Valentine's Fic: Sometimes, It's Just Desire, Lorne/Sheppard, NC-17
Title: Sometimes, It's Just Desire
Author: Rubygirl29
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairing: Evan Lorne/John Sheppard
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Math geek John AU. John is on the Science Team, Evan is the military commander of Atlantis. Life has a way of complicating things.
Disclaimer: Fanfic, don't own, no money. Just love
Author’s Note: Dedicated to the memory of clwilson
"…Sometimes, It's just desire Another problem that you really don't want
But anyway, I ache for you …"
Evan Lorne pilots the jumper to safety despite the scorch marks on the sides and the drone-damaged nacelle. He looks back at the marines who are clustered around one of their own, bleeding heavily from his leg. They've wrapped his wound and are applying pressure. He ordered a medical team before they were through the gate and now he's hoping he's gotten them back to Atlantis in time.
The jumper grinds to a halt, damage preventing the usual smooth landing. The medics rush in with a stretcher and run off with the injured marine. The others file out, exhausted and nearly silent. Evan feels like every bone in his body has been broken. The constant interaction with the jumper tech has given him a raging migraine. One of these days Beckett will figure out an inoculation to control them, but until he does, Lorne will have to rely on good old Earth meds to relieve them.
He finally climbs out of the jumper. The bay is nearly empty; most of the spectators who had gathered during the drama have returned to their jobs or their rooms. The lights dim as the jumper shuts down. Evan walks slowly around the craft, assessing the damage. The worst is the nacelle, which is hanging by wires, and tilting the jumper nearly on its side. He stands there, his eyes blurring slightly. He doesn't hear the soft lagging footsteps approaching.
He does feel the weight of a hand on his shoulder; the thumb that caresses his neck, the warmth and the scent that is John Sheppard. "Rough mission?" John asks quietly.
"One of the worst," Lorne says. He can't take comfort right now. "I've got to get to the infirmary."
"Will I see you later?" John asks.
"I don't know." He really can't take Sheppard's comfort right now. He knows John means well, but what they have together - which may or may not be more than sex - isn't something he can handle right now. "I have to go," he repeats and leaves John standing in the jumper bay. Sheppard's puzzlement is almost palpable, but Lorne shrugs it off like an uncomfortable shirt.
The infirmary is organized chaos. Medical personnel are hurrying without panic while the marines are lined up along a wall. More than one of them is stained with Lieutenant Simon's blood. They had fought so hard to save him, as hard as they fought in any battle. Lorne had a lot of respect for them, and hopes he has earned their respect and trust.
They straighten when they see him; respecting his rank. "At ease," he says quietly. "How is the lieutenant?"
"Doc Beckett says he's holding on," the platoon sergeant supplies, and then softly. "He lost a lot of blood, sir."
Lorne knows the sergeant is not being accusatory, but he feels the guilt, nonetheless. There is a chair further down the passage and Lorne drops down into it. He leans forward and scrubs the palms of his hands down his face, as if that will make him feel less fatigued. It doesn't.
After what seems like an eternity, Beckett comes out of the operating theater. He's stripped off his protective surgical gown and gloves, but there is still a smudge of blood on his scrubs. He looks as weary as Lorne, but he is smiling slightly. He goes first to the marines. "Well, Lads, it looks like the lieutenant will be giving you orders again in ten days or so."
The marine sergeant just looks at Beckett and says, "Ooh-rah!" There are high-fives and grins and profane comments, but they are marines and they are like brothers. They head out, tired but re-energized by the good news.
"Colonel?"
"Thanks, doc, for saving the lieutenant. He's a good man."
"Were you hurt, lad?" Beckett crouches down, obviously concerned.
Lorne shakes his head, then winces. "Other than a headache? No."
"I can give you a shot."
"That's okay, doc. I've got meds in my quarters. I think I'll make my report and call it a day."
"No reports, Colonel. Get your rest. Doctor's orders."
Evan looks up and smiles slightly. "Will you write a note for Dr. Weir?"
"Lad, I think she'll understand." He gives Evan's shoulder a squeeze. "Go."
Evan nods and levers himself up. He feels nagging guilt over so much; being caught in an ambush by a Wraith dart, of getting hit with a drone that sheared off a shard of metal that pierced Simon's femoral artery, of turning his back on Sheppard who was only offering support.
He can't deal with any of that right now. He walks slowly down the corridors of Atlantis. Most are deserted aside from a guard in each sector. It's night, and quiet. His way to his quarters passes past the math lab. A dim blue light rims the door. Somebody is still awake. Lorne opens the door. Somebody is John. He looks up from his tablet as he hears the door. His hair is ridiculous, his cheeks are stubbled and his eyes are red-rimmed.
"Why are you still here?" Evan asks. "You look terrible."
"Thanks. I'm glad to see you, too." He turns off the computer and comes around the desk to face Evan. "You should talk." He touches the bloodstains on Lorne's BDUs. "Not yours?"
"No. It's Simon's. You know, the marine they carried out of the jumper."
"Zelenka says it's a miracle you were able to fly it home." He lifts up Lorne's chin. "It wasn't a miracle. It was you."
"Thanks, but it wasn't," Lorne says with a sigh. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."
"Sorry for what?" John is smiling at him. "How's the headache?"
"Horrible. I'm going to take my pills and go to bed. I'll see you in the morning?"
John, for the first time, looks uncertain. "Sure."
Evan does what he said. He takes a quick shower, throws his stained fatigues into a decontamination bag. Two migraine pills and ten minutes later, he's asleep.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
He is lost. He knows there is a way out of the Hive ship he is on. He wanders down endless corridors. There are no signs of the Wraith and the mist curling around him is cold, so cold. He makes a turn down a dark passage that ends in a wall. There is a panel on the wall that resembles the wall panels on Atlantis and Lorne waves his hand over it, opening the way into a vast chamber. Overhead, he can see the Wraith embryos. They are developing impossibly fast, and he know that he has to get out of this place; but he can't leave his marines behind. He just has to find them. He runs down the passage and makes another turn, his boots skidding on slick metal. There are cells here; veiled with web-like membranes. He takes out his K-bar and slices through the web, tearing it away with his hands. Lieutenant Simon's body falls forward. Lorne catches him with his hands, and he feels the warm gush of blood on his skin, slipping down his wrists. He can't see a wound. He can't stop the flow. He watches the life ebb from Simon.
"You killed him." A chorus of ghostly voices comes through the mist. "You killed all of us."
Lorne turns and the marines are dry husks, fed on by the Wraith. "No!" he screams and screams.
"Lorne! Evan! Wake up!" There are hands on his shoulder shaking him, and he sinks to his knees, still sobbing. This time, strong arms fold around him, holding him tightly. "Wake up, Evan. You're safe. You're safe."
Evan opens his eyes. He's not on the Hive ship. He's on the floor of Sheppard's quarters, and John is holding him, whispering soothing words against his hair. You're safe. You're all right.
He knows he's shaking. He can't help but burrow closer to John. "Come on, Ev. Let's get up off the floor." John pulls him up and Lorne does his best to get his feet under him despite his chills. When he's upright, John half-carries him to the bed and helps him lie down. He slides under the covers and spoons Evan, his body is hard and warm and Even knows this isn't right, but he can't pull away from the comfort John is offering.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean -"
"I know you sleep walk, Evan. It's all right. I'm just glad you came to me, first. Go to sleep. You're safe here."
Evan nods. He's suddenly so tired that he can't keep his eyes open. He shouldn't stay, but he can't leave. This isn't sex, this is comfort and stability and warmth. He sinks down into it. "Can I stay?" he asks, his voice sounding broken.
"Wouldn't have it any different." Lorne feels John's lips at the nape of his neck and he sighs, the last tremors of the nightmare fading.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
He wakes up to first light, blinking in the shadowy and unfamiliar surroundings. Where is he? Then he slowly becomes aware of the body spooning his; one warm arm resting heavily across his body, a leg thrown over his and breath stirring his hair. This much is familiar. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to think of yesterday - not yet. At least his headache is gone. He sighs, and that's enough to wake John.
"Better?" he mumbles, stretching.
"So far." He turns in John's arms. "Thank you."
"Why?"
"To begin with, you saved me from myself."
John's mouth quirks. "You didn't walk off your balcony. You came here." He nuzzles against Evan's neck. "That has to mean something."
Evan has to smile. He kisses John. Tentative, at first, then as they both realize they want more, deeply, intimately until they're both breathless and hard. John's hands slip under the waistband of Lorne's sleep pants and his fingers part him and flutter against his anus. Evan gasps, "John …"
"You want me to stop?"
"No!"
"Good." John rolls Evan to his back and strips him, and then himself. It's perfect the way their bodies fit together, their cocks nestled together, the pressure almost enough to bring Evan off. John slides down, takes Evan in his mouth, and hums. Evan isn't sure he's even still on the bed. He seems to be floating off as his orgasm builds. "John … I'm gonna -"
John lifts his head, his eyes blown and his voice shaking. "I want your taste." He licks across Evan's glans, and swallows as he comes. When he kisses Evan, he tastes like John, like himself, and it's intoxicating and beyond anything Evan has experienced. John is trembling above him, "Touch me," he rasps.
Evan takes his cock in his hand. The come welling from his shaft slicks Evan's hand as he brings John off, his semen erupting on Evan's hand and stomach as he climaxes. The scent of sex is pungent and fresh. Evan is a mess, smeared with his come and John's, and too warm and comfortable to move just yet.
"Yesterday was hard," Evan says into John's shoulder. "I didn't lose Simon's but I don't feel as if I did enough to save him."
"You got him back to Atlantis. What else could you have done?"
"Avoided the Wraith?"
"Are you clairvoyant?"
"We should have had better intel."
"And I wish I could solve this damn equation I've been working on for two weeks."
Evan snorts softly. "I thought you were some sort of super-mega mind."
"Please. I'm not McKay. And, no, I'm not asking him for help." He rolls off Evan. "We need to clean up. I'm starving."
Evan sighs. He knows John is right. They both have work to do, and desire has no place in their worlds of science and war. "You'll solve it, you know," Evan says as he pulls on sweats borrowed from John. It's early, but running into other members of the expedition isn't out of the question. He'd prefer not advertising that he didn't sleep in his own bed.
"And you'll go to the infirmary to see Simon's and he'll thank you for saving his life."
Lorne wants to believe John. He pulls Sheppard close for a final kiss. "I never want to minimize how much you mean to me or how much I need you."
"It's all good," John says. His fingers brush Evan's hair lightly. "All of it."
"Sometimes, I want you so much I ache," Lorne says. "I don't know how to do this."
"Leave that to me. We'll figure it out."
Evan kisses him deeply and instantly wants to drag him back to the bed. He doesn't, even though he sees the same thought in John's eyes. There will be time later, for all the words and all the needs and all the desire in the world.
The End
Author: Rubygirl29
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters/Pairing: Evan Lorne/John Sheppard
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Math geek John AU. John is on the Science Team, Evan is the military commander of Atlantis. Life has a way of complicating things.
Disclaimer: Fanfic, don't own, no money. Just love
Author’s Note: Dedicated to the memory of clwilson
"…Sometimes, It's just desire Another problem that you really don't want
But anyway, I ache for you …"
Evan Lorne pilots the jumper to safety despite the scorch marks on the sides and the drone-damaged nacelle. He looks back at the marines who are clustered around one of their own, bleeding heavily from his leg. They've wrapped his wound and are applying pressure. He ordered a medical team before they were through the gate and now he's hoping he's gotten them back to Atlantis in time.
The jumper grinds to a halt, damage preventing the usual smooth landing. The medics rush in with a stretcher and run off with the injured marine. The others file out, exhausted and nearly silent. Evan feels like every bone in his body has been broken. The constant interaction with the jumper tech has given him a raging migraine. One of these days Beckett will figure out an inoculation to control them, but until he does, Lorne will have to rely on good old Earth meds to relieve them.
He finally climbs out of the jumper. The bay is nearly empty; most of the spectators who had gathered during the drama have returned to their jobs or their rooms. The lights dim as the jumper shuts down. Evan walks slowly around the craft, assessing the damage. The worst is the nacelle, which is hanging by wires, and tilting the jumper nearly on its side. He stands there, his eyes blurring slightly. He doesn't hear the soft lagging footsteps approaching.
He does feel the weight of a hand on his shoulder; the thumb that caresses his neck, the warmth and the scent that is John Sheppard. "Rough mission?" John asks quietly.
"One of the worst," Lorne says. He can't take comfort right now. "I've got to get to the infirmary."
"Will I see you later?" John asks.
"I don't know." He really can't take Sheppard's comfort right now. He knows John means well, but what they have together - which may or may not be more than sex - isn't something he can handle right now. "I have to go," he repeats and leaves John standing in the jumper bay. Sheppard's puzzlement is almost palpable, but Lorne shrugs it off like an uncomfortable shirt.
The infirmary is organized chaos. Medical personnel are hurrying without panic while the marines are lined up along a wall. More than one of them is stained with Lieutenant Simon's blood. They had fought so hard to save him, as hard as they fought in any battle. Lorne had a lot of respect for them, and hopes he has earned their respect and trust.
They straighten when they see him; respecting his rank. "At ease," he says quietly. "How is the lieutenant?"
"Doc Beckett says he's holding on," the platoon sergeant supplies, and then softly. "He lost a lot of blood, sir."
Lorne knows the sergeant is not being accusatory, but he feels the guilt, nonetheless. There is a chair further down the passage and Lorne drops down into it. He leans forward and scrubs the palms of his hands down his face, as if that will make him feel less fatigued. It doesn't.
After what seems like an eternity, Beckett comes out of the operating theater. He's stripped off his protective surgical gown and gloves, but there is still a smudge of blood on his scrubs. He looks as weary as Lorne, but he is smiling slightly. He goes first to the marines. "Well, Lads, it looks like the lieutenant will be giving you orders again in ten days or so."
The marine sergeant just looks at Beckett and says, "Ooh-rah!" There are high-fives and grins and profane comments, but they are marines and they are like brothers. They head out, tired but re-energized by the good news.
"Colonel?"
"Thanks, doc, for saving the lieutenant. He's a good man."
"Were you hurt, lad?" Beckett crouches down, obviously concerned.
Lorne shakes his head, then winces. "Other than a headache? No."
"I can give you a shot."
"That's okay, doc. I've got meds in my quarters. I think I'll make my report and call it a day."
"No reports, Colonel. Get your rest. Doctor's orders."
Evan looks up and smiles slightly. "Will you write a note for Dr. Weir?"
"Lad, I think she'll understand." He gives Evan's shoulder a squeeze. "Go."
Evan nods and levers himself up. He feels nagging guilt over so much; being caught in an ambush by a Wraith dart, of getting hit with a drone that sheared off a shard of metal that pierced Simon's femoral artery, of turning his back on Sheppard who was only offering support.
He can't deal with any of that right now. He walks slowly down the corridors of Atlantis. Most are deserted aside from a guard in each sector. It's night, and quiet. His way to his quarters passes past the math lab. A dim blue light rims the door. Somebody is still awake. Lorne opens the door. Somebody is John. He looks up from his tablet as he hears the door. His hair is ridiculous, his cheeks are stubbled and his eyes are red-rimmed.
"Why are you still here?" Evan asks. "You look terrible."
"Thanks. I'm glad to see you, too." He turns off the computer and comes around the desk to face Evan. "You should talk." He touches the bloodstains on Lorne's BDUs. "Not yours?"
"No. It's Simon's. You know, the marine they carried out of the jumper."
"Zelenka says it's a miracle you were able to fly it home." He lifts up Lorne's chin. "It wasn't a miracle. It was you."
"Thanks, but it wasn't," Lorne says with a sigh. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."
"Sorry for what?" John is smiling at him. "How's the headache?"
"Horrible. I'm going to take my pills and go to bed. I'll see you in the morning?"
John, for the first time, looks uncertain. "Sure."
Evan does what he said. He takes a quick shower, throws his stained fatigues into a decontamination bag. Two migraine pills and ten minutes later, he's asleep.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
He is lost. He knows there is a way out of the Hive ship he is on. He wanders down endless corridors. There are no signs of the Wraith and the mist curling around him is cold, so cold. He makes a turn down a dark passage that ends in a wall. There is a panel on the wall that resembles the wall panels on Atlantis and Lorne waves his hand over it, opening the way into a vast chamber. Overhead, he can see the Wraith embryos. They are developing impossibly fast, and he know that he has to get out of this place; but he can't leave his marines behind. He just has to find them. He runs down the passage and makes another turn, his boots skidding on slick metal. There are cells here; veiled with web-like membranes. He takes out his K-bar and slices through the web, tearing it away with his hands. Lieutenant Simon's body falls forward. Lorne catches him with his hands, and he feels the warm gush of blood on his skin, slipping down his wrists. He can't see a wound. He can't stop the flow. He watches the life ebb from Simon.
"You killed him." A chorus of ghostly voices comes through the mist. "You killed all of us."
Lorne turns and the marines are dry husks, fed on by the Wraith. "No!" he screams and screams.
"Lorne! Evan! Wake up!" There are hands on his shoulder shaking him, and he sinks to his knees, still sobbing. This time, strong arms fold around him, holding him tightly. "Wake up, Evan. You're safe. You're safe."
Evan opens his eyes. He's not on the Hive ship. He's on the floor of Sheppard's quarters, and John is holding him, whispering soothing words against his hair. You're safe. You're all right.
He knows he's shaking. He can't help but burrow closer to John. "Come on, Ev. Let's get up off the floor." John pulls him up and Lorne does his best to get his feet under him despite his chills. When he's upright, John half-carries him to the bed and helps him lie down. He slides under the covers and spoons Evan, his body is hard and warm and Even knows this isn't right, but he can't pull away from the comfort John is offering.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean -"
"I know you sleep walk, Evan. It's all right. I'm just glad you came to me, first. Go to sleep. You're safe here."
Evan nods. He's suddenly so tired that he can't keep his eyes open. He shouldn't stay, but he can't leave. This isn't sex, this is comfort and stability and warmth. He sinks down into it. "Can I stay?" he asks, his voice sounding broken.
"Wouldn't have it any different." Lorne feels John's lips at the nape of his neck and he sighs, the last tremors of the nightmare fading.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
He wakes up to first light, blinking in the shadowy and unfamiliar surroundings. Where is he? Then he slowly becomes aware of the body spooning his; one warm arm resting heavily across his body, a leg thrown over his and breath stirring his hair. This much is familiar. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to think of yesterday - not yet. At least his headache is gone. He sighs, and that's enough to wake John.
"Better?" he mumbles, stretching.
"So far." He turns in John's arms. "Thank you."
"Why?"
"To begin with, you saved me from myself."
John's mouth quirks. "You didn't walk off your balcony. You came here." He nuzzles against Evan's neck. "That has to mean something."
Evan has to smile. He kisses John. Tentative, at first, then as they both realize they want more, deeply, intimately until they're both breathless and hard. John's hands slip under the waistband of Lorne's sleep pants and his fingers part him and flutter against his anus. Evan gasps, "John …"
"You want me to stop?"
"No!"
"Good." John rolls Evan to his back and strips him, and then himself. It's perfect the way their bodies fit together, their cocks nestled together, the pressure almost enough to bring Evan off. John slides down, takes Evan in his mouth, and hums. Evan isn't sure he's even still on the bed. He seems to be floating off as his orgasm builds. "John … I'm gonna -"
John lifts his head, his eyes blown and his voice shaking. "I want your taste." He licks across Evan's glans, and swallows as he comes. When he kisses Evan, he tastes like John, like himself, and it's intoxicating and beyond anything Evan has experienced. John is trembling above him, "Touch me," he rasps.
Evan takes his cock in his hand. The come welling from his shaft slicks Evan's hand as he brings John off, his semen erupting on Evan's hand and stomach as he climaxes. The scent of sex is pungent and fresh. Evan is a mess, smeared with his come and John's, and too warm and comfortable to move just yet.
"Yesterday was hard," Evan says into John's shoulder. "I didn't lose Simon's but I don't feel as if I did enough to save him."
"You got him back to Atlantis. What else could you have done?"
"Avoided the Wraith?"
"Are you clairvoyant?"
"We should have had better intel."
"And I wish I could solve this damn equation I've been working on for two weeks."
Evan snorts softly. "I thought you were some sort of super-mega mind."
"Please. I'm not McKay. And, no, I'm not asking him for help." He rolls off Evan. "We need to clean up. I'm starving."
Evan sighs. He knows John is right. They both have work to do, and desire has no place in their worlds of science and war. "You'll solve it, you know," Evan says as he pulls on sweats borrowed from John. It's early, but running into other members of the expedition isn't out of the question. He'd prefer not advertising that he didn't sleep in his own bed.
"And you'll go to the infirmary to see Simon's and he'll thank you for saving his life."
Lorne wants to believe John. He pulls Sheppard close for a final kiss. "I never want to minimize how much you mean to me or how much I need you."
"It's all good," John says. His fingers brush Evan's hair lightly. "All of it."
"Sometimes, I want you so much I ache," Lorne says. "I don't know how to do this."
"Leave that to me. We'll figure it out."
Evan kisses him deeply and instantly wants to drag him back to the bed. He doesn't, even though he sees the same thought in John's eyes. There will be time later, for all the words and all the needs and all the desire in the world.
The End