"Delicatus", SGA, John/Ronon
I stayed up waaaaay too late last night. Ugh. But I wrote a little ficlet! Possibly bludgeoning a metaphor to death in the process! Ah well.
Title: Delicatus
Author: scrollgirl
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Ronon
Words: 305
Warnings: PG, post-"Enemy At The Gate"
Author's Note: Written for gaffsie for comment_fic using the prompt: SGA, John/Ronon, San Francisco. Originally posted here.
Delicatus
by Scroll
Ronon wondered if John knew this was a date. Probably not. The guy was pretty dense about some things, even though he was currently trying to seduce Ronon with a Bay view, expensive wine, and Earth delicacies.
"Slowly, okay? Savour it," said John, holding a forkful of butter-drenched lobster up against Ronon's lips. "Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
Ronon narrowed his eyes but didn't answer, just sucked the meat off the fork and took his time chewing, because John had asked. And it was... incredible. Nothing like he'd expected. Tender and melting, its rich flavour sinking into his taste buds, the hint of brine teasing his nostrils. He looked at John, astonished.
"Told you," John smirked, and fed him another delicious morsel. He watched as John deftly cracked open the sea creature's red shell, pulling out more meat with a long, skinny fork, and waited for an opportune moment. Then-- swooped in with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Hey!" John protested, hunching protectively over his plate.
Ronon grinned. "It's good," he said with his mouth full. He hummed with pleasure and licked his fingers clean, relishing every last drop of butter. Glancing up, he caught John staring at his mouth, eyes dark with longing. "John," he said, reaching out to catch his hand on the table.
John flinched, tried to pull away; Ronon didn't let him. "It's not just you," he said, trying to put everything he felt for this man into the bare words he had at his disposal. "I want it too. This. Us."
"I can't," John whispered, pained. "Ronon, I can't."
"You can," Ronon insisted, lifting John's hand to his lips and kissing the palm. "We can." He pushed aside the black wrist band to kiss the pale, delicate skin revealed. "Trust me. We'll go slow."
* * *
Feedback is welcome :)
Title: Delicatus
Author: scrollgirl
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John/Ronon
Words: 305
Warnings: PG, post-"Enemy At The Gate"
Author's Note: Written for gaffsie for comment_fic using the prompt: SGA, John/Ronon, San Francisco. Originally posted here.
Delicatus
by Scroll
Ronon wondered if John knew this was a date. Probably not. The guy was pretty dense about some things, even though he was currently trying to seduce Ronon with a Bay view, expensive wine, and Earth delicacies.
"Slowly, okay? Savour it," said John, holding a forkful of butter-drenched lobster up against Ronon's lips. "Trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
Ronon narrowed his eyes but didn't answer, just sucked the meat off the fork and took his time chewing, because John had asked. And it was... incredible. Nothing like he'd expected. Tender and melting, its rich flavour sinking into his taste buds, the hint of brine teasing his nostrils. He looked at John, astonished.
"Told you," John smirked, and fed him another delicious morsel. He watched as John deftly cracked open the sea creature's red shell, pulling out more meat with a long, skinny fork, and waited for an opportune moment. Then-- swooped in with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Hey!" John protested, hunching protectively over his plate.
Ronon grinned. "It's good," he said with his mouth full. He hummed with pleasure and licked his fingers clean, relishing every last drop of butter. Glancing up, he caught John staring at his mouth, eyes dark with longing. "John," he said, reaching out to catch his hand on the table.
John flinched, tried to pull away; Ronon didn't let him. "It's not just you," he said, trying to put everything he felt for this man into the bare words he had at his disposal. "I want it too. This. Us."
"I can't," John whispered, pained. "Ronon, I can't."
"You can," Ronon insisted, lifting John's hand to his lips and kissing the palm. "We can." He pushed aside the black wrist band to kiss the pale, delicate skin revealed. "Trust me. We'll go slow."
* * *
Feedback is welcome :)