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kathierif_ficTitle: One Ring To Bind Them
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Evan Lorne/John Sheppard/Ronon Dex
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: hints of threesome, slavery, slash
Word Count: 760
Summary: It’s just a collar. Just a piece of leather with a decorative buckle and a ring to loop a leash through, but it is so much more at the same time.
Author’s Notes: Written for![[community profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo, for the free space, in this case: collars.
A collar, he thinks while looking at his reflection in the mirror, what is that? Is it just the material, slung tightly around his throat? It doesn’t even have to be leather, but in Pegasus galaxy, even some of the poorest people, decimated by the Wraith again and again, until almost nobody is left, have at least one person who can work the leather, form boots and clothes and collars, for animals and for people alike, rough strips of chafing leather or soft pieces of art that rest like warm against a throat, trusting the goodwill of the wearer not wanting to remove it and to escape rather than binding force.
The collar tat rests against his throat right now, still unbuckled and loose, is just that: the thought of control and domination, turned into soft leather and fine artwork, doubling at a clasp that holds the circle complete and keeps the ring of control around his neck.
One ring to bind them, he thinks, to cast them into submission and obedience, but also to protect them from others – a sign of ownership, hanging from him like a tag.
Like his dog tags, and aren’t those a sign of ownership as well, in a way? A sign telling everyone who sees them where he belongs, whom he belongs to? And if both are signs of ownership – isn’t he serving two masters then, voluntarily giving up his free will and handing himself over into their care, hoping and trusting that he has done the right thing, no matter what others might think about it?
About his voluntary slavery? Because it is voluntarily. He can take the collar off whenever he wants, and the same goes for his dog tags, not to mention that he was asked and he agreed to wear both, but the thing is: it doesn’t matter what he takes off and puts on, it won’t change him, and it won’t change who he is and who he wants and strives to be.
It’s just a collar. Just a piece of leather with a decorative buckle and a ring to loop a leash through, but it is so much more at the same time.
The collar is not the one ring that binds him. That ring is inside him, in his heart and soul and mind, in every single cell of his body, programmed into his very core, just like the ATA-gene. It is who he is.
He is the ring. He is submitting and serving two masters, hoping and trusting that their orders are not too contradicting, not trying to pull him too much in two completely different directions, because he is a good little submissive and wants to follow each and every order he is given by his masters.
The collar, the dog tags?
They are just for everybody else; for those who can’t look into his soul like his masters can and see that submission in him as clearly as they do.
He is here because he wants to be here.
He does this because he wants to.
Nobody needs to force him into this role, because he steps in it voluntarily, with his eyes open and the ring that binds him in him closed tight across his heart and his soul and his mind.
He straightens and grins slightly at his reflection before he reaches up and tightens the dark leather against the pale length of his throat. It is a good collar, soft and not chafing, a good choice by his master.
He tugs his t-shirt down slightly and glances at the man standing next to him. A similar collar is around his throat, a contemplative expression on his face as he turns toward Evan and raises both eyebrows in a silent question.
Evan gives him a smile in return and tilts his head toward the door invitingly.
Their master is waiting, and they both know how impatient he can be sometimes, and neither of them wants to know what, besides the collars, Ronon brought back for them from the market.
Collars that are just a decorative outside sign of their devotion and love – and the one way how Ronon can bring both of them safely off this planet and back home, to Atlantis, where their other master, the USAF, will take the control over their lives back.
“Let’s go,” John murmurs quietly, and Evan answers with a whispered “Yes, sir.”
One ring to bind them, and no escape possible.
But it’s okay.
They do this voluntarily, and nobody is forcing them into it.
~end.
Author:
kathierif_ficFandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Evan Lorne/John Sheppard/Ronon Dex
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Warnings: hints of threesome, slavery, slash
Word Count: 760
Summary: It’s just a collar. Just a piece of leather with a decorative buckle and a ring to loop a leash through, but it is so much more at the same time.
Author’s Notes: Written for
kink_bingo, for the free space, in this case: collars. A collar, he thinks while looking at his reflection in the mirror, what is that? Is it just the material, slung tightly around his throat? It doesn’t even have to be leather, but in Pegasus galaxy, even some of the poorest people, decimated by the Wraith again and again, until almost nobody is left, have at least one person who can work the leather, form boots and clothes and collars, for animals and for people alike, rough strips of chafing leather or soft pieces of art that rest like warm against a throat, trusting the goodwill of the wearer not wanting to remove it and to escape rather than binding force.
The collar tat rests against his throat right now, still unbuckled and loose, is just that: the thought of control and domination, turned into soft leather and fine artwork, doubling at a clasp that holds the circle complete and keeps the ring of control around his neck.
One ring to bind them, he thinks, to cast them into submission and obedience, but also to protect them from others – a sign of ownership, hanging from him like a tag.
Like his dog tags, and aren’t those a sign of ownership as well, in a way? A sign telling everyone who sees them where he belongs, whom he belongs to? And if both are signs of ownership – isn’t he serving two masters then, voluntarily giving up his free will and handing himself over into their care, hoping and trusting that he has done the right thing, no matter what others might think about it?
About his voluntary slavery? Because it is voluntarily. He can take the collar off whenever he wants, and the same goes for his dog tags, not to mention that he was asked and he agreed to wear both, but the thing is: it doesn’t matter what he takes off and puts on, it won’t change him, and it won’t change who he is and who he wants and strives to be.
It’s just a collar. Just a piece of leather with a decorative buckle and a ring to loop a leash through, but it is so much more at the same time.
The collar is not the one ring that binds him. That ring is inside him, in his heart and soul and mind, in every single cell of his body, programmed into his very core, just like the ATA-gene. It is who he is.
He is the ring. He is submitting and serving two masters, hoping and trusting that their orders are not too contradicting, not trying to pull him too much in two completely different directions, because he is a good little submissive and wants to follow each and every order he is given by his masters.
The collar, the dog tags?
They are just for everybody else; for those who can’t look into his soul like his masters can and see that submission in him as clearly as they do.
He is here because he wants to be here.
He does this because he wants to.
Nobody needs to force him into this role, because he steps in it voluntarily, with his eyes open and the ring that binds him in him closed tight across his heart and his soul and his mind.
He straightens and grins slightly at his reflection before he reaches up and tightens the dark leather against the pale length of his throat. It is a good collar, soft and not chafing, a good choice by his master.
He tugs his t-shirt down slightly and glances at the man standing next to him. A similar collar is around his throat, a contemplative expression on his face as he turns toward Evan and raises both eyebrows in a silent question.
Evan gives him a smile in return and tilts his head toward the door invitingly.
Their master is waiting, and they both know how impatient he can be sometimes, and neither of them wants to know what, besides the collars, Ronon brought back for them from the market.
Collars that are just a decorative outside sign of their devotion and love – and the one way how Ronon can bring both of them safely off this planet and back home, to Atlantis, where their other master, the USAF, will take the control over their lives back.
“Let’s go,” John murmurs quietly, and Evan answers with a whispered “Yes, sir.”
One ring to bind them, and no escape possible.
But it’s okay.
They do this voluntarily, and nobody is forcing them into it.
~end.