A/N: Warning! This chapter is the reason why the story is rated M (=R). Please keep that in mind before you start reading.
Chapter 10
John had a long conversation with Rodney after the debate that consisted mostly of techno-babble and complaints about Rodney's scientists, but it still gave John a measure of normality and support he missed throughout the last week when all that had occupied his mind was Olam and Lorne.
Later he sat in his room with Ronon, Rodney and Teyla and, by some unspoken consensus, they'd talked about all sorts of inconsequential things. Like John's latest score in his golf game, Torren sneezing and Ronon kicking some of the scientists' asses after Woolsey insisted that they all learn self-defense following the abduction of the Deadalus by Todd.
Lorne went out to the garden with Keller and Radek, giving them all the space that they needed. John had noticed that he was close to both of them, and they seemed concerned for some reason during the ride to their guest quarters. John didn't know why but he did know that they were talking about something private that could probably confirm Shedim's suspicion, because they went into the Jumper at some point and closed the hatch after them.
After the others had returned to Atlantis, John stood alone in the room and stretched his back to release some kinks, then looked out of the window. The sun was setting and the garden was painted gold and orange because of some silver leafed tree.
As John watched through the window Lorne came into view, his back to the building and his face towards the little rocky valley that the garden overlooked, and John suddenly felt compelled to join him. There was something about Lorne's posture that seemed lonely and forlorn, and John snorted quietly to himself. His imagination was probably running wild, and it wasn't the first time. This time he simply lacked the inclination to fight it.
Outside the air was getting chilly, a sign that it wasn't summer yet, and the wind blew gently against the treetops. Lorne was huddled in his jacket when John joined him, but he looked up and offered a smile when John came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.
"Had a good time?" Lorne asked pleasantly, returning to gazing down at the valley.
John turned to look at well. It wasn't all that amazing and they both had seen it enough times by now to be familiar with it. "Sure. It made some of the stress disappear for a while," John replied easily.
"And now?"
"Now it's probably all back," John grimaced. His shoulders were tense and regretted not asking Teyla for a backrub. He didn't remember being so tense before, and the momentary respite only served to heighten the discomfort.
"It should," Lorne replied quietly. "They're getting very close to kicking us back through the gate."
"If we're lucky. I somehow have a feeling that we could end up a lot worse," John said somberly.
"We need to throw them a bone," the words came out haltingly, almost as if Lorne was reluctant to say them.
"The pictures idea was pretty much a waste," John said, a shiver going down his back as he remembered yet again the startling intimacy he and Lorne presented in their beach picture.
Suddenly Lorne was turning to him, his hands locking together around John's neck. John's hand instantly came up to cup Lorne's face, his thumb skimming the rough cheek and nicely shaped chin before he even realized what he was doing. His other hand was around Lorne's hips, securing Lorne against John's body.
John nearly stepped back, shocked at his own reaction. He was sure he would never have placed his hands there and was somewhat disturbed by the speed of his reaction. But Lorne's hands around his neck pressed into his nape gently and Lorne's leg came to rest parallel to John's, trapping him and preventing him from moving.
"Shedim is here," Lorne said quietly, lips moving but sound barely coming out.
"I know," John lied, needing a cover for his reaction to Lorne's proximity.
"We could give it to them now," Lorne offered, nose gently bumping against John's cheek, and John swallowed heavily when he saw Lorne's lips an inch from his. He was about to say something, ask something stupid like 'how' or 'what', when Lorne's body tensed up against him.
"What is it?" John asked directly into Lorne's ear, concerned and tensing up as well despite the strangeness of the situation. If it wasn't for the fact that Lorne was standing very close to him, John would never have felt it. But he did, and a quick assessment of the situation showed him that they were very exposed and vulnerable in their current position.
Lorne cursed, something John rarely heard him doing. "He's got Noman with him, some of his own party, Zamsh and even that neutral observer from before," Lorne reported, hands sliding down John's shoulders to rest lightly in the small of his back. John was about to tell him to step back so that they could both be within easy reach of their side arms, especially since a large party with unknown intentions was coming their way, but when he heard the last thing Lorne had said anger and possessiveness overclouded everything else.
"Sote?" John asked, tightening his hold on Lorne without even thinking about it. Only after Lorne struggled a little did John adjusted his hold and reduced the pressure.
Lorne cursed again. "Even Nahar is here!" he whispered, clearly distressed. John was the first to admit that he didn't know the minister of culture all that well, but he did know that he and Lorne had developed a fast friendship and that Lorne spent much time with him at the museum. Lonre valued his bond with Nahar and his opinion mattered to him.
"That's bad?" he asked, confused. He thought that Nahar was on their side. He'd already seen them as close as they were now and never had a problem with it. Why was Lorne stressing out over this?
Lorne didn't really answer. "Let's go inside. Remember, we're not supposed to do this where people can see, we come from a very closed off society," Lorne said, a mere ghost of breath against John's cheek and then he was gone, taking John's hand and lacing their fingers together.
It was only after they were back in the room that John understood what Lorne had meant and why he was so uncomfortable with the party coming their way. He stopped and stared at the jar of lubrication Lorne placed in a very visible spot on the nightstand, shocked.
"No," he said, tone final. This was the point of no return. If they'd do it, there would be nothing more to salvage from his and Lorne's developing friendship. He had no doubt that Lorne knew what he was suggesting, but John still refused to do it to him, refused to be at the delivering end of such an experience. Lorne could get hurt physically and was bound to be hurt emotionally. John was unwilling to see him flinch whenever John walked into the room.
Lorne approached him, face catching the last light from the sunset. "We're not going to really do it, John," he said soothingly, once more so close to John that his breath was hitting John's skin in warm waves. "We'll stay in our boxers and put a pillow between us. They won't know."
Their unwelcome guests. John had forgotten all about them just from the shock he got from Lorne's offer. Which was another reason not to do this.
"It will never look real," John tried to explain, hands crushing Lorne to him to stop Lorne from caressing his back and face like he had started doing.
"Yes it will. Just imagine I'm some sultry blonde with really big tits, I won't mind," Lorne whispered in his ear and John yanked him away, flinching almost as if he had just been smacked by Lorne across the face.
His skin, which started getting sensitive and warm under Lorne's brief exploration suddenly felt clammy. The idea of a sultry blonde with really big tits was such a huge turn-off that John's face must've been showing his disdain.
Lorne misinterpreted his expression. "We have no choice, John. This is the test we have to go through. Either we do something now or we pack our things and leave!" he hissed at John warningly.
John didn't need the explanation, he already knew. Such a large company didn't gather simply to have tea in the garden. They came to check that John and Lorne were telling the truth, that they really were a homosexual couple in love with each other. And normal, in love, homosexual couples were bound to have sex, or any sort of intimate touch, while alone together with no immediate dangers supposedly threatening them.
Lorne was also right when he offered John this compromise. No one would know that they weren't completely naked under the blankets, or not in direct contact with each other.
John remembered the previous night, the warmth of Lorne's body and the coarse feel of his chest hair. He remembered the curve of his ass from all those times he had held Lorne and the faint scent of his aftershave from a moment ago. He was developing a kind of sweet ache in his belly, pangs of desire coursing from it through his body, and it scared him. He was into women and it scared him how much he wanted Lorne to be right about their ability to do it.
But John was never one to shy away from fear.
John closed his eyes, and when he opened them again there was Lorne in front of him, smiling a little in offering. He was offering himself to John, and John wanted nothing more at that moment than to take him up on his offer.
"What do I do?" he asked Lorne quietly, well aware that the window to their left was wide open and that they most likely had an audience.
Lorne smiled at him, that brilliant smile that illuminated the entire room. He approached John and placed his hands on the hem of his shirt. "Let's get undressed first," Lorne said, still smiling at him. But John didn't need to look too deeply to see how tense Lorne was, or how alert, as if afraid that John would violently push him away.
John put his hands on the hem of Lorne's shirt and made the first move. Burying his head in Lorne's neck, John allowed his hand to travel up Lorne's torso, dragging the shirt up as well and feeling the swells of pectoral and abdominal muscles and his sparse chest hair. Under his ministration, Lorne shivered and brought his hands up from John's shirt to clutch at his shoulders, head dropping backwards.
"What are the rules?" John barely remembered to ask. This was not an intimate intercourse, but an elaborate show. There were some lines they couldn't cross.
"No kisses on the mouth," Lorne replied in his ear, short of breath.
The sound of Lorne short of breath simply because John caressed him made everything else clouded and unimportant. John felt the throb of arousal stirring his cock as he deftly got Lorne out of his shirt so that his hands could explore more of that warm skin, feel the tension in the back and the dip and narrowness of the waist.
Lorne looked at John, startled as he found himself so fast without a shirt, but John merely took a step back and took off his own shirt as well, allowing the cool night air to chill him a little and Lorne to see him. But Lorne averted his eyes, so John inspected him instead.
The coldness made Lorne's nipples peak out and his skin rise in goose bumps. And there was nothing more John wanted than to taste that flesh and discover the feel of those nipples between his teeth.
John quickly stepped out of his boots and took off his pants. Lorne was done only with his boots by the time John was ready and John quickly stepped to his side, circling his hips with one hand and reaching out for the button fly of Lorne's pants with the other-
-only to be stopped by Lorne's hand. Lorne's eyes flashed him a warning look that had John stepping back, and before he knew it Lorne was in bed and raising the sheet in an invitation.
John took a deep breath, cursing silently. He wondered whether he really should get into the bed with Lorne, especially since everything they had just talked about, about how this was only for the sake of their audience and about the lines that couldn't be crossed, had slipped his mind already in favor of arousal.
Lorne got up, his eyes intense. He walked up to John but instead of telling John anything, he wrapped his arms around John's waist and dropped a kiss to John's shoulder, bringing into contact warm, naked skin.
John couldn't think. Was unable to while his hands rose up to roam over Lorne's body once more as if Lorne hadn't pushed him away seconds before, face burying in Lorne's hair and breathing him in. Lorne was backing up and John followed, unaware that they were tumbling down onto the bed until his hips came to rest against a pillow instead of against Lorne's warm pelvis. It was also then that Lorne threw out a pair of boxers he must have prepared in advance, to fool their audience into thinking that they were naked under the blankets.
But John didn't care. His mouth was already trailing kisses from Lorne's ear to his collarbone, tongue coming out to lick and taste skin and the sudden sheen of perspiration that covered Lorne's body.
Lorne tasted like musk and salt and masculinity, and John found that he couldn't let go. He trailed his tongue down to Lorne's nipples, strangely flat over hard muscle but still erect and begging for attention, and closed on one of the little nubs. He sucked, feeling the nipple erecting even more and Lorne arching against him, bringing more of himself into contact with John and combing his fingers through John's hair, demanding more and tugging him towards his other nipple.
John reveled in the body beneath him, despite it being flat and bony rather than round and full. He had already thought of an advantage to this new anatomy he was pleasuring, dragging his stubbled cheek down Lorne's chest, and was rewarded with a hiss and an arch, causing Lorne to try and crush them together using his hands and feet. John twined their legs together, tugging on Lorne's left leg to rise up and wrap around his knees and was thrilled when Lorne eagerly obliged and brought them closer together. John smiled, his mouth marking wet trails on Lorne's neck, tongue licking up and down Lorne's throat while his hands caressed every patch of warm skin he could get to.
There was an urgency in John he didn't understand, couldn't even fathom in his current state of lust, but he wanted to be everywhere at once, do everything now, get to know the body underneath him as intimately as possible and pleasure it as thoroughly as he could. He didn't comprehend it, but he worked methodically on every inch of Lorne's chest, kissing and licking, nipping with teeth and tweaking with fingers, until he got Lorne to moan and tug and arch in response.
And Lorne did respond to him. He was breathing raggedly, hands around John's back and on his nape, tugging him down for more or pulling him away, indicating how he wanted John to pleasure him and where, where he was more sensitive and where he was not. John worked hard to get him to moan or gasp, as he did if John touched him the right way, bit at the right place or licked the right spot. John could tell that Lorne tried to keep his pleasure in. It annoyed him when Lorne managed to do it, and thrilled him when Lorne broke and cried out.
John's hips were slowly humping the pillow, creating a shallow dent that he slammed into again and again, but it frustrated him that he couldn't feel Lorne as well. He wanted to feel Lorne, wanted to feel him thrusting against John, throbbing with him and moving with him, wanted skin to skin all the way.
So John's hand left Lorne's right nipple and slide down, tugging on the waistband of Lorne's boxers while his head rose up to try and capture Lorne's lips.
He wanted everything.
"No!" Lorne whispered sharply, turning his head away and stopping John's wandering hand with his own. He pushed John a little up and away, causing chilly air to hit both their chests where there was before only the warmth of their bodies, and John could feel him shivering.
John looked down at Lorne, frowning and mildly irritated. Why was Lorne resisting? It was obvious that he was turned on as well, obvious that he wanted it as well, so why did he stop?
Lorne didn't give him time to think. He rose and kissed John's neck, sucking lightly under John's ear, and John promptly forgot his annoyance. Lorne's talented lips kissed up his neck, and Lorne's teeth bit his earlobe and John gasped.
And then Lorne's tongue was circling his earlobe and Lorne's hands were combing through the hair on John's chest and pinching his nipples, and John thought he might come from that alone. His entire body was throbbing in time with his cock and all he wanted to do was have Lorne's hand on him and thrust into it.
John's hands brought Lorne close, his knees drawing up to straddle Lorne and allow him access to John's body. John wanted to feel Lorne reciprocating, wanted Lorne to get the same rush of pleasure from John that John did from Lorne, and was willing to do anything to feel Lorne like that.
Lorne wasted no time, didn't linger like John did, but went straight for John's nipple and bit it hard, causing John to see stars behind his closed eyelids. "More!" John ordered hoarsely, almost growling, tugging Lorne's head closer to his chest for what he asked for, gasping and heaving short breaths with the intensity of his arousal.
But Lorne stopped and simply hugged John close. John struggled a little, panting and trying to get himself free, to get himself once more in contact with Lorne's skin, but Lorne's arms were strong. For a moment all they could do was stay close together, warm chests heaving against each other with barely enough room because John was holding Lorne just as close as Lorne was holding him.
"Calm down," Lorne murmured in his ear, a strong hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder while he made shushing noises. "It's over. They have nothing to hold against us anymore. That was enough," he whispered harshly against John's ear, but it took a moment for the words to register. They? Hold against? Enough? It wasn't enough, not nearly!
"Please, sir," Lorne begged him desperately when John turned his head and tried once more to capture his lips, and John froze in horror. The hazy cloud of passion dissipated and John was able to think once again like himself. Like the commander that he was, who was kissing and licking every inch of his XO's chest.
John jerked back, horrified, and wished that the room was less dark. He wanted, needed, to see Lorne's face right then. To know that he didn't hurt him. That there was no irreparable damage done.
"I'm…" John's voice was husky and low, but he needed to get his apology through. He panicked, not really believing that he had allowed himself to get this carried away, or to forget that there was a potential threat just outside their window. "I'm-"
"It's okay," Lorne cut him off, a mere whisper. There was a rustle of fabric and then Lorne rose up. "I'm going to get cleaned up," he declared a little more loudly and almost fled the room, leaving John alone in the dark.
John allowed himself to fall back onto the mattress, his stomach in knots and the bitter taste of unfulfilled passion filling his mouth. His erection had died away when the realization of what he had allowed himself to do sank in.
He got carried away. Wildly carried away. There were no words to apologize for what he had forced Lorne to do. The room was dark, they could have only pretended to move, fake voices, anything. They didn't need to get really physical with each other, even if it was Lorne who started it.
John sighed, and unbidden Lorne's scent invaded his nose. It was tempting to slowly jerk himself off, lying in bed and breathing that scent in deep, but it was cold, they had enemies under their windowsill and John had just crossed a big red line.
Angry, John got up from the bed both to escape the scent and to close the window and end this sorry escapade. The panic has finally receded and he was able to function without wanting to scream at his own actions.
Let them think whatever they wanted about this. Lorne was right to stop him when he did. John knew with an alarming certainty that he would never have stopped when Lorne had asked him to the first time. Eventually he would have taken all of Lorne, and he shuddered at the thought.
John returned to bed and grimaced when the wet patch on the front of his boxers came into contact with his still oversensitive cock. He had definitely felt it for real, definitely got excited by Lorne's touch, and it was disturbing. John quickly changed his boxers and put on a shirt, padding over to the bed to escape the coldness of the floor.
The most disturbing thing of all was that, given the chance, John would have done it again. His mouth craved to trail all over Lorne's body and his hands itched to close around warm flesh even now, in the temporary solitude of the dark room. And those desires overrode for a moment the strangeness in this whole attraction thing John had developed for Lorne.
John settled in bed and pulled the blanket up, but when he made to lie down something got in the way. John fished it out and saw the pillow that had separated them. It was still rumpled from John's humping, and John could see a distinct wet spot on it. He grimaced, deciding to throw the pillow under the bed as there was no hiding the fact that he was aroused by Lorne, but there was also no need to show Lorne proof. Grabbing it, John felt something strange.
There was a wet spot on both sides of the pillow.
Lorne's side also had a sizable wet spot, and John brought it to his nose in morbid fascination. It smelled musky and definitely like pre-come.
Lorne was aroused as well.
With more force than he should have, John flung the pillow under the bed just when Lorne returned and without a word slid into bed next to him.
John didn't wrap his arm around Lorne, a sour taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with his unfulfilled lust or shame. He lay on the bed, body rigid and tense just like Lorne's, and wondered whether any body would suffice.
Whether any body, any mouth and any pair of hands would be enough for Lorne.
And the thought that anyone would caused John's heart to sink and for a slow burning sensation to spread in his chest. He knew that he would be unable to fall asleep.
John dreaded the morning after. He hadn't slept a wink that night and neither did Lorne. They both simply laid in bed, Lorne's back to John, both tense and unspeaking. It was the worst night in John's life because beyond the tense atmosphere, John couldn't stop resenting the thought that anyone would be enough to pleasure Lorne. That anyone could drag out of him the reactions that John did. He was being eaten alive by his own jealousy.
He wasn't a possessive man, and he wasn't naïve. He knew very well that he wasn't the best lover in the history of love, even if he wasn't bad, and knew that Lorne wasn't a virgin. Not according to his behavior in bed. And while John was bitter over Nancy being with that lawyer (or judge or whatever he was) it wasn't bitterness because someone was sleeping with his ex-wife but over their uncomfortable divorce, mismatched marriage and the fight that ensued between John and his family after it. Yet somehow he still couldn't get past the fact that it could have been Sote, for all the difference it made to Lorne, and the thought made him furious.
They got out of bed in silence at the crack of dawn, when there was no more reason to stay there, and this time it was John who commandeered the shower and took his time standing under the jutting hot spray trying to ease the heaviness in his stomach. It didn't help much, and eventually John gave it up.
Lorne was done very quickly after John release the shower, and was already dressed in fresh BDUs when he entered their shared room. A sleepy maid who saw John earlier when he made his way back to the room had hurried away to prepare something to eat and brought it in, but John found that he was munching whatever it was without much appetite by the time Lorne returned.
Lorne placed his shaving kit back into his bag, his movements measured and slow. John watched him from the corner of his eye all morning but couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary except for the tightness around Lorne's mouth that indicated clenched teeth. Lorne's eyes were neutral and his face a stony mask.
That didn't change even when Lorne finally turned to John. "If what happened during the night bothered you, don't," he said quietly. John expected some accusations, some uneasiness, but there was none. Only neutrality. "Whoever it was you imagined I was, you'd better stick with that. It'll prevent further embarrassment," Lorne added.
John smiled bitterly. That was exactly it. He wasn't depressed about his embarrassment over what they had done, but by the thought that anyone would suffice for Lorne. And he hadn't imagined anyone else but the person standing in front of him.
"At any rate, I was invited by Nahar to see his private collection today, and after the debate he promised to take me to the outer edges of the city where they have a beautiful river that runs fast with melting snow from the mountains. We'll be painting for most of the day," Lorne informed him, more of a report than anything else. Completely professional. Completely detached.
Anyone would suffice.
John clamped down on that thought. "Okay," John managed to force out despite the growing awkwardness. "Have fun."
Lorne nodded his head once, a gesture that was as good as a salute, and left the room.
John leaned forward on his chair and dropped his head into his hands, his half-eaten breakfast forgotten. It wasn't entirely true that Lorne didn't feel anything. John knew him well enough by now to know that he used formality to hide his true feelings from other people in the military. He wondered what he was hiding, and couldn't shake the feeling that Lorne was simply trying to inject some normality into the situation by doing this, for John's sake. He always did take that whole pretence thing better than John did. He was the one who suggested that they do it. He was the one who kissed John first. He had no problem with it.
Anyone would-
John got up and slammed his fist into the wall. The sharp pain that erupted from his knuckles was enough to stop him from thinking again, but only temporarily.
He was in deep trouble, he knew. He had never felt such bitterness in his life. He had never planned on doing what he did with Lorne. He was Lorne's commanding officer, damnit! He should never have allowed himself to get carried away.
That aside, John wasn't gay. He was straight. After a drunken night of curious and clumsy explorations, the idea of homosexuality didn't hold much interest to him. He never checked out guys in the locker room, no more than any other guy, never anything other than secretly comparing sizes, lengths and fitness which all young healthy males did. He liked breasts, soft and pliant bodies. He knew them and he loved them, loved the connection and the rush he felt whenever he had sex with a woman.
But he also couldn't get enough of Lorne last night. He wanted to fuck Lorne, wanted to explore Lorne's mouth, wanted a lot more than what he was offered. The rush he got from Lorne's body, which was all hard muscles, resistance and sharp angels, was beyond anything he had ever experienced before.
During the time they had spent together on Olam, John found himself interested in Lorne as a person. He liked spending time with him and felt that they were developing a sort of bond that could only make working together a lot more pleasant. But when had that transformed into Lorne kissing John and John losing his head? He liked spending time with Ronon and Rodney too, but if either of them ever tried to kiss him he'd punch them with everything he had.
Why was Lorne different?
John knew the answer to that. It was the same thing that had made him stop thinking clearly when Lorne offered himself, and the same thing that made his blood boil when he thought that to Lorne anyone would be good enough.
It was wrong and John refused to accept it. It was wrong on the level that John was Lorne's commanding officer and he couldn't afford to lust after him. It was wrong because if they'd ever be discovered John would lose the only place he had ever wanted to call home. It was wrong because at any minute either of their lives could be lost.
None of that stopped the arousal from spiking low in his belly when he looked at the bed and remembered the way Lorne looked all tousled and panting for breath because of him.
And then it was wrong because Lorne didn't return the sentiment. He probably thought of Carter or whoever his unrequited love really was. At that thought John felt his anger rising so fast and his resentment for Carter, who he had really liked himself, building so rapidly that he was astounded.
He was in really, really big trouble.
Lorne looked no different than any other day. There wasn't a trace of uneasiness about him, not a single shred of tension in his posture when they met each other again just before the start of the debate. It looked like whatever Lorne's issues were that morning, he had worked them out.
It was like salt in John's wounds. The same thought that had occupied his mind since before they went to sleep last night returned with a vengeance. There was nothing out of the ordinary with Lorne, nothing to indicate that whatever they did meant something. John knew he should be happy because it meant that they might just manage to salvage their working relationship, but instead all he could think of was 'anyone's fine'.
John tortured himself all morning with those thoughts, and even conversations with his team, sparring with Ronon, fighting with Rodney and touring Olam couldn't distract him. By the time his team had arrived John had already started going in circles.
Teyla couldn't get out of him what happened, so instead she took him with her on a tour she had arranged with the minister of education, a very fat person named Sefer. If didn't really help, but it did make the day go by much faster.
After the tour Zamsh caught up with him and invited all of John's team to a state dinner. It was a sort of truce where every minister, observer and candidate attended and politics were forbidden, and apparently Lorne and he were the guests of honor. It sounded like a very forced and awkward gathering but Zamsh had explained that the celebration was held in honor of Union Day, the day when all independent cities of Olam decided to come together under a central regime and enter an era of enlightenment. There would be entertainment and good food, Zamsh had promised, and John figured that anything that might distract him at night would be good. He was asked to arrive at the precise time and even make a speech, but John figured that he'd leave that part for Teyla or even Keller to worry about.
By the time the debate finally arrived John had already made up his mind about him and Lorne. He needed to talk to Lorne. He'd tell Lorne some lie in the effort of preserving what little remained of their working relationship if not friendship. Lorne was professional enough to ignore anything that might be awkward, and he had already made a career out of avoiding John entirely. It angered John that this was how it must end, but he cared about Atlantis more than he cared about himself. They needed to be alright with each other on at least some basic level in order to function properly.
That was the plan.
He didn't want to do it. didn't want to push Lorne away again, but was unwilling to turn him into a scapegoat. He would deal with his own emotions, somehow, sometime. He was never good at it, but he'd deal with it, or bury it and ignore it the best he could. And it was better that Lorne wasn't around when that happened. It'd only make things more difficult.
But now, now that Lorne looked much more like himself, like nothing had ever happened, John felt even worse. The fact that his half assed lie wouldn't be necessary only served to strengthen the conclusion that John was no different than any other fuck-buddy Lorne had ever had.
And despite all the reasons for why he should be happy that this was the situation, despite all the reasons why he shouldn't want Lorne to feel anything about what they had done last night, John was bitter. He shouldn't, but he wanted it to mean something to Lorne too.
Without a word, John went over and took his usual place next to Lorne on the central podium while the rest of the crowd continued filing into the amphitheater for the upcoming daily debate.
Noman was in his usual place up at the seats. He cast worried looks at John and Lorne, and John sent him a resentful glance back. Noman hadn't made any effort to talk to them, and especially didn't apologize for spying on them that night. John thought that the least Noman could do was tell them whether Shedim was finally convinced, and prepare them for what was about to come today. But Noman averted his eyes when John finally managed to make eye contact and John clenched his jaw. He wanted this to be over with already, and couldn't see how he was going to pull another whole week of pretense.
Shedim entered the amphitheater, face almost livid with anger. John, despite his moodiness, managed to feel some satisfaction that Shedim was at an obvious disadvantage and knew it. But John also knew that any information obtained by using spying could not be used during the debate, and that cornered people could be dangerous because they had nothing to lose.
Once everyone took their seats, John watched with apprehension as Shedim rose up in his seat and faced them.
"Major Lorne, what is the percentage of male couples on your world?" Shedim said without preamble, voice sharp and eyes dark with anger.
Lorne looked confused for a moment. "What?"
"The percentage, Major. The number of people out of the general population that engage in sexual activities with people of the same sex," Shedim asked impatiently.
"I don't know," Lorne said. "I imagine that it's about less than ten percent," he added uncertainly.
"You do not have an exact number?"
"No, such data was never relevant to the public in our world," Lorne said, which John knew was true. He himself has never heard of an exact number of homosexuals worldwide either.
"If your world is as advanced as you claim, there must be some special counseling services for male couples such as you. Surely you can deduce from that alone the number?" Sheidm insisted, but there was no teasing in his voice, no victory.
"Yes, there are. John and I never had any need of them so we wouldn't know. We never investigated the issue," Lorne replied, reluctant to give Shedim what he wanted.
"What about adoption centers? You told us yourselves in a previous debate that the male couples of your world are allowed to adopt children who were not of their flesh and blood, yet our mental health councilors claim that some of the reasons a person would regress to such perversions are environmental. Surely there are special adoption centers that deal with such cases," Shedim prowled on.
"Our psychologists are qualified to handle every case, no matter the gender of the couple in question," Lorne answered carefully.
"What is the average age in which an Earth boy discovers his abnormal nature?"
"I don't know. I first discovered my homosexuality at sixteen."
"What about the average age of marriage?"
"Probably mid-twenties."
"At which age do you educate your children in regards of the mechanisms of male sex?"
"Every parent decides that individually," Lorne shot back, more tense now than at the beginning of the conversation. John was wary of the sudden interrogation as well, but decided to bear with it for the time being.
"What is the percentage of male couples who have children in your world?" Shedim's voice became more demanding with every question he fired, and his speech quickened. He seemed impatient for an answer the more Lorne delayed in giving it.
"I don't know, but I imagine-"
"How many children does an average male couple have?"
"I don't know, but probably-"
"How many of them serve in your military?"
"We don't have an exact number, b-"
"How many of those attracted to their own sex serve in other key position on your world?"
"Many, I don't know the exact number-"
"What is the percentage of disorders amongst those who share this perversion of same sex attraction?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure that it's just the same as the rest of the population!" Lorne said through clenched teeth, launching out of his chair, and John winced. If Shedim's goal was to upset Lorne, he was doing outstandingly well.
They were not prepared for such questions. They could have lied but Woolsey said, wisely, that they shouldn't lie about things that weren't connected to their personal lives unless there was no other course of action. And while this case definitely merited lying, Lorne was never given the chance. Shedim seemed too keen on firing questions before Lorne could explain his answers properly.
Shedim stopped and allowed silence to envelope the amphitheater. John could see Noman, up in the stands with his head buried in his hands. Beside him Teyla and Ronon looked so tense that any sound would probably make them jump and start shooting off randomly at anything that moved. Next to John, Lorne was breathing somewhat raggedly, eyes blazing with anger and resentment.
Shedim smiled a brief smile, but it still had no victory in it. He looked like he was on a personal crusade.
"'Probably', 'I imagine', 'I don't have', 'I don't know'," Shedim slowly repeated the words into the silence. "And you expect us to believe you," he added snidely, almost accusingly, to Lorne.
"You're asking me questions I don't have the answers to here and now! If you'd let us go back to our city we can bring you all the information that you need!" Lorne called back indignantly.
"Oh, I want you to go back to your city. And stay there," Shedim answered. Lorne's expression darkened.
"Look, what the hell is your problem? Why don't you get it out in the open and we'll deal with it!" he challenged. John knew that Lorne only did it because he was sure that Shedim had a problem with what he saw last night.
"My problem? My problem is the abomination that you and your Colonel represent, Major!"
"No, you don't have a problem with homosexuality. You have a problem with John and me," Lorne countered, taking a few steps forward towards the stands. John hurried after him and placed a hand on his arm to stop him from moving forward and breaking the rules of the debate. It was forbidden for anyone who was speaking during the debate to step off of the central podium. Lorne allowed John stop him, but never once turned back. "What is your problem with us?" he demanded hotly.
"My problem is that you are the first aliens we've ever encountered and we're supposed to trust you and ally ourselves with you based solely on your word and quite frankly, I think you're lying to secure my undeserving opponent his victory in these elections!" Shedim called back.
"You think we're lying?" Lorne asked incredulously. "After everything we said and everything you saw you still think we're lying!"
"I saw nothing to convince me otherwise," Shedim replied harshly. John looked between Lorne and Shedim. Whether Shedim was denying what he saw last night or simply didn't believe it was hard to tell. And then there was Lorne.
Lorne was angry. John had thought that Lorne had managed to get over his reactions to Shedim's provocations but today it seemed like Shedim's arrows went straight for the bull's-eye. That question about diseases brought back the unpleasant association between homosexuality and AIDS, John knew. Shedim didn't know that, of course. He would probably never understand what a condom was and how not using it caused the spread of the disease, but if he did he'd probably jump at it.
John had a nasty feeling that Lorne's agitation was connected with what they had done last night. Maybe he had been mistaken, maybe Lorne wasn't quite so calm about it. Not that John could blame him, his commanding officer had molested him thoroughly. Even John was agitated about it.
Lorne gave a small laugh suddenly, a laugh that if John wasn't standing as close to him as he was he never would have picked up. When John turned to look at him, there was deep regret in his eyes and an unusual paleness to his skin. He looked like he had just lost something important to him, but John couldn't figure out what it was. John stepped closer, wanting – needing – to make that expression go away even without knowing how, when Lorne suddenly spoke.
"Let's settle this once and for all," Lorne said quietly into the tense silence that surrounded them after Shedim's last words. His voice was strangely hoarse, and suddenly John changed his opinion. Lorne didn't look like someone who had just lost something, but like someone who had nothing more to lose.
"Let's settle this once and for all!" he called louder, and turned around to face John. Before John could even understand what was happening, Lorne closed the gap between them and kissed John on the lips.
The kiss wasn't aggressive like John was half expecting. Lorne was aggravated and John expected it to translate into their kiss, but instead Lorne's lips were gently caressing John's and his tongue was sweeping lightly over John's mouth. Lorne's hands, which settled on either side of John's face to prevent him from turning his head away, gently stroked his cheeks and neck. His eyes were closed and his brows drawn together, but his kiss was infinitely tender and sweet.
Realization dawned on John suddenly. Lorne wasn't doing it to prove anything to anyone. He was kissing John like he wanted to memorize him, hurriedly trying to cover as much of him as he could before he'd be pushed away. He was trembling slightly against John's body and tears were coming down from under his closed eyelids.
Lorne loved him. Lorne kissed him not only to prove his point, but because he thought that it would be the first and last time he would ever have such an opportunity. He didn't touch John last night simply for their audience's sake. And most importantly, he wouldn't have responded the way he did last night to anyone other than John.
That last thought woke John from his stupor with a thrill. Not anyone was enough. Only John.
John held Lorne –Evan – in place just when he was about to pull away. He sneaked his hand around Evan's back and onto his nape and prevented him from moving aside. Then, once he had Evan in place, John kissed back with confidence and relief that left him nearly powerless.
Evan made a surprised sound at the back of his throat but John's hand rose from his back to caress his cheek, silencing him. His lips coaxed Evan's open and he thrust inside, instantly drunk with Evan's heady taste. Evan was a little sour and definitely masculine, the taste of him driving John to kiss him deeper, devouring him.
Evan was still trying to fight him, his hands on John's hips subtly yet insistently pushing him back, but when John bit his lower lip gently in warning his resistance melted away and his body melted into John's, hands going around John's back and lips kissing back with plenty of enthusiasm.
Oh god, it felt so good. Evan's warm and wide body flush against John's, his hands on John's back and in his hair, and Evan's tongue fighting with him to dominate the kiss. John was in his own private heaven. The sensations that coursed through his body were even better than the night before, his arousal so much stronger with Evan fighting him and mashing their mouths and tongues together.
John felt perspiration breaking on his skin. Evan was a good kisser and all John wanted to do was find the closest available horizontal surface and taste every part of Evan's body. He broke away from the kiss and instantly dived for Evan's neck, latching onto his pulse point and sucking while Evan's hands clenched in his hair and brought him closer. Evan moaned and angled his neck to offer him better access, and John happily cupped his cheek and arranged him to his satisfaction, nipping and licking the skin under his lips and relishing the rasp of Evan's five o'clock shadow under his lips.
A sudden, shrill bell caused John to stop what he was doing. He suddenly remembered that they were at the amphitheater and that they had an audience, and was amazed that he had yet again lost himself in Evan. When he looked up he could see one of the neutral observers holding a bell in his hands and looking absolutely scandalized. Shedim sat in his seat, looking amazed and defeated and Noman looked pale and miserable. John's team was staring down at them in complete shock.
John turned to Evan and saw Evan blanching. He looked back at John with horror in his eyes while a red and angry mark was blooming on his throat. When the sound that signaled the end of the debate was heard a second later, he pushed past John and fled the room, disappearing into the crowd of people piling out.