Ficlet: I Hear You Say (John/Ronon) NC17
Title: I Hear You Say
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Ronon
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 375
A/N: Prompt by poisontaster, who asked for John/Ronon. Post-Sateda. "Why'd you come after me?"
Summary: They have their most important conversations with their hands.
*
Ronon doesn't say anything, doesn't even make a sound, but his question hangs in the air, and John hears it over and over.
It's in the meticulous way he cups the palms of his hands over John's hipbones, and the deliberate press of his fingers into the soft flesh around them. It's in the way he pushes his way inside John, careful and uncertain. It's in his too-steady breath against the back of John's neck and the metronome precision of his rocking hips.
Why did you come after me? John hears it everywhere, in everything Ronon does, and it's taking up too much room in a bed that isn't even large enough to fit the two of them comfortably, and he's not sure if it makes him want to punch something or scream.
Eventually, John pulls away and turns over. He manhandles Ronon into a sitting position and strips the condom from him, then gets to his knees on the floor in front of him.
John answers with hard hands on the inside of Ronon's thighs, and a too-wet mouth that slides down his dick, hungry and fast. He answers with the stretch of a thumb to the skin behind Ronon's balls, and the slide of his tongue under his cockhead.
He answers, and it's not as coherent and concise as the question, and it's a mess of fear and helplessness and anger: I don't leave men behind and how could you do that and never, ever again, do you hear me.
Ronon falls apart under him, shakes and shudders and comes with a drawn-out growl that clears the bed of everything except them. John pants against his thigh and reaches for himself, and Ronon's hands drag along his back, leaving friction burn in their wake, and John comes all over his own hand.
Ronon slides his fingers into John's hair, tight enough to be felt but not to hurt, and it's an unspoken whisper but John hears it anyway: I'm sorry and thank you.
He look up and holds Ronon's gaze while he reaches out a hand and ghosts his fingers over the stitches high on the side of Ronon's thigh, and he knows Ronon hears him say: Always and please and anywhere.
.End
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: John/Ronon
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 375
A/N: Prompt by poisontaster, who asked for John/Ronon. Post-Sateda. "Why'd you come after me?"
Summary: They have their most important conversations with their hands.
*
Ronon doesn't say anything, doesn't even make a sound, but his question hangs in the air, and John hears it over and over.
It's in the meticulous way he cups the palms of his hands over John's hipbones, and the deliberate press of his fingers into the soft flesh around them. It's in the way he pushes his way inside John, careful and uncertain. It's in his too-steady breath against the back of John's neck and the metronome precision of his rocking hips.
Why did you come after me? John hears it everywhere, in everything Ronon does, and it's taking up too much room in a bed that isn't even large enough to fit the two of them comfortably, and he's not sure if it makes him want to punch something or scream.
Eventually, John pulls away and turns over. He manhandles Ronon into a sitting position and strips the condom from him, then gets to his knees on the floor in front of him.
John answers with hard hands on the inside of Ronon's thighs, and a too-wet mouth that slides down his dick, hungry and fast. He answers with the stretch of a thumb to the skin behind Ronon's balls, and the slide of his tongue under his cockhead.
He answers, and it's not as coherent and concise as the question, and it's a mess of fear and helplessness and anger: I don't leave men behind and how could you do that and never, ever again, do you hear me.
Ronon falls apart under him, shakes and shudders and comes with a drawn-out growl that clears the bed of everything except them. John pants against his thigh and reaches for himself, and Ronon's hands drag along his back, leaving friction burn in their wake, and John comes all over his own hand.
Ronon slides his fingers into John's hair, tight enough to be felt but not to hurt, and it's an unspoken whisper but John hears it anyway: I'm sorry and thank you.
He look up and holds Ronon's gaze while he reaches out a hand and ghosts his fingers over the stitches high on the side of Ronon's thigh, and he knows Ronon hears him say: Always and please and anywhere.
.End