(no subject)
Title: What’s Trust Got to Do With It
Fandom: SGA
Characters/Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/Ladon Radim
Summary: Ladon has been thinking about Elizabeth and comes to Atlantis to act on it. Obscured smut ensues.
Spoilers: Set between Coup D’Etat in s2 and Common Ground in s3. References The Long Goodbye.
Word Count: 1650
Notes: Because I can. They have a chemistry I really wish they would’ve explored more. Two very good actors as two very interesting characters is love! Truth is, though, this started out as an excuse for porn, but it turned into a character/chemistry study. The porn then wrote itself in, anyways. Not beta’d.
Elizabeth knew she couldn’t place any amount of trust in the man before her. But this trust wasn’t the political kind and it wasn’t likely to get her or her team killed. Probably.
Ladon Radim was an ally. A tentative ally, at that. And now she stood just inside his guest quarters, glaring at him. Waiting for his word, his move, remembering he was still an enemy-turned-ally.
He broke the look first, glancing around the room.
“I see you spruced up the prisoner’s quarters.”
“Be thankful we did so.”
“I am. I was not expecting such hospitality.”
“Even from me?”
“Especially from you,” he said, quick to reply.
“Oh, now I’m hurt,” she said, her eyebrow raised high.
“My apologies,” he replied, bowing his head but not dropping his gaze.
“Why are you here, Ladon?”
“I thought it would be obvious.”
“Your motivations are never obvious.”
“That’s quite a compliment from so insightful a leader.”
“First you insult me, then you praise me. Do you see why I asked you, outright, instead of trying to figure you out?”
“I thought if I made my reason for coming known, your mongrel would attack me without a second thought.”
“Ronon only goes after those who pose a threat. Do you pose a threat, Mr. Radim?”
“Perhaps.”
Elizabeth broke the gaze this time, pacing a few steps along the perimeter of the room, her hands clasped behind her. His eyes had showed a hint of predation and she couldn’t have that. He was on her turf. She was in charge here. She knew how to break men like him; her diplomatic instinct told her to stay quiet. He would speak when he felt like it. She had time.
Sure enough, it took only moments.
“I came here to see you.”
Her disinterested expression turned into one of disbelief. She quickly covered with one of bemusement, but he saw it.
“Hence why I hid my reason for coming. No doubt the entire city would come down on my head if I asked to see you privately.”
“You do have good judgment, I’ll give you that.” He smiled silently. She continued, “Well, you finagled a private meeting. Why?”
“I wanted to see what you’re like. Alone.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” she said, voice light, eyebrow higher than it had ever gone. Surprise mingled with confusion and her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yes.” He met her eyes, no wavering, just green.
“You have to know that you won’t see what I’m really like.”
“Your guards are still up around me, yes.”
Elizabeth regarded him silently, head tilted. He intrigued her, that was for sure. She hadn’t come across anyone who challenged her authority in such a respectful way. Even John asserted his dominance, chin raised even as his words spoke of respect and assurance of her skills as a diplomat. Ladon saw her as a peer, perhaps even an equal. It was funny coming from someone who killed and connived his way from a low position.
Her gut told her he was telling the truth.
“I’ll tell the guards to bring us some dinner.”
“Alone?”
“I can invite Dr. McKay if you want.”
“Much as I’m sure he’d love to have a private dinner with you, that’s quite alright.”
She smirked and touched her radio. “Can you bring two plates to Mr. Radim’s room? Thank you.” They looked at each other as she spoke. He sat, a faint smile at his lips.
“Care to sit?” He patted the spot beside him on the bed. She narrowed her eyes as his smile grew wider.
“No, thank you.”
“Please, I insist. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer the lady a seat?”
“Who says you’re a gentleman?”
He quirked an eyebrow in response. She sighed, but walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted on the ground, hands clasped in her lap. She caught the look out of the corner of her eye, a look of brief triumph. He thought he’d won.
“How are you?”
“You’re asking after my health?”
“Is continuing our banter better for you?” He grinned as she shot him a look.
“I’m doing well. There hasn’t been a major crisis in at least a week.” Even that was perhaps too much. She wouldn’t say more.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?”
“Bit pushy for a first date, aren’t you?”
“First? Does that indicate at least a second?”
“It’s a description, not a deal.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Pushing your luck will assure you won’t see a second date.”
“How far can I go?”
Elizabeth turned to him, eyes wide and tongue ready to lash, but his face, his eyes, his lips, were right there. He looked at her in such a way that her stomach wobbled and her heart pumped a little faster. His gaze swept down her face to her lips, lingering there, then back up. It was somewhere between a premeditated seduction technique and an unfeigned look, one he knew would get to her and yet one he couldn’t help showing. Elizabeth would later tell herself it was that mix that made her let him kiss her.
The kiss was slow, soft at first then firmer as he gained confidence she wasn’t going to pull away and slap him. (Though, she thought later, that was at the back of her mind. Would’ve served him right, too.) His stubble itched and her side twinged as she twisted to lean into the kiss, but it was worth it. She hadn’t kissed anyone since coming to Atlantis (she refused to think of that kiss with John as something more than someone else possessing her body) and she hadn’t kissed anyone new in a very long time.
Simon had been good, solid, real. A good man and a good lover, always thinking of her, her life and her pleasure. He hadn’t taken for himself in quite some time. Ladon was-testing her. Tasting her. Figuring out who she was and if she was good enough to have seconds, thirds. And apparently she was because he tongued at her lips, asking her to open. She did, with little hesitation. He was quite good.
“Dr. Weir,” the voice in her earpiece said, loud. They broke apart.
“Yes?” she asked, and if her voice was a little breathy, he’d never know it over the crackling radio.
“We have the plates you asked for.” The door pinged, punctuating his words.
“Enter,” she said, standing up and stepping away from the bed as the door opened. The officer set the plates down on the table, nodded and strode away with only a “ma’am.” He might talk, he might not. It depended on how slow Atlantis was on gossip that night.
“We should eat.”
“I agree,” said the low voice right behind her. She turned as his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her close, his Genii uniform rough. He kissed her again, harder this time, and she bent into it.
“The food’s getting cold,” she murmured as he traced his way down her jaw to her neck.
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t we eat?”
He sank to his knees, eyes glittering as he looked up at her with a smirk. “I was just about to.”
“Ladon,” her voice sharp, but still airy, made him look up from his task of working his hands down to her waistband. He rose suddenly, full height just above hers, eyes guarded. He waited for her to speak and, though she knew it was exactly the technique she had used earlier, she broke.
“We’re both highly respected, but highly scrutinized leaders. I don’t think this is a very good idea, do you?”
“That remains to be seen, but it’s the idea that’s been plaguing my sleep for weeks on end.”
She really didn’t want to comment on that, flattering though it was. “I think I should go,” she said, turning to the door.
“Elizabeth,” he said. Two strong hands spun her around, pulling her over to the bed. She flopped down unceremoniously, mouth open and ready to berate him, once for the action and once for the informality of address. He stooped down and kissed her once more, fierce this time and unforgiving, almost daring her to defy him. She pushed him off her and stood up to face him.
He looked expectant, as though ready for her rebuke, so he was the one off-balance when she leaned in and kissed him back. She pulled him to her by his lapels, the rough fabric scratching against her palms. He wanted to push her to her boundary? So be it. She could push right back.
This mentality is why she ended up on the bed, hands and lips roaming over her body as it was exposed piece by piece. Her hands found their way to his hair and stayed there as he found his way around and inside her, stubble tickling in a none-too-unpleasant way and adding to the feel of his mouth.
Elizabeth would wonder later why that was his chosen activity. Simon used to do that as a way of giving; it wasn’t a taking position. Unless Ladon had been giving while taking, a way of subtly showing he held the power. He was still a slimy politician. She knew she couldn’t trust him; he always found a way of coming out on top. He always found a way to trick them right into his waiting-and, oh, capable-hands.
But maybe, just maybe, this knowledge could help her form a strategy to play him the way he was playing her. And maybe, that’s what she didn’t want, because, though he might be in control, she was getting what she wanted. And that was all that mattered.
So the man couldn’t be trusted. But he could be of use to her in other ways.
Fandom: SGA
Characters/Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/Ladon Radim
Summary: Ladon has been thinking about Elizabeth and comes to Atlantis to act on it. Obscured smut ensues.
Spoilers: Set between Coup D’Etat in s2 and Common Ground in s3. References The Long Goodbye.
Word Count: 1650
Notes: Because I can. They have a chemistry I really wish they would’ve explored more. Two very good actors as two very interesting characters is love! Truth is, though, this started out as an excuse for porn, but it turned into a character/chemistry study. The porn then wrote itself in, anyways. Not beta’d.
Elizabeth knew she couldn’t place any amount of trust in the man before her. But this trust wasn’t the political kind and it wasn’t likely to get her or her team killed. Probably.
Ladon Radim was an ally. A tentative ally, at that. And now she stood just inside his guest quarters, glaring at him. Waiting for his word, his move, remembering he was still an enemy-turned-ally.
He broke the look first, glancing around the room.
“I see you spruced up the prisoner’s quarters.”
“Be thankful we did so.”
“I am. I was not expecting such hospitality.”
“Even from me?”
“Especially from you,” he said, quick to reply.
“Oh, now I’m hurt,” she said, her eyebrow raised high.
“My apologies,” he replied, bowing his head but not dropping his gaze.
“Why are you here, Ladon?”
“I thought it would be obvious.”
“Your motivations are never obvious.”
“That’s quite a compliment from so insightful a leader.”
“First you insult me, then you praise me. Do you see why I asked you, outright, instead of trying to figure you out?”
“I thought if I made my reason for coming known, your mongrel would attack me without a second thought.”
“Ronon only goes after those who pose a threat. Do you pose a threat, Mr. Radim?”
“Perhaps.”
Elizabeth broke the gaze this time, pacing a few steps along the perimeter of the room, her hands clasped behind her. His eyes had showed a hint of predation and she couldn’t have that. He was on her turf. She was in charge here. She knew how to break men like him; her diplomatic instinct told her to stay quiet. He would speak when he felt like it. She had time.
Sure enough, it took only moments.
“I came here to see you.”
Her disinterested expression turned into one of disbelief. She quickly covered with one of bemusement, but he saw it.
“Hence why I hid my reason for coming. No doubt the entire city would come down on my head if I asked to see you privately.”
“You do have good judgment, I’ll give you that.” He smiled silently. She continued, “Well, you finagled a private meeting. Why?”
“I wanted to see what you’re like. Alone.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” she said, voice light, eyebrow higher than it had ever gone. Surprise mingled with confusion and her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yes.” He met her eyes, no wavering, just green.
“You have to know that you won’t see what I’m really like.”
“Your guards are still up around me, yes.”
Elizabeth regarded him silently, head tilted. He intrigued her, that was for sure. She hadn’t come across anyone who challenged her authority in such a respectful way. Even John asserted his dominance, chin raised even as his words spoke of respect and assurance of her skills as a diplomat. Ladon saw her as a peer, perhaps even an equal. It was funny coming from someone who killed and connived his way from a low position.
Her gut told her he was telling the truth.
“I’ll tell the guards to bring us some dinner.”
“Alone?”
“I can invite Dr. McKay if you want.”
“Much as I’m sure he’d love to have a private dinner with you, that’s quite alright.”
She smirked and touched her radio. “Can you bring two plates to Mr. Radim’s room? Thank you.” They looked at each other as she spoke. He sat, a faint smile at his lips.
“Care to sit?” He patted the spot beside him on the bed. She narrowed her eyes as his smile grew wider.
“No, thank you.”
“Please, I insist. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer the lady a seat?”
“Who says you’re a gentleman?”
He quirked an eyebrow in response. She sighed, but walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, feet firmly planted on the ground, hands clasped in her lap. She caught the look out of the corner of her eye, a look of brief triumph. He thought he’d won.
“How are you?”
“You’re asking after my health?”
“Is continuing our banter better for you?” He grinned as she shot him a look.
“I’m doing well. There hasn’t been a major crisis in at least a week.” Even that was perhaps too much. She wouldn’t say more.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?”
“Bit pushy for a first date, aren’t you?”
“First? Does that indicate at least a second?”
“It’s a description, not a deal.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Pushing your luck will assure you won’t see a second date.”
“How far can I go?”
Elizabeth turned to him, eyes wide and tongue ready to lash, but his face, his eyes, his lips, were right there. He looked at her in such a way that her stomach wobbled and her heart pumped a little faster. His gaze swept down her face to her lips, lingering there, then back up. It was somewhere between a premeditated seduction technique and an unfeigned look, one he knew would get to her and yet one he couldn’t help showing. Elizabeth would later tell herself it was that mix that made her let him kiss her.
The kiss was slow, soft at first then firmer as he gained confidence she wasn’t going to pull away and slap him. (Though, she thought later, that was at the back of her mind. Would’ve served him right, too.) His stubble itched and her side twinged as she twisted to lean into the kiss, but it was worth it. She hadn’t kissed anyone since coming to Atlantis (she refused to think of that kiss with John as something more than someone else possessing her body) and she hadn’t kissed anyone new in a very long time.
Simon had been good, solid, real. A good man and a good lover, always thinking of her, her life and her pleasure. He hadn’t taken for himself in quite some time. Ladon was-testing her. Tasting her. Figuring out who she was and if she was good enough to have seconds, thirds. And apparently she was because he tongued at her lips, asking her to open. She did, with little hesitation. He was quite good.
“Dr. Weir,” the voice in her earpiece said, loud. They broke apart.
“Yes?” she asked, and if her voice was a little breathy, he’d never know it over the crackling radio.
“We have the plates you asked for.” The door pinged, punctuating his words.
“Enter,” she said, standing up and stepping away from the bed as the door opened. The officer set the plates down on the table, nodded and strode away with only a “ma’am.” He might talk, he might not. It depended on how slow Atlantis was on gossip that night.
“We should eat.”
“I agree,” said the low voice right behind her. She turned as his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her close, his Genii uniform rough. He kissed her again, harder this time, and she bent into it.
“The food’s getting cold,” she murmured as he traced his way down her jaw to her neck.
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t we eat?”
He sank to his knees, eyes glittering as he looked up at her with a smirk. “I was just about to.”
“Ladon,” her voice sharp, but still airy, made him look up from his task of working his hands down to her waistband. He rose suddenly, full height just above hers, eyes guarded. He waited for her to speak and, though she knew it was exactly the technique she had used earlier, she broke.
“We’re both highly respected, but highly scrutinized leaders. I don’t think this is a very good idea, do you?”
“That remains to be seen, but it’s the idea that’s been plaguing my sleep for weeks on end.”
She really didn’t want to comment on that, flattering though it was. “I think I should go,” she said, turning to the door.
“Elizabeth,” he said. Two strong hands spun her around, pulling her over to the bed. She flopped down unceremoniously, mouth open and ready to berate him, once for the action and once for the informality of address. He stooped down and kissed her once more, fierce this time and unforgiving, almost daring her to defy him. She pushed him off her and stood up to face him.
He looked expectant, as though ready for her rebuke, so he was the one off-balance when she leaned in and kissed him back. She pulled him to her by his lapels, the rough fabric scratching against her palms. He wanted to push her to her boundary? So be it. She could push right back.
This mentality is why she ended up on the bed, hands and lips roaming over her body as it was exposed piece by piece. Her hands found their way to his hair and stayed there as he found his way around and inside her, stubble tickling in a none-too-unpleasant way and adding to the feel of his mouth.
Elizabeth would wonder later why that was his chosen activity. Simon used to do that as a way of giving; it wasn’t a taking position. Unless Ladon had been giving while taking, a way of subtly showing he held the power. He was still a slimy politician. She knew she couldn’t trust him; he always found a way of coming out on top. He always found a way to trick them right into his waiting-and, oh, capable-hands.
But maybe, just maybe, this knowledge could help her form a strategy to play him the way he was playing her. And maybe, that’s what she didn’t want, because, though he might be in control, she was getting what she wanted. And that was all that mattered.
So the man couldn’t be trusted. But he could be of use to her in other ways.