Hive

SGA Slash Fic: Hive 2/?



Ah. The thought came to him suddenly as he pondered the often impenetrable workings of Atlantis. More of Rodney's tinkering no doubt resulting from his work getting old programs back on line. So now the lifts responded to non-verbal cues, so far it was to John’s advantage. The new workings might actually make sense, if only John could figure out how the city knew what he was thinking.



Atlantis with more of her systems waking up, would want to respond to John. To the one member of the Atlantis Team who had the freakishly true form of the gene, fully expressed. John was an Ancient reborn ten thousand years after the death of the race in Pegasus, inheriting the perfect gene from both his mother and his father in a cosmic level coincidence. No wonder Atlantis wanted to stretch her wings and do for him. It had been too long for her.



Fine, John could deal. For once the change was something good not one more headache or another problem to overcome. He lowered his weapon and eased into the corridor going towards the dreaded meeting room. He really, really didn’t want to go there.



Damn, he wished there was something to shoot. Maybe just one itsy bitsy little Wraith to hunt down and blow to kingdom come...that would certainly be enough to get him out of the meeting. Out of sitting and discussing more tedious plans and portents, crops and failures, trading partners and dwindling supplies, and Wraith cullings. Well, maybe that last was not so tedious. And John knew just what he wanted to do to stop it. He tightened his grip on his gun, feeling his calluses rub across the skin warmed metal. Oh, yeah.



He wasn’t the first to enter Elizabeth’s briefing room. Rodney was there, as was Teyla, seated to Elizabeth’s right. Rodney had his head bent over one of three laptops that were fired up, typing furiously, his attention completely focused on what he was doing until John stepped into the room. Then Rodney glanced up, gave him a once over, gaze unmistakably lingering over the gun, and flashed a distracted smile in John’s direction before once more succumbing to the lure of his laptop.



Zelenka was pouring more coffee, carrying a creamed cupful to Elizabeth. John had no trouble recognizing the look in the shorter man’s eyes behind his glasses. Radek was in love with the unobtainable Elizabeth. No skin off John’s nose. The civilian leader of Atlantis was a few years older than John was, which made her close to forty. There were plenty of women on Atlantis who were younger and more fertile.



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She smelled good. Not perfume good, though there was that, but woman good, warm, ripe, supple and available. John drew the scent in, savored it. Bored, restless, he was pursuing more sexual liaisons than was probably a good idea, with more women, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, or to stop. He wasn't able to keep his attention on one woman, a night or two of lust and sex, and he was gone, seeking new prey. He lost interest. Not even politeness or respect kept him going back. He was being a heel and he knew it. But, he couldn't stop.



This one was incredible. Hot. Her blond hair fell across her collar like a wave of gold silk. Her mouth, plump and pinkened, a little chapped, without lipstick, succulent even so. Her heat was a siren's song in his mind. He wanted her. He needed to have her. Shove her up against the counter of the lab and spread her long legs, parting those tender lips that guarded her damp sex. She scented so ripe, so ready. He wanted to shove his way into her, and give her his plentiful seed. Fill her with it, with life. His skin threatened to crawl off his body if he didn't have her, now.



Which was an impossible dream; there wasn't even a closet unoccupied nearby. No where but the middle of the hall, or a research lab filled with working scientists. He visualized her again; open and beautiful, spread wantonly across the lab tables....and swore to himself. He had no condoms with him, he'd used his last and he hadn’t gone to Carson yet to get more. He could take her without one...he'd never done that, been inside one of them unprotected. It would feel incredible. His eyes shone.



God he wanted her. Had to have her. She was looking at him. Her mouth half open, her lips like sweet peaches waiting to be tasted, her clip board forgotten in her hands. He saw her nipples harden as he watched, as his eyes swept down her chest. He took a step towards her.



Rodney swung out of the adjacent room of the lab at his usual speed, distracted, head down, bent over the laptop he held awkwardly against his side, furiously punching more keys faster with one hand than John could with two, which meant full speed, and not looking where he was going. Until he ran into the woman. Which brought him to a full stop, and knocked her flying. Rodney was a solid two hundred pounds, some of it fat, but after the training John put him through, he had far more muscle than most gave him credit for. He scowled down at her.



"Ow!" Rodney yelped. "Dennison, can’t you watch where you are going? A simple 'excuse me, Dr McKay' would have sufficed." He griped, rubbing his shoulder. His laptop was still clutched in the other big hand, closed now. John sniffed in his direction. He smelled good too, familiar and comfortable. John considered what it would take to get Rodney to move out of the cluttered little room he now used and into John's new territory. He wouldn't mind it if Rodney was there, that wouldn't be an invasion. And he could keep an eye on him.



Rodney turned, looked at him, frowned irritably, and nodded. Then turned back to the woman he'd sneered at, Dennison was the name, John filed it away for use another time. Rodney's face hardened, his eyes darting back and forth between John and the blonde, picking up signals.



"Oh, please." He said rolling his eyes, his lips pressing into a flat line, crooked as always. "You need to get a grip. Before you start humping ~anyone~ who will hold still long enough." He said to John, the last part muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the woman to hear. And then he was gone down the hall storming off. Leaving John and the woman. The woman was red faced. John wasn't. He didn't care if Rodney thought he was a horny fool. He was. Right now he was horny for this woman right here in front of him. He took another step closer to her.



He moved in, his eyes fixing hers.



Dennison stared. His eyes...they were...she blinked as they changed. Amber and gold streaking the blue of his iris. They were, beautiful. He took another step. His pupils shifted, elongating, dilating. She gasped.



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John moved down the corridor, making no more sound than a shadow. Fast and smooth. Quiet, deadly. He reached the side of his tower and scaled the inner scaffold without a second thought ignoring the lift that would take him up if he’d bothered to use it. His movements were quick, efficient, and powerful. Ronon watched him, the man who was his commander, climb the steel girders.



He smelled of woman, of sex again. And Ronon had been watching him for long enough to know that when Colonel Sheppard returned to the rest of Atlantis, he would smell of only himself. Backed into the shadows he had thought he was far enough away to avoid detection. But the former runner had seen the change in Sheppard's body language. A change that could only mean Sheppard was aware of being followed and, Ronon hazarded a guess, he probably knew who his tracker was. Yet, Sheppard did nothing to stop him, didn’t confront him, which told Ronon the Colonel didn't object to his being here.



Sheppard had been changing. Ronon saw it; he’d seen this happen before. The first changes were only subtle differences, easy to miss. Sheppard was faster, stronger. Less a calming, reasonable influence during meetings and military missions. He was also busy tracking down every fertile female on Atlantis. He was more forceful, more authoritarian. His warriors, Atlantis' Marines followed him with fewer questions, sensing that natural authority, responding to it. Ronon watched it all, knowing early on what was happening.



John had changed; Ronon knew it was more than the changes he could see. And if he’d had any doubts the hair was the final confirmation he needed. The streak of white glowed like a beacon. Each week a little different, John’s body, what he could do with it, his mind, how he thought. Ronon could see an aggression in those altered blue eyes that hadn't been there before. He should act, he should go to Elizabeth, or to Teyla and ask them what to do, tell them.



It wasn't new to the tracker. Ronon had seen this happen before on Sateda and other places when a man or a woman was bitten by the Iratus. Most died. Some few survived a bite from the large insects. Those with the gene of the Ancients thrived. Until they were discovered to be mutants and were killed by one time friends and neighbors. Before they could become the new Wraith and perhaps feed upon the populace.



The new Wraith were stronger more deadly that the ones that plagued their Galaxy and the Wraith avoided them, never tried to feed on them. But they were a threat to the people. Not exactly the same as the Wraith. But like enough that the people of Pegasus wouldn't tolerate them, wouldn’t take a chance and let them live. After one was killed every person in the village was stripped and examined for signs they too had been bitten, and all hunted for the insect until it was found and killed before it could claim others. Ronon had been there, seen it happen more than once.



Now Ronon saw his commander, a man he respected and in the way of warriors, a man he was loyal to, becoming one of the changed. His hand folded around his knife hilt. He should kill him. Before it was too late. That would be the wise action to take. Ronon watched as John disappeared into the place he had taken as his own.





neichan