Note: Written as comment-fic for Sprat, 01/23/06. Revised and posted here 09/14/06. NC-17.
"Go! Go now! Faster, Rodney, run!"
"Colonel, the support!" Teyla shouted.
"Go!"
Ronon laid another hunk of half-petrified moss on the fire. Flames sprang up, brightening the cavern around them.
John tried not to stare at Ronon. Problem was there wasn't much else to look at. Just the tiny fire between them and the smoke rising from it. The smoke was going up on a diagonal, getting sucked out a fissure high in the rear part of their cavern. Not wide enough for them to crawl through.
Outside it was night by now. Inside, in the back of the cave, was a shallow pool of cold water fed by a spring trickling out of the rock. It tasted of minerals, but they wouldn't die of thirst before Rodney got them out.
They hadn't packed for a camping expedition.
"They'll get us out," John said pointlessly.
Ronon shrugged.
They split a powerbar for dinner. John said, "Sorry, I just don't want us to get into trouble if it takes them a while."
Ronon nodded. "A lot of rock came down."
John scowled at the fire. "Yeah."
"You warm enough?" Ronon got up and poked at the bank of moss around the spring.
John had a thin jacket, a long-sleeved t-shirt, his utility vest, pants, socks, and boots. Not including the spare ammo and weaponry, there was a shiny mylar emergency blanket in his pack, along with an MRE and four more powerbars. He'd counted everything a dozen times now. He said, "This could be a problem."
"Are you scared of the dark?" Ronon asked, deadpan.
"Am I wha—" John began, but caught the glitter in Ronon's eyes. That was new. Maybe.
Ronon dropped a pile of heavy moss-chunks by the fire. "Do we know how cold it'll get?"
John shook his head.
John lay on the ground between their two mylar blankets with Ronon's long buckskin coat over him. The fire was dying; they were adding only enough fuel to keep the coals hot.
"Get in," John said, finally. "There's no point in standing a watch and I can't sleep with you stomping all over the rocks all night."
Ronon prowled from one end of the cavern to the other once more, put another clump of moss on the fire, and lifted the edge of the silver blanket.
"Come on," he said. "Rack out. Get some sleep." John shifted onto his side and pillowed his head on his pack. Ronon slipped in next to him and adjusted the coat to cover most of John and some of himself.
John slept.
He awoke wrapped tight around Ronon's side. Ronon's thumb was stroking his neck. Ronon's thigh was pressing hard against his hard-on. Or maybe that part was the other way around.
"Didn't mean to wake you," Ronon murmured. His hand didn't stop moving.
John didn't lift his head. He relaxed back into Ronon's side. Mostly.
But then Ronon was moving him, lifting him bodily and fitting him between his thighs. Another shift reset the coat over the blanket, holding their heat in. And then Ronon's hands were on John's ass, holding him steady.
John didn't say anything. He could feel Ronon's heart thudding beneath his own. His face lay on Ronon's shoulder, his mouth within kissing distance of Ronon's tattoo. His erection was pressed in next to Ronon's. He thought, this could get messy.
Reaching out with his left hand, John tossed another small, hardened ball of moss on the remnants of the fire. A small billow of ash flew up, but after several seconds it started to smoke. A few moments later, a trio of small yellow flames gave the cavern a warm golden glow, and John could see Ronon's eyes—the hunger in his eyes.
John nodded and ground their hips together. Ronon groaned.
"What do you like?" John asked. "What do you want?"
Ronon's hands were back on his hips, holding them tightly together. "Fuck," he said through gritted teeth.
"No supplies for that," John said with a smirk.
Ronon snorted. "Suck me? Then I'll do you?"
John shoved a hand between them, palming the front of Ronon's pants. He felt Ronon's tremble with his whole body. "You're that close?"
"Uh…yeah." Ronon's cheeks were going pink.
With a low chuckle, he unfastened Ronon's pants and slid down.