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slashing_lorne2010-03-05 12:05 am
calcitrix.livejournal.com) wrote in slashing_lorne2010-03-05 12:05 am
Entry tags:
Fic, Lorne/Parrish, Five Times
Title: Five Times Lorne Was Glad Parrish Was On His Team
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
calcitrix
Rating: The first three are G with a little swearing, then they go PG-13 and NC-17 :)
Fandom: SGA
Warnings: None
Pairings: Lorne/Parrish
Spoilers: Eh....Season two eps if that counts
Notes: I did a five times! And a section of NC-17! But it's still not the longer story I am stuck on, nor a sequel to anything else, nor is it other stuff I should be doing. Oh, well. Also: I play with the members of Lorne's "team" because he doesn't seem to be consistently shown with the same marines or airmen. I even watched part of a few episodes just to check and, nope. Different people. I am not sure if I've come up with a good explanation for this or not but it works for me. Also: I did not make up a single plant or plant fact. See Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities for a delightful read. Also: being stuck at home with a cold is not always bad.
Lorne stares down at the nut in his hand, then looks back up at the circle of villagers. They are still angry. He is angry, too, and frustrated, and he is going to have to eat a stupid nut to prove that he is not an evil god who wants to destroy their village, just a guy who happens to have the Ancient gene. He's not sure where the logic is in this little ceremony. No, he knows logic flew out the proverbial window the moment the pillar lit up with a gajillion little green lights and the nearest villagers stepped back and went, "Oooooh," like a parody of a bad movie and someone hit him over the head and tied him up.
He still isn't sure how Parrish managed to talk them out of killing him outright. He awakened with a killer headache, hands bound behind his back, to see the botanist jumping around in front of the village leader and gesturing wildly. Cadman and Cortez stood off to the side, P90s up, both of them looking nervous and twitchy. Lorne couldn't hear what Parrish was saying, but after a few minutes of argument the village leader nodded, the marines lowered their weapons, and someone cut the ropes around Lorne's wrists. And then Lorne was given a nut and was told to eat it. Oh, and the story, sure--the pillar warns of the presence of the gods, who would take the people away, blah, blah, blah but Lorne's headache kept him from paying attention to the details. Damn Ancients.
Parrish steps in front of him, looking worried. "If you survive it means you're mortal but if you die then you're an Ancient and will ascend and go away," he says in a breathless rush.
"How does the nut know that?" Lorne asks. It looks like a walnut but is not wrinkly. If it were wrinkly it would look kind of like a brain and there might be some symbolism there, but it isn't and Lorne really wishes his headache would go away. At least he's not allergic to nuts. Wouldn't that be hilarious?
"No no no," Parrish continues, putting his hands on Lorne's shoulders. "It's a trial nut, I think, like they have in Africa." Parrish takes a deep breath. "Major, I need you to pay attention. You're kind of fading out on me." He gives Lorne's shoulders a little shake. "It's like the tanghin nut, a relative of the suicide tree. You eat it, and if you die, you're guilty. If you live, you're innocent."
"Did you say 'suicide tree?'" Lorne asks, but Parrish is already talking over him.
"What you need to do," Parrish says, slowing down a little, "Is not chew, okay? Like, maybe one bite, and then swallow. The less you chew, the less poison will get into your system. It's--look, long story short: guilty people are afraid and eat the thing slowly and end up killing themselves. Don't do that."
Lorne nods. Right. Don't kill himself with the poison suicide nut. He feels a burst of crazy laughter threaten to break out from his gut. Instead he frowns. "So I'll be okay if I don't chew?"
Parrish pauses just long enough to make Lorne worry. "Well...." His hands are still on Lorne's shoulders, and he's grateful for that, and for the little squeeze and the small smile. But not for what Parrish says next. "You'll probably spend a couple of hours vomiting up everything you've ever eaten, but you'll live."
Lorne sighs. That is so not going to help his headache. Damn Ancients.
*****************************
"God damn it!" Lorne yells, wishing the wall were regular drywall instead of...whatever Atlantis' walls are made of so that he could properly put his fist through it.
"Major?" Lorne swings around at the tentative question and finds Parrish standing behind him in the hall, looking at him with concern. He tries to school his features but doubts he succeeds much.
"Hey, Doc." It comes out almost a growl, but Lorne manages to smile. Almost. Parrish obviously doesn't know where to go with the conversation and is probably waiting for an explanation. But Lorne isn't sure where to start, or what he can comfortably offload on his scientist. He settles for, "Caldwell," and hopes that covers it.
Parrish frowns. "He's taking over while Colonel Sheppard is, ah, incapacitated, right?" Lorne nods. That's one way to phrase 'turning into a bug.' Parrish looks confused, but then Lorne sees he gets it. "Oh. Shouldn't you be in charge?" Then he winces. "Sorry. I guess you're a little upset about that."
Lorne sighs. "Not that." He leans against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. "Well, not really. It's just. He changed the duty roster. He changed the teams. He changed security protocols, patrols, and shifts." Lorne bangs his fist against the wall again, but this time with less force. "It took Sheppard months to get all of that working right. Colonel Caldwell isn't a bad guy, but he doesn't live here," he says. "He doesn't know that the floors get a little flooded and weird when the city's acting up and there's a reason we patrol the routes we do. He doesn't know that McKay and Zelenka will stay up working all night unless someone reminds them what time it is and that we have their labs on a special detail, or that sometimes the marines or airmen just have to give up and get them coffee and sandwiches at three am."
Now that Lorne's stopped to take a breath he expects Parrish to make an excuse and bolt, but instead he leans against the wall next to him, shoulder touching his. Lorne hears the smile in Parrish's voice. "There's a special coffee detail?" he asks. "How do I get one of those?"
Lorne huffs out a laugh. "I'll bring you coffee any time you want it," he says, feeling a little better. "If I'm allowed to." He sighs again, wondering how many changes Caldwell can make before he finally leaves. He doesn't want to think about Caldwell not leaving. But. "I wish Doctor Beckett would figure this out. I know he will, but it's just a big mess in the meantime." Another thing he doesn't want to think about is Doctor Beckett not being able to figure it out. Lorne slides down to sit on the floor and Parrish follows.
There are a million better places to have a freak-out, Lorne knows, certainly many better places than the hallway just down from his office. But it's in one of those sections a few levels down from the control room with hallways and doors that look so identical to one another that anyone who hasn't been on Atlantis for at least a month manages to find a supply closet full of blankets, several balconies with fantastic views, and some kind of recording studio but not, in fact, Lorne's office. Lorne chose it specifically to avoid dealing with stupid complaints from newbies. Sheppard thinks it's hilarious.
Caldwell still can't find it.
"Coyotillo," Parrish says abruptly.
"What?" Lorne asks, turning to look at him.
Parrish is grinning. "It's a plant." He holds up his hands. "I know, I know. Surprise. But hear me out. If you eat the berries, it takes a week or more for the poison to kick in. It causes complete paralysis in the legs but no other symptoms."
Lorne gapes at him. "Are you suggesting I poison my temporary commanding officer?" Then he catches the sparkle in Parrish's eyes, and he lets out a bark of laughter. "No way!" He gives Parrish a playful shove with his elbow. "Too severe!" He pauses, then grins. "What else you got?"
Parrish pretends to think, but Lorne would bet that he could rattle off about a hundred toxic plants right off the top of his head, which is both creepy and kind of endearing. "Hmmm. Datura would cause hallucinations for a few days," he says. "Settlers in Jamestown poisoned British soldiers with it." Parrish chuckles. "Except that some of the soldiers took off all their clothes and ran around naked, so maybe not."
"No," Lorne agrees with an overdramatic shudder.
"All of the rest of them pretty much kill you or only cause severe vomiting and diarrhea, which probably wouldn't get him sent back to Earth, sorry," Parrish says, apparently trying to look remorseful but mostly looking devilish. For some reason this contradiction cheers Lorne up immensely.
Lorne stands and offers a hand to Parrish, pulling him up. His foul mood has mostly evaporated, and he thinks maybe he should go visit Sheppard in the infirmary. He might actually be capable of cheering him up now as long as Sheppard doesn't ask about Caldwell's changes. "Remind me never to piss you off," Lorne tells Parrish with a grin.
Parrish smiles back. "Just remember the coffee."
**********************************************************
They are, no joke, honest-to-god-not-out-of-a-box mashed potatoes. Lorne takes another forkful, ignoring the other food on his plate, thinking he should really get the almost-meat loaf out of the way and save at least a little of the mashed potatoes for the end. He weighs that against them getting cold and shovels another forkful into his mouth. They don't even need butter.
Lorne hears McKay moan in pleasure from three tables over and tries to ignore Sheppard's answering bray of laughter. The mess hasn't been this full all at once in...well, never. Someone else sighs loudly and there's more laughter from the next table.
They're not blue. They're not purple. They are very slightly lumpy, and perfect. They're the first batch from the new greenhouse, which Lorne thinks is quite possibly the best use of power in the entire city right now.
Sheppard laughs again, and Lorne catches his eye. He gives Sheppard a look that says, Your scientist gets the shields working, sure, but mine gave us mashed potatoes. Ha! He's not sure Sheppard catches every nuance of this but he nods at Lorne and smiles. Lorne imagines it means, It's true, I would take these mashed potatoes over a functioning shield any day of the week. Also your scientist is much hotter than mine.
"Good, aren't they?" Lorne nearly chokes as Parrish sits across from him. He coughs, hoping his blush will be mistaken for simple asphyxiation. "Sorry, sorry," Parrish says, offering him a napkin.
Lorne downs his water and manages to breathe. "No, s'okay, I was just having a silent communication thing with Colonel Sheppard and you startled me." Lorne wonders why he said that. He's off his game, the delicious potatoes have made him loopy.
Parrish gives him an uncertain smile. Lorne shakes his head, realizing he's stuck explaining now. "See, when I first put you on my team, Sheppard wanted to know why I asked for a botanist. And it was...well, I didn't want an anthropologist, I certainly didn't want a biologist, Zelenka hates going offworld, and--" Lorne shrugs. "And you've done really well." Parrish turns pink and looks down at his plate. "And," Lorne smiles at him, "I was just conveying to the colonel that these mashed potatoes prove it."
"You were telling him that?" Parrish asks with a laugh. "With a look?"
"More or less." Lorne takes another bite to avoid having to look at Parrish and it turns out the potatoes are just as good now that they've started to get cold.
"Technically growing potatoes has nothing to do with going offworld and it was a group effort," Parrish counters. He takes a bite of almost-meat loaf and makes a face. Lorne sees that Parrish doesn't actually have any of the mashed potatoes on his plate, which seems like a crime and he says so. "Oh, they're out of them already," Parrish says.
Fork halfway to his mouth, Lorne freezes. He looks down. He started with a mountain and still has a decent portion left. He glances up at Parrish, who has shoved aside his plate and is pulling apart his bread. Lorne sighs and pushes his own plate across the table. Parrish stares at him, clearly not getting it.
"Eat," Lorne tells him. "They're your potatoes."
Parrish blushes again but pushes the plate back. He glances around and leans closer to Lorne. "Don't tell anyone." Lorne nods. "The botany department has been eating potatoes for a week." Parrish grins. "It took even longer for the tests and paperwork to go through, but we started harvesting them a while ago."
Lorne wants to laugh and also kick him in the shins. "I can't believe you didn't share!"
Parrish looks contrite. "Three different departments had to run tests and it was taking forever! We finally got sick of it." He waves his hands around. "There was a pact." He lowers his voice. "Katie didn't even share with McKay," he says solemnly, "And she's had him over for dinner three times."
Lorne pulls the plate back under him and takes the biggest mouthful of potatoes he can handle. He takes his time chewing, making Parrish laugh. He swallows and says, "You are forgiven, but only because these are incredible."
"There are sweet potatoes, too," Parrish says then, raising his eyebrows. "And corn."
Lorne doesn't care what anyone says. His scientist is awesome.
**************************************************************
Lorne swears he didn't walk through anything that grew higher than his ankles, but by the time they're making camp he's broken out in the worst rash of his life. It feels like it's everywhere, and the pain is ramping up to the point that he's not sure he'll be able to sleep, let alone take part of a watch or be any sort of help should something go down.
He finally has to stop working once the tents are up and Cortez has the camp stove lit. He tries not to sound too frantic when he says, "I'm gonna go check out the stream we saw just back there," and heads for the water as fast as he can. Too late he realizes he should have told someone that he wasn't feeling so hot, but he has his radio and cold water has to help, right?
It doesn't. Lorne stands in the creek up to his chest. His boots, pants, vest, holster, and jacket are piled on the bank. He reminds himself that there are no people on the planet, which means there are no Wraith, and he's as safe there as just about anywhere when a crackle of leaves and undergrowth makes him curse and lunge for his weapon.
"Major, are you all right?" Parrish steps out from the trees and Lorne sinks against the cool mud of the bank. He didn't even manage to reach his handgun, and he knows that should worry him, but his skin burns and yet somehow he feels cold at the same time.
"No?" Lorne thinks that's the right answer, and it must be because Parrish is there, pulling him out of the water to sit on the grass.
Parrish lifts Lorne's shirt and says, "I thought so. We must have walked by a nasty patch of the stuff earlier. My arm looked just like this. How bad is it?"
Lorne shakes his head and tries to focus. "Pretty bad," he grunts. He isn't capable of more than that but Parrish nods and disappears. Lorne lies back and stares at the darkening sky, watches the leaves shiver with the wind. The fire feels like it's moved to his head. He wants Parrish back. David back. He doesn't think that David would just leave him, except that he did. Lorne blinks though, and David's face reappears above him. Lorne smiles, and David's face creases with worry.
"Scoot over on this," David says, and lays a blanket next to Lorne. Then he says, "I'm, ah, going to have to take off the rest of your clothes, Major." Lorne just nods, and tries to get onto the blanket, and then the friction of the shirt's fabric against his chest and stomach when David pulls it off makes Lorne suck in his breath with the pain but brings him back to awareness.
"The hell?" Lorne asks, lying back again. He had a terrible case of poison ivy once as a kid and it was nothing like this.
"Urticaria," David answers. "From trichomes like a stinging nettle has, only with more neurotoxin."
"Oh, god," Lorne moans, and David looks up in alarm. "I understood that." David sort of smiles, but then bites his lip and his hands hover over the waistband of Lorne's underwear. Lorne braces himself, but the rash is worse on his stomach and he is thankful for small mercies.
David takes a handful of leaves then and crushes them, carefully letting the juice drip onto Lorne's chest. It's not as cold as the creek was, but the chill makes Lorne gasp because the burning lessens immediately. David carefully spreads the juice over Lorne's chest, and Lorne lets his head fall back against the blanket and tries to breathe evenly and slowly.
Lorne also tries very, very hard to focus on the lingering pain and not the feel of David's fingers moving over his skin.
But there's less pain as David continues, and he stops at Lorne's navel and starts again at his shins, either moving from least embarrassing to most or from worst rash to mildest, Lorne isn't sure. He thinks fleetingly that he should stop David now, but David's palm is cool against the skin of his thigh and the liquid from the leaves is taking the heat away so quickly he feels drained, incapable of movement. Lorne keeps his eyes closed and thinks about Puddlejumpers.
"Better?" David asks when he's done and Lorne moans and nods. He helps Lorne sit up. "I hope you brought spare clothes," David says. "There might be leftover spines in those." He gestures to the pile of clothing on the bank.
"Burn it all," Lorne says with conviction. Then he sees David's hands and arms are also covered in fading marks. "It got you too?"
David looks away and shrugs. "A little. It's the plant's own leaves that contain the cure, just like nettles. I picked one earlier and tried it when I felt the rash on my arm."
Lorne's head still feels muddled, because he can't understand why David's hands and wrists look so bad, but then he does. "You had to go pick more leaves."
David nods, still looking away. Lorne wonders why he's embarrassed about that, but then the breeze shifts and reminds him that he's buck naked. But it's a little too late to be worried about modesty, and Lorne flushes at the remembered feel of David's hands on his skin. "Hey," he says, nudging David and forcing him to look over. "Thank you, David."
David freezes next to him for a moment and then says in a rush, "I'd better go explain what happened. The last Cadman and Cortez saw of me, I came tearing into camp with an armful of leaves, yelled that I needed the boiling water, dunked the plants, dumped the pot, and took off again." He laughs. "They must have thought I'd gone insane."
Lorne grabs David's arm to keep him from standing. "We don't have to tell them, do we?" he asks, picturing Cadman embellishing the story at girls' poker night despite not having seen a thing. And the inevitable nicknames. Sheppard was really good at nicknames.
David's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, sure. We can simply have disappeared into the woods together for an hour with no explanation at all. That's much better," he says with a laugh. "Only for some reason I desperately needed some boiled leaves. They'd never wonder."
Lorne laughs too. "I wouldn't care if they thought we--" he stops abruptly and swallows, then looks down at the blanket. "Bring my extra clothes back, would you please?" he asks, not daring to look back up.
**************************************************
Lorne has missed going offworld with David. Doctor Parrish. Oh, sure, he used to think that they got in almost as much trouble as Sheppard's team but that was before he had a real basis of comparison. Before the Genii decided that he and a few marines would make lovely guinea pigs and proved the point that botanists were safer than physicists, anthropologists, and, it turns out, agronomists.
"Kona Kava?" Cadman asks, walking next to Parrish just ahead of Lorne and Cortez.
"Doesn't work," Parrish answers, checking his belt for the hundredth time since they walked through the gate. He'd added a few extra odd little tools, and apparently was having trouble getting everything balanced.
"Horny Goat Weed!" Cadman exclaims, sounding triumphant.
"Not even a little bit," Parrish says, shaking his head. Lorne missed the first part of the conversation, but he's pretty sure now what they're talking about. Horny Goat Weed. Only Cadman. "I'm sure I don't want to know any details, but doesn't Doctor Beckett have an entire pharmacy at his disposal?" Parrish asks.
Cadman laughs. "I'm only asking because I was watching 'the Medicine Hunter--' that guy who travels the world looking for medicinal plants. He had a whole list of top ten hot plants." She pauses. "You kind of remind me of him. I mean, it's sort of what you do."
Parrish snorts. "Except that that guy's a hack. He doesn't even have a degree." He looks sideways at Cadman and tilts his head. "Also you do realize I'm not traveling the galaxy looking for aphrodisiacs?"
They continue their banter, and Lorne feels a weight lift from his shoulders. He doesn't mind working with other airmen or a few marines when he has military escort duty, and it's not so bad when he has a shift with the diplomats, or even a "poke and prod the Ancient gizmo" stint. Sheppard says he's a good role model and needs to do those things. It's implied that perhaps Sheppard is not a good role model; most of the time Lorne would disagree, except for those times when it is very obviously true. But sometimes Lorne wishes it were always this easy, that he was always stepping through the gate with people who had seen him puke his guts out, lose his temper, his clothes, and his sanity, and yet somehow still wanted to go through the gate with him again the next time.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" Cortez asks, picking up their running game. Cortez is currently ahead five hundred and six to three hundred and eighty nine.
*
They arrive at the town just before dinner time, which is the best time to arrive anywhere. Sheppard's team managed to make a good impression on their visit a month past, and so they are invited to eat at the mayor's house and to discuss irrigation, hydroponics, plant disease, and foliar fertilization. Sheppard admitted he'd been bored to tears the entire time and that McKay had initially been giddy at the number of energy signatures emanating from the town but had nearly cried when it turned out they were all related to growing plants. But in deference to the continued health of Atlantis' potatoes it was decided a return visit was in order.
Lorne lets the conversation wash over him. The mayor and his top botanists quickly learn that Parrish is the only one worth talking to, which suits the rest of them just fine as it allows them to concentrate on eating. Parrish is lively, his hands and mouth moving almost continuously and Lorne realizes he hasn't really spent any time with him since before the mission with the Genii. He spends dinner watching Parrish's hands.
"And our blue tile greenhouse is dedicated to plants that bring the senses alive," Mayor Dorren says proudly. He raises his eyebrows when Cadman elbows Parrish in the ribs. "Is that of particular interest to you?" he asks. "Many other visitors seek that as well."
"'S funny, we were just talking about that on the way here," Cadman says with a grin.
"I don't think that's what he means," Parrish frowns, finally managing to take a spoonful of stew.
Dorren regards Parrish solemnly and says, "Surely you of all people are not skeptical of a plant's abilities?"
"See? He does mean that," Cadman giggles, and only Cortez is looking uncomfortable so Lorne stifles the urge to kick her under the table. He'll let it play out. Pretty much anything not involving explosions, fires, and cells is fine with Lorne these days.
"We have, ah, similar things where we come from," Parrish says. "But there's not really any evidence that they work." He has his best diplomatic expression on, and it's obvious he's torn between being a scientist and trying not to offend his new acquaintences.
Dorren gestures to one of the botanists, who gets up from the table. She returns a few moments later with a plate of something that looks like wasabi and sets it in front of Parrish. Everyone watches. The scientist says, "Our best crop. Yoni root. Why don't you decide for yourself?"
Parrish sees he has backed himself into a corner. His ears turn pink. He licks his lips. There is a round of good-natured laughter from the dinner guests, and Dorren raises an eyebrow at Parrish. "You don't have to, of course." His tone is challenging.
"Damn it, Parrish, eat the root," Cadman whispers. She looks gleeful.
Parrish's eyes dart around the table and settle on Lorne's. It makes Lorne's stomach drop. He should say something. What he doesn't mean to say but does, is, "Go ahead, Doc."
Sometimes he is not a good role model.
Parrish uses his spoon to gather a large dollop of the crushed root and raises it to his lips. He closes his eyes and eats it. "Oh," he says. "It's sweet." Then he blinks and looks down, as if he's expecting an immediate response. "When--?" he asks tentatively.
Everyone laughs again, even Cortez, and Parrish's blush deepens. The female botanist claps him on the shoulder and says, "We had thought to show you a few of the greenhouses tonight, but perhaps that can wait until tomorrow."
The townsfolk are certainly amused at the turn of events. Parrish finally finishes his stew and makes it through dessert and tea without showing signs of distress. Cadman seems disappointed. She bugs him all the way to their rooms. "Nothing?" she asks for the third time.
"Let it go," Parrish answers, sliding through the door and into his room. He shuts it and Lorne hears the lock click into place.
Lorne enters his own room and drops his backpack, removes his vest and jacket. He turns back to the door, thinking to lock it--standard protocol--but doesn't. His hands hover uncertainly and in the back of his head he knows exactly why he leaves it open. And why he isn't sleeping in his pants and shirt like he normally does, why he's stripped completely naked, feeling vulnerable and stupid and not like a very good role model at all.
Lorne's almost asleep, finally, trying to pretend there isn't an ache of disappointment in his gut when his door opens. The sound sends a jolt of adrenaline through him, and when he sees that the dark shape has to be Parrish he lets out the breath he was holding.
Parrish stops at the edge of the bed, and Lorne thinks he sees him trembling. Lorne reaches out and grabs his hand and Parrish kneels, puts his head on the blanket next to Lorne's shoulder. Lorne rubs the back of his neck and says, "I shouldn't have pushed you, I'm sorry. That was really stupid."
Parrish just shakes his head and mumbles, "It's my fault. I wanted an excuse for this, but I don't know how I could ask you to--" Lorne pulls him up, and then down, and kisses him. Parrish kisses him back desperately, and Lorne tugs more, shoving the blanket aside as Parrish tumbles on top of him. Lorne pulls off Parrish's shirt, needy for skin, running his hands along the outlines of ribs and spine. Every touch elicits a gasp, and when he works at the buttons of Parrish's pants he fumbles because the noises Parrish is making is causing Lorne's fingers to shake.
But then they are both finally naked, and kissing again, and though Lorne would love to spend some time exploring every inch of skin, he senses Parrish's urgency. Parrish pulls back and swallows, licks his lips. "You don't have to do this out of a sense of duty," he says quietly. "Or--or to be nice."
Lorne laughs, still out of breath. "God, David, I wouldn't let someone fuck me just to be nice."
David exhales loudly and his head falls onto Lorne's shoulder. A shiver runs through his entire body. "Oh," he whispers faintly. "Evan, I--" He shivers again, and Lorne can feel the muscles in his back coil and tense. Lorne runs his hands through David's hair. David sighs, and kisses Lorne's shoulder, and his neck, and moves down his chest, lips and hands and tongue tracing a path of desire and need. Lorne relaxes and tenses in turn, storing the map of these first touches between them. Lorne moans when David's breath ghosts against his hip, gasps at the feel of tongue and fingers on his cock. David works him until the only thing Lorne can do is say David's name over and over again.
Lorne is grateful that David doesn't stop to ask him if he's sure that he wants this. He does. He is filled with want. David's tongue and fingers are doing other things now and Lorne is pretty sure that the only reason he is remembering to breathe is to follow the rhythm of David's fingers. The stretch is sweet and the slick just enough and then David shifts position and Lorne cries out when David pushes into him.
It's good, it's so so so good, and he must have said that out loud because David huffs a breath of laughter into his ear and says, "Yeah, it's good, oh, Evan, god." Lorne is glad to have David's skin against him again, and he thinks he is possibly the worst role model ever but he doesn't care because he is about to come.
David pants onto his neck and Lorne raises his hips and there is exactly the right amount of friction everywhere. Lorne shudders and clutches David's shoulders as his orgasm rips through him, and the tiny part of his brain that is still aware of its surroundings is immensely pleased that this causes David to whimper, grab Lorne's hips, and thrust harder. He is not afraid to admit that the way David says his name when he comes also pleases him very much.
Lorne is almost asleep again when David stirs at his side. "Should I go?" he asks, voice carefully even.
Lorne pauses but answers, "No," before the pause can be long enough for David to think he's having second thoughts. And just in case, he pulls David closer, breathes the scent of clean sweat at the nape of his neck and follows it with a brush of his lips. "Never."
Author:
calcitrixRating: The first three are G with a little swearing, then they go PG-13 and NC-17 :)
Fandom: SGA
Warnings: None
Pairings: Lorne/Parrish
Spoilers: Eh....Season two eps if that counts
Notes: I did a five times! And a section of NC-17! But it's still not the longer story I am stuck on, nor a sequel to anything else, nor is it other stuff I should be doing. Oh, well. Also: I play with the members of Lorne's "team" because he doesn't seem to be consistently shown with the same marines or airmen. I even watched part of a few episodes just to check and, nope. Different people. I am not sure if I've come up with a good explanation for this or not but it works for me. Also: I did not make up a single plant or plant fact. See Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities for a delightful read. Also: being stuck at home with a cold is not always bad.
Lorne stares down at the nut in his hand, then looks back up at the circle of villagers. They are still angry. He is angry, too, and frustrated, and he is going to have to eat a stupid nut to prove that he is not an evil god who wants to destroy their village, just a guy who happens to have the Ancient gene. He's not sure where the logic is in this little ceremony. No, he knows logic flew out the proverbial window the moment the pillar lit up with a gajillion little green lights and the nearest villagers stepped back and went, "Oooooh," like a parody of a bad movie and someone hit him over the head and tied him up.
He still isn't sure how Parrish managed to talk them out of killing him outright. He awakened with a killer headache, hands bound behind his back, to see the botanist jumping around in front of the village leader and gesturing wildly. Cadman and Cortez stood off to the side, P90s up, both of them looking nervous and twitchy. Lorne couldn't hear what Parrish was saying, but after a few minutes of argument the village leader nodded, the marines lowered their weapons, and someone cut the ropes around Lorne's wrists. And then Lorne was given a nut and was told to eat it. Oh, and the story, sure--the pillar warns of the presence of the gods, who would take the people away, blah, blah, blah but Lorne's headache kept him from paying attention to the details. Damn Ancients.
Parrish steps in front of him, looking worried. "If you survive it means you're mortal but if you die then you're an Ancient and will ascend and go away," he says in a breathless rush.
"How does the nut know that?" Lorne asks. It looks like a walnut but is not wrinkly. If it were wrinkly it would look kind of like a brain and there might be some symbolism there, but it isn't and Lorne really wishes his headache would go away. At least he's not allergic to nuts. Wouldn't that be hilarious?
"No no no," Parrish continues, putting his hands on Lorne's shoulders. "It's a trial nut, I think, like they have in Africa." Parrish takes a deep breath. "Major, I need you to pay attention. You're kind of fading out on me." He gives Lorne's shoulders a little shake. "It's like the tanghin nut, a relative of the suicide tree. You eat it, and if you die, you're guilty. If you live, you're innocent."
"Did you say 'suicide tree?'" Lorne asks, but Parrish is already talking over him.
"What you need to do," Parrish says, slowing down a little, "Is not chew, okay? Like, maybe one bite, and then swallow. The less you chew, the less poison will get into your system. It's--look, long story short: guilty people are afraid and eat the thing slowly and end up killing themselves. Don't do that."
Lorne nods. Right. Don't kill himself with the poison suicide nut. He feels a burst of crazy laughter threaten to break out from his gut. Instead he frowns. "So I'll be okay if I don't chew?"
Parrish pauses just long enough to make Lorne worry. "Well...." His hands are still on Lorne's shoulders, and he's grateful for that, and for the little squeeze and the small smile. But not for what Parrish says next. "You'll probably spend a couple of hours vomiting up everything you've ever eaten, but you'll live."
Lorne sighs. That is so not going to help his headache. Damn Ancients.
*****************************
"God damn it!" Lorne yells, wishing the wall were regular drywall instead of...whatever Atlantis' walls are made of so that he could properly put his fist through it.
"Major?" Lorne swings around at the tentative question and finds Parrish standing behind him in the hall, looking at him with concern. He tries to school his features but doubts he succeeds much.
"Hey, Doc." It comes out almost a growl, but Lorne manages to smile. Almost. Parrish obviously doesn't know where to go with the conversation and is probably waiting for an explanation. But Lorne isn't sure where to start, or what he can comfortably offload on his scientist. He settles for, "Caldwell," and hopes that covers it.
Parrish frowns. "He's taking over while Colonel Sheppard is, ah, incapacitated, right?" Lorne nods. That's one way to phrase 'turning into a bug.' Parrish looks confused, but then Lorne sees he gets it. "Oh. Shouldn't you be in charge?" Then he winces. "Sorry. I guess you're a little upset about that."
Lorne sighs. "Not that." He leans against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. "Well, not really. It's just. He changed the duty roster. He changed the teams. He changed security protocols, patrols, and shifts." Lorne bangs his fist against the wall again, but this time with less force. "It took Sheppard months to get all of that working right. Colonel Caldwell isn't a bad guy, but he doesn't live here," he says. "He doesn't know that the floors get a little flooded and weird when the city's acting up and there's a reason we patrol the routes we do. He doesn't know that McKay and Zelenka will stay up working all night unless someone reminds them what time it is and that we have their labs on a special detail, or that sometimes the marines or airmen just have to give up and get them coffee and sandwiches at three am."
Now that Lorne's stopped to take a breath he expects Parrish to make an excuse and bolt, but instead he leans against the wall next to him, shoulder touching his. Lorne hears the smile in Parrish's voice. "There's a special coffee detail?" he asks. "How do I get one of those?"
Lorne huffs out a laugh. "I'll bring you coffee any time you want it," he says, feeling a little better. "If I'm allowed to." He sighs again, wondering how many changes Caldwell can make before he finally leaves. He doesn't want to think about Caldwell not leaving. But. "I wish Doctor Beckett would figure this out. I know he will, but it's just a big mess in the meantime." Another thing he doesn't want to think about is Doctor Beckett not being able to figure it out. Lorne slides down to sit on the floor and Parrish follows.
There are a million better places to have a freak-out, Lorne knows, certainly many better places than the hallway just down from his office. But it's in one of those sections a few levels down from the control room with hallways and doors that look so identical to one another that anyone who hasn't been on Atlantis for at least a month manages to find a supply closet full of blankets, several balconies with fantastic views, and some kind of recording studio but not, in fact, Lorne's office. Lorne chose it specifically to avoid dealing with stupid complaints from newbies. Sheppard thinks it's hilarious.
Caldwell still can't find it.
"Coyotillo," Parrish says abruptly.
"What?" Lorne asks, turning to look at him.
Parrish is grinning. "It's a plant." He holds up his hands. "I know, I know. Surprise. But hear me out. If you eat the berries, it takes a week or more for the poison to kick in. It causes complete paralysis in the legs but no other symptoms."
Lorne gapes at him. "Are you suggesting I poison my temporary commanding officer?" Then he catches the sparkle in Parrish's eyes, and he lets out a bark of laughter. "No way!" He gives Parrish a playful shove with his elbow. "Too severe!" He pauses, then grins. "What else you got?"
Parrish pretends to think, but Lorne would bet that he could rattle off about a hundred toxic plants right off the top of his head, which is both creepy and kind of endearing. "Hmmm. Datura would cause hallucinations for a few days," he says. "Settlers in Jamestown poisoned British soldiers with it." Parrish chuckles. "Except that some of the soldiers took off all their clothes and ran around naked, so maybe not."
"No," Lorne agrees with an overdramatic shudder.
"All of the rest of them pretty much kill you or only cause severe vomiting and diarrhea, which probably wouldn't get him sent back to Earth, sorry," Parrish says, apparently trying to look remorseful but mostly looking devilish. For some reason this contradiction cheers Lorne up immensely.
Lorne stands and offers a hand to Parrish, pulling him up. His foul mood has mostly evaporated, and he thinks maybe he should go visit Sheppard in the infirmary. He might actually be capable of cheering him up now as long as Sheppard doesn't ask about Caldwell's changes. "Remind me never to piss you off," Lorne tells Parrish with a grin.
Parrish smiles back. "Just remember the coffee."
**********************************************************
They are, no joke, honest-to-god-not-out-of-a-box mashed potatoes. Lorne takes another forkful, ignoring the other food on his plate, thinking he should really get the almost-meat loaf out of the way and save at least a little of the mashed potatoes for the end. He weighs that against them getting cold and shovels another forkful into his mouth. They don't even need butter.
Lorne hears McKay moan in pleasure from three tables over and tries to ignore Sheppard's answering bray of laughter. The mess hasn't been this full all at once in...well, never. Someone else sighs loudly and there's more laughter from the next table.
They're not blue. They're not purple. They are very slightly lumpy, and perfect. They're the first batch from the new greenhouse, which Lorne thinks is quite possibly the best use of power in the entire city right now.
Sheppard laughs again, and Lorne catches his eye. He gives Sheppard a look that says, Your scientist gets the shields working, sure, but mine gave us mashed potatoes. Ha! He's not sure Sheppard catches every nuance of this but he nods at Lorne and smiles. Lorne imagines it means, It's true, I would take these mashed potatoes over a functioning shield any day of the week. Also your scientist is much hotter than mine.
"Good, aren't they?" Lorne nearly chokes as Parrish sits across from him. He coughs, hoping his blush will be mistaken for simple asphyxiation. "Sorry, sorry," Parrish says, offering him a napkin.
Lorne downs his water and manages to breathe. "No, s'okay, I was just having a silent communication thing with Colonel Sheppard and you startled me." Lorne wonders why he said that. He's off his game, the delicious potatoes have made him loopy.
Parrish gives him an uncertain smile. Lorne shakes his head, realizing he's stuck explaining now. "See, when I first put you on my team, Sheppard wanted to know why I asked for a botanist. And it was...well, I didn't want an anthropologist, I certainly didn't want a biologist, Zelenka hates going offworld, and--" Lorne shrugs. "And you've done really well." Parrish turns pink and looks down at his plate. "And," Lorne smiles at him, "I was just conveying to the colonel that these mashed potatoes prove it."
"You were telling him that?" Parrish asks with a laugh. "With a look?"
"More or less." Lorne takes another bite to avoid having to look at Parrish and it turns out the potatoes are just as good now that they've started to get cold.
"Technically growing potatoes has nothing to do with going offworld and it was a group effort," Parrish counters. He takes a bite of almost-meat loaf and makes a face. Lorne sees that Parrish doesn't actually have any of the mashed potatoes on his plate, which seems like a crime and he says so. "Oh, they're out of them already," Parrish says.
Fork halfway to his mouth, Lorne freezes. He looks down. He started with a mountain and still has a decent portion left. He glances up at Parrish, who has shoved aside his plate and is pulling apart his bread. Lorne sighs and pushes his own plate across the table. Parrish stares at him, clearly not getting it.
"Eat," Lorne tells him. "They're your potatoes."
Parrish blushes again but pushes the plate back. He glances around and leans closer to Lorne. "Don't tell anyone." Lorne nods. "The botany department has been eating potatoes for a week." Parrish grins. "It took even longer for the tests and paperwork to go through, but we started harvesting them a while ago."
Lorne wants to laugh and also kick him in the shins. "I can't believe you didn't share!"
Parrish looks contrite. "Three different departments had to run tests and it was taking forever! We finally got sick of it." He waves his hands around. "There was a pact." He lowers his voice. "Katie didn't even share with McKay," he says solemnly, "And she's had him over for dinner three times."
Lorne pulls the plate back under him and takes the biggest mouthful of potatoes he can handle. He takes his time chewing, making Parrish laugh. He swallows and says, "You are forgiven, but only because these are incredible."
"There are sweet potatoes, too," Parrish says then, raising his eyebrows. "And corn."
Lorne doesn't care what anyone says. His scientist is awesome.
**************************************************************
Lorne swears he didn't walk through anything that grew higher than his ankles, but by the time they're making camp he's broken out in the worst rash of his life. It feels like it's everywhere, and the pain is ramping up to the point that he's not sure he'll be able to sleep, let alone take part of a watch or be any sort of help should something go down.
He finally has to stop working once the tents are up and Cortez has the camp stove lit. He tries not to sound too frantic when he says, "I'm gonna go check out the stream we saw just back there," and heads for the water as fast as he can. Too late he realizes he should have told someone that he wasn't feeling so hot, but he has his radio and cold water has to help, right?
It doesn't. Lorne stands in the creek up to his chest. His boots, pants, vest, holster, and jacket are piled on the bank. He reminds himself that there are no people on the planet, which means there are no Wraith, and he's as safe there as just about anywhere when a crackle of leaves and undergrowth makes him curse and lunge for his weapon.
"Major, are you all right?" Parrish steps out from the trees and Lorne sinks against the cool mud of the bank. He didn't even manage to reach his handgun, and he knows that should worry him, but his skin burns and yet somehow he feels cold at the same time.
"No?" Lorne thinks that's the right answer, and it must be because Parrish is there, pulling him out of the water to sit on the grass.
Parrish lifts Lorne's shirt and says, "I thought so. We must have walked by a nasty patch of the stuff earlier. My arm looked just like this. How bad is it?"
Lorne shakes his head and tries to focus. "Pretty bad," he grunts. He isn't capable of more than that but Parrish nods and disappears. Lorne lies back and stares at the darkening sky, watches the leaves shiver with the wind. The fire feels like it's moved to his head. He wants Parrish back. David back. He doesn't think that David would just leave him, except that he did. Lorne blinks though, and David's face reappears above him. Lorne smiles, and David's face creases with worry.
"Scoot over on this," David says, and lays a blanket next to Lorne. Then he says, "I'm, ah, going to have to take off the rest of your clothes, Major." Lorne just nods, and tries to get onto the blanket, and then the friction of the shirt's fabric against his chest and stomach when David pulls it off makes Lorne suck in his breath with the pain but brings him back to awareness.
"The hell?" Lorne asks, lying back again. He had a terrible case of poison ivy once as a kid and it was nothing like this.
"Urticaria," David answers. "From trichomes like a stinging nettle has, only with more neurotoxin."
"Oh, god," Lorne moans, and David looks up in alarm. "I understood that." David sort of smiles, but then bites his lip and his hands hover over the waistband of Lorne's underwear. Lorne braces himself, but the rash is worse on his stomach and he is thankful for small mercies.
David takes a handful of leaves then and crushes them, carefully letting the juice drip onto Lorne's chest. It's not as cold as the creek was, but the chill makes Lorne gasp because the burning lessens immediately. David carefully spreads the juice over Lorne's chest, and Lorne lets his head fall back against the blanket and tries to breathe evenly and slowly.
Lorne also tries very, very hard to focus on the lingering pain and not the feel of David's fingers moving over his skin.
But there's less pain as David continues, and he stops at Lorne's navel and starts again at his shins, either moving from least embarrassing to most or from worst rash to mildest, Lorne isn't sure. He thinks fleetingly that he should stop David now, but David's palm is cool against the skin of his thigh and the liquid from the leaves is taking the heat away so quickly he feels drained, incapable of movement. Lorne keeps his eyes closed and thinks about Puddlejumpers.
"Better?" David asks when he's done and Lorne moans and nods. He helps Lorne sit up. "I hope you brought spare clothes," David says. "There might be leftover spines in those." He gestures to the pile of clothing on the bank.
"Burn it all," Lorne says with conviction. Then he sees David's hands and arms are also covered in fading marks. "It got you too?"
David looks away and shrugs. "A little. It's the plant's own leaves that contain the cure, just like nettles. I picked one earlier and tried it when I felt the rash on my arm."
Lorne's head still feels muddled, because he can't understand why David's hands and wrists look so bad, but then he does. "You had to go pick more leaves."
David nods, still looking away. Lorne wonders why he's embarrassed about that, but then the breeze shifts and reminds him that he's buck naked. But it's a little too late to be worried about modesty, and Lorne flushes at the remembered feel of David's hands on his skin. "Hey," he says, nudging David and forcing him to look over. "Thank you, David."
David freezes next to him for a moment and then says in a rush, "I'd better go explain what happened. The last Cadman and Cortez saw of me, I came tearing into camp with an armful of leaves, yelled that I needed the boiling water, dunked the plants, dumped the pot, and took off again." He laughs. "They must have thought I'd gone insane."
Lorne grabs David's arm to keep him from standing. "We don't have to tell them, do we?" he asks, picturing Cadman embellishing the story at girls' poker night despite not having seen a thing. And the inevitable nicknames. Sheppard was really good at nicknames.
David's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, sure. We can simply have disappeared into the woods together for an hour with no explanation at all. That's much better," he says with a laugh. "Only for some reason I desperately needed some boiled leaves. They'd never wonder."
Lorne laughs too. "I wouldn't care if they thought we--" he stops abruptly and swallows, then looks down at the blanket. "Bring my extra clothes back, would you please?" he asks, not daring to look back up.
**************************************************
Lorne has missed going offworld with David. Doctor Parrish. Oh, sure, he used to think that they got in almost as much trouble as Sheppard's team but that was before he had a real basis of comparison. Before the Genii decided that he and a few marines would make lovely guinea pigs and proved the point that botanists were safer than physicists, anthropologists, and, it turns out, agronomists.
"Kona Kava?" Cadman asks, walking next to Parrish just ahead of Lorne and Cortez.
"Doesn't work," Parrish answers, checking his belt for the hundredth time since they walked through the gate. He'd added a few extra odd little tools, and apparently was having trouble getting everything balanced.
"Horny Goat Weed!" Cadman exclaims, sounding triumphant.
"Not even a little bit," Parrish says, shaking his head. Lorne missed the first part of the conversation, but he's pretty sure now what they're talking about. Horny Goat Weed. Only Cadman. "I'm sure I don't want to know any details, but doesn't Doctor Beckett have an entire pharmacy at his disposal?" Parrish asks.
Cadman laughs. "I'm only asking because I was watching 'the Medicine Hunter--' that guy who travels the world looking for medicinal plants. He had a whole list of top ten hot plants." She pauses. "You kind of remind me of him. I mean, it's sort of what you do."
Parrish snorts. "Except that that guy's a hack. He doesn't even have a degree." He looks sideways at Cadman and tilts his head. "Also you do realize I'm not traveling the galaxy looking for aphrodisiacs?"
They continue their banter, and Lorne feels a weight lift from his shoulders. He doesn't mind working with other airmen or a few marines when he has military escort duty, and it's not so bad when he has a shift with the diplomats, or even a "poke and prod the Ancient gizmo" stint. Sheppard says he's a good role model and needs to do those things. It's implied that perhaps Sheppard is not a good role model; most of the time Lorne would disagree, except for those times when it is very obviously true. But sometimes Lorne wishes it were always this easy, that he was always stepping through the gate with people who had seen him puke his guts out, lose his temper, his clothes, and his sanity, and yet somehow still wanted to go through the gate with him again the next time.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" Cortez asks, picking up their running game. Cortez is currently ahead five hundred and six to three hundred and eighty nine.
*
They arrive at the town just before dinner time, which is the best time to arrive anywhere. Sheppard's team managed to make a good impression on their visit a month past, and so they are invited to eat at the mayor's house and to discuss irrigation, hydroponics, plant disease, and foliar fertilization. Sheppard admitted he'd been bored to tears the entire time and that McKay had initially been giddy at the number of energy signatures emanating from the town but had nearly cried when it turned out they were all related to growing plants. But in deference to the continued health of Atlantis' potatoes it was decided a return visit was in order.
Lorne lets the conversation wash over him. The mayor and his top botanists quickly learn that Parrish is the only one worth talking to, which suits the rest of them just fine as it allows them to concentrate on eating. Parrish is lively, his hands and mouth moving almost continuously and Lorne realizes he hasn't really spent any time with him since before the mission with the Genii. He spends dinner watching Parrish's hands.
"And our blue tile greenhouse is dedicated to plants that bring the senses alive," Mayor Dorren says proudly. He raises his eyebrows when Cadman elbows Parrish in the ribs. "Is that of particular interest to you?" he asks. "Many other visitors seek that as well."
"'S funny, we were just talking about that on the way here," Cadman says with a grin.
"I don't think that's what he means," Parrish frowns, finally managing to take a spoonful of stew.
Dorren regards Parrish solemnly and says, "Surely you of all people are not skeptical of a plant's abilities?"
"See? He does mean that," Cadman giggles, and only Cortez is looking uncomfortable so Lorne stifles the urge to kick her under the table. He'll let it play out. Pretty much anything not involving explosions, fires, and cells is fine with Lorne these days.
"We have, ah, similar things where we come from," Parrish says. "But there's not really any evidence that they work." He has his best diplomatic expression on, and it's obvious he's torn between being a scientist and trying not to offend his new acquaintences.
Dorren gestures to one of the botanists, who gets up from the table. She returns a few moments later with a plate of something that looks like wasabi and sets it in front of Parrish. Everyone watches. The scientist says, "Our best crop. Yoni root. Why don't you decide for yourself?"
Parrish sees he has backed himself into a corner. His ears turn pink. He licks his lips. There is a round of good-natured laughter from the dinner guests, and Dorren raises an eyebrow at Parrish. "You don't have to, of course." His tone is challenging.
"Damn it, Parrish, eat the root," Cadman whispers. She looks gleeful.
Parrish's eyes dart around the table and settle on Lorne's. It makes Lorne's stomach drop. He should say something. What he doesn't mean to say but does, is, "Go ahead, Doc."
Sometimes he is not a good role model.
Parrish uses his spoon to gather a large dollop of the crushed root and raises it to his lips. He closes his eyes and eats it. "Oh," he says. "It's sweet." Then he blinks and looks down, as if he's expecting an immediate response. "When--?" he asks tentatively.
Everyone laughs again, even Cortez, and Parrish's blush deepens. The female botanist claps him on the shoulder and says, "We had thought to show you a few of the greenhouses tonight, but perhaps that can wait until tomorrow."
The townsfolk are certainly amused at the turn of events. Parrish finally finishes his stew and makes it through dessert and tea without showing signs of distress. Cadman seems disappointed. She bugs him all the way to their rooms. "Nothing?" she asks for the third time.
"Let it go," Parrish answers, sliding through the door and into his room. He shuts it and Lorne hears the lock click into place.
Lorne enters his own room and drops his backpack, removes his vest and jacket. He turns back to the door, thinking to lock it--standard protocol--but doesn't. His hands hover uncertainly and in the back of his head he knows exactly why he leaves it open. And why he isn't sleeping in his pants and shirt like he normally does, why he's stripped completely naked, feeling vulnerable and stupid and not like a very good role model at all.
Lorne's almost asleep, finally, trying to pretend there isn't an ache of disappointment in his gut when his door opens. The sound sends a jolt of adrenaline through him, and when he sees that the dark shape has to be Parrish he lets out the breath he was holding.
Parrish stops at the edge of the bed, and Lorne thinks he sees him trembling. Lorne reaches out and grabs his hand and Parrish kneels, puts his head on the blanket next to Lorne's shoulder. Lorne rubs the back of his neck and says, "I shouldn't have pushed you, I'm sorry. That was really stupid."
Parrish just shakes his head and mumbles, "It's my fault. I wanted an excuse for this, but I don't know how I could ask you to--" Lorne pulls him up, and then down, and kisses him. Parrish kisses him back desperately, and Lorne tugs more, shoving the blanket aside as Parrish tumbles on top of him. Lorne pulls off Parrish's shirt, needy for skin, running his hands along the outlines of ribs and spine. Every touch elicits a gasp, and when he works at the buttons of Parrish's pants he fumbles because the noises Parrish is making is causing Lorne's fingers to shake.
But then they are both finally naked, and kissing again, and though Lorne would love to spend some time exploring every inch of skin, he senses Parrish's urgency. Parrish pulls back and swallows, licks his lips. "You don't have to do this out of a sense of duty," he says quietly. "Or--or to be nice."
Lorne laughs, still out of breath. "God, David, I wouldn't let someone fuck me just to be nice."
David exhales loudly and his head falls onto Lorne's shoulder. A shiver runs through his entire body. "Oh," he whispers faintly. "Evan, I--" He shivers again, and Lorne can feel the muscles in his back coil and tense. Lorne runs his hands through David's hair. David sighs, and kisses Lorne's shoulder, and his neck, and moves down his chest, lips and hands and tongue tracing a path of desire and need. Lorne relaxes and tenses in turn, storing the map of these first touches between them. Lorne moans when David's breath ghosts against his hip, gasps at the feel of tongue and fingers on his cock. David works him until the only thing Lorne can do is say David's name over and over again.
Lorne is grateful that David doesn't stop to ask him if he's sure that he wants this. He does. He is filled with want. David's tongue and fingers are doing other things now and Lorne is pretty sure that the only reason he is remembering to breathe is to follow the rhythm of David's fingers. The stretch is sweet and the slick just enough and then David shifts position and Lorne cries out when David pushes into him.
It's good, it's so so so good, and he must have said that out loud because David huffs a breath of laughter into his ear and says, "Yeah, it's good, oh, Evan, god." Lorne is glad to have David's skin against him again, and he thinks he is possibly the worst role model ever but he doesn't care because he is about to come.
David pants onto his neck and Lorne raises his hips and there is exactly the right amount of friction everywhere. Lorne shudders and clutches David's shoulders as his orgasm rips through him, and the tiny part of his brain that is still aware of its surroundings is immensely pleased that this causes David to whimper, grab Lorne's hips, and thrust harder. He is not afraid to admit that the way David says his name when he comes also pleases him very much.
Lorne is almost asleep again when David stirs at his side. "Should I go?" he asks, voice carefully even.
Lorne pauses but answers, "No," before the pause can be long enough for David to think he's having second thoughts. And just in case, he pulls David closer, breathes the scent of clean sweat at the nape of his neck and follows it with a brush of his lips. "Never."
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I love the sex pollen/root/whatever first-time cliche, but with a choice (sort of) and them knowing what they are getting into (sort of).
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There is that. But what I think is special and awesome about this particular story is that... since Parrish (and therefore the readers) are coming at it from a botany perspective, the helping with the rash and the eating root situation... they seem less like cliches. Because Parrish *would* know what to do about the rash. And the natives didn't have to be squicky and mean and underhanded or hopelessly ignorant - it came about as part of that discussion they were all having.
All of which is further proof to me (because I've definitely thought it before today!) that I really love how your creativity works. *hugs your brain*
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My brain appreciates the hugs and wishes it could go to sleep >_
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He is angry, too, and frustrated, and he is going to have to eat a stupid nut to prove that he is not an evil god who wants to destroy their village, just a guy who happens to have the Ancient gene. He's not sure where the logic is in this little ceremony. No, he knows logic flew out the proverbial window the moment the pillar lit up with a gajillion little green lights and the nearest villagers stepped back and went, "Oooooh," like a parody of a bad movie and someone hit him over the head and tied him up.
Hilarious!! I love your writing! They are so wonderful as a pair in your hands :)
LOL to the potatoes, that was my favourite. I honestly laughed out loud at Lorne's smug silent communication *GGG*
The yummy urticaria was so sensual and delicious and funny. I could read your L/P all day :D
GUH. Last one. Made of win! RRrrrrrrrrr.... *flail*
Thank you!!
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Yay for Parrish, and yay for your super awesome imagination, you make such great stories with this pairing.
This is story is made of awesome, and made me lol in some parts, and...
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Just swinging by to let you know I just rec'ced this at
PS. Also I friended you, cos your art rocks!
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Love that icon--great lyrics!
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I know some folks are squicked by AMTDI (or, in this case, Alien Roots Made Them Do It). But I think you introduced the idea of their mutual desire in the "stinging nettles" part, & Parrish doesn't seem to be coerced by anything stronger than peer pressure when he eats the Yoni root. To me it doesn't feel any more non-consensual than two people who are attracted to each other getting teased by co-workers & having drinks together, then having sex later. Everyone has a different take on these things tho'....
Also, if you wonder about these things, I'm here by way of a rec at
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I don't necessarily mind AMTDI sometimes but I definitely wanted Parrish to know what he was getting into! And it was offered more as a potential trade item and because Parrish was being skeptical...which are all nuances, I suppose, but I wanted that distinction.
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re: Five Times Lorne Was Glad Parrish Was On His Team
"And our blue tile greenhouse is dedicated to plants that bring the senses alive," Mayor Dorren says proudly. He raises his eyebrows when Cadman elbows Parrish in the ribs. "Is that of particular interest to you?" he asks. "Many other visitors seek that as well."
Ahahahaha, they are like, Risa.