 |
||||||||
 |
||||||||
Coherence by Inkscribe
Ronon stood tall and silent, looking at the man kneeling before him. He appeared calm, even serene, his posture straight and perfect, his head bowed in submission. His breathing was deep and even, a steady flow in and out, the collected quietude of meditation enveloping the man like a warm blanket. Surrounding them both was the leafy splendour of Atlantis' life-support core, the trees, bromeliads, mosses, and ferns, inextricably linked together in an artificial biome to help provide clean, breathable air for the city when it travelled through space. The life of the small forest sang loud in Ronon's sensitive ears, tiny pollinators and compostors going about their business undisturbed as they had for millennia while the city slept. Generations born and died, generations building and tearing down the beauty that surrounded them. More than any other single thing within Atlantis, this one space showed Ronon the genius of the Ancestors. A place of essential function and natural form, the space allotted to it filled completely with everything essential to its long-term survival. Ronon continued to look at the man before him. Survival, he thought, his mind filled with thoughts both warm and sad. Were it not for the need to survive, they might not be here today, preparing to enter this ritual, preparing to bring their lives together even more profoundly than what they already shared. But they needed each other, they needed this: something permanent in a place where impermanence was the norm. Ronon walked carefully around the man, taking in his posture, the way his robes were arranged about him just so. The angle of his hooded head, the soles of his bare feet peeking from under the robe. Ronon took a deep breath and stepped in front of the man, smiling warmly. Ronon reached a hand forward to cup Carson's cheek in a gentle caress, raising the man's head so they could gaze into one another's eyes. Despite the perfect posture and the calm, steady breaths, Ronon was nearly bowled over by the intensity of desire coming from Carson. He shivered at the sensation, his body surging with its own desire, desire Carson could likewise sense. Coherence was a ritual of belonging and being, one that allowed members to see deep within one another, and one that came in different forms for different purposes. On Sateda, Ronon had partaken of many Coherence rituals, from adoptions of orphaned children to acceptance within the ranks by the Taskmaster. This one, though – this was the only time Ronon had ever faced Coherence with his mate. His beautiful, intelligent, hurting mate. Even under the desire, Ronon could sense Carson's pain, a raw, open wound. The strong tea they both consumed as part of their preparations made them highly susceptible to the thoughts and emotions of others. For Ronon, the experience was shockingly like a Wraith's mindspeak, only without the terror, without the fear of imminent death. Only the deep intimacy of thought and emotion, laying bare to one another what was there beneath the surface. Ronon continued to smile as he poured his own love and desire into those bright blue eyes. Blue like the sky, he thought. Blue like the surface of an active Gate. So beautiful. So rare on Sateda. Teyla and McKay stood for them outside, in the time-honoured role of guardians of their pairbonding – pairbonding being the most intimate form of Coherence possible, one that met both the minds and the bodies of the two participants. Ronon and Carson smiled at the shared thought: McKay hadn't known what to make of the ritual when Carson asked him to stand, but soon came around to being one of their most ardent supporters, reminding others in their circle of friends of both the joys and terrors of being able to hear the thoughts of others, and suggesting that he couldn't come up with a better way to connect people even if he were the smartest man in twenty galaxies. Carson nuzzled his cheek into Ronon's hand as they continued to stare into one another's eyes. Teyla, too, had helped. More than any here she understood the significance of the ritual, even if the specifics of it were unlike that which her people practised. Through her contacts, she obtained both their ceremonial robes the herbs necessary for the tea. She helped Ronon to prepare it over the last few weeks, the long time necessary to render the materials into something Carson called an entheogen, but which Ronon simply called tea. Done incorrectly, though, the tea would be a bitter poison, one without cure. Ronon had no interest in harming his mate. Ronon reached his other hand to Carson's face, holding the doctor's head gently between his hands. "Love," he breathed, and Carson's eyes answered yes. Ronon leaned forward and brushed his lips across Carson's, a kiss that was sweet, light, and delicate. A kiss unlike those that would come soon enough, yet Carson moaned as though they were already in the throes of their passion. Ronon smiled. "I know, Carson," he chuckled, a deep rumble. "Not much longer now." He could feel his arousal hot and hard under his robes, and knew Carson's was equally so. Knew it in his mind, in his heart – their shared minds bringing thoughts and emotions bright and tangible between them. Knew it in his very bones. From the moment Ronon met the doctor, he had been pulled off-centre by the man's steadiness under pressure. His willingness to put himself in danger to save others – their very first meeting being the surgery that saved Ronon's life from the terror of being a Runner. Even without the tea, he had scented the man's fear, pungent and strong, as he worked to remove the transmitter embedded in Ronon's spine. Now, though – had he any doubts before, they would have been erased by the memories he saw inside Carson. I was afraid, aye. Afraid for us both. Carson was like a gift from the Ancestors. Not only did he have their very genes within him, but he had care for the people around him that was far beyond anything Ronon was used to. Even Melena, a wonderful woman, wouldn't have compared. Ronon choked a little at the memory of his first love, blinking back his own tears of loss of his love, his people, his planet. He saw Carson's eyes likewise red-rimmed with the shared memory. Ronon knelt before Carson and kissed him again, a kiss full of warmth and love. Of belonging. The two men belonged to one another like they'd never belonged to anyone or anything before. Carson saved Ronon, and Ronon saved Carson. In the brutal reality of living in a state of war with the Wraith, they'd both saved one another more than once, and doubtless would again. Ronon felt Carson twitch, a movement quickly stilled as he forced himself to remain in the opening position for Coherence. Ronon smiled into their kiss, feeling Carson's desire to reach forward and hold him and to be held in return. Now we begin, Ronon thought. Remaining kneeling before Carson, Ronon reached forward, loosening the man's robes and slipping them from his shoulders to pool around him on the soft, mossy floor. Ronon gasped at the sight. He knew Carson was magnificent: they had made love many times in the last year since becoming intimate, but never had he seen him like this, kneeling, his body clean and bright with a light sheen of sweat; trembling, eager, submissive. Ronon understood submission: he submitted for Carson and only for Carson; but for Coherence, this one time, Carson offered his submission to Ronon. Reaching inside his robe, Ronon withdrew a long cord, one braided in the colours of both Carson’s clan and Ronon’s city. He placed it reverently on the ground between them. He heard and felt Carson’s breath quicken at the sight, and he again brought his eyes to his mate’s, drinking in the desire. Ronon placed his hands on Carson’s shoulders, slipping them along muscled arms to strong hands, gently pulling those hands forward, holding them wrist to wrist. With one hand, Ronon held his mate’s wrists while he used the other to retrieve the cord and bind them together. Through their shared link, the warrior could feel the doctor’s arousal warring with his natural trepidation at being confined, and Ronon not only sent soothing thoughts to Carson, but also lifted the now-bound hands to his mouth, kissing the back of each before gently replacing Carson’s hands in a relaxed position. A position that neatly framed the rigid cock jutting there, its stillness completely belying Carson’s inner urgency and need. Ronon smiled and stood. Trailing a single fingertip along Carson’s shoulder, he walked around him, settling again to his knees at Carson’s back. With both hands, he worked Carson’s flesh, kneading and caressing his back. He felt rather than heard the moan from Carson, the man remaining admirably still despite the desire surging through him. He leaned forward and licked a line along his spine from mid-back to the nape of Carson’s neck. Carson shivered. Ronon felt an answering shiver travel through his own body. Ronon chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Carson’s trunk, holding him tightly against his chest for a moment while he nuzzled and licked at Carson’s neck. Carefully avoiding brushing his mate’s cock, Ronon pulled his body away and gently coaxed Carson’s body back until he was supine on the discarded robes. Kneeling at Carson’s head, Ronon gazed down into his clear blue eyes. “Love,” Ronon whispered. “Aye,” Carson whispered back. “Sometimes they die,” he said. Despite the tea, Carson clearly hadn’t expected Ronon’s words. He blinked up at Ronon, his eyes bright with sudden tears. Ronon felt the surge of pain within his mate, raw as though still fresh and new. He felt his own eyes sting with tears, and then they were each crying, wet streaking their faces as they sobbed soft and quiet in the shelter of the forest biome. So many, Carson thought. I couldn’t save them. No, Ronon thought. Sometimes, you can’t. His mate’s pain reopened his own, the loss of his friends and family, the loss of Melena, the loss of his entire people. The loss of any quick death at the hand of a Wraith, the horror of being forced into serving their twisted need for sport. Tears dropped from his face to Carson’s, mingling together on his mate’s skin. Ronon cupped his hands around Carson’s face, using his thumbs to stroke the salty wetness into his skin, caressing him gently as they cried out their mutual pain. Slowly, they regained their breath, regained their sight, reddened though it was. Carson gave him a sad smile, and Ronon returned it. “Love,” Ronon said again. “Aye,” Carson whispered, again. “We honour their memory,” Ronon said. Carson blinked, nodded once. “Aye,” he said, his voice strangled yet once again hinting at the strength Ronon knew was there. Ronon wriggled back slightly, enough to allow him to bend forward and brush a kiss to his mate’s lips. “Now we honour our love,” he said, soft into Carson’s mouth. Carson’s lip trembled against his, but he nodded his assent. Ronon straightened, smiling. He rose in one movement, hearing Carson gasp as the sensation of muscles and bone moving in lithe coordination was reflected through their bond. He stalked around Carson’s form to stand tall at his feet. “We have proclaimed our intent,” Ronon intoned. “To form Coherence on this day as a bonded pair. Our people assent, our intent is supported. Our friends watch that none may interfere or injure.” “We have proclaimed our intent,” Carson repeated, his voice quiet. “Coherence binds us in thought and touch,” Ronon said. “We form Coherence as friends, as lovers, as mates, and as an eternal bond.” “Coherence binds us in thought and touch,” Carson said, slightly louder. “As your hands are bound, so is my heart,” Ronon said. “As my hands are bound, so is your heart,” Carson replied. Ronon’s heart beat wildly at the sight of his lover. Carson’s cock, softened recently from their shared pain, was again eager and hard, jutting upward, expectant. Ronon took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself sufficiently to make it through the next stages of the ritual. The constant feedback of his mate’s emotions and sensation was already intense, nearly overwhelming, and once they began to touch, he feared he would lose himself completely without finishing the ceremony. “It’s all right, love,” he heard Carson say. He looked into Carson’s face, saw his smile, bright and shining with warmth, with love. Ronon drew open his robes, allowing them to slide to the ground. He heard Carson gasp, for the first time seeing the intricate patterns stained on his body, patterns proclaiming in symbols both ancient and modern that Ronon Dex was the bonded mate of Carson Beckett forevermore. So beautiful, he heard Carson think. Ronon felt his cock twitch, felt the same sensation in his mate. He slid to his knees at Carson’s feet. Slowly yet without hesitation, Ronon placed a hand on each ankle, stroking his fingers along his mate’s lower legs, painting them in patterns that matched Ronon’s, only painted solely by his finger’s touch, invisible but forever burned into his mate’s skin. He heard Carson whimper at the sensation, and he bit back his own cry of desire, of lust. His hands crept upward, his strokes covering both the outside and inside of Carson’s legs, from ankle to hip. Wriggling forward on his knees, he sat now between his mate’s thighs, the man’s cock tantalisingly close. In one smooth motion, Ronon leaned forward and took Carson deep in his mouth, swallowing him down to the very root. “Ronon!” Carson cried, bucking into his face. Ronon moaned around Carson’s cock, sucking at him gently for a few moments before pulling away. The sensation of mouth-cock-mouth surged through his body, the reflection of Carson’s sensations as intense as his own. Surging upward, Ronon stood and stepped over his mate’s thighs, straddling his waist before lowering himself again to his knees. He pushed Carson’s bound arms above his head, then reached behind to grasp his cock. Holding Carson’s bright, sharp gaze with his own, Ronon lowered himself onto his mate’s cock, his earlier preparations making the physical joining of their Coherence comfortable, almost easy. With infinite care, Ronon sank down until he was impaled utterly. Carson moaned, and Ronon felt the hot tightness almost as if it were around his own cock. He moaned likewise. Reaching up to grasp Carson’s bound wrists, he took his mate’s mouth with his, kissing him hard and deep. Carson moaned again and bucked into Ronon’s body. Ronon felt Carson shift his legs, bending them for leverage, and then the hard, pounding drive of his mate fucking him, just as hard and deep as Ronon was driving his tongue into Carson’s mouth. Ronon felt his balls grow heavy and tight; then he was coming, spurts of his seed hot and sticky between them. In the senseless bliss of his own orgasm, he felt Carson’s begin, another layer of sensation in his own. He felt him bucking yet harder into Ronon’s body, crying out his release with incoherent sound in Ronon’s mouth. They lay entwined, Carson’s softening cock still within Ronon. Ronon pulled Carson’s bound hands forward and over his own back, capturing himself in Carson’s bound embrace. He slid his arms under and around his mate’s shoulders before tucking his head next to his Carson’s. “My heart, your hands,” Ronon said into Carson’s ear, his voice rough. “My hands, your heart,” Carson responded, his voice likewise rough. He felt Carson slip from his body, his mate’s essence running wet along his thighs. Carson lifted his arms from Ronon’s back and replaced them above his head. Without breaking apart, Ronon slid his hands along Carson’s arms, releasing Carson’s binding by touch alone. Ronon made a happy hum in the back of his throat, and he heard Carson chuckle. “Thank you,” Carson breathed into his ear. Ronon nuzzled deeper into his neck. He felt Carson draw up his robe from the ground, wrapping them both against the chill that would come as their sweat-sheened bodies cooled even in the warmth of the artificial forest. Rolling them both sideways to cuddle tightly together, Ronon used a foot to draw his own robe from their feet, covering their legs. Carson chuckled again. “What would I ever do without you?” he said, happiness and love strong in his words and crystal clear through the sensations of their bond. “Never without you,” Ronon mumbled, wrapping himself around and into Carson’s embrace. “Never without each other.” End, Coherence |
||||||||
Title: Coherence Pairings: Beckett/Dex Summary: Ronon and Carson engage in a profound and private ritual. Warnings: none really (yeah, shocking, ain’t it?) Rating: NC-17 Words: ~2,800 Spoilers: eh, very tiny references to S2 Sateda, but you might blink and miss them; if you haven’t figured all of those out by inference already even without having seen the episode, well ... sheesh. ;-) ... and an even tinier reference to S3 Tao of Rodney, which can be missed even without blinking. *g* Author's Notes: For the third-annual Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, or Just Make ‘Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi Fandom Challenge My prompt: Trust and vows (promises are kept or broken; loyalty or betrayal; absolute trust or doubt; fidelity or infidelity; blindfolds or bondage as trust symbols; commitment or fear of commitment; acts of devotion; marriage vows; unconditional love; blood brothers and oaths; showing trust/faith in someone's abilities.) Beta: by LiveJournal user mice1900, for whom thanks are never truly adequate, but thanks anyway *g*. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own. Thank you also: to LiveJournal users mice190, sgatlantislight, nickespix, ankhmutes, and desala for listening to me bang my head against the wall on this one, far more often than I would have liked. I swear, I had this really really really great idea, but it relied upon the loan of another author’s AU, and sadly, permission wasn’t forthcoming. And of course that idea still won’t leave my head, even now! *headdesk* Hopefully this alternate effort isn’t outright embarrassing. Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine; please don’t sue, we’ll both regret it in the morning. |
||||||||
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|