October Challenge: Prompts 3 and 4
Oct. 5th, 2006 12:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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slashing_lorneTitle: A Learning Experience
Pairing: Lorne/Beckett
Word Count: 1006
Rating: T
Summary: Lorne learns something new every day.
Prompt: "British" and "Plaid"
Evan hissed in between his teeth as Melissa stabbed him in the knee yet again with one of her insufferably dainty pins. He jerked his leg, which caused the kneeling woman to whip her head up in a spray of black hair and glare at him in exactly the same manner she had the past seventeen times he'd moved.
"If you don't keep still, I'll just have to redo the pinnin', and you'll be here longer, Major--you might as well keep yourself quiet and get it over with."
he sighed, absolutely put-upon, and resolved to give Murray midnight patrol for the next three weeks. It wasn't his fault he was almost exctly the same height and weight as Lieutenant Thomas Murray, jolly Marine of Scots-English descent, beloved by all of Atlantis, especially the female set. Come to think of it, most Marines were the same size and shape, really--they all took the same exercise, ran the same patrols, hefted the same weapons. Why he got stuck with this particular duty was really beyond him. Carson had glared at him and shooed him from their shared rooms when he'd tried to complain--Thomas was, after all, marrying Carson's head nurse, Shelly. If he'd known moving in with the base's doctor was going to be such trouble, he'd have reconsidered keeping his own room--oh who'm I kidding? I wouldn't give up that man's knowledge of male physiology for any amo--" "OW!!! MOTHERF---"
Melissa gave him a particularly heated glare this time and menaced his upper knee with her little snipping scissors, making it quite clear that if a single pleat went wrong,she'd hold him (and possibly his manhood) personally responsible.
Of course Murray would have to be called offworld to help with setting up the new Alpha site for a few days--and of course his wedding would just have to be so quickly approaching even Carson's teeth were on edge from Shelly's constant worrying and stopping by at odd hours to ask advice. And of course....of course Lorne had been deemed the most appropriate stand-in for Thomas's body as his kilt and sash were meticulously hand-pleated and pinned in place. Melissa Kinnard, usually a friendly and bright-eyed particle physicist under Mckay's iron-fisted rule, had volunteered to do the long and arduous pinning, and she seemed to like it little better than Lorne did.
At hour three, he stared down the long green-and blue plaid length of his....skirt and wondered just when his life had taken this truly, spectacularly bad turn. He saw the little pouch and knee-socks sitting off to the side, and had a brief nightmare-image of Melissa trying them on him "just to test the effect." He nearly dozed off a few minutes later, but was awakened by what could only be described as a girlish squeal and nearly fell from his perch (an old ammunitions case, and wasn't that insult to injury.)
Laura Cadman stood in the doorway, hands clasped beneath her chin in a gesture of childlike glee. If he hadn't seen it himself, he'd have sworn a woman's eyes couldn't glitter with glee like that. For a moment he wasn't entirely sure whether it was because she found the kilt attractive--or if she just relished the idea of holding this over his head for the rest of his natural life.
"OH MAJOR!!! Oh..Oh I do so love a man in a kilt!! Are you going regimental under there!?"
He made a mental note to have that sexual harassment conversation with Cadman at his earliest convenience.
"ah no, sadly not, dear--I've seen 'em--olive drab boxers--quite boring actually."
Melissa beamed up at him with innocent "don't cross me, I've got the pins" eyes.
-----------------------------
He arrived home later than usual, the halls were already dark and devoid of life--the night outside moonless and velvet-black. His shins pricked with pin-stabs, his cheeks still burned with embarassment from Melissa's last comment that "if he wanted to act as her personal manequin, he was welcome to any time."
He toed off his heavy boots at the front door and shuffled quietly through the darkened living area--Carson often came home exhausted, and fell quickly into sleep--but it was a job requirement that he sleep lightly. As he approached the bedroom, he noticed the large trunk that usually served as an endtable pulled open, the lid yawning dark and mysterious in the already dark room. Without further thought on the subject, he approached the bedroom door (closed--strange, but not terribly so). It opened immediately to him, a soft hiss--the sound was echoed moments later by Major Lorne himself.
Doctor Carson Beckett lay propped against the headboard, shirtless, a kilt not unlike the one Lorne had shed no more than an hour ago riding low on his hips. The kilt was perfectly-pleated (and Lorne should know by now, he'd spent all day watching how it was done.) Carson's knee was bent, exposing a pale flash of thigh---and a shadow that hid darker, more intimate things....things that sent Lorne's mouth watering. He'd known Carson's heritage, of course--that soft Scots brogue had been one of the things that had drawn him to Carson in the first place.....but somehow he'd never considered what Carson might look like in a kilt.
Oh God
Carson barely glanced over the top of the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose.
"evenin' lad....I heard you had some trouble with Lieutenant Murray's kilt t'day....thought we might use some positive reinforcement. Just ta make sure you're not traumatised against tartan, of course."
His lover smiled that wicked-sweet smile he often got when the sex had been particularly good, and the games were just getting interesting. He laid the book and glasses aside with practiced, easy movements, being sure to spread his legs a bit as he leaned over. Lorne's breath stopped in his chest and he began slowly peeling out of his BDUs, intent on showing Carson just how much he'd learned about putting on and taking off kilts.
Lorne has to pose, he doesn't have to LIKE it.
Title: Nature's inevitability
Pairing: Lorne/Zelenka
Word Count: 421
Rating: Hard R?
Summary: Thunder Rolls
Prompt: "Stormy"
Oct 4 - Hurricane Hilda, kills 38 in La, Miss and Ga: write a drabble/ficlet about Lorne and his lover in bad weather. Single word prompt: stormy
Radek's eyes were storm-grey when he was upset, when he worried as he often did--when the equations weren't adding up and the hardware didn't fit the software--when his version didn't match the one Mckay was currently running.
His eyes were clear blue-grey when he was smiling--when he was laughing--when times were good and the pains of one week here, another there were far-away.
On occasion, they were a deep slate-the color of stormy skies turned dangerous--when his pupils widened, darker than the space between Pegasus and the Milky way.
That's how his eyes looked now--pupils blown wide, thin rim of slate-blue, magnified behind spectacles that were as much a part of him as his flyaway brown hair or his soft, clipped accent. As much a part of him as his soft pink mouth--always shaping words Lorne couldn't quite grasp--murmuring about concepts that were as little a part of Lorne's life as guns and killing were of Radek's.
That familiar, full mouth, so intimate with concepts alien to the military mind--was doing things altogether familiar now. Lorne's fingers ran though his soft brown hair, pulling gently--never guiding, no-no that would take away from Radek's genius--and who was he to meddle with perfection?
Lightning flashed outside, storm clouds ebbed and flowed across the 'lantean sky...they were alone, together, beneath Atlantis's sheltering roof. There was a storm here as well--and Lorne clenched his teeth as the lightning raced up his spine. The crack of thunder would follow soon after, Lorne knew--but he wasn't prepared--he never was...when Radek's eyes went dark, nothing was certain, nothing was planned. The sharp slap to his ass wasn't new--it was routine, it was comforting, even, when compared to the next part-a hastily-slicked finger, rough and burning. He murmured in quiet protest, helpless beneath the storm, eyes flashing open as his body accepted, welcomed the intrusion. Suddenly heavy with the oncoming deluge, Lorne let his head fall back, let his hand fall away, afraid to touch, lest he interrupt nature's inevitable course. The wind rattled the windows, hail fell, a rough chorous in his ears--and stormy-eyed Radek rode it out with him.
When he let go, when light flashed and thunder rolled and his body shook itself as if in the strongest of winds, Lorne cried out Radek's name--and the rolling hiss of waves against the city masked the sound.
Pairing: Lorne/Beckett
Word Count: 1006
Rating: T
Summary: Lorne learns something new every day.
Prompt: "British" and "Plaid"
Evan hissed in between his teeth as Melissa stabbed him in the knee yet again with one of her insufferably dainty pins. He jerked his leg, which caused the kneeling woman to whip her head up in a spray of black hair and glare at him in exactly the same manner she had the past seventeen times he'd moved.
"If you don't keep still, I'll just have to redo the pinnin', and you'll be here longer, Major--you might as well keep yourself quiet and get it over with."
he sighed, absolutely put-upon, and resolved to give Murray midnight patrol for the next three weeks. It wasn't his fault he was almost exctly the same height and weight as Lieutenant Thomas Murray, jolly Marine of Scots-English descent, beloved by all of Atlantis, especially the female set. Come to think of it, most Marines were the same size and shape, really--they all took the same exercise, ran the same patrols, hefted the same weapons. Why he got stuck with this particular duty was really beyond him. Carson had glared at him and shooed him from their shared rooms when he'd tried to complain--Thomas was, after all, marrying Carson's head nurse, Shelly. If he'd known moving in with the base's doctor was going to be such trouble, he'd have reconsidered keeping his own room--oh who'm I kidding? I wouldn't give up that man's knowledge of male physiology for any amo--" "OW!!! MOTHERF---"
Melissa gave him a particularly heated glare this time and menaced his upper knee with her little snipping scissors, making it quite clear that if a single pleat went wrong,she'd hold him (and possibly his manhood) personally responsible.
Of course Murray would have to be called offworld to help with setting up the new Alpha site for a few days--and of course his wedding would just have to be so quickly approaching even Carson's teeth were on edge from Shelly's constant worrying and stopping by at odd hours to ask advice. And of course....of course Lorne had been deemed the most appropriate stand-in for Thomas's body as his kilt and sash were meticulously hand-pleated and pinned in place. Melissa Kinnard, usually a friendly and bright-eyed particle physicist under Mckay's iron-fisted rule, had volunteered to do the long and arduous pinning, and she seemed to like it little better than Lorne did.
At hour three, he stared down the long green-and blue plaid length of his....skirt and wondered just when his life had taken this truly, spectacularly bad turn. He saw the little pouch and knee-socks sitting off to the side, and had a brief nightmare-image of Melissa trying them on him "just to test the effect." He nearly dozed off a few minutes later, but was awakened by what could only be described as a girlish squeal and nearly fell from his perch (an old ammunitions case, and wasn't that insult to injury.)
Laura Cadman stood in the doorway, hands clasped beneath her chin in a gesture of childlike glee. If he hadn't seen it himself, he'd have sworn a woman's eyes couldn't glitter with glee like that. For a moment he wasn't entirely sure whether it was because she found the kilt attractive--or if she just relished the idea of holding this over his head for the rest of his natural life.
"OH MAJOR!!! Oh..Oh I do so love a man in a kilt!! Are you going regimental under there!?"
He made a mental note to have that sexual harassment conversation with Cadman at his earliest convenience.
"ah no, sadly not, dear--I've seen 'em--olive drab boxers--quite boring actually."
Melissa beamed up at him with innocent "don't cross me, I've got the pins" eyes.
-----------------------------
He arrived home later than usual, the halls were already dark and devoid of life--the night outside moonless and velvet-black. His shins pricked with pin-stabs, his cheeks still burned with embarassment from Melissa's last comment that "if he wanted to act as her personal manequin, he was welcome to any time."
He toed off his heavy boots at the front door and shuffled quietly through the darkened living area--Carson often came home exhausted, and fell quickly into sleep--but it was a job requirement that he sleep lightly. As he approached the bedroom, he noticed the large trunk that usually served as an endtable pulled open, the lid yawning dark and mysterious in the already dark room. Without further thought on the subject, he approached the bedroom door (closed--strange, but not terribly so). It opened immediately to him, a soft hiss--the sound was echoed moments later by Major Lorne himself.
Doctor Carson Beckett lay propped against the headboard, shirtless, a kilt not unlike the one Lorne had shed no more than an hour ago riding low on his hips. The kilt was perfectly-pleated (and Lorne should know by now, he'd spent all day watching how it was done.) Carson's knee was bent, exposing a pale flash of thigh---and a shadow that hid darker, more intimate things....things that sent Lorne's mouth watering. He'd known Carson's heritage, of course--that soft Scots brogue had been one of the things that had drawn him to Carson in the first place.....but somehow he'd never considered what Carson might look like in a kilt.
Oh God
Carson barely glanced over the top of the book he was reading, glasses perched on his nose.
"evenin' lad....I heard you had some trouble with Lieutenant Murray's kilt t'day....thought we might use some positive reinforcement. Just ta make sure you're not traumatised against tartan, of course."
His lover smiled that wicked-sweet smile he often got when the sex had been particularly good, and the games were just getting interesting. He laid the book and glasses aside with practiced, easy movements, being sure to spread his legs a bit as he leaned over. Lorne's breath stopped in his chest and he began slowly peeling out of his BDUs, intent on showing Carson just how much he'd learned about putting on and taking off kilts.
Lorne has to pose, he doesn't have to LIKE it.
Title: Nature's inevitability
Pairing: Lorne/Zelenka
Word Count: 421
Rating: Hard R?
Summary: Thunder Rolls
Prompt: "Stormy"
Oct 4 - Hurricane Hilda, kills 38 in La, Miss and Ga: write a drabble/ficlet about Lorne and his lover in bad weather. Single word prompt: stormy
Radek's eyes were storm-grey when he was upset, when he worried as he often did--when the equations weren't adding up and the hardware didn't fit the software--when his version didn't match the one Mckay was currently running.
His eyes were clear blue-grey when he was smiling--when he was laughing--when times were good and the pains of one week here, another there were far-away.
On occasion, they were a deep slate-the color of stormy skies turned dangerous--when his pupils widened, darker than the space between Pegasus and the Milky way.
That's how his eyes looked now--pupils blown wide, thin rim of slate-blue, magnified behind spectacles that were as much a part of him as his flyaway brown hair or his soft, clipped accent. As much a part of him as his soft pink mouth--always shaping words Lorne couldn't quite grasp--murmuring about concepts that were as little a part of Lorne's life as guns and killing were of Radek's.
That familiar, full mouth, so intimate with concepts alien to the military mind--was doing things altogether familiar now. Lorne's fingers ran though his soft brown hair, pulling gently--never guiding, no-no that would take away from Radek's genius--and who was he to meddle with perfection?
Lightning flashed outside, storm clouds ebbed and flowed across the 'lantean sky...they were alone, together, beneath Atlantis's sheltering roof. There was a storm here as well--and Lorne clenched his teeth as the lightning raced up his spine. The crack of thunder would follow soon after, Lorne knew--but he wasn't prepared--he never was...when Radek's eyes went dark, nothing was certain, nothing was planned. The sharp slap to his ass wasn't new--it was routine, it was comforting, even, when compared to the next part-a hastily-slicked finger, rough and burning. He murmured in quiet protest, helpless beneath the storm, eyes flashing open as his body accepted, welcomed the intrusion. Suddenly heavy with the oncoming deluge, Lorne let his head fall back, let his hand fall away, afraid to touch, lest he interrupt nature's inevitable course. The wind rattled the windows, hail fell, a rough chorous in his ears--and stormy-eyed Radek rode it out with him.
When he let go, when light flashed and thunder rolled and his body shook itself as if in the strongest of winds, Lorne cried out Radek's name--and the rolling hiss of waves against the city masked the sound.
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no subject
Date: 2006-10-05 12:07 pm (UTC)And you know I love ANYTHING with Radek in it. I loved the link between his eyes and the storm. And the beautiful description of the storm and ah hell, I just loved all of it!
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Date: 2006-10-08 02:16 pm (UTC)Radek was just hot!!!!