Fight. Stargate: Atlantis, Rodney/Ronon, intense.merihnJanuary 25 2009, 20:02:23 UTC
Swift smack to the small of his back and when he stumbles and tries to right himself, another to the back of his knees has him folding like a house of cards. Sweat drips in his eyes as he looks up and Ronon smirks, twists his dreads back into the leather thong that holds them from his face.
“Do you yield?”
Rodney bares his teeth as he tries to catch his breath, the fighting stick useless in his hands. He’d thought he was getting better - and sure, he’d never be as good as Ronon - but it seems as if Ronon’d just been humouring him. Ronon walks around him slowly, lets his own stick trail over the back of Rodney’s neck, around into the dip of his collarbone. He taps it against Rodney’s shoulder as if to remind him what it can do.
“Yes, fine,” Rodney grits out, wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm. Ronon eyes him as he continues to circle. “Do you have to do that? You won, isn’t that enough?”
“No,” Ronon’s lips quirk and swiftly his feet are planted on either side of Rodney’s legs and Rodney’s vision is full of leather pants and muscular thighs.
“What-?” Rodney starts, but Ronon grabs him by the back of his head, angles him so he’s looking straight up. Ronon doesn’t say anything, just watches him, and Rodney licks his lips, mouth dry. He’s suddenly achingly hard in the confines of his pants, and completely confused. He looks back down, almost chokes when he sees Ronon bulging in his pants, unexpected and so close.
And he wants.
He wants so badly to taste, to feel the weight of Ronon in his mouth, and he leans in and lets his senses fill. Ronon’s fingers tense and then smooth against the back of his head, not pulling or pushing, just letting Rodney breathe. Rodney moves in closer and presses his face to Ronon’s thigh, his mouth so close to his cock. Ronon groans almost inaudibly as Rodney lets his mouth skim over the taut leather, and shifts slightly in invitation.
And suddenly he’s struggling with the ties on Ronon’s pants, fingers shaking slightly as he loosens them enough to pull them off his hips, and he inhales sharply when Ronon’s cock, free of the restricting material, sprung up and slapped against his stomach. Rodney leans in and mouths his way up to the tip, tasting the precome leaking out. Ronon grunts and sways in front of him, trying to push in closer.
He closes his mouth around the head, sinks down onto Ronon, the thickness pressing his jaw open until he can’t go any further, swallowing rapidly so he wouldn’t choke. Ronon’s hands shifted on his head again, fingers gripping the short strands of his hair, hips rocking gently.
Rodney pressed the heel of his hand against his own hard cock, needing the pressure, the friction. He rubs himself as he pulls back to lick around the head, catching each burst of precome and savouring it before sliding back down. Ronon’s breathing sped up and his hips rocked more urgently against Rodney, and Rodney palmed himself harder, feeling the heat curl in his belly.
“God,” Ronon choked, thrusting harder into Rodney’s mouth. Rodney relaxed as best he could, taking him deeper and then Ronon muttered a warning, trying to pull back, but Rodney sucked harder, swallowing as best he could as Ronon spilled down his throat. He arched against his own hand and came, still swallowing, not sure how he hadn’t passed out from the sensations.
Ronon pulled back after a moment and dropped to his knees in front of Rodney, yanking him in abruptly and kissing him with bruising force. When he let go, Rodney dropped his head onto Ronon’s shoulder and tried to catch his breath, still spinning out from how quickly everything had changed.
Swift smack to the small of his back and when he stumbles and tries to right himself, another to the back of his knees has him folding like a house of cards. Sweat drips in his eyes as he looks up and Ronon smirks, twists his dreads back into the leather thong that holds them from his face.
“Do you yield?”
Rodney bares his teeth as he tries to catch his breath, the fighting stick useless in his hands. He’d thought he was getting better - and sure, he’d never be as good as Ronon - but it seems as if Ronon’d just been humouring him. Ronon walks around him slowly, lets his own stick trail over the back of Rodney’s neck, around into the dip of his collarbone. He taps it against Rodney’s shoulder as if to remind him what it can do.
“Yes, fine,” Rodney grits out, wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm. Ronon eyes him as he continues to circle. “Do you have to do that? You won, isn’t that enough?”
“No,” Ronon’s lips quirk and swiftly his feet are planted on either side of Rodney’s legs and Rodney’s vision is full of leather pants and muscular thighs.
“What-?” Rodney starts, but Ronon grabs him by the back of his head, angles him so he’s looking straight up. Ronon doesn’t say anything, just watches him, and Rodney licks his lips, mouth dry. He’s suddenly achingly hard in the confines of his pants, and completely confused. He looks back down, almost chokes when he sees Ronon bulging in his pants, unexpected and so close.
And he wants.
He wants so badly to taste, to feel the weight of Ronon in his mouth, and he leans in and lets his senses fill. Ronon’s fingers tense and then smooth against the back of his head, not pulling or pushing, just letting Rodney breathe. Rodney moves in closer and presses his face to Ronon’s thigh, his mouth so close to his cock. Ronon groans almost inaudibly as Rodney lets his mouth skim over the taut leather, and shifts slightly in invitation.
And suddenly he’s struggling with the ties on Ronon’s pants, fingers shaking slightly as he loosens them enough to pull them off his hips, and he inhales sharply when Ronon’s cock, free of the restricting material, sprung up and slapped against his stomach. Rodney leans in and mouths his way up to the tip, tasting the precome leaking out. Ronon grunts and sways in front of him, trying to push in closer.
He closes his mouth around the head, sinks down onto Ronon, the thickness pressing his jaw open until he can’t go any further, swallowing rapidly so he wouldn’t choke. Ronon’s hands shifted on his head again, fingers gripping the short strands of his hair, hips rocking gently.
Rodney pressed the heel of his hand against his own hard cock, needing the pressure, the friction. He rubs himself as he pulls back to lick around the head, catching each burst of precome and savouring it before sliding back down. Ronon’s breathing sped up and his hips rocked more urgently against Rodney, and Rodney palmed himself harder, feeling the heat curl in his belly.
“God,” Ronon choked, thrusting harder into Rodney’s mouth. Rodney relaxed as best he could, taking him deeper and then Ronon muttered a warning, trying to pull back, but Rodney sucked harder, swallowing as best he could as Ronon spilled down his throat. He arched against his own hand and came, still swallowing, not sure how he hadn’t passed out from the sensations.
Ronon pulled back after a moment and dropped to his knees in front of Rodney, yanking him in abruptly and kissing him with bruising force. When he let go, Rodney dropped his head onto Ronon’s shoulder and tried to catch his breath, still spinning out from how quickly everything had changed.
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*melted*
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