FANDOM: Stargate Atlantis
THEME: Physical Intimacy: Penetration
Teyla closed the doors behind her, letting her fingers rest on the smooth panelling as she faced John.
She did not know what to say, and he seemed to be waiting for her to speak. Speech was easy by day, with the city busy around them, the sun and wind on their faces, their team-mates nearby.
In the crisp shadows, words were more difficult to say and movement was impossible. The desire that had brought her this far was gone, leaving her caught between his expression and the door - leaving him caught between hope and disbelief.
His voice prompted her to take one step. Then another and another, until she stood beside his bed.
"I'm guessing this isn't a social call, then?" His voice was husky but his words were light, trying to make a joke of her presence, here in his room.
She traced the line of his jaw with her fingers, flush with heat and tenderness. "No," she said, her own voice sounding strange to her ears. "This is not a social call."
Mouth touched mouth, tentative at first, then with greater passion as she allowed her desire to run free. He made no demur as she pushed him down into the sheets, but his hands were eager on her skin as their lips met and melded.
Since the night of the Mazanian hunt, Teyla's dreams were all the more urgent for the distance she tried to keep between them.
There was no distance now.
John tasted and suckled and touched and ached.
He asked no questions, too afraid of the answers.
She'd been careful since the Mazanian mating hunt - too careful. He'd resigned himself to living at arm's length, to wrecking one more good thing in his life.
Tonight, she came to him.
She laid a finger against his lips as she slid onto him, as hot and wet as any fantasy he'd ever allowed himself. John always liked the moment after penetration; the ache of wanting to move balanced against the need to savour the intimacy, the flex of wet muscle and the caress of panting skin.
And then she thrust down on him.
John's world narrowed down to her body and the bed, the way she felt, the sound of her, the way she made him feel - like a man who didn't need to be a hero, every thrust and groan and touch utterly glorious until she cried out in pulsing orgasm, and John followed after.
Later, she drowsed beside him, and he spooned up against her, closing the gap between them with an eagerness that was almost pathetic.
Ronon had been right; John liked touching Teyla.
"I should go."
John wrapped an arm around her waist, holding on. "You should stay."
Teyla shifted against him. "John..."
She relaxed beside him and he breathed again.
- fin -