New Fic: Aural Stimulation - Part 1 (NC-17)
Well, I told you there'd be more Lorne fic. It'll probably have three parts and this will eventually be Lorne/Parrish. Written originally for
melagan, I'm also using it for Day 7 of
mmom.
Title: Aural Stimulation - Part 1
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Evan Lorne, McKay/Sheppard - NOT a threesome
Word Count: 1,260
Warnings: Masturbation, dirty talk
Spoilers: None
Summary: From beneath those dark lashes and out of those heart-melting eyes, he observes. His surroundings, the people, their conversations and the looks that pass when they think no one is watching.
Aural Stimulation - Part 1
To the casual onlooker, most members of the military contingent on Atlantis are no more than enigmas. Quiet, reserved, hulking men most of the expedition takes for granted. They stand guard in the gateroom and patrol the corridors and walkways of the city. They accompany science and other non-military teams off-world. For the most part, no one knows their names, if they've left families behind, if they've ever been loved or if their hearts have ever been broken.
Major Evan Lorne revels in the quiet anonymity his affiliation affords him. Only a few on Atlantis know, for example, of his interest in art and literature or that he loves to paint and is quite good at it. And even fewer know about his tattoo. That's one thing Evan likes about the transparent military barrier - no one ever notices that he studies. From beneath those dark lashes and out of those heart-melting eyes, he observes. His surroundings, the people, their conversations and the looks that pass when they think no one is watching.
Not that he's not noticed - he gets a lot of attention from the women. Hell, he even gets attention from some of the men. Most of the noticing leads nowhere and Evan doesn't tell the rest. That's another thing he enjoys about his obscurity. He's free to watch, to explore, to fan the flames of an attraction - or not.
He grins as he stows the last of his gear. He and his team just returned from M3X-227, or as his men call it, the green planet. This was the botanists' third trip and it was his responsibility to get them there and back without incident. Boring and hot as hell, he thinks maybe he'll suggest a night trip if they've a mind to go back. He checks his watch - almost 1630 hours. He hangs his tac vest inside his locker and heads for the east wing of the science labs.
Being an observer, he's learned that whenever his CO's team doesn't have an off-world mission, Colonel Sheppard seems to end up in the area of the science labs at around this time. Evan's also discovered a certain set of utility bays in the east wing. Two identical rooms - large closets really - that house crystal arrays and monitor the power output in that area. The two rooms are adjacent to one another and separated by a thin wall.
While sound does carry from one bay to the other, actual words can't be distinguished. That's why late one night, after switching patrol duty with Henderson, he'd made use of the acetylene torch he'd secreted earlier in the day to cut a tiny hole in the dividing wall. Not a hole to see through, but a hole to listen through. There's no need to see. He knows who uses the other bay. He's watched their meetings - like clockwork - noting times and circumstances. No, he doesn't need to see the occupants, but he does want to hear them.
Evan's been on the other side of the wall before, without the aid of the new listening device, and while the shuffling, the bumping against the wall, the muffled moans and voices are enough to get him off, he wants - no, needs more. Voyeuristic? Perhaps, but not the need to watch. It's enough for him to know who's making the sounds, but he has a burning need to hear them more clearly. Hear the full resonance of the moans and breathless obscenities; hear the unmistakable whisper of skin on skin or the gentle, wet noises of lips and tongues.
He enters one of the untenanted bays, the one they never use, and locks the door behind him. The others haven't arrived yet. Evan undoes his pants, pulls out his cock and strokes it absently. He leans back against the wall and just the thought of listening has him hard in seconds. Finally, he has the equivalent of a loudspeaker to heighten his fantasy.
His eyes drift shut and he wonders what the meeting will bring - a quick hand job, blowjob, a quick fuck? There's an electric hum deep in his belly at the thought of the pair - so hot, so needy, a shoulder banging against the wall inches away from him. He sighs, slides his hand up to collect the sweet, crystalline fluid, and thumbs it over the perfect, bell-shaped head of his cock. Thigh muscles stiffen as he squeezes his cheeks together, tugging on his sack with the other hand. Jesus, they need to hurry and he suddenly feels a pang of disappointment at the possibility they won't show. That feeling disappears when he hears voices in the hallway. The other door opens and closes and, God, he can even hear the tinny click of the lock.
Almost immediately, the sounds of sharp smacking and breath hissing in and out of nostrils filter in loud and clear from the other side. Evan thinks now it won't be a quick fuck. More likely a blowjob - those usually last longer, but not always. It doesn't even matter to him which one gets blown. Anticipation prickles his skin - he'll know soon enough.
Hot, breathless whispers interrupt the slick kisses. There's the sound of clothes rustling, a zipper and eventually McKay's throaty "suck me." The baritone-low register, along with the words, send a shiver through Evan that licks at the base of his spine. He exhales a heavy, muffled sigh as his dick hardens even more. Christ, just thinking of Sheppard with his lips wrapped around a cock has Lorne's toes curling for traction inside his heavy boots. He turns his head closer to the makeshift amplifier. Sloppy, wet noises slide into his ear, filling him with images of McKay, lips parted at the sheer pleasure of Sheppard's mouth, hands tangled in the Colonel's hair, hips thrusting forward and the Colonel taking it, moaning around McKay's cock, gripping McKay's hips - urging him on.
Evan shortens his strokes, faster now, playing over the head, the sensitive ridge lapping his palm with each pull. C'mon, McKay he silently pleads.
"Oh-oh fuck, John. Fuck. That's so-oh God"
Lorne's muscles galvanize. His balls tighten. He can hear Sheppard's moans trying to break free, but they're muted, held back by the mouthful of cock. "C'mon McKay, c'mon," Evan whispers, his hand a blur as McKay begins the quick panting that heralds his climax. Lorne feels it too. Like a reverse detonation, a numbing from his extremities inward - to his core - McKay's words paving the way.
"That's it. Take it, John. Take it all-Jesus, I-look at you. You want it-God, I love how much you-oh, oh…"
The rest is incoherent mumblings huffed out in jagged ejaculations, all of which wash over Evan like a knife edge, his body jerking to an orgasm that slams into him like a sucker punch. It lifts him up on the balls of his feet, his thighs like iron. The breath he's hoarded tears at his throat to escape in harsh, whispered gasps as the warm spurts fill his hand.
McKay's coming down, cooing out the last of his spasms in that way he has. To Evan, it's like the final brushstroke to the canvas, the last highlight, the perfect shadow. He's barely stroking himself now as his dick softens.
Sated, he hears more sharp, wet sounds waft from the other side. He decides to save for later the image of McKay probing Sheppard's mouth, tonguing every hidden crevice in order to taste himself.
Evan closes his eyes and waits for the CO and his lover to leave.
melagan, I'm also using it for Day 7 of
mmom.
Title: Aural Stimulation - Part 1
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Evan Lorne, McKay/Sheppard - NOT a threesome
Word Count: 1,260
Warnings: Masturbation, dirty talk
Spoilers: None
Summary: From beneath those dark lashes and out of those heart-melting eyes, he observes. His surroundings, the people, their conversations and the looks that pass when they think no one is watching.
Aural Stimulation - Part 1
To the casual onlooker, most members of the military contingent on Atlantis are no more than enigmas. Quiet, reserved, hulking men most of the expedition takes for granted. They stand guard in the gateroom and patrol the corridors and walkways of the city. They accompany science and other non-military teams off-world. For the most part, no one knows their names, if they've left families behind, if they've ever been loved or if their hearts have ever been broken.
Major Evan Lorne revels in the quiet anonymity his affiliation affords him. Only a few on Atlantis know, for example, of his interest in art and literature or that he loves to paint and is quite good at it. And even fewer know about his tattoo. That's one thing Evan likes about the transparent military barrier - no one ever notices that he studies. From beneath those dark lashes and out of those heart-melting eyes, he observes. His surroundings, the people, their conversations and the looks that pass when they think no one is watching.
Not that he's not noticed - he gets a lot of attention from the women. Hell, he even gets attention from some of the men. Most of the noticing leads nowhere and Evan doesn't tell the rest. That's another thing he enjoys about his obscurity. He's free to watch, to explore, to fan the flames of an attraction - or not.
He grins as he stows the last of his gear. He and his team just returned from M3X-227, or as his men call it, the green planet. This was the botanists' third trip and it was his responsibility to get them there and back without incident. Boring and hot as hell, he thinks maybe he'll suggest a night trip if they've a mind to go back. He checks his watch - almost 1630 hours. He hangs his tac vest inside his locker and heads for the east wing of the science labs.
Being an observer, he's learned that whenever his CO's team doesn't have an off-world mission, Colonel Sheppard seems to end up in the area of the science labs at around this time. Evan's also discovered a certain set of utility bays in the east wing. Two identical rooms - large closets really - that house crystal arrays and monitor the power output in that area. The two rooms are adjacent to one another and separated by a thin wall.
While sound does carry from one bay to the other, actual words can't be distinguished. That's why late one night, after switching patrol duty with Henderson, he'd made use of the acetylene torch he'd secreted earlier in the day to cut a tiny hole in the dividing wall. Not a hole to see through, but a hole to listen through. There's no need to see. He knows who uses the other bay. He's watched their meetings - like clockwork - noting times and circumstances. No, he doesn't need to see the occupants, but he does want to hear them.
Evan's been on the other side of the wall before, without the aid of the new listening device, and while the shuffling, the bumping against the wall, the muffled moans and voices are enough to get him off, he wants - no, needs more. Voyeuristic? Perhaps, but not the need to watch. It's enough for him to know who's making the sounds, but he has a burning need to hear them more clearly. Hear the full resonance of the moans and breathless obscenities; hear the unmistakable whisper of skin on skin or the gentle, wet noises of lips and tongues.
He enters one of the untenanted bays, the one they never use, and locks the door behind him. The others haven't arrived yet. Evan undoes his pants, pulls out his cock and strokes it absently. He leans back against the wall and just the thought of listening has him hard in seconds. Finally, he has the equivalent of a loudspeaker to heighten his fantasy.
His eyes drift shut and he wonders what the meeting will bring - a quick hand job, blowjob, a quick fuck? There's an electric hum deep in his belly at the thought of the pair - so hot, so needy, a shoulder banging against the wall inches away from him. He sighs, slides his hand up to collect the sweet, crystalline fluid, and thumbs it over the perfect, bell-shaped head of his cock. Thigh muscles stiffen as he squeezes his cheeks together, tugging on his sack with the other hand. Jesus, they need to hurry and he suddenly feels a pang of disappointment at the possibility they won't show. That feeling disappears when he hears voices in the hallway. The other door opens and closes and, God, he can even hear the tinny click of the lock.
Almost immediately, the sounds of sharp smacking and breath hissing in and out of nostrils filter in loud and clear from the other side. Evan thinks now it won't be a quick fuck. More likely a blowjob - those usually last longer, but not always. It doesn't even matter to him which one gets blown. Anticipation prickles his skin - he'll know soon enough.
Hot, breathless whispers interrupt the slick kisses. There's the sound of clothes rustling, a zipper and eventually McKay's throaty "suck me." The baritone-low register, along with the words, send a shiver through Evan that licks at the base of his spine. He exhales a heavy, muffled sigh as his dick hardens even more. Christ, just thinking of Sheppard with his lips wrapped around a cock has Lorne's toes curling for traction inside his heavy boots. He turns his head closer to the makeshift amplifier. Sloppy, wet noises slide into his ear, filling him with images of McKay, lips parted at the sheer pleasure of Sheppard's mouth, hands tangled in the Colonel's hair, hips thrusting forward and the Colonel taking it, moaning around McKay's cock, gripping McKay's hips - urging him on.
Evan shortens his strokes, faster now, playing over the head, the sensitive ridge lapping his palm with each pull. C'mon, McKay he silently pleads.
"Oh-oh fuck, John. Fuck. That's so-oh God"
Lorne's muscles galvanize. His balls tighten. He can hear Sheppard's moans trying to break free, but they're muted, held back by the mouthful of cock. "C'mon McKay, c'mon," Evan whispers, his hand a blur as McKay begins the quick panting that heralds his climax. Lorne feels it too. Like a reverse detonation, a numbing from his extremities inward - to his core - McKay's words paving the way.
"That's it. Take it, John. Take it all-Jesus, I-look at you. You want it-God, I love how much you-oh, oh…"
The rest is incoherent mumblings huffed out in jagged ejaculations, all of which wash over Evan like a knife edge, his body jerking to an orgasm that slams into him like a sucker punch. It lifts him up on the balls of his feet, his thighs like iron. The breath he's hoarded tears at his throat to escape in harsh, whispered gasps as the warm spurts fill his hand.
McKay's coming down, cooing out the last of his spasms in that way he has. To Evan, it's like the final brushstroke to the canvas, the last highlight, the perfect shadow. He's barely stroking himself now as his dick softens.
Sated, he hears more sharp, wet sounds waft from the other side. He decides to save for later the image of McKay probing Sheppard's mouth, tonguing every hidden crevice in order to taste himself.
Evan closes his eyes and waits for the CO and his lover to leave.