Fic: Get Me Through December (Dex/Sheppard, NC-17)
Title: Get Me Through December
Author: rubygirl29
Recipient: Scrollgirl
Pairing: John/Ronon
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Atlantis. They are the properties of the series creators.
Author's Notes: For Scrollgirl who wanted a John/Ronon first time story, John being manhandled, John on the bottom.
Summary: New Year's Eve on Atlantis brings reflection and surprises for a cold and lonely John Sheppard. The title comes from the lovely song "Get Me Through December" Music and lyrics by Fred Lavery and Gordon Sampson. Thank you, somehowunbroken for introducing me to this amazing song.
I've been to the mountain left my tracks in the snow
Where souls have been lost and the walking wounded go
I've taken the pain no man should endure
Faith can move mountains of that I am sure
But faith can move mountains of that I am sure
Just get me through December
A promise I'll remember
Get me through December
So I can start again
Get Me Through December
Atlantis floated serenely on a tranquil ocean. A veil of stars wrapped around the sky like a shawl of diamonds on the shoulders of a beautiful woman. The planet didn't really have a winter; the season were marked by small shifts in temperature and precipitation, like San Diego. John Sheppard, used to more dramatic shifts in the seasons, occasionally felt disoriented by holidays. He had missed the spring warmth of Memorial Day, the heat of the Fourth of July, the ripeness and smoky chill of Thanksgiving. Now, on New Year's Eve, it was chilly but temperate and John wanted to take a jumper out to find a planet where the ground was icy and he could see his breath on the wind. Maybe a sere, cold landscape would be more suited to the heaviness in his heart.
He had never expected to miss Earth quite this much, miss even the few terse conversations he had with his brother, Dave, and his father over the holidays. Miss the aroma of turkey roasting and cookies baking because their housekeeper felt sorry for them, still thinking of the Sheppard boys as 'the poor motherless lambs.' Lambs? They were more like wolves in a pack, all fighting to be the Alpha. They spent the holidays in an uneasy rapprochement and by New Year's were only too happy to separate for another year.
It was Earth, it was home, and he was unimaginably distant. December was a cold and lonely place. Perhaps it was that he was in a cold and lonely place. He looked at his watch. It was set to Atlantis Standard Time, which had been agreed on by the IOA, the military, and Dr. Weir to be Earth GMT. Time, John had learned in the military, was arbitrary; depending on geographic variables. If he thought about the reality of being millions of light years from Earth, those variables made his head spin. But here, at this moment, it was 23:30 on New Year's Eve, and people inside were celebrating.
"Sheppard, are you coming in? You'll miss the champagne the Daedalus brought from Earth." John turned slightly, looked at McKay. "In a bit."
"It's not like you're on duty." Rodney took a step outside. "Aren't you cold?"
"Cold?" John realized for the first time that the breeze coming over the water had cooled considerably since he had first stood on the balcony. It almost felt like winter. "I'm fine," he lied. "I'll be in by midnight."
"Don't blame me if you end up toasting with Athosian ale."
John heard the door slide shut. He zipped up his jacket. It didn't give much protection from the suddenly chilly air, but it helped.
"John, are you all right?" Elizabeth came out to the balcony. She rubbed her arms. "It's gotten cold," she said, surprised.
"Yeah. The wind shifted a few minutes ago."
"You should come in."
"Yes, mom." John mustered up a grin. "I'm fine and I'll be home soon." Despite his attempt at humor, Elizabeth's brow was still furrowed. "You're sure you're all right? It's been a rough year."
"Yeah." He stayed silent and she touched his arm and went back inside. A rough year ... starting with the siege by the Wraith, losing Ford, and there was that whole bug thing which still gave him nightmares, even though he didn't remember the worst of it.
What it came down to was that he was tired, cold and wondering if it had all been worth the pain. That last betrayal as Ford stepped into the Wraith beam had been shocking. John had replayed that in his mind, relived it in his dreams and still couldn't save Ford any more than he had been able to save Colonel Sumner. He felt those failures keenly. He was a soldier. He knew military losses were unavoidable. Ford had been a good kid, but he hadn't been a friend. Maybe that made the burden of guilt heavier, because for a friend Sheppard would have offered his life.
Yet losing Ford had led him to Ronon Dex. Ronon, a soldier from an alien culture devastated by the Wraith, was more like Sheppard than any other man he had known. He fought as hard, killed and survived. From the moment their eyes had met, there had been the recognition that they were soldiers who could fight as a single deadly weapon. Ronon's skill had made him immediately valuable, but his friendship was beyond price. John hadn't expected anything more than friendship, hadn't expected it to become an offer of something more enticing, and like Ronon, dangerous ...
Heat flared between them, and Ronon took Sheppard's shoulders in his hands. Sheppard was watching him, a bit warily, but more like he was wondering what would happen next, not real alarm. Ronon bent his head and kissed him. Soft, wet lips, a slight taste of salt, a brief moment of more intimate contact as their tongues touched. Ronon stroked his hand down Sheppard's flank -- and stopped. John knew Ronon could use his strength to force Sheppard against the wall and he wouldn't fight. He could make that first move beyond what they had now. Instead, he had stepped back. He'd left enough bruises for the night.
In silence, they finished showering. Sheppard grabbed two towels and tossed one to Ronon. "I wouldn't have minded," he said over his shoulder, and walked away. *
He still wouldn't have minded, but Ronon hadn't made that next move, as if waiting for John to be ready to take the risk, to take the fall.
Tonight, he was just lonely enough, just cold enough to risk anything to be warm, not to be alone. Just his luck that he was alone and Ronon was at the Athosian settlement with Teyla and Lorne delivering a much-needed generator.
He looked at his watch. 23:45. The year was counting down.
"Sheppard." The warm smoke and honey of Ronon's voice whispered his name as Dex opened his leather coat to envelop John in warmth. "You're freezing."
"You're supposed to be on Athos. How did you get here?"
"Lorne set up the generator and Teyla said she would like to spend a few days with her people -- some sort of council -- so we flew home."
A buzz of arousal began coursing through John as he because aware of the beat of Ronon's heart, of his warmth, of his hard body sheltering his from the cold. "We should go in," he said, his voice thick and slow in his throat.
"Lorne says this is some sort of special holiday for your people."
"Yeah. Time to say good-bye to the old year and ring in the new. Really, it's just an excuse to eat and drink and watch football the next day."
"He also said that it was a time to be with somebody. Not alone out in the cold."
"I'm not alone," John objected. "We shouldn't be seen out here like this."
"Everybody's watching the clock, not us. What's champagne?" he asked in an apparent non-sequitur.
"Bubbly wine."
Ronon lifted a skeptical brow. "You drink it?"
"It's for special occasions. Like New Years, weddings ... You should try it. Let's go inside before I freeze."
Ronon leaned in, whispered. "I wouldn't let that happen." John shivered, but not from the cold.
Inside the gateroom, the mess personnel were circulating with trays of champagne. The Daedalus had carried it from Earth, courtesy of General O'Neill, who seemed to think that Elizabeth needed bribing with champagne to stay on as head of the expedition.
John snatched up two glasses and handed one to Ronon. Elizabeth stood above them in the control room, while Rodney counted down the remaining seconds to midnight."Three ... two ... one..."
The room erupted with cries of, "Happy New Year!" and everybody started singing. Ronon looked perplexed. "What are they singing?" he asked.
"Auld Lang Syne. It means something like for old time's sake, and we drink to old times and look to new and better ones."
Ronon drained his glass. "I can do that," he said, his eyes glittering. "Can we leave now?"
"Yeah. Let's get out of here."
They walked quickly to John's quarters. He opened the door and Ronon's shoulder was at his back, pushing him inside. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they were kissing. Fierce and deep, not gentle. Just pure heat and arousal like fire in his veins. He managed to close and lock the door, only half-aware that he had done it.
Ronon pressed John against the wall. His hands were hard on John's shoulders, strong and demanding. Ronon's tongue breached his mouth and John heard himself moan. He pushed back, just a small resistance that made Ronon growl with impatience. He muscled John over to the bed. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, they buckled and he fell back. He could have fought, but he didn't want to. He could have told Ronon to stop, and he knew he would have. He did neither. Ronon was working the laces on his boots loose and tugging them off. Socks, fatigues, briefs followed. The cool air was a shock on his skin. He gasped as Ronon's warm hands slid under his T-shirt and found his nipples.
Ronon fingered them to erect nubs, then laved them with his tongue. Hot sparks like electricity shot through John's nerves right to his cock. John pushed against Ronon. He drew back, just a hint of doubt in his eyes. "You've got too many clothes on," John said, and Ronon smiled. His heavy leather coat hit the floor, his boots, pants and long, loose top. He stood naked over John.
He was magnificent. John studied every inch of his amber skin, his muscles, his long, fine bones. He was either going to die or live as he had never lived before. He couldn't wait. He didn't have to wait, he had only to reach out. He sat up, stripped off the rest of his clothes and offered himself to Ronon; soldier, friend and lover. Everything.
Ronon set one knee on the mattress and leaned down to kiss John. He tasted like champagne and salt. Sweet and hot. He laced his fingers through John's and stretched his arms out. He kissed the thin skin of John's inner arms, tongued the bend of his elbows and sucked softly on his earlobes. His dreads brushed John's skin as his lips moved down John's throat.
Coolness followed the heat. Ronon lay his body on John's. John moved to bring their cocks into alignment; and it was Ronon's turn to gasp and shudder as their moist come slicked their skin. His thumbs pressed into the crease of John's groin.
"Ronon, wait," he managed to rasp. He stretched out to reach into the drawer of the small chest by his bed. He fumbled for the lube and condoms he kept there. He wondered if he would have to explain it. Judging from the fierce grin on Ronon's face, explanations weren't needed.
Ronon knew exactly what to do. John felt the cool slide of oil as Ronon, surprisingly gentle, worked the lube into John's skin, his finger finally seeking entrance to his body. John tensed at the intrusion, but he wanted Ronon, he wanted all of him and he knew the discomfort would pass.
"You sure?" Ronon asked.
God, he asked ... and John was overwhelmed. "Yes." He canted his hips, allowing himself the luxury of open, naked trust in this man.
Ronon was gentle first, waiting for John to adjust to his size and length. Then when the pain eased to an edge of pleasure, he began a sensuous rock and thrust that made John whine with exquisite need and urgency. His big, warm hand wrapped around John's cock, jerking him off with the same rhythm as his movements.
John felt stretched, raw, overwhelmed with sexual tension. If Ronon would just move. John rocked his hips at the same moment Ronon thrust deeply, finding the sweet spot that sent John into a spiraling ejaculation. He watched Ronon's beautiful eyes go dark with arousal. His head fell back, exposing his throat, the muscles working against a cry of ecstasy as he climaxed.
They fell together; and John was no longer alone, no longer cold. Ronon covered him with warmth and the glorious messiness of sex. He withdrew from John, pitched the condom with unerring aim into the wastebasket, and held him.
John shifted a bit and reached for the blanket, dragging it over them both. He looked at the clock. An hour after midnight. No matter if this was sex, comfort, or if he was on the verge of something more, something deeper than he had ever shared with another human being. For now, it was enough to be with Ronon on this night that gave birth to a new year.
"You're over-thinking," Ronon's voice vibrated against his chest. "Go to sleep."
"Not," he said into the warm hollow of Ronon's throat. He felt the throb of Ronon's heart, steady and true. He was right. Nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and slept.
The End
*From my story Small Bruises
Author: rubygirl29
Recipient: Scrollgirl
Pairing: John/Ronon
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Atlantis. They are the properties of the series creators.
Author's Notes: For Scrollgirl who wanted a John/Ronon first time story, John being manhandled, John on the bottom.
Summary: New Year's Eve on Atlantis brings reflection and surprises for a cold and lonely John Sheppard. The title comes from the lovely song "Get Me Through December" Music and lyrics by Fred Lavery and Gordon Sampson. Thank you, somehowunbroken for introducing me to this amazing song.
I've been to the mountain left my tracks in the snow
Where souls have been lost and the walking wounded go
I've taken the pain no man should endure
Faith can move mountains of that I am sure
But faith can move mountains of that I am sure
Just get me through December
A promise I'll remember
Get me through December
So I can start again
Get Me Through December
Atlantis floated serenely on a tranquil ocean. A veil of stars wrapped around the sky like a shawl of diamonds on the shoulders of a beautiful woman. The planet didn't really have a winter; the season were marked by small shifts in temperature and precipitation, like San Diego. John Sheppard, used to more dramatic shifts in the seasons, occasionally felt disoriented by holidays. He had missed the spring warmth of Memorial Day, the heat of the Fourth of July, the ripeness and smoky chill of Thanksgiving. Now, on New Year's Eve, it was chilly but temperate and John wanted to take a jumper out to find a planet where the ground was icy and he could see his breath on the wind. Maybe a sere, cold landscape would be more suited to the heaviness in his heart.
He had never expected to miss Earth quite this much, miss even the few terse conversations he had with his brother, Dave, and his father over the holidays. Miss the aroma of turkey roasting and cookies baking because their housekeeper felt sorry for them, still thinking of the Sheppard boys as 'the poor motherless lambs.' Lambs? They were more like wolves in a pack, all fighting to be the Alpha. They spent the holidays in an uneasy rapprochement and by New Year's were only too happy to separate for another year.
It was Earth, it was home, and he was unimaginably distant. December was a cold and lonely place. Perhaps it was that he was in a cold and lonely place. He looked at his watch. It was set to Atlantis Standard Time, which had been agreed on by the IOA, the military, and Dr. Weir to be Earth GMT. Time, John had learned in the military, was arbitrary; depending on geographic variables. If he thought about the reality of being millions of light years from Earth, those variables made his head spin. But here, at this moment, it was 23:30 on New Year's Eve, and people inside were celebrating.
"Sheppard, are you coming in? You'll miss the champagne the Daedalus brought from Earth." John turned slightly, looked at McKay. "In a bit."
"It's not like you're on duty." Rodney took a step outside. "Aren't you cold?"
"Cold?" John realized for the first time that the breeze coming over the water had cooled considerably since he had first stood on the balcony. It almost felt like winter. "I'm fine," he lied. "I'll be in by midnight."
"Don't blame me if you end up toasting with Athosian ale."
John heard the door slide shut. He zipped up his jacket. It didn't give much protection from the suddenly chilly air, but it helped.
"John, are you all right?" Elizabeth came out to the balcony. She rubbed her arms. "It's gotten cold," she said, surprised.
"Yeah. The wind shifted a few minutes ago."
"You should come in."
"Yes, mom." John mustered up a grin. "I'm fine and I'll be home soon." Despite his attempt at humor, Elizabeth's brow was still furrowed. "You're sure you're all right? It's been a rough year."
"Yeah." He stayed silent and she touched his arm and went back inside. A rough year ... starting with the siege by the Wraith, losing Ford, and there was that whole bug thing which still gave him nightmares, even though he didn't remember the worst of it.
What it came down to was that he was tired, cold and wondering if it had all been worth the pain. That last betrayal as Ford stepped into the Wraith beam had been shocking. John had replayed that in his mind, relived it in his dreams and still couldn't save Ford any more than he had been able to save Colonel Sumner. He felt those failures keenly. He was a soldier. He knew military losses were unavoidable. Ford had been a good kid, but he hadn't been a friend. Maybe that made the burden of guilt heavier, because for a friend Sheppard would have offered his life.
Yet losing Ford had led him to Ronon Dex. Ronon, a soldier from an alien culture devastated by the Wraith, was more like Sheppard than any other man he had known. He fought as hard, killed and survived. From the moment their eyes had met, there had been the recognition that they were soldiers who could fight as a single deadly weapon. Ronon's skill had made him immediately valuable, but his friendship was beyond price. John hadn't expected anything more than friendship, hadn't expected it to become an offer of something more enticing, and like Ronon, dangerous ...
Heat flared between them, and Ronon took Sheppard's shoulders in his hands. Sheppard was watching him, a bit warily, but more like he was wondering what would happen next, not real alarm. Ronon bent his head and kissed him. Soft, wet lips, a slight taste of salt, a brief moment of more intimate contact as their tongues touched. Ronon stroked his hand down Sheppard's flank -- and stopped. John knew Ronon could use his strength to force Sheppard against the wall and he wouldn't fight. He could make that first move beyond what they had now. Instead, he had stepped back. He'd left enough bruises for the night.
In silence, they finished showering. Sheppard grabbed two towels and tossed one to Ronon. "I wouldn't have minded," he said over his shoulder, and walked away. *
He still wouldn't have minded, but Ronon hadn't made that next move, as if waiting for John to be ready to take the risk, to take the fall.
Tonight, he was just lonely enough, just cold enough to risk anything to be warm, not to be alone. Just his luck that he was alone and Ronon was at the Athosian settlement with Teyla and Lorne delivering a much-needed generator.
He looked at his watch. 23:45. The year was counting down.
"Sheppard." The warm smoke and honey of Ronon's voice whispered his name as Dex opened his leather coat to envelop John in warmth. "You're freezing."
"You're supposed to be on Athos. How did you get here?"
"Lorne set up the generator and Teyla said she would like to spend a few days with her people -- some sort of council -- so we flew home."
A buzz of arousal began coursing through John as he because aware of the beat of Ronon's heart, of his warmth, of his hard body sheltering his from the cold. "We should go in," he said, his voice thick and slow in his throat.
"Lorne says this is some sort of special holiday for your people."
"Yeah. Time to say good-bye to the old year and ring in the new. Really, it's just an excuse to eat and drink and watch football the next day."
"He also said that it was a time to be with somebody. Not alone out in the cold."
"I'm not alone," John objected. "We shouldn't be seen out here like this."
"Everybody's watching the clock, not us. What's champagne?" he asked in an apparent non-sequitur.
"Bubbly wine."
Ronon lifted a skeptical brow. "You drink it?"
"It's for special occasions. Like New Years, weddings ... You should try it. Let's go inside before I freeze."
Ronon leaned in, whispered. "I wouldn't let that happen." John shivered, but not from the cold.
Inside the gateroom, the mess personnel were circulating with trays of champagne. The Daedalus had carried it from Earth, courtesy of General O'Neill, who seemed to think that Elizabeth needed bribing with champagne to stay on as head of the expedition.
John snatched up two glasses and handed one to Ronon. Elizabeth stood above them in the control room, while Rodney counted down the remaining seconds to midnight."Three ... two ... one..."
The room erupted with cries of, "Happy New Year!" and everybody started singing. Ronon looked perplexed. "What are they singing?" he asked.
"Auld Lang Syne. It means something like for old time's sake, and we drink to old times and look to new and better ones."
Ronon drained his glass. "I can do that," he said, his eyes glittering. "Can we leave now?"
"Yeah. Let's get out of here."
They walked quickly to John's quarters. He opened the door and Ronon's shoulder was at his back, pushing him inside. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they were kissing. Fierce and deep, not gentle. Just pure heat and arousal like fire in his veins. He managed to close and lock the door, only half-aware that he had done it.
Ronon pressed John against the wall. His hands were hard on John's shoulders, strong and demanding. Ronon's tongue breached his mouth and John heard himself moan. He pushed back, just a small resistance that made Ronon growl with impatience. He muscled John over to the bed. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, they buckled and he fell back. He could have fought, but he didn't want to. He could have told Ronon to stop, and he knew he would have. He did neither. Ronon was working the laces on his boots loose and tugging them off. Socks, fatigues, briefs followed. The cool air was a shock on his skin. He gasped as Ronon's warm hands slid under his T-shirt and found his nipples.
Ronon fingered them to erect nubs, then laved them with his tongue. Hot sparks like electricity shot through John's nerves right to his cock. John pushed against Ronon. He drew back, just a hint of doubt in his eyes. "You've got too many clothes on," John said, and Ronon smiled. His heavy leather coat hit the floor, his boots, pants and long, loose top. He stood naked over John.
He was magnificent. John studied every inch of his amber skin, his muscles, his long, fine bones. He was either going to die or live as he had never lived before. He couldn't wait. He didn't have to wait, he had only to reach out. He sat up, stripped off the rest of his clothes and offered himself to Ronon; soldier, friend and lover. Everything.
Ronon set one knee on the mattress and leaned down to kiss John. He tasted like champagne and salt. Sweet and hot. He laced his fingers through John's and stretched his arms out. He kissed the thin skin of John's inner arms, tongued the bend of his elbows and sucked softly on his earlobes. His dreads brushed John's skin as his lips moved down John's throat.
Coolness followed the heat. Ronon lay his body on John's. John moved to bring their cocks into alignment; and it was Ronon's turn to gasp and shudder as their moist come slicked their skin. His thumbs pressed into the crease of John's groin.
"Ronon, wait," he managed to rasp. He stretched out to reach into the drawer of the small chest by his bed. He fumbled for the lube and condoms he kept there. He wondered if he would have to explain it. Judging from the fierce grin on Ronon's face, explanations weren't needed.
Ronon knew exactly what to do. John felt the cool slide of oil as Ronon, surprisingly gentle, worked the lube into John's skin, his finger finally seeking entrance to his body. John tensed at the intrusion, but he wanted Ronon, he wanted all of him and he knew the discomfort would pass.
"You sure?" Ronon asked.
God, he asked ... and John was overwhelmed. "Yes." He canted his hips, allowing himself the luxury of open, naked trust in this man.
Ronon was gentle first, waiting for John to adjust to his size and length. Then when the pain eased to an edge of pleasure, he began a sensuous rock and thrust that made John whine with exquisite need and urgency. His big, warm hand wrapped around John's cock, jerking him off with the same rhythm as his movements.
John felt stretched, raw, overwhelmed with sexual tension. If Ronon would just move. John rocked his hips at the same moment Ronon thrust deeply, finding the sweet spot that sent John into a spiraling ejaculation. He watched Ronon's beautiful eyes go dark with arousal. His head fell back, exposing his throat, the muscles working against a cry of ecstasy as he climaxed.
They fell together; and John was no longer alone, no longer cold. Ronon covered him with warmth and the glorious messiness of sex. He withdrew from John, pitched the condom with unerring aim into the wastebasket, and held him.
John shifted a bit and reached for the blanket, dragging it over them both. He looked at the clock. An hour after midnight. No matter if this was sex, comfort, or if he was on the verge of something more, something deeper than he had ever shared with another human being. For now, it was enough to be with Ronon on this night that gave birth to a new year.
"You're over-thinking," Ronon's voice vibrated against his chest. "Go to sleep."
"Not," he said into the warm hollow of Ronon's throat. He felt the throb of Ronon's heart, steady and true. He was right. Nothing else mattered. He closed his eyes and slept.
The End
*From my story Small Bruises