FIC: Monday Breaks the Dawn, Ronon/Rodney, R rating
Title: Monday Breaks the Dawn
Pairing: Ronon/Rodney
Series: Weekday Series, following Sunday's Child
Rating: R (or M for mature)
Notes: This happens after Sunday's Child and you should read that first, though it probably will make sense even if you don't.
Many thanks to inkscribe and garneteve for their beta skillz and encouragement. Also to sgatlantislight for some grammar advice.
I'm offering this as the pinchhit to Minnow for the Ronon Ficathon. I'm sorry that it took so long and it isn't exactly what you asked for . The third part will be, but I didn't want to make you wait too much longer. I had a personal tragedy that completely halted my writing for several weeks. I'm easing back into it with the help of the atlantis_reborn crew.
Monday Breaks the Dawn
by ankhmutes
Ronon resisted the urge to double-check his balsta. It was in the holster where it belonged and was working fine. He’d already checked it after retrieving it from the lab, and doing it again would make him look nervous. He wasn’t nervous. He didn’t get nervous. He thought about making sure that his pack had enough supplies in it for the mission.
It was a new pack, bought on Earth, made from a dull green, heavy material that resisted tearing and water. He had transferred his usual supplies from the old pack and it was possible that he had missed or forgotten something. He had restocked his basic medical supplies, added a few things that he had found in the shop that had sold him the pack - little pillows that heated up when you shook them, others that got cold if you snapped the tube in the middle, tubes that cleaned water as you drank through them.
He felt edgy, uncertain. Not really nervous, just not … right. He resisted the urge to dig through the pack. If he had forgotten something, he would just do without it. All he really needed to survive was a knife and he had several of them. Anything else was luxury.
He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms and tried look as if this were any other day.
It was the first mission they would take since returning from Earth with Carson’s body. The first they would take with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be there to patch them up if something went wrong -- Keller seemed smart enough, but he didn’t trust her yet. The first mission since he and McKay had found comfort in each other.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ronon woke suddenly, completely awake and alert. He scanned the room, identified it as safe, no threat, before he relaxed and lifted a hand to rub down his face and scratch at his beard. His other arm was pinned by Rodney’s warm body.
The movement didn’t wake his lover, who reacted only by pulling at him so they were closer again. Ronon’s shoulder felt suspiciously damp under the man’s jaw. He’d seen the scientist sleep before when they were on missions or he was injured in the infirmary. Even unconscious, McKay seemed stiff and defensive. When he slept, he tended to stay stay huddled in the middle of the bedding, somehow drawn in on himself, as if he were going to fall over the edge. This was new.
This morning, McKay was sprawled over the bed, over Ronon himself. His limbs were loose and relaxed, heavy in sleep and his face looked … not soft. Not childlike. No. But free from care, in a way the Satedan had not seen before. In a way he suspected few had. The thought pleased him, on one side of the coin, because he felt privileged. On the other side, it saddened him that McKay would have had so little ease in his life. It brought a wave of protectiveness over him and he wrapped both arms around the warm body in a gentle hug, placing a soft kiss on the sweaty temple.
Rodney woke at the movement, tightened his own arms and pressed a morning erection against his thigh. The answering pressure against his own wrung a moan from him.
“Morning,” The greeting was mouthed against his neck. It sounded wanton and uncertain at the same time. For all his smug arrogance in his work, the scientist had no confidence when it came to personal things. In spite of the evidence rubbing against his hip, the man sounded like he didn’t know if Ronon wanted him.
Words were deceptive, but action showed intent, as the saying went. Ronon slid his hands down the broad back, allowing the fingernails to scrape a little, until his hands cupped flexing buttocks. He rotated his own hips a bit, showing his lover his desire. A shuddering sigh answered.
McKay began to nip and lick his neck. He seemed especially fascinated by Ronon's rank marking before he pushed Ronon all the way onto his back and started to work his way down, teasing nipples and tasting the navel. When the warm, wet heat reached his erection, Ronon just dropped his head back and arched into it. He didn’t want to clutch his lover’s head, make him feel coerced. He did want to touch him, to show in some way that it wasn’t about taking, it wasn’t him just lying here getting done to. He settled his hands on Rodney’s firm biceps and gently stroked up and down, caressing even as he tried so hard not to thrust into the gentle suction. Rodney’s hands were on his hips, his thumbs moving in slow arcs and it all felt so good, so intimate that Ronon’s breath caught in his throat.
He lifted his head up. He wanted to see. Fine brown hair stuck up in all directions, mussed from sleep, lifting up and down so slowly. Rodney looked up, blue eyes dark with heat, mouth still stretched around the hard flesh. Ronon couldn’t help the rush of emotion that flooded him. His hand moved up to cradle Rodney’s jaw for a second, just brushing the skin, before he closed his eyes and laid back again.
Rodney continued the slow, lazy licks and gentle sucks. Every now and then he’d stop long enough to press a kiss against the nearest bit of skin - thigh, stomach or hip. It was the most tender mouthing anyone had ever given him. Ronon slid his hands down Rodney’s arms to clasp his hands, stopped at the last second by the bandage on one, which he grasped at the wrist instead. The tension built slowly and steadily, and Ronon squeezed the uninjured hand tightly in warning before the orgasm overcame him.
Another damp kiss to the thigh and Rodney sat back on his knees. His mouth was smug but his eyes darted up Ronon’s body and didn’t quite make it to his face. It took one tug to pull his lover on top of him and kiss him thoroughly, still cradled between his legs, full penis nestled against his own flaccid one.
“Lube is in the drawer,” Ronon stroked from flank to shoulder as he said it, offering.
“You’d … You’d let me do that?” There was surprise in his eyes, but the pupils widened with heat.
“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” And he let his knees fall out to the sides and pushed up with his hips.
The scramble for the lube and the eagerness Rodney showed as he applied it brought a smile to Ronon’s face. By the time his lover prepared him and eased inside, Ronon was half-hard again. They kissed as Rodney thrust smoothly -- long, wet, deep kisses that carried them through and over until they lay panting and sated.
Ronon lifted the bandaged hand and kissed the wrist. “You should get this looked at.”
Rodney’s mouth curved down and he opened it to argue.
“Please.” Ronon knew he was playing on his newfound closeness to the man, but in truth he wasn’t sure it would work.
“You fixed it. It’s, uh, fine.”
“Bandage is dirty.” He pointed out, reasonably. It was, the gauze spotted with lube and limp with sweat. “Besides, you need to wash.”
With a rueful look down their bodies, Rodney agreed and rolled off the bed. “Fine. Um, I could use help. Injured man here.” His expression was hopeful and he raised the burned hand as if to offer proof.
For seven years, bathing had been done in cold streams, always a hurried process and only done when necessary. His first act, when left alone in these rooms, had been to wash in blessedly hot water, lathering three times with the scented liquid he’d been given. Cleaning his hair had taken longer, but he had enjoyed the sheer luxury of being clean and warm at the same time.
Having company in the water was an added joy. Rodney supervised the removal of the gauze and Ronon’s attempts to wash his hair and body. The man moaned happily when his back was scrubbed and snapped when lather from his hair dripped into his face. When they stepped from the shower, Ronon dried him thoroughly and wrapped more gauze around the injured hand. Through it all, Rodney began to show his usual personality, though the comments lacked any real bite. It wasn’t the neutral, uncaring tone that had been present the last couple of weeks, nor the rude one he used in the labs. Instead, there was a layer of affection and humor under them.
Ronon was slipping on his boots, regretting that he hadn’t gotten replacements when he had the chance. Rodney was already fully dressed, toying with his radio earpiece, flipping it over in his hands as though inspecting it for the first time. He didn’t look up as he spoke.
“This … uh, I just. Look, can we keep this between us?”
Ronon paused with his second boot still half on and narrowed his eyes. Rodney looked up then and he couldn’t sort through the emotions displayed on the scientist’s face.
“It’s … new. And I don’t want to … not do this again, that isn’t it. And it isn’t that I’m ashamed or anything …”
Ronon raised his eyebrows at that, hoping the man would get to his point. He slid the boot on the rest of the way and stood.
“I … I mean, I’m assuming that you want to do this again, right? Not a one-time thing?” And his tone was so hopeful, the look on his face asking for reassurance, that Ronon moved in front of him and rested his hands on the man’s shoulders.
“Not a one-time thing,” he confirmed, and Rodney seemed to relax a little.
“Right, I just didn’t want to assume. Anyway, uh, it’s just, Sheppard will tease and Elizabeth will ask questions and Radek will smirk and … it’s too new, I just want to … bask … in it a bit first, you know? Until it feels more real.”
And Ronon understood. Understood that Rodney was afraid that the wonderful new thing might only be a dream. That it would disappear if you spoke of it or treated it too lightly; like freedom after seven years, like friendship after solitude, a safe place to sleep and enough to eat and someone to watch your back. Like warmth, after a lifetime of being cold.
So he pulled Rodney close to him, hugged him fiercely, nearly lifting him off his feet, and let him go with a pat on the cheek. “I can do that. For now.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Two days had passed and they were ready to head out on recon mission -- a planet said to be deserted, a place that might work to send some of the refugees that kept accumulating in the city.
It was no different than most of their other missions and he was ready. Teyla had been here waiting when he arrived. Rodney had left his room early this morning to give Radek instructions for his absence, instructions Ronon was sure he didn’t need.
Ronon wasn’t nervous. But he was unsure how the new bond between himself and Rodney would affect the team and the way things worked between them all, and he understood a bit more why Rodney wanted to keep quiet for now.
Sheppard and Rodney entered the room, bickering companionably. Jason Miller was a good fighter, so whoever Freddy was would have to be pretty good to take him, as Sheppard was claiming he could.
Ronon felt warmth steal over him at Rodney’s voice, and shot him a smile when their eyes met. He got a crooked grin in return.
The mission would go well, hopefully, and they could spend the evening caring for each other.
end
Pairing: Ronon/Rodney
Series: Weekday Series, following Sunday's Child
Rating: R (or M for mature)
Notes: This happens after Sunday's Child and you should read that first, though it probably will make sense even if you don't.
Many thanks to inkscribe and garneteve for their beta skillz and encouragement. Also to sgatlantislight for some grammar advice.
I'm offering this as the pinchhit to Minnow for the Ronon Ficathon. I'm sorry that it took so long and it isn't exactly what you asked for . The third part will be, but I didn't want to make you wait too much longer. I had a personal tragedy that completely halted my writing for several weeks. I'm easing back into it with the help of the atlantis_reborn crew.
Monday Breaks the Dawn
by ankhmutes
Ronon resisted the urge to double-check his balsta. It was in the holster where it belonged and was working fine. He’d already checked it after retrieving it from the lab, and doing it again would make him look nervous. He wasn’t nervous. He didn’t get nervous. He thought about making sure that his pack had enough supplies in it for the mission.
It was a new pack, bought on Earth, made from a dull green, heavy material that resisted tearing and water. He had transferred his usual supplies from the old pack and it was possible that he had missed or forgotten something. He had restocked his basic medical supplies, added a few things that he had found in the shop that had sold him the pack - little pillows that heated up when you shook them, others that got cold if you snapped the tube in the middle, tubes that cleaned water as you drank through them.
He felt edgy, uncertain. Not really nervous, just not … right. He resisted the urge to dig through the pack. If he had forgotten something, he would just do without it. All he really needed to survive was a knife and he had several of them. Anything else was luxury.
He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms and tried look as if this were any other day.
It was the first mission they would take since returning from Earth with Carson’s body. The first they would take with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be there to patch them up if something went wrong -- Keller seemed smart enough, but he didn’t trust her yet. The first mission since he and McKay had found comfort in each other.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ronon woke suddenly, completely awake and alert. He scanned the room, identified it as safe, no threat, before he relaxed and lifted a hand to rub down his face and scratch at his beard. His other arm was pinned by Rodney’s warm body.
The movement didn’t wake his lover, who reacted only by pulling at him so they were closer again. Ronon’s shoulder felt suspiciously damp under the man’s jaw. He’d seen the scientist sleep before when they were on missions or he was injured in the infirmary. Even unconscious, McKay seemed stiff and defensive. When he slept, he tended to stay stay huddled in the middle of the bedding, somehow drawn in on himself, as if he were going to fall over the edge. This was new.
This morning, McKay was sprawled over the bed, over Ronon himself. His limbs were loose and relaxed, heavy in sleep and his face looked … not soft. Not childlike. No. But free from care, in a way the Satedan had not seen before. In a way he suspected few had. The thought pleased him, on one side of the coin, because he felt privileged. On the other side, it saddened him that McKay would have had so little ease in his life. It brought a wave of protectiveness over him and he wrapped both arms around the warm body in a gentle hug, placing a soft kiss on the sweaty temple.
Rodney woke at the movement, tightened his own arms and pressed a morning erection against his thigh. The answering pressure against his own wrung a moan from him.
“Morning,” The greeting was mouthed against his neck. It sounded wanton and uncertain at the same time. For all his smug arrogance in his work, the scientist had no confidence when it came to personal things. In spite of the evidence rubbing against his hip, the man sounded like he didn’t know if Ronon wanted him.
Words were deceptive, but action showed intent, as the saying went. Ronon slid his hands down the broad back, allowing the fingernails to scrape a little, until his hands cupped flexing buttocks. He rotated his own hips a bit, showing his lover his desire. A shuddering sigh answered.
McKay began to nip and lick his neck. He seemed especially fascinated by Ronon's rank marking before he pushed Ronon all the way onto his back and started to work his way down, teasing nipples and tasting the navel. When the warm, wet heat reached his erection, Ronon just dropped his head back and arched into it. He didn’t want to clutch his lover’s head, make him feel coerced. He did want to touch him, to show in some way that it wasn’t about taking, it wasn’t him just lying here getting done to. He settled his hands on Rodney’s firm biceps and gently stroked up and down, caressing even as he tried so hard not to thrust into the gentle suction. Rodney’s hands were on his hips, his thumbs moving in slow arcs and it all felt so good, so intimate that Ronon’s breath caught in his throat.
He lifted his head up. He wanted to see. Fine brown hair stuck up in all directions, mussed from sleep, lifting up and down so slowly. Rodney looked up, blue eyes dark with heat, mouth still stretched around the hard flesh. Ronon couldn’t help the rush of emotion that flooded him. His hand moved up to cradle Rodney’s jaw for a second, just brushing the skin, before he closed his eyes and laid back again.
Rodney continued the slow, lazy licks and gentle sucks. Every now and then he’d stop long enough to press a kiss against the nearest bit of skin - thigh, stomach or hip. It was the most tender mouthing anyone had ever given him. Ronon slid his hands down Rodney’s arms to clasp his hands, stopped at the last second by the bandage on one, which he grasped at the wrist instead. The tension built slowly and steadily, and Ronon squeezed the uninjured hand tightly in warning before the orgasm overcame him.
Another damp kiss to the thigh and Rodney sat back on his knees. His mouth was smug but his eyes darted up Ronon’s body and didn’t quite make it to his face. It took one tug to pull his lover on top of him and kiss him thoroughly, still cradled between his legs, full penis nestled against his own flaccid one.
“Lube is in the drawer,” Ronon stroked from flank to shoulder as he said it, offering.
“You’d … You’d let me do that?” There was surprise in his eyes, but the pupils widened with heat.
“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” And he let his knees fall out to the sides and pushed up with his hips.
The scramble for the lube and the eagerness Rodney showed as he applied it brought a smile to Ronon’s face. By the time his lover prepared him and eased inside, Ronon was half-hard again. They kissed as Rodney thrust smoothly -- long, wet, deep kisses that carried them through and over until they lay panting and sated.
Ronon lifted the bandaged hand and kissed the wrist. “You should get this looked at.”
Rodney’s mouth curved down and he opened it to argue.
“Please.” Ronon knew he was playing on his newfound closeness to the man, but in truth he wasn’t sure it would work.
“You fixed it. It’s, uh, fine.”
“Bandage is dirty.” He pointed out, reasonably. It was, the gauze spotted with lube and limp with sweat. “Besides, you need to wash.”
With a rueful look down their bodies, Rodney agreed and rolled off the bed. “Fine. Um, I could use help. Injured man here.” His expression was hopeful and he raised the burned hand as if to offer proof.
For seven years, bathing had been done in cold streams, always a hurried process and only done when necessary. His first act, when left alone in these rooms, had been to wash in blessedly hot water, lathering three times with the scented liquid he’d been given. Cleaning his hair had taken longer, but he had enjoyed the sheer luxury of being clean and warm at the same time.
Having company in the water was an added joy. Rodney supervised the removal of the gauze and Ronon’s attempts to wash his hair and body. The man moaned happily when his back was scrubbed and snapped when lather from his hair dripped into his face. When they stepped from the shower, Ronon dried him thoroughly and wrapped more gauze around the injured hand. Through it all, Rodney began to show his usual personality, though the comments lacked any real bite. It wasn’t the neutral, uncaring tone that had been present the last couple of weeks, nor the rude one he used in the labs. Instead, there was a layer of affection and humor under them.
Ronon was slipping on his boots, regretting that he hadn’t gotten replacements when he had the chance. Rodney was already fully dressed, toying with his radio earpiece, flipping it over in his hands as though inspecting it for the first time. He didn’t look up as he spoke.
“This … uh, I just. Look, can we keep this between us?”
Ronon paused with his second boot still half on and narrowed his eyes. Rodney looked up then and he couldn’t sort through the emotions displayed on the scientist’s face.
“It’s … new. And I don’t want to … not do this again, that isn’t it. And it isn’t that I’m ashamed or anything …”
Ronon raised his eyebrows at that, hoping the man would get to his point. He slid the boot on the rest of the way and stood.
“I … I mean, I’m assuming that you want to do this again, right? Not a one-time thing?” And his tone was so hopeful, the look on his face asking for reassurance, that Ronon moved in front of him and rested his hands on the man’s shoulders.
“Not a one-time thing,” he confirmed, and Rodney seemed to relax a little.
“Right, I just didn’t want to assume. Anyway, uh, it’s just, Sheppard will tease and Elizabeth will ask questions and Radek will smirk and … it’s too new, I just want to … bask … in it a bit first, you know? Until it feels more real.”
And Ronon understood. Understood that Rodney was afraid that the wonderful new thing might only be a dream. That it would disappear if you spoke of it or treated it too lightly; like freedom after seven years, like friendship after solitude, a safe place to sleep and enough to eat and someone to watch your back. Like warmth, after a lifetime of being cold.
So he pulled Rodney close to him, hugged him fiercely, nearly lifting him off his feet, and let him go with a pat on the cheek. “I can do that. For now.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Two days had passed and they were ready to head out on recon mission -- a planet said to be deserted, a place that might work to send some of the refugees that kept accumulating in the city.
It was no different than most of their other missions and he was ready. Teyla had been here waiting when he arrived. Rodney had left his room early this morning to give Radek instructions for his absence, instructions Ronon was sure he didn’t need.
Ronon wasn’t nervous. But he was unsure how the new bond between himself and Rodney would affect the team and the way things worked between them all, and he understood a bit more why Rodney wanted to keep quiet for now.
Sheppard and Rodney entered the room, bickering companionably. Jason Miller was a good fighter, so whoever Freddy was would have to be pretty good to take him, as Sheppard was claiming he could.
Ronon felt warmth steal over him at Rodney’s voice, and shot him a smile when their eyes met. He got a crooked grin in return.
The mission would go well, hopefully, and they could spend the evening caring for each other.
end