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sga_santaTitle: Untimely Discovery
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heeroluva
Recipient:kimberlite
Pairing: John/Ronon/Mitchell/Lorne
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them or make any money from them.
Author's Notes: This contains noncon of the AMTDI variety and the aftermath.
Summary: An encounter with slavers brings a humiliating discovery for John.
The arousal that shot through John the first time he'd felt the cool slide of metal around his wrists, securing his arms tightly behind him and essentially leaving him helpless had been a shock and profoundly humiliating. He couldn't even blame it on the surge of adrenaline that was still rushing through his system. Their captors had noticed quickly, pointing and jeering, calling him words he wasn't familiar with but were easy enough to glean their meaning from their tone, and joking that he'd be perfect for trading if he stood at attention from just a little bondage.
It was then that John's blood went cold as he realized they'd been captured by slavers. John felt the heavy weight of the men's gaze on him, the leers from the faces he refused to look at as they trekked through the long grass. And despite the growing terror welling in his belly, his cock remained hard and throbbing between his legs, causing John to curse his traitorous body.
When they reached the camp, the leader had instantly been on John, forcing him to the ground, his hands pawing at John's pants, and a detached part of John realized what was about to happen. John had known it was a real threat of combat, and such activities weren't unheard of in the barracks, but John had been lucky in the past. Under his command, John didn't care who slept with whom as long as it was consensual and didn't get in the way of his men doing their jobs.
It was Ronon that spoke up despite John's glare. "He's mine," Ronon proclaimed, declaring his Satedan heritage. Ronon didn't often talk of his cultural heritage, of where he came from, at least not that John had ever seen. However, Ronon's declaration clearly held some weight with the men around them and caused a stir.
"Prove it," the leader said, hauling John up and shoving him towards Ronon.
His pants halfway down his thighs and his erection pressing obscenely against his boxer briefs , John staggered to his knees in front of Ronon.
Ronon's wrists were unbound, and he fisted his hand in John's hair, tugging it and jerking his head back sharply, forcing their eyes to meet. John could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating from his face as Ronon's gaze raked over him, taking him in. His face was hard, but his eyes spoke volumes, begging John to go along with him and apologizing at the same time. Ronon had never led them wrong before, and John placed his faith in him, hoping that the gears were turning and that was a plan was in place. He would be the distraction.
When Ronon's free hand dropped to his fly and deftly drew his half-hard cock out of his pants, John quickly got the idea. And when Ronon spoke a single word, "Sulgo," John understood the meaning and didn't protest as his head was drawn forward.
This wasn't the first cock John had sucked, but it was definitely the biggest and getting even bigger still he realized as he attempted to take his length in his mouth. John attempted to push the vulgar laughter and hoots of encouragement from the men around them from his mind, tried to ignore the fact that two of his men were watching this as well as that they were both actually Ronon's lovers. John shoved it all away, focusing on Ronon, on his cock in his mouth, on Ronon's hands cupped around his skull, thumbs brushing circles along his quickly aching jaw. It could be any other fantasy that he'd entertained alone in his bed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't delude himself. This was real and no fantasy, definitely not a situation that he'd ever imagine.
John suddenly gagged as Ronon pushed in too deep, but that didn't stop him from shoving in hard, going deeper, causing John's throat to convulse. John tried to force himself to relax, swallowing past his gag reflex, taking it as Ronon all but fucked his face with such force that John knew his lips would be bruised and swollen if they survived this.
John wasn't sure how long it went on, but John forced himself not to think about anything but the hate. Not for Ronon or the team, but for the men that surrounded them and took pleasure from seeing the humiliation of others. When Ronon shoved particularly deep and stayed there, his fingers digging hard into John's scalp, John forced himself to swallow the bitter fluid. The sudden shouting and blasts of gunfire startled them both, causing them to jerk apart where the last burst of Ronon's orgasm landing on John's hair and face. The camp suddenly burst into motion, confusion running rampant, and Ronon tucked himself away and tugged John to his feet.
They took off running, using the confusion as a cover, and it wasn't long before they were joined by Mitchell and Lorne. Lorne procured the key somehow and made quick work of John's cuffs, letting him run easier. He noted how they both hesitated to look at him, and with an angry swipe John rubbed at his face, wondering if this would be a problem, if it would get around Atlantis.
They ran for some time before they finally reached the gate and John couldn't fully control the rising panic, and some of it must have shown on his face because the others spoke for the first time: Ronon saying, "John," at the same time Lorne and Mitchell began, "Colonel."
"Don't," John stated with a hiss. "Is this going to be a problem?"
Lorne and Mitchell shook their heads a sharp negative and John believed them. Ronon just fixed him with a stony glare, but that was good enough.
"Good. I'm declaring this world off-limits due to slavers and that's it. Understood?" John questioned, his voice full of steel.
Ronon still looked conspiratorial, but finally nodded with the others. Relieved, John dialed Atlantis ready to put this day behind him.
It couldn't be that easy though.
True to their word, the others had said nothing, though Carson hadn't seemed convinced by John's story on how he received his injuries. Nothing should have changed, yet everything did. John had never had a particularly active sex drive. After several lackluster experiences as a youth, he'd been content with the random fling and the occasional masturbation as an adult. Not anymore apparently.
He'd wake in the middle of the night to sticky sheets or worse hard and aching, which led to a masturbation session that left him unsatisfied. John couldn't even look at a pair of cuffs without blushing and feeling his heart race, and he was pretty sure others were starting to notice.
Worst of all were the nightmares that mixed with the fantasies, where Ronon hadn't stepped in, where he liked what they did to him. It was tearing him up inside, and while no one had said anything to him, he knew it was affecting his work. John often felt the weight of Teyla's stare these days. He had to do something about this, but didn't know what.
Surprisingly it was Lorne that came to him, setting a seemingly innocent pair of cuffs on his desk while voicing an offer for them to 'teach him.'
Something about it, something about how it was said had set John's teeth on edge, and he gritted out, "I don't need a pity fuck."
Lorne hadn't seen phased though and despite the fact that the door wasn't locked, that there was a window, and that anyone could walk in at anytime, he walked around the desk and kissed John, deep and hard, and John couldn't help but let himself sink into it.
"It's not a pity fuck. We want you, wanted you before, but we weren't sure after. Ronon thought after-" Lorne broke off not saying it, for which John was thankful. He grabbed the cuffs off the desk and shoved them into John's hand, curling his fingers around the smooth metal. "It's not as strange as you may think. Just consider it," Lorne said, brushing his lips across John's before turning and leaving him to brood.
Such a relationship wasn't something John had ever considered. Given the problems he had when there was just one other person involved, he couldn't imagine adding two more. But despite his doubts, he was intrigued and not just a little aroused by the prospect. He couldn't say that he'd never imagined, never thought about how their relationship worked, what the sex was like. If he was truthful it was a thought that had crossed his mind more and more lately.
The days passed and John kept the cuffs in his pocket, wanting to give it a go, but more nervous than he'd been as a virgin. He wasn't scared they would hurt him. If anything, he was more worried that he would enjoy it, and wondered what that said about him. He'd been pretty vanilla before, never really considering kink, never considering that he'd actually enjoy being in such a position, being so vulnerable.
A week later he found himself standing outside their room. He felt the quick scan Atlantis did when another person with the ATA gene wanted to know who was on the other side of the door before it slid open, allowing him entrance.
Ronon looked as shocked as John was sure he must have appeared, but Lorne's face lit with purely smug pleasure indicating that he'd given John permission to enter on purpose. Mitchell hadn't even noticed John's presence yet, clearly content to have his face seemingly buried in Lorne's ass. John felt his face flush at the obscene sounds he was making. Lorne was on his back, arms fastened securely to the headboard and his legs spread wide, his knees pulled high to give the other man easy access. Ronon took the opportunity to close the distance between them, tugging him towards the bed. There was no hesitation on John's part, no fear. Climbing on the bed beside them, Mitchell finally took notice, and gasped out, "John!"
But John's gaze was locked on Lorne's face as he moaned out, "Cam," in disappointment.
It was then that John realized it was strange to think of them by their last names in this situation. Cam and Evan, he tested mentally. He could do that. Ronon, who was at his back, tugged his head to the side, claiming his mouth in an apologetic kiss, soft yet demanding. John knew they'd have to talk later, that he needed to tell Ronon that he'd never blamed him for any of it. John shivered as he felt the long press of another naked body against his back and blunt teeth nibbling at his ear.
John didn't notice that the cuffs were stealthily pulled from their place in his pocket, but moaned as one band was suddenly wrapped around his wrists. When four hands tugged and positioned him to lay half on top of Evan, John's cloth covered erection pressing against Evan's naked flesh, John went willingly, eagerly. When his other wrist was pulled up and his bonds were fastened to the headboard, John moaned. This was what he'd wanted, needed, this loss of control, and with the feel of Evan's lips against his own, Ronon and Cam's hands on his body, John was finally okay with that.
Author:
heeroluvaRecipient:
kimberlitePairing: John/Ronon/Mitchell/Lorne
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them or make any money from them.
Author's Notes: This contains noncon of the AMTDI variety and the aftermath.
Summary: An encounter with slavers brings a humiliating discovery for John.
The arousal that shot through John the first time he'd felt the cool slide of metal around his wrists, securing his arms tightly behind him and essentially leaving him helpless had been a shock and profoundly humiliating. He couldn't even blame it on the surge of adrenaline that was still rushing through his system. Their captors had noticed quickly, pointing and jeering, calling him words he wasn't familiar with but were easy enough to glean their meaning from their tone, and joking that he'd be perfect for trading if he stood at attention from just a little bondage.
It was then that John's blood went cold as he realized they'd been captured by slavers. John felt the heavy weight of the men's gaze on him, the leers from the faces he refused to look at as they trekked through the long grass. And despite the growing terror welling in his belly, his cock remained hard and throbbing between his legs, causing John to curse his traitorous body.
When they reached the camp, the leader had instantly been on John, forcing him to the ground, his hands pawing at John's pants, and a detached part of John realized what was about to happen. John had known it was a real threat of combat, and such activities weren't unheard of in the barracks, but John had been lucky in the past. Under his command, John didn't care who slept with whom as long as it was consensual and didn't get in the way of his men doing their jobs.
It was Ronon that spoke up despite John's glare. "He's mine," Ronon proclaimed, declaring his Satedan heritage. Ronon didn't often talk of his cultural heritage, of where he came from, at least not that John had ever seen. However, Ronon's declaration clearly held some weight with the men around them and caused a stir.
"Prove it," the leader said, hauling John up and shoving him towards Ronon.
His pants halfway down his thighs and his erection pressing obscenely against his boxer briefs , John staggered to his knees in front of Ronon.
Ronon's wrists were unbound, and he fisted his hand in John's hair, tugging it and jerking his head back sharply, forcing their eyes to meet. John could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating from his face as Ronon's gaze raked over him, taking him in. His face was hard, but his eyes spoke volumes, begging John to go along with him and apologizing at the same time. Ronon had never led them wrong before, and John placed his faith in him, hoping that the gears were turning and that was a plan was in place. He would be the distraction.
When Ronon's free hand dropped to his fly and deftly drew his half-hard cock out of his pants, John quickly got the idea. And when Ronon spoke a single word, "Sulgo," John understood the meaning and didn't protest as his head was drawn forward.
This wasn't the first cock John had sucked, but it was definitely the biggest and getting even bigger still he realized as he attempted to take his length in his mouth. John attempted to push the vulgar laughter and hoots of encouragement from the men around them from his mind, tried to ignore the fact that two of his men were watching this as well as that they were both actually Ronon's lovers. John shoved it all away, focusing on Ronon, on his cock in his mouth, on Ronon's hands cupped around his skull, thumbs brushing circles along his quickly aching jaw. It could be any other fantasy that he'd entertained alone in his bed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't delude himself. This was real and no fantasy, definitely not a situation that he'd ever imagine.
John suddenly gagged as Ronon pushed in too deep, but that didn't stop him from shoving in hard, going deeper, causing John's throat to convulse. John tried to force himself to relax, swallowing past his gag reflex, taking it as Ronon all but fucked his face with such force that John knew his lips would be bruised and swollen if they survived this.
John wasn't sure how long it went on, but John forced himself not to think about anything but the hate. Not for Ronon or the team, but for the men that surrounded them and took pleasure from seeing the humiliation of others. When Ronon shoved particularly deep and stayed there, his fingers digging hard into John's scalp, John forced himself to swallow the bitter fluid. The sudden shouting and blasts of gunfire startled them both, causing them to jerk apart where the last burst of Ronon's orgasm landing on John's hair and face. The camp suddenly burst into motion, confusion running rampant, and Ronon tucked himself away and tugged John to his feet.
They took off running, using the confusion as a cover, and it wasn't long before they were joined by Mitchell and Lorne. Lorne procured the key somehow and made quick work of John's cuffs, letting him run easier. He noted how they both hesitated to look at him, and with an angry swipe John rubbed at his face, wondering if this would be a problem, if it would get around Atlantis.
They ran for some time before they finally reached the gate and John couldn't fully control the rising panic, and some of it must have shown on his face because the others spoke for the first time: Ronon saying, "John," at the same time Lorne and Mitchell began, "Colonel."
"Don't," John stated with a hiss. "Is this going to be a problem?"
Lorne and Mitchell shook their heads a sharp negative and John believed them. Ronon just fixed him with a stony glare, but that was good enough.
"Good. I'm declaring this world off-limits due to slavers and that's it. Understood?" John questioned, his voice full of steel.
Ronon still looked conspiratorial, but finally nodded with the others. Relieved, John dialed Atlantis ready to put this day behind him.
It couldn't be that easy though.
True to their word, the others had said nothing, though Carson hadn't seemed convinced by John's story on how he received his injuries. Nothing should have changed, yet everything did. John had never had a particularly active sex drive. After several lackluster experiences as a youth, he'd been content with the random fling and the occasional masturbation as an adult. Not anymore apparently.
He'd wake in the middle of the night to sticky sheets or worse hard and aching, which led to a masturbation session that left him unsatisfied. John couldn't even look at a pair of cuffs without blushing and feeling his heart race, and he was pretty sure others were starting to notice.
Worst of all were the nightmares that mixed with the fantasies, where Ronon hadn't stepped in, where he liked what they did to him. It was tearing him up inside, and while no one had said anything to him, he knew it was affecting his work. John often felt the weight of Teyla's stare these days. He had to do something about this, but didn't know what.
Surprisingly it was Lorne that came to him, setting a seemingly innocent pair of cuffs on his desk while voicing an offer for them to 'teach him.'
Something about it, something about how it was said had set John's teeth on edge, and he gritted out, "I don't need a pity fuck."
Lorne hadn't seen phased though and despite the fact that the door wasn't locked, that there was a window, and that anyone could walk in at anytime, he walked around the desk and kissed John, deep and hard, and John couldn't help but let himself sink into it.
"It's not a pity fuck. We want you, wanted you before, but we weren't sure after. Ronon thought after-" Lorne broke off not saying it, for which John was thankful. He grabbed the cuffs off the desk and shoved them into John's hand, curling his fingers around the smooth metal. "It's not as strange as you may think. Just consider it," Lorne said, brushing his lips across John's before turning and leaving him to brood.
Such a relationship wasn't something John had ever considered. Given the problems he had when there was just one other person involved, he couldn't imagine adding two more. But despite his doubts, he was intrigued and not just a little aroused by the prospect. He couldn't say that he'd never imagined, never thought about how their relationship worked, what the sex was like. If he was truthful it was a thought that had crossed his mind more and more lately.
The days passed and John kept the cuffs in his pocket, wanting to give it a go, but more nervous than he'd been as a virgin. He wasn't scared they would hurt him. If anything, he was more worried that he would enjoy it, and wondered what that said about him. He'd been pretty vanilla before, never really considering kink, never considering that he'd actually enjoy being in such a position, being so vulnerable.
A week later he found himself standing outside their room. He felt the quick scan Atlantis did when another person with the ATA gene wanted to know who was on the other side of the door before it slid open, allowing him entrance.
Ronon looked as shocked as John was sure he must have appeared, but Lorne's face lit with purely smug pleasure indicating that he'd given John permission to enter on purpose. Mitchell hadn't even noticed John's presence yet, clearly content to have his face seemingly buried in Lorne's ass. John felt his face flush at the obscene sounds he was making. Lorne was on his back, arms fastened securely to the headboard and his legs spread wide, his knees pulled high to give the other man easy access. Ronon took the opportunity to close the distance between them, tugging him towards the bed. There was no hesitation on John's part, no fear. Climbing on the bed beside them, Mitchell finally took notice, and gasped out, "John!"
But John's gaze was locked on Lorne's face as he moaned out, "Cam," in disappointment.
It was then that John realized it was strange to think of them by their last names in this situation. Cam and Evan, he tested mentally. He could do that. Ronon, who was at his back, tugged his head to the side, claiming his mouth in an apologetic kiss, soft yet demanding. John knew they'd have to talk later, that he needed to tell Ronon that he'd never blamed him for any of it. John shivered as he felt the long press of another naked body against his back and blunt teeth nibbling at his ear.
John didn't notice that the cuffs were stealthily pulled from their place in his pocket, but moaned as one band was suddenly wrapped around his wrists. When four hands tugged and positioned him to lay half on top of Evan, John's cloth covered erection pressing against Evan's naked flesh, John went willingly, eagerly. When his other wrist was pulled up and his bonds were fastened to the headboard, John moaned. This was what he'd wanted, needed, this loss of control, and with the feel of Evan's lips against his own, Ronon and Cam's hands on his body, John was finally okay with that.
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