• If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • You already know Dokkio is an AI-powered assistant to organize & manage your digital files & messages. Very soon, Dokkio will support Outlook as well as One Drive. Check it out today!


Perceived Freedom

Page history last edited by nate 14 years, 6 months ago

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate: Atlantis or the characters/plot, no money has or will be made by this fic.

A/N: Written for a prompt by lothy on my lj (for consci_fan_mo), who wanted Stargate Atlantis - a rare pairing (maybe something like Ronon/Lorne but it's up to you) - publicly showing submission.

Perceived Freedom




Ronon Dex was ready to rip someone limb from limb when he heard of Major Lorne’s capture. It wasn’t the fact that he was being held against his will, that sort of thing happened all the time it seemed, it was that some bastard was trying to claim him as theirs.  Samantha Carter hadn’t known what had come over him when the large Satedan strode into the central control room and demanded that Chuck dial out to the planet Lorne and his team had been on when he was taken.  Despite his usually aggressiveness to the Wraith, she’d never seen him look so focused and riled up before and fearing that he might well shoot anyone who got in his way she nodded her assent.


As the event horizon whooshed into existence Ronon stood at the bottom of the ramp, his fingers flexing agitatedly. A strip of leather was wrapped around one of his hands a couple of times.  He didn’t wait for the go ahead or for anyone else to join him, as soon as the event horizon settled he was striding purposefully up the ramp and through the ‘gate.


The town was approximately a ten minute walk from the stargate on the planet, but Ronon estimated he would probably make it in less than that.  He didn’t hear the ‘gate disengage straight away and knew without looking that he’d been followed through, probably by Sheppard and possibly Teyla too.  He was a man on a mission, he was on the warpath and heaven help anyone who tried to stop him from his goal.


Just over five minutes later he found himself in the town square.  He stopped and looked around, quickly assessing the way things stood.  It would seem that in this place an adult was either an owner or owned.   He heard raised voices, recognised it as Evan’s and started towards it. 


When a scrawny-looking man, no taller than McKay but with far less weight to him, moved in front of him, Ronon glared down at the man.   “Move,” he rumbled with hints of a growl in his voice.


“I can’t allow you to interfere in the training of a newly claimed,” the man told him, voice wavering noticeably from nervousness despite his resolution to try and prevent Ronon from going any further. 


At 6’5” in height and built like he was, Ronon was an imposing enough figure without the thunderous look on his face.


“Evan Lorne is no newly claimed anything, he belongs to me and that <I>man</I> in there is violating my boy,” he growled out menacingly.  His hand already moving towards his weapon.


The man paled considerably.  “He’s already owned?” he asked worried now for a different reason.


“I just said that, didn’t I? Now, outta my way.”


“There’s no need for threats or violence here,” the man told him, “we didn’t know he was already claimed, he bears no marks of ownership.”


“He does,” Ronon told him.  He pushed passed the man, deciding he wasn’t even worth shooting. 


He could hear the man trotting after him as he headed for the wooden door that was the only barrier between him and Evan. 


“Wait here, I will bring him to you.” A moment later the man dashed passed him and through the door.


A hand rested on his arm, not strong enough that he wouldn’t be able to shake it off, but unmistakably belonging to Teyla. “Ronon, I think it would be wise to give them a chance.  Of course, if they fail to return him then I’ll aid you in rescuing him by force,” she whispered to him calmly. 


Ronon didn’t question how much she knew of their relationship, at the moment it wasn’t really relevant and they’d been incredibly discreet in deference to Evan’s career. Very few suspected that they were even close never mind that they were lovers; they certainly wouldn’t have guessed that there was a power exchange that existed between them.  It didn’t matter right now; all that mattered was getting that filthy scum’s hands off his boy. They would deal with the fall out later.


He stayed where he was and from inside the building he heard the man call out,” “K’lem, you must release Evan and bring him out to the square.  One has claimed prior ownership.”


“What?” he heard bellowed back indignantly. “It’s obvious to all that he is unmarked, he is obviously free to be taken and tamed.”


Ronon tensed ready to fight for what was his. 


“That may be so to you. However, he claims that Evan is marked and he does have a right to prove prior claim, it is the law.”


K’lem was obviously not happy with this turn of events as the sound of a man in mid-tirade carried across the square.  People had stopped going about their business and were all watching and waiting to see what would happen.


Just as the wait was getting too much for Ronon and he was about to go in there, shooting first and questioning later, the man that had confronted him emerged with Evan collared and on a leash and accompanied by another man, who was clearly K’lem. Evan was bruised on his face and his shirt had been removed, when he turned and Ronon saw lash marks on his back, he saw red.


“You harmed what’s mine,” he growled as he started towards K’lem. 


John Sheppard dodged between Ronon and his target. “Stand down, buddy, let’s try and handle this calmly,” he said through gritted teeth, a hand on Ronon’s chest.  He understood Ronon’s anger even if he hadn’t known about their relationship before.


“He was unmarked, free to be claimed,” K’lem said loudly.


“He’s marked as mine,” Ronon reiterated, knowing all too well that he had placed the bite mark on Evan’s thigh just the night before.


“If you had taken the time and consideration to ask him you would have known that,” Teyla interrupted.  “I suggest you remove that collar from him before we are no longer able to restrain his Master’s anger.”


Ronon’s blood was boiling.


“Is this correct,” the annoying man, who Ronon was starting to suspect was some form of elder or official in the society, asked of Evan.


Evan’s eyes were full of apology and pain as he looked at Ronon, sincerely regretting the situation. He was suffering from the beating and still anxious that more and worse was to come.  He looked at the man who had asked the question and nodded. “He’s my Master and he marked me just last night as he does every time I’m going to be away from him and am unable to wear my collar.


John resisted the urge to run a hand across the back of his neck; holding himself ready to defend his people, his P-90 held carefully at his hip.


“Where is he marked?” the man demanded of Ronon.


“His left inner thigh,” Ronon replied without hesitation, not once taking his eyes off Evan.


Evan could barely meet Ronon’s gaze, he felt he’d let him down badly even though none of this was his fault. 


Before the man or anyone else could say anything further Ronon ordered, “show them, boy.”


Evan’s eyes dropped submissively to the ground, he took a deep breath and without hesitation began to unfasten his uniform pants.  It was a good job he wore shorts or everyone would get a free show.  He pushed the pants down so that they were around his ankles. 


The bite mark was still a vivid red, an obvious statement of ownership for all to see and it stood out against Evan’s pale skin on his muscular thighs.  Everyone gasped.


“Some societies do not feel as we do with regard claiming another, in the interest in harmonious negotiations we feel that it is respectful not to force our beliefs onto them, this is how Master Ronon chooses to mark his boy whilst still respecting others,” Teyla spoke clearly and precisely.  It was made up on the spot, of course, but even Ronon would buy it if he didn’t already know better.


“You have our sincerest apologies, Master Ronon,” the man said as he gave a small bow and began to unfasten the collar from around Evan’s neck.


Once free, Evan pulled his pants up even as he heard K’lem continue to protest and be put in his place.  In a few strides Ronon was in front of his boy and the leather that had been wrapped around his hand was unfurled and buckled almost reverently around Evan’s neck.  The small silver tag glinted in the sunlight, if anyone doubted his claim it declared in one single word that Evan belonged to him.  It simply stated “Ronon’s”.


Evan knew that how they acted now was just as important as what had just happened.  It didn’t really matter though because he was simply acting on his own emotions, his own needs as he sank to his knees in front of Ronon.  His muscular body slid into a surprisingly graceful kneel of submission.  Evan offered himself to his lover once again; as he did every time that they reaffirmed their bond. 


Ronon’s strong fingers ran through his boy’s hair.  “Mine,” he rumbled out possessively.  His fingers gave a small sharp tug on the short dark hair.


Evan knew this signal, he looked up into hazel eyes as his lover leaned over him.  “Yours, Master, always yours,” he didn’t care that his commanding officer was standing not more than ten feet away.  At that moment it was irrelevant, besides, he trusted John; they had often had each other’s back when they ran into a sticky situation.


“Think it’s time to mark that permanently,” Ronon told him, his voice low and without any hint of teasing.  He would tattoo his boy as his, it was about time anyway: they had been together three years.


“Again, you have our most humble and sincere apologies, Sir,” Ronon ignored the man as he tugged Evan’s hair in a silent command for him to stand. 


With one last glare in K’lem’s direction, a glare that would leave even the stronger marines on Atlantis wetting their pants, he placed a hand on Evan’s neck, turned and led him back towards the ‘gate. Sheppard and Teyla could deal with the politics of the situation; he had his boy and his injuries to tend to.




[ readers]

Comments (0)

You don't have permission to comment on this page.