Ok only one more chapter after this. Sorry it took me so very long! I was really busy and didn't have time to finesse this chapter until now. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and understand the feelings that I wanted to convey here through what I included and what I left out.
She sat in her dark room with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the wall as thunder faintly rolled in the distance. Small droplets of water beat out a gentle, constant rhythm against the Atlantean walls. Closing her eyes, she finally stopped trying to piece her day of partially failed memories together. She let it all go and just listened. Inhaling deeply, she stood up again and walked to her window to open it. A soft gust of cool, humid breeze met her face and she smiled faintly at the familiar smell. She leaned on the windowsill and gazed out across the open waters, occasional distant flickers of lightning catching her attention.
She had no idea how long she stood there, entranced by the falling rain, but could have easily stood there all night. Her door slid open almost noiselessly. "Emma," she heard a low, gruff voice say.
She turned around to meet her visitor as a familiar swelling in her chest nearly overcame her. "Ronon. Hey," she smiled, looking down self-consciously at her pajamas and crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly very aware that she wasn't wearing a bra. He entered fully into the room and slowly made his way towards her. She gestured to her bed, "I was just about to go to—" She awkwardly uncrossed her arms as he took her to his chest and brought both of his hands to the sides of her face and neck, cutting her off with a powerful kiss. His arms wrapped around her body and without another word, he pulled his lips away from hers and kissed her eyebrows and her forehead, as though he couldn't get enough of her. "Ronon?" she managed to utter in a small voice, surprised by his total lack of pretense.
"I never got to tell you how beautiful you looked the night of the…" He stopped short and combed his fingers through a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear, his eyes quickly scanning her face as if he were looking at her for the last time. His voice dropped even lower. "I thought we had lost you. I—I thought I had lost you," he stammered.
"I'm fine now," she smiled sweetly, laying a hand on his cheek and running her fingers along his hairline.
"I haven't been that scared in a long time," he admitted softly.
She stared up into his hazel eyes. The normal twinkle in them was gone and was instead replaced by worry and guilt.
"Look, I don't want to lose you like that…I…" He glanced away for a split second, then looked back at her. "I can't lose you like that, Emma," he confessed.
She continued to trace the outline of his forehead with her fingers. "I'm right here," she firmly assured him, "I'm right here, in your arms. You don't have to worry," she told him, kissing his jaw and resting her head between his shoulder and neck.
He exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," he growled.
"Why?" she asked incredulously, looking back into his face.
"I said I'd never hurt you." He paused and avoided her eyes. "I thought I had killed you," he managed to say, "I was stupid to have shot," he snarled, shaking his head.
"Ronon, that Wraith was already killing me," she stressed, "I would have died within the minute had you not. You didn't hurt me, you saved my life," she said earnestly, pressing her cheek to his.
He felt her eyelashes against his face. "I never want to hurt you," he said in barely a whisper, "but…" He trailed off. He was holding her so close to him, so tightly that she could barely move.
She looked up into his eyes again and he touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. "I believe you," she finally said. This time she kissed him, pressing her body against his and tightly wrapping her arms around him. She tenderly pulled her lips away from his and held onto him, feeling the most at peace she had in weeks. His heart beat steadily next to her ear. She reached down to his wrist and stroked the metal fastenings on his leather wrist guards then began to slowly unbuckle one of them, staring at his large and sturdy hands. "Stay," she whispered as she pulled it past his fingers. After setting the first gauntlet down, her hands moved to his other tattooed forearm.
At first he stood still, seemingly paralyzed by her request to stay with her, but after a short while, his lips wandered down to her neck. She nearly collapsed against his hard chest, her knees buckling once she felt his warm mouth against her soft skin. Ronon heard her let out a quiet breath of satisfaction and he smirked to himself. Emma brought her hands to his chest and unbuckled the leather strap that fastened his sword against his back. Ensuring that she had laid it down carefully, her hands then slid down his front, past his chest and his stomach, to his hips. A chill ran up the back of his neck as he watched as Emma undo the clasp on his weapons holster. Once that too was on the floor, she finally looked up into his eyes. Every exterior trace of the warrior had been taken away and now the man who stood in front of her was just her friend, whom she intimately trusted.
Together, they took a few steps to her bed and collapsed onto it. Ronon's body was weak with exhaustion from the long and grueling mission, but he needed this more than he needed to rest. He needed to be with her. He needed to hold her in his arms, to hear her breathe, to feel her around him just to make sure that it wasn't a dream - that she really was alive. He propped her up against her pillows and leaned over her body, his lips returning to her neck. She kissed along his jawline, gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt and drawing him closer.
From her neck he whispered, "Are you sure you're strong enough to do this?"
"I think so," she answered breathily, her mind even cloudier than it was earlier.
Ronon pulled away from her neck. Her answer apparently wasn't the type of unequivocal consent that he was hoping for. "Emma, if you're not up to this, then we don't have to. I don't w-"
"Ronon," she interrupted, "I want this," she firmly stated, staring straight into his eyes. She took a few shallow breaths while he contemplated what to do next, staring back at her. "I want you," she finally said.
Sufficiently persuaded, he pulled her Oxford University sweatshirt off of her and threw it aside. He stopped. The feeding wounds on her chest had not fully healed. She looked down at them, then back to him. "They—they'll probably scar," she said quietly, her breast heaving. He moved so that the moonlight hit him in just the right way and pulled his own shirt over his head. They locked eyes just as Emma noticed the deep scars on his chest from the very same wound. She laid a finger gently on top of one of them and traced the path of the handprint. Without any further hesitation, Ronon guided Emma to straddle his hips, his hands grabbing tightly onto her thighs. Slowly, he brought his lips to each of the puncture wounds, kissing around them against her chest. He pushed the straps of her tank top off her shoulders, finally slipping it off of her and discarding it. He moved his hands to her now bare back, steadying her, pressing hard on the small of her back against him. He gathered all of her long red hair to one side and kissed the side of her neck once more. She felt a small moan escape her lips as her head fell backward. The rain outside pounded louder as it fell on the pier. A roll of thunder echoed across the ocean.
He lowered her back onto the bed, flat on her back, and she took a deep breath in, the smell of salt water filling her lungs. He stood up and took his worn leather pants off, letting them fall to the floor with everything else. He positioned himself on top of her and their lips met. Emma closed her eyes and smiled as pervasive warmth coursed down her whole body, one hand on his bicep, the other clutching onto the leather cord around his neck. For him, every kiss from her was a long drink of water that he needed to stay awake – to stay alive.
Her hips bucked softly against his and he felt for her cotton shorts, pulling them down her legs and throwing them to the foot of the bed. They were completely still for a moment, looking into each other's faces as the sounds of their heavy breathing and the storm intermingled. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he touched his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again, this time breathing in his reassuring scent. He ran his hand down her body along her ribs, her waist, and then her hips and parted her legs. She was suddenly aware that all of his weight was hovering just over her. With a quiet gasp, she felt him slide into her and she clutched to his back for support.
She was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving up and down as he quietly growled one last time before pulling out of her and falling onto his side, utterly exhausted. Neither one of them said anything for several minutes as they lay in a tight embrace, his arm around her waist, her arms around his shoulders, and his face nuzzling her neck. Her mind reeled as she stared at the wall behind him. Ronon finally shifted onto his back; Emma wrapped one of her arms around him, tucked one of her legs between his, and nestled up close to him, laying her head against his sweaty chest. She loved the way he smelled, even if he was drenched with sweat. There was something about it that she couldn't place, that she felt like she had never smelled before except on the coat that he had let her borrow months ago. He wrapped one arm around her, and leisurely ran his fingers through her long red hair with the other. Ronon gently kissed the top of her head before they finally fell asleep together. They woke up the next morning in exactly the same position, wrapped up in one another, his hand still halfway through her long tresses, her head still resting against his chest.
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