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madwomanwithaboxTitle: Old War Wound
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Ronon/Teyla
Rating: NC-17 for smut
Het/Slash/Both: Het
Warning: Spoilers for S2 & S3, SATEDA specifically
Timeline: around the time SATEDA takes place, either shortly before or shortly after
A/N: Done for Medie's Porn Battle (prompt: sparring), and will not be the only fic I write for this little foofooraw. THIS IS MY LAST FICTODAY, I PROMISE. Really. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes and general suckiness are still mine alone.
For the sickly![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rogueapprentice, because we both know that Tiberius and Cordelia wish that this was them. You know what I'm talking about. ;p. For lollobrigida because the Ronon love is...yes, of course: ALL HER FAULT. And, for foxxcub, the newest SG:A initiate in training. Wait'll you get to Season 2, dahling. Juuuust wait. Hee.
* * * * *
His blood was roaring in his ears, heart pounding in his throat as the soft sound of heavy breathing and staffs smacking rang out through the gym.
She was fast. He was faster. He was agile. She was more agile, and limber as well.
Teyla was a challenge right up until the moment he pinned her against the wall.
As Ronon leaned in and kissed her hard, he had just enough presence of mind to reach over and yank one of the control crystals out of the door’s control panel, tossing it on the mat before grabbing her shoulders and pinning her to the wall from knee to forehead, resting his against Teyla’s to lock his gaze with hers as he broke the kiss, jamming his knee between her legs with a snarl.
Her gasp set his blood on fire, and her reflexive roll of hips against the pressure stripped away the last of his control. The sparse, elegant garb she exercised in was ruined by the time he was done with it, and soon her own hands were equally as eager, tearing his dark brown tunic to be able to slide her hands over his chest and shoulders, nails raking over bare skin enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood.
Ronon almost wished she would.
He saw the shock in her face as he dropped suddenly to his knees, roughly stripping away her loose skirt before burying his head between her legs, tasting her with rough, slow sweeps of his tongue. Ronon heard her cry out, an animal keening sound rising from her throat as her whole body tensed…he had to wonder if a man had ever done this for her before. The idea that he might be the first pleased him, so much that he left her sex to trail warm, openmouthed kisses against her inner thigh before suddenly swinging her leg up over his shoulder and nipping at the skin, biting and sucking until he’d left a bruise…small and dark, but his.
This was his…for now.
Returning his attention to her arousal, Ronon lost himself in her again, her taste flooding his tongue as it slid inside her, breath warm against her body for a moment before he withdrew, teasing her clit before burying his mouth in her center again. The groans, growls, and cries she made filled his ears, made him hard, but his hands smoothed over her legs rather than his own aching flesh. Her knees squeezed his head as her hips moved with his tongue, and he let her ride him…gloried in it, didn’t try to stop the tidal wave of desire threatening to crush him…and didn’t try to find his own satisfaction.
She came hard, almost violently, his tongue inside her body and his hands on her thighs, her hips, her ass, drinking her in, letting her pleasure crash over him instead of his own.
Ronon waited until the tremors were still before he withdrew, lips glistening and face flushed. He waited until she could stand on her own again before he stood up, helping her with her ruined clothing.
His hand flew down to clasp her wrist, firm but gentle when she reached for him after redressing.
“Ronon…why will you not let me…”
Soft female features filled his mind, the memory of pale, satiny skin and silken heat and musical laughter with soft smiles cutting through his heart like the pain of a Wraith feeding…like the pain of watching Melina burn before his eyes.
Ronon simply shook his head as he stripped off his torn shirt and headed for the door of the gym, licking the last of Teyla’s taste from his lips.
“I can’t.” he replied gruffly, just before striding out of the gym. “Old war wound.”
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Ronon/Teyla
Rating: NC-17 for smut
Het/Slash/Both: Het
Warning: Spoilers for S2 & S3, SATEDA specifically
Timeline: around the time SATEDA takes place, either shortly before or shortly after
A/N: Done for Medie's Porn Battle (prompt: sparring), and will not be the only fic I write for this little foofooraw. THIS IS MY LAST FIC
For the sickly
rogueapprentice, because we both know that Tiberius and Cordelia wish that this was them. You know what I'm talking about. ;p. For lollobrigida because the Ronon love is...yes, of course: ALL HER FAULT. And, for foxxcub, the newest SG:A initiate in training. Wait'll you get to Season 2, dahling. Juuuust wait. Hee.* * * * *
His blood was roaring in his ears, heart pounding in his throat as the soft sound of heavy breathing and staffs smacking rang out through the gym.
She was fast. He was faster. He was agile. She was more agile, and limber as well.
Teyla was a challenge right up until the moment he pinned her against the wall.
As Ronon leaned in and kissed her hard, he had just enough presence of mind to reach over and yank one of the control crystals out of the door’s control panel, tossing it on the mat before grabbing her shoulders and pinning her to the wall from knee to forehead, resting his against Teyla’s to lock his gaze with hers as he broke the kiss, jamming his knee between her legs with a snarl.
Her gasp set his blood on fire, and her reflexive roll of hips against the pressure stripped away the last of his control. The sparse, elegant garb she exercised in was ruined by the time he was done with it, and soon her own hands were equally as eager, tearing his dark brown tunic to be able to slide her hands over his chest and shoulders, nails raking over bare skin enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood.
Ronon almost wished she would.
He saw the shock in her face as he dropped suddenly to his knees, roughly stripping away her loose skirt before burying his head between her legs, tasting her with rough, slow sweeps of his tongue. Ronon heard her cry out, an animal keening sound rising from her throat as her whole body tensed…he had to wonder if a man had ever done this for her before. The idea that he might be the first pleased him, so much that he left her sex to trail warm, openmouthed kisses against her inner thigh before suddenly swinging her leg up over his shoulder and nipping at the skin, biting and sucking until he’d left a bruise…small and dark, but his.
This was his…for now.
Returning his attention to her arousal, Ronon lost himself in her again, her taste flooding his tongue as it slid inside her, breath warm against her body for a moment before he withdrew, teasing her clit before burying his mouth in her center again. The groans, growls, and cries she made filled his ears, made him hard, but his hands smoothed over her legs rather than his own aching flesh. Her knees squeezed his head as her hips moved with his tongue, and he let her ride him…gloried in it, didn’t try to stop the tidal wave of desire threatening to crush him…and didn’t try to find his own satisfaction.
She came hard, almost violently, his tongue inside her body and his hands on her thighs, her hips, her ass, drinking her in, letting her pleasure crash over him instead of his own.
Ronon waited until the tremors were still before he withdrew, lips glistening and face flushed. He waited until she could stand on her own again before he stood up, helping her with her ruined clothing.
His hand flew down to clasp her wrist, firm but gentle when she reached for him after redressing.
“Ronon…why will you not let me…”
Soft female features filled his mind, the memory of pale, satiny skin and silken heat and musical laughter with soft smiles cutting through his heart like the pain of a Wraith feeding…like the pain of watching Melina burn before his eyes.
Ronon simply shook his head as he stripped off his torn shirt and headed for the door of the gym, licking the last of Teyla’s taste from his lips.
“I can’t.” he replied gruffly, just before striding out of the gym. “Old war wound.”
