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Personal Best (a 'Lorne's Team' Interlude) (SGA) [R]
Title: Personal Best (A Lorne's Team Interlude)
Author: mandykaysfic
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Lorne/Parrish
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,200
Note: Follows directly on from 'Just Another Handy Ritual' but can be read as a stand alone.
Part of the 'Lorne's Team' series.
Summary: Parrish wasn't quite at his personal best during the mission that day. Lorne decides a private training session is needed.
Lorne followed Parrish from the post-mission check-up in the Infirmary to his quarters.
"I'm going to shower," said Parrish. He waved Lorne in the direction of the seat at his desk. He pulled out some clean clothes. He paused at the bathroom door and asked hopefully, "Coffee?"
"You got it." It was a simple matter to prepare coffee for two while he waited. Lorne knew where everything was supposed to be found. David had obviously straightened up a bit, as for a change he didn't have to guess where the coffee mugs had been stashed. Five mismatched glasses lined up on a shelf contained water and plant cuttings, so it was a good thing he hadn't asked for any kind cold drink.
"Do you think Dr Weir will be happy with the trade?" Parrish came out still toweling his hair. He'd been gone less than five minutes.
"The deal was in our favor, so yes."
When they'd settled in the chairs that faced the window, Parrish inhaled a breath of steam rising from his mug and sighed. He finished his drink before finally asking the question he'd been dying to since completing the trade ritual. "How much did I win by?"
Lorne grinned and shook his head. "Are you sure you really want to know?"
"Of course. This much," and he held his hand with thumb and forefinger a little way apart, "didn't really tell me anything."
"The chief's fingers are bigger than yours, but if you must know, it was barely an inch."
"Huh. I thought it was more."
"It could have been more."
"What do you mean?"
"Reed went back and measured. You were almost three inches short of your personal best. We could have got a month's worth of extra grain or something for that. But don't worry, that won't appear in my report."
"Three inches!" spluttered Parrish
"Yeah." Lorne's eyes twinkled. "You need to train more," he said firmly. "Get you back up there. I could help you."
"I'm sure you could, but it seems it's my solo distance that needs work, not pairs." When Lorne frowned, Parrish sent a smirk in his direction.
"Well, you'll need someone to measure, and I dare say I can provide you with some added...er...stimulation to help your performance. Visual, or, um, auditory assistance, that is." Lorne gave Parrish a look.
Parrish licked his lips. "Now?"
"After dinner, maybe," offered Lorne. "The training room's free. I checked."
"After dinner would be good."
They settled on a time and Lorne logged on to Parrish's computer to make the booking. Being as they were actually going to complete the measurements, it was easier to go where there was space and any necessary equipment.
* * * *
When the door to the red and gold room designated for special team training closed and locked behind them, Lorne didn't wait. He drew Parrish into his arms and kissed him as he'd wanted to since the trade ritual. "David." He murmured against the angle of Parrish's jaw. Watching Parrish stand naked in the sun, obviously enjoying whatever fantasy played out against his closed eyelids as he competed on behalf of Lorne's team and Atlantis had turned him on and concentrating on the subsequent trade negotiations with an erection straining at his pants had been difficult.
"Uh, uh."
Lorne ignored Parrish's hands pushing on his chest and tried to pull him closer for a moment.
"Evan."
Lorne groaned and leaned back reluctantly. "I know. Training session. This room is to be used only for team training sessions,” he parroted. “Let's get to it then." He stepped aside and started stripping off his clothes.
"Wait! If I'm not mistaken,you did promise me some stimulatory assistance of the visual kind."
"I guess I did." Lorne gave a laugh and hitched his shirt back onto his shoulders, although he left it undone. "Stop!" he ordered when Parrish yanked his shirt from his pants and began to pull it up. "This is a training session," he explained when Parrish paused and raised his eyebrows. "You may as well practice your strip tease routine."
"What? What strip tease routine?"
"The one we may be called on to perform at any time." He shook his finger, effectively silencing Parrish's blustered protest. "Don't think I haven't thoroughly studied Stackhouse's spreadsheets as well as Sheppard's. Yamato strips for them - apparently he's really got some moves." He settled himself comfortably on one of the sofas. "Come on. Da da da, dada da da." His version of the ubiquitous stripper's theme was surprisingly tuneful.
Parrish blinked and then assumed a sultry pose. He waggled his shoulders and shimmied his hips in such a way that Lorne stopped singing and gave into laughter that ended suddenly when Parrish stood naked before him. They stared at one another, neither moving until Lorne's breath hitched and Parrish took up his stance of the morning. One hand behind his head, the other at his cock, he held Lorne's gaze for a little longer and then slowly began to move his hand.
"Stop!"
Parrish sighed and lowered his hands. "What now?"
"We have to measure the distance, remember?"
A guilty flush stained Parrish's cheeks. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."
Lorne heaved himself up and put Parrish into position at a pre-marked line on the floor. He was about to return to his seat when he noticed Parrish's now wilted condition. He cursed the terms of the training session, but acknowledged the possibility of other situations where neither he nor Reed or Coughlin would be permitted to help out. He patted Parrish reassuringly on the shoulder instead, and then in a fit of fun, quickly tweaked his nipples. He skipped out of the way before Parrish could retaliate and took his seat again. "Ready? Go!" and he sang a few more bars to help reset the mood.
Who said training needed to be serious? Parrish grinned and with Lorne's encouragement, got back into the swing of things. He took up his pose, closed his eyes, and imagined Lorne's hand on his. When he came, he choked out Evan's name as the spurts of semen marked the floor. "How'd I do?" he wheezed, not waiting until his breathing evened out.
Lorne was having trouble breathing himself and he bent carefully to measure the distance between the starting line and the farthest edge of the longest streak. He checked the number against the team's master spreadsheet. "Damn. Still an inch short of your pb. You'll have to go again.” He paused when Parrish interjected with a breathy 'later, much later'. “Request denied. You can get another 'Recovery Time' trial in. I've noted the time. However, you'll be pleased to know you did break one record.” He paused provocatively and as expected, Parrish padded across the room to read over his shoulder.
“Where? Which one?”
“Number of spurts,” announced Lorne, proving he'd been watching closely. “You made nine this time, up from seven.”
Parrish murmured something indistinct but obviously pleased into Lorne's ear, which he followed up with a lick and a nibble as he slid Lorne's shirt off his shoulders. He cupped the bulge at Lorne's groin.
When Lorne shuddered and moved to turn into Parrish's arms, he felt a slap on his backside. “No sense wasting a training session. You can try and match my distance, or maybe you should work on your volume. Sir.”
END
Author: mandykaysfic
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: Lorne/Parrish
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,200
Note: Follows directly on from 'Just Another Handy Ritual' but can be read as a stand alone.
Part of the 'Lorne's Team' series.
Summary: Parrish wasn't quite at his personal best during the mission that day. Lorne decides a private training session is needed.
Lorne followed Parrish from the post-mission check-up in the Infirmary to his quarters.
"I'm going to shower," said Parrish. He waved Lorne in the direction of the seat at his desk. He pulled out some clean clothes. He paused at the bathroom door and asked hopefully, "Coffee?"
"You got it." It was a simple matter to prepare coffee for two while he waited. Lorne knew where everything was supposed to be found. David had obviously straightened up a bit, as for a change he didn't have to guess where the coffee mugs had been stashed. Five mismatched glasses lined up on a shelf contained water and plant cuttings, so it was a good thing he hadn't asked for any kind cold drink.
"Do you think Dr Weir will be happy with the trade?" Parrish came out still toweling his hair. He'd been gone less than five minutes.
"The deal was in our favor, so yes."
When they'd settled in the chairs that faced the window, Parrish inhaled a breath of steam rising from his mug and sighed. He finished his drink before finally asking the question he'd been dying to since completing the trade ritual. "How much did I win by?"
Lorne grinned and shook his head. "Are you sure you really want to know?"
"Of course. This much," and he held his hand with thumb and forefinger a little way apart, "didn't really tell me anything."
"The chief's fingers are bigger than yours, but if you must know, it was barely an inch."
"Huh. I thought it was more."
"It could have been more."
"What do you mean?"
"Reed went back and measured. You were almost three inches short of your personal best. We could have got a month's worth of extra grain or something for that. But don't worry, that won't appear in my report."
"Three inches!" spluttered Parrish
"Yeah." Lorne's eyes twinkled. "You need to train more," he said firmly. "Get you back up there. I could help you."
"I'm sure you could, but it seems it's my solo distance that needs work, not pairs." When Lorne frowned, Parrish sent a smirk in his direction.
"Well, you'll need someone to measure, and I dare say I can provide you with some added...er...stimulation to help your performance. Visual, or, um, auditory assistance, that is." Lorne gave Parrish a look.
Parrish licked his lips. "Now?"
"After dinner, maybe," offered Lorne. "The training room's free. I checked."
"After dinner would be good."
They settled on a time and Lorne logged on to Parrish's computer to make the booking. Being as they were actually going to complete the measurements, it was easier to go where there was space and any necessary equipment.
* * * *
When the door to the red and gold room designated for special team training closed and locked behind them, Lorne didn't wait. He drew Parrish into his arms and kissed him as he'd wanted to since the trade ritual. "David." He murmured against the angle of Parrish's jaw. Watching Parrish stand naked in the sun, obviously enjoying whatever fantasy played out against his closed eyelids as he competed on behalf of Lorne's team and Atlantis had turned him on and concentrating on the subsequent trade negotiations with an erection straining at his pants had been difficult.
"Uh, uh."
Lorne ignored Parrish's hands pushing on his chest and tried to pull him closer for a moment.
"Evan."
Lorne groaned and leaned back reluctantly. "I know. Training session. This room is to be used only for team training sessions,” he parroted. “Let's get to it then." He stepped aside and started stripping off his clothes.
"Wait! If I'm not mistaken,you did promise me some stimulatory assistance of the visual kind."
"I guess I did." Lorne gave a laugh and hitched his shirt back onto his shoulders, although he left it undone. "Stop!" he ordered when Parrish yanked his shirt from his pants and began to pull it up. "This is a training session," he explained when Parrish paused and raised his eyebrows. "You may as well practice your strip tease routine."
"What? What strip tease routine?"
"The one we may be called on to perform at any time." He shook his finger, effectively silencing Parrish's blustered protest. "Don't think I haven't thoroughly studied Stackhouse's spreadsheets as well as Sheppard's. Yamato strips for them - apparently he's really got some moves." He settled himself comfortably on one of the sofas. "Come on. Da da da, dada da da." His version of the ubiquitous stripper's theme was surprisingly tuneful.
Parrish blinked and then assumed a sultry pose. He waggled his shoulders and shimmied his hips in such a way that Lorne stopped singing and gave into laughter that ended suddenly when Parrish stood naked before him. They stared at one another, neither moving until Lorne's breath hitched and Parrish took up his stance of the morning. One hand behind his head, the other at his cock, he held Lorne's gaze for a little longer and then slowly began to move his hand.
"Stop!"
Parrish sighed and lowered his hands. "What now?"
"We have to measure the distance, remember?"
A guilty flush stained Parrish's cheeks. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."
Lorne heaved himself up and put Parrish into position at a pre-marked line on the floor. He was about to return to his seat when he noticed Parrish's now wilted condition. He cursed the terms of the training session, but acknowledged the possibility of other situations where neither he nor Reed or Coughlin would be permitted to help out. He patted Parrish reassuringly on the shoulder instead, and then in a fit of fun, quickly tweaked his nipples. He skipped out of the way before Parrish could retaliate and took his seat again. "Ready? Go!" and he sang a few more bars to help reset the mood.
Who said training needed to be serious? Parrish grinned and with Lorne's encouragement, got back into the swing of things. He took up his pose, closed his eyes, and imagined Lorne's hand on his. When he came, he choked out Evan's name as the spurts of semen marked the floor. "How'd I do?" he wheezed, not waiting until his breathing evened out.
Lorne was having trouble breathing himself and he bent carefully to measure the distance between the starting line and the farthest edge of the longest streak. He checked the number against the team's master spreadsheet. "Damn. Still an inch short of your pb. You'll have to go again.” He paused when Parrish interjected with a breathy 'later, much later'. “Request denied. You can get another 'Recovery Time' trial in. I've noted the time. However, you'll be pleased to know you did break one record.” He paused provocatively and as expected, Parrish padded across the room to read over his shoulder.
“Where? Which one?”
“Number of spurts,” announced Lorne, proving he'd been watching closely. “You made nine this time, up from seven.”
Parrish murmured something indistinct but obviously pleased into Lorne's ear, which he followed up with a lick and a nibble as he slid Lorne's shirt off his shoulders. He cupped the bulge at Lorne's groin.
When Lorne shuddered and moved to turn into Parrish's arms, he felt a slap on his backside. “No sense wasting a training session. You can try and match my distance, or maybe you should work on your volume. Sir.”
END