Woot woot. New chapter. BIG chapter. Read with caution.
PS...this is for Marianne...and her wonderful ROZ stories...which she knows I adore...(hint, hint) GO READ!(/hint, hint)
"I remember it well
I was stood in your line
And your mouth, your mouth, your mind..."
-Damien Rice, I Remember
The room is dark, but they don't mind. In the dark, they can pretend they should be doing this. They can pretend that the only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed was here and now.
Clothes disappeared into the shadows, but she didn't feel naked. His hands were all over her, and she didn't feel vulnerable. He was strong and he could break her with little effort, yet he moved with only tenderness. From a warrior like him, it was unexpected. She'd expected roughness, speed, pain mixed with pleasure. She'd slightly anticipated it. She'd more than slightly fantasized of it. Instead, it was his gentleness that was her undoing.
He lowered her to the bed, sliding his callused from sparring hands down her sides, not touching anything considered "intimate" but making her shiver and bite her lip all the same. There's a vague knocking noise she thinks, and hopes, are his shoes. He slides in beside her, licking at her neck with a tongue that can only be described as "able", and there's another thump. Could it be her heart? Beating in time with his, louder than before?
No. It's the door.
Elizabeth wakes up and nearly screams in frustration. For the past two days, since they'd gotten back from Avaria, she'd had these dreams. They weren't really dreams, but memories. Guess who was her co-star in them? None other than that dread-locked hunk of sweating, muscled, beautiful ass-ed man.
Someone knocks at the door again. Not knocking, more banging. Elizabeth has a feeling that they'd been doing it a while. She slides from her large bed, a perk of being allowed to choose your quarters and pads over to the door. She gives no thought to grabbing a robe or anything to cover her body, since she long ago forgot about the nuances of being a woman in this place. More often, in her mind at least, Elizabeth was "leader" and not woman.
As she opened the door to Ronon Dex, she realized that this was a big oversight. Naturally, opening the door to your dream man (literally) in only a large t-shirt and...dear lord...granny panties...wouldn't happen to HER! But it did. Alas.
Elizabeth, ever the poker-faced diplomat, coolly faced the situation, even if her knees did jerk a little. "Ronon? Is there something I can help you with?" Though her words were polite, the tone was clearly, "WTF are you doing at my door at 2 am?"
Ronon held something up in his hand, and at first Elizabeth couldn't tell what it was. She was cautionary of touching him, the memory of what those hands could do still vivid in her mind, but she worked past it and slowly pulled at what he held and was offering. He had his hand clenched so just tugging did nothing. Finally she pulled it out of his hand, bringing it close to her side without looking. "Is that all?"
Ronon just cocked his head and watched her. Elizabeth sighed and looked down, finally realized just what she had in her hand. Without control, a blush started in her chest, and raced up her pace. She thanked the darkness and stepped farther into it, so as not to completely reveal her humiliation.
Finally, he speaks, and in the late hour, it rumbles out of him and into her room, echoing past her and back at him and into the hall. Elizabeth realizes as he speaks just how this would look to a passerby.
"They're yours?"
Elizabeth looks at him in the dark. He steps into the room, the door shutting behind him and it occurs to her that's he's the first visitor to step inside these quarters of her's. It's ironic, that. She's become friends with many people on Atlantis, close friends in the case of Sheppard's alpha team. Ronon was the only one on this base she could ever barely have a conversation with. From the very first day, she'd stuttered and flushed, and lost all control of what had formerly been great conversational skills. Finally, the only thing she could think to do, to retain what little face she had left, she'd avoided him. Even before the Avarian incident, she'd only seen him in team gatherings. Places where she couldn't act like a bashful schoolgirl she'd been years ago. Now here he was, in a place not even Sheppard had been, doing things she'd never even imagined he'd do. Okay...maybe she'd imagined, but she'd never admit it. In fact, what was she thinking about again?
Ronon steps closer and any thought Elizabeth might have been thinking about forgetting to think about went right out the window. Somehow, just being close to him did that. "They're yours." This time, not a question, a statement. A fact.
She nods anyways. She doesn't want to speak, almost afraid that she'd say something she shouldn't say, couldn't say. She was in charge here and thoughts like those that take place on the floor, in the shower, in her office, on her desk, and most often in her bed, were the kind that could severely damage her reputation if ever acted out.
Ronon nodded too, still stepping closer, forcing her back until she bumps into the small couch she has. Elizabeth wraps her hands around the top of it, keeping her hands behind her lest she do something...gasp...naughty.
Ronon sighed. "This changes things."
Elizabeth crinkles her forehead in confusion and asks, "How so?"
"We've mated. We will mate again."
Elizabeth joked on the air and if possible turned redder. "I doubt it."
Ronon smiled. "Why?"
"I am your superior. No, I am your superior's superior. This would be highly inappropriate. Not only would it undermine any authority I've garnered here, it would place both of us at risk for harassment and any number of issues."
Ronon just looked at her.
Elizabeth rushed on. "Not only that, we're not well-matched. I fight with words, you fight with...knives. I like salads, you like...all food in every form. I like to read, you like...what the hell do you like to do? Wait, what are you doing?" Elizabeth sidestepped the couch as Ronon continued to stalk her. Oh yeah, good work. He was stalking her. Like a hunter.
"I'm going to kiss you."
Elizabeth froze as she finally became trapped between her desk and her bookcase. "Why?"
"Because I can't remember doing it before."
"Oh." Elizabeth replied as if it made the most sense in the world.
Ronon gently wrapped his hand in her short dark hair, and pulled her out of the small alcove she'd become trapped in. She didn't resist. She couldn't.
So Ronon kissed her. Ronon Dex kissed Elizabeth Weir. For an instant, it all seemed so magical. Whenever a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. When Ronon kissed Elizabeth, it was more like a demon got its horns, but it was much more delightful.
(TO BE CONTINUED)...
Oops...did I cliffhang?
