A Little Understanding Ronon had been watching him.  John was sure of it.  He could feel it on the back of his neck, up the back of his spine.  It was... unnerving. This had been going on for weeks.  It was enough to make John edgy, itchy, unfocused.  He hated it.  He didn't know what the man's problem was, but he was going to find out.  Right now. People took no notice as John strode to the hallway that contained Ronon's quarters.  Why would they?  Nothing unusual here.  John stopped outside the door, hand raised, ready to announce himself.  He froze.  Just exactly what was he supposed to say?  How did he think he was going to broach this subject without sounding like a complete idiot?  He'd better think about this some more...make a plan. Then the door opened and John stood.  Rooted. Ronon leaned both hands high on the door jam and leaned forward slightly, his skin wet with sweat; trails of it running from his neck down over his throat and farther down until it crisscrossed his chest. John swallowed and looked up, into the eyes.  Eyes of a predator more than a man.  Dangerous.  Calculating. "I was wondering how long it would take."  Ronon pushed back and stepped aside.  From most people it would have been an invitation.  From him, it was an order. Before he realized what he was doing, John stepped inside.  His eyes caught the sticks on the bed, the sweat stained shirt.  He felt his skin prickle.  It looked as though Teyla had made him work for his pay today.  The adrenaline was probably still flowing.  John shook his head before turning. "I came by to talk-" The sound of Ronon slamming his hand against the door's locking plate stopped him cold. "No, you didn't," Ronon all but growled. John's brow furrowed.  "'Scuse me?" "You didn't come by to talk about anything."  Ronon stepped around John slowly, letting his shoulder graze and leave a small, wet smear on John's jacket.  He took a towel from the end of the bed and began wiping down his torso.  "There's something you want." "Just a little friendly conversation," John said, his mouth tilting in a fashion Ronon had become all too familiar with. "You're a bad liar, Sheppard." John caught and held those smokey eyes for a second too long; and he knew it. Ronon gave a small laugh under his breath and tossed the towel at John.  "You want the same thing I do." There was no sense in pretending at this point and John knew that.  He may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he wasn't an idiot.  He would be an idiot, however, if he admitted that Ronon had him pegged.  He had to get out of here, his dignity still somewhat intact.  He opened his mouth to tell Ronon he was dreaming when instead he said, "Yeah." One half-stride and the man was in John's space.  "Come back when you're ready to do something about it."  He took the towel back and disappeared into the bathroom. John let himself out, a little stunned, a lot confused.  He turned to look at the door like it would hold a clue to what had just happened.  Before he could stop himself, he held his hands to his face and inhaled.  The sensation that speared through him was almost like pain, but good...oh so good.  He balled both hands into fists and concentrated on keeping his steps even and measured as he sought the sanctuary of his own quarters. ++++ It had been three days since the last forced visit to the infirmary, thanks to an ill-timed visit from a Wraith culling sweep. "John?" Elizabeth's voice startled John out of his reverie.  He turned to look at her and gave her a weak smile.  "Hey." "Carson said you should be taking it easy for a few days." "Nah, I'm alright," John said as he leaned against the railing.  The cool breeze on his neck and back felt good.  "Just thinking." "We've got a lot to think about.  Seems like things just never let up." "Guess not," John said.  He didn't want to be rude to Elizabeth, but his mind was a million miles away.  Or rather, several corridors...and a few floors away. "You've got the next three days to do all the thinking you want," she said with an understanding smile and a sympathetic pat on the arm.  "Let me know if I can help."  With barely a sound she turned and walked away again. Weeks ago he may have accepted that invitation, but now...now he had only one thing on his mind.  It had consumed his thoughts, his fantasies, his dreams, his nightmares.  This preoccupation pulled up the dark, secret things about himself that he never wanted anyone else to know; things held in that precious place that was his alone. Every time he'd been around Ronon since their 'talk', he'd tried to ignore the almost overwhelming need to follow him back to his quarters an take him up on his offer.  He wasn't dramatic enough to think this had anything to do with hearts, flowers, soul mates and fate.  He liked the guy, he did.  He'd like to take him to some of his old haunts, buy him a beer, shoot the bull - but that was a far cry from what he was contemplating doing with the man.  He didn't know what it was exactly, but every time he thought of what it might be like, what he may be in for, his balls drew up, his dick got hard and he felt like he could barely breathe.  He needed what Ronon was offering like he'd never needed anything else before in his life. John knew himself well enough to know he was going to give in - it wasn't a question anymore.  He may as well face the music. ++++ Midnight on Atlantis was a magical time.  The city glittered with small lights, seeming to hover over the water like something out of a bedtime story.  As John walked along the corridors, he could almost convince himself he was back in one of his dreams.  Only in his dreams, he wasn't afraid.  In his dreams he was hungry...so hungry. When Ronon's door slid open, he wondered if the man was telepathic.  Or maybe his heart really beating hard enough to be heard in Ronon's quarters.  He took one final look up and down the hallway before stepping over the threshold.  Ronon stood watching him, measuring him, looking for weakness. "How you wanna do this?" John asked, his voice dry and cracking in his throat.  He gave a small cough. "Take your clothes off.  Get on the bed."  Without further instruction, Ronon turned and began removing his own garments as he walked toward the sleeping area.  By the time John joined him, the tall man, so chiseled and sculpted by a Runner's life, stood quietly in the blue-silver light of the moon, the thin drapes over the open windows casting misty shadows over the perfect body. John stripped quietly then sat on the bed, forearms on his legs, fingers laced loosely.  "It's been awhile, so...take it easy, huh?" "Lay down," Ronon said, his voice more growl than spoken word. John did so, stiffly.  His eyes grew large as Ronon crawled to loom over him.  "I have no interest in hurting you," he said.  "That's not what this is about." John almost laughed because the head of Ronon's erection was currently nudging his balls and the man was nowhere close to touching him full-body yet.  "Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say from where you stand." "I'm good at this," Ronon said, his face softening into a rare smile.  "Don't worry."  With that, he lowered himself down, covering John's body, his mouth beginning to feast on the skin of John's shoulder and neck. "Christ," John whispered as Ronon began a sinuous undulation against him.  A few more minutes and John was gone - lost in the feeling and strength of another male body touching him in ways a woman never could.  The weight, the heat, the press of a male cock right up tight against him, the restrained power.  He'd missed this.  He hadn't realized how much until right now - this very moment. Ronon was eating him alive; licking and sucking until his skin seemed to buzz beneath the man's hands and tongue.  John was wild with need, wanted to give back but was held at bay by the man who was very obviously in charge of the proceedings.  When the tormenting mouth wrapped itself around his cock, John curled up in surprise, grunting out his approval, then lay back and arched his hips off the bed as wet fingers slid inside him. "When the hell did you grab lube?" he asked stupidly and felt Ronon laugh around him.  At last, John laughed, too, and he felt his body relax into what was being done.  "Holy shit, that's good," he groaned. Ronon worked him open, roughly, the way he liked it.  None of that careful probing around.  Ronon knew what to do and he did it - deftly and expertly.  John spread his legs, grabbing them behind the knees and Ronon let out something resembling a low, hungry rumble. John didn't open his eyes to see when he felt the bed dip and shake as Ronon repositioned himself.  He took a breath when he felt the round head press against him, then let it out when the man pushed forward, breathing through the breaching burn. True to his word, Ronon knew exactly what he was doing, gave John a few minutes to adjust, then began thrusting, constantly increasing the pressure, taking more and more of what he needed until the only sounds to be heard were the rhythmic panting and firm slapping of flesh against flesh. John didn't have the breath to moan, but his body was telling Ronon everything he needed to say.  Yes, it was good.  Yes, he needed this more than he could say.  Yes, he could take it harder.  Please god he could take it harder. "John," Ronon said in a strangled warning. John slapped his hands around the biceps of the man above him and, with a soft cry, felt his body let loose just as Ronon reached his peak. Both men struggled through the aftershocks, worked their bodies against one another's until there just wasn't anything left, before they collapsed exhausted and spent into the bed. John awoke hours later, sore, messy and with that horrible dribbling feeling around his ass.  Ronon had made him sleep in the wet spot.  He reached over and shoved the man's shoulder.  "You couldn't wake me up to go get a towel or something?" All he got in return was a grunt. John staggered to the bathroom and showered quickly after spending a few necessary minutes on the toilet.  He came out, dressed and gave a look back at the bed before he left.  Something inside him was very different, but he wasn't sure what. ++++ Ronon walked into Elizabeth's office and leaned against the wall.  John began his report with a nod in the man's direction. ++++ John watched Teyla put Rodney on the mat for the second time in a row.  She smiled in that smug-yet-not way she had.  "You have not been practicing," she chided gently. "Unlike some people on this station, I've been busy doing actual work," Rodney sniped in John's direction. John simply smiled and shook his head.  Ronon came to stand beside him, watching the proceedings with ill-concealed disdain.  "He just won't learn, will he?" "Nope," John chuckled.  He gave a quick look to the man who merely rolled his eyes and readied himself for his round of sparring. John felt more settled than he had in years.  Unlike most people John knew, Ronon got it, got him.  Kindred, brothers, fellow warriors who needed someone who understood and accepted without assumptions or judgments or demands; who took him on his own terms and gave back the same.  And that's all anyone could ask for, he told himself, just a little understanding. FB may be sent to claforce@plotexpo.com