Bodyguarding
Author: wanderingsmith
Started date dec 2008
Summary: READ the AN first! - Atlantis is
in critical shape and Ronon must participate where
he would rather not
Rating: NC17
Warning: 3some smut (It's Shep/Weir centric,
but with Ronon involved in the sex) Disclaimer:
I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said;
you make the toys, I play with 'em..
AN: It is someone's birthday Dec 7. this
was going to be a giftfic.. but then it completely
ran away!! (13k words???) So let's call Chapter 2
the giftfic part and the rest is just my baggage.
Anyway, I know its not the mounty, comanche..
hope you like anyway, luv :) Happy birthday, and I
hope December is nicer to you than November was!!
lol, I did listen to Paul Gross singing during
writing.. poor lad would shudder at what it stood
for at this moment... (VEG)
Many thanks to anuna_81
and draco_somnians
for their encouragement and betaing!
Goto Chapter 2
Goto Chapter 3
-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-
WARNING
-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-
Chapter
one
"We have NO choice!!" Elizabeth's voice rang off the
conference room walls.
The rest of SGA1 sat tensely as they watched the leaders
of Atlantis glare at each other, standing toe to toe,
bodies tensed in touchless combat. The dark circles
under their eyes spoke of too long scrambling
desperately to survive; again.
Neither the Daedalus had been seen nor the SGC heard
from for two months. An unfortunately timed overload had
destroyed their ZPM and freak hurricanes had pounded the
Athosian settlement, resulting in the residents fleeing
to Atlantis to survive after the destruction of their
crops and hunting grounds.
More hurricanes continued to threaten to come at the
city every week since, and the city's food supply was
getting very scarce; their allies all seemed to be
either having bad crops or getting decimated by the
Wraith. No one was foolish enough to say that at least
the Wraith were leaving Atlantis alone, but it was in
the air, thicker even, than the hunger; and the worry
about what could have happened to Earth. Eyes were dark,
belts tight and cheeks sunken.
And now to finally find allies willing to trade...
"Captain Neil said outright that that planet is a
criminal hotbed with cutthroats at every corner!! There
is NO WAY IN FUCKING **HELL** that you are setting foot
there! You *can't* ask me to put you in danger like
that!"
Teyla winced at John's shout, hearing the terror under
the fury, yet knowing that it was both the wrong thing
to say to Elizabeth, and that it was a waste of breath.
She wondered if she and Ronon would have to intervene to
keep their friends from going too far; from saying words
that could not be taken back. She was glad to see
Elizabeth stop before responding, taking a breath and
tightening her jaw.
"John-" Elizabeth's voice was still a little too loud
and she closed her eyes, forcing another breath through
constricted muscles. For just an instant, she caught
John's scent under the unwashed sweat they all reeked of
-how much longer would the water systems be offline? She
had to ask Zelenka-. She almost collapsed in the sudden
anguish she felt. She was so tired, with the terror that
the Wraith could appear at any moment, with Atlantis'
shield utterly impossible to raise, with the hunger that
left a nagging headache and threatened the survival of
the weaker members of the Athosian community. So tired
of scrambling for resources that just weren't there,
watching the worry and suffering that people tried to
hide under brave faces.
She forced her eyes open as she 'felt' the man standing
just a few inches away from her settle back on his
heels; felt the aggression he'd exuded suddenly revert
to the worry she was more used to.
She could see the entreaty in his eyes. It shouldn't
squeeze her heart to see that desperate wish for reality
to change; it should annoy her for being childish. But
it took a great deal for John to really annoy her; and
anything stemming from his need to protect her made her
want to hug him long before she thought of a reprimand.
Except that *she* so wanted to be held right now.. she
stiffened herself to resist the need to fold; gripping
her self-control with her fingernails, "John, they have
a power source *and* food," she took a tight breath,
watching John's shoulders hunch as he glared at his
feet, "They're willing to trade. All we have to do..."
Now her voice died away, her strength abandoning her
before she could get it out. John's eyes lifted,
exhausted and tormented; no, she couldn't deny that that
was very much a variety of torment.
"Is send our leader."
Elizabeth's eyes slid to Ronon, seeing sympathy but also
the realistic, firm strength of a survivor.
"And you're going to have to sleep with any guard who
accompanies you." She turned back to John as he spoke
harshly, only to see him also staring at the obvious
warrior in their midst. Yes, her ever-watchful second in
command didn't need to say any more out loud; the
logical guards to accompany her on such a dangerous
mission would be John, because his protectiveness
wouldn't allow anything else, and Ronon for muscle
backup.
The shameful, hungry shiver that had zapped through her
when the captain had explained the cultural rules her
team had had to follow to get through the political maze
of Roklyx had been directly related to the dark-rimmed
hazel eyes that had flown to hers across the meeting
table at the time.
Now, standing even closer to John, and with yet another
handsome man in a conversation about sex... Damn,
Elizabeth bit back a snarl, she had no time for this
nonsense, no matter how long it had been since she'd had
anything more than fantasies to keep her warm or
distract her from the snack-sized supper. And brunch.
Her people -*their* people!- were hungry and in danger
damn it; concentrate Elizabeth!
####
John had a white-knuckled grip on his P-90, eyes trying
to look everywhere at once in the all-too-busy market,
terminally aware of the need to protect Elizabeth,
walking a few inches behind him with her own P90 in hand
and Ronon stalking along right at her back.
The moment they'd come in sight of the town, the ghostly
war within him had gone on an utterly silent holiday.
There was no attention to be spared on worrying if they
would fail at these negotiating and die, or be escorted
to *one* bedchamber as 'honoured' guests -complete with
cameras and actually *spelled out* rules that guards
'performed' or were unworthy and therefore killed-. None
of that would matter if they were killed in this damned
murderer's haven before they even reached the palace.
Ronon tried not to remember the last time he'd been on
this planet. Without an 'owner', he'd gotten to see the
inside of their jails and had no wish for a second
viewing. Nor to re-encounter the 'police' of this place.
Which meant sticking close to Dr. Weir. *How* close he
was going to have to get was something else again. She
was a lovely woman whom he happened to admire, but the
Satedan way was 'one man for one woman'; and not only
did she already 'have' a man -however unofficially-, but
he was one that Ronon called friend. One did not
interfere with the courtship of friends.
Of course, all things had exceptions. Sheppard certainly
couldn't protect her alone, and he needed the best as
backup since one backup was all he'd be allowed at their
destination. And knowing that everyone back on Atlantis
felt the same hunger eating away at their ribs as he
did.. Necessity and keeping your friends alive overruled
any personal preferences.
####
After eight gruelling hours of *forceful* negotiations,
the Atlantean delegation accompanied their first
shipment of food to the gate. Elizabeth watched the skid
flow out into the rippling blue yonder, still hyped up
on the adrenaline that had given her the strength to
stand up to the bullying tactics of their new 'allies'.
She supposed she had to thank them for providing regular
meals at least, which certainly helped her starved body
support her; but still, it'd been a while since she'd
put in this kind of day's work.
As the horizon dissipated, she was aware of John and
Ronon standing literally at her elbows, tense and
grumpy. She'd spent the day fighting; *they*'d spent the
day *ready* to fight, straining to catch any coming
threat while pretending not to, for fear of offering
insult.
And now they had to return to the palace and 'perform'.
She shied away from that part of it, deciding she needed
to forget about the watchers; there was no way she would
be able to.. No. Better to keep her focus on the here
and now.
These people didn't seem to have a use for love or any
other tender emotion. Sex was a physical fitness
testament, not anything to do with two people
connecting.. or three. But that didn't change how she
and *her* people saw the act, damn it.
##
Walking into the room they had been issued, Elizabeth
saw a tub through the door to the bathroom and couldn't
help a sudden smile, glad to let herself be distracted
and delay the inevitable; not to mention the very
practical consideration that this would be much more
pleasant if the three of them *didn't* stink. "I'm
claiming dibs on that tub, gentlemen," she swept away
with exaggerated grandness from her 'guards', standing
uncomfortably in front of the recently closed door. Well
yes, the idea of a bath after being grimy for so long
*did* make her a little giddy, why did you ask...
##
Soaking in the hot water, Elizabeth forced the calm of
meditation to settle in and neutralize some of the
excess adrenaline running roughshod through her veins.
Her people had food tonight, and her instincts said that
the rest of the talks were going to be successful;
tough, but successful. Without underestimating the
amount of underhanded backstabbing that could happen,
still, she really had learned to trust her instincts.
So for now, she trusted that her city and her people
were saved. It was an unfortunate fact that she'd needed
guards to get here safely and that the local definition
of 'guard' was enforced on foreigners. Her eyes opened;
the tension of the negotiations had allowed her to bury
the reality of what the next phase of the 'talks' really
entailed, but now the mental images became ascendant.
This was one of those rare occasions when Elizabeth's
little inside voice wanted to cover its eyes and hide in
a corner and ignore reality. And she wanted to listen to
it! However, that wasn't who Elizabeth Weir was. She
wouldn't have made it here if she'd hidden; wouldn't
have kept her people alive through the years by denying
problems. Alright. They needed these supplies, and the
men on the other side of that door had had to kill three
attackers on the way through town. And the condition for
these negotiations to continue.. was to have sex. It was
a severely limited godsend that the cameras were
infra-red; all things considered, in a place like this,
she wouldn't have been surprised if they required actual
video footage to sell!
No. She'd already decided to forget the damned cameras
were there, remember? Elizabeth took a deep breath,
forcibly clearing her mind. Alright. Forget about the
reasons and concentrate on the facts. She still couldn't
believe that the Atlantis intranet had NOT gotten any
threesome porn in it! She'd thought that doing a little
last-minute research would simply be wise, only to
discover that either her expedition was obsessively
single-partnered or she needed to spruce-up her hacking
skills.
Which left her with her imagination and that of John and
Ronon. And left her with John and Ronon themselves. Her
mind stilled, seeing them again as she'd turned away
from the door earlier. As much as the Satedan dominated
the room from sheer size, it was John's eyes that drew
her, an automatic pull that had gotten tighter with
every year they spent side by side. Her last reassurance
after hard choices, her anchor when there were only
problems and no solutions. And now... there had still
been that reassurance, but tempered by hesitation.. and
awareness. The recognition of that underlying attraction
they'd danced around for the last three years.
Except that there was another man in the room; their
friend or not, they would never have chosen to have him
present for this. She had to get her mind onto a path
that could accommodate what was about to happen. It
wasn't giving in to the nagging need to touch John, to
hold him and be held, to kiss him and *remember* it
properly -damned body black boxes-. What this was, was
one of those parts of a leader's job that they didn't
teach you in school; and she had no idea how they were
all going to work through it. Making love to John in
front of cameras would be bad enough... making love to
Ronon. At all, let along in front -with??- John... Dear
God.
Food. Food and a power source. And two men that she
*trusted*.
She could do this. Any number of people indulged in
recreational sex, and she had two gorgeous men that she
liked, in one way or another. Standing up in the tub,
Elizabeth frowned for a second; how had Cadman put it?
Oh yes, she grinned to herself, *eyecandy*. Yes, that
was what she should concentrate on. Never mind wishing
that she could simply put a collar on them to lay claim
to them. Think of the eye candy Elizabeth. Because this
wasn't about going through the motions; she, *they*,
actually had to *participate*. Completely.
Good God, she refused to think when she'd last had an
orgasm from a man; if she let herself feel it, she had
to admit that her body had a complaint on permanent
file. She could almost hear it whispering eagerly. Come
on Elizabeth, it's just consensual, friendly sex.
Please? Sex. Just pleasant sex. Right; everyone releases
some tension and feels good. And the expedition and the
Athosians all got to eat their fill for supper tonight,
Elizabeth, and the shield might be up by tomorrow night.
Sex.
Right.
Get to work Elizabeth. There are women who would *kill*
to have this job.
Now *that* thought made her smile; if only John
wasn't... what he was to her. Maybe... But then again,
no. No matter how she trusted Ronon, she wasn't sure
what she would feel if John wasn't there, but 'safe'
wasn't a good word for it. Where here.. yes, she did
feel safe, not 'happy', but physically safe, and even
emotionally, no more at risk that any other day.
She took her time wiping herself clean and even
smoothing on a very little bit of lotion, trying to
capture some feeling of anticipation, or sensuality.
Dressing in the more casual loose shirt and slacks she
pulled from her pack while making herself go over both
men's 'attributes' indifferently. Repeatedly beating off
the guilt at treating them like slabs of meat; and the
feeling of being unfaithful when her body responded,
ever so slightly, to the imagery.
Three equals.
Casual sex.
She took a last breath before opening the door,
belatedly wondering what they'd done while she'd been in
here.
John looked up when he heard the bathroom door finally
open. Sitting on the edge of the bed undoing his boots,
he met Elizabeth's eyes for a second before she tracked
Ronon to where he lounged in the only chair in the room.
The flowing hemp shirt she'd put on made her look so
different from the woman he worked with that he froze,
simply watching as she stepped further into the room,
dropping her pack next to the wall and hesitantly
walking to him as Ronon stepped past her silently and
closed the door behind himself. She looked almost
carefree, casual and relaxed, though he could see the
lie of that in the lines of tension around her eyes.
"Problem with your boots, colonel?" she grinned as she
looked down at his still frozen fingers and he jerked
back to himself.
Embarrassed heat crawled up his neck and he hurriedly
looked down to finish the job, mumbling, "Oh, you know,
tangled laces and all that." Considering everything else
that was currently a tangled mess, the laces were just a
nice distraction though.
After they'd taken off their vests and weapons in
stilted silence, Ronon had abruptly asked him if he and
Elizabeth had *ever* made love. As though they should
have, as though it was inevitable. As though it was a
topic of conversation by their people.
John had managed, up till then, to half-ignore what was
about to happen, had focused on the danger and left the
rest of this so vague in his thoughts that it didn't
trigger any of the emotional mines he'd felt swelling
when they'd first heard the news. But the words 'make
love' had snuck the images into his mind. Had pulled out
fantasies of Elizabeth that he was so used to denying
and burying that for a minute he'd felt like the guy
handling the nitro in some western; stiff and scared and
jittery, with no idea how to stand or move.
And then seeing Ronon had forced him to further adjust
the image into one that made him flinch in denial again,
but then he'd grabbed himself by the scruff with a
mental snarl. He couldn't afford to be childish right
now, they needed to do this; *Elizabeth* needed him and
he was damned if he'd fail her. So he'd taken a long
breath and, rather than fumble an answer to the
Satedan's impossible question, he'd shrugged and thrown
down his own gauntlet, "You ever been in a threesome?"
John grinned now, the smirk hidden by his bent head,
remembering the other man's half befuddled, half
grimacing expression, "You mean to tell me this is a
normal thing on Earth??"
"Hell, no," John had replied casually, "Does happen
though. Don't ask me how often but-" He'd shrugged
again.
"So... You know how..."
It wasn't often anyone got to see the self-confident
warrior unnerved, and if John wasn't so damned unnerved
himself, he'd be smirking happily at the turnaround. As
it was, "No; sorry. I'm sure some of the boys I flew
with when I was younger must have babbled about it over
beers, but even if I'd paid enough attention, I don't
think we'd want to give too much credence to them."
He'd sat on the bed, staring at the window looking out
far above the the dark city, "I managed to get a couple
hits off the network though," -by forcing himself to
treat it like an academic curiosity- he frowned now in
annoyance, "*Stories* of all things."
"Okay. So you *do* know what to do."
He'd tried to repeat what he remembered and they'd
stiffly thrown around a couple hesitantly spoken ideas
before falling silent. It was Ronon that had thrown the
last thought out; that they needed to treat this as
'fun'. Casual.
Yeah.
Casual.
Sex.
With Elizabeth. Yeah, right.
With Ronon. Err, what??
And that was the last they'd said to each other, both
reverting to silent and mutually and wordlessly agreeing
to go with the flow, since planning wasn't working for
either of them.
Now Elizabeth sat down a few inches besides him as he
straightened, throwing his boots out of the way and
turning, bending his knee up on the bed to face her.
She'd brought both bare feet on the comforter and
wrapped her arms round her raised knees, reinforcing the
relaxed image. This was far from the closest they'd been
to each other, but the fact that they were on a bed and
that she wasn't wearing shoes momentarily distracted
him, "I don't think I've ever seen you barefoot."
Elizabeth's grin from watching him struggle with his
footwear faded at his quiet words. She followed his eyes
down to the toes sticking out from her pant leg and
wriggled them experimentally, looking back up to catch a
soft grin on his face. "John?" When he looked up, still
smiling, she felt yet more of that tension inside her
settle, the gentleness and affection in his eyes were a
much-needed reassurance right now. "Have either of you-"
she waved a hand at the bed, themselves and the bathroom
door, hoping he'd get the picture.
His grin faded too, replaced with an equally reassuring
serious expression. "Participated in a threesome? No,"
he shook his head ruefully, "Of all things I thought I'd
regret not going after when I was young and wild..."
Elizabeth choked on a laugh, "*When* you were young and
wild? John Sheppard-" It was her turn to shake her head,
trying to wrap her mind into associating the frequently
un-leashable handsome man in front of her with someone
who saw youth and wildness only in his *past*.
John grinned widely, feeling a swell of warmth at having
made her relax and laugh. "We did talk a bit. About all
we agreed was that the best course was to keep this..
relaxed. Fun. Casual." He shrugged, smile fading as
every second brought him closer to the reality of trying
to put those words into some kind of action they could
all live with. When she nodded sober agreement before
looking away and just sitting silently, he caught
himself automatically looking away from the opening of
her shirt. No, for once he actually *should* stare; at
least a bit. Not for the encouragement; his body
shivered with awareness any time he was *close* to
Elizabeth, he wasn't remotely worried about being
'able'. But he did need to get used to looking, to
letting himself look. And used to being caught.
He blushed as she turned her head, smirking at catching
him staring at her breasts and automatically going to
'tease John' mode, "See something you like?"
If the teasing was a bit forced, he still appreciated
the attempt. He grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, actually," He
gave her a very slow, thorough once over, not really
teasing and ended with a grin as he saw the bright red
staining her cheeks, "Very much."
She shook her head at him before sobering, "John?" He
quirked a brow at the uncertain edge to her voice, "Are
we going to be okay?"
His breath wanted to stutter and he let it, knowing she
needed to know she wasn't the only one unsure far more
than he needed his pride in front of her. He cleared his
throat, feeling the familiar pull of need to touch her,
"Yeah, we will," he hesitated, seeing her continued
worry, "I promise, Elizabeth. I'm not letting this hurt
*us*." What 'us' *was*... was a question for when
Atlantis was back in fighting shape and they were
*alone*, but he meant every word. He knew he was going
to be jealous, had known from the first instant, but no
one deserved that feeling here, Elizabeth wasn't che-
wasn't falling for another man. She was trying to keep
their people alive by the only means she had.
She seemed to believe him, nodding with a small smile
before looking away, he assumed to regain her relaxed
humour.
There was something else they needed to get used to,
though. Something he, for one, viscerally needed to be
all their own.
"Elizabeth?" When she turned that falsely calm look back
to him, John carefully brought a hand to her cheek,
aware that she stiffened and was choking the instinct to
pull back. He needed to do this, needed for the first
time he kissed her to be just the two of them. To
establish that baseline in both their minds. He had
dreamed this moment for far too long, had accepted that
it was safer for their relationship and for their jobs
for it not to happen yet, but now... This was one first
that they could *still* have.
They watched each other as they got closer, silently
acknowledging what they meant to each other, and
Elizabeth wondered how they'd survived so long with this
power boxed up inside themselves. When their lips
touched, it was with gentle tenderness, not trying to
speak of sex, but of love. Of caring. Their eyes still
open, her fingers curled into his shirt, shivering and
searching for an anchor; feeling his wide, warm hands
stroking her back lightly, each pass pulling her closer,
laying claim to her, wrapping her senses in his touch
and protection. All the time in the world to love each
other; and then, naturally enough, lips parted and
deeper exploration became necessary. The need arising to
possess and give; to belong to each other *right now*.
Elizabeth's hands were buried in John's warm, lively
hair; his hands under her shirt and pants, caressing and
rippling her tight against him. Her tongue deep in his
mouth, body simmering with heat and need when she felt
different hands hesitatingly settle on her hips.
She pulled back in confusion, breathing hard, listening
to John whine at the back of his throat at the
interruption. But she also felt a bearded kiss on her
nape; and then she remembered and looked behind her,
meeting Ronon's teasing expression apologetically. As
odd as it was, seeing the Satedan's face so close -so
much stranger than staring into John's eyes as they
kissed- and seeing the understanding in his eyes,
reassured her. His teasing grin when he looked past her
was something she again knew they would all need to
survive this surreal night. Humour to make light of
physical need, to soothe the primitive beasts that could
all too easily rise.
Chapter
two
Ronon had taken as long as he could excuse under the
warm shower, knowing his friends needed to talk, and do
other things, before they could all get to this night's
work. He distracted himself with thinking about the look
Teyla had given him before he left Atlantis. Mostly
shuttered.. but with a hint of some hidden fierceness.
He knew she wasn't any happier about this than the
couple in the other room; than *he* was, damn it!. But
that look hinted that maybe when this was done, they'd
finally enter into some negotiations of their own. As
much as the thought put the right about of zip in his
blood for the evening, still, the 'details' left him
twitchy at the mental association of two such..
disparate acts. Making love to the woman he wanted to
claim should never have been in the same thought as..
having not-quite-forced sex with a friend.
He just hoped that Sheppard really could overlook this.
The man was in a complicated relationship with even more
complex feelings involved; almost certainly including a
heavy dose of buried possessiveness. Regardless of what
he *said*, or thought he *meant*, Ronon might still find
himself out of a team as a result, if not out of the
city. Not that that was going to change his course of
action; his comrades needed him, Teyla's people needed
him. Whatever the cost, he would do what was necessary.
Though as he stood in the door and watched his friends
kiss, he not only had to fight his distaste at
interrupting such a private moment, but he also twitched
again, this time wondering how he'd deal with having
another man in the room while he had sex with a woman. A
*naked* man. Definitely not *this* Satedan's way. But
hardly the worst way it could happen, he thought with a
snarl at the viciousness that existed in some people. He
resolutely stamped out that unpleasant thought as he
stepped forward silently; making himself find the humour
at just how lost the couple on the bed were in each
other. Why the devils had they waited so long, anyway?
But then, *he*'d yet to get a certain stubborn Athosian
to bend, had he?
##
"Much as I'd normally encourage this as being about
damned time," Ronon's grin faded, "If I leave you to it,
we could get in trouble; even if I watched..."
Without a word, John's hands were gone from Elizabeth's
body and he dropped a kiss on her nape before getting
up. She turned back to watch him go and he gave her a
nod of... approval, she thought, or permission. Though
nothing could hide the hesitant, regretful expression
twisting his lips before he turned to grab his pack and
close the bathroom behind him. No. Not any of their
first choices.
She turned back to face Ronon, resisting, barely, the
need to take a breath for courage. She liked him,
admired his courage and loyalty, and she neither wanted
to insult him, nor to make this harder for him. But
she'd never been one to sleep with a man without some
feelings involved; let along sleep with TWO men at once!
They silently watched each other for a minute;
adjusting, she thought, putting the other in one's
category of 'sleeping partner' instead of friend and
colleague. Or leader. To open their eyes to the sexual
beings they each were, could be, had to be, to each
other; for tonight.
"Sheppard says this is okay with him. What about you?"
She must have succeeded at reclassifying him because his
deep voice pulled a small shiver through her,
distracting her for a second too long. The serious look
in his eyes made Elizabeth wonder if he thought she was
going to chase him out of Atlantis for this and she
smiled reassuringly, bringing a hesitant hand to touch
his beard, "This is okay, Ronon. Necessary. I'm-" she
frowned, "Did we even ask if it was okay with *you*?"
She saw the set of his shoulders relax, becoming
*aware*, physically, that he was only wearing loose
pants. Bare, muscled shoulders and a mile of smooth
chest weren't even partially hidden by his usual vest.
Just eyecandy, and forget about tomorrow.
"Not exactly. But I would never refuse to help our
people. Sheppard knows that."
Elizabeth winced at their slip, no matter how he excused
them.
He just grinned, eyes lightening, "So you and Sheppard
had a chance to 'talk'?"
Though they'd hardly said anything, she knew they'd
communicated enough; and never mind what Ronon was
implying either! "Yes, we're alright."
He nodded seriously, "Good."
Another minute of silent appraisal and she *did* take
that breath, smiling self-deprecatingly as she leaned in
and kissed him, hesitant and awkward at first, too aware
of the beard to forget who he was. Or wasn't. When he
slid a hand behind her head and gently pulled her
closer, she did her part by opening her mouth and
letting him in, trying to let herself relax and
surrender. Casual. Fun. Sex.
She *did* like him. And he *was* a good looking man that
both she and John trusted. The fact that she wasn't
attracted to him... couldn't be allowed to interfere
with tonight. So she concentrated on soft lips, the
sensual feel of wild hair, of hands starting to caress
her. Concentrated on warm skin that was rougher than
hers by far, on heavy muscles that flexed with power
under her touch.
##
John froze when he stepped out of the bathroom in
nothing but running pants. There was no denying the sick
kick of jealousy that hit him at seeing another man
kissing and touching Elizabeth, the snarl that almost
escaped as his hands fisted and his shoulders bunched to
attack. But, luckily *before* he did anything stupid, he
caught himself; took a firm grip on the green-eyed
monster and locked it away, knowing it was neither
deserved, nor would it appreciate what *else* was to
come. This wasn't a choice and he wasn't going to be the
one to be stupid and make this harder on any of them.
Just for tonight, this had to be more about sex than
love. Hell, he also had to try to ignore his automatic
discomfort with another man in the room. That he
currently wanted to *kill* that man.. was something he
needed to distract himself from, and pronto.
Stepping closer to the somewhat mechanically -he
reassured himself- kissing pair, he could see the
tension in Elizabeth's shoulders; yeah, much healthier
focus. Elizabeth. Sitting down behind her, he pressed
his lips lingeringly on her nape, knowing the
unhesitating move had more to do with staking claim than
physical familiarity. He kissed slowly along her neck as
his hands kneaded the tight muscles along her backbone.
Looking at this as being about bringing Elizabeth
pleasure suddenly made his chest relax; anything to
bring her joy, right? He and Ronon were on the same team
and needed to *cooperate*, not compete.
He felt her body melt under his hands and smiled
triumphantly, lips hidden in the still-damp wave of
auburn behind her ear. As though sensing his
self-satisfaction, Elizabeth turned her head, lips
separating from Ronon's without an argument as John's
hands slid down, looking for the way under her shirt
he'd found before. Her lips taking his was a distraction
though; the foreign taste there was even more so until
he re-stuffed the jealousy away with a stumbling grip,
glad they'd kissed first so he had the comparison. He
was faintly aware of her leaning back against his bare
chest, her warmth very pleasant indeed. He also became
aware of Ronon undoing her shirt buttons as John's hands
sat unmoving at her hips, but he refused to be
distracted from the arousal she was pulling from him.
Kissing.. kissing Elizabeth was important; when the
shirt disappeared, sliding his hand into her slacks in
front of her hips and pulling her even more tightly
against him was important. When she reached her hands
backward into his hair, bowing her chest out in an
irresistible invitation; pulling back to look his fill
at her now-bare breasts was inevitable, as was sliding
his fingers back up to cup the soft white flesh, his
head bending just enough for his lips to reach skin, any
skin.
When his fingers encountered others on the same path,
his head shot up, losing contact with the lobe of her
ear, pulling his tongue back from its teasing path.
Meeting Ronon's dark grin didn't have time to free the
monster before he heard what sounded suspiciously like a
breathless giggle from Elizabeth. He wanted her to get
back to the little throaty moans she'd been making,
though, and he shared a look with his erstwhile teammate
-a wriggled brow enough to communicate his 'order'- and
they both shifted, tackling to the bed the woman who was
their enviable task for the evening.
On a different day, John had dreamt of bringing her to
slow torturous pleasure, of shared laughter and
tenderness; and openly expressed love. But that wasn't
for tonight. Tonight they needed to be friends; *all* of
them. Tonight the laughter would be more raucous, less
personal. And though there were threads of affection
between the three of them.. this night wasn't of
cherishing, it was of sensual enjoyment and mutual
respect. There had been a time he could do that, he just
had to remember enough to at least walk the tightrope
that caged possessiveness.
So, along with jealousy, John stuffed the
often-breathless love he felt for this beautiful,
strong, caring woman deep inside, hoping against hope
that there would be another night; SOON! For now, he
followed their tackle move by, without further ado,
lowering his lips to the slope of Elizabeth's right
breast, feeling Ronon's long hair brush his cheek where
he mirrored the move on her left.
No. Better not to think too hard on anything tonight.
Better to pretend it was *Elizabeth's* soft hair; more
useful too.
Soft skin smoothing past his lips, he slipped one hand
to her neck to stroke the corner of her mouth with his
thumb, the other came up to cup the underside of her
breast as Elizabeth moaned again, his senses delighting
in the sound, even if his heart took it far too
personally as her fingers tangled on the back of his
head. In this at least, he could indulge himself, was
honourbound even; to bring her pleasure. He tasted every
inch of slowly swelling flesh, stroking and shaping it
for his mouth to feast. Elizabeth's soft whimpers and
the upward thrust of her chest were a tug at his own
arousal and he turned his head to slide his lips onto
the hard tip he'd avoided. Gently at first, careful of
how sensitive she might be, he still suckled it, still
brought his tongue to play; slow and careful. Until she
tugged his head closer with a growl of frustration.
Sounds weren't his alone to take as command, but her
hand pressing on his skull *was* just for him and he
obeyed diligently; opened his mouth to take more of her,
suckling insistently and rewarded with nails digging in
to hold him hard against her rising torso. Listening to
her cry out, he reached to pull her slacks down, slow
going as he took every excuse to stroke the smooth, hot
skin along the way, vaguely thinking of covering it with
kisses and nibbles, if only he could tear himself away
from treating her breast just as hard as she demanded.
Vaguely aware that Ronon's hands were undoing her zipper
and getting rid of the pants while John's meandered
sensually over her ribs and belly.
It was wanton to lay there and have two men bent on her
pleasure, but however much being wanton wasn't *her*, to
actually think on what was happening, to return the
attention, was a conflict. With John because it would
leave her questioning their relationship and forever
wanting more. With Ronon because she would be poaching;
and cheating. And faking. Mostly.. though arousal was
definitely making those reasons a lot hazier, a lot more
malleable.
The awareness that her 'lovers' would be feeling the
same thing was what convinced Elizabeth that she *had*
to participate.
It was easier to touch John, more a natural desire let
free than a movement forced, and so when she felt her
slacks being pulled off her legs, she slowly wrapped one
around his waist, allowing herself to *feel* the man
she'd fantasized about for three years; skin, muscle,
strength. And the power to make her shake with need and
sensual pleasure, even with such a small contact. She
knew he'd felt the change in her when he briefly lifted
his head, the shift of his hair under her splayed hand
pulling her gaze to meet his. Okay, so it wasn't just
the one touch making her react; the tight cords between
*both* her nipples and her clitoris were tight, tingling
and making the blood rush over her skin in need and
delight.
The understanding in his eyes turned to challenge as he
held hers and pulled her wetly shining nipple back into
his mouth, the responding throb deep in her body spiking
when he met her jerkily raising hips by pushing his
still fabric-covered, aroused penis into her thigh. She
was only half aware of her other hand pulling a much
more slowly caressing set of lips harder to her other
breast. She took John's challenge and used her toes to
lower his pants, not missing the chance to stroke his
firm ass. His eyes closed and she felt a moan vibrate on
her so-sensitive nipple; she wanted to grin at getting
to him, except that she was outnumbered and outgunned
and was choking a cry as Ronon observantly joined the
party with a nibble of his own.
She didn't think she'd ever felt such a surge of wetness
and need hit her and she quite suddenly wanted nothing
so much as to flip John on his back and take him. Take
him in her mouth and listen to him call out with
pleasure, and then fill the emptiness at her core with
him. Never mind that she'd never liked giving fellatio;
with every inch of skin she stroked she wanted him,
wanted to spend a day in bed, sweaty and undignified and
*loving* each other...
She suddenly hit the end of her reach, with John's pants
still at his knees. When he didn't finish the job for
her, instead slowly rubbing his now-bare cock teasingly
on her thigh as he suckled contentedly, Ronon was the
one to chuckle at her growl and reach down himself to
slide the slacks off the other man's legs, getting a
baleful eye from him for the intimate touch. John
retaliated by reaching over and jerking *his* pants
down. Ronon grinned, letting the wet breast slip out of
his mouth momentarily to rasp, "Hey! Watch the
equipment, Sheppard!"
Above them, Elizabeth laughed, the interaction bridging
her connection to the other man. Not waiting to think it
over, letting sensual haze guide her, she reached down
with a toe of her left foot and gently stroked said
tool, "Seems alright..." How long had it been since
she'd felt up a man's penis? Feeling two of them on her
body though, was unsettling until she shut 'thinking'
down, closing her eyes and resolutely sticking to
*feeling* and *dreaming*.
John's concentration returned to Elizabeth when his
still-travelling fingers skated over damp hairs and he
felt heat radiate onto his wrist. Softly sliding his
fingers over the hot mound, he moaned with primitive
need as he felt the moisture that had seeped out between
the swollen, aroused lips hidden within. The deep growl
he heard besides him preceded those lips parting as
Ronon pressed a thick finger into the seam as Elizabeth
held her breath and stiffened.
John stroked a finger into the space created, hearing
Elizabeth gasp a cry just as he brushed a tight bump of
flesh. He pulled himself up and kissed her, abandoning
the well of heat, his hands splaying on her belly
instead to feel her breathe and shiver as Ronon moved
down. Next time..
But the hunger in her kiss was nothing to regret -and
God did he ever love kissing her. Could he convince her
to spend a week just *kissing* him?-. And her two hands
desperately stroking every inch of his skin made him
shiver and shudder before she suddenly stiffened, nails
landing on his shoulders forcefully.
John grinned through the kiss as she bucked, hard,
almost throwing both him and Ronon off. He swallowed her
cry of pleasure, his fingers coming up to give her
nipples alternating tweaks and squeezes in time with her
body's jerking; ignoring her nails desperately dug into
his back, listening instead to her sounds of pleasure.
He'd never had a liking for pain before, but feeling
Elizabeth's passion in any form made his cock hard and
painful as hell, grinding into the side of her hip as
she cried out and shuddered again.
He really didn't give a damn right this second that it
was another man bringing her such pleasure; he was just
delighted with her response, with feeling and watching
her let herself go. Was voyeur enough to be turned on by
watching a woman, even *his* woman, arching in pleasure
with a man's head between her legs, never mind the fact
that she was single-mindedly fucking *his* mouth.
He groaned when one of her hands suddenly released his
shoulder and stuttered down to wrap her palm around him.
He almost bit her tongue when she squeezed jerkily
before starting an unsteady pumping motion, stealing his
ability to think. It wasn't until he heard her rasp a
plea urgently into his ear that he realized he'd stopped
kissing her, his mouth slipping sideways, lax, as he
forgot everything but the fire and tension spiralling
from her hand on him.
Ronon's attention on the woman under his touch
fluctuated; sometimes he was lost in the sybaritic
pleasure of sex and could forget the details, enjoyed
knowing he brought her pleasure, feeling her shiver and
jerk and hearing her strangled cries as he licked and
suckled and nibbled. Noticing that the sweet sounds she
made were strangled in another man's kiss were the
moments when he refocused on reality.
She was tensing now and he just knew she was close, and
he could see the muscles in Sheppard's thigh standing
out, tight, just a few inches from his face, just as
much a sign of need. Watching her jerk him made Ronon
grin for some reason, briefly wondering where his prim
ways had gone, but mostly allowing that the change was
practical. He sucked one last time at Dr. Weir's aroused
body before sitting up and pulling the other man's leg
further across her body, where he'd just been laying,
before letting go with a playful slap to his ass,
growling "Take her, old man."
John shivered as a hand slid over his thigh, body tensed
and sensitive and needing attention, any attention. A
slap on the ass, on the other hand, snapped his
distraction from its fascination with Elizabeth's
torturing hand and he turned his head to glare at the
smirking man crouching next to them while stroking
himself. Nonetheless, that was a very good order. Even
if he'd prefaced it with a fondling. And an accusation
of age!
He got his knees on the bed and his arms around
Elizabeth, pulling her up to kneel with him. As much as
he wanted to lay her on her back and make long and slow
love to her, having large, calloused *male* hands on him
had been a good reminder that this wasn't a normal
encounter.
Before he could shift onto his back with at least *some*
grace, Elizabeth had taken advantage of the position and
without ceremony brought her very aroused passage down
on his cock, a leg wrapping around his hip, foot digging
into his ass as she moaned. It was his turn to have his
cry swallowed as she crashed her lips on his, kissing
him possessively as he tried to keep control of himself
as wet heat squeezed tight around him. He could hear
incoherent moaning that had to be him and realized he
wouldn't win, couldn't restrain their headlong race now.
He jerked desperately, unable to control the movement,
dropping backward onto the bed so that she was riding
him.
She managed to stay upright, astride him with her hands
on his lower ribs, flexing and sliding her open fingers
through the short hairs there. Though he'd lost her kiss
in the bargain, as much as he'd loved being taken and
losing himself, that wasn't conducive to doing what was
necessary here. This way he could clench his teeth and
actually find a measure of control, grabbing her hips to
slow her desperate -heavenly, God *please*! more-
movements.
He watched through half-lidded eyes as she growled at
him, grinning stiffly in response and shifting his grip
forward to be able to spread his hands until his thumbs
reached above where they were joined. He stroked jerkily
as he thrust, trying to go slow but all too aware that
he was close, too close, and his body wasn't really
listening very well as heat rampaged through his veins
and muscles.
Then Ronon was kneeling down behind her, crouching to
make up for his height, pulling her into a deep
over-her-shoulder kiss that John saw take her just as
she had done to him. Watching dark hands cup and fondle
her outthrust breasts, thumbs swiping slowly across hard
nipples, made the pleasure tighten in his balls,
tightened *every* muscle in his body and he gave in to
the need to thrust hard and fast, 'fucking' the very
sensual woman he'd fantasized about for years.
He felt pulsating tremors start around his cock, her
body held in place by his jerking hands at her hips and
the much calmer ones on her chest. Yes! His eyes burned
in the last instances before he lost it too, watching
Elizabeth as her body bowed back, barely held in check
by the man behind her, her face twisted with ecstasy,
inner muscles grabbing John in the most intimate way
there was as he heard a howl reverberate from her
throat. And *that* pushed him right over the edge, eyes
rolling back as he shouted, his body convulsing as she
milked him, hard, making him jerk, making his fingers
jerk on her clit, making her shudder longer...
Elizabeth could hardly breathe as she shook, John's
still stiffly twitching fingers keeping her too near the
edge, the heated, very obviously aroused body rubbing
behind her keeping her sensitive; her orgasm leaving her
flooded with an utterly sexual awareness of herself and
her surroundings. She opened her eyes and watched John,
resting back down now, visibly shivering. She could
still feel him inside her, slowly softening just as she
slowly remembered how to breathe.
The sight of his body laid out before her no-longer-wild
eyes kept a pulse alive deep in her belly. She'd seen
his arms before, in short-sleeves, knew he was strong,
and tough, but the complete lack of any material hiding
the whole expanse of his skin from view now, made the
curves and twists of muscle far more obvious, not just
forearms and biceps, but shoulders and chest. The sheen
of sweat glistening under the hair tickling his
clavicles and thickening down to where she held him
inside her body made her fingers itch to slide over
every inch of him. Made her tongue slide over her lips;
the fact that she she was leaning back on Ronon and
could hardly move for being so weak were the only
reasons she didn't indulge herself.
His eyes opened with a dazed look and he grinned weakly
up at her; so obviously, gloriously happy with himself
and his world that she again licked her lips, more
consciously this time as she smiled back; knowing she
looked satisfied as hell, herself. He let go of her hips
with a caress as she felt him slip out of her, leaving
her pleasantly sore from the unaccustomed loving, as
well as feeling semen slide down her thigh, reminding
her of that wishful notion of spending a day having
sweaty, *dirty* sex... His hands stopped on the way past
and squeezed hers, still laying on his ribs.
This private little eye-hug ended as the hands at her
breasts slid down to her hips, shifting her up and back
with a slight jerkiness that spoke of restless need.
Now that the moment was here, Elizabeth instinctively
stiffened, even before John's eyes darkened and speared
over her shoulder with momentary fury. The tableau held
for a handful of heartbeats, until John suddenly
blinked, breaking Elizabeth's trance. His death grip on
her hands relaxed and his eyes met hers with a wince of
apology before he release her fingers with a last
squeeze, nodding behind her with a smile that was meant
to be reassuring, "It's OK."
She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until
she found herself exhaling suddenly at the husky murmur.
Her eyes closed in shame at just how close they had come
to not only risking *their* lives, but those of the rest
of the expedition too.
Making herself relax, Elizabeth looked over her
shoulder, "I'm sorry-"
Ronon's head shake and sympathetic smile only made her
wince further, but there was nothing more she could say
so she simply let her head fall back on his shoulder.
Allowing herself to take the time to feel her body's
still present pleasure, to focus on John and bring back
the daydream and the sensuality. Breathing deeply,
letting her body once again come to accept that this was
about *casual* pleasure. That it was alright for Ronon
to be holding her, for his aroused body to rub against
hers.
She finally felt calm enough and exchanged one last look
with John -always her last reassurance- before closing
her eyes and raising her body straight up on her knees,
reflexively tightening her vagina and feeling the pull
on her clit send out little waves of pleasure, helping
her to relax; and between her earlier arousal and John
coming inside her, she was more than lubricated enough.
She reached one hand beside her to stroke Ronon's hip,
just for the additional contact, reassurance for both of
them, and the other down between her thighs to angle his
cock up into her, gently and carefully.
He didn't move, letting her shift onto him at her own
pace, and she was grateful as he slowly slid into her
drenched body, bringing still throbbing nerves back to
rushed life, past the last of the conflict she still
strained to keep buried. He was thicker, stretching at
muscles that, though softened by arousal, were still
stiff with the shivers of orgasm -and tension- and were
just not used to this exercising. She settled down
carefully, turning her head to meet his in a hard kiss,
allowing herself to get used to the unfamiliar position
and feel, briefly wishing that sexuality had been able
to keep its hold on her; once again forcing herself to
focus purely on her senses to lose some of her thoughts
in the kiss. She didn't notice when John pulled himself
out from under her; under *them*. Feeling Ronon's hands
shift on her hips as her body relaxed its clench around
him.
He pulled back slowly, then thrust up gently and she
moaned, the odd angle and stretch encouraging a very low
throb of arousal to distract from the soreness. She
doubted she could come again tonight, especially in this
position, and instead wrapped both hands behind herself
to stroke his flanks encouragingly, deliberately making
the kiss evocative, copying the movement of his body.
Resisting the urge to treat this as a job by focusing on
the thrill of hearing him groan in pleasure, the
satisfaction in knowing she could wring that from a man
when she usually had to hold herself so closed off.
John wasn't sure what to do as he watched, fiercely
focusing on Elizabeth's expression to keep the jealousy
at bay. Luckily, once they were engaged, the ugly
feeling seemed to pass, to the point that even
completely sated as he was, voyeuristic pleasure peaked
out again and kept him interested. After a minute, he
crawled forward and laid down on his side, holding his
weight on his elbow as he brought his lips down right
above the action. He could interpret his teammates
stubborn wish to have her come first, just as easily as
see Elizabeth's unreadiness and residual tension; half
*his* fault for overreacting. He wriggled his free hand
between the two lovers to squeeze her ass cheek and give
himself an anchor as he licked at glistening skin,
remembering his earlier wish and more than satisfied
with the reality.
Her clitoris was swollen and he felt every minute muscle
under her skin jerk and tighten as he lapped his tongue
over it, finding again that she liked a little
roughness, that suckling at the mix of flavours she was
coated in got more reaction than gentleness. Feeling her
shudder and hearing the edge of moans still made his
pulse jump, bribed him to never want to move.
He ignored the fact that their movements sometimes
landed his tongue on a very differently built body part,
instead, John tightened his grip on her ass, gripping
the flesh firmly in his palm, fingertips just grazing
the border to the next cheek, pulled her to him, or his
face into her. Ignoring too, the straining abs brushing
his knuckles. No, he could lay here tasting sex and
feeling Elizabeth spasm with every suck, listening to
her whimper as one of her hands landed in his hair now,
briefly stroking but then giving up the charade and
pulling him the closer. Oh yeah, right up there with
kissing, even though keeping up with the speeding
thrusts was going to leave him really weirdly stiff in
the morning.
Elizabeth's head was thrown back, aroused and needing to
come now, desperate even as her clitoris got the kind of
firm treatment most men seemed hesitant to give. But
there was queer tension keeping her from relaxing, all
too likely her pesky thoughts refusing to be stomped;
telling her that she was letting the wrong man take her,
she at *least* shouldn't- "Look down," the shaky growl
was a hot breath on her neck as Ronon turned his head to
break the kiss, the sound shimmering through her body
and making her cry out breathlessly. So very close...
"*Look*." She opened her eyes feverishly at the
repeated, insistent rasp, looking down as ordered,
gasping for breath and shaking -so very close! Lips and
soft, wet beard pressed to her ear, tongue flickering
over the lobe with speech, "Look at him."
And she did; couldn't help but stare at her hands
pulling John closer. His cheeks flexed as his tongue
played her and he suckled, hard and sooo good and- but
she knew what she was really meant to remember was the
look of pleasure, of enjoying himself, enjoying *her*.
"Even though you're not alone, he'll remember this
*every* time he jerks off, Dr. Weir, what about *you*?"
There was no way she could speak, but the thought, the
*image* of John laying in his quarters, thinking of her,
of this- her grip in his hair and on Ronon's hip
suddenly tightened and she cried out wordlessly, buried
in touch and scent and sweat; slick, sliding, waves of
furnace-heat and pleasure rising through her as every
muscle tensed and started convulsing.
John held on tight, knowing he was bruising her butt and
utterly unable to let go as she pulsed between his lips,
wanting to make it last for her. It took him a minute to
spare attention to the fact that Ronon was thrusting
jerkily, grunting with need, obviously trying to find
his own pleasure. Still suckling Elizabeth, more gently
now, through the aftershocks, he reached between her
legs with the hand that had supported him, up until now,
holding himself up with his abs, and stroked his thumb
firmly down the exposed section of the other man's cock,
jiggling his balls the same way he'd jerk himself off.
Not really thinking about what he'd done until he felt
the wave pass under the pad of his finger on the
upstroke and heard his friend groan and finally go
still.
Elizabeth's hold on him had relaxed into a soothing
caress now and he slowly, wordlessly, lifted his head to
exchange a smile with her before getting up to his
knees, stroking one hand up her back and the other
around one of her thighs, pulling himself tight to her
in a kneeling hug, forehead to forehead, Ronon's chest
on his knuckles, *his* knuckles brushing John's chest
where he'd gone back to palming Elizabeth's breasts.
Ronon felt the woman leaning on him sigh and lay more of
her weight on him and he met Sheppard's eyes over her
head. The man nodded toward the head of the bed and got
up as Ronon laid down, carefully bringing Dr. Weir down
to lay on her side in front of him. Sex always left him
feeling more tactile than usual and he hoped she didn't
mind that he continued to hold and stroke her. The
danger of the moment when they'd all come face to face
with the reality of the situation still beat through
him, but he trusted these two people to stand by their
word. They had said this was okay and they had both
caught themselves quickly when reaction *had* hit. He
didn't know what he would have done in Sheppard's shoes,
but he had to trust that the moment had been an
aberration. If it wasn't.. well, they would let him
know, one way or another, but honour called to assume
they would stand by their words.
So he didn't stop himself from touching, and now that
the haze of the act was lifting, he was going over the
evening with a peculiarly disconcerted feeling. He'd had
enough exposure to porn since meeting the Atlanteans to
have come to accept that it was arousing to watch two
people have sex, even though he *knew* he didn't belong
there, but the notion that it was a man's fingers that
had provided the last strokes to get him off.. was
unnerving. Or it should be. Right?
Oh well. He kissed Dr.Weir's shoulder one last time,
content that he still preferred the feel of soft breasts
in his palms than anything else, and turned to lay on
his back, one hand behind his head as he stretched out,
firmly putting aside the self-analyzing thoughts for
another day and just enjoying the afterglow of a happy
body.
John walked into the bathroom, rotating his shoulder and
rolling his eyes at his mental whining. He'd *known*
that was going to hurt; not that he regretted it, not
even a bit. But he didn't like the thought that he was
getting too old for sex gymnastics. He stared in the
mirror at his face as he grabbed a small cloth, wet it
and cleaned himself up. He still wasn't sure if the hint
of grey in his hair was his imagination or the glaring
honesty of full light. Looking down at the rest of his
body, he stopped the introspection; hell, after that
performance, who the hell cared? He still had it, and if
he could talk Elizabeth into finding a way to do this
again, at least the part with the two of them... Hey, as
long as *she* liked it, he didn't give a damn what
colour the hair was, or how many lines snuck onto his
face. He grinned as he washed the cloth and grabbed
another, leaving them both a little soggy, and she *had*
been enjoying looking at him, *that* hadn't been his
imagination!
Walking into the bedroom, he quirked a brow at his
teammate's cocky position. Glad that the urge to kill
him seemed to have fully vanished, he threw one of the
cloths at his head, not surprised when the seemingly
sleeping warrior caught it in midair. "Show off." The
all-too-tall, too young and too strong tease just
grinned at him as he used the cloth to start his own
cleanup as John kneeled on the bed next to a half-asleep
Elizabeth and gently rolled her to her back, watching
her eyes open groggily. She looked like a fallen angel,
adorably flushed, mussed, boneless, tired.. and pleased.
Or was that pleasured? Why didn't he carry a camera in
the field, again?
Giving up the wasted wishing and concentrating on
collecting memories, he carefully pressed the warmly wet
cloth between her legs and winked when she sighed
contentedly and opened her legs to give him complete
access. She smiled and closed her eyes again as he took
his time gently wiping her clean before dropping a kiss
on her belly and throwing the cloth on a nigh table. The
lights went off and he looked up to see Ronon walking
back from the switch as he lay down besides her, pulling
her back onto her side to hug her close, burying his
nose between her shoulder and neck and half aware that
the other man had fitted himself to her back. John was
almost getting used to a hairy chest on his knuckles;
and large knuckles on *his* chest.
Elizabeth nuzzling her nose into his neck with a sigh
made up for a great deal of damned unpleasant realities.
The shiver she managed to send through his sated body;
even more so. With a content sigh of his own, he reached
down lazily and tugged her thigh over his hip, pulling
their bodies as close as they could be.
Elizabeth drifted, pleasantly warm and feeling pampered;
willing to forget everything until tomorrow. When she
felt Ronon pull her other leg backward to lay between
*his* though, she could almost hear them start to glare
at each other over her and she grinned, opening her eyes
and pulling her head back to glare at John. She shifted
his jaw over so she could kiss him, long and lazy and
pleasurably, feeling Ronon nuzzling her nape. Before she
could fall in the daze herself, she released him,
satisfied that he was out of trouble-causing commission
for a while, "Enough, colonel, I am *not* a dessert to
fight over. Ever." As much as she'd started that kiss as
a joke, it occurred to her that maybe making a point
*now* would save her more serious arguments later. Her
freezing mid act aside, she couldn't afford either of
these men being immature about this.
He pouted, but then nodded reluctant agreement and
relaxed the edge of possessiveness that had snuck into
his grip, eyes apologizing silently. With a reassuring
smile for him, she then reached behind her and gripped a
fistful of long hair, ignoring the grunt of complaint as
she turned her head to give Ronon a hard kiss, wiping
the smirk he'd been wearing right off his face, "That
goes for you too, Ronon."
*He* only grinned back unrepentantly, unfazed, "Yes
Ma'am."
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head before laying back
to face a John smirking at the blatant disobedience to
her edict. Oh well, as long as they were back on the
same side; and didn't think Ronon would be a problem,
anyway. Elizabeth cuddled back up to John, keeping one
arm behind her on Ronon's hip for fairness -and any
damned still watching cameras!-, but otherwise
concentrating on her second-in-command's breath in her
ear, his skin in reach of lazy kisses, his heartbeat
steady under her palm. It was very nice to be so warm
all over, and she was actually used to Ronon's touch
now, especially now that it was and would remain only
'touch'. Drowsily enjoying being petted and kissed by
both of them, Elizabeth decided this had been a far
better day than anticipated. Momentary hiccough
included.
Chapter
three
Elizabeth woke when Ronon got up, feeling the sudden
chill; the blanket he covered her with was no match for
the furnace of his body. Her eyes opened in confusion at
the change and met John's, mere inches away. She gasped
in surprise before her brain kicked in and reminded her
of where she was, and then she chuckled at her reaction,
glad to see him grin softly in return.
"Sorry he woke you, bad soldier's habits to be up so
early."
His voice was still raspy with sleep and Elizabeth,
assimilating her memories and the sensations of his body
tight against hers wondered how hard waking up alone was
going to be tomorrow. Her leg was over his hip, her hand
buried in the hair at the back of his head; his hand
absently kneading her ass and his half-aroused penis
lodged between her thighs. Yes, tomorrow was going to be
very lonely and cold, she thought sadly.
"Elizabeth?" She'd been focused on her senses too long
and realized he was starting to worry at her silence,
"We okay?"
Focusing on the closeness they'd fallen into last night
and still too sleepy to start back to their status quo
yet, she smiled and closed the distance between them,
intending just a quick kiss of reassurance. But she'd
forgotten how good it felt, and once he ran is tongue
over her lip, she forgot about 'quick' and instead lost
track of time as they lay there in the predawn light and
French kissed lazily.
####
Ronon stopped in the bathroom door, rolling his eyes
with affectionate exasperation. *How* had they managed
to keep their hands off each other for so long? Hey,
maybe he could use the fact that this finally got them
together to get the water he was in with Teyla a little
less hot. He'd realized a long time ago that her tough
exterior hid the heart of a matchmaker and a romantic;
she would love for the leaders of Atlantis to finally
get some ease with each other...
Shaking his head at the fact that they hadn't so much as
twitched from their deep kiss, Ronon fought off the
automatic instinct to leave them alone and instead
walked up to the bed and slapped his military commander
on his exposed ass, "Quit being greedy, old man; let the
lady have a break," he looked at Dr. Weir, "Bath ready,
Doc."
Elizabeth laughed at the growl John made as he glared
over his shoulder. When he turned back to pout at her
like a wounded two-year-old, she kissed his forehead
before getting out of his not-*quite*-resisting arms,
ignoring her own wish to hide under the covers and go
back to kissing and cuddling.
Crawling out of bed was a little slow as she moved
gingerly, definitely feeling the sorer for last night's
activities, though she tried to keep the two men from
noticing. Whether they reacted with guilt or machismo,
she didn't need to deal with it today. She wanted to get
the last of the negotiations done *before* nightfall and
*without* incident.
As she passed him, she got on tiptoe to kiss Ronon's
cheek, her hand on his chest for balance, not even
noticing his bare skin under her palm. "Thank you,
Ronon."
He watched her walk to the bathroom, trying to avoid
staring at her ass even as he was glad to see her
smiling. The woman worked far too hard with not nearly
enough reward. He turned back to the bed, hoping that
that might change after today, he was pretty tired
himself of watching their jerky 'courtship'. These
'Earthlings' were crazy.
John also watched Elizabeth walk away from him, trying
to stomp down the urge to punch the man who'd not only
interrupted them but had deserved himself a kiss. He
rolled his eyes at himself as she closed the door; yeah,
so much for keeping this fun and casual. Laying on his
back, he put his hands under his head; there was nothing
to do but daydream until she was done and he could have
his turn at the water. He was just starting to lose
himself in the memory of that kiss when he was reminded
of the other person in the room by Ronon's grunt, "Show
off."
He opened his eyes and turned to the man in surprise. It
took following his gaze to John's position on the bed
-flat on his back.. and still aroused- to realize what
the words meant and start to laugh. Hey, they'd saved
Atlantis and he'd gotten to kiss the woman he loved...
the small incidental details didn't matter; he was
feeling *good*. And if he somehow showed up his all too
impressive teammate for once, well, yay!
####
Elizabeth was beyond glad to watch the papers with their
new treaty being copied. Though it had only taken four
hours, she was sore enough that sitting still and
keeping a stoic face was getting to be a strain. That
wonderful hot bath this morning was too long ago; she
could only pray that the power modules she'd just
acquired would be enough to get water flowing freely in
her own bathroom soon. Tonight seemed too much to ask
for but- She refocused quickly as her new ally spoke in
the intergalactic idle tone of smalltalk.
"I was surprised to observe which of your guards is the
alpha, Dr. Weir of Atlantis."
Elizabeth blinked, feeling as though her face had caught
on fire but knowing it wasn't really and making sure to
choke any *further* reaction under a practised cloak. If
her voice was a little acerb, well, the idea that this
person had stared at her image as she made lo- *had
sex*, and *analyzed* her, *their*, behaviour.. was just
a *little* hard to take in stride, "Were you? He's
earned the position many times over and I've never
regretted my choice, Lady of Roklyx."
"Indeed. We may have to consider this notion that brains
can be worth more than brawn."
"Indeed." And if John ever heard of this conversation...
Her reach for the pen to sign the paper being handed to
her *was* calm.. but it was a near thing.
####
The palace had come to seem safe, in and of itself, so
they let Ronon accompany the clerk to get their modules
out of storage. The anticlimax of simply showing up at a
military supply counter and requisitioning their saving
grace as though it was a pair of replacement underwear
left Elizabeth lost in thought as she stared absently at
Ronon walking away from her and John.
"I owe Teyla an apology," As John watched, a discomfited
look crossed her face, "Though I'm damned if I know
how..."
He wondered how Teyla would react to knowing she'd been
so obvious in her feelings, and he understood
Elizabeth's worry. Not having any particular idea of his
own, he tried to reorient her thoughts, "What if it was
the other way around?" The way Elizabeth's eyes suddenly
snapped to him made his heart lift, knowing that the way
he felt wasn't one-sided. He grinned gently, ignoring
the little dance he was doing in the privacy of his own
mind at this repayment of the painful jealousy he'd felt
last night, "Would you want her to apologize?"
Elizabeth took a breath, trying to breathe out the
moment of possessive fury and put it to the use he'd
correctly foreseen, "No. *She*'s not the one who would
have to make it up to me."
The firm look she was giving him made John's brows jerk
up and his head tilt with slow understanding. Uh; good
to know. Not that he ever intended to *need* to know
*that*.. but still, if they were going to have a
relationship, he'd need every scrap of information about
Elizabeth-the-woman that he could get.
####
"Hey Ronon!"
The Runner turned at the call from his leader, hurrying
down the -finally brightly-lit- hall of Atlantis toward
him, "Yeah?"
He watched the older man fumble for words for a second,
ending with a frustrated look and his hand behind his
head, mumbling as he kept watch to make sure no one
approached them, "..In the course of conversation..
Elizabeth let drop that *we*'re the ones who have to do
the apologizing here.. just thought you might want to
know."
He gave the man a measuring look before nodding
thoughtfully, "Yeah. Kinda figured." *That* much seemed
a universal female trait; men are always at fault.
####
It took a full day for Rodney to get the new power
interfaced to Atlantis and the systems all adjusted to
work peacefully in their new energy matrix. Finally
crawling into a steaming bath, Elizabeth was willing to
forgive him for every rant and whine, simply for the
pleasure of finally warming her sore body. She was
beginning to think she'd really gone too long without
sex; it was ridiculous to take so long to recover! They
hadn't even done anything *that* strenuous.
Between getting up to speed on what had happened in the
city while they'd been away and then following up on the
slow installation of power, Elizabeth had avoided the
more private conversation she needed to have with Teyla,
right up until this evening. After Rodney had reported
to everyone that Atlantis was back up and running;
shield, fresh water and all, everyone had hurried out,
no doubt for showers of their own. She'd caught Teyla's
eye and the Athosian had wordlessly stayed behind until
they were alone.
Mindful of her own conclusion while talking to John, she
hadn't tried to explain or excuse. "I'm sorry, Teyla. I
*really* wish it could have all gone down differently-"
She'd cut off at the other woman's raised hand,
reassured at the smile, however forced, that she was
giving her.
"I understand, Elizabeth. I completely agree that it was
the only logical choice. You do not owe me an
explanation." Though she didn't deny the reason for the
apology. "It could not have been easy for you, either."
Thrown back to that moment when she'd frozen and John
had almost attacked, Elizabeth had grinned wryly, *able*
to smile about it now that they were safely home, "No,
not easy."
They'd looked at each other with sardonic understanding
of both their messed up personal lives before parting
ways.
Now, as the lavender-scented water soaked into her tense
body, Elizabeth found herself thinking of a different
moment. Sated and staring at her lover; and daydreaming.
Captain Neil and her team seemed to have taken the order
to be silent about their mission to heart, or at least
Elizabeth hadn't caught any smirks or sidelong looks
indicating that people knew what they'd been required to
get up to on that planet. Which left her with the choice
of what to include in her report. She couldn't very well
lie; if anyone else ever needed to deal with Roklyx,
they needed to be aware. She sighed, again circling back
to John. If she was going to have to report that she'd
slept with him -to save Atlantis!-.. could the damned
IOA really make a fuss about her having a relationship
with him?
It was a rhetorical question, knowing very well that,
yes, of course they could. The real question was whether
they'd leave her in charge of Atlantis, leave him as her
military commander, when they found out about even just
the mission. Considering some of the innuendo she'd
already had to fend off, she suspected they would simply
take this as proof they'd already been together and grab
the excuse to make as much trouble as they could.
So the question was, did she want to stand and fight
over having done her duty and then gone back to her
lonely life.. or did she want to claim the chance at
something more. She rather thought that the considering
looks John had been shooting her since they'd returned
was an indication of plans being made; of wishes he
wasn't willing to ignore anymore.
If he was willing to take the risk, she was at the point
that she'd had enough. Too many hints and rumours that
the forces-that-be were ready to take her down at any
time; and she didn't particularly think that whatever
was happening on Earth would change any of that. The
memory of the contentment on John's face as they'd
caught their breath was the final straw: Elizabeth stood
in the slowly cooling water, decision made, her stubborn
will reoriented to a new life path.
####
Ronon knelt on one knee, thinking of the strange paths
life took to lead you to the future. One arm extended
straight out before his bowed head, holding his phaser
perfectly still by the barrel, parallel to the ground,
he spoke solemnly, from his soul, "My arms and weapons,
yours to command. My heart and loyalty, bound to you."
The words were not of *his* past.
They were from the ways of the people of the woman who
had finally invited him to *evening* tea and now stood
before him, deciding which path he would be travelling
from here.
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