There had been moments during his years running that he had missed it so
much he had wanted to kill a Wraith just because of that. Then he
remembered everything else they had taken away from him and buried that
frustration into his larger anger.
It didn't made it less true that he had been... deprived during all
Atlantis and it's people offered everything this particular need of his
might require, and more. He surprised himself by waiting until late at
night to satisfy it, thankful that the running had not only deepened his
need, but also sharpened his self-control.
Tomorrow, that self-control might still save his life, or a friend's.
But right now he didn't need to control himself. His bed offered the
comfort he had all but forgotten during the years, and, lying on it,
there was the willing promise of much deeper pleasure.
Ronon took his shirt off with a noticeable edge of hurry, settled on his
bed with an expression of anticipated delight, and opened the book.