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TITLE: Element Of Distraction
SUMMARY: Rodney catches Ronon's grin and doesn't know whether to blush or bluster.
CATEGORY: vignette, PWP, Rodney/Ronon
RATING: NC-17, explicit sexual content
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, why do I put this down, it's not as though everyone doesn't already know it!
NOTES: Third in the Rodney/Ronon series - sequel to Sleight Of Hand, Slip Of Tongue and First Contact. I'm rather slow at getting these out. Expect the next one in October! *g*
- Element Of Distraction -
Rodney's restless and grumpy.
Between dinner and the night's entertainment - probably something boring and cultural - they were going to be shown a room which apparently contained sketches of Ancient devices. Unfortunately, the Keeper of the Secrets took a dislike to Rodney's constant pestering, and dictated that only Sheppard and Teyla could see them.
Teyla promised to make drawing of them but it's not the same, and Rodney's pissed off because he was looking forward to seeing those drawings and trying to work out if they're the same as any of the things they've got in Atlantis and there's no way that Teyla - or Sheppard, for that matter - is going to be able to draw with the kind of accuracy that's necessary to determine these details.
Ronon isn't helping.
He's pacing the small room like a condemned man in a prison cell, all long legs and restless energy. Dreadlocks flare out as Ronon turns on his heel with perfect grace, but Rodney's not in the mood to admire.
"Do you mind?"
Dark eyes flash his way. "Nope."
He grits his teeth. "This is ridiculous, you know! I should be in there looking at the plans, not Sheppard and Teyla."
Ronon shrugs and light skitters across the fine, smooth muscles of his bare shoulders. "You're not."
"Oh, brilliant observational skills, Sherlock!"
This time the proud face turns fully towards Rodney, and amusement wars with exasperation. "Are you going to be like this until they come back!"
"Yes!"
The breath huffs out of Ronon. "Not if I can help it."
Two strides has him in front of Rodney, one hand pushes him back against the wall. Rodney's initial protest of 'What are you doing?' is lost beneath a warm, firmly-placed finger that isn't really silencing him but somehow keeps him from saying anything.
At least, it keeps Rodney from saying anything until he feels large fingers cupping him through his trousers, intimate and unexpected. "Wait, what are you--?"
Ronon snorts as his fingers - surprisingly nimble for such a large man - get into Rodney's boxer shorts. "Distraction."
"I.. But I'm not... I don't..." Except he is and he does. Rodney's body might be leading the charge with a sudden blaze of heat in his balls as long fingers stroke the bare length of his shaft, but his mind's not quite as far behind as he thinks it should be.
His hand is almost shaking as he reaches down and closes his fingers around his team-mate's wrist. Ronon's skin is hot, and rough-tipped fingers squeeze Rodney's tip before riding down his shaft until the head rubs against the calloused edge of Ronon's palm.
It's like fire and freedom, exhilarating as watching the last pieces fall into place in the solution to the problem, as the pleasure Rodney knows when the solution to something - an equation, an experiment, a theory - comes together in the lab, broad as the grin on Ronon's face as he watches Rodney pant, and Rodney feels hot and terrified and wonderful beneath that dark, gleaming gaze.
And then Ronon kneels down...
"Oh God..."
He watches his cock vanish between full lips, sliding hot and wet into the wide mouth. A long slow intake, then a few faster pumps. Mesmerising. Rodney pants, unable to drag his eyes away from the sight of Ronon giving him head. Tension builds in his belly. Pressure coils in his groin. The edge of Ronon's beard scrapes against his shaft and Rodney moans - yes, moans - and his fingers grope for something to cling to - anything.
His balls are stimulated in tiny circles as the long tongue teases him, taunts him, drives him wild as it snakes out over sensitised flesh, as it samples the folds of his head. This time, his hands are shaking as he grips Ronon's shoulders, letting his fingers dig hot, smooth skin - tactile pleasure.
Rodney's never had a blow job like this. He's not sure he wants another one like it. He doesn't think he could bear it twice.
Yes. Oh, God. YES...
He comes viciously, with light and colour and feeling, like Beethoven's Ninth in surround sound with his heartbeat playing the timpani in the background. And Ronon doesn't stop sucking on him, but takes him, tastes him, swallows him in an intimacy that riots through Rodney's body like an electric shock.
In the breathless, aching aftermath of orgasm, Rodney can't think straight, can barely breathe.
When Ronon offers him a canteen of water, before gulping half of it down himself, Rodney catches the broad grin and doesn't know whether to blush or bluster.
- fin -
SUMMARY: Rodney catches Ronon's grin and doesn't know whether to blush or bluster.
CATEGORY: vignette, PWP, Rodney/Ronon
RATING: NC-17, explicit sexual content
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, why do I put this down, it's not as though everyone doesn't already know it!
NOTES: Third in the Rodney/Ronon series - sequel to Sleight Of Hand, Slip Of Tongue and First Contact. I'm rather slow at getting these out. Expect the next one in October! *g*
- Element Of Distraction -
Rodney's restless and grumpy.
Between dinner and the night's entertainment - probably something boring and cultural - they were going to be shown a room which apparently contained sketches of Ancient devices. Unfortunately, the Keeper of the Secrets took a dislike to Rodney's constant pestering, and dictated that only Sheppard and Teyla could see them.
Teyla promised to make drawing of them but it's not the same, and Rodney's pissed off because he was looking forward to seeing those drawings and trying to work out if they're the same as any of the things they've got in Atlantis and there's no way that Teyla - or Sheppard, for that matter - is going to be able to draw with the kind of accuracy that's necessary to determine these details.
Ronon isn't helping.
He's pacing the small room like a condemned man in a prison cell, all long legs and restless energy. Dreadlocks flare out as Ronon turns on his heel with perfect grace, but Rodney's not in the mood to admire.
"Do you mind?"
Dark eyes flash his way. "Nope."
He grits his teeth. "This is ridiculous, you know! I should be in there looking at the plans, not Sheppard and Teyla."
Ronon shrugs and light skitters across the fine, smooth muscles of his bare shoulders. "You're not."
"Oh, brilliant observational skills, Sherlock!"
This time the proud face turns fully towards Rodney, and amusement wars with exasperation. "Are you going to be like this until they come back!"
"Yes!"
The breath huffs out of Ronon. "Not if I can help it."
Two strides has him in front of Rodney, one hand pushes him back against the wall. Rodney's initial protest of 'What are you doing?' is lost beneath a warm, firmly-placed finger that isn't really silencing him but somehow keeps him from saying anything.
At least, it keeps Rodney from saying anything until he feels large fingers cupping him through his trousers, intimate and unexpected. "Wait, what are you--?"
Ronon snorts as his fingers - surprisingly nimble for such a large man - get into Rodney's boxer shorts. "Distraction."
"I.. But I'm not... I don't..." Except he is and he does. Rodney's body might be leading the charge with a sudden blaze of heat in his balls as long fingers stroke the bare length of his shaft, but his mind's not quite as far behind as he thinks it should be.
His hand is almost shaking as he reaches down and closes his fingers around his team-mate's wrist. Ronon's skin is hot, and rough-tipped fingers squeeze Rodney's tip before riding down his shaft until the head rubs against the calloused edge of Ronon's palm.
It's like fire and freedom, exhilarating as watching the last pieces fall into place in the solution to the problem, as the pleasure Rodney knows when the solution to something - an equation, an experiment, a theory - comes together in the lab, broad as the grin on Ronon's face as he watches Rodney pant, and Rodney feels hot and terrified and wonderful beneath that dark, gleaming gaze.
And then Ronon kneels down...
"Oh God..."
He watches his cock vanish between full lips, sliding hot and wet into the wide mouth. A long slow intake, then a few faster pumps. Mesmerising. Rodney pants, unable to drag his eyes away from the sight of Ronon giving him head. Tension builds in his belly. Pressure coils in his groin. The edge of Ronon's beard scrapes against his shaft and Rodney moans - yes, moans - and his fingers grope for something to cling to - anything.
His balls are stimulated in tiny circles as the long tongue teases him, taunts him, drives him wild as it snakes out over sensitised flesh, as it samples the folds of his head. This time, his hands are shaking as he grips Ronon's shoulders, letting his fingers dig hot, smooth skin - tactile pleasure.
Rodney's never had a blow job like this. He's not sure he wants another one like it. He doesn't think he could bear it twice.
Yes. Oh, God. YES...
He comes viciously, with light and colour and feeling, like Beethoven's Ninth in surround sound with his heartbeat playing the timpani in the background. And Ronon doesn't stop sucking on him, but takes him, tastes him, swallows him in an intimacy that riots through Rodney's body like an electric shock.
In the breathless, aching aftermath of orgasm, Rodney can't think straight, can barely breathe.
When Ronon offers him a canteen of water, before gulping half of it down himself, Rodney catches the broad grin and doesn't know whether to blush or bluster.
- fin -