Word count/length: ~1000w
Rating: Hard R.
Characters/pairing: John/Ronon, Rodney/alcohol.
Summary: Ronon's beginning to understand why he's never seen John dance before.
Ronon had never seen John dance until the midsummer celebration on Helike, and now, watching him awkwardly jump and skip around while he tried the caramel cake some girl had thrust into his hands, he could see why John usually always declined with a smile when someone tried to lure him out to the dance floor.
It wasn't even a complicated dance. All that was required of the participants was that they jumped around the blazing bonfire, hands in the air. Even McKay seemed to have gotten the hang of it, but then McKay was drunk on the sweet and surprisingly potent mead the villagers had shared with them, and John was not. They'd brought out big barrels of the stuff at the start of the evening, and both Ronon and Rodney had indulged in more than their share of the drink. When Teyla and John had looked at them with disapproving eyes, McKay had sniffed that they were just being polite.
Teyla had wrinkled her nose at the taste of it, which baffled Ronon, because it wasn't like the Athosian ruus-wine was any better, and John usually avoided alcohol on missions. Ronon thought he was being stupid. They trusted the Helikans, who never asked for more from them than the medicines they could not make themselves, and the Wraith was no longer a threat. The worst that could happen was that some bandits would show up, and Ronon could dispose of low class thugs like that in his sleep.
“Go ahead,” John had told them when he saw the longing looks they were sending the barrels. “At least some of us are keeping a clear head.”
Now, watching him jump around, clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed, Ronon was reminded that when it came to fire-dancing, a clear head was the last thing you needed. He sparred and ran with John; he knew that he had a decent sense of rhythm and balance. Out of his element like this, he was just too self conscious to make use of it.
Rodney, on the other hand, was beyond embarrassment. Sweaty and disheveled and grinning like a drunken fool, he was actually inventing some of his own moves, pointing his forefinger up into the air and striking a pose. Teyla, who was dancing right next to him, was laughing so hard that all her usual grace had abandoned her. Ronon reflected that he should try out some of McKay's moves the next time he sparred with her. They seemed to do more damage than his own.
Once again looking over in John's direction, Ronon decided to take pity on him. Maybe it was the alcohol and the food making him soft, but he almost felt bad for him.
Abandoning his cake, he weaved his way through the crowd, twirling a laughing girl there, side-stepping someone windmilling their arms there, pushing away a belligerent drunk there, until he was at John's side.
“Let's go,” he said, and twitched his head in the direction of the forest.
“Thank God,” John said, abruptly lowering his flailing arms, and then, “you don't think they'll mind?”
Ronon grinned at him. “This isn't a religious rite, Sheppard. They just want us to have fun.”
“Fun, huh?” John waggled his eyebrows at him. Ronon hoped he didn't actually think he looked seductive like that.
They set off into the forest together. Even though it was close to midnight, it was still light out, and under the canopy of the trees, the delicate midnight sunlight created a soft glow. The only thing disrupting the idyll was the insects, which were pretty aggressive.
John provided the perfect distraction from them by suddenly pushing Ronon up against a tree.
“I believe I was promised 'fun',” he said.
“Yeah?” Ronon said. With one swift move, he reversed their positions, leaving John pushed up against the rough bark of the tree, Ronon's hands holding his securely above his head. He bent down, taking John's mouth in a kiss. John responded eagerly, the way he always did, kissing back with a fervor that had surprised Ronon the first time. Sheppard always seemed so laid-back and distant, like nothing could make him truly let loose, but get the man in bed with you (or up against a wall, or against a desk, or in the shower...) and he turned out to be as passionate as they came. Ronon still had bruises from the last time they did this.
He released John's hands and brought down his own to John's belt instead. Once released, John's settled on Ronon's ass like they belonged there. John squeezed, and Ronon moaned into the kiss and redoubled his efforts with John's belt.
He just seemed to have forgotten how it worked.
“Told you you were drinking too much.” John chuckled against his mouth, and with one last squeeze he released his grip on Ronon's ass. “I'll do it.”
He made short work of both their pants, and soon they had their hands on each other's dicks, bringing each other to completion right there in the forest, with the faint sounds from the village and the insistent buzzing from the insects being the only sounds apart from the lewd noises of flesh against flesh reaching their ears.
Afterward, Ronon all but collapsed against John.
“You're not going to fall asleep right here, are you?” John said, sounding a bit concerned, “because I'd rather not spend the rest of the night pinned to this tree.”
Ronon righted himself. Falling asleep down on the soft moss on the forest floor sounded pretty appealing to him, but he knew how annoying those insects would be without anything distracting him from their buzzing and blood sucking. He knew how annoying John would be after a night sleeping on the ground too.
“Let's go back,” John said. “You can show me where to find cake, and then we'll catch some z's in the jumper.” He looked over at Ronon, who was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. John smiled.
“And if you're really nice, I'll hold your hair for you when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.”