Trapped

by WesleysGirl



1.

It all takes too much time: the debriefing, the examination by the doc. Ronon's twitchy to the point of making the people around him twitchy, and that makes him feel bad, and he doesn't like to feel bad, which is why he's not thinking about all of what happened.

He ends up pacing up and down the hallway outside the infirmary until Elizabeth comes out. She's pale but smiling, and that takes the twitchiness down a notch.

"He's fine," she says. Her lips curve into a smile that's thin, but so genuine that it lets Ronon relax a little bit more. There's something about Elizabeth that reminds him of home, of a time and place so far away that it's more like a dream than something that really belonged to him. "Better than fine."

"McKay said he looked younger than before," Ronon says, because repeating something someone else said means he doesn't have to use his own words.

"He does. Carson says there isn't a thing wrong with him." Elizabeth reaches out and touches Ronon's arm. She's one of the few people who'll touch him like that, almost casual but knowing that it isn't, and he appreciates it in ways he'd never be able to explain. "Go get some rest."

"I will."

But he doesn't. He leans against the wall and waits for Sheppard until the other man comes out of the infirmary. Sheppard's eyes are bright, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet like he's ready for an hour-long run. It makes Ronon want to hit him.

Still, "You look good," he says.

"I feel good," Sheppard says. "I feel great. Clean bill of health."

"Good." Ronon follows him to his quarters, and stops just outside the door even when Sheppard goes in. The other man turns and looks at him, head tilted to one side and one eyebrow lifted.

"You coming in?" Sheppard asks.

Ronon hesitates; it's not like him, sure, he knows that, but then again it's not every day that Sheppard gets captured and tortured and there's nothing he can do about it. "Yeah, I guess," he says finally, and goes through the doorway. The door closes behind him, shutting everything out, and that's when Ronon can breathe again. The air rasps in his throat and lungs, and his chest is tight, and his hands are clenched into fists that are somehow closed around the fabric of Sheppard's shirt, holding on.

"Easy," Sheppard says. They're sitting on the floor. Ronon doesn't remember how they got there, but Sheppard is warm and alive and that's what matters, his arms solid and reassuring when Ronon runs his hands over them more roughly than he should. "Hey, easy. It's okay. I'm fine."

"Yeah, I know."

It's only one of the things that Ronon knows, though, and another is that he's trapped now. He cares past the point where he can turn and walk away without another thought.

That scares him as much as running from the wraith ever did.

2.

"I can't believe you just let him go," Ronon says later, when they're both naked on the bed and he's got Sheppard, warm and pliant, leaning against him. He's sandwiched between Sheppard and the wall. There's a blanket half tangled around their legs, but more because Ronon hasn't gotten over the novelty of having a bed to sleep in, with real blankets, than because they need it.

"Sure you can." Sheppard tilts his head back and looks up at Ronon. "You might not like it, but you can believe it just fine."

Ronon grumbles. Why does Sheppard have to be so right all the time? "I thought you were smarter than that."

"Then I guess I'm lucky it's my carefree attitude that you're so attracted to." Sheppard puts his hand over Ronon's where it's resting on his stomach, laces their fingers together. "We had a deal."

"He almost killed you," Ronon says. He doesn't move, because he likes where he is too much, but he trembles with the need to run, to hit things, at the memory.

"Yeah. And then he gave me my life back. He didn't have to do that." Sheppard's voice is soft, and his other hand rubs Ronon's arm comfortingly. Being able to touch someone like this, it's more than Ronon ever thought he'd have, and the thought of almost having lost it...

Ronon sighs and bends his head, pressing his mouth to Sheppard's bare shoulder.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't let him go a second time. You know, if our paths crossed again," Sheppard says.

"Hmph," Ronon grunts. He's not sure that's true.

Besides, it doesn't matter; if they ever come across that wraith again, he'll kill it before Sheppard has the chance to order him not to.

3.

"You're making too much noise," Ronon growls, tightening his hands on Sheppard's hips and pushing into him again.

Sheppard groans. His head's hanging down, the back of his neck pale and vulnerable to Ronon's eyes.

He looks away. That's not what he wants from him and Sheppard together; he doesn't want to see the things about Sheppard that are weak, breakable. He can't think about that. What he needs -- what he loves -- are Sheppard's cocky grin, the way he runs into a fight without hesitating, the firm, unyielding grip of his hand on Ronon's arm when he expects something from him.

It doesn't matter what it is. Ronon will always give it to him.

"Fuck," Sheppard gasps, and Ronon grins. That, too.

"Come here." He wraps an arm around Sheppard's chest and pulls him up and back, mouthing at the side of his neck. Ronon fucks like he does everything else -- unrelentingly and without much attention to what the people around him are doing. Sheppard's the first, the only, exception, and Ronon shudders when he remembers what it had felt like to watch him being taken away piece by piece, the life sucked from him.

Sheppard gasps again. "Easy," he says, a warning, and Ronon realizes he's holding him too tightly.

"Sorry," he mutters into the soft hair at the back of Sheppard's neck.

"Don't be," Sheppard says. "Don't be sorry." He means more than just the sex; Ronon can hear it in his voice, can feel it when he slides his hand down to Sheppard's cock and tugs as his balls. "Yeah, like... like that. Jesus, Ronon..."

It's a curse, Ronon knows that much by the way the earth people use it, but when Sheppard says it like that it sounds more like a caress. It gets to Ronon's dick every time. He comes with his hips rolling like the sea, biting down on Sheppard's neck to stifle the long groan that tears at his throat. The backs of Sheppard's thighs feel soft against the fronts of his, and Ronon shuts his eyes, unable to stop himself, in that one moment, from wishing for a peaceful life he'll never have.


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