Title: “How did you get that Scar on Your Ass?”
Prompt: written for slashing_lorne Oct 11 - Single word prompt: injury
Word Count: 618
Summary: A little pillow talk between lovers
John leaned up in bed, propping himself on one elbow and frowning down at Evan who was stretched out on his stomach beside him.
“Wait-a-minute. Are you saying that “Mr-Career-By-The-Book-and-Regulation’ is only in the Air Force because you needed someone to pay for college?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Evan countered.
“Nothing. I just always figured you for one of those knew-I-wanted-to-be-an-officer-from-the-d
“My Dad? In the military? Never happen. Doesn’t pay enough.” Evan turned his head, propping it on his arm.
“What’s he do?” John asked, running a hand down Evan’s side, finding that ticklish spot just under his ribs.
“CEO of an advertising firm.” Evan squirmed away.
“So, you were on an athletic scholarship and you lost it.”
“Yep. Baseball. Got drunk after winning State my freshman year, got laid, tried to drive home and totaled the shiny new car he gave me for getting the scholarship in the first place.”
“This is not a story I ever pictured hearing out of you,” Sheppard mused, “but go on.”
“Not much to tell after that. I lost the scholarship for violating the terms, Dad took the car, and we haven't spoken since.”
“And refused to pay for college? Just because you blew your scholarship and totaled a car? Come on, everybody makes mistakes.”
Evan couldn’t tell if John was being facetious or not, but he remained silent, looking sheepishly at the wall.
“There’s more?” John snorted in astonishment. “’Cause that would’ve been enough for my old man to kick me out of the house for good.”
“He was pissed about the scholarship. But that wasn’t why he kicked me out,” Lorne confessed.
“He actually drove up to visit me in the hospital with a new car – a Ford Mustang Ragtop. He walked in the hospital room with the keys dangling off his finger.”
“And – “
“And I was getting a blow job. From the third baseman.”
“Guess that was when he cut you off then, huh?”
“Yeah, right about then. Never said another word to me. A few days later an Air Force ROTC recruiter stopped by, said he’d heard I lost my ride and that I was planning on leaving after the semester and wanted to talk about going Air Force. I had a 3.8 GPA and they offered to pay for everything, travel during the summer breaks, six years to pay it all back and I could keep my major. Sounded like a good deal to me.”
“How’d you get into the Stargate program?”
“I got a cousin who works out at Area 51, used to work for NASA developing thrust systems for the shuttle. She was on the Prometheus project and put in a good word for me. The rest is history.”
“So that’s really where you got that scar on your ass?”
“Yep. Drunk as the worm at the bottom of the bottle, climbing out of the car after I rolled it three times. Tore my ass open on a piece of metal on the driver’s side window and got four stitches.”
Evan craned his head back to check out his own ass.
“It isn’t even that bad. You can hardly see it anymore!” he protested.
John leaned down and bit the skin above the tiny, silvery line, going back to soothe it with long licks of his tongue that soon found their way toward the crack of Evan’s ass.
“I want to hear more,” he said, flicking his tongue across Evan’s hole.
“About the accident?” Evan asked on a sharp intake of breath as John’s tongue pushed inside him.
“About the third baseman,” John replied, quickly returning to his task.