That Time of Night (2) for greenconverses
Title: That Time of Night (Part Two)
Author:
ruby_caspar
Rating: M
Warnings: Sexual content and adult language.
Pairings/ characters: John/Teyla, Ronon, Rodney, Michael.
Word count: 5,121
Summary: AU - One night at Atlantis Bar something snaps inside John.
Recipient:
greenconverses
Notes: Thanks to
azure_horizonfor the beta. Make sure you read Part One (posted below) first.
“Get him out of here,” he told them, coldly. “Now.”
They stared at him for a moment, and then both sprang forward to help Michael up. John turned away from the sight - Rodney was still looking wary and little shocked, as were the patrons in the bar; Ronon was still behind the bar, leaning both hands on the countertop and looking faintly amused. Teyla… Teyla was nowhere to be seen.
John frowned, but pushed his confusion aside as Michael’s buddies started to walk away, supporting him between them. They went quite slowly, and John followed them, glaring at their backs the entire way to the door. They made a quick job of the bolts and disappeared into the night. John shook his head and walked back over to the bar.
Ronon didn’t say anything to him - just placed an icepack wrapped in a hand towel in front of him. John nodded his thanks and pressed it against his injured cheek, wincing at the added pressure. He was gonna have one hell of a bruise.
Ronon placed a shot glass on the bar in front of him and filled it. John didn’t ask what it was - he didn’t care. “Now you’re talking,” he said, and he downed the shot as Rodney appeared next to him.
“You alright?” He asked him.
John nodded and put the glass back down, gesturing for Ronon to refill it. Ronon complied, but as soon as the glass was full Rodney snatched it up and downed it before John could. Predictably, he had a small coughing fit as the alcohol burned down his throat, but he recovered quickly and then glared at Ronon.
“I didn’t see you rushing to help,” he said.
Ronon shrugged. “It looked like John had it covered,” he said.
“I meant helping me pull him off Michael!” Rodney exclaimed.
Ronon just shrugged again, smirking slightly, and John couldn’t help a small smile. Rodney rolled his eyes at them both.
“Well you’re lucky he doesn’t have to go to hospital,” he said to John.
John raised his eyebrows. “No, he’s lucky he doesn’t have to go to hospital,” he said. “Son of a bitch.”
“He was drinking his friends’ drinks,” said Ronon. “I noticed just before he started on Teyla.”
John scowled at the news, and then turned to Rodney. “Where is Teyla?” He asked him.
“Out back,” answered Rodney. “She is royally pissed.”
“I’m not surprised,” said John dryly, images of Michael trying to grope her flashing through his mind again. He lowered the ice pack and looked around the bar - everyone was leaving. The entertainment was over, and so was the drama. John nodded to a couple of people as they left, but most of them avoided looking at him as they scurried out of the door. John rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends.
“You guys should take off,” he told them. “I’ll cash up in the morning.”
“You sure?” Said Ronon.
“Yeah,” said John. “Tell Evan and Jen to leave the bottling up, and lock up behind you - Teyla can go out the back.”
Ronon and Rodney nodded, and John picked up his ice pack again. He pressed it back against his throbbing cheek and walked across the room towards the back door.
Atlantis wasn’t just a bar - it was also John’s home. He lived in an apartment above the bar. The entrance to that apartment was through a smallish room that had been turned into a kind of staff room, and also a dressing room for Teyla when she needed it, and it’s where Rodney said she was. The rage John had felt when he’d seen Michael grab at Teyla had faded now into a kind of residual pissed-off feeling, mostly caused by the pain in his cheek and the thought that Michael’s actions may have unsettled Teyla in any way.
John reached the door and knocked. He waited for an answer but none came - he could hear movement inside though.
John poked his head round the door. The room wasn’t much, really - a large mirror hung on one wall, in front of which stood a table and a chair. There was a small bookcase with second-hand books and two leather sofas in one corner. One door led to the alley outside and another to the apartment upstairs. Teyla was standing by the table against the opposite wall with her back to John, packing make-up back into her bag.
“Hey - you okay?” He asked her, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
“Yes,” came the curt reply. John noticed that Teyla was using more force than was strictly necessary with the items she was handling, and that her shoulders were rigidly set. Rodney was clearly right about her being pissed.
“I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow with his tail between his legs to apologise,” John said. Teyla didn’t reply, but he heard her snort derisively. She kept her back to him, and reached up to yank her earrings out of her lobes, and tossed them haphazardly after her make-up. John raised his eyebrows - she was more annoyed than he’d thought. “I could bar him,” he said after a few moments. He’d very happily bar him if it would appease Teyla.
Teyla stopped packing and finally looked over her shoulder at John. “I do not want you to bar Michael,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. She glared at him for a second and then turned away again, reaching up to undo her necklace.
John went very still as realisation set in. “Wait a minute - are you pissed at me?” Another glare. John strode forward so he was standing next to Teyla, and she turned to face him, her eyes flashing furiously. “What the hell for?” John demanded.
Teyla looked at him incredulously. “What… John, you just beat up one of our most loyal customers!” She exclaimed.
John gaped at her. “I did not beat him up… and he was harassing you!” His hand jogged the icepack against his cheek as he talked, and he pushed it closer to his face, trying to numb the pain away.
Teyla rolled her eyes and turned back to her bag, which she was having difficulty doing up with all the make-up inside it. “He barely touched me,” she said dismissively.
“Yeah, because I stopped him!” John retorted, his hand tightening still further on his icepack.
“You really think he would have done anything?” Teyla asked angrily, pushing her half-closed bag away so it skidded across the tabletop.
Well… but that wasn’t the point. “That’s not the point!” He growled. He couldn’t believe Teyla was taking Michael’s side about this. He had just had to peel a drunk, disruptive customer off of her, and she was actually pissed at him. She actually had the nerve to stand there in front of him, her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed, her hair coming loose and her lips pouting…
Man, she was stunning when she was angry.
“No, the point is that you completely overreacted,” Teyla said loudly, snapping John out of his entirely inappropriate thoughts. She was twisting her arm behind her back, glaring up at him. “Undo me!” She demanded suddenly.
John blinked. “What?”
Teyla spun round. “Undo the back of my dress,” she said, in a tone that sounded more like an accusation than a request.
John stared at Teyla’s back for a few moments, at the creamy chocolate skin visible above the green silk. He saw the zip, hidden in its folds, and his eyes followed it down her back to where it disappeared. Dear lord… what was this woman doing to him? Swallowing hard against the primal instincts raging inside him, John reached out his free hand and took hold of the small zipper. It glided down easily, and the dress fell apart inch by inch as he slowly pulled it down her back. He caught a glimpse of black lace as he reached the end of the zipper and immediately spun around, as much to compose himself without Teyla seeing as to give her some privacy to change her clothes.
He heard the rustle of the silk as it slid down Teyla’s body to the floor, and of her stepping out of it. John knew he would be having some very detailed dreams that night.
To give himself something else to think about, John tried to remember where they’d been in their conversation before the Distraction of The Dress. Ah yes… “I didn’t overreact,” he said.
“Yes you did,” came Teyla’s immediate reply. “He was drunk, but not dangerous.”
“Not dangerous? He punched me first!” John exclaimed.
“You do not think he was provoked?”
Completely forgetting why he was facing away, John spun round to face her again. Luckily, Teyla was already wearing a pair of snug jeans and a white halter-neck top. John took in the new outfit with a glance before speaking. “Are you saying I deserved to get punched?” He demanded.
Teyla leaned back against the table behind her and folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts up and together and making it very obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “No - I am saying that you brought it on yourself with your aggression,” she said, frowning at him.
John’s lust was once again pushed aside by indignation and he took a few steps closer so he was standing right in front of her, looming over her. She tilted her head back and glared up at him defiantly.
“It wasn’t my aggression that started it,” he said bluntly. “And I don’t get why you’re angry at me for trying to protect you -”
“That is just it, John!” Teyla exclaimed. “I do not need protecting!”
“But -”
“I can take care of myself!” Teyla said, her eyes flashing angrily again. She stood up straight and suddenly she was close - too close - but John couldn’t bring himself to step back. Partly because he was too shocked by her outburst, and partly because this still wasn’t close enough.
“You know that I am more than capable of looking after myself,” Teyla said angrily, jabbing John in the chest with her finger. “I do not understand why you acted the way you did tonight!”
Because I couldn’t stand to see him touch you.
John looked away from Teyla, the hand holding the icepack falling to his side, and he sighed. She was right, of course - she could take care of herself, and he knew it. There’d been no need for him to go all Neanderthal on Michael. But he’d seen him trying to touch her and something had just snapped… not that he could tell Teyla that.
Suddenly, with a start, John felt something on his cheek. A moment later, with a thrill that made his hair stand on end, he realised that it was Teyla’s fingers, gently touching the area under his cut. Unable to stop himself, John turned his head back to face her again. She was staring at his cheek, and her look of anger had been replaced with one of tender concern. John’s heart melted at the sight of her, and his stomach clenched and heart sped up at her touch. He knew he had to look away, to step away - she was too close, and it was far too obvious… she would look at him and see how much he wanted her. Because, god, did he want her.
Her eyes met his, as he knew they would, and after a moment they widened with surprise, as he knew they would. She knew - she could see it. What he hadn’t expected was the way her eyes darkened so they were almost black, or the way she licked her full bottom lip as she glanced down at his mouth.
She wanted him too.
All thought of restraint, of how wrong it would be for them to be together, flew out of the window as soon as John saw the look in Teyla’s eyes. The icepack thudded to the floor as John’s hands grasped Teyla’s hips, and Teyla’s other hand came up to rest on his shoulder as John bent his head and claimed Teyla’s lips with his.
Teyla responded immediately, eagerly, and John leant into the kiss, his hands falling off her hips to land flat on the tabletop either side of her, to brace himself as her mouth opened under his and his tongue surged into her mouth. He groaned and Teyla’s arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, and she arched her back, her breasts flattening against his chest. John tilted his head and continued to ravage her mouth with his tongue, meeting hers again and again in a rhythm that was making his blood boil.
Teyla shifted up and back; she was now sitting on the table, and John pushed further forward, angling Teyla back so her shoulders hit the mirror on the wall. He slid one hand up her side and brushed his thumb over the peak of her breast. Teyla let out a high-pitched moan that was like music to John’s ears, and he grinned as he elicited the same sound from her again by sliding his thumb over her once more. Teyla wrapped her legs around his hips and his arousal came into sudden contact with her centre, and it was John’s turn to moan.
One of Teyla’s hands raked into John’s hair, and the other slid down, under John’s jacket, pushing it back from his shoulders. John let go of Teyla to shrug the jacket off, and dragged his lips from Teyla’s as it fell to the floor. He started to kiss his way along her jaw and down her neck. Teyla’s head dropped back and she moaned again, her hands raking back into his hair.
“John…”
John gently nipped at the smooth skin of Teyla’s throat and then kissed his way back up the column of her neck. Her eyes were open and almost black, and they clashed with John’s as he rested his forehead against hers, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head. Their lips met again, soft this time, and John forced himself to not deepen the kiss. This was going so fast… was it too fast?
“John.” Teyla’s voice was just a whisper, the word coming out between kisses, and John swallowed hard, trying to hold onto his rapidly disappearing will power.
“Teyla… we…”
We don’t have to do this.
He couldn’t say it. He tried, but he just couldn’t. Teyla’s hands were in his hair and her legs were round his waist, and the lust pumping through his veins just wouldn’t let him say the words.
One of Teyla’s hands slid out of his hair and along his jaw until her thumb was resting against his lips. John fought the urge to take her thumb in his mouth, and instead just met Teyla’s eyes again, almost undone by their burning intensity.
“So long I…” Teyla said, breathing heavily. “I want you.”
John’s mouth crashed back onto Teyla’s. He pulled her into his arms and stood up straight, taking her with him. Teyla’s words had brought down his last wall, and John was not letting her out of his arms until he knew what it was like to be inside her, to feel her climax around him, to watch her usual composure collapse as he brought her to the brink. He had imagined this so many times - he was going to savour it.
Teyla had other ideas though, and was working at getting his shirt off before he’d even got her to the couch. Her hands ran over his chest as he lowered himself over her; her legs tightened round his hips, grinding her pelvis into his. John gasped into Teyla’s mouth and realised with a thrill that this wasn’t going to be anything like he’d imagined.
Clothes disappeared and skin met skin, lips and hands explored, fingers linked together, breaths mingled. John watched the look on Teyla’s face as he pushed into her, felt her flutter around him as she climaxed, buried his face in her neck as he did the same.
He came down slowly, the leather sticking to his sweaty skin, his eyes closed as he listened to Teyla’s breathing slow down next to him. He had one arm draped across Teyla’s stomach, and eventually he felt her hand slide up and down his arm in long, languid strokes. John opened his eyes.
He rolled onto his side, his head propped up on one hand, staring down at the beauty next to him. He would have been quite happy to stay there like that for the rest of his life. Teyla turned her head towards him - she was so close their noses were almost touching. They smiled at one another, and then Teyla leant forward to place a kiss on his jaw.
John’s eyes widened at the tender gesture, and as she lay back he knew exactly what he needed to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just… couldn’t stand to see him touch you.”
Teyla stared at him silently for a few moments, her face unreadable, and then she leant forward again, this time to kiss him on the lips. John responded as gently as he could; neither of them deepened the kiss or even moved closer to one another. Finally, John felt like Teyla really understood him.
And it was definitely his favourite time of night.
The End
Author:
ruby_caspar
Rating: M
Warnings: Sexual content and adult language.
Pairings/ characters: John/Teyla, Ronon, Rodney, Michael.
Word count: 5,121
Summary: AU - One night at Atlantis Bar something snaps inside John.
Recipient:
greenconverses
Notes: Thanks to
azure_horizonfor the beta. Make sure you read Part One (posted below) first.
“Get him out of here,” he told them, coldly. “Now.”
They stared at him for a moment, and then both sprang forward to help Michael up. John turned away from the sight - Rodney was still looking wary and little shocked, as were the patrons in the bar; Ronon was still behind the bar, leaning both hands on the countertop and looking faintly amused. Teyla… Teyla was nowhere to be seen.
John frowned, but pushed his confusion aside as Michael’s buddies started to walk away, supporting him between them. They went quite slowly, and John followed them, glaring at their backs the entire way to the door. They made a quick job of the bolts and disappeared into the night. John shook his head and walked back over to the bar.
Ronon didn’t say anything to him - just placed an icepack wrapped in a hand towel in front of him. John nodded his thanks and pressed it against his injured cheek, wincing at the added pressure. He was gonna have one hell of a bruise.
Ronon placed a shot glass on the bar in front of him and filled it. John didn’t ask what it was - he didn’t care. “Now you’re talking,” he said, and he downed the shot as Rodney appeared next to him.
“You alright?” He asked him.
John nodded and put the glass back down, gesturing for Ronon to refill it. Ronon complied, but as soon as the glass was full Rodney snatched it up and downed it before John could. Predictably, he had a small coughing fit as the alcohol burned down his throat, but he recovered quickly and then glared at Ronon.
“I didn’t see you rushing to help,” he said.
Ronon shrugged. “It looked like John had it covered,” he said.
“I meant helping me pull him off Michael!” Rodney exclaimed.
Ronon just shrugged again, smirking slightly, and John couldn’t help a small smile. Rodney rolled his eyes at them both.
“Well you’re lucky he doesn’t have to go to hospital,” he said to John.
John raised his eyebrows. “No, he’s lucky he doesn’t have to go to hospital,” he said. “Son of a bitch.”
“He was drinking his friends’ drinks,” said Ronon. “I noticed just before he started on Teyla.”
John scowled at the news, and then turned to Rodney. “Where is Teyla?” He asked him.
“Out back,” answered Rodney. “She is royally pissed.”
“I’m not surprised,” said John dryly, images of Michael trying to grope her flashing through his mind again. He lowered the ice pack and looked around the bar - everyone was leaving. The entertainment was over, and so was the drama. John nodded to a couple of people as they left, but most of them avoided looking at him as they scurried out of the door. John rolled his eyes and turned back to his friends.
“You guys should take off,” he told them. “I’ll cash up in the morning.”
“You sure?” Said Ronon.
“Yeah,” said John. “Tell Evan and Jen to leave the bottling up, and lock up behind you - Teyla can go out the back.”
Ronon and Rodney nodded, and John picked up his ice pack again. He pressed it back against his throbbing cheek and walked across the room towards the back door.
Atlantis wasn’t just a bar - it was also John’s home. He lived in an apartment above the bar. The entrance to that apartment was through a smallish room that had been turned into a kind of staff room, and also a dressing room for Teyla when she needed it, and it’s where Rodney said she was. The rage John had felt when he’d seen Michael grab at Teyla had faded now into a kind of residual pissed-off feeling, mostly caused by the pain in his cheek and the thought that Michael’s actions may have unsettled Teyla in any way.
John reached the door and knocked. He waited for an answer but none came - he could hear movement inside though.
John poked his head round the door. The room wasn’t much, really - a large mirror hung on one wall, in front of which stood a table and a chair. There was a small bookcase with second-hand books and two leather sofas in one corner. One door led to the alley outside and another to the apartment upstairs. Teyla was standing by the table against the opposite wall with her back to John, packing make-up back into her bag.
“Hey - you okay?” He asked her, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
“Yes,” came the curt reply. John noticed that Teyla was using more force than was strictly necessary with the items she was handling, and that her shoulders were rigidly set. Rodney was clearly right about her being pissed.
“I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow with his tail between his legs to apologise,” John said. Teyla didn’t reply, but he heard her snort derisively. She kept her back to him, and reached up to yank her earrings out of her lobes, and tossed them haphazardly after her make-up. John raised his eyebrows - she was more annoyed than he’d thought. “I could bar him,” he said after a few moments. He’d very happily bar him if it would appease Teyla.
Teyla stopped packing and finally looked over her shoulder at John. “I do not want you to bar Michael,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. She glared at him for a second and then turned away again, reaching up to undo her necklace.
John went very still as realisation set in. “Wait a minute - are you pissed at me?” Another glare. John strode forward so he was standing next to Teyla, and she turned to face him, her eyes flashing furiously. “What the hell for?” John demanded.
Teyla looked at him incredulously. “What… John, you just beat up one of our most loyal customers!” She exclaimed.
John gaped at her. “I did not beat him up… and he was harassing you!” His hand jogged the icepack against his cheek as he talked, and he pushed it closer to his face, trying to numb the pain away.
Teyla rolled her eyes and turned back to her bag, which she was having difficulty doing up with all the make-up inside it. “He barely touched me,” she said dismissively.
“Yeah, because I stopped him!” John retorted, his hand tightening still further on his icepack.
“You really think he would have done anything?” Teyla asked angrily, pushing her half-closed bag away so it skidded across the tabletop.
Well… but that wasn’t the point. “That’s not the point!” He growled. He couldn’t believe Teyla was taking Michael’s side about this. He had just had to peel a drunk, disruptive customer off of her, and she was actually pissed at him. She actually had the nerve to stand there in front of him, her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed, her hair coming loose and her lips pouting…
Man, she was stunning when she was angry.
“No, the point is that you completely overreacted,” Teyla said loudly, snapping John out of his entirely inappropriate thoughts. She was twisting her arm behind her back, glaring up at him. “Undo me!” She demanded suddenly.
John blinked. “What?”
Teyla spun round. “Undo the back of my dress,” she said, in a tone that sounded more like an accusation than a request.
John stared at Teyla’s back for a few moments, at the creamy chocolate skin visible above the green silk. He saw the zip, hidden in its folds, and his eyes followed it down her back to where it disappeared. Dear lord… what was this woman doing to him? Swallowing hard against the primal instincts raging inside him, John reached out his free hand and took hold of the small zipper. It glided down easily, and the dress fell apart inch by inch as he slowly pulled it down her back. He caught a glimpse of black lace as he reached the end of the zipper and immediately spun around, as much to compose himself without Teyla seeing as to give her some privacy to change her clothes.
He heard the rustle of the silk as it slid down Teyla’s body to the floor, and of her stepping out of it. John knew he would be having some very detailed dreams that night.
To give himself something else to think about, John tried to remember where they’d been in their conversation before the Distraction of The Dress. Ah yes… “I didn’t overreact,” he said.
“Yes you did,” came Teyla’s immediate reply. “He was drunk, but not dangerous.”
“Not dangerous? He punched me first!” John exclaimed.
“You do not think he was provoked?”
Completely forgetting why he was facing away, John spun round to face her again. Luckily, Teyla was already wearing a pair of snug jeans and a white halter-neck top. John took in the new outfit with a glance before speaking. “Are you saying I deserved to get punched?” He demanded.
Teyla leaned back against the table behind her and folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts up and together and making it very obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “No - I am saying that you brought it on yourself with your aggression,” she said, frowning at him.
John’s lust was once again pushed aside by indignation and he took a few steps closer so he was standing right in front of her, looming over her. She tilted her head back and glared up at him defiantly.
“It wasn’t my aggression that started it,” he said bluntly. “And I don’t get why you’re angry at me for trying to protect you -”
“That is just it, John!” Teyla exclaimed. “I do not need protecting!”
“But -”
“I can take care of myself!” Teyla said, her eyes flashing angrily again. She stood up straight and suddenly she was close - too close - but John couldn’t bring himself to step back. Partly because he was too shocked by her outburst, and partly because this still wasn’t close enough.
“You know that I am more than capable of looking after myself,” Teyla said angrily, jabbing John in the chest with her finger. “I do not understand why you acted the way you did tonight!”
Because I couldn’t stand to see him touch you.
John looked away from Teyla, the hand holding the icepack falling to his side, and he sighed. She was right, of course - she could take care of herself, and he knew it. There’d been no need for him to go all Neanderthal on Michael. But he’d seen him trying to touch her and something had just snapped… not that he could tell Teyla that.
Suddenly, with a start, John felt something on his cheek. A moment later, with a thrill that made his hair stand on end, he realised that it was Teyla’s fingers, gently touching the area under his cut. Unable to stop himself, John turned his head back to face her again. She was staring at his cheek, and her look of anger had been replaced with one of tender concern. John’s heart melted at the sight of her, and his stomach clenched and heart sped up at her touch. He knew he had to look away, to step away - she was too close, and it was far too obvious… she would look at him and see how much he wanted her. Because, god, did he want her.
Her eyes met his, as he knew they would, and after a moment they widened with surprise, as he knew they would. She knew - she could see it. What he hadn’t expected was the way her eyes darkened so they were almost black, or the way she licked her full bottom lip as she glanced down at his mouth.
She wanted him too.
All thought of restraint, of how wrong it would be for them to be together, flew out of the window as soon as John saw the look in Teyla’s eyes. The icepack thudded to the floor as John’s hands grasped Teyla’s hips, and Teyla’s other hand came up to rest on his shoulder as John bent his head and claimed Teyla’s lips with his.
Teyla responded immediately, eagerly, and John leant into the kiss, his hands falling off her hips to land flat on the tabletop either side of her, to brace himself as her mouth opened under his and his tongue surged into her mouth. He groaned and Teyla’s arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, and she arched her back, her breasts flattening against his chest. John tilted his head and continued to ravage her mouth with his tongue, meeting hers again and again in a rhythm that was making his blood boil.
Teyla shifted up and back; she was now sitting on the table, and John pushed further forward, angling Teyla back so her shoulders hit the mirror on the wall. He slid one hand up her side and brushed his thumb over the peak of her breast. Teyla let out a high-pitched moan that was like music to John’s ears, and he grinned as he elicited the same sound from her again by sliding his thumb over her once more. Teyla wrapped her legs around his hips and his arousal came into sudden contact with her centre, and it was John’s turn to moan.
One of Teyla’s hands raked into John’s hair, and the other slid down, under John’s jacket, pushing it back from his shoulders. John let go of Teyla to shrug the jacket off, and dragged his lips from Teyla’s as it fell to the floor. He started to kiss his way along her jaw and down her neck. Teyla’s head dropped back and she moaned again, her hands raking back into his hair.
“John…”
John gently nipped at the smooth skin of Teyla’s throat and then kissed his way back up the column of her neck. Her eyes were open and almost black, and they clashed with John’s as he rested his forehead against hers, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head. Their lips met again, soft this time, and John forced himself to not deepen the kiss. This was going so fast… was it too fast?
“John.” Teyla’s voice was just a whisper, the word coming out between kisses, and John swallowed hard, trying to hold onto his rapidly disappearing will power.
“Teyla… we…”
We don’t have to do this.
He couldn’t say it. He tried, but he just couldn’t. Teyla’s hands were in his hair and her legs were round his waist, and the lust pumping through his veins just wouldn’t let him say the words.
One of Teyla’s hands slid out of his hair and along his jaw until her thumb was resting against his lips. John fought the urge to take her thumb in his mouth, and instead just met Teyla’s eyes again, almost undone by their burning intensity.
“So long I…” Teyla said, breathing heavily. “I want you.”
John’s mouth crashed back onto Teyla’s. He pulled her into his arms and stood up straight, taking her with him. Teyla’s words had brought down his last wall, and John was not letting her out of his arms until he knew what it was like to be inside her, to feel her climax around him, to watch her usual composure collapse as he brought her to the brink. He had imagined this so many times - he was going to savour it.
Teyla had other ideas though, and was working at getting his shirt off before he’d even got her to the couch. Her hands ran over his chest as he lowered himself over her; her legs tightened round his hips, grinding her pelvis into his. John gasped into Teyla’s mouth and realised with a thrill that this wasn’t going to be anything like he’d imagined.
Clothes disappeared and skin met skin, lips and hands explored, fingers linked together, breaths mingled. John watched the look on Teyla’s face as he pushed into her, felt her flutter around him as she climaxed, buried his face in her neck as he did the same.
He came down slowly, the leather sticking to his sweaty skin, his eyes closed as he listened to Teyla’s breathing slow down next to him. He had one arm draped across Teyla’s stomach, and eventually he felt her hand slide up and down his arm in long, languid strokes. John opened his eyes.
He rolled onto his side, his head propped up on one hand, staring down at the beauty next to him. He would have been quite happy to stay there like that for the rest of his life. Teyla turned her head towards him - she was so close their noses were almost touching. They smiled at one another, and then Teyla leant forward to place a kiss on his jaw.
John’s eyes widened at the tender gesture, and as she lay back he knew exactly what he needed to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just… couldn’t stand to see him touch you.”
Teyla stared at him silently for a few moments, her face unreadable, and then she leant forward again, this time to kiss him on the lips. John responded as gently as he could; neither of them deepened the kiss or even moved closer to one another. Finally, John felt like Teyla really understood him.
And it was definitely his favourite time of night.
The End