When Life Gives You the Skin of Rattan Vines

May. 22nd, 2008 10:13 am

Fandom: SGA

Characters: Ronon/Jennifer

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Smut

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Summary: He pulls her in close to his chest, one strong arm wrapping around her waist, nuzzling against her hair when he says, "Yeah. That's why I'm making the bed."

Kink: (2) Caning

Author's Note: What? It's a legitimate meaning of the word. Why yes, I do think I'm being cute. I regret nothing! (I kid. I realize this is a complete bastardization of the prompt, and so there's another use of it, as well. I'm just being silly with this one, and not using it for points.)


Jennifer walks into her quarters to find Ronon sitting naked in the middle of her floor. That is, in itself, not exactly surprising. Ronon seems to view personal quarters as official pants-free zones. Jennifer sees no reason to disabuse him of this notion, because, well, he's naked. She likes him that way.

However, there are significant amount of brown once-plants sitting around her room, and those are something of a concern. Jennifer pokes curiously at a bundle beside her door, blinking, finally managing to ask, "What are you doing?"

Ronon grunts something unintelligible, bent over whatever it is he's doing. He's got his dreads bound back, his expression tight and focused as he does something to the big whatever-it-is sitting in the middle of her floor.

Jennifer kneels beside him, biting her bottom lip at the flex of the muscles through his shoulders and arms. She had been, briefly, considering asking him to remove his little project from her room, but now she's thinking she can probably let it stay. She clears her throat, "Ronon?"

This time Ronon looks up, blinking slowly, like he's getting his bearings back. When he finally focuses on her, he breaks into a wide grin that she can't help returning. Her stomach fills with warmth, she can almost feel the blush rising in her cheeks. He tends to have that effect on her.

After a moment she becomes aware that they're just staring at each other, smiling, and looks away, asking once more, "What are you doing?"

Ronon shrugs, "Making us a bed."

Jennifer absorbs that, staring at the possibly-vines that are sitting around her room. She looks back at what Ronon had been working on, squinting as she tries to see the bed that it, apparently, has the potential to be. She's not really seeing it. And besides, "We already have a bed. Two beds, actually, because we each have our own quarters, although yours are bigger and have easier access to the infirmary and I was thinking I should, um, stay there more often."

That gets another grunt, as Ronon pushes to his feet. He reaches down, offering one big hand to her, and she lets him pull her up. He pulls her in close to his chest, one strong arm wrapping around her waist, nuzzling against her hair when he says, "Yeah. That's why I'm making the bed."

Jennifer considers pursuing this line of thought further, until he explains adequately. But he smells good, and he's very warm, and naked, and it's been a long day. If he wants to make them a bed, then he can make them a bed. It's hardly the end of the world. Jennifer melts into his embrace, winding one of her arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss against his chest.

When Ronon rumbles she can feel it, a transfer between their skin. Jennifer finds herself smiling, moaning softly when Ronon pulls the hem of her shirt out of her pants, flattening his big hand across the small of her back. She says, soft against his skin, "We can still use the other beds, right?"

Ronon laughs, sliding his hand down, cupping her ass and lifting her like she weighs nothing. Jennifer finds laughter escaping her throat, wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging to his solid body as he turns. Her quarters aren't very big, no one's are, really, and he reaches the bed in a few steps.

Ronon lifts one knee up onto the mattress, then the other, still holding her, his laughter fading. Jennifer can feel his erection bumping against the back of her thigh, as she tilts her face up to look at him. His expression has gone serious, and she reaches out to pull his hair loose, watching him smile again as it falls around his shoulder.

She asks, when after a long moment he just keeps watching her, holding her easily, "Gonna put me down?"

"Maybe," but he does lean forward, lowering her down to the mattress, finally kissing her. His hand stays on her ass, squeezing and holding her flush against his body. Jennifer lets her eyes slip shut, soaking in the sensation, mapping his broad back with her hands. There used to be scars across his skin, she knows, but they're gone now. All she can feel are the muscles moving under his smooth skin, so much strength restrained there.

She can feel his other hand sliding under the hem of her shirt, his long fingers moving across her skin, up over her ribs. Jennifer shivers at the press of his thick fingers under the edge of her bra, feeling him smile against her lips, tugging on his hair in retaliation.

Ronon pulls back enough to grin at her, before dropping a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, his beard rough against her skin when he mouths his way across her jaw. Under her shirt, the tips of his fingers are dancing teasingly against the underside of her breast. She gasps up to the ceiling, gripping at his arm, trying to kick her shoes off where her legs are still folded around him.

When her shoes bounce off his back en route to the floor he grunts, pulling away from her neck to look at her. Jennifer shrugs, grinning and unrepentant. Her feet hurt from being on them all day, and she cracks her toes, just to watch the way it makes him squint his eyes up. And then she grinds her hips up against him, just to make sure he stays on track.

Ronon growls, shifting back on his heels and pulling her with him. They end up nose to nose, and she leans in to kiss him, his mouth warm and welcoming. His big hand is sliding up her back, following the line of her spine, taking her shirt with it. When he reaches her shoulders she obligingly leans back far enough for him to pull it over her head.

Ronon's gaze drops immediately to her breasts, which is oddly gratifying, and makes her grin. Her bra is rather on the boring side, not that it matters. She feels his fingers fumble over the latch for just a second, and then it's loose and she can shrug the damn thing off of her shoulders.

Jennifer starts, "I hate those—" and never gets to finish. Ronon drops her back to the mattress, curling up over her, dropping a flurry of kisses across her skin before his mouth brushes the curve of her breast. Ronon's hands are both on her ribs, his thumbs and fingers cupping the swell of her breasts. Jennifer finishes, "—oh."

Ronon has a thing about her breasts, his expression focused and intent as he licks over the tip of one nipple, which tingles in the wake of the attention. Jennifer moans, feeling her skin warm, her heart beating faster, sliding her hands across his shoulders and neck, petting at his skin.

When he closes his lips over her nipple, humming in the back of his throat, it sends a jolt of heat down past her stomach. Jennifer shifts her hips restlessly, looking for something solid, some pressure, and Ronon shifts, sliding one of his thighs high between her legs.

Ronon pulls his mouth off his skin only when he's ready, long minutes later, wasting no time crossing to her other breast. Her nipple is tight and wet, catching the light and reflecting it, the burst of sensation from the cool air surrounding it dragging another groan from her throat. She slides one hand down Ronon's back, grabbing his ass and trying to pull him as close as she can get him.

Ronon echoes the sound, his mouth coming off her skin when he shifts to bury his face in the space between her breasts, breathing hard. She can feel his eyelashes fluttering against her skin, the rough press of his beard further down. His hands, still curling around her ribs, are all contained strength, cradling her as though she is something precious. He is shaking.

Jennifer curls her shoulders up off the bed as much as she's able, wrapping her arms around his head, holding him. He gets like this, sometimes, and she doesn't know which sadness it is that prompts it. He has too many to count.

After a long moment he shifts, pressing a kiss to the underside of her breast, keeping his face hidden. She lets him, still stroking his shoulders and back. He kisses down across her ribs, across her stomach, where her muscles bunch and jump in anticipation. His hands follow the path his mouth blazes, rough calluses making her shiver where they pass over sensitive skin.

Ronon shifts back unto his heels again when he reaches her waistband, and she slides her hand around his neck, cupping his jaw. When he meets her gaze his eyes are clear, and after a moment he smiles. She smiles back, feeling sweet relief.

And then he's opening the button on her pants, pulling her zipper down, winding his fingers over the waistband. He pulls her pants off one leg at a time, his hand tracing big and warm up and down her thigh as he does. She's trembling, muscles quivering by the time he drops the pants to the ground.

He grins when he looks down at her panties, and she can feel herself blushing. The huge smiley face had seemed like a good idea at the time, and she'd mostly kept them for the silliness factor. They are not, however, by any stretch of the imagination, sexy. At least until Ronon leans down and brushes a kiss over the bright yellow smiley face, sliding his hand down and around her thigh.

Ronon doesn't take her panties off right away, instead running his knuckles lightly down them, leaning his cheek against her thigh. He's grinning, his voice rough, "Wet for me." He presses his thumb, teasingly, over her center, and she tries to push into the pressure.

He turns his head, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her thigh as he twists his fingers, sliding two in through the side of her underwear. The first brush of them against her aching skin makes her gasp, her legs opening wider all on their own,

Ronon slides one finger into her, she can hear his rough intake of breath, can feel him shudder. When he slides it back out, his skin is slick from her, and he eases his touch across her clit. Jennifer shivers, rocking up into the touch, as he shifts up her body, taking one of her nipples into his mouth again.

Jennifer's entire body feels tight and hot, on fire under her skin. She gasps, wordless sounds tumbling off her lips as he rubs perfect circles with the pad of his finger and flicks his tongue across the tip of her breast. She can feel the wave of her orgasm cresting, and lets it happen, warmth and heaviness bursting through her. Ronon stretches up to kiss her, and she feels clumsy and needy, her hands gripping at his shoulders and upper arms as he eases her through it.

When he pulls away he kisses her forehead, her temple, his voice whisper low, "Can I?"

She doesn't really know why he feels the need to ask every time, but it's not a bad thing. She nods, still feeling a bit disconnected. Her legs feel heavy when he lifts them to pull her panties off, finally. She looks up at the sound of a condom packet tearing up, because she likes to watch his expression when he rolls it on. She's never seen such concentration given to the task before. It makes her chest ache, emotion that she hasn't chosen to contemplate yet adding another layer of warmth and joy to the sensations she's floating in.

Ronon kisses her again when he pushes into her, his breathing going shaky as he sinks into her body. Jennifer wraps her legs carefully around his waist when he settles against her. He's breathing raggedly against her mouth, his eyes barely open, his expression slack with pleasure.

Jennifer is aware that she's cooing softly, not really words, rubbing her hand up and down his arm, across his trembling shoulders. He starts moving slowly, his breath catching every thrust. It's slow and jerky, and she doesn't think she'll be able to get off again, but that's okay.

Ronon makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat, kissing her hard and messy, thrusting hard a handful of times before he quakes, coming with a hoarse shout. Jennifer rubs his back until the tremors pass, and then he pulls out of her, tying the condom off quickly and efficiently, getting up and padding across to her bathroom to throw it away, returning with a wet washcloth. She had done that the first time they had sex, returned to find him frowning, and he'd done it every time since.

Jennifer wipes them both off, squirming across and settling against him when she's done. Ronon isn't talkative ever, and post-coitus he's not even monosyllabic. Jennifer can't say she really minds. She'd never been very good at pillow talk. It's much easier to press up against his warmth and let her eyes drift shut.

She's almost asleep, content and drowsy, when she feels Ronon shift, pressing a kiss against the top of her head before settling again.

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