[fic] a storm on the wind; sga, jennifer/ronon; r
a storm on the wind, r
stargate: atlantis, jennifer/ronon; 1082
Jennifer has never been much of what you'd call an outdoorsy girl. So when she gets stuck off world with Ronon, no communication, and without a single civilization in sight, the words "don't panic" are pretty much lost on her.
She steels herself and Ronon can't help but laughing.
"You should see your face," he tells her, continues walking down the path.
Jennifer kicks him in the back of the leg, but this is Ronon and so it is a veritably useless act.
She swears his laugh, more of a bellow really, shakes the trees.
Okay, she tells herself. If there's anyone you want to be stuck with out here, it's this guy.
-
She has almost forgotten the long-abandoned tension between them, but when it starts to rain, water seeping into their makeshift shelter, and she ends up pressed tightly against his stiff body, both of them curled underneath the only corner of the roof that's still holding up, she has no choice to remember.
"Hey," Jennifer squeals when she feels him react to her. She pulls away. The freezing rain may be soaking through her clothes, but at least she still has her dignity.
"Oh will you relax and come here," Ronon pulls her to him again and she knows it's not worth resisting. "It's perfectly natural."
"Well, so is freezing to death but it's not a choice I would willingly make," Jennifer tells him, her lips pursed.
"Shut up," he insists, "just ignore it."
"Oh, god," Jennifer says. "Oh, god." Ronon is hard against her, and she is unable to avoid the awkwardness of the situation.
"You know, you're just turning me on," he tells her.
"Great," she groans, buries her face in his chest.
"Stop moving," he says. "You're making it worse."
After a while, she can feel him go slack against her and she breathes a sigh of relief.
"See that wasn't so bad, was it?" he tells her. "Although..."
"What?" She asks, annoyed now more than ever.
"We should really get these clothes off," he says, a note of seriousness in his tone.
Jennifer narrows her eyes.
"Not on your life."
-
She should have listened.
She's been coughing for two days and her fever has yet to break. Ronon doesn't point out that, as a doctor, she should have known better, he just listens to her instructions, finds the plants she describes for him, fetches her food and water.
They've moved into a nearby cave and she grumbles something about why they hadn't seen it there before.
Ronon ignores her, helps her find a soft place to rest so he can gather some things to make her more comfortable, a pallet to sleep on, wood for the fire, food for their bellies.
He sleeps on a pallet next to hers on the ground. Jennifer doesn't say it, but as she lies awake at night, listening to the slow and steady sound of his breathing, it makes her feel safe, makes her feel like maybe they'll get out of this.
-
"You're really great, you know," she tells him one night by the fire, her fever finally broken.
Ronon catches her eyes.
"In a crisis, I mean," she says.
"Thanks," he nods. "Comes from experience."
-
Ronon's not much for talking. Sometimes she swears that days pass before he utters a word to her.
When he cuts his hand one night, hunting down their dinner, he doesn't even speak to her when he comes back to the cave, trailing blood along the path as he walks. He just holds his hand out to her, lets her stitch him up.
Jennifer appreciates his silence. Sometimes there isn't much to say. Sometimes actions speak more than words.
After he's bandaged and cleaned, she kisses the back of his thumb.
Ronon's large hand comes to cup her cheek and he moves his fingers over her lips. Jennifer closes her eyes, waiting for whatever comes next. She only feels his warmth leave her, hears the sounds of him settling down to sleep.
Okay, she thinks. Okay.
-
One night, not long after, Jennifer is woken by a crack of thunder, the sound of heavy rainfall splattering outside the opening of their little shelter.
She scrambles over to him on the ground, presses herself to his side, shakes him awake. "Ronon! Ronon!" She calls his name.
He snaps awake, his hand going to his pistol. "What is it?" he asks.
"There's a storm," she explains. And all at once, one look at his his bemused expression, she realizes how ridiculous she sounds, drops her head to his shoulder.
Ronon relaxes, moves his hand from his gun to the back of her neck, can feel her laughing underneath his touch. After a moment her laughter subsides, but she doesn't move from his side, only leans closer. He can feel her lips press against his shoulder, and he reaches for her waist. He shifts her so that she's on top of him and hears her let out a little oh. He catches her lips in his mouth as she says it, slides his hands up her thighs and rests them on her waist. Jennifer leans into the kiss, opens her mouth for him, lets her hands slide over taught muscle.
She can feel him, now hard beneath her, but this time she doesn't pull away. This time she grinds herself over his cock, sucks in a breath with the friction of it. This time she lets him roll her over, helps him to peel their clothes off piece by piece, runs her hand over smooth skin.
She reaches for his pants, undoes the top, pushes them over his round ass. Ronon captures her mouth in a kiss, adjusts himself on top of her, reaches between them to push a finger inside her.
She gasps, her thighs falling open a little more, enough to allow him to rest his thighs where he needs to gain entry. He eases himself inside, gives her a moment to adjust to the size of him.
"Oh god," Jennifer keens, "Oh."
Ronon smiles, remembering the first time she said those words while pressed against him, a situation very different from this one. He moves on top of her, lets her set the pace with her hands resting at the curve of his waist, lets her guide his way.
It isn't long until the two are breathless and spent, the wetness of sex between them, the sound of the rain still pounding outside.
Ronon rolls to the side, careful not to collapse with his full weight against her.
"Well that was..." he starts.
"Perfectly natural," she says, grinning, reaches over to kiss him again.
-fin
stargate: atlantis, jennifer/ronon; 1082
Jennifer has never been much of what you'd call an outdoorsy girl. So when she gets stuck off world with Ronon, no communication, and without a single civilization in sight, the words "don't panic" are pretty much lost on her.
She steels herself and Ronon can't help but laughing.
"You should see your face," he tells her, continues walking down the path.
Jennifer kicks him in the back of the leg, but this is Ronon and so it is a veritably useless act.
She swears his laugh, more of a bellow really, shakes the trees.
Okay, she tells herself. If there's anyone you want to be stuck with out here, it's this guy.
-
She has almost forgotten the long-abandoned tension between them, but when it starts to rain, water seeping into their makeshift shelter, and she ends up pressed tightly against his stiff body, both of them curled underneath the only corner of the roof that's still holding up, she has no choice to remember.
"Hey," Jennifer squeals when she feels him react to her. She pulls away. The freezing rain may be soaking through her clothes, but at least she still has her dignity.
"Oh will you relax and come here," Ronon pulls her to him again and she knows it's not worth resisting. "It's perfectly natural."
"Well, so is freezing to death but it's not a choice I would willingly make," Jennifer tells him, her lips pursed.
"Shut up," he insists, "just ignore it."
"Oh, god," Jennifer says. "Oh, god." Ronon is hard against her, and she is unable to avoid the awkwardness of the situation.
"You know, you're just turning me on," he tells her.
"Great," she groans, buries her face in his chest.
"Stop moving," he says. "You're making it worse."
After a while, she can feel him go slack against her and she breathes a sigh of relief.
"See that wasn't so bad, was it?" he tells her. "Although..."
"What?" She asks, annoyed now more than ever.
"We should really get these clothes off," he says, a note of seriousness in his tone.
Jennifer narrows her eyes.
"Not on your life."
-
She should have listened.
She's been coughing for two days and her fever has yet to break. Ronon doesn't point out that, as a doctor, she should have known better, he just listens to her instructions, finds the plants she describes for him, fetches her food and water.
They've moved into a nearby cave and she grumbles something about why they hadn't seen it there before.
Ronon ignores her, helps her find a soft place to rest so he can gather some things to make her more comfortable, a pallet to sleep on, wood for the fire, food for their bellies.
He sleeps on a pallet next to hers on the ground. Jennifer doesn't say it, but as she lies awake at night, listening to the slow and steady sound of his breathing, it makes her feel safe, makes her feel like maybe they'll get out of this.
-
"You're really great, you know," she tells him one night by the fire, her fever finally broken.
Ronon catches her eyes.
"In a crisis, I mean," she says.
"Thanks," he nods. "Comes from experience."
-
Ronon's not much for talking. Sometimes she swears that days pass before he utters a word to her.
When he cuts his hand one night, hunting down their dinner, he doesn't even speak to her when he comes back to the cave, trailing blood along the path as he walks. He just holds his hand out to her, lets her stitch him up.
Jennifer appreciates his silence. Sometimes there isn't much to say. Sometimes actions speak more than words.
After he's bandaged and cleaned, she kisses the back of his thumb.
Ronon's large hand comes to cup her cheek and he moves his fingers over her lips. Jennifer closes her eyes, waiting for whatever comes next. She only feels his warmth leave her, hears the sounds of him settling down to sleep.
Okay, she thinks. Okay.
-
One night, not long after, Jennifer is woken by a crack of thunder, the sound of heavy rainfall splattering outside the opening of their little shelter.
She scrambles over to him on the ground, presses herself to his side, shakes him awake. "Ronon! Ronon!" She calls his name.
He snaps awake, his hand going to his pistol. "What is it?" he asks.
"There's a storm," she explains. And all at once, one look at his his bemused expression, she realizes how ridiculous she sounds, drops her head to his shoulder.
Ronon relaxes, moves his hand from his gun to the back of her neck, can feel her laughing underneath his touch. After a moment her laughter subsides, but she doesn't move from his side, only leans closer. He can feel her lips press against his shoulder, and he reaches for her waist. He shifts her so that she's on top of him and hears her let out a little oh. He catches her lips in his mouth as she says it, slides his hands up her thighs and rests them on her waist. Jennifer leans into the kiss, opens her mouth for him, lets her hands slide over taught muscle.
She can feel him, now hard beneath her, but this time she doesn't pull away. This time she grinds herself over his cock, sucks in a breath with the friction of it. This time she lets him roll her over, helps him to peel their clothes off piece by piece, runs her hand over smooth skin.
She reaches for his pants, undoes the top, pushes them over his round ass. Ronon captures her mouth in a kiss, adjusts himself on top of her, reaches between them to push a finger inside her.
She gasps, her thighs falling open a little more, enough to allow him to rest his thighs where he needs to gain entry. He eases himself inside, gives her a moment to adjust to the size of him.
"Oh god," Jennifer keens, "Oh."
Ronon smiles, remembering the first time she said those words while pressed against him, a situation very different from this one. He moves on top of her, lets her set the pace with her hands resting at the curve of his waist, lets her guide his way.
It isn't long until the two are breathless and spent, the wetness of sex between them, the sound of the rain still pounding outside.
Ronon rolls to the side, careful not to collapse with his full weight against her.
"Well that was..." he starts.
"Perfectly natural," she says, grinning, reaches over to kiss him again.
-fin