Fic: Higher (John/Ronon) NC17
I'm working on fic that is seriously kicking my ass to the point that it has moved into the realm of "slowly wearing away at my soul and driving me insane."
Quite obviously a pr0n break was in order.
Title: Higher
Rating: NC17
Pairing: John/Ronon
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Well, see, it's porn. But, yes, a snippet: He knows that Sheppard can take it like this, prefers it rough and dirty and full of friction.
*
They slow to a jog, then a walk, up in the catwalks in the east section of the city. Ronon is pumped full of endorphins, high in that way he only ever gets after a good run, when he's moved hard and fast and his mind has just slipped away while his body followed a simple rhythm.
Sheppard is huffing for breath, chest heaving as he bends at the waist, hands braced on the railing. His t-shirt is damp with exertion, dark patches of wetness spreading from under his arms and across his chest and back. A thick drop of sweat is sliding slowly from his hair line down the side of his neck, and Ronon's nostrils flare.
There's not much in this area. It's a junction for a lot of empty rooms, and corridors that lead to damaged rooms, and they passed the most recent security sweep a few minutes back; the next won't be by for an hour.
Ronon reaches out, presses his thumb low on Sheppard's neck, right above where it joins with his shoulder, and drags it up, hard, retracing the path of that drop of sweat, collecting it as he goes along. Sheppard freezes, then turns his head to watch Ronon bring his thumb to his mouth and suck it clean.
There aren't many people who can keep their emotions off their face like Sheppard can, and Ronon doesn't know what's going on beneath the carefully blank look Sheppard's wearing. Even after all this time, all the instances of being right here just after a patrol sweep, Ronon doesn't know which way this will go.
He doesn't much care, either, and he thinks that's why it works out in his favor more often than not. Ronon's heard some of the women in Atlantis talking about Sheppard and they say things like "emotionally unavailable" and "intimacy issues", and they're right. If Ronon wanted this too much, or needed it even a little, then Sheppard would never have let it happen that first time, or any of the times after that. And Ronon wouldn't have made a move all those months ago if Sheppard hadn't felt that exact way.
Sheppard's still just staring at him and Ronon makes an impatient noise. "We doing this or not?"
"Yeah, yeah." Sheppard licks his lips and Ronon, now that the all clear's been given, lets his body react, feels his cock start to thicken. "The alcove," Sheppard says and jerks his head to the left.
They've done it right on the catwalk a few times, once with Sheppard perched on the top railing, feet hooked behind the lower one, Ronon's hands held firmly against his back to keep him from falling while Ronon sucked him off. Hot as that was, Ronon likes it when Sheppard picks the alcove at the end of this catwalk because it means it won't be over with fast.
Sheppard leads the way, and Ronon follows, watching Sheppard's spine tighten and tense with the beginnings of sex, which is a different kind of tension than what straightens Sheppard's back when there's danger.
When they get to the alcove Sheppard spins around, grabs his wrist and jerks. Ronon goes with the motion, lets Sheppard swing him so that the back of his legs hit the edge of the bench built into the wall. Sheppard pushes on his shoulder and he sits down, spreads his legs so that Sheppard can move between them.
Ronon tips forward, presses his face against Sheppard's cock through the thin material of his exercise pants, and inhales deeply with his mouth open.
Sheppard hisses, his hips twitching erratically for a moment before he stills them. If they didn't have to worry about what they look like when they're done, Ronon would mouth Sheppard's cock, drench the material covering it, and taste Sheppard through it. He settles for nosing Sheppard's crotch, scenting him, and it's dizzying enough that he starts to see black spots at the edges of his vision.
"Hey."
The word is sharp and commanding, and Ronon tilts his head up and looks at Sheppard through slitted lids. "What?" he growls lightly.
Sheppard studies him for a moment and then knits his hand in Ronon's dreads. Ronon resists enough that Sheppard has to work to pull and hold him away, and Sheppard's eyes get dark, and his breathing gets shallow, and Ronon just knows it's going to be good.
With his free hand, Sheppard tugs at the tie of his pants, loosening it and then shoving them down to free his cock. Ronon makes Sheppard work even harder to get his mouth back, and Sheppard has to take another handful of dreads for leverage. Ronon's scalp burns with the pull, another slow wave of endorphins kicking in.
When Sheppard finally gets him there, Ronon's lips are pressed together. Sheppard makes a noise, low and rumbling, and tilts Ronon's head until his lips are brushing Sheppard's cock. And then Sheppard pushes forward, and Ronon stays still, doesn't help, but he lets Sheppard's dick part his lips, open his jaw, and slide over his tongue.
"Jesus," Sheppard groans and his fingers flex in Ronon's hair, keeping him still. He keeps going, slow and deep, and Ronon's own cock is aching and painful now in the confines of his pants.
Sheppard stops when every last inch of his dick is in Ronon's mouth, down Ronon's throat, and stares down at him with a gaze that burns and freezes at the same time. Ronon blinks lazily and then swallows just so that he can watch Sheppard's eyes roll back in is head.
"Oh, god. Again."
Ronon does it once more and then Sheppard loses it and starts moving in and out of his mouth fast and hard, gripping his hair more forcefully with every thrust, and Sheppard's dick is bruising all the soft, delicate tissues at the back of Ronon's mouth, battering against it, making it get sensitive and tender, and Ronon growls just so that the vibration of the sound will scrape and hurt.
He grabs Sheppard's hips and holds him up when his knees start to give out, and it only takes two more thrusts before Sheppard's cock swells in his mouth, and he draws back, despite Sheppard's hands in his hair, so that Sheppard comes in his mouth, across his tongue, instead of down his throat.
"Fucking hell," Sheppard gasps, falling to the side and leaning against a wall.
Ronon cups a hand, spits the mouthful of come into it, and stands up. Sheppard rolls his head back and forth against the wall behind him, shoves his hips forward, and his spent cock twitches.
Say whatever you want about Sheppard's "intimacy issues" but he's always good for two goes. One memorable time it was three, but they had several hours to work with due to the black out that trapped them in this section.
Ronon opens his pants, coats his cock with Sheppard's come, and then shoves Sheppard around to kneel on the bench, facing the wall. They haven't done it exactly this way in this place before, and right away Ronon sees that the bench is too low.
"Reach up," Ronon says and, when Sheppard turns his head with a questioning look, he gestures at the indentations scattered along the wall where the components of some long-gone machine are meant to fit. Sheppard has to stretch and stretch to reach two of them, going high on his knees and leaning forward.
"Not gonna be high enough," Sheppard after another glance back.
Ronon shows his teeth and gives his cock one last stroke. "Let me worry about that. Just hold on." Sheppard's eyes are lit by blackness when he turns away. "Yeah," Ronon grunts and grabs Sheppard's hips, lifting him up off the bench.
Sheppard takes more of his weight on his hands and lets Ronon take the rest of it. The angle is perfect and all Ronon has to do is take a small step forward and push, insistent and unyielding, nothing like gentle or soft, and Sheppard tries to rear back for "more, now, come on, damn it, Ronon."
When Ronon's buried in Sheppard's ass he pauses; Sheppard inhales hurriedly and the muscles in his forearms flex as he braces himself right before Ronon draws out and then shoves back in, harder and faster than that first stroke.
"Shit," Sheppard gasps, fingers sliding against the smooth surface under them, and for an instant Ronon is holding all of his weight. "Okay, okay, I'm good, yeah, just--" Ronon slides back again and Sheppard's voice catches. "Son of a bitch."
Ronon bares his teeth, locks his knees, starts fucking Sheppard in earnest. The come isn't a slick enough lube for the pace he's set but he doesn't care because it's tight and close and abrasive around his cock, a small hurt that's making his body sing, perfection in a fuck, and he knows that Sheppard can take it like this, prefers it rough and dirty and full of friction.
He shoves harder and Sheppard moves higher, has to scramble for another set of handholds, and Ronon wants to fuck him up the wall, make him climb and stretch. Ronon moves closer to the bench, fucks Sheppard above his latest holds, and then Sheppard is hyper-extending to reach another set.
Another series of thrusts and Ronon is kneeling on the bench, sitting on his heels, and Sheppard is trembling with exertion, muscles giving out and making Ronon bear more of his weight, but it isn't enough, and Ronon rises up on his knees, and, yeah, oh, yeah, that's it.
Sheppard is shaking with the strain, arms stretched over his head and to the sides, fingers just barely tucked into another set of holds, back arched and muscles jerking as he fights for purchase and a better grip. He's sweating rivers down on Ronon, and Ronon will smell like Sheppard, will be covered in him when they leave, and no one will know, and not even Sheppard will be able to smell himself on Ronon, but Ronon will.
Ronon buries himself balls deep inside of Sheppard, shoves ininin without pulling out, and Sheppard starts snarling at him, furious and harsh, like a cornered animal, and Ronon manages to reach around and fist Sheppard's cock without toppling over.
He wants to keep going, wants to stand on the bench and see how high he can take Sheppard, but he doesn't get this often enough that he has that kind of control, and once Sheppard starts coming around his dick, in his hand, Ronon is lost, gone, tensing so violently when he comes that he thinks tendons might snap, give, break.
They make their way back to the city-proper at a jog, Sheppard sending disgruntled glances in Ronon's direction every few feet when his legs get rubbery under him. Ronon just smirks and lets his mind slip away and his body move.
.End
Quite obviously a pr0n break was in order.
Title: Higher
Rating: NC17
Pairing: John/Ronon
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Well, see, it's porn. But, yes, a snippet: He knows that Sheppard can take it like this, prefers it rough and dirty and full of friction.
*
They slow to a jog, then a walk, up in the catwalks in the east section of the city. Ronon is pumped full of endorphins, high in that way he only ever gets after a good run, when he's moved hard and fast and his mind has just slipped away while his body followed a simple rhythm.
Sheppard is huffing for breath, chest heaving as he bends at the waist, hands braced on the railing. His t-shirt is damp with exertion, dark patches of wetness spreading from under his arms and across his chest and back. A thick drop of sweat is sliding slowly from his hair line down the side of his neck, and Ronon's nostrils flare.
There's not much in this area. It's a junction for a lot of empty rooms, and corridors that lead to damaged rooms, and they passed the most recent security sweep a few minutes back; the next won't be by for an hour.
Ronon reaches out, presses his thumb low on Sheppard's neck, right above where it joins with his shoulder, and drags it up, hard, retracing the path of that drop of sweat, collecting it as he goes along. Sheppard freezes, then turns his head to watch Ronon bring his thumb to his mouth and suck it clean.
There aren't many people who can keep their emotions off their face like Sheppard can, and Ronon doesn't know what's going on beneath the carefully blank look Sheppard's wearing. Even after all this time, all the instances of being right here just after a patrol sweep, Ronon doesn't know which way this will go.
He doesn't much care, either, and he thinks that's why it works out in his favor more often than not. Ronon's heard some of the women in Atlantis talking about Sheppard and they say things like "emotionally unavailable" and "intimacy issues", and they're right. If Ronon wanted this too much, or needed it even a little, then Sheppard would never have let it happen that first time, or any of the times after that. And Ronon wouldn't have made a move all those months ago if Sheppard hadn't felt that exact way.
Sheppard's still just staring at him and Ronon makes an impatient noise. "We doing this or not?"
"Yeah, yeah." Sheppard licks his lips and Ronon, now that the all clear's been given, lets his body react, feels his cock start to thicken. "The alcove," Sheppard says and jerks his head to the left.
They've done it right on the catwalk a few times, once with Sheppard perched on the top railing, feet hooked behind the lower one, Ronon's hands held firmly against his back to keep him from falling while Ronon sucked him off. Hot as that was, Ronon likes it when Sheppard picks the alcove at the end of this catwalk because it means it won't be over with fast.
Sheppard leads the way, and Ronon follows, watching Sheppard's spine tighten and tense with the beginnings of sex, which is a different kind of tension than what straightens Sheppard's back when there's danger.
When they get to the alcove Sheppard spins around, grabs his wrist and jerks. Ronon goes with the motion, lets Sheppard swing him so that the back of his legs hit the edge of the bench built into the wall. Sheppard pushes on his shoulder and he sits down, spreads his legs so that Sheppard can move between them.
Ronon tips forward, presses his face against Sheppard's cock through the thin material of his exercise pants, and inhales deeply with his mouth open.
Sheppard hisses, his hips twitching erratically for a moment before he stills them. If they didn't have to worry about what they look like when they're done, Ronon would mouth Sheppard's cock, drench the material covering it, and taste Sheppard through it. He settles for nosing Sheppard's crotch, scenting him, and it's dizzying enough that he starts to see black spots at the edges of his vision.
"Hey."
The word is sharp and commanding, and Ronon tilts his head up and looks at Sheppard through slitted lids. "What?" he growls lightly.
Sheppard studies him for a moment and then knits his hand in Ronon's dreads. Ronon resists enough that Sheppard has to work to pull and hold him away, and Sheppard's eyes get dark, and his breathing gets shallow, and Ronon just knows it's going to be good.
With his free hand, Sheppard tugs at the tie of his pants, loosening it and then shoving them down to free his cock. Ronon makes Sheppard work even harder to get his mouth back, and Sheppard has to take another handful of dreads for leverage. Ronon's scalp burns with the pull, another slow wave of endorphins kicking in.
When Sheppard finally gets him there, Ronon's lips are pressed together. Sheppard makes a noise, low and rumbling, and tilts Ronon's head until his lips are brushing Sheppard's cock. And then Sheppard pushes forward, and Ronon stays still, doesn't help, but he lets Sheppard's dick part his lips, open his jaw, and slide over his tongue.
"Jesus," Sheppard groans and his fingers flex in Ronon's hair, keeping him still. He keeps going, slow and deep, and Ronon's own cock is aching and painful now in the confines of his pants.
Sheppard stops when every last inch of his dick is in Ronon's mouth, down Ronon's throat, and stares down at him with a gaze that burns and freezes at the same time. Ronon blinks lazily and then swallows just so that he can watch Sheppard's eyes roll back in is head.
"Oh, god. Again."
Ronon does it once more and then Sheppard loses it and starts moving in and out of his mouth fast and hard, gripping his hair more forcefully with every thrust, and Sheppard's dick is bruising all the soft, delicate tissues at the back of Ronon's mouth, battering against it, making it get sensitive and tender, and Ronon growls just so that the vibration of the sound will scrape and hurt.
He grabs Sheppard's hips and holds him up when his knees start to give out, and it only takes two more thrusts before Sheppard's cock swells in his mouth, and he draws back, despite Sheppard's hands in his hair, so that Sheppard comes in his mouth, across his tongue, instead of down his throat.
"Fucking hell," Sheppard gasps, falling to the side and leaning against a wall.
Ronon cups a hand, spits the mouthful of come into it, and stands up. Sheppard rolls his head back and forth against the wall behind him, shoves his hips forward, and his spent cock twitches.
Say whatever you want about Sheppard's "intimacy issues" but he's always good for two goes. One memorable time it was three, but they had several hours to work with due to the black out that trapped them in this section.
Ronon opens his pants, coats his cock with Sheppard's come, and then shoves Sheppard around to kneel on the bench, facing the wall. They haven't done it exactly this way in this place before, and right away Ronon sees that the bench is too low.
"Reach up," Ronon says and, when Sheppard turns his head with a questioning look, he gestures at the indentations scattered along the wall where the components of some long-gone machine are meant to fit. Sheppard has to stretch and stretch to reach two of them, going high on his knees and leaning forward.
"Not gonna be high enough," Sheppard after another glance back.
Ronon shows his teeth and gives his cock one last stroke. "Let me worry about that. Just hold on." Sheppard's eyes are lit by blackness when he turns away. "Yeah," Ronon grunts and grabs Sheppard's hips, lifting him up off the bench.
Sheppard takes more of his weight on his hands and lets Ronon take the rest of it. The angle is perfect and all Ronon has to do is take a small step forward and push, insistent and unyielding, nothing like gentle or soft, and Sheppard tries to rear back for "more, now, come on, damn it, Ronon."
When Ronon's buried in Sheppard's ass he pauses; Sheppard inhales hurriedly and the muscles in his forearms flex as he braces himself right before Ronon draws out and then shoves back in, harder and faster than that first stroke.
"Shit," Sheppard gasps, fingers sliding against the smooth surface under them, and for an instant Ronon is holding all of his weight. "Okay, okay, I'm good, yeah, just--" Ronon slides back again and Sheppard's voice catches. "Son of a bitch."
Ronon bares his teeth, locks his knees, starts fucking Sheppard in earnest. The come isn't a slick enough lube for the pace he's set but he doesn't care because it's tight and close and abrasive around his cock, a small hurt that's making his body sing, perfection in a fuck, and he knows that Sheppard can take it like this, prefers it rough and dirty and full of friction.
He shoves harder and Sheppard moves higher, has to scramble for another set of handholds, and Ronon wants to fuck him up the wall, make him climb and stretch. Ronon moves closer to the bench, fucks Sheppard above his latest holds, and then Sheppard is hyper-extending to reach another set.
Another series of thrusts and Ronon is kneeling on the bench, sitting on his heels, and Sheppard is trembling with exertion, muscles giving out and making Ronon bear more of his weight, but it isn't enough, and Ronon rises up on his knees, and, yeah, oh, yeah, that's it.
Sheppard is shaking with the strain, arms stretched over his head and to the sides, fingers just barely tucked into another set of holds, back arched and muscles jerking as he fights for purchase and a better grip. He's sweating rivers down on Ronon, and Ronon will smell like Sheppard, will be covered in him when they leave, and no one will know, and not even Sheppard will be able to smell himself on Ronon, but Ronon will.
Ronon buries himself balls deep inside of Sheppard, shoves ininin without pulling out, and Sheppard starts snarling at him, furious and harsh, like a cornered animal, and Ronon manages to reach around and fist Sheppard's cock without toppling over.
He wants to keep going, wants to stand on the bench and see how high he can take Sheppard, but he doesn't get this often enough that he has that kind of control, and once Sheppard starts coming around his dick, in his hand, Ronon is lost, gone, tensing so violently when he comes that he thinks tendons might snap, give, break.
They make their way back to the city-proper at a jog, Sheppard sending disgruntled glances in Ronon's direction every few feet when his legs get rubbery under him. Ronon just smirks and lets his mind slip away and his body move.
.End