Carson sat alone in his office and tried to wrap his head around what happened two hours ago. He'd returned to Atlantis at break-neck speed when Elizabeth informed him something was wrong with Ronon. A kaleidescope of images had wheeled through his mind - Ronon wounded, unconscious, or dying. He ran to the infirmary and eagerly read Dr. Biro's examination notes while his deputy looked helpless to explain what was going on. All she said was Ronon seemed more "moody" than usual.
It was a vague explanation at best, but Carson knew Biro and if the pathologist couldn't put a finger on what was wrong then that was worrisome. He'd cleared away the worst of his thoughts and planted a warm smile on his face as they entered the exam room where Ronon and Sheppard waited. The Colonel looked concerned, his usual flyboy attitude replaced with the somber countenance of an weary soldier.
Carson kept his voice light and teasing as he reached out to examine the discolored scratches on Dex's leg. But when he ignored the Satedan's protests a second time, Ronon surprised everyone by capturing the Scottish doctor's hand and twisted it painfully away. Too shocked to do anything but cry out, Carson watched as Ronon's grin widened as he squeezed the abused hand further.
John was on him in seconds, cursing and ordering Ronon to release Beckett. To say the experience was surreal was the understatement of the century. Carson let himself be led away by Biro and a nurse, sitting numbly as they performed an X-ray to determine if any bones were broken. His hand was fine, but sore from the rough treatment, much like Carson's heart felt.
How can a scratch cause someone to act so strangely? The question remained unanswered because after his tests, Carson learned Dex had left the infirmary with a very angry Sheppard close on his heels.
Absently, Carson flexed his bandaged hand and again replayed the entire event in his head, searching his memory for what he'd done to trigger Ronon's reaction.
"When did you lose your marbles, hm?"
Ronon shoveled another handful of muffin into his mouth before lifting hooded eyes to stare at Rodney. The scientist flexed his crossed arms and looked down his nose at his teammate. Dex picked up his fork and stabbed a greasy piece of ham.
"Oh, you're not talking? Well, I'm shocked."
"What do you want, McKay?" Ronon didn't look at the man.
"I want to know why you tried to break Carson's arm, you ingrate!" Rodney bellowed, his voice carrying loudly through the room. He was angry, hell, angrier than he'd ever felt when he heard what happened to his best friend.
"I knew you were some kind of ...of nut job buried under all that ...that hair, but to hurt Carson? That's bullshit! What's your problem?"
"Fuck off."
The reply was flat, but the venom behind it made Rodney shudder. Fuck off? The words ping-ponged off the walls of McKay's brain, fanning his temper to dangerously high levels. The scientist leaned forward and rested his fists on the table where Dex continued eating his breakfast.
"Normally, I wouldn't try to explain such a basic concept to a caveman like you, but seeing as you need to hear it, I'll make it simple enough for your primitive mind to grasp," Rodney's voice dropped uncharacteristically low and took on its own threatening tone. "If you ever, and I do mean ever, in this lifetime or the next, hurt Carson again, I'll make sure we close the iris the next time you're supposed to return through the gate."
There was a collective gasp in the mess hall when Ronon's arm shot out and grasped Rodney by the throat, lightning fast. A table with three Marines stood quickly, unsure what to do, but ready to launch on Dex.
Rodney knew Ronon saw them out of the corner of his eyes. The Satedan turned his head menacingly and sneered at the men. It had the effect he wanted, as each man remained rooted in place. Rodney stilled as Dex returned his attention to the astrophysicist who'd dared threaten him.
Lowering his voice into a growl so deep Rodney gulped and swallowed painfully, Ronon said, "Carson's not your problem, McKay. He's mine."
An impromptu meeting of the department heads was hastily convened after Rodney sputtered through an explanation of what happened to Sheppard. Dex hadn't gone beyond grabbing McKay in the mess hall, and at John's persistent questioning, Rodney had to admit he had riled the other man.
"Bottom line this for me. Is Ronon a danger to us?" It was a question Elizabeth dreaded asking, but the fallen faces on the men around her proved they were all wondering the same thing.
"I wish I knew," John began, "Ronon's never been a threat to us, and I'm not ready to slap that label on him just yet. Yeah, he's more tense than usual, but we have an idea what's causing it. Right, doc?"
Beckett wanted to shrink away from the searching eyes of his colleagues.
"The initial blood tests didn't show any foreign organisms in Ronon's blood, but we did notice a spike in his testosterone levels, for which we performed further tests," he replied, not meeting anyone's eyes.
Carson passed his bandaged hand over his face and rubbed absently at the stubble on his chin.
"As you know, testosterone is a steroid hormone from the androgen group. In men and women, the hormone is important for good health. In normal doses, it affects sexual desire, increases energy, and boosts immune functions in the body."
"It also causes aggression," John said sullenly.
"Aye, that's partly true," Carson agreed. "In Ronon's case, it seems the animal he encountered introduced something into his body that acts on testosterone, slowly increasing the levels in a human subject."
"Great. Are you telling us Ronon's a 15-year-old boy again?" Rodney asked in a huff.
"Not exactly, Rodney. I'm saying Ronon's internal chemistry is acting like an athlete who's taking steroid injections," Beckett said. "The levels are increasing and from what we can simulate in the lab, the hormone will reach a critical mass at some point."
"And what happens then, Carson?" Weir asked, clearly not liking where the conversation was leading.
"I honestly don't know, Elizabeth. It's highly debatable how high levels of testosterone affect behavior," he shrugged. "I've seen some research that attributed high levels of testosterone to criminal tendencies, and still others that said it's dependent on the individual."
"Doc, I gotta know if I need to lock him in the brig before he hurts someone, or just give him some space until this whatever it is runs its course," John said, leaning closer to the meeting table and locking serious eyes with the Scotsman's.
"We'll keep running tests, but for now, I recommend we limit his gate travel and try to keep him relatively calm."
Rodney snorted. "How do you expect us to manage that? The man runs five miles each morning for breakfast, beats up Marines for lunch, and usually takes down half a Hive ship for dinner!"
"Just try not to upset him, Rodney," Carson almost spat the words. He was still angry McKay confronted Ronon the way he had.
"All right, we pass the word that no one is to excite Ronon until Carson and the other doctors have a cure for his condition, or it runs its course," Elizabeth said before dismissing the group.
Carson left the meeting quietly, passing through corridors lost in a mental. Testosterone overdose seemed like the dumbest medical emergency he'd ever heard. Only something equally stupid, like a woman dying from makeup poisoning, even came close in his opinion. But he was a medical doctor and Ronon's symptoms seemed to match everything his team had uncovered about the hormone's darker aspects. It was unfair - to Dex and to him - that this should occur now at the tender beginning of their possible relationship.
"Doc?"
Beckett whirled around and stared blankly into the face of the man he desired most in the Pegasus Galaxy.
"Ronon! Ye surprised me," he said, managing a weak smile.
"Yeah, sorry."
"No, no. No need to apologize," Carson stammered. "I was just thinking about ye."
"Yeah?"
"Aye," Carson willed himself to smile more naturally. "Feeling better?"
"The leg's good," Ronon replied. He tilted his head and studied the doctor's face. "Something on your mind?"
Oh, ye know, the usual stuff like how can I keep ye from hurting anyone, Carson thought, then shook his head to banish the thought. Ronon didn't deserve me or anyone else thinking so badly of him.
"Aye, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me later. I could use a change of scenery from the mess hall. It can get so noisy in there at times."
Ronon's eyes widened in surprise. "Alone?"
"Yes, I ...I thought we could make it a private meal for the two of us," Carson added, his face burning with embarrassment. He'd never been so forward with anyone, but Ronon was worth the discomfort. "If you're up to it. I could make us something simple, but edible."
"Why?"
The question caught Carson off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Why do you want to have dinner alone with me?" Ronon asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He let his eyes fall on Carson's bandaged hand and raised an eyebrow.
"I thought a quiet dinner between ...friends might allow us some time to chat a wee bit," Carson stammered slightly, trying hard not to hide his hand behind his back. "I'd ...like to get to know ye better ...if that's all right."
A nod was Beckett's only answer.
"So, I'll see ye at seven then? My quarters?"
"Yeah, I'll be there," Ronon grinned before turning around and walking down the hall.
When he was out of range, Carson let out the breath he'd held and waited for his heartbeat to slow down. Where he'd found the courage to ask Ronon on a date was baffling, but he was secretly thrilled the other man had accepted.
If anything would keep Ronon happy, it would be a tasty meal and some pleasant conversation. Maybe they'd get a chance to rekindle some of the romance from the other day.
Aye, this is just what we need, lad, Carson thought. Good food and good company will set ye right as rain.
Beckett said a silent prayer and walked to the nearest transporter. He had preparations to make.
It wasn't difficult to scrounge up the makings of a great meal from the mess hall. The cook, a lovely lady who reminded Carson of his dear Aunt Gertie, clucked over him as she picked the best fruits, vegetables, and meat from the kitchen. When she learned what the Scotsman was up to - dinner with a friend - the sweet lady had insisted on preparing the meal for him. He'd protested, but like Aunt Gertie, she held firm until he gave in with a dimpled smile.
Their meal secured, Carson set himself to arranging his quarters into the most relaxing setting possible. Teyla had provided candles of varying scents and sizes. When lit, the room took on the romantic charm of a warm sunset. Carson inhaled the sweet aromas and felt calm and at peace. He hoped it had the same affect on his date.
A quick shower and shave later, Beckett was strumming with excitement. He had a date with Ronon! Carson rummaged through his closet, searching for the most appropriate outfit for the occasion. He didn't have much here in Atlantis, but his non-uniform clothes weren't a complete loss. Donning soft khakis and a cream-colored button-down shirt, he surveyed himself in the bathroom mirror. A few strokes with his comb and he thought he looked dashing.
"You're a right handsome bugger, Carson Beckett," he told himself then laughed aloud.
The door to his room chimed then. Taking one last look in the mirror to wipe the silly anticipation from his face and replace it with friendly calm, Carson strolled out of the bathroom and opened the door.
Carson's smile disappeared when his lower jaw dropped open at the sight of Ronon standing in front of him. Dex had obviously taken the evening for what Carson hoped he would - a date. Ronon's dreadlocks were pulled back neatly from his face and held with a black cord. Gone were the soldier's gun and knives - well, the ones Carson normally saw hanging from his belt anyway. Ronon's shirt and trousers were of Athosian design, soft cotton and strips of leather woven skillfully together. They accented the swell of muscles under Ronon's skin, causing Carson to draw in a ragged breath.
"You gonna let me in?"
"Oh, aye," Carson stumbled aside as Dex brushed passed him. He watched as Ronon studied the room.
"Dinner's ready, if you'd like to eat now," Carson said, finally remembering his manners. "Or we could have tea first. Whatever you'd like."
Ronon breathed in the sweet fragrance of the candles and knew they came from Teyla. A hint of spices and flowers, the same scent that flowed over her skin and hair, was in the room. Carson waited anxiously as Ronon walked over to him, leaned in, and breathed deeply.
Soap and musk. Shaving cream and hair gel. Anti-septic and bandages. Ronon liked Carson's scent better.
"Is ...is everything all right, lad?"
"You smell good."
Ronon leaned closer, nuzzling Carson's neck as he continued breathing in the familiar smell of the Scotsman. It was a good smell. A masculine smell.
"Oh, God ..." Carson's voice caught as Ronon's arms enveloped his waist. His cock swelled and somewhere deep in his mind, he felt his resolve cracking.
"I want you," Ronon whispered into the nape of Carson's neck.
His feet moved, but Carson wasn't sure if he was walking of his own accord or being dragged bodily to his bed. Ronon was a giant wall of muscle, and even if he wanted to, Carson knew he wouldn't be able to slow the other man's momentum. But, sadly, he had to try.
"Ronon, I think we should take a moment ...to ...to ...Christ!" Ronon bit into Carson shoulder sending sparks of desire into the doctor's groin. Carson rocked his hips forward, desperate for any friction he could find.
"I'm going to fuck you," Ronon said, his voice heavy with intent.
Carson could only moan. He'd wanted Ronon for so long. He didn't give a damn about dinner, or making small talk. Ronon wanted him! And if the blood swelling his cock was any indication, Carson wanted Ronon equally as much.
Dex thrust himself into Carson's hip causing both men to moan loudly. It was better than good. Ronon set the pace, a slow torture that caused them to pant and sweat with need. Carson's eyes grew dark as lust and adrenaline coursed through his body. Ronon groped him and pulled, licked and sucked wherever his mouth landing. Carson bit into Ronon's shoulder and held on. They were humping each other furiously, lost like dogs in heat.
Ronon's mouth covered Carson's, heavy and demanding. Beckett groaned as Dex's exploring hands closed over the bulge between his legs. They were both fully clothed but Carson was sure he could feel Ronon's skin burn through his khakis and boxers. They were both close, Carson could tell from the growls slipping from Ronon's throat.
"You're mine," it was a statement, not a question, Carson knew. Ronon planned to claim him. And that ...that was just ...
"Ah Hell ..." realization spread like a cold wave over Carson. He lay still as Ronon's hands began to tug at his pants. "Oh, sweet Heaven, what have I done?"
Ronon stilled. "What's wrong?"
Carson was supposed to keep Ronon calm, not fan the hormone already overloading his system. And fucking would certainly push Dex's testosterone levels into orbit. No matter how badly Carson wanted Ronon to fuck him through the floor, the man was not himself.
"I'm so sorry, love, but we need to stop now," Carson stroked Ronon's back lightly.
Ronon didn't move. Carson was pinned underneath him, their hard cocks pressed painfully into their hips.
"No," Ronon said as he rubbed his dick against Beckett's thigh. "I'm not done with you yet."
A small cry escaped Carson's lips as Ronon thrust down hard onto his swollen cock. It was both bliss and misery. This couldn't happen. Carson couldn't let it happen. But he didn't know how to stop it, either.
"Ronon, please," he pleaded through gasps. "Ye need to stop. Now. Please stop."
Carson felt large hands dig into his hips before Ronon's heavy weight left him. The doctor watched as Ronon stood over the bed, glaring down at him. Before he lost his nerve, Carson rolled off the bed and stood in front of Ronon.
"I'm ...I'm sorry," he began, but Dex's glare silenced him.
"This a game to you, Doc?" Ronon asked, anger flaring behind his hazel eyes.
"What? Oh, God no! Never," Carson stammered. "We just can't ...right now. You're not well, and I ..."
Ronon took a step forward and Beckett retreated a step back. "You think I'm sick?"
Carson watched the muscles of Ronon's jaw clench. "Ye haven't been yourself lately, love. We're all worried about ye, that's all."
"We?"
"Aye, your friends. Everyone here who cares about ye," Carson supplied quickly.
"So why invite me here?" Ronon's arm swept around the room. "Why this?"
"I ...I'd thought ...perhaps you'd enjoy having dinner with me," Carson tried hard to smile, but failed miserably. "I wanted us to get to know each other better."
"I don't want to know you better, Doc," Ronon leered back. "I want to fuck you."
Normally Carson would have been flattered and incredibly turned on by part of that admission. But before he could wrap his head around a response, Ronon grabbed him roughly by the throat and shoved him hard into a nearby wall. Stars spun and his back ached painfully as Ronon held him immobile.
Panic flared behind Beckett's eyes as Ronon's free hand deftly undid his trousers and yanked them down. Carson wheezed, struggling against the arm that pinned him, and shook violently as Ronon roughly cupped his balls through his boxers.
This bloody well isnae happening! Carson's lungs burned as he struggled to inhale oxygen. His brain sent waves of emergency signals through him, launching nerve endings into a frantic, all-out fight for freedom. With everything he had left, he brought up his leg and kneed Dex in the crotch.
Ronon's arm relaxed its grip on Carson as the larger man doubled over. Carson shoved at his down-turned shoulders, finally freeing himself. All his senses were alive, his body twitching from a surge of adrenaline. Get this under control, Carson screamed in his head. But all he could do was take in ragged gulps of air, his abused throat coughing as much as inhaling at this point. He tugged his pants back up and zipped the front closed.
The action cost him. Pain, like nothing he could imagine, slammed into his jaw. The force sent Carson literally flying across the room. He landed on the dining table, sending dishes, cutlery, food and drinks splattering in all directions. Carson groaned as the table buckled under him and he fell to the floor.
He lay there, among the ruin, when Ronon hovered over him. Carson saw four Satedans, his vision unable to focus on any one thing. Pain reigned in every limb, every inch of his body hurt. And above him, his tormentor - his love - watched it all. Dull, hazel eyes stared into frightened blue ones, neither man uttering a word for long moments.
Finally, Ronon reached down and touched Carson's bloodied mouth. Carson flinched, his body tensing as he tried to pull himself into a fetal position. But Ronon didn't hit him again. Instead he leaned down and scooped Carson's body into his arms. Then Beckett felt the softness of his mattress under his back and fear shot through him as he realized he was on the bed again. His heart hammered in his chest. He was defenseless, battered, and terrified.
And he was at Ronon's mercy. Oh, God, not this, he pleaded silently. Tears fell from Carson's eyes as he waited for the only possible conclusion to an evening that had gone so horribly wrong. His body would survive it, he tried to tell himself, but his heart would die.
The bed groaned as Ronon stood up. Carson's attacker studied him as the doctor shrank into himself, waiting with dull eyes for Ronon to make the next move.
"Don't make me hurt you again," Dex growled.
A whimper from Carson made Ronon frown. Ronon had wanted to claim him, but resisting Dex while one of the most powerful natural drugs coursed through his system was a bad idea.
Carson trembled pathetically on the bed, but still Ronon didn't move. What was he waiting for? Carson didn't dare speak or open his eyes. He didn't want to see this Ronon. Carson didn't want to watch him remove his clothes, or feel Ronon bury his cock roughly into him. Carson didn't want to scream from the pain of being ripped apart by a stranger. So he curled deeper into himself and waited.
But nothing happened. Ronon hadn't moved. Ronon hadn't touched him again.
Willing himself to get a grip, Carson slowly opened his eyes. Ronon was gone.
A/N: Some of the medical information on testosterone was borrowed from Wikipedia.