It was during the Monday morning viewing of the surveillance footage that she discovered them. Doctor Elizabeth Weir would forever be grateful to Camera four hundred and twelve dash six, for it was the one that captured her military commander and his Satedan Specialist partaking in some smoking hot wall sex.
She should look away, move on to the next camera, the next stretch of empty-no-action hallway. Instead, all sounds from the gate room drifted away in a fog of voyeuristic arousal, and Elizabeth’s eyes stayed riveted to her laptop screen.
Elizabeth supposed if she had ever thought to imagine these two men together, it would’ve been Ronon ploughing his cock up John’s ass. And what an ass it was, peachy and pert, cheeks squeezing with each thrust forward, his hips slapping Ronon’s equally scrumptious behind as he neared his peak.
Had they been together long, or was Elizabeth lucky enough to witness their first time? She thought back and realised they’d been a pair since John had returned with Ronon in tow – even if they hadn’t been aware of it themselves. John had been so persistent in seeking Ronon’s addition to his team. Elizabeth could understand the attraction, hell, she and half the damn city had drooled over the possibility of being taken by Ronon and those hands of his. Because everyone knew what big hands meant.
There was no sound – unfortunately – something Elizabeth wondered if she should perhaps look into. She’d heard John moan in pain, bite into his lower lip to strangle the sound, all in the name of keeping up his image as a military tough guy; but now, putting together that knowledge with what her eyes were showing her, had Elizabeth wondering how the colonel would sound while he fucked.
Elizabeth wriggled in her chair, thighs tense as she bore down, squeezed around the throbbing emptiness that filled her. ‘Dear Lord!’
The sudden bang of something being dropped reminded her of where she was, and Elizabeth, with shaking hands, copied the file to her secure server then deleted the original. The whole situation was one that would definitely require further research.
All in the name of protecting her people from formal charges – of course.
Ronon tapped his ear to answer the two bleep summons on the control channel "Ronon."
"Ronon, it's Doctor Weir, could you come to my office after lunch please?"
"Thank you." Elizabeth severed their connection, and tried to concentrate on the IOA report that was due on the afternoon dial out, instead of how it would feel to have Ronon taking up space in her small office.
The room was dark, John having thought down the lights as Ronon pulled the blanket up around them both. Breath calming as sleep lingered near. But Ronon’s own thoughts were not so easily tamed.
“What?” John murmured sleepily, sensing Ronon’s unease even from the brink of unconsciousness.
“Weir knows.” John froze; thoroughly awake and rigid down the length of Ronon’s side. “She wants me to fuck her.”
“Wait, what?!” John’s heart was already racing from the one-two punch of losing his life here, and losing Ronon now that he finally had him. “She said that?”
He rolled inward, pressed into Ronon, the big man’s heat enveloping the sudden chill John felt deep in his bones.
John shuddered a sigh, licked into the sensitive hollow of collarbone beneath his mouth.
“Ronon, half the city wants you to fuck them.”
John could tell Ronon was thinking over the words, missing the half-assed attempt to bring back the ease of moments before.
“The other half?”
He’d known this would happen. That once he’d laid his hands on the man who now shared his bed – Ronon, god of everything John had ever dreamed of – he’d never be able to hide his every action, his every emotion, his every hungry glance; because there’d never been anyone like Ronon before. How could there be? Even on Sateda, John guessed Ronon had been unique.
“Want to watch.”
The truth uttered on a huff of false humour, was sucked into a vortex of edgy silence that carried far more weight in the room than it had any right to.
“You want to fuck her?”
Ronon sighed and John yielded, body melting into Ronon’s welcome heat as he rolled John; drew him up against solid muscle and slid his arms across John’s abs. His fingertips scribing indecipherable symbols over ticklish hips.
“She has nice…” Ronon squeezed John’s pecs suggestively, rolled their nubs between thumbs and fingers, and laughed deep and rich in the ear beneath his mouth as John squirmed back against him.
“I noticed.” John wriggled some more, the rod of Ronon’s dick a heavy tease against his tender hole.
“Listen, Ronon,” He gasped as his lover rolled his hips, stirred the need John had thought quieted for the night. “You deserve someone who can claim you.”
“Did you not claim me in the jumper yesterday, the tower balcony this morning, an-”
“Enough!” John laughed, rubbed his palms roughly over his face in an effort to dissipate his blush, before saying in a hushed whisper, “You wanted to, right?”
“Do you think you could have taken me, had I not wished it?”
It wasn’t an answer as such, but it brought forth an interesting thought for later. Maybe next time they sparred…
“I’d never.” John murmured, met Ronon’s gaze and held it tight. “You know that, right?”
Ronon rolled more fully onto John, pressed his lover deep into the scratch of worn cotton. “I know.”
John couldn’t help the groan that escaped when Ronon slid a huge hand under his thigh, caught behind his knee and lifted. He’d be useless at the briefing if they didn’t get some sleep soon, but John really really couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“And you, Colonel Sheppard?” Ronon rumbled, the feel of it heating John’s blood; hot breath playing in the soft hair at his nape. “On what half do you sit?”
“Watching,” John pushed back, felt Ronon’s cock right ohfuckyesplease there and found it difficult to remember what the hell they were talking about, “uh…could…be…interesting!”
Ronon shoved deep. John’s slick and tender flesh a weak defence against such urgent welcome fullness.
“Second thought, fucking’s…” John gasped, his entire body flaming at Ronon’s growl of amusement; but that was nothing to the manly scream John buried in his pillow as Ronon fucked deep and oh-so-goddamn-perfect! “…fucking’s definitely the way to go!”
The small space was not enough to absorb the echoes of their pleasure and Elizabeth’s steps slowed to a halt when she saw them. An angular alcove, their private sanctuary.
Ronon was sucking John to the root, his lover’s stance keeping Ronon’s thighs spread and the cock Elizabeth longed to feel inside her tenting obscenely in his loose exercise pants.
She must have moaned because both turned, startled. John recovered first and resumed his rhythm, fucking the length of his beautiful cock past Ronon’s full slick lips. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
His voice was rough, wrecked by pleasure, and everything Elizabeth had imagined it would be. She stepped closer, couldn’t help the lure these two men offered.
“Yeah, c’mon.” John encouraged, but Elizabeth couldn’t tell if he meant Ronon or her.
She took another step, and another; was within reach of John’s arm, smooth toned bicep peeking beneath black cotton, flexing as his hand tightened on Ronon’s throat. Elizabeth gulped, couldn’t help it, wondered how John tasted. How would he feel filling her mouth as Ronon filled her?
It was Ronon who spoke into the heated silence, voice broken on the syllables of her name. She throbbed, fresh moisture wetting her panties as she looked into knowing brown eyes. He held John’s wrist; tight grip a sharp contrast to the gentle reassuring stroke of thumb over pale skin.
Elizabeth looked to her military commander, caught his nod and the spark of heat in lust-drugged eyes, and stepped into the space they had made for her.
John closed Elizabeth between him and Ronon. Ronon spreading his thighs wider in invitation, and fuck John would’ve taken it up without hesitation. But this was for Elizabeth, something they could both give her. He reached for the hem of her shirt, yanked it up and off, releasing chestnut curls to brush over creamy shoulders. Her skin was perfect; unblemished and unbelievably soft beneath his touch, as he trailed the backs of his hands down over her collarbones.
Elizabeth gasped, swayed on her feet and John knew Ronon was touching her; long fingers exploring her just as they did him. His cock jerked wet and angry at being denied immediate pleasure. But the thought alone had its own ability to keep John on edge. And yeah, Elizabeth’s tits were pretty damn fine; cradled in red lace and daring him to touch.
Elizabeth bore down on the hands cupping her ass and tried to ignore the blush painting her cheeks as she imagined what Ronon could see. How ready she was for him. His light touches were infuriating, when she wanted to be fucked hard, taken and filled. “Ronon, please.”
John’s hands were cupping her breasts, easing them free to jut rudely from the frame of her bra. It bit harshly into her skin but she ignored it, liked the way her nipples pushed eagerly into John’s palms as he squeezed and rolled, pulled and tweaked.
“More. Please.” She whimpered, arched into both men’s touch. Clenched tight around the three fingers pushing past her slick lips, stretching her hole and driving deep to stroke yesohfuckrightthere! But it wasn’t enough. She needed more, and wasn’t shy about asking. “Ronon, please!”
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder, pressed harder into John’s hands and felt him step closer, his grip tightening. “Fuck me, fuck me now!”
Ronon eyed her, took in her wide brown eyes, their lashes long and delicate on blushed cheeks, and the tumble of glossy curls, before looking to John.
The wait seemed an eternity and Elizabeth was both ridiculously turned on and terrified John would cast her out. Leave her wanting. She knew this was a one-time thing; knew they did this for her. Both men knew the loneliness that came with command. The necessity of putting others first.
Elizabeth heard Ronon’s gasp on the echo of a rubbery snap before his huge hands gripped her hips and lowered her onto his cock. John stepped closer still. His knees bracketing hers inside Ronon’s as Elizabeth wriggled between them.
John knew how Elizabeth felt; being impaled on Ronon’s massive cock. Having it fill you till there was no room for more. He bit his lip and rolled his hips forward, his own cock painting slick on Elizabeth’s beautiful tits. And yeah, he could enjoy that.
Elizabeth was blissing out. The feel of Ronon inside her was even better than she’d imagined. His girth opened her further than she’d ever been stretched before.
Elizabeth jumped in his lap, short powerful thrusts driving deep as Ronon held her legs closed. Kept pressure on her clit and forced her to bare down, skin slapping hot and hard. John’s abs were an inch from her face and Elizabeth couldn’t resist a taste. He groaned as she kissed, lapped at salty maleness, felt the head of his eager cock nudge in the hollow of her throat.
“Elizabeth…let me…fuck your tits?”
And god! That voice! She’d never be able to concentrate in a meeting with John ever again! “Y-yes, John, yes.”
Ronon’s thrusts slowed, his cock solid and undeniable within her own flesh as he waited for John. Elizabeth knew Ronon would always wait for John. Just as John, she now understood, had been waiting all his life for Ronon. The thought made this moment somehow even hotter.
Elizabeth was yanked from her thoughts when John rolled her breasts together, squeezed himself between her globes and flicked his thumbs over her nipples as he rocked. Elizabeth knew they were looking at each other, couldn’t help the spark of loneliness as she allowed herself this pleasure. The feeling of being so full, of having attention focused on her and what she needed.
She hadn’t touched them yet; accepting what they offered and no more. But as she climbed, her body flexing and answering the push of Ronon and of John, Elizabeth cupped John’s ass. A ripe round peach she could have happily sunk her teeth into. Her nails dug in as she dragged him impossibly close. John growled above her, the sound thrilling her bones when Ronon echoed, thrust deep and stayed; slid two fingers between her thighs. Their weight on her clit was a shock that had Elizabeth bucking in his lap. Her orgasm ripped her apart; scorching like fire and ice, pain and pleasure, twisting, writhing and turning in on itself and wiping her out. She moaned a string of incomprehensible nonsense against John’s stomach, felt his and Ronon’s hands tangle and touch in her hair. Lay back like a ragdoll on Ronon’s chest, neck arched for John to paint in stripes of creamy white while the man inside her rolled his hips one final time. The sound of his lover’s name hot against her ear.
John and Ronon held her between them. Strong arms keeping the three of them close, wrapped safe in a bubble that would break all too soon. The reality of leadership and enforced secrets enfolding them like the clothing they buttoned and straightened.
John pulled her close; touched his forehead to hers then pressed a kiss to her curls. Ronon moved in as John stepped back, a strange dance with steps known only to them; and placed his own kiss directly over John’s.
Elizabeth left them where she had found them. Her legs weak with more than a well-sated need. She didn’t look back, the sound of soft kisses whispering things she had no right to hear.