Summary: During S2E5 Condemned, Sheppard discovers something about himself, now he just has to tell his lovers.
Written for lj comm bdsm_fandom March challenge The Collarpalooza, and beta'd by the wonderful Wings128, much
John sat on the bed waiting for Lorne and Ronon to arrive; he swallowed hard recalling their mission earlier in the week.
He and his team had been on another mission to seek trade on an unknown world. After their initial landing and subsequent rescue by the Olesians, they'd quickly discovered the island where the gate was located, also inhabited Olesia's penal colony. Escorted to the mainland they had talked to the magistrate for possible trading before heading back to the gate. Over the island to their surprise they were shot down, and held captive by the colony's population of prisoners.
Days later, back in the safety of his room on Atlantis, John couldn't dismiss the memories that teased him. Inhaling deeply, he recalled the smell of worn leather. The collar had been old and well used; its weight thick and heavy to remind him of it presence as it sat securely buckled behind his neck. The fit tight enough to bring a labyrinth of sensations that, at the time, he couldn't afford to address.
Captured, bound and tied by leather rope, and effectively collared, did nothing to stop John's pending arousal. It was intoxicating and he fought, not for his freedom; but to reign in his excitement.
Seeing Ronon continue to struggle and fight against his bindings, sobered John, had him unconsciously pulling against his own collar. The added pressure brought a burn so intense that he almost gasped out and closed his eyes, the sensation going straight to his dick.
Flustered, John stilled and tried to appear unaffected and focused on his team - on Ronon. For them there was no pleasure; fixating on that worry for his team was the only thing that dampened John's arousal.
Under different circumstances if it'd been just Ronon or Lorne, essentially his lovers for the last four months, there'd be no way he'd be able to stop or hide the effect a collar had on him from either of them.
Since their return to Atlantis though, John hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. His mind wandering down paths triggered by a lingering desire for the collar and the fantasies it was bringing with it. Fantasies he'd never had or experienced before; fantasies that were fucked up.
There was no doubt he liked sex, a lot. It didn't matter if he was doing the fucking, or better yet being fucked. Still, this other shit. Sure, he knew and heard about kinky porn stuff all the time, he was a guy in the military, who hadn't. Thing was John never got into that shit. The kinkiest thing he'd ever done was to get involved with both Evan and Ronon.
Every day now, he'd wake with the sheets soaked. Fantasies crept in, embarrassing him at inappropriate times, images where he was kept naked, chained, and collared. Apparently he'd been naive in believing no one would notice his lack of focus because today, Elizabeth ordered that he take a few days off – to take a break. She even scheduled Morris and Stackhouse's teams to pick up the slack so both his and Lorne's teams could be put on stand down, effective immediately.
In her office facing Elizabeth, John wanted to deny the charge that he needed any down time, but he couldn't and had to look away. He'd gotten too many perplexed stares lately, been caught daydreaming, his mind drifting. Even with Elizabeth looking on he couldn't stop a flash of memory from pushing through. A vision of what it felt like to wear that collar - the burning chafe against his skin when he shifted, the solid weight around his neck – the thought suddenly colliding with a fantasy of Evan, or Ronon holding a leash...
John abruptly nodded his acceptance and quickly left her office to return to his quarters.
By the time he walked into his room, John knew the only way to get the fantasies out of his system was to act on them. He had always heard how the fantasy never lived up to the reality; playing it out would get it out of his system. If he didn't he was bound to really screw up and force Elizabeth's hand, he could do without mandatory counseling with Heightmeyer. Although it was supposed to be confidential there'd still be a record of exactly how perverted he was.
No, if he was going to tell anyone it'd be Evan and Ronon – he could only hope that as their CO they wouldn't think any less of him. Hastily, before he could change his mind, John sent a private message to both of them requesting they meet him in his quarters.
Now all he had to do, was wait.
Gnawing on his lower lip, John gripped and stared at the strip of leather in his hand. It was only a make shift collar; one that would have to be tied, rather than buckled, around his neck.
If they accepted and allowed this - John clutched the collar as his door swished open then closed.
Startled, John's anxiety got the better of him, and he didn't bother to look up to see who had come in.
Evan was standing in front of John, his hand caressing John's face "Guess you were right." Behind Evan, John heard Ronon's grunted assent.
Evan tilted John's chin up, gently enforcing him to look up at him.
John complied losing himself in the blue hues of Evan's eyes.
"You ready to tell us what's going on?"
John nervously licked his lips and choked out. "Elizabeth put me and the teams on stand down."
Evan nodded, "I know, but that's not what I meant." His thumb swept over John's lips.
After hanging up his coat, Ronon took off his boots. Barefooted, he sauntered closer then leaned over giving Evan a quick peck on the cheek. Then he straddled the bed to sit behind John, scooting in even closer to press his chest against John's back.
Ronon's breath hovered over John's ear, his voice loud against the quietness of the room. "You've been distracted – since Olesia." Ronon's hands slid sensually up and down John's thighs.
John groaned and leaned back spreading his legs wider.
Although his hands stayed in constant motion Ronon ignored John's silent request and purposely avoided the awkward angle of John's rock hard dick trapped inside his pants.
"Now why are you distracted?"
John flushed, feeling the heat of embarrassment and excitement mingle together as his fist tightened.
Without breaking eye contact Evan lifted his hand, and gently encouraged John to unclench his fist.
Worriedly John looked away and closed his eyes.
"Don't, you have nothing to be afraid of."
Gruffly Ronon added, "Or ashamed of."
"He's right. We trust each other with our lives out there every day, to have our six. In here that doesn't change. That's why it's worked so far." Evan's thumb skimmed over John's cheek just as Ronon squeezed his thighs.
They were silently imploring him to trust them. He did. He just had a hard time letting go of preconceived notions of what and how he's suppose to be. It was difficult enough coming to terms that he liked dick, and even harder that he liked to be fucked, but this... This was more than that.
It was only in this moment, John realized he was close to the abyss of something he didn't know he wanted, or even realized he needed. His heart raced, thundering hard in his chest. Overwhelmed John opened his eyes meeting Evan's gaze.
The words stuck in his throat, so John tried to convey everything he felt with his eyes, hoping Evan would understand.
After a long moment Evan nodded. "Alright we'll go slowly, as slow as you need. You and Ronon."
The question and his confusion must have been easily readable over his face. Evan's gaze drifted behind John to Ronon.
He felt Ronon shift, his breath hot on John's neck. They were so close John heard an audible gulp from Ronon. "I... on Olesia, I hated being bound and tied. But..." Ronon inhaled then exhaled, "but when you made it an order, I was okay."
John bobbed his head remembering how Ronon pushed him to make it an order, but it was more than that. It was how Ronon's entire body relaxed as soon as it was an order. John's mind couldn't stop replaying the images in his head, not exactly sure what he was supposed to understand by Ronon's confession.
Evan demanded his attention. "But John, we - I don't want to misinterpret anything. If you don't have the words to tell us what you need then I need you to at least demonstrate it with action."
John felt Evan's fingers brush over his making him aware of the leather he held. Clenching his fist John raised his arms. His lovers' hands, in front and behind pulled the hem of his shirt up, fingertips trailing along his skin as they removed his shirt.
Dropping one end of the strap John let it dangle as he wrapped the leather around his neck then held the ends out in a gesture he hoped Evan would accept.
Evan took the strips and pulled, tightening the space before he tied the ends together. "Tonight and for the next few days, we'll play. If afterwards this is more than just curiosity - something you really want you'll have to verbally state what you want. Then perhaps we'll properly collar you. For now, in here when you're wearing this..." Evan tugged on his collar even as Ronon undid his pants. Long fingers burrowed under the material meeting flesh as Ronon stripped John of his pants and underwear in one practiced move.
Evan smiled, as he bent down, his words loud enough for Ronon to hear "...you're ours to do what we want." To emphasize his point Evan pulled on the collar swallowing the moan that escaped, and devoured John's willing mouth.
Chapter End Notes:
Depending on time & my muse I may come back to this- at least the conversation between Lorne/Ronon prior to this scene.