Title: Enigma
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Ronon/John
Rating: R for slash and bad language
Summary: After the events of Sateda, John needs to vent a little frustration.



"What the hell were you thinking back there?"


John braces himself against the wall and grunts, Ronon's vicious grip on his side reminding him of a bruise he'd almost forgotten. They're the only people outside the research team wired enough to be awake at this hour without good reason to stay up, although in their case it isn't coffee making sleep look more like a luxury than a necessity.

Good job that the others aren't awake anyway, given Ronon wasn't exactly picky about slamming him up against the corridor wall instead of finding a room first. Sure, the impatience is hot, but it's still inconvienient.


"I had to watch him die."


Each thrust burns like hell, although he had to be grateful that he'd at least managed to persuade Ronon to dig the lube out of his backpack and make a rush job of slicking himself up, but Ronon's a generous guy with the reacharound even if he keeps biting down.

Yeah, even through the shirt, that's gonna leave bruises.


"Did you have to get the crap beaten out of you first? In fact, while we're at it, how come I can't help out hand to hand but Beckett's allowed to blow the bastard up?"


Good job they're doing this standing up because Ronon is pure muscle, six and a half or something feet of it, and his weight would be kind of intimidating without a wall for support. Still, John's not complaining, much - Ronon's gorgeous in a full-on primal way where John's been used to spit-and-polish marines and gym queens beforehand, isn't normally too interested in fit men on account. They're either as damaged as him or too shallow to bear.

Ronon, Teyla and Rodney keep turning his world upside down, usually for the better, but it'd be nice if they didn't keep nearly getting themselves killed all the damn time.


"Beckett thought he was doing me a favour. You would've known better."


There's a growl behind him before teeth clamp down around his neck, facial hair scratching the bare skin, and there's a rush of adrenaline and instinctive panic at that before his brain sees fit to fill in the gaps, tells him what it reminds him of. A lion with its prey.

He chokes on his own cry as he comes, Ronon not bothering to soothe the bite marks with his tongue.


"Better? I didn't want you to die! Excuse me for giving a da-"




Ronon finishes not long after and John wonders if he'll ever find a decent excuse for stubble-rash on places his own mouth can't reach. Doesn't matter, really. He leans against the wall heavily while he gets his breath back and enough energy to consider the walk back to his room, figures Ronon can deal with the clean up.

"You're still an idiot," He says, continuation of the argument that had led to this. Something John's got in common with Rodney; you can never really shut him up, just distract him for a minute.

Ronon doesn't respond, but John can feel that enigmatic half-smile against his neck. Forget the Mona Lisa, Leonardo da Vinci would've creamed his pants over this guy.

"And a dick. Don't forget a dick," John adds before wincing and wishing he'd thought a little more about how those words would sound on the way out.

Ronon keeps his chuckles to himself.

"Don't you ever scare me, us, like that again," John finishes, making sure he's got Ronon's eye contact for that one because he means it. He means it. If Ronon ever pulls a trick like that again...

Well, truth be told, John would probably do the same thing. But he still reserves the right to be angry about it.

"You finished?" Ronon asks, still smirking, completely ignoring any questions John left under the surface. He knows. And certain things, even if they're well known, are a lot less messy when left unsaid.

"Yeah, I'm done." It's enough to get the conversation out of their systems for now instead of stewing over it for the next few days, though John swears, he's going to wind up spaying Ronon if he gets caught by the wraith again. "Same time next week, huh?"

Ronon grins and delivers a smack that makes John figure maybe next month would be a better idea, but it's affectionate enough.

Ronon might have the worst past of all of them, but he's chased by the least shadows.