FIC: It's What You Do With It (SGA; Ronon/John; NC-17)
Title: It's What You Do With It
Author: darkrosetiger
Fandom: SGA
Pairings/Characters: Ronon/John
Archive:choc_fic; all others please ask.
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~1,260 words
Summary: John has a competence kink; Ronon's very good with a gun.
Spoilers: Very slight one for "Sunday".
Disclaimer: Not my boys, used very much without permission.
Notes: Written for the Characters of Color Fic Fest. Prompt: Stargate: Atlantis, Ronon/Sheppard: gun fetishization - "lying with his eyes while his hands are busy". It's only 9:34 Pacific Time, so it's still the 8th.
Despite what most people probably assumed, John Sheppard wasn't really a size queen, and his fascination with Ronon's gun wasn't because it was big, but because it was just so cool. Ronon's gun was the sort of thing John had imagined when Elizabeth first talked to him about going on a space mission, with actual aliens. With Ronon's gun you could say things like, "Set phasers to stun!" and mean it. It was like Han Solo's blaster, a comparison that John thought was perfect since, like Han, Ronon was just inherently cool. John liked to watch him, long fingers wrapped around the grip as he held it steady, as though his gun were an extension of his arm.
It never occurred to John that at some point, Ronon's gun might stop working.
"It is actually a very clever mechanism," Zelenka said, pushing his glasses up on his nose as Ronon glared down at him. "The battery is almost like a small ZPM....but like a ZPM, eventually, it will cease to operate."
"Where did you get it from, anyway? I mean, for this galaxy Sateda was pretty high tech, but--" Rodney broke off abruptly when John elbowed him in the ribs a little harder than was probably necessary.
A corner of Ronon's mouth turned up in what John recognized as his version of the standard "that's just Rodney" look; everyone who spent more than a week on Atlantis picked up one of those.
"I found it when I was Running," Ronon told Rodney, "and yeah, I remember where--it was early on, when I was still using the list of addresses we'd had to memorize. That was the only one that still worked, though."
"Even so, it may be useful," Zelenka said, "but for now, we can maybe reverse-engineer it to use a different power source. But it will take time--two weeks at least."
"You can use a P-90 in the meantime," John said, clapping Ronon on the shoulder. Ronon gave him a look. John could understand; his gun wasn't half as cool as Ronon's, but if he'd had to use something else, it would be like having to use a substitute--
Okay, no, Sheppard. Do not go there. It'll just be trouble, and you know it.
A little later, John found himself wandering by the firing range. Ronon was filling a paper target with holes. The 9 mm should have looked absurd in those big hands, but John wasn't feeling like laughing any more than he had the first time he'd seen Ronon shoot, when he'd realized how much he wanted the man.
On my team. That's all. Over a year later, he still couldn't quite make himself believe that.
Ronon looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Problem?"
"No. No problem." John decided that the time was right for a strategic retreat and fled back to his quarters. An hour later, John was in bed reading when the door opened and Ronon walked in.
"There's this thing we do on Earth--it's called knocking--"
"I've seen you watching me." John shut up.
"Ever since I came to Atlantis. I figured it was because you were testing me at first. But then..." Ronon shrugged.
"What can I say? I admire competence, especially in a member of my team." John tugged the blanket up over his lap. Ronon noticed, of course, and smirked for a moment before his expression changed to something that made him look younger and more vulnerable.
"I never had sex with Kell," he said, sounding thoughtful.
"He was your commanding officer--I should hope you didn't!"
Ronon shrugged again. "It was different. It wasn't encouraged....but it wasn't forbidden, either. It happened a lot; your taskmaster was the person you were closer to than anyone else. With Kell, though...I never felt that comfortable with him, if that makes any sense. Even before. I didn't trust him, and I don't think he trusted me."
"I trust you," John said.
"I know." Ronon tugged the 9 mm out of his thigh holster as smoothly as if it were his own gun, turning it over in his hands. "And like I said, I've seen the way you look at me. So I couldn't figure out why you never did anything. Then I heard about all of the rules you guys have, and I figured that must be it."
"Ronon, look--I don't know what you're thinking, but--"
He'd wondered sometimes if Ronon had always been able to move so quickly and almost silently, or if he'd learned that when he was Running, but at the moment all John was aware of was the warm, solid body that was suddenly in his space, up close enough to touch. "Tell me you don't want this. I'll go, and I'll never mention it again."
"I can't--"
"That's not what I asked." Ronon moved closer still, and covered John's mouth with his. John might have thought he'd dozed off just after an especially hot jackoff session except that he was all too aware of the scratchiness of Ronon's beard against his skin and the gun, still in Ronon's other hand, pressing against the small of his back.
John pulled back and forced himself to meet Ronon's eyes. "I don't want to have sex with you," he said, sounding less confident than he had about anything since he said "I do" in front of an Elvis impersonator in Vegas.
Ronon narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."
"Yeah," John told him. He slid his arms around Ronon's waist and kissed him again, hard. "I shouldn't do this. You're on my team, and technically, I'm responsible for you."
"Do you people always go through all of this, just to fuck?" Ronon was taking his shirt off, and John was finding it next to impossible to stand his ground.
"It can be complicated--"
"Doesn't have to be." Ronon kissed the side of John's neck, tugging the sheet down with his other hand. John didn't stop him, even when he wrapped those long fingers around John's dick.
"Nice," Ronon muttered, sliding his thumb along the top, following the slight curve. John shifted so he could touch Ronon back, stroking his dick--which yes, was proportional, and uncut, which was a little weird for John. After that, there was nothing he could do but slide down between Ronon's legs and nuzzle just under his hip.
"Not sure I remember how to do this," he said, but that was another lie because you never forgot the taste and feel of another man in your mouth, especially not when memories were all you had because you couldn't get away with that kind of thing any more, not in your position. John couldn't help feeling a little smug at the gasp Ronon made and the way he arched his back when John took him in all the way on the first go. Then it was his turn to squirm when Ronon petted his hair, stroking it so gently it almost tickled, like he was afraid John might break. It was maddening, and it was getting him incredibly hot. John didn't even mind when Ronon came quickly enough to remind him that despite everything, Ronon was still pretty young, because he shoved John over onto his back and took him in one hand with the same practiced ease that he held a gun. John damn near levitated off the bed when he came; he was grateful that the Ancients apparently believed in soundproofing.
Size didn't matter--but it was sometimes a nice bonus.
Author: darkrosetiger
Fandom: SGA
Pairings/Characters: Ronon/John
Archive:choc_fic; all others please ask.
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~1,260 words
Summary: John has a competence kink; Ronon's very good with a gun.
Spoilers: Very slight one for "Sunday".
Disclaimer: Not my boys, used very much without permission.
Notes: Written for the Characters of Color Fic Fest. Prompt: Stargate: Atlantis, Ronon/Sheppard: gun fetishization - "lying with his eyes while his hands are busy". It's only 9:34 Pacific Time, so it's still the 8th.
Despite what most people probably assumed, John Sheppard wasn't really a size queen, and his fascination with Ronon's gun wasn't because it was big, but because it was just so cool. Ronon's gun was the sort of thing John had imagined when Elizabeth first talked to him about going on a space mission, with actual aliens. With Ronon's gun you could say things like, "Set phasers to stun!" and mean it. It was like Han Solo's blaster, a comparison that John thought was perfect since, like Han, Ronon was just inherently cool. John liked to watch him, long fingers wrapped around the grip as he held it steady, as though his gun were an extension of his arm.
It never occurred to John that at some point, Ronon's gun might stop working.
"It is actually a very clever mechanism," Zelenka said, pushing his glasses up on his nose as Ronon glared down at him. "The battery is almost like a small ZPM....but like a ZPM, eventually, it will cease to operate."
"Where did you get it from, anyway? I mean, for this galaxy Sateda was pretty high tech, but--" Rodney broke off abruptly when John elbowed him in the ribs a little harder than was probably necessary.
A corner of Ronon's mouth turned up in what John recognized as his version of the standard "that's just Rodney" look; everyone who spent more than a week on Atlantis picked up one of those.
"I found it when I was Running," Ronon told Rodney, "and yeah, I remember where--it was early on, when I was still using the list of addresses we'd had to memorize. That was the only one that still worked, though."
"Even so, it may be useful," Zelenka said, "but for now, we can maybe reverse-engineer it to use a different power source. But it will take time--two weeks at least."
"You can use a P-90 in the meantime," John said, clapping Ronon on the shoulder. Ronon gave him a look. John could understand; his gun wasn't half as cool as Ronon's, but if he'd had to use something else, it would be like having to use a substitute--
Okay, no, Sheppard. Do not go there. It'll just be trouble, and you know it.
A little later, John found himself wandering by the firing range. Ronon was filling a paper target with holes. The 9 mm should have looked absurd in those big hands, but John wasn't feeling like laughing any more than he had the first time he'd seen Ronon shoot, when he'd realized how much he wanted the man.
On my team. That's all. Over a year later, he still couldn't quite make himself believe that.
Ronon looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Problem?"
"No. No problem." John decided that the time was right for a strategic retreat and fled back to his quarters. An hour later, John was in bed reading when the door opened and Ronon walked in.
"There's this thing we do on Earth--it's called knocking--"
"I've seen you watching me." John shut up.
"Ever since I came to Atlantis. I figured it was because you were testing me at first. But then..." Ronon shrugged.
"What can I say? I admire competence, especially in a member of my team." John tugged the blanket up over his lap. Ronon noticed, of course, and smirked for a moment before his expression changed to something that made him look younger and more vulnerable.
"I never had sex with Kell," he said, sounding thoughtful.
"He was your commanding officer--I should hope you didn't!"
Ronon shrugged again. "It was different. It wasn't encouraged....but it wasn't forbidden, either. It happened a lot; your taskmaster was the person you were closer to than anyone else. With Kell, though...I never felt that comfortable with him, if that makes any sense. Even before. I didn't trust him, and I don't think he trusted me."
"I trust you," John said.
"I know." Ronon tugged the 9 mm out of his thigh holster as smoothly as if it were his own gun, turning it over in his hands. "And like I said, I've seen the way you look at me. So I couldn't figure out why you never did anything. Then I heard about all of the rules you guys have, and I figured that must be it."
"Ronon, look--I don't know what you're thinking, but--"
He'd wondered sometimes if Ronon had always been able to move so quickly and almost silently, or if he'd learned that when he was Running, but at the moment all John was aware of was the warm, solid body that was suddenly in his space, up close enough to touch. "Tell me you don't want this. I'll go, and I'll never mention it again."
"I can't--"
"That's not what I asked." Ronon moved closer still, and covered John's mouth with his. John might have thought he'd dozed off just after an especially hot jackoff session except that he was all too aware of the scratchiness of Ronon's beard against his skin and the gun, still in Ronon's other hand, pressing against the small of his back.
John pulled back and forced himself to meet Ronon's eyes. "I don't want to have sex with you," he said, sounding less confident than he had about anything since he said "I do" in front of an Elvis impersonator in Vegas.
Ronon narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."
"Yeah," John told him. He slid his arms around Ronon's waist and kissed him again, hard. "I shouldn't do this. You're on my team, and technically, I'm responsible for you."
"Do you people always go through all of this, just to fuck?" Ronon was taking his shirt off, and John was finding it next to impossible to stand his ground.
"It can be complicated--"
"Doesn't have to be." Ronon kissed the side of John's neck, tugging the sheet down with his other hand. John didn't stop him, even when he wrapped those long fingers around John's dick.
"Nice," Ronon muttered, sliding his thumb along the top, following the slight curve. John shifted so he could touch Ronon back, stroking his dick--which yes, was proportional, and uncut, which was a little weird for John. After that, there was nothing he could do but slide down between Ronon's legs and nuzzle just under his hip.
"Not sure I remember how to do this," he said, but that was another lie because you never forgot the taste and feel of another man in your mouth, especially not when memories were all you had because you couldn't get away with that kind of thing any more, not in your position. John couldn't help feeling a little smug at the gasp Ronon made and the way he arched his back when John took him in all the way on the first go. Then it was his turn to squirm when Ronon petted his hair, stroking it so gently it almost tickled, like he was afraid John might break. It was maddening, and it was getting him incredibly hot. John didn't even mind when Ronon came quickly enough to remind him that despite everything, Ronon was still pretty young, because he shoved John over onto his back and took him in one hand with the same practiced ease that he held a gun. John damn near levitated off the bed when he came; he was grateful that the Ancients apparently believed in soundproofing.
Size didn't matter--but it was sometimes a nice bonus.