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wickedwordsApparently, today is new fandoms and pairing day for me. This is the fourth story of the meme payment set, an SGA short (about 400 words). It's the first time I've written Ronon, so we'll see how it works. Thank you to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elynross for betaing this for me. No money made, no harm intended. All mistakes are my own.
Predator and Prey
Ronon is ready, hyperaware of the energy coursing through his body, his heart pounding, muscles tense. Sheppard posted him at a darkened corner of the gate room, watching his back. Lorne's team is late, which usually means trouble; Sheppard's hands are tightly clenched into fists, the muscles on his neck knotted into tight little balls, his body betraying his tension.
Even though he can't see Sheppard's face, Ronon knows that he's probably smiling, his tension hidden in that characteristic upright sprawl that leads others to underestimate him. Ronon knows it's posturing -- he can see the predator hidden under the mask of prey -- and knows the deception makes Sheppard a dangerous man. It's a game Ronon has played himself.
Ronon likes danger, and he likes Sheppard, and he likes seeing the predator unleashed. He's hard just from watching Sheppard move, watching him pretend to be prey. Much as he hates it, Ronon's good at waiting -- watching, too -- and his hands clench and relax reflexively, tiny little spiders of want, of need, crawling up his arms and legs, digging into his back and spine. He wants to fight or to fuck, preferably both. A low rumble tries to start in his chest, but Ronon breathes through it, making it silent and still as he waits.
He knows what Sheppard's skin feels like under his hands, knows how to make the knots in his back relax, and he wants, wants, wants to ease that tension right now. He wants to press Sheppard against the wall, run his hands down that chest, grind himself hard against Sheppard's cock.
The gate activates. Like Sheppard, Ronon moves into position, gun trained on the gate, the thrum of low-grade arousal heightening his senses.
Ronon's radio crackles. The right identification comes through, and Sheppard gives the signal to stand down, slinging his gun in front of him in at rest position. He's not really at rest, though, and neither is Ronon, but Sheppard fakes it for the soldiers around him, loose-limbed and relaxed as Lorne steps out onto the platform.
They mill and talk, and it all looks casual. Just for a second, though, Sheppard's gaze darts toward the shadows where Ronon waits, and his eyes betray him.
Ronon shivers slightly as realization strikes: tonight, he will be prey.
Author's notes: this is forthisisbone who asked for RONON!!!!!! And, um. Sheppard! Prompt: A dark corner near the gateroom.
elynross for betaing this for me. No money made, no harm intended. All mistakes are my own.Ronon is ready, hyperaware of the energy coursing through his body, his heart pounding, muscles tense. Sheppard posted him at a darkened corner of the gate room, watching his back. Lorne's team is late, which usually means trouble; Sheppard's hands are tightly clenched into fists, the muscles on his neck knotted into tight little balls, his body betraying his tension.
Even though he can't see Sheppard's face, Ronon knows that he's probably smiling, his tension hidden in that characteristic upright sprawl that leads others to underestimate him. Ronon knows it's posturing -- he can see the predator hidden under the mask of prey -- and knows the deception makes Sheppard a dangerous man. It's a game Ronon has played himself.
Ronon likes danger, and he likes Sheppard, and he likes seeing the predator unleashed. He's hard just from watching Sheppard move, watching him pretend to be prey. Much as he hates it, Ronon's good at waiting -- watching, too -- and his hands clench and relax reflexively, tiny little spiders of want, of need, crawling up his arms and legs, digging into his back and spine. He wants to fight or to fuck, preferably both. A low rumble tries to start in his chest, but Ronon breathes through it, making it silent and still as he waits.
He knows what Sheppard's skin feels like under his hands, knows how to make the knots in his back relax, and he wants, wants, wants to ease that tension right now. He wants to press Sheppard against the wall, run his hands down that chest, grind himself hard against Sheppard's cock.
The gate activates. Like Sheppard, Ronon moves into position, gun trained on the gate, the thrum of low-grade arousal heightening his senses.
Ronon's radio crackles. The right identification comes through, and Sheppard gives the signal to stand down, slinging his gun in front of him in at rest position. He's not really at rest, though, and neither is Ronon, but Sheppard fakes it for the soldiers around him, loose-limbed and relaxed as Lorne steps out onto the platform.
They mill and talk, and it all looks casual. Just for a second, though, Sheppard's gaze darts toward the shadows where Ronon waits, and his eyes betray him.
Ronon shivers slightly as realization strikes: tonight, he will be prey.
Author's notes: this is for
thisisbone who asked for RONON!!!!!! And, um. Sheppard! Prompt: A dark corner near the gateroom.
