07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: On the ground, off-world (Lorne/McKay; NC-17)"

Title: On the ground, off-world
Pairing: McKay/Lorne
Rating: NC-17
Words: About 2300
Summary: "Shut up, Major," McKay mutters, "and take off your pants."
Notes: Many thanks to seikaitsukimizu for beta and reassurance!

Sometimes, just once in a while, Evan's not in the mood for off-world sex.

But most of the time he loves it. During his first three months on Atlantis, despite the Wraith, hostile locals, CO insect transformations and losing too many of his men – he's had more sex than he'd had in a year and a half at the SGC. Good sex, excellent sex, unexpected and surprising sex. He's had athletic sex, sex in the dark, sex under almost-fluorescent lights, and slow, languorous sex that left him blissed-out and drowsy.

There's just something about sex and Pegasus Galaxy cultures. Some of the anthropologists argue that the Wraith cullings foster societies that prize and reward procreation and genetic diversity. It's a nice theory, but that doesn't explain why half the time Evan ends up having sex with a local man, with absolutely no talk of babies, procreation, or the gene pool.

Privately, he suspects that people in the Pegasus Galaxy just get it whenever they can, while they can. And he figures that they're a little kinkier than back home.

Or maybe it's luck. Sheppard's team gets the crazy farmers and the insect attacks; they get accidentally stuck on prison islands, hooked on drugs, and meet mist creatures that try to eat them. Evan's team just seems to make a lot of first contact with people who seal their trade agreements in the old-fashion, bodily-sharing way.

He's had sex in tents, sex in a treehouse, sex on altars, group sex, and mind-blowing sex with what turned out to be a plant. She'd looked pretty human at the time, though.

He's had chatty, hot sex with Parrish; unexpectedly kinky sex with Cadman; and once – just the once – he had sex with Stackhouse.

"Don't take this the wrong way, sir," Stackhouse had said later, "but you were the best I've ever had." It had been a little awkward between them for a few days, but eventually Stackhouse had gotten over it.

He's had sex with a couple of priestesses, too many farmers to count, and he's even had sex with his hand while leaning against yet another altar.

"Masturbation doesn't count as sex," Cadman had muttered after that particular time. "You can't count that one."

"Do you think I'm keeping a tally, Cadman?" Privately, he'd thought it should count because so many people had been watching.

"Of course not, sir."

"Good." It's not like it's a competition.

Sure, in the Pegasus Galaxy he gets shot at a lot, and aliens are trying to eat him. Sure, his CO is a little crazy, and sometimes the scientists are irritating as hell.

But he can't fault all the sex.

Except maybe right now.

Right now, a sharp stone is digging into his knee, he's just been knocked in the face with an elbow, the climate is hot and sticky and mostly, he just wants a beer. Or two. "My face hurts." It really does.

"Shut up, Major," McKay mutters, "and take off your pants." His fingers are working at Evan's belt, ineffectual and clumsy, and the way he's squirming – flat on his back, spread out between Evan's thighs – is jerky enough that Evan keeps losing his balance.

Make that three beers.

It just figures that Sheppard is laid up with some kind of flu, and that he'd insisted Evan could be his replacement for this mission.

"God, I can't believe this. Sex for food. I feel like some kind of cheap whore."

Evan presses his hand down on McKay's chest to stop him moving around, and with the other hand, flicks open his pants. "It's not exactly for food, McKay." Well, not just for food.

McKay scowls. "Fine, whatever, it doesn't matter what it's for – I'm still getting sweaty and naked with a jarhead –"

"I'm in the Air Force –"

" – on the ground, with only a pathetic blanket to lie on –"

The blanket is pretty pathetic. Evan's seen far better set-ups. But at least they're inside.

"—and will you please stop holding me down like that?" He slaps at Evan's hand, but doesn't bother to try and buck Evan off.

Evan smirks. "What's a little sex between friends for a good cause?" He got over that particular hang-up months ago. He slides his fingers along the waistband of McKay's pants.

"We're not friends, Major."

"I've shot things for you." Once or twice. Several times, actually. He shifts, trying to get away from the stone under his knee, and McKay's eyes cross, just briefly. Evan shifts again, this time slower, slipping his fingers underneath McKay's shirt. McKay has nice skin, smooth and warm.

"Shooting," McKay mutters, teeth clenched, "is not friendship." His hips press up against Evan though, just enough that Evan figures maybe bitching is part of what gets McKay hot for it. Because he's definitely hot for it, hard and panting under all the chatter.

"It could be worse. If you'd come with Colonel Sheppard, the locals probably would have tried to kill you all." He undoes McKay's pants, and moves again, enough that McKay can spread his legs out a little.

McKay is wearing black boxer briefs. It's a little surprising and more than a little hot. He wants to lean down and mouth at the edge of them, trace the texture with his lips. He wants to suck at McKay's cock through the fabric, tasting clean cotton and warmth and dick. Thinking about it makes him want it more – sucking on the fabric until it's soaked, until McKay is begging for him to take them off, to do something. He's about to lean down when McKay asks,

"What? Kill us? What are you talking about?"

Evan looks up, shrugging, exasperated. "That's the way it goes. Sheppard's team nearly dies; my team has a lot of off-world sex.

McKay pushes himself up on his elbows, so fast that Evan nearly falls over. "You have a lot – what? This happens to you all the – I thought that Sheppard was the intergalactic space slut, but it turns out it's you?"

To be fair, it's not just him. "And my team," he says, moving to crouch on the blanket beside, rather than over, McKay.

"Cadman?" McKay looks a little wild.

"Yep." He glances down, eyeing McKay's open pants and the edge of those black boxer briefs, and thinking maybe –

"Oh god, Parrish? Parrish is getting more sex than I've seen in months?"

"Pretty much."

"How did I not hear about –"

"We try to keep quiet about it. For obvious reasons." Evan stands up and kicks off his pants. "Are we going to do this anytime soon? Because the next check-in with Atlantis is in an hour." He'd like to have his pants back on for that. "And the others are waiting."

McKay glares, but asks, "Do you usually kiss during your off-world sexploits?"

"Sexploits?" He can't help laughing, especially when McKay flushes, just a little. "Uh. Yeah, I do."

"Good," McKay mutters, flushing again. "Good. Excellent. Great, even." He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "So? Come on, then."

"No more talking?" He starts to pull his shirt up, off.

"Stop. Leave the shirt on."

"On?" He kneels back down, right next to McKay who still hasn't managed to take anything off, not even his boots.

"Yeah. So I have something to hold on to," McKay says, and then reaches up and yanks Evan down.

His chin bumps McKay's nose, his elbow comes down on McKay's chest, it's awkward and uncomfortable, and Evan thinks it figures, of course it's going to be like this with McKay, of course –

And then something shifts. McKay's mouth is against his, McKay's hand curved around Evan's head, and god, kissing, McKay kisses like he's living for it, like there's nothing else in the world.

Finally, Evan thinks. Once McKay gets with the program, apparently he does it with a vengeance. He tugs and pulls, adjusting, shifting, moaning into Evan's mouth, until he's got Evan back over him, their hips grinding together, McKay's hand fisted in Evan's shirt.

Evan grins.

McKay smirks. His mouth is still curved, smug, when Evan leans back down and licks out, once along the line of McKay's lips.

This time it's not awkward at all. Instead, it's the rub of McKay's pants against Evan's thighs, the press of McKay's hand on Evan's hip, holding him close, guiding him. It's the push of McKay's cock against him, pressing through layers of cloth, hard and hot, and Evan can just imagine what it looks like, under that black cloth – flushed and heavy, slick around the head, and the thought of it makes him grind down in rough circles, mimicking the movements with his tongue, huffing when McKay meets him with a hint of teeth.

Evan's palms are grinding against the floor, the sensation grounding him, even though what he really wants is to run his hands over McKay's shoulders; smooth over the curves and the flex of muscles every time McKay's fingers clench or his arm tightens against Evan's waist.

"Maybe next time," he manages, pulling back to take a breath.

"What?" McKay looks dazed, breathless. His lips are swollen, slick and Evan wonders, just briefly, why exactly he bothered to pull away. "What?"

"You're pretty good at this."

"Of course I am." But his tone lacks bite, even when he adds, "Are we going to chat about this again?"

"No –" Evan starts, but McKay lurches up, flipping them over, pushing Evan back against the blanket.

Interesting. Hot. And Evan can get his hands on McKay's shoulders now – feels them flex against his palms, grins at the grunt when he digs his thumbs into tense muscles. He expects more kissing, but instead McKay pushes up Evan's shirt and mouths along his stomach, wet and hot, and Jesus, that's good. The slide of lips across his skin, the way McKay traces Evan's hip bone with his tongue, wet and dirty.

"Up, up," McKay mutters frantically after a few moments, his mouth inches from Evan's skin. "Come on –"

But Evan doesn't need to be told twice, just tilts his hips up enough that McKay can yank his boxers down, can press his nose in tight against Evan's hip.

"Unexpected –" he starts, because it is, it really is – McKay so urgent, eager, tracing circles on Evan's stomach, nuzzling, his cheek bumping against Evan's cock once, twice, before McKay turns his head, stubble scraping Evan's skin, and there it is – wet heat on his cock. McKay tongues the head, slow and sure, like he's getting the lay of the land, figuring out his next move. McKay strokes Evan's cock, following the movements with his tongue; slick, wet, messy sounds get mixed up with Evan's harsh breathing, making him hotter for it, and finally, finally, McKay opens up his mouth and sucks Evan, slow and even and measured.

Evan wants to watch – to see if McKay keeps his eyes closed while he sucks, to see the hollowed curve of his flushed cheeks – but it's too much, so he lets his head fall back, lets one hand fist at his side and the other clench at McKay's shoulder.

"Yeah," he grates out, groaning, because slow is good, slow and exploratory. McKay's lips wrapped around Evan's cock is so fucking hot that Evan can't quite breathe, he's just taking stuttering gasps with each twist of McKay's tongue, each press-and-release of suction. Maybe McKay can't take him very deep, but Evan doesn't care – the shallow fuck into McKay's mouth is hot as hell.

And then McKay does take him deep, sliding down quickly, easily, like he'd just been waiting for the right moment, and Evan can't help it – he bucks up, hard, goes deeper, hitting the back of McKay's throat, and Jesus McKay lets him – lets Evan do it again, works his throat against Evan's cock for long seconds before pulling back to shallow and easy.

He can't last long, not like this, even if he wants to. McKay does it again – slides right down – and again.

"McKay –" Evan manages, almost too late, and McKay pulls off, hands already yanking at his own pants. Evan barely has time to register the sight – McKay's cock, heavy and thick, black briefs pulled down around his hips – before McKay's cock is brushing against his, a jolt of pleasure that sets him off.

Above him, McKay grins, a little feral. Then he's shoving against Evan's stomach, sliding in Evan's come, making it even better, riding Evan right through it until McKay's coming too, hips jerking in small, desperate movements.

His arms waver, and he collapses on Evan. "Holy shit," he mutters against Evan's shoulder.

The slight movement makes Evan shudder, his back arching. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah."

*

"So, listen." McKay's doing his pants up and straightening his shirt. There's a stain on the edge; McKay's hair is a little messed, and his eyes aren't quite focussed. "Sheppard says sometimes I should go out with other teams, give them the benefit of my knowledge."

Evan's fairly certain Sheppard's never said anything like that.

"There's the possibility that I might get rotated to your team. Once in a while. I could switch with Parrish and he could introduce Sheppard to the joys of the botanical sciences –"

"No." There's no way in hell he's sending Parrish out with Sheppard.

"—or not. Maybe someone wouldn't have to switch, I could just come along on missions that look like they might be ahh, technologically promising."

Evan's got to hand it to McKay – he's persistent.

"Because it's not as if Parrish would be able to pick up on any intriguing technology –"

"McKay –"

"Not that it's Parrish's fault he's obsessed with plants," McKay adds, hurriedly. "I just really think it could be to your team's advantage, Major –"

"No," Evan says again. But he's smiling, and he's thinking, maybe.

End.




	Home Archives July 2007 SGA Fic: On the ground, off-world (Lorne/McKay; NC-17) [Previous entry: "SGA Fic: Side Effect (Lorne/Parrish; R)"] [Next entry: "SGA Fic: The Day After (Lorne/Parrish; PG-13)"] 07/29/2007: "SGA Fic: On the ground, off-world (Lorne/McKay; NC-17)" Title: On the ground, off-world Pairing: McKay/Lorne Rating: NC-17 Words: About 2300 Summary: "Shut up, Major," McKay mutters, "and take off your pants." Notes: Many thanks to seikaitsukimizu for beta and reassurance! Sometimes, just once in a while, Evan's not in the mood for off-world sex. But most of the time he loves it. During his first three months on Atlantis, despite the Wraith, hostile locals, CO insect transformations and losing too many of his men – he's had more sex than he'd had in a year and a half at the SGC. Good sex, excellent sex, unexpected and surprising sex. He's had athletic sex, sex in the dark, sex under almost-fluorescent lights, and slow, languorous sex that left him blissed-out and drowsy. There's just something about sex and Pegasus Galaxy cultures. Some of the anthropologists argue that the Wraith cullings foster societies that prize and reward procreation and genetic diversity. It's a nice theory, but that doesn't explain why half the time Evan ends up having sex with a local man, with absolutely no talk of babies, procreation, or the gene pool. Privately, he suspects that people in the Pegasus Galaxy just get it whenever they can, while they can. And he figures that they're a little kinkier than back home. Or maybe it's luck. Sheppard's team gets the crazy farmers and the insect attacks; they get accidentally stuck on prison islands, hooked on drugs, and meet mist creatures that try to eat them. Evan's team just seems to make a lot of first contact with people who seal their trade agreements in the old-fashion, bodily-sharing way. He's had sex in tents, sex in a treehouse, sex on altars, group sex, and mind-blowing sex with what turned out to be a plant. She'd looked pretty human at the time, though. He's had chatty, hot sex with Parrish; unexpectedly kinky sex with Cadman; and once – just the once – he had sex with Stackhouse. "Don't take this the wrong way, sir," Stackhouse had said later, "but you were the best I've ever had." It had been a little awkward between them for a few days, but eventually Stackhouse had gotten over it. He's had sex with a couple of priestesses, too many farmers to count, and he's even had sex with his hand while leaning against yet another altar. "Masturbation doesn't count as sex," Cadman had muttered after that particular time. "You can't count that one." "Do you think I'm keeping a tally, Cadman?" Privately, he'd thought it should count because so many people had been watching. "Of course not, sir." "Good." It's not like it's a competition. Sure, in the Pegasus Galaxy he gets shot at a lot, and aliens are trying to eat him. Sure, his CO is a little crazy, and sometimes the scientists are irritating as hell. But he can't fault all the sex. Except maybe right now. Right now, a sharp stone is digging into his knee, he's just been knocked in the face with an elbow, the climate is hot and sticky and mostly, he just wants a beer. Or two. "My face hurts." It really does. "Shut up, Major," McKay mutters, "and take off your pants." His fingers are working at Evan's belt, ineffectual and clumsy, and the way he's squirming – flat on his back, spread out between Evan's thighs – is jerky enough that Evan keeps losing his balance. Make that three beers. It just figures that Sheppard is laid up with some kind of flu, and that he'd insisted Evan could be his replacement for this mission. "God, I can't believe this. Sex for food. I feel like some kind of cheap whore." Evan presses his hand down on McKay's chest to stop him moving around, and with the other hand, flicks open his pants. "It's not exactly for food, McKay." Well, not just for food. McKay scowls. "Fine, whatever, it doesn't matter what it's for – I'm still getting sweaty and naked with a jarhead –" "I'm in the Air Force –" " – on the ground, with only a pathetic blanket to lie on –" The blanket is pretty pathetic. Evan's seen far better set-ups. But at least they're inside. "—and will you please stop holding me down like that?" He slaps at Evan's hand, but doesn't bother to try and buck Evan off. Evan smirks. "What's a little sex between friends for a good cause?" He got over that particular hang-up months ago. He slides his fingers along the waistband of McKay's pants. "We're not friends, Major." "I've shot things for you." Once or twice. Several times, actually. He shifts, trying to get away from the stone under his knee, and McKay's eyes cross, just briefly. Evan shifts again, this time slower, slipping his fingers underneath McKay's shirt. McKay has nice skin, smooth and warm. "Shooting," McKay mutters, teeth clenched, "is not friendship." His hips press up against Evan though, just enough that Evan figures maybe bitching is part of what gets McKay hot for it. Because he's definitely hot for it, hard and panting under all the chatter. "It could be worse. If you'd come with Colonel Sheppard, the locals probably would have tried to kill you all." He undoes McKay's pants, and moves again, enough that McKay can spread his legs out a little. McKay is wearing black boxer briefs. It's a little surprising and more than a little hot. He wants to lean down and mouth at the edge of them, trace the texture with his lips. He wants to suck at McKay's cock through the fabric, tasting clean cotton and warmth and dick. Thinking about it makes him want it more – sucking on the fabric until it's soaked, until McKay is begging for him to take them off, to do something. He's about to lean down when McKay asks, "What? Kill us? What are you talking about?" Evan looks up, shrugging, exasperated. "That's the way it goes. Sheppard's team nearly dies; my team has a lot of off-world sex. McKay pushes himself up on his elbows, so fast that Evan nearly falls over. "You have a lot – what? This happens to you all the – I thought that Sheppard was the intergalactic space slut, but it turns out it's you?" To be fair, it's not just him. "And my team," he says, moving to crouch on the blanket beside, rather than over, McKay. "Cadman?" McKay looks a little wild. "Yep." He glances down, eyeing McKay's open pants and the edge of those black boxer briefs, and thinking maybe – "Oh god, Parrish? Parrish is getting more sex than I've seen in months?" "Pretty much." "How did I not hear about –" "We try to keep quiet about it. For obvious reasons." Evan stands up and kicks off his pants. "Are we going to do this anytime soon? Because the next check-in with Atlantis is in an hour." He'd like to have his pants back on for that. "And the others are waiting." McKay glares, but asks, "Do you usually kiss during your off-world sexploits?" "Sexploits?" He can't help laughing, especially when McKay flushes, just a little. "Uh. Yeah, I do." "Good," McKay mutters, flushing again. "Good. Excellent. Great, even." He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "So? Come on, then." "No more talking?" He starts to pull his shirt up, off. "Stop. Leave the shirt on." "On?" He kneels back down, right next to McKay who still hasn't managed to take anything off, not even his boots. "Yeah. So I have something to hold on to," McKay says, and then reaches up and yanks Evan down. His chin bumps McKay's nose, his elbow comes down on McKay's chest, it's awkward and uncomfortable, and Evan thinks it figures, of course it's going to be like this with McKay, of course – And then something shifts. McKay's mouth is against his, McKay's hand curved around Evan's head, and god, kissing, McKay kisses like he's living for it, like there's nothing else in the world. Finally, Evan thinks. Once McKay gets with the program, apparently he does it with a vengeance. He tugs and pulls, adjusting, shifting, moaning into Evan's mouth, until he's got Evan back over him, their hips grinding together, McKay's hand fisted in Evan's shirt. Evan grins. McKay smirks. His mouth is still curved, smug, when Evan leans back down and licks out, once along the line of McKay's lips. This time it's not awkward at all. Instead, it's the rub of McKay's pants against Evan's thighs, the press of McKay's hand on Evan's hip, holding him close, guiding him. It's the push of McKay's cock against him, pressing through layers of cloth, hard and hot, and Evan can just imagine what it looks like, under that black cloth – flushed and heavy, slick around the head, and the thought of it makes him grind down in rough circles, mimicking the movements with his tongue, huffing when McKay meets him with a hint of teeth. Evan's palms are grinding against the floor, the sensation grounding him, even though what he really wants is to run his hands over McKay's shoulders; smooth over the curves and the flex of muscles every time McKay's fingers clench or his arm tightens against Evan's waist. "Maybe next time," he manages, pulling back to take a breath. "What?" McKay looks dazed, breathless. His lips are swollen, slick and Evan wonders, just briefly, why exactly he bothered to pull away. "What?" "You're pretty good at this." "Of course I am." But his tone lacks bite, even when he adds, "Are we going to chat about this again?" "No –" Evan starts, but McKay lurches up, flipping them over, pushing Evan back against the blanket. Interesting. Hot. And Evan can get his hands on McKay's shoulders now – feels them flex against his palms, grins at the grunt when he digs his thumbs into tense muscles. He expects more kissing, but instead McKay pushes up Evan's shirt and mouths along his stomach, wet and hot, and Jesus, that's good. The slide of lips across his skin, the way McKay traces Evan's hip bone with his tongue, wet and dirty. "Up, up," McKay mutters frantically after a few moments, his mouth inches from Evan's skin. "Come on –" But Evan doesn't need to be told twice, just tilts his hips up enough that McKay can yank his boxers down, can press his nose in tight against Evan's hip. "Unexpected –" he starts, because it is, it really is – McKay so urgent, eager, tracing circles on Evan's stomach, nuzzling, his cheek bumping against Evan's cock once, twice, before McKay turns his head, stubble scraping Evan's skin, and there it is – wet heat on his cock. McKay tongues the head, slow and sure, like he's getting the lay of the land, figuring out his next move. McKay strokes Evan's cock, following the movements with his tongue; slick, wet, messy sounds get mixed up with Evan's harsh breathing, making him hotter for it, and finally, finally, McKay opens up his mouth and sucks Evan, slow and even and measured. Evan wants to watch – to see if McKay keeps his eyes closed while he sucks, to see the hollowed curve of his flushed cheeks – but it's too much, so he lets his head fall back, lets one hand fist at his side and the other clench at McKay's shoulder. "Yeah," he grates out, groaning, because slow is good, slow and exploratory. McKay's lips wrapped around Evan's cock is so fucking hot that Evan can't quite breathe, he's just taking stuttering gasps with each twist of McKay's tongue, each press-and-release of suction. Maybe McKay can't take him very deep, but Evan doesn't care – the shallow fuck into McKay's mouth is hot as hell. And then McKay does take him deep, sliding down quickly, easily, like he'd just been waiting for the right moment, and Evan can't help it – he bucks up, hard, goes deeper, hitting the back of McKay's throat, and Jesus McKay lets him – lets Evan do it again, works his throat against Evan's cock for long seconds before pulling back to shallow and easy. He can't last long, not like this, even if he wants to. McKay does it again – slides right down – and again. "McKay –" Evan manages, almost too late, and McKay pulls off, hands already yanking at his own pants. Evan barely has time to register the sight – McKay's cock, heavy and thick, black briefs pulled down around his hips – before McKay's cock is brushing against his, a jolt of pleasure that sets him off. Above him, McKay grins, a little feral. Then he's shoving against Evan's stomach, sliding in Evan's come, making it even better, riding Evan right through it until McKay's coming too, hips jerking in small, desperate movements. His arms waver, and he collapses on Evan. "Holy shit," he mutters against Evan's shoulder. The slight movement makes Evan shudder, his back arching. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah." * "So, listen." McKay's doing his pants up and straightening his shirt. There's a stain on the edge; McKay's hair is a little messed, and his eyes aren't quite focussed. "Sheppard says sometimes I should go out with other teams, give them the benefit of my knowledge." Evan's fairly certain Sheppard's never said anything like that. "There's the possibility that I might get rotated to your team. Once in a while. I could switch with Parrish and he could introduce Sheppard to the joys of the botanical sciences –" "No." There's no way in hell he's sending Parrish out with Sheppard. "—or not. Maybe someone wouldn't have to switch, I could just come along on missions that look like they might be ahh, technologically promising." Evan's got to hand it to McKay – he's persistent. "Because it's not as if Parrish would be able to pick up on any intriguing technology –" "McKay –" "Not that it's Parrish's fault he's obsessed with plants," McKay adds, hurriedly. "I just really think it could be to your team's advantage, Major –" "No," Evan says again. But he's smiling, and he's thinking, maybe. End.