Darkroom 02 - Part 2
Title: The Darkroom of Atlantis
Author: Soledad
Category: Threesomes and moresomes - all varieties
Characters: Grodin, Kusanagi, Zelenka, Kavanagh, Lorne, Yamato, Other.
Pairings: Lorne/Yamato, Kavanagh/female implied, Miko/Grodin/Zelenka implied, Stackhouse/Markham implied, in this part.
Rating: Adults only!
Genre: PWP, Series
Warnings: Adult themes: cross-dressing, voyeurism, m/m sex
Summary: Major Lorne discovers the joy of roleplaying.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the settings or anything else. I only own the weird plotbunny and a few original characters
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
AN EVENING WITH GEISHA
A/N: Private Yamato is the marine played by Phoenix Ly in the 1st Season episode “Suspicions”. Sgt. Hagiwara is the Asian Gate technician sometimes seen in the background. All other characters are nameless faces from the show whom I gave an identity. Dr. Aram Moosekian is an original character, “played” by CSI Miami’s Rory Cochrane.
I’m well aware of the fact that this little fantasy has nothing to do with the actual life and role of geisha in Japanese society. This is but a game for outsiders with too-vivid imaginations, offered to the customers of the Darkroom in friendly indulgence.
The particulars are the result of my Internet research on Japanese culture. I apologize profoundly if I got anything wrong. No disrespect was ever involved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Trying to give the Themenabend as much authenticity as possible, Miko and her helpers decided to recreate one of the hanamachi - the so-called “flower town”-areas, where geisha traditionally operated - on the large dance floor of the Pegasus Bar. This time, the event wasn’t restricted to those involved with the Darkroom. The extensive preparation would have been impossible to make in secret, and it would have been a waste of energy and resources to do all the work for Darkroom customers only.
It was a question of good organization, after all. They would offer the main event - Japanese food and music and the picturesque scenery - to everyone who wanted some off time. Some of the private rooms, however, would only open for certain persons, and no ATA gene would help those unwanted in those private areas. It could be done, with the proper discretion.
Besides, the ever-present chance of getting caught would be an additional thrill, Private Yamato declared. And he was an expert in such things, after all.
They enlisted the help of the Athosians for decoration, food and costumes. At the very least the “geisha” needed to be properly clad, and the Athosians, finding great fun in the idea, were able to provide the fabric and the basic food stuff as well as skilled hands to actually sew the garments. It was also
It had been a fortunate coincidence that Dr. Moosekian, one of Radek’s most trusted engineers (an energetic, though slightly gruff Armenian) had recently discovered the elaborate holographic system integrated in the walls of the dance floor. It had been programmed by the Ancients to provide a number of various landscapes - all illusionary and unsubstantial, of course, but beautiful illusions nevertheless. Miko and Peter spent two nights programming the typical Japanese interior of a geisha house, with flowering trees and a small stream with a bridge seen through the virtual windows, and everyone was very satisfied with the results.
“Very convincing,” Private Yamato, who’d practically spent his childhood on his aunt’s geisha house in Kyoto, nodded approvingly. “Now, we need several side rooms for the official tea ceremony… how many exactly?”
“Four, at the very least,” Dr. Nakamura, one of the engineers, said. “We have to keep the… outsiders entertained and safely away from the private areas. If we only perform the cha-no-yu, the simplest ritual, we could do four, each for ten people. That would be enough distraction, I think.”
“True, but where would we get four tea masters?” Dr. Marylin Okuda, one of the computer specialists, added.
“I can perform one ceremony,” Dr. Nakamura replied, “and Miko-san can do another one. The cha-no-yu can also be performed without a true master, so Dr. Shinsegawa and Dr. Eigoro can jump in. They’re experienced enough to do it properly. As Dr. Shinsegawa is not interested in… alternate programs - she says she’s beyond that age - she can keep an eye on the outsiders, so that they won’t get to see anything they’re not supposed to see.”
“Do we have final list of geisha volunteers?” Radek asked, studying his electronic notebook.
“We’ve received a surprisingly great number of offers,” Miko replied. “Sergeant Hagiwara and that Athosian girl, Marta, are coming as maiko - the heavy make-up will help concealing their true identity. Trwo of the infirmary nurses, Roseann Cho and Julie Ow also asked to be made up as maiko. They are Korean, but I doubt that anyone beside us would recognize the difference. Private Yamato, doctors Eigoro and Okuda, and, of course, myself, will come as geisha. And doctor Shinsegawa will be made up as the “mother” of the geisha house and oversee the entire event.”
“But we still accept volunteers, don’t we?” Yamato asked.
Miko nodded. “In theory, yes. But only for the official event. This is a… sensitive operation we’ll be running right under the nose of those not involved.”
“Does anyone have booked customers already?” Peter asked.
“So far only me and Private Yamato,” Miko replied; the bookings were the part that demanded the most discretion, so the task was left to her unique encrypting abilities.
Yamato’s ears perked up. “I have?” Obviously, he wasn’t aware of the fact that he had a secret admirer somewhere in Atlantis.
Miko nodded again. “I imagine you are up for a true adventure. The others are still free, but all of them wiling and ready to, erm… to go beyond traditional geisha entertainment,” she added, blushing slightly. “All the way beyond.”
There were identical grins all around.
“Haruko-san - Dr. Eigoro - offered to help with applying the traditional make-up to all those who want to come in Japanese style,” Miko then continued. “You can contact her directly. All those who want to book a ‘geisha’ for the night, contact me. I’ll send out a bulletin to regular Darkroom customers. Questions?”
There were none at the moment. Everyone seemed to look forward to the event, though. After the siege and all those deaths, they deserved to have some fun.
“I’m glad we can get this done before the Daedalus returns,” Private Yamato said thoughtfully. “I’d hate to try it under Colonel Sheppard’s nose. The man is way too nosy for my taste.”
“Not to mention Dr. Weir,” Dr. Nakamura, not exactly a fan of their expedition leader, commented. “She’d drag out some obscure law against sexual molestation to prohibit the very existence of the Darkroom.”
Peter, who’d lost his thin bi streak due to the constant exposure to Elizabeth’s frosty ‘charm’ - not to mention her dogged pursuit of him - grinned mirthlessly.
“I won’t be so sure about that,” he said. “But I won’t try anything like this under her nose, either. Let’s use the time that we have. When our fearless leaders return from Earth, the Darkroom will have to lie a lot lower for a while anyway. We’ve grown a little too bold for our own good lately.”
The others nodded in grim agreement. Under Radek’s rule, based on the simple politics of live and let live, things were somewhat easier. Teyla, nominally Dr. Weir’s temporary replacement, didn’t interfere with the private lives of the Earth people, either. When the leading staff returned, things would be different again.
Especially with Earth’s control becoming more real, due to the chance of regular contact. Their freedom would be cut back considerably, by getting within the reach of the authorities. But until then, they had some breathing space, and they intended to use it at maximum efficiency.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Private Harry Yamato, he with the black belt in tae kwan do and the deadly hands, gave his mirror image a critical look. A traditionally made-up oiran looked back at him from the mirror; not that more than perhaps three other people in Atlantis would have been able to make a difference between his looks and that of a geisha, but this was the persona he was going to embrace tonight: a highly cultivated female prostitute.
His fellow Marines - save from those who were Darkroom customers - would get a heart attack, did he knew who was hidden behind the heavy make-up and the ornate clothes.
And yet, he had been booked for tonight - not just any geisha in general but he in particular. Whoever the customer might be, they knew what to expect… and wanted exactly that. Which was a relief, as he still had the unkind memories of a past customer shocked and enraged when discovering the wrong set of sexual organs under the all-covering kimono. But, of course, such things couldn’t happen in the Darkroom. This wasn’t a third-class transgender club in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles; Miko-san knew what she was doing.
Yamato turned around with tiny steps - the traditional koma-geta, customer-made by a skilled Athosian wood-carver, didn’t allow abrupt movements. Balancing on the 10-inch platforms was a task that required a great deal of experience, which he, fortunately, had. He was wearing a furisode, a very formal women’s kimono that he had inherited from his aunt and brought to Atlantis labelled as sleeping garment. Not that he’d really hoped to put it to use any time soon, but it was a piece of home he wanted to keep with him.
Now he got the unexpected chance to show it off, and the hand-made kimono with the 42-inch-long, sweeping sleeves and the delicate, dark flower pattern on black, covering the entire garment, richly deserved that chance. The obi, tied in the front, as custom demanded (to distinguish the prostitute from the geisha, who always tied it on the back), was an intricate piece of work and fairly wide, giving his otherwise slim hips some emphasis. He turned his head and noticed with satisfaction how the heavy silk of the kimono emphasized the curve of his ass. A hundred or so kicking exercises a day could shape one’s backside very nicely, and one of the most satisfying things that being gay gave him was the fact that he could appreciate his looks unashamedly. The wig he was wearing was coiffed in the traditional shimada style, He was still a bit surprised that he’d managed to smuggle it through the otherwise tight controls as ‘padding material’.
He was satisfied with is looks. He really did look like a petite woman on high plateau shoes, his face painted like an exotic mask (Dr. Kavanagh had outdone himself with the bintsuke-abura and the white powder), and his kanzashi, silk flowers and jade hairpins, sat in the wig perfectly. He wondered who his customer might be and why they wanted him, the only male from the whole group of fake geishas, but he was determined to give the best performance possible.
Perhaps it was one of his fellow Marines, he mused. The DADT policy made it very hard for gay soldiers to find suitable partners, even for only one night, and cross-dressing wasn’t everybody’s way to keep some sort of privacy. But which one?
His gaydar had identified Sergeant Bates (his own team leader, no less) early on, ad he’d had his suspicions about Stackhouse for some time by now. But Bates was still recovering from his severe injuries he’d gotten during the siege, and Stackhouse was so obviously besotted with the seemingly clueless Markham (also recently and miraculously found alive) that Yamato doubted either of them would have the energy or the interest.
One of the closet cases, also. That was an interesting possibility, because he didn’t think anyone of the original troops would swing that way. And the newbies were still too new to know about the existence of the Darkroom to begin with. Unless one of them had an old buddy in the original crew, that is, who vouched for them.
There was still the possibility of one of the scientists, of course. They weren’t as restricted as the soldiers, and Yamato knew quite a few of them were bit, at the very least. He ruled out doctors Grodin and Zelenka - they would be busy enough with each other and with Miko-san - but everyone else was pretty much a possible chance. It would be fun to find out their identity.
As one of the entertainers booked in advance, Yamato had been assigned a small side room to perform the tea ceremony in private for his guests. Guests, in plural, to be more accurate, as Miko-san had warned him, just before he’d been made up, that he’d be entertaining two visitors. There was no notice whether both would be requiring sexual services or not. Both possibilities had their own attraction. After the long time of forced abstinence, two partners would be highly satisfying. On the other hand, concentrating on one partner could make the experience the more intense. He was open for both versions.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When he arrived at his room, it had already been prepared in the traditional fashion - with tatami (or the Athosian equivalent of them, knotted of some sort of local grass) on the floor, tea utensils laid out accurately around the small stone hearth, a calligraphic scroll with an appropriate place hung up in the tokonoma (the scroll alcove) with a simple chabana flower arrangement in front of it.
Yamato placed his bamboo flute and mentally checked his entertainment menu. The formal invitation he’d got two days earlier - hand-written in Japanese and with spotless phrasing in almost archaic speech patterns - showed that his guests wanted the full programme. Spreading his legs for them wouldn’t do alone… although it was required, as they’d specifically asked for an oiran. They wanted to be entertained, though; they wanted everything a highly skilled and educated professional courtesan could offer.
All of that was no problem for Yamato. He’d gone to the Marines because his parents couldn’t pay his college fee - and because his martial arts skills were an added bonus in that profession - but he wasn’t an under-educated simpleton. During the years spent with his aunt in the Gion Kobu district in Kyoto, he’d been taught traditional music, dance, poetry and calligraphy, as if he had been a girl (as his aunt discovered his orientation at a very tender age), and he kept those hobbies in the following years. A bamboo flute or the brushes were easy to keep on one’s body and they provided an excellent way to focus himself in-between dangerous missions. And cross-dressing provided him with an efficient way to keep his anonymity whenever he was on the lookout for a partner. His alter ego, a hokan character named Uraga, had become quite famous in Little Tokyo, before he’d opted for the Atlantis mission. Nobody had ever guessed his true identity.
Accordingly, he had quite the repertoire. Aside from the traditional geisha skills, he also had a broad offer of jokes, erotic tales and skits, which usually belonged to the repertoire of the hokan, the male geisha. He could offer his services in whichever form his guests wanted. And he was truly looking forward to slip back into that role again. It had been too long.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He went through the official part of the Themenabend in a light trance, trembling with nerves and anticipation. As he was speaking in a soft, high-pitched voice and the heavy make-up covered his face like a mask, he remained unrecognized by everyone but the Darkroom personnel. It was funny to see the admiring - and totally clueless - looks of his fellow Marines; they would never associate the petite geisha with the sensuous roll of hips with the tough, gung-ho soldier who kicked their collective asses during hand-to-hand combat training on a daily basis. Yamato enjoyed the situation enormously, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to get to the more important part of the evening.
Finally, the beginning of the tea ceremony was announced, and the hosts left to their respective tea rooms to welcome their guests. Traditionally, each of them had been assigned a ‘maiko” to act as their assistant during the ceremony. Yamato’s hanto was Sergeant Hagiwara, the Gate room technician - a woman well-versed in tradition, as his customers seemed to wish for an authentic ceremony.
Nonetheless, the two tall men the hanto led in weren’t wearing any Japanese clothes but the closest thing possible to colonial British uniforms a la Madame Butterfly. They were also wearing eye masks that covered half of their faces, but of course, one of them was easily recognizable by the heavy mass of golden brown curls that reached down to his shoulder blades. Nobody in Atlantis had hair like Dr. Kavanagh, not even Halling, the Athosian leader, whose mane was a rich and pretty one, too.
This surprised Yamato a bit, as Dr. Kavanagh was considered straight as a board and twice as inflexible. But again, he was a scientist, and scientists liked to experiment. That, or the other man was the true customer, and Dr. Kavanagh had only come for the entertainment.
Or to watch them. Which, frankly, was fine with Yamato, who had a definite exhibitionist streak in him.
The more interested was he growing about the identity of his other customer. A big man this one was, too, the strong body in that almost-too-tightly fitting "uniform" spoke of a Marine, which was to be expected. A civilian wouldn’t have to be so cautious. But only the studying of that strong jawline made Yamato realize whom he was about to entertain in the most intimate way possible, and for a moment he was rendered speechless.
Who’d have thought that Major Lorne was gay?
Well, perhaps everyone had thought it for a moment or two. Stories about his close friendship with Dr. Parrish, clumsiest botanist in two galaxies and maker of the most excellent, natural lube from some of his beloved plants, had been circulating around the city ever since the major’s arrival. But why would he book a gay male geisha, then? Was it thunder in paradise, for which he needed an outlet, or was the rumour mill wrong, and Dr. Parrish was merely a good friend of his?
That was possible, of course. But the rumour mill of Atlantis was practically never wrong. And anyway, what was Dr. Kavanagh doing here? Had the two men known each other from earlier and was Dr. Kavanagh the one who vouched for the major by the organizers of the Darkroom? There was no other way an unproved newbie would have been allowed.
Whatever the case might be, Yamato had no time to do the proper guessing. He had a tea ceremony to perform, and it demanded great concentration.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Cha-no-yu literally means “hot water for tea” and is the simplest of all tea ceremonies, containing a single ritual with no food offered. Consequently, it only took Yamato and his hotan an hour to perform it with all intricacies involved, while a full ceremony with meal could have lasted as long as four hours. Despite all reverence for tradition, though, the final goal lay elsewhere in this case.
After the last bowl of usa cha (thin tea) had been offered and consumed, the host and his hotan cleansed the utensils and accepted the compliments from the guests for their art. Yamato answered them with a quote from Toyotomi Hideyoshi.
“When tea is made with water drawn from the depths of mind, whose bottom is beyond measure, we really have what is called cha-no-yu,” he said, with the proper bow, and keeping his voice high-pitched and feminine. “If you would share your wish with me, honoured guests, I could keep entertaining you in proper fashion. What would be your desire? Should I sing for you, or play the flute, or dance?”
“Actually, we would prefer something else,” Dr. Kavanagh said with a posh British accent that would have put Dr. Groding to shame, proving again that they were thoroughly enjoying their little Madame Butterfly fantasy. “Are you familiar with that particular skit in which the taikomochi needs to pretend pleasing himself for the entertainment of his danna? I think my friend here would greatly enjoy that performance.”
“Certainly, I know that skit,” Yamato replied in his best feminine manner, not even surprised that Dr. Kavanagh would know about classic erotic skits; the man was considered a perfectionist for a reason. “But that is performed by male entertainers.”
“You could pretend,” Major Lorne said, speaking for the first time in the evening. His eyes were glittering through the slits of his silk mask.
Yamato tilted his head to the side in a decidedly feminine manner. He loved games like this and was looking forward to play his part to the letter.
“It would be hard without the proper… equipment, my lord,” he said, batting his long eyelashes endearingly.
“I’d like to be the judge of that,” Lorne said, a bit harshly. Was he getting impatient?
Yamato pretended frightened obedience. “As you wish, my lord. Maiko, attend to me!”
Sergeant Hagiwara helped him out of the priceless kimono, as it would have been a crime to soil it. She removed the obi and the high platform sandals as well, leaving Yamato only in the hiyoku, a type of thin cotton under-kimono, and the tabi, the split-toed white socks. If one wanted to be completely authentic, he shouldn’t have worn the tabi at all, as oiran always went barefooted, even in winter. But his feet couldn’t have been mistaken for delicate female limbs, so he had to make some allowances for the sake of aestehetics.
“When I begin my performance,” he said to Hagiwara, still keeping the high-pitched, feminine voice,” I won’t have need for your services anymore. You will be relieved then.”
“Perhaps your maiko can entertain me in the meantime somewhere private, my lady?” Dr. Kavanagh asked, still using his fake - but very convincing - British accent.
Such a thing would have been unthinkable in Japan, of course, as maiko - apprentice geisha - weren’t allowed to entertain guests ont heir own. But they were playing out a fantasy here; and besides, Dr. Kavanagh’s request cleared an important fact for Yamato. It seemed that he would only have to service Major Lorne tonight.
“Certainly, my lord,” he said to Dr. Kavanagh. “And I shall do my best to entertain your honoured friend here, if I can.”
He was a bit startled when Major Lorne skittered over, close to him, on the tatami. Every Marine knew that sometimes big guys could move with alarming speed, but he hadn’t seen the major in action yet and hadn’t imagined him being this fast. A strong arm was wrapped around his waist from behind, and a large, rough hand parted the front of his hiyoku to rub his hardening length and to weigh his sack in a cupped palm.
“I’d say,” Lorne’s husky voice said, “that your equipment is well-designed to act out this particular scene, my lady. Imagine that you’re a taikomochi, a male. I’m your danna, and I want to enjoy your body. So, what would you do to satisfy and entertain me as it is my due?”
Yamato was amazed by the thought and detail Dr. Kavanagh and Major Lorne had put into their role. But again, that was the advantage of having a scientist on your team.
“I’d tell you, my lord, that while I am a geisha and a male, I do not lie with other males,” he whispered, his voice nearly breaking with need as the calloused palm of Major Lorne deftly worked on his flesh, massaging him to aching hardness.
“Oh, but I insist,” Major Lorne murmured, biting his earlobe, and not too gently. “I’ve paid a high fee for this ozashiki and I won’t leave it unsatisfied. So, what do you intend to do in order to please me?”
Yamato was hard pushed to act out his role properly, instead of dropping all fours and offer his ass for the taking. But his customer obviously wanted to play first, so play he would.
“Would it please my lord to watch me pleasure myself, hidden behind a screen as it is proper?” he asked as the role demanded. Of course, in real life all this would be just a joke, just pretending the act, but this was the Darkroom, and - apparently - Major Lorne’s private fantasy.
“It would,” the major replied, “but without a screen, and with you facing me. I wish to enjoy the beauty of your play unhindered.”
Yamato bowed his head submissively. “I shall obey. But my lord will have to release me first.”
Major Lorne let go of him, and Yamato arranged himself in the traditional seiza position - first kneeling, then sitting back, with the buttocks resting on the heels, the back straight and the hands folded on the lap - facing his customer. Even without the hard proof arching from between his legs, he couldn’t have denied being turned on. He did have a healthy streak of exhibitionism in his psychological make-up but barely any chance to live it out, and this opportunity was too good to waste it.
Sergeant Hagiwara, still acting out her role as the maiko faithfully, opened his hiyoku and pulled it back, baring his entire front and his shoulders to offer the customer undisturbed view of his body. Then she left the room in Dr. Kavanagh’s company, to play their own game to the proper end.
Yamato could physically feel Major Lorne’s eyes upon his naked skin. It was a feeling familiar to him. As tae kwan do and his other martial arts required a slim and lithe body, his remained slender and smooth like that of a sixteen-year-old, despite his true age and his strength. His customers in Little Tokyo’s transgender clubs always found that fact greatly appealing, and the burning eyes of Major Lorne spoke of the same kind of hunger. It promised the sort of great, hard sex afterwards that Yamato preferred - and had missed for a very long time. He’d always been attracted to strong, very masculine men, which didn’t make his situation in the Corps, surrounded by the men of his exact preference, always easy. Now he hoped he’d get what he needed, at least for one night.
First, however, he had to play his skit to its proper end. So he closed his eyes, laid hand upon himself and went to work with great concentration. He knew he wouldn’t last long, after how much the major had worked him up, but he was determined to make as good a show of it as he could.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” Lorne ordered quietly. “I wanna see you come apart with pleasure… just for me.”
It was hard to obey, he as too far gone already, but he did as he had been told, unable to keep a harsh moan from escaping. Sure, he’d done this before, there had been other men who liked to watch, but not in such a situation, not while on the other side of the door two hundred people were having a party, most of them completely clueless.
“That’s it,” Lorne said with a dark smile. “Sing for me, Madame Butterfly. Let me hear how much you enjoy yourself.”
He was already enjoying himself way too much. There was something deliciously improper in the whole situation, something dark and dirty that made his blood boil. He threw away all caution and brought himself to a shattering climax under the watchful eyes of Atlantis’ current military commander. If there was ever spitting at DADT, this was definitely it, even though Major Lorne was only a temporary replacement for Colonel Sheppard. He loved it.
He was still sitting there, his thighs trembling from the strain and completely unaware of his surroundings, when the towel that Sergeant Hagiwara had so reliably laid out exactly for this purpose, was pushed into his hands. The correct finishing of the skit demanded that he cleaned up himself, and so he did, without giving it a thought, acting on instinct, as thought was a nonexistent quality at the moment.
Then he felt a strong, warm body pressing against his back.
“That was beautiful, my lady,” Major Lorne murmured into his ear, “but now I will have to make you mine. Would you mind if I took you as I would take a man?”
Yamato shook his head, still incapable of coherent speech, amazed how the major was still able to carry on with the game, treating him as if he’d be a female - an oiran - indeed. It was… nice and safe, it gave them both the necessary distance, so that they would be able to face each other afterwards.
He felt the hiyoku being pulled off him completely, and a rough hand urged him to drop his upper body to his elbows. He obeyed eagerly, parting his thighs, offering himself for the taking. He needed to be pounded through the mattress badly… well, through the tatami, in this particular case, with no consideration for rug burns he’ll be having tomorrow, no doubt. The events of the Darkroom were way too infrequent for his taste, and he didn’t dare to approach anyone outside its anonymity.
No, being a gay Marine in such a small, closed community wasn’t always easy.
But Major Lorne was everything he’d hoped for and more. Including considerate - and highly efficient. After a minimum of prep work, he felt as if he’d been split in two by the impressive weapon of his superior officer, the hard thrusts stabbing his sweet spot unerringly, and explosions of white-hot pleasure were wracking his entire body.
If they ended up court-martialled, it would still be worth it, he thought vaguely, surrendering to a second, violent climax within record time. And the night was still young.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The events of the Darkroom were considered nonexistent by mutual agreement afterwards. So Private Yamato was surprised when he got called to Colonel Sheppard’s office only two days later. Considering that said office was Major Lorne’s revier in Sheppard’s absence, the surprise wasn’t necessary a pleasant one. Especially as he was just going off-duty, so it couldn’t be an official matter.
So was apparently Major Lorne, because he was shutting down his laptop when Yamato knocked on the door.
“Come on in,” he said. “I’m done, and nobody will be bothering us here.”
Yamato found it best to play stupid. “Sir?”
“We need to speak,” Lorne clarified. “About what happened between us.”
“By all due respect, sir, nothing happened between us,” Yamato said stiffly. “The person you encountered was my alter ego, Uraga - and he only exists in the Darkroom.”
“That would be a shame,” Lorne said, “because I liked him a lot and I’d love to meet him again. No,” he corrected himself thoughtfully. “actually, I’d probably like to meet you even more. Just the way you are, without games and fancy dresses and funny make-up that wouldn’t even let me kiss you.”
Yamato couldn’t believe his ears. Had his commanding officer just said that he wanted to fuck him again? That could end badly, for both of them.
“Sir,” he said, after recovering a little. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“Maybe not,” Lorne agreed, “but I’m sick and tired of my own trusted hand, and you let me have a taste of something I’d hate to lose. We can be quiet about the Darkroom, so why wouldn’t we be able to be quiet about the two of us?”
“Because in the Darkroom you’re just a customer, not my commanding officer, sir,” Yamato replied soberly. “Besides, I thought you had a thing running with Dr. Parrish. At least that’s what the rumour mill says, and it’s usually right here.”
“Oh, I did have a crush on David,” Lorne shrugged, “but he’s either completely clueless or not interested at all. And I couldn’t really come out and ask him.”
“Why not, sir? He’s a scientist; he can do as he pleases.”
“But I can’t,” Lorne sighed. “And I get the impression that he’s the romantic kind of guy. Even if he were interested in men, which is in no way certain, he would want to do the whole flowers and dinner thing. The dating and going slowly thing. I can’t do the first one and don’t have the time for the second one.”
“Nobody of us has,” Yamato agreed. Life was risky in the Pegasus galaxy for everyone, but twice as risky for the Marines, whose job was to get everybody else out of harm’s way.
“So I thought it would be better to find someone who understands it,” Lorne continued, “and that’s why I asked Calvin to book for me a male partner for that evening. He’d helped me in such things before.”
“Dr. Kavanagh?” Yamato asked in surprise. “But he’s a jerk… sir.”
“He can be that,” Lorne admitted, “but we know each other from SGC - we were on a few off-world missions together - and I knew I could count on him. I haven’t called you to chat about Calvin, though. I wanted to make you an offer.”
“What kind of offer, sir?”
Lorne rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this easy for me, are you? Very well, let’s call it an… an agreement. Obviously, I can’t offer much, and neither can you. We’re still Marines. What I can and would like to offer is a temporary arrangement, for as long as we both want it. No strings attached. When Colonel Sheppard returns, you won’t be my direct subordinate anymore - and I don’t think the difference of rank would be such a big problem.”
“And I can walk out of it whenever I want?” Yamato asked suspiciously. Something semi-permanent would be nice, but he didn’t want to walk into a trap.
Lorne nodded. “As long as you realize that in that case you will be walking out of it for good.”
“I can live with that, sir,” Yamato said with a shrug.
“Good,” Lorne said. “There’s only one catch. As long as our arrangement lasts, this,” he grabbed Yamato’s ass roughly, “is mine. I don’t share.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I’m a serial monogamist, isn’t it?” Yamato grinned. “I don’t do multiple partners, either. Terms accepted, sir.”
“Good,” Lorne yanked the younger man to him, kissing him hard. “Now we can do this properly.”
“Here?” Yamato all but squealed, and the high, feminine voice was not voluntary this time.
Lorne laughed. “Tempting as it is to bend you over the desk and fuck you senseless, it would be a bit foolhardy. People are used to drop by in Sheppard’s office without announcing themselves. No, I’ve found just the right spot for us.”
“Really? May I ask where, sir?”
“No, you may not,” Lorne grinned. “Where would be the fun in that? No, you’ll have to be ready all the time. I might order you to a storage room… to my own office… or a weapons chamber or a transporter… You’ll never know when to expect duty and when you’ll have to drop your pants and take it like a man.”
Yamato groaned and rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he had to admit that it would be fun. Plus it would lessen the risk of being caught with their pants around their ankles - literally.
Part 3
Author: Soledad
Category: Threesomes and moresomes - all varieties
Characters: Grodin, Kusanagi, Zelenka, Kavanagh, Lorne, Yamato, Other.
Pairings: Lorne/Yamato, Kavanagh/female implied, Miko/Grodin/Zelenka implied, Stackhouse/Markham implied, in this part.
Rating: Adults only!
Genre: PWP, Series
Warnings: Adult themes: cross-dressing, voyeurism, m/m sex
Summary: Major Lorne discovers the joy of roleplaying.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the settings or anything else. I only own the weird plotbunny and a few original characters
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
AN EVENING WITH GEISHA
A/N: Private Yamato is the marine played by Phoenix Ly in the 1st Season episode “Suspicions”. Sgt. Hagiwara is the Asian Gate technician sometimes seen in the background. All other characters are nameless faces from the show whom I gave an identity. Dr. Aram Moosekian is an original character, “played” by CSI Miami’s Rory Cochrane.
I’m well aware of the fact that this little fantasy has nothing to do with the actual life and role of geisha in Japanese society. This is but a game for outsiders with too-vivid imaginations, offered to the customers of the Darkroom in friendly indulgence.
The particulars are the result of my Internet research on Japanese culture. I apologize profoundly if I got anything wrong. No disrespect was ever involved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Trying to give the Themenabend as much authenticity as possible, Miko and her helpers decided to recreate one of the hanamachi - the so-called “flower town”-areas, where geisha traditionally operated - on the large dance floor of the Pegasus Bar. This time, the event wasn’t restricted to those involved with the Darkroom. The extensive preparation would have been impossible to make in secret, and it would have been a waste of energy and resources to do all the work for Darkroom customers only.
It was a question of good organization, after all. They would offer the main event - Japanese food and music and the picturesque scenery - to everyone who wanted some off time. Some of the private rooms, however, would only open for certain persons, and no ATA gene would help those unwanted in those private areas. It could be done, with the proper discretion.
Besides, the ever-present chance of getting caught would be an additional thrill, Private Yamato declared. And he was an expert in such things, after all.
They enlisted the help of the Athosians for decoration, food and costumes. At the very least the “geisha” needed to be properly clad, and the Athosians, finding great fun in the idea, were able to provide the fabric and the basic food stuff as well as skilled hands to actually sew the garments. It was also
It had been a fortunate coincidence that Dr. Moosekian, one of Radek’s most trusted engineers (an energetic, though slightly gruff Armenian) had recently discovered the elaborate holographic system integrated in the walls of the dance floor. It had been programmed by the Ancients to provide a number of various landscapes - all illusionary and unsubstantial, of course, but beautiful illusions nevertheless. Miko and Peter spent two nights programming the typical Japanese interior of a geisha house, with flowering trees and a small stream with a bridge seen through the virtual windows, and everyone was very satisfied with the results.
“Very convincing,” Private Yamato, who’d practically spent his childhood on his aunt’s geisha house in Kyoto, nodded approvingly. “Now, we need several side rooms for the official tea ceremony… how many exactly?”
“Four, at the very least,” Dr. Nakamura, one of the engineers, said. “We have to keep the… outsiders entertained and safely away from the private areas. If we only perform the cha-no-yu, the simplest ritual, we could do four, each for ten people. That would be enough distraction, I think.”
“True, but where would we get four tea masters?” Dr. Marylin Okuda, one of the computer specialists, added.
“I can perform one ceremony,” Dr. Nakamura replied, “and Miko-san can do another one. The cha-no-yu can also be performed without a true master, so Dr. Shinsegawa and Dr. Eigoro can jump in. They’re experienced enough to do it properly. As Dr. Shinsegawa is not interested in… alternate programs - she says she’s beyond that age - she can keep an eye on the outsiders, so that they won’t get to see anything they’re not supposed to see.”
“Do we have final list of geisha volunteers?” Radek asked, studying his electronic notebook.
“We’ve received a surprisingly great number of offers,” Miko replied. “Sergeant Hagiwara and that Athosian girl, Marta, are coming as maiko - the heavy make-up will help concealing their true identity. Trwo of the infirmary nurses, Roseann Cho and Julie Ow also asked to be made up as maiko. They are Korean, but I doubt that anyone beside us would recognize the difference. Private Yamato, doctors Eigoro and Okuda, and, of course, myself, will come as geisha. And doctor Shinsegawa will be made up as the “mother” of the geisha house and oversee the entire event.”
“But we still accept volunteers, don’t we?” Yamato asked.
Miko nodded. “In theory, yes. But only for the official event. This is a… sensitive operation we’ll be running right under the nose of those not involved.”
“Does anyone have booked customers already?” Peter asked.
“So far only me and Private Yamato,” Miko replied; the bookings were the part that demanded the most discretion, so the task was left to her unique encrypting abilities.
Yamato’s ears perked up. “I have?” Obviously, he wasn’t aware of the fact that he had a secret admirer somewhere in Atlantis.
Miko nodded again. “I imagine you are up for a true adventure. The others are still free, but all of them wiling and ready to, erm… to go beyond traditional geisha entertainment,” she added, blushing slightly. “All the way beyond.”
There were identical grins all around.
“Haruko-san - Dr. Eigoro - offered to help with applying the traditional make-up to all those who want to come in Japanese style,” Miko then continued. “You can contact her directly. All those who want to book a ‘geisha’ for the night, contact me. I’ll send out a bulletin to regular Darkroom customers. Questions?”
There were none at the moment. Everyone seemed to look forward to the event, though. After the siege and all those deaths, they deserved to have some fun.
“I’m glad we can get this done before the Daedalus returns,” Private Yamato said thoughtfully. “I’d hate to try it under Colonel Sheppard’s nose. The man is way too nosy for my taste.”
“Not to mention Dr. Weir,” Dr. Nakamura, not exactly a fan of their expedition leader, commented. “She’d drag out some obscure law against sexual molestation to prohibit the very existence of the Darkroom.”
Peter, who’d lost his thin bi streak due to the constant exposure to Elizabeth’s frosty ‘charm’ - not to mention her dogged pursuit of him - grinned mirthlessly.
“I won’t be so sure about that,” he said. “But I won’t try anything like this under her nose, either. Let’s use the time that we have. When our fearless leaders return from Earth, the Darkroom will have to lie a lot lower for a while anyway. We’ve grown a little too bold for our own good lately.”
The others nodded in grim agreement. Under Radek’s rule, based on the simple politics of live and let live, things were somewhat easier. Teyla, nominally Dr. Weir’s temporary replacement, didn’t interfere with the private lives of the Earth people, either. When the leading staff returned, things would be different again.
Especially with Earth’s control becoming more real, due to the chance of regular contact. Their freedom would be cut back considerably, by getting within the reach of the authorities. But until then, they had some breathing space, and they intended to use it at maximum efficiency.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Private Harry Yamato, he with the black belt in tae kwan do and the deadly hands, gave his mirror image a critical look. A traditionally made-up oiran looked back at him from the mirror; not that more than perhaps three other people in Atlantis would have been able to make a difference between his looks and that of a geisha, but this was the persona he was going to embrace tonight: a highly cultivated female prostitute.
His fellow Marines - save from those who were Darkroom customers - would get a heart attack, did he knew who was hidden behind the heavy make-up and the ornate clothes.
And yet, he had been booked for tonight - not just any geisha in general but he in particular. Whoever the customer might be, they knew what to expect… and wanted exactly that. Which was a relief, as he still had the unkind memories of a past customer shocked and enraged when discovering the wrong set of sexual organs under the all-covering kimono. But, of course, such things couldn’t happen in the Darkroom. This wasn’t a third-class transgender club in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles; Miko-san knew what she was doing.
Yamato turned around with tiny steps - the traditional koma-geta, customer-made by a skilled Athosian wood-carver, didn’t allow abrupt movements. Balancing on the 10-inch platforms was a task that required a great deal of experience, which he, fortunately, had. He was wearing a furisode, a very formal women’s kimono that he had inherited from his aunt and brought to Atlantis labelled as sleeping garment. Not that he’d really hoped to put it to use any time soon, but it was a piece of home he wanted to keep with him.
Now he got the unexpected chance to show it off, and the hand-made kimono with the 42-inch-long, sweeping sleeves and the delicate, dark flower pattern on black, covering the entire garment, richly deserved that chance. The obi, tied in the front, as custom demanded (to distinguish the prostitute from the geisha, who always tied it on the back), was an intricate piece of work and fairly wide, giving his otherwise slim hips some emphasis. He turned his head and noticed with satisfaction how the heavy silk of the kimono emphasized the curve of his ass. A hundred or so kicking exercises a day could shape one’s backside very nicely, and one of the most satisfying things that being gay gave him was the fact that he could appreciate his looks unashamedly. The wig he was wearing was coiffed in the traditional shimada style, He was still a bit surprised that he’d managed to smuggle it through the otherwise tight controls as ‘padding material’.
He was satisfied with is looks. He really did look like a petite woman on high plateau shoes, his face painted like an exotic mask (Dr. Kavanagh had outdone himself with the bintsuke-abura and the white powder), and his kanzashi, silk flowers and jade hairpins, sat in the wig perfectly. He wondered who his customer might be and why they wanted him, the only male from the whole group of fake geishas, but he was determined to give the best performance possible.
Perhaps it was one of his fellow Marines, he mused. The DADT policy made it very hard for gay soldiers to find suitable partners, even for only one night, and cross-dressing wasn’t everybody’s way to keep some sort of privacy. But which one?
His gaydar had identified Sergeant Bates (his own team leader, no less) early on, ad he’d had his suspicions about Stackhouse for some time by now. But Bates was still recovering from his severe injuries he’d gotten during the siege, and Stackhouse was so obviously besotted with the seemingly clueless Markham (also recently and miraculously found alive) that Yamato doubted either of them would have the energy or the interest.
One of the closet cases, also. That was an interesting possibility, because he didn’t think anyone of the original troops would swing that way. And the newbies were still too new to know about the existence of the Darkroom to begin with. Unless one of them had an old buddy in the original crew, that is, who vouched for them.
There was still the possibility of one of the scientists, of course. They weren’t as restricted as the soldiers, and Yamato knew quite a few of them were bit, at the very least. He ruled out doctors Grodin and Zelenka - they would be busy enough with each other and with Miko-san - but everyone else was pretty much a possible chance. It would be fun to find out their identity.
As one of the entertainers booked in advance, Yamato had been assigned a small side room to perform the tea ceremony in private for his guests. Guests, in plural, to be more accurate, as Miko-san had warned him, just before he’d been made up, that he’d be entertaining two visitors. There was no notice whether both would be requiring sexual services or not. Both possibilities had their own attraction. After the long time of forced abstinence, two partners would be highly satisfying. On the other hand, concentrating on one partner could make the experience the more intense. He was open for both versions.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When he arrived at his room, it had already been prepared in the traditional fashion - with tatami (or the Athosian equivalent of them, knotted of some sort of local grass) on the floor, tea utensils laid out accurately around the small stone hearth, a calligraphic scroll with an appropriate place hung up in the tokonoma (the scroll alcove) with a simple chabana flower arrangement in front of it.
Yamato placed his bamboo flute and mentally checked his entertainment menu. The formal invitation he’d got two days earlier - hand-written in Japanese and with spotless phrasing in almost archaic speech patterns - showed that his guests wanted the full programme. Spreading his legs for them wouldn’t do alone… although it was required, as they’d specifically asked for an oiran. They wanted to be entertained, though; they wanted everything a highly skilled and educated professional courtesan could offer.
All of that was no problem for Yamato. He’d gone to the Marines because his parents couldn’t pay his college fee - and because his martial arts skills were an added bonus in that profession - but he wasn’t an under-educated simpleton. During the years spent with his aunt in the Gion Kobu district in Kyoto, he’d been taught traditional music, dance, poetry and calligraphy, as if he had been a girl (as his aunt discovered his orientation at a very tender age), and he kept those hobbies in the following years. A bamboo flute or the brushes were easy to keep on one’s body and they provided an excellent way to focus himself in-between dangerous missions. And cross-dressing provided him with an efficient way to keep his anonymity whenever he was on the lookout for a partner. His alter ego, a hokan character named Uraga, had become quite famous in Little Tokyo, before he’d opted for the Atlantis mission. Nobody had ever guessed his true identity.
Accordingly, he had quite the repertoire. Aside from the traditional geisha skills, he also had a broad offer of jokes, erotic tales and skits, which usually belonged to the repertoire of the hokan, the male geisha. He could offer his services in whichever form his guests wanted. And he was truly looking forward to slip back into that role again. It had been too long.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He went through the official part of the Themenabend in a light trance, trembling with nerves and anticipation. As he was speaking in a soft, high-pitched voice and the heavy make-up covered his face like a mask, he remained unrecognized by everyone but the Darkroom personnel. It was funny to see the admiring - and totally clueless - looks of his fellow Marines; they would never associate the petite geisha with the sensuous roll of hips with the tough, gung-ho soldier who kicked their collective asses during hand-to-hand combat training on a daily basis. Yamato enjoyed the situation enormously, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to get to the more important part of the evening.
Finally, the beginning of the tea ceremony was announced, and the hosts left to their respective tea rooms to welcome their guests. Traditionally, each of them had been assigned a ‘maiko” to act as their assistant during the ceremony. Yamato’s hanto was Sergeant Hagiwara, the Gate room technician - a woman well-versed in tradition, as his customers seemed to wish for an authentic ceremony.
Nonetheless, the two tall men the hanto led in weren’t wearing any Japanese clothes but the closest thing possible to colonial British uniforms a la Madame Butterfly. They were also wearing eye masks that covered half of their faces, but of course, one of them was easily recognizable by the heavy mass of golden brown curls that reached down to his shoulder blades. Nobody in Atlantis had hair like Dr. Kavanagh, not even Halling, the Athosian leader, whose mane was a rich and pretty one, too.
This surprised Yamato a bit, as Dr. Kavanagh was considered straight as a board and twice as inflexible. But again, he was a scientist, and scientists liked to experiment. That, or the other man was the true customer, and Dr. Kavanagh had only come for the entertainment.
Or to watch them. Which, frankly, was fine with Yamato, who had a definite exhibitionist streak in him.
The more interested was he growing about the identity of his other customer. A big man this one was, too, the strong body in that almost-too-tightly fitting "uniform" spoke of a Marine, which was to be expected. A civilian wouldn’t have to be so cautious. But only the studying of that strong jawline made Yamato realize whom he was about to entertain in the most intimate way possible, and for a moment he was rendered speechless.
Who’d have thought that Major Lorne was gay?
Well, perhaps everyone had thought it for a moment or two. Stories about his close friendship with Dr. Parrish, clumsiest botanist in two galaxies and maker of the most excellent, natural lube from some of his beloved plants, had been circulating around the city ever since the major’s arrival. But why would he book a gay male geisha, then? Was it thunder in paradise, for which he needed an outlet, or was the rumour mill wrong, and Dr. Parrish was merely a good friend of his?
That was possible, of course. But the rumour mill of Atlantis was practically never wrong. And anyway, what was Dr. Kavanagh doing here? Had the two men known each other from earlier and was Dr. Kavanagh the one who vouched for the major by the organizers of the Darkroom? There was no other way an unproved newbie would have been allowed.
Whatever the case might be, Yamato had no time to do the proper guessing. He had a tea ceremony to perform, and it demanded great concentration.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Cha-no-yu literally means “hot water for tea” and is the simplest of all tea ceremonies, containing a single ritual with no food offered. Consequently, it only took Yamato and his hotan an hour to perform it with all intricacies involved, while a full ceremony with meal could have lasted as long as four hours. Despite all reverence for tradition, though, the final goal lay elsewhere in this case.
After the last bowl of usa cha (thin tea) had been offered and consumed, the host and his hotan cleansed the utensils and accepted the compliments from the guests for their art. Yamato answered them with a quote from Toyotomi Hideyoshi.
“When tea is made with water drawn from the depths of mind, whose bottom is beyond measure, we really have what is called cha-no-yu,” he said, with the proper bow, and keeping his voice high-pitched and feminine. “If you would share your wish with me, honoured guests, I could keep entertaining you in proper fashion. What would be your desire? Should I sing for you, or play the flute, or dance?”
“Actually, we would prefer something else,” Dr. Kavanagh said with a posh British accent that would have put Dr. Groding to shame, proving again that they were thoroughly enjoying their little Madame Butterfly fantasy. “Are you familiar with that particular skit in which the taikomochi needs to pretend pleasing himself for the entertainment of his danna? I think my friend here would greatly enjoy that performance.”
“Certainly, I know that skit,” Yamato replied in his best feminine manner, not even surprised that Dr. Kavanagh would know about classic erotic skits; the man was considered a perfectionist for a reason. “But that is performed by male entertainers.”
“You could pretend,” Major Lorne said, speaking for the first time in the evening. His eyes were glittering through the slits of his silk mask.
Yamato tilted his head to the side in a decidedly feminine manner. He loved games like this and was looking forward to play his part to the letter.
“It would be hard without the proper… equipment, my lord,” he said, batting his long eyelashes endearingly.
“I’d like to be the judge of that,” Lorne said, a bit harshly. Was he getting impatient?
Yamato pretended frightened obedience. “As you wish, my lord. Maiko, attend to me!”
Sergeant Hagiwara helped him out of the priceless kimono, as it would have been a crime to soil it. She removed the obi and the high platform sandals as well, leaving Yamato only in the hiyoku, a type of thin cotton under-kimono, and the tabi, the split-toed white socks. If one wanted to be completely authentic, he shouldn’t have worn the tabi at all, as oiran always went barefooted, even in winter. But his feet couldn’t have been mistaken for delicate female limbs, so he had to make some allowances for the sake of aestehetics.
“When I begin my performance,” he said to Hagiwara, still keeping the high-pitched, feminine voice,” I won’t have need for your services anymore. You will be relieved then.”
“Perhaps your maiko can entertain me in the meantime somewhere private, my lady?” Dr. Kavanagh asked, still using his fake - but very convincing - British accent.
Such a thing would have been unthinkable in Japan, of course, as maiko - apprentice geisha - weren’t allowed to entertain guests ont heir own. But they were playing out a fantasy here; and besides, Dr. Kavanagh’s request cleared an important fact for Yamato. It seemed that he would only have to service Major Lorne tonight.
“Certainly, my lord,” he said to Dr. Kavanagh. “And I shall do my best to entertain your honoured friend here, if I can.”
He was a bit startled when Major Lorne skittered over, close to him, on the tatami. Every Marine knew that sometimes big guys could move with alarming speed, but he hadn’t seen the major in action yet and hadn’t imagined him being this fast. A strong arm was wrapped around his waist from behind, and a large, rough hand parted the front of his hiyoku to rub his hardening length and to weigh his sack in a cupped palm.
“I’d say,” Lorne’s husky voice said, “that your equipment is well-designed to act out this particular scene, my lady. Imagine that you’re a taikomochi, a male. I’m your danna, and I want to enjoy your body. So, what would you do to satisfy and entertain me as it is my due?”
Yamato was amazed by the thought and detail Dr. Kavanagh and Major Lorne had put into their role. But again, that was the advantage of having a scientist on your team.
“I’d tell you, my lord, that while I am a geisha and a male, I do not lie with other males,” he whispered, his voice nearly breaking with need as the calloused palm of Major Lorne deftly worked on his flesh, massaging him to aching hardness.
“Oh, but I insist,” Major Lorne murmured, biting his earlobe, and not too gently. “I’ve paid a high fee for this ozashiki and I won’t leave it unsatisfied. So, what do you intend to do in order to please me?”
Yamato was hard pushed to act out his role properly, instead of dropping all fours and offer his ass for the taking. But his customer obviously wanted to play first, so play he would.
“Would it please my lord to watch me pleasure myself, hidden behind a screen as it is proper?” he asked as the role demanded. Of course, in real life all this would be just a joke, just pretending the act, but this was the Darkroom, and - apparently - Major Lorne’s private fantasy.
“It would,” the major replied, “but without a screen, and with you facing me. I wish to enjoy the beauty of your play unhindered.”
Yamato bowed his head submissively. “I shall obey. But my lord will have to release me first.”
Major Lorne let go of him, and Yamato arranged himself in the traditional seiza position - first kneeling, then sitting back, with the buttocks resting on the heels, the back straight and the hands folded on the lap - facing his customer. Even without the hard proof arching from between his legs, he couldn’t have denied being turned on. He did have a healthy streak of exhibitionism in his psychological make-up but barely any chance to live it out, and this opportunity was too good to waste it.
Sergeant Hagiwara, still acting out her role as the maiko faithfully, opened his hiyoku and pulled it back, baring his entire front and his shoulders to offer the customer undisturbed view of his body. Then she left the room in Dr. Kavanagh’s company, to play their own game to the proper end.
Yamato could physically feel Major Lorne’s eyes upon his naked skin. It was a feeling familiar to him. As tae kwan do and his other martial arts required a slim and lithe body, his remained slender and smooth like that of a sixteen-year-old, despite his true age and his strength. His customers in Little Tokyo’s transgender clubs always found that fact greatly appealing, and the burning eyes of Major Lorne spoke of the same kind of hunger. It promised the sort of great, hard sex afterwards that Yamato preferred - and had missed for a very long time. He’d always been attracted to strong, very masculine men, which didn’t make his situation in the Corps, surrounded by the men of his exact preference, always easy. Now he hoped he’d get what he needed, at least for one night.
First, however, he had to play his skit to its proper end. So he closed his eyes, laid hand upon himself and went to work with great concentration. He knew he wouldn’t last long, after how much the major had worked him up, but he was determined to make as good a show of it as he could.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” Lorne ordered quietly. “I wanna see you come apart with pleasure… just for me.”
It was hard to obey, he as too far gone already, but he did as he had been told, unable to keep a harsh moan from escaping. Sure, he’d done this before, there had been other men who liked to watch, but not in such a situation, not while on the other side of the door two hundred people were having a party, most of them completely clueless.
“That’s it,” Lorne said with a dark smile. “Sing for me, Madame Butterfly. Let me hear how much you enjoy yourself.”
He was already enjoying himself way too much. There was something deliciously improper in the whole situation, something dark and dirty that made his blood boil. He threw away all caution and brought himself to a shattering climax under the watchful eyes of Atlantis’ current military commander. If there was ever spitting at DADT, this was definitely it, even though Major Lorne was only a temporary replacement for Colonel Sheppard. He loved it.
He was still sitting there, his thighs trembling from the strain and completely unaware of his surroundings, when the towel that Sergeant Hagiwara had so reliably laid out exactly for this purpose, was pushed into his hands. The correct finishing of the skit demanded that he cleaned up himself, and so he did, without giving it a thought, acting on instinct, as thought was a nonexistent quality at the moment.
Then he felt a strong, warm body pressing against his back.
“That was beautiful, my lady,” Major Lorne murmured into his ear, “but now I will have to make you mine. Would you mind if I took you as I would take a man?”
Yamato shook his head, still incapable of coherent speech, amazed how the major was still able to carry on with the game, treating him as if he’d be a female - an oiran - indeed. It was… nice and safe, it gave them both the necessary distance, so that they would be able to face each other afterwards.
He felt the hiyoku being pulled off him completely, and a rough hand urged him to drop his upper body to his elbows. He obeyed eagerly, parting his thighs, offering himself for the taking. He needed to be pounded through the mattress badly… well, through the tatami, in this particular case, with no consideration for rug burns he’ll be having tomorrow, no doubt. The events of the Darkroom were way too infrequent for his taste, and he didn’t dare to approach anyone outside its anonymity.
No, being a gay Marine in such a small, closed community wasn’t always easy.
But Major Lorne was everything he’d hoped for and more. Including considerate - and highly efficient. After a minimum of prep work, he felt as if he’d been split in two by the impressive weapon of his superior officer, the hard thrusts stabbing his sweet spot unerringly, and explosions of white-hot pleasure were wracking his entire body.
If they ended up court-martialled, it would still be worth it, he thought vaguely, surrendering to a second, violent climax within record time. And the night was still young.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The events of the Darkroom were considered nonexistent by mutual agreement afterwards. So Private Yamato was surprised when he got called to Colonel Sheppard’s office only two days later. Considering that said office was Major Lorne’s revier in Sheppard’s absence, the surprise wasn’t necessary a pleasant one. Especially as he was just going off-duty, so it couldn’t be an official matter.
So was apparently Major Lorne, because he was shutting down his laptop when Yamato knocked on the door.
“Come on in,” he said. “I’m done, and nobody will be bothering us here.”
Yamato found it best to play stupid. “Sir?”
“We need to speak,” Lorne clarified. “About what happened between us.”
“By all due respect, sir, nothing happened between us,” Yamato said stiffly. “The person you encountered was my alter ego, Uraga - and he only exists in the Darkroom.”
“That would be a shame,” Lorne said, “because I liked him a lot and I’d love to meet him again. No,” he corrected himself thoughtfully. “actually, I’d probably like to meet you even more. Just the way you are, without games and fancy dresses and funny make-up that wouldn’t even let me kiss you.”
Yamato couldn’t believe his ears. Had his commanding officer just said that he wanted to fuck him again? That could end badly, for both of them.
“Sir,” he said, after recovering a little. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“Maybe not,” Lorne agreed, “but I’m sick and tired of my own trusted hand, and you let me have a taste of something I’d hate to lose. We can be quiet about the Darkroom, so why wouldn’t we be able to be quiet about the two of us?”
“Because in the Darkroom you’re just a customer, not my commanding officer, sir,” Yamato replied soberly. “Besides, I thought you had a thing running with Dr. Parrish. At least that’s what the rumour mill says, and it’s usually right here.”
“Oh, I did have a crush on David,” Lorne shrugged, “but he’s either completely clueless or not interested at all. And I couldn’t really come out and ask him.”
“Why not, sir? He’s a scientist; he can do as he pleases.”
“But I can’t,” Lorne sighed. “And I get the impression that he’s the romantic kind of guy. Even if he were interested in men, which is in no way certain, he would want to do the whole flowers and dinner thing. The dating and going slowly thing. I can’t do the first one and don’t have the time for the second one.”
“Nobody of us has,” Yamato agreed. Life was risky in the Pegasus galaxy for everyone, but twice as risky for the Marines, whose job was to get everybody else out of harm’s way.
“So I thought it would be better to find someone who understands it,” Lorne continued, “and that’s why I asked Calvin to book for me a male partner for that evening. He’d helped me in such things before.”
“Dr. Kavanagh?” Yamato asked in surprise. “But he’s a jerk… sir.”
“He can be that,” Lorne admitted, “but we know each other from SGC - we were on a few off-world missions together - and I knew I could count on him. I haven’t called you to chat about Calvin, though. I wanted to make you an offer.”
“What kind of offer, sir?”
Lorne rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this easy for me, are you? Very well, let’s call it an… an agreement. Obviously, I can’t offer much, and neither can you. We’re still Marines. What I can and would like to offer is a temporary arrangement, for as long as we both want it. No strings attached. When Colonel Sheppard returns, you won’t be my direct subordinate anymore - and I don’t think the difference of rank would be such a big problem.”
“And I can walk out of it whenever I want?” Yamato asked suspiciously. Something semi-permanent would be nice, but he didn’t want to walk into a trap.
Lorne nodded. “As long as you realize that in that case you will be walking out of it for good.”
“I can live with that, sir,” Yamato said with a shrug.
“Good,” Lorne said. “There’s only one catch. As long as our arrangement lasts, this,” he grabbed Yamato’s ass roughly, “is mine. I don’t share.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I’m a serial monogamist, isn’t it?” Yamato grinned. “I don’t do multiple partners, either. Terms accepted, sir.”
“Good,” Lorne yanked the younger man to him, kissing him hard. “Now we can do this properly.”
“Here?” Yamato all but squealed, and the high, feminine voice was not voluntary this time.
Lorne laughed. “Tempting as it is to bend you over the desk and fuck you senseless, it would be a bit foolhardy. People are used to drop by in Sheppard’s office without announcing themselves. No, I’ve found just the right spot for us.”
“Really? May I ask where, sir?”
“No, you may not,” Lorne grinned. “Where would be the fun in that? No, you’ll have to be ready all the time. I might order you to a storage room… to my own office… or a weapons chamber or a transporter… You’ll never know when to expect duty and when you’ll have to drop your pants and take it like a man.”
Yamato groaned and rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he had to admit that it would be fun. Plus it would lessen the risk of being caught with their pants around their ankles - literally.
Part 3