Fandom (Pairing) – Rating: SGA (John/Ronon) – Adult
Word count: ~735
Summary: Ronon knows exactly what John needs.
AN: Contains D/s themes, mild bondage. Thanks to leela_cat for the rapid fast beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
"Know what you need, Sheppard?"
"I'm sure you're gonna tell me, big guy."
Ronon circles John silently, knowing the absolute quiet will push the tension level higher and, in the end, make the release sweeter. When John finally twitches, Ronon makes his move.
"On the bed. Hands and knees, ass high." He keeps his voice pitched low, his words clear and concise.
John moves without comment, not for the first time but it's still new enough to send a thrill up Ronon's spine.
Ronon reaches a hand out, petting John while he offers praise for the progress. "Nice."
"Ever thought of letting someone else have control?"
"Taking orders isn't really my thing, Ronon."
With a hand warming the small of John's back, Ronon murmurs, "Let it go, John."
Sheppard belongs to Pegasus, Atlantis, the USAF. But John, in here, behind closed doors, John belongs to Ronon alone. And it is a distinction that has to be made every single time. Like the sounding of the gun, the playing of the anthem... it's the beginning, the signal that starts John's descent.
John drops his head down, his cheek brushing against the soft Athosian blanket, and sighs.
This, John's first relaxing breath, isn't as new as the quiet acceptance. It has been there since the early days, the times when John and Ronon both lived behind the facade of 'stress relief' and 'friends with benefits.'
The normalcy of the act doesn't stop Ronon's chest from tightening with emotion. Just like each time before, it's now when Ronon vows to be everything John needs – master, lover, friend – and more.
"It's not about orders, Sheppard. It's about relaxing, finding your center again."
Ronon maps John's body, cataloging the bruises and scrapes from their latest mission with teeth and tongue, fingers and hands. He will not complain about them. The missions are Sheppard's domain. But he has to acknowledge them, sooth them, claim them.
To do less is unacceptable, is a slight against the very thing that drew him to John.
John whimpers. It's his tell. A soft, choked sound that escapes only after he stops fighting, stops holding on to the shield of being Atlantis' military commander. John whimpers, but he obeys, rolling onto his back, his eyes closed and his body open.
Ronon slides leather cuffs from beneath the pillows. Custom-made by Teyla, not that John knows she has unearthed their secret.
"Gimme your wrists, John."
"It's to keep you still, make you focus on the sensation."
"And if I freak?"
"You won't. I'll be right here with you."
John is stretched the length of the bed, dark leather and black rope holding his arms above his head and his legs spread wide. Ronon kisses him, a chaste brush of lips against John's temple, and slides a blindfold into place.
"Feel me, John?"
John groans and nods and makes a futile attempt to rock his hips.
And Ronon knows that John has finally slipped completely under. A satisfied smile curls the edges of his lips.
Ronon keeps his hands moving over John's body, easy and lingering. His touches never hurt, never add to the evidence of John's job. Never hurting, always kneading away aches and pains, teasing nipples and cock, flitting lower until fingers slowly delve deeper, opening, preparing John to take Ronon's heavy dick.
When John's mouth opens, when he silently starts forming words like please and more and god, Ronon slicks his cock and pushes in.
"I don't know, big guy. I mean, being that open, that exposed."
"Do you trust me?"
The rope is coiled on the floor, the blindfold is on the side table, and Ronon reaches for the cuffs. John shakes his head, pulls his hands away, and looks at Ronon, eyes blown and glassy and full of muted pleading.
"It's okay, John," Ronon whispers. "You can keep 'em, on for now."
He tugs John in against his chest, his hands running continuously over John's back.
"Just rest. I'll keep watch."
And in the darkness, Ronon holds John to him, his eyes drifting to the windows and out over the ocean. He'll wait until the sun peeks over the horizon and then, after waking John, he'll slip away and meet Sheppard for breakfast in the mess.
Because Ronon knows that's what John needs.