Title: A Little Lesson

[anorienparker.livejournal.com]

Title: A Little Lesson
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character: Ronon/John
Prompt: (Wildcard) Spanking/paddling for kink_bingo
Beta: The lovely minxkat
Word Count:
Rating: NC17
Notes: These characters don’t belong to me and no money was made.



“You deserve it,” Ronon said, determined not to budge this time. They’d talked about punishments before, but never really carried through. Today, though, was different. His partner was being an ass. “You’ve been a bastard to everyone, including me from the time you got up this morning until two minutes ago when you snapped Weir’s head off for no reason at all. She even asked me to ‘talk’ with you.” Ronon smirked at his own last words, knowing Weir would deduce how their discussion went when Sheppard wouldn’t be able to sit down at their next meeting. “Now. I think it’s time for a little lesson.”

John Sheppard glared at his lover and shook his head. “I’m a grown man, Ronon, and I’m sure as hell not going to let you spank me.”

Ronon laughed, deep and low in his chest. “You don’t have a choice, little man,” he said, moving in and easily catching both of Sheppard’s wrists, holding them behind his back with one hand. John struggled, but not very hard, then not at all when Ronon jerked his pants down without even unbuttoning them.

A heartbeat later, Ronon was sitting on the edge of their bed and John found himself sprawled over thickly muscled thighs. An impossibly large hand rested on John’s backside, almost petting him for a moment before that hand lifted, then came down hard on his ass cheek.

John couldn’t believe his lover was really spanking him. More than that, he couldn’t believe how much it was turning him on.

He made a small noise of protest, which only made Ronon laugh just before he brought his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He didn’t stop, instead, striking John’s quickly reddening backside over and over in a steady rhythm, marking him from the top of his ass to just below the curve of it, then finally including the very backs of his thighs as well.

John squirmed and moaned, quite possibly even whimpered a few times, but Ronon didn’t stop or even slow down, mainly because he could feel his lover getting harder with every blow. John’s erection was thick and full as it pressed against his thigh and every now and then, he could feel a few drops of warm liquid leaking against his skin.

When it was over, John was a mess and Ronon wasn’t in much better shape. His hand tingled as he rubbed that glowing red backside and tried to ignore his own cock, which was begging for attention.

Ronon stood, pushing John fully onto the bed and quickly slid out of his pants. Sheppard was more than eager to climb up on all fours without even being asked and spread his legs, giving his lover an easy target.

It took no time at all for Ronon to line himself up and thrust forward, causing John to moan softly as he was filled. The spanking and the sensation of that thick cock sliding him was all it took, and after only a few thrusts, John was coming hard on the plain white sheets bunched beneath him.

Ronon felt already tight muscles clenching around him and drove himself in one last time, groaning at the resistance of those gripping muscles as he forced himself past them to bury the head of his cock in John’s very core. His hands held his lover’s hips tightly enough to leave bruises and as he spilled inside the tight passage around him, he threw his head back and gave a loud cry that could be heard far beyond the door to their room.

Lucky for them, Weir had assigned them a room far away from everyone else for just this reason. They were, as the whole base knew, quite the noisy lovers.

Later that afternoon, she had to hide her smile as everyone gathered around the table in the conference room in response to an unknown ship that suddenly showed up on their radar. Sheppard seemed less tense, if still sarcastic and Ronon wore a quite satisfied look on his face, like a cat who’d just eaten a canary and was picking it’s teeth with the end of a feather. Ronon was sprawled in his chair and kept stealing glances at Sheppard who, for some reason, had elected to stand and for once, didn’t seem too keen on sitting in the puddle jumper for a few hours to go check out the threat.

Ronon had, as Weir had asked, taken care of the problem quite nicely, she reflected.