Tuesday: YA Book Titles
Gooooood morning/afternoon/evening/whenever you're reading this, ladies and germs. I’m your host for this week writinchica2k and today's theme is based on Young Adult book titles, be they the bestsellers of today (Goodreads, Amazon, and Wikipedia are good starting points for inspiration), or if you're a nostalgic old fogey like me the cheesy classics of the 70s
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"No one can know," David said, low and vicious. Then he stepped around Ronon and walked away.
Again, foolishly, Ronon thought that was that.
And then Lorne went missing. Presumed dead. Turned out, the Genii had taken him. Word spread across the city when he was found safe and sound, and Ronon wondered how no one realized what was going on when David was one of the ones who visited Lorne in the infirmary. Yes, the rest of Lorne's gate team was there, but David stood closest, stayed longest. Ronon, still feeling guilty over upsetting Lorne (who wouldn't look at him for days and he'd missed those blue eyes) those months ago, eventually herded everyone else out of the infirmary so David and Lorne could be alone. He turned to go, but David caught his arm.
Lorne was dozing, but David kept his voice low anyway.
"Meet me in my quarters once they release him," he said.
Ronon suspected this was going to be a terrible idea, but he nodded, because he'd missed those blue eyes, and it had been so long since he'd even been near anyone like that, and once Lorne had been able to meet his gaze again, he'd been nothing but nice. Asked about Sateda sometimes.
Ronon wasn't sure what he expected. Should have expected David's commanding air. So he obeyed orders, sat on the bed, and waited. Watched. Lorne stumbled through the door into the dimness, exhaustion writ in every line of his body. He toed off his boots and shed his shirt and stepped into David's embrace for a desperate kiss, a reassurance. I'm home. You're home. We're safe. David turned them, walked them toward the bed, and Lorne sat abruptly when the mattress hit the backs of his knees. David raised his head from the kiss, nodded at Ronon, and leaned down to kiss Lorne once more. So Ronon eased forward, rested his hands lightly on Lorne's waist, felt him start.
"What? David -" Lorne twisted around, wide-eyed when he saw Ronon.
"It's all right, Evan."
"But -"
"You need this. I always give you what you need," David said, and he ran his hands up Lorne's chest, made his breath hitch.
Ronon took his cue and leaned in, captured Lorne's mouth. What happened after that was a pleasant, hazy blur, hands tangling as they undressed each other, limbs tangling as they lay back on the bed. Ronon learned skin and scent and sensation, the way Lorne's skin flushed as he neared his peak, the way David melted when someone kissed that spot just behind his ear, the way his own heart soared when he and David moved with Lorne between them.
In the morning, it should have been awkward, the end of one night's desperation, but David opened his eyes and grinned and then he made the first move, tangled a hand in Ronon's dreadlocks and dragged him in for a kiss, and suddenly Ronon had a place, had a home.
They all kept their own quarters, went about their duties with a scrupulousness Ronon's old superior officers would've found incredible, but whenever they needed each other, they could seek each other out, in twos or threes as they chose, and Ronon learned the joy of painting (and being painted on) and how fun sex could be after he'd ingested the right kind of plant leaves and that finally, it was okay to stop running, it was okay to stay.
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