, I think this chocolate is good, so where did we leave off?" He twisted and pushed Lorne back to a lab bench, one of the long wooden ones that the Athosians sometimes gifted them with. Lorne's knees bent and he collapsed on the bench, hands greedily going for Radek. The pause and the chocolate fumes had pushed them right to the edge. Lorne's cock jutted out of his boxers. Radek straddled the bench, Lorne's arms under his own and locked around his chest, enough support for Radek to roll his hips and let the major rub off on his football jersey.
"Ah God," Lorne said in a choked voice. "Jesus, can I mark you? I jus'... oh yeah."
Radek ground up against him, the rough fabric burning just right. Lorne's swollen lips promised relief. "Jo, jo, ah, yes," and Lorne's white teeth bit down at the base of his neck. "Jé!"
He shoved against the wall that was Lorne's compact body, and Lorne was gasping, shout muffled between his teeth and into Radek's skin. Hot fluid spurted over the jersey. Radek felt his support giving way, and he braced himself as they fell back. Lorne's head hit the bench with a thunk; he didn't seem to feel it.
"Oh man."
Radek could hear something above the ringing in his ears, and he lifted off to stagger over to the double-boiler. He took the chocolate off the heat, stirring in the sugar. When he turned around again, Lorne was looking up at him with glazed eyes. His legs were spread on either side of the bench, his cock still half-hard and nearly perpendicular to his flattened body. "Aw, sorry, Doc. Ruined your shirt."
Radek blinked, suddenly aware of the wet fabric. "It will wash off."
"You, uh..."
"One moment." Radek knelt at Lorne's feet. The major flexed his abdominal muscles and nearly sat up, but Radek pushed him back down. "Shoes. Inconvenient. And now that our apparatus is cooling, safe to take them off."
"Yours isn't cooling, is it?"
"One day," Radek said, "I will cure you of these bad pick-up lines."
Lorne just grinned, letting Radek strip him all the way. Radek made a concession to his own state of arousal and opened his fly. Say what one might about the American Air Force, they did keep their officers fit. Radek had seen statues that were less ripped, not as balanced.
"Mmm, hey, that really will leave a bruise." Lorne sounded worried.
"We will say McKay did it."
Lorne choked. Radek narrowed his eyes. So Sheppard had parted with a few details. Given the Colonel's fascination with McKay's oral talents, Radek shouldn't have been surprised that it had leaked into the military equivalent of trash-talk. Actually, he hadn't collected Rodney's wager yet. And since Lorne presumably had the latest version... "Do not tell me. Colonel Sheppard has not collected his World Cup winnings."
"Thought it was still group play," smirked Lorne. Radek pinched his hip for that one. "And Sheppard's not gonna bet on sports. He always knows the odds."
"I did not say he was betting. I imply merely that he is gambling."
Lorne shrugged even as his leg jumped from Radek's fingernails dragging over the crease of his hip. "Yeah, I hear you. Crazy, huh?"
"Crazier things have happened."
"Like maybe feeding me some chocolate?" Lorne stuck out his lower lip.
Radek pushed his glasses up. "Close guess. The idea is for me," he reached over and got a handle on the pot of cooled chocolate, "to feed on chocolate."
It might have been his imagination, or points lower, but Radek was certain Lorne's cock twitched when he said that. With his free hand, Radek handed him his glasses. "Place on table, please," and he had the satisfaction of watching Lorne extend his arms and flex his shoulders to do just that.
Radek let a dollop of chocolate drop onto Lorne's sternum, just below his dogtags. Immediately the man stuck a finger in it, and started licking. "More?"
Swallowing audibly, Radek dripped more chocolate on his chest, fascinated and turned on by the muscles jumping under the liquid warmth. "Krásný," he breathed.
"I'm gonna assume that's good."
Radek didn't answer, just moved the dogtags aside and coated all of Lorne's torso. Then he pulled off his jersey and bent down to lick.
"Oh my God." Lorne's arousal was immediate. Radek had the sudden, slightly hysterical thought that Lorne probably itched under his tac vests. To be so sensitive... Radek buried his nose in the salt-and-chocolate taste, feeling more free without the glasses, tongue flicking into Lorne's navel, teeth grazing the bottom edge of his pectorals. Lorne was whimpering, mouth parted over "Oh God, Doc," and "Fuck, please," until Radek took pity and dragged out his own cock so they could rub off on each other. It was then that Lorne ran out of vocabulary. His arms scrambled for purchase before finding the bench again; he hauled himself into a reclining position even as Radek pushed their hips together, the relentless friction making Lorne's head fall back.
Radek was right on the edge when he had the thought that he could never go on missions with Major Lorne and think of him the same way. He came up for air only to be captured by Lorne's mouth, mining chocolate with his tongue, and right then Radek grabbed his shoulders, on the edge of climax.
At that moment, Lorne glanced down. This reminded Radek of his plans; he managed to lift up enough to come all over Lorne's chocolate-covered chest.
"Made a mess," murmured Lorne some minutes later.
"Mmm, yes." Radek swirled a hand through the mix, making Lorne shiver and jump. "Want to try?"
"I'll try anything once," Lorne said, and leaned up to drag his tongue over Radek's stained, sweet-soaked hand.
Radek glanced over at his defiled football jersey, and felt slightly reconciled about Group E.
* * *
The other match was probably winding down by now, considering that Lorne had found him after halftime. Partly because it was in their job description, they cleaned up efficiently. Radek squirted something on his jersey till it looked like a beer stain. Lorne, busy scrubbing off with paper towels, pestered Radek to show him that trick, which only served to amuse.
They were washing off the double-boiler (after jarring up the remaining melted chocolate), when Lorne said, "You haven't collected from Dr. McKay, have you?"
"No..." said Radek slowly. He felt his cheeks heat up, as Lorne was gazing at him with a cross between a leer and a speculative look.
He was fairly sure that Lorne meant a couple of different things when he said, "We should do this again sometime."
Pairings: Zelenka/Lorne; implied Sheppard/Mckay
part three
You KNEW I had to do this. You HAD to know.
Passing Shot (part 2/3)
Prompt: 90 minutes
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Content: Graphic m/m sex and chocolate. Adult. Gloriously un-beta'd.
Two minutes into the match, Radek Zelenka buried his head in his hands and said, "Sakra, sakra, sakra."
In the back of the room, big Sergeant Nyathi pumped his fist, booming a loud, "Yeah!"
By the thirty-second minute, Simona Doubek was clutching his jacket and shaking him. During half-time, Chuck scooted out and came back with a box of tissues.
Rodney actually stopped by and tapped his shoulder around the sixty-seventh minute. "You okay, Radek?"
"Heart attacks," gasped Radek. Simona was cutting off his circulation.
"Gee, Rodney, you're being nice," said Sheppard, who was sharing popcorn with his 2IC.
Rodney just growled at him. "I can't watch the Oilers till you watch your stupid U.S. soccer." (Elizabeth heard him mutter 'stupid Hermiod' which got him an eyebrow raise.)
"They're gonna lose," said John. Rodney glared.
Lorne lifted a shoulder, kicking the tissues down the table to Simona. "You're not the only one, Doc. I can't see Game Five of the NBA Finals till after tomorrow's matches."
Simona shrieked like she was dying, and Radek muttered, "Cech has it, he has it," Rodney threw his hands up and stomped off.
"Don't break Radek!" he yelled over his shoulder.
"This game is going to break me," Radek said mournfully. Lorne and Sheppard didn't have the heart to snark.
To his credit, Nyathi didn't say another word until the ninetieth minute. "How much stoppage time do we have?"
Three minutes.
* * *
"Hey, Doc." Lorne knocked on the door jamb. "You okay?"
Radek sighed. "Brigitte walked Simona to her quarters, so all is well."
"Ah." Lorne shifted from foot to foot, dark eyes traveling over Radek's disheveled Koller jersey and the bits of red, yellow, and green confetti in his hair. "I was wondering if you had security access to the Agro labs."
"Sorry? You do not have access?"
Lorne grinned. "Nah, it would be kinda funny if I opened it up. Closest I've been to that section is the greenhouses."
Radek pushed his glasses up. "You need a scientist, then? Should I ask why?"
"Actually I was thinking I should pay up for the last match. You were really bummed." He was all but shuffling his feet.
"Ah, our bet." The bitter taste of the last three minutes faded from Radek's mind. "So your chocolate is in the Agro labs?"
"The quartermaster," said Lorne enigmatically, "would kick me out of any other place."
Radek's eyebrows rose. Now he knew which of the Agro labs Lorne meant.
* * *
"I kinda lied about the chocolate," said Lorne, producing two cans from his pack. They were in the food-grade section; its meticulously labeled bottles made it seem like a medieval apothecary, except for the markered notes that said 'YUCK' or 'YUM' or 'W/ TUNA.'
Radek was clearing a space on the lab table. "Cooking chocolate!"
"Yup. I figured you'd want to test the goods first. 'Course, I only brought an apple and a couple of cracker packets."
"A suitable sample. Our own fondue party, very good." Radek adjusted his glasses, then picked out a wafer and bit into it. "We will need sugar and cream. Luckily, this is science department. Where there is coffee..."
Lorne laughed. It was a pleasant, open laugh. "Only the good stuff, right."
"Major, why are you not watching USA and Italy? Did Dr. Foschi threaten you?"
"I'm all footballed out, to tell you the truth. Don't tell anyone." Lorne found some measuring cups and helped with the sugar. "Besides, the U.S. won't advance or be eliminated, thanks to Ghana."
"Fuj... Please do not remind me."
"Sorry." Lorne watched him heat water in the double-boiler. "So you like Koller, huh? I always thought Nedved was kind of hot."
Radek nearly burned himself. "Ty vole...!" He shook his fingers in the air. "Ah, I am all right. More warning would be nice, please."
"What, that I like guys, or that we're melting chocolate together?"
Radek shook a finger at him. "Now that is bad line in any language. Who teaches you to pull-- Rodney?"
Lorne snorted a laugh. "So are you interested? 'Cause with one exception, I'm pretty discreet."
That caveat surprised Radek. "Exception?"
"Sheppard." Lorne shrugged. "When we got here, he was used to a 2IC he could bitch to, so. The Colonel isn't suited to nosebleed territory. Can't mess with the chain-of-command. Can't go any higher without hitting brass, or Dr. Weir." He fanned his hands. "We trade. We've got enough stuff on each other that it evens out."
Radek checked the temperature and added the chocolate. "Why do I not think of that? Person to bitch to. Rodney, he bitches to all under and above the universe, he bitches to the wormhole, so of course it hides in plain sight. Scientific insight is so random." He glanced up over his glasses, where Lorne had crept up to sniff at the chocolate, and perhaps at him. "Yes, I am interested. But only if you lock the door with your security code."
Lorne's bored-but-expectant look broke into a face-splitting grin. "No problem."
Radek peered at the chocolate, now sweating away. He set a timer, listening to Lorne set the crystals in the door, then said, "Take off your clothes, now."
The shock in those dark eyes was worth it. Lorne stood there for a moment, slack-jawed, before Radek added, "Have just watched heartbreaker loss to little team that scored same number of goals combined as our star player." He flicked his jersey. "Clothes, off, please."
Radek forgot how strong and quick Lorne was. Height-wise he was the same size as Radek, but his feet ate up the ground between them and before Radek knew it there was a fist in his jersey and a mouth on his lips. Lorne angled against him, and he could feel just how interested he was. Their mouths clashed till Radek hit the back of the lab table. Lorne yanked his shirt off one-handed.
"So you like Nedved," murmured Radek.
"Great chest, nice legs. Interesting hair. Kinda scruffy." Lorne detangled his dog-tags as his own solid chest and toned abs were revealed. He tossed the shirt. Radek's hands came up to touch all that well-conditioned musculature at the same time as Lorne pulled in for another kiss, fumbling one-handed with his pants while the other hand swept confetti from Radek's hair. "Scruffy," he repeated.
Radek groaned as Lorne's wide hands swept over the jersey, following the line of his ribs to the small of his back, and lower. "You are very direct," he observed.
"Thought it would work with you." Lorne's eyes crossed as Radek thumbed his nipples. "Yeah, uh, uh, good, that's great... uh, you know I'm more of a casual guy, right?"
"Casual," said Radek. It was a challenge to form English words while Lorne rubbed off on him through half-unbuttoned pants. "Good, yes, it does not explain--"
The timer beeped, but neither of them stopped thrusting, mouthing each other like they were the only warm bodies left on the planet. "Chocolate will burn," Radek finally got out as Lorne nipped down his jawline. He put his hands flat on Lorne's shoulders. Deep breaths. Lorne straightened after one last kiss.
He held on to Radek's jersey as he poured a little cream in.
"Not gonna put it all in, Doc?"
"In time, in time." Radek matched Lorne's unrepentant grin. "Must temper it first. You stay behind, it is hot."
"I'll say." Lorne draped himself over Radek's back. It was not proper lab procedure, but his sensitive parts were shielded for the most part.
Radek glanced back at him through smudged glasses. He could feel the heat through his jersey. "So, what is this directness? I have sign on forehead?"
"Sheppard kind of hinted." At Radek's raised brows, he added, "No details. Just, y'know, courtesy. Mixed civilian and military is in some ways harder than all-military. Signals get crossed." He leaned over Radek's shoulder and sniffed the bubbling chocolate. "Hard enough for guys like me who swing both ways. It's just twice the hesitation."
"Aha," said Radek. "I see. And I sympathize. Now, I think this chocolate is good, so where did we leave off?" He twisted and pushed Lorne back to a lab bench, one of the long wooden ones that the Athosians sometimes gifted them with. Lorne's knees bent and he collapsed on the bench, hands greedily going for Radek. The pause and the chocolate fumes had pushed them right to the edge. Lorne's cock jutted out of his boxers. Radek straddled the bench, Lorne's arms under his own and locked around his chest, enough support for Radek to roll his hips and let the major rub off on his football jersey.
"Ah God," Lorne said in a choked voice. "Jesus, can I mark you? I jus'... oh yeah."
Radek ground up against him, the rough fabric burning just right. Lorne's swollen lips promised relief. "Jo, jo, ah, yes," and Lorne's white teeth bit down at the base of his neck. "Jé!"
He shoved against the wall that was Lorne's compact body, and Lorne was gasping, shout muffled between his teeth and into Radek's skin. Hot fluid spurted over the jersey. Radek felt his support giving way, and he braced himself as they fell back. Lorne's head hit the bench with a thunk; he didn't seem to feel it.
"Oh man."
Radek could hear something above the ringing in his ears, and he lifted off to stagger over to the double-boiler. He took the chocolate off the heat, stirring in the sugar. When he turned around again, Lorne was looking up at him with glazed eyes. His legs were spread on either side of the bench, his cock still half-hard and nearly perpendicular to his flattened body. "Aw, sorry, Doc. Ruined your shirt."
Radek blinked, suddenly aware of the wet fabric. "It will wash off."
"You, uh..."
"One moment." Radek knelt at Lorne's feet. The major flexed his abdominal muscles and nearly sat up, but Radek pushed him back down. "Shoes. Inconvenient. And now that our apparatus is cooling, safe to take them off."
"Yours isn't cooling, is it?"
"One day," Radek said, "I will cure you of these bad pick-up lines."
Lorne just grinned, letting Radek strip him all the way. Radek made a concession to his own state of arousal and opened his fly. Say what one might about the American Air Force, they did keep their officers fit. Radek had seen statues that were less ripped, not as balanced.
"Mmm, hey, that really will leave a bruise." Lorne sounded worried.
"We will say McKay did it."
Lorne choked. Radek narrowed his eyes. So Sheppard had parted with a few details. Given the Colonel's fascination with McKay's oral talents, Radek shouldn't have been surprised that it had leaked into the military equivalent of trash-talk. Actually, he hadn't collected Rodney's wager yet. And since Lorne presumably had the latest version... "Do not tell me. Colonel Sheppard has not collected his World Cup winnings."
"Thought it was still group play," smirked Lorne. Radek pinched his hip for that one. "And Sheppard's not gonna bet on sports. He always knows the odds."
"I did not say he was betting. I imply merely that he is gambling."
Lorne shrugged even as his leg jumped from Radek's fingernails dragging over the crease of his hip. "Yeah, I hear you. Crazy, huh?"
"Crazier things have happened."
"Like maybe feeding me some chocolate?" Lorne stuck out his lower lip.
Radek pushed his glasses up. "Close guess. The idea is for me," he reached over and got a handle on the pot of cooled chocolate, "to feed on chocolate."
It might have been his imagination, or points lower, but Radek was certain Lorne's cock twitched when he said that. With his free hand, Radek handed him his glasses. "Place on table, please," and he had the satisfaction of watching Lorne extend his arms and flex his shoulders to do just that.
Radek let a dollop of chocolate drop onto Lorne's sternum, just below his dogtags. Immediately the man stuck a finger in it, and started licking. "More?"
Swallowing audibly, Radek dripped more chocolate on his chest, fascinated and turned on by the muscles jumping under the liquid warmth. "Krásný," he breathed.
"I'm gonna assume that's good."
Radek didn't answer, just moved the dogtags aside and coated all of Lorne's torso. Then he pulled off his jersey and bent down to lick.
"Oh my God." Lorne's arousal was immediate. Radek had the sudden, slightly hysterical thought that Lorne probably itched under his tac vests. To be so sensitive... Radek buried his nose in the salt-and-chocolate taste, feeling more free without the glasses, tongue flicking into Lorne's navel, teeth grazing the bottom edge of his pectorals. Lorne was whimpering, mouth parted over "Oh God, Doc," and "Fuck, please," until Radek took pity and dragged out his own cock so they could rub off on each other. It was then that Lorne ran out of vocabulary. His arms scrambled for purchase before finding the bench again; he hauled himself into a reclining position even as Radek pushed their hips together, the relentless friction making Lorne's head fall back.
Radek was right on the edge when he had the thought that he could never go on missions with Major Lorne and think of him the same way. He came up for air only to be captured by Lorne's mouth, mining chocolate with his tongue, and right then Radek grabbed his shoulders, on the edge of climax.
At that moment, Lorne glanced down. This reminded Radek of his plans; he managed to lift up enough to come all over Lorne's chocolate-covered chest.
"Made a mess," murmured Lorne some minutes later.
"Mmm, yes." Radek swirled a hand through the mix, making Lorne shiver and jump. "Want to try?"
"I'll try anything once," Lorne said, and leaned up to drag his tongue over Radek's stained, sweet-soaked hand.
Radek glanced over at his defiled football jersey, and felt slightly reconciled about Group E.
* * *
The other match was probably winding down by now, considering that Lorne had found him after halftime. Partly because it was in their job description, they cleaned up efficiently. Radek squirted something on his jersey till it looked like a beer stain. Lorne, busy scrubbing off with paper towels, pestered Radek to show him that trick, which only served to amuse.
They were washing off the double-boiler (after jarring up the remaining melted chocolate), when Lorne said, "You haven't collected from Dr. McKay, have you?"
"No..." said Radek slowly. He felt his cheeks heat up, as Lorne was gazing at him with a cross between a leer and a speculative look.
He was fairly sure that Lorne meant a couple of different things when he said, "We should do this again sometime."
Pairings: Zelenka/Lorne; implied Sheppard/Mckay
part three