Sweat by Abi
Title: Sweat
Author: Abi
Rating: Adult Content
Challenge: Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll
Spoilers: Up to the Hive (mid season 2)
Summary: “We agreed that it would be best for all if we no longer relied upon the enzyme.”
Pairing: Teyla/Rodney/Ronon
Author's Notes: Thank you to my betas chimosa, fashes, kitkat3979, lemonbella and rosewildeirish and anyone I may have forgetten should shoot me.
“Ronon, you must stop this foolish behavior,” Teyla admonishes as the door to his room slides shut.
Ronon holds the needle fresh from the vein in his arm, tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow with a playful smile on his face she fights hard not to respond to. “Want some?”
“We agreed that it would be best for all if we no longer relied upon the enzyme.”
“You and the doctor agreed,” he growls, body practically vibrating. “No one asked me.”
“Do you not remember what happened to Lieutenant Ford and his men?” She shudders at the memory of Aiden so completely changed, so completely lost to the effects of the enzyme. She shudders again as Ronon takes the leather thong tied around his bicep between his teeth and pulls it free. He flexes his arm, clenches and releases his fist and hops up from the floor.
“They were greedy,” he says as he prowls toward her. “They took too much. But Ford was right. It works. You know it and I know it.”
Teyla looks away, unable to argue, but Ronon looms over her, grabs her face with a warm hand and tilts it up to his. She meets his eye, feels the heat of his breath as he speaks.
“It's worth it.”
“Will it be worth it when the others learn what you have been doing? Do you think that they will be as understanding as I am?” Teyla stares up at Ronon, meets his eyes defiantly and he drops his hand. “Dr. McKay has already noticed something is different. Have you not seen the way he watches you, now, as if he is trying to solve a puzzle? It is only a matter of time before he discovers what you are doing. Do you think that he will hesitate to tell Colonel Sheppard when he realizes what it is, as he will no doubt soon?”
“I can handle McKay,” Ronon says as he turns away from her. She grabs his arm and jerks him back to face her.
“If you harm him, I will not be understanding.” She says it slowly, sharp and flat so that he will not mistake her meaning. She will kill him if anything happens to Rodney and she knows it. He knows it now, too.
“I can handle it,” he says softly, meeting her eyes.
She searches them for a moment, then nods once and breaks away. “Gather your things, we leave in an hour.”
“Sure you don't want some?”
The red fluid inside the thin glass chamber clings to the sides as the needle rolls on Ronon's palm. She can smell it in the air, has smelled it for weeks on Ronon's sweat before deciding to confront him, feels a hunger in her veins for just one dose.
She shakes her head and steps through the door.
“One hour, Ronon.”
A tiny pin prick of blood dried almost black mars the perfect skin of Ronon's forearm just over the thick vein. She wants to wipe it away so that she does not have to think of it. His reflexes are not so much faster, his strikes not so much harder, his coordination not so superior that Colonel Sheppard would notice as he watches them spar, but Teyla knows.
Their skin is slick with sweat by the time Ronon pins her to the mat, his hand around her throat, his knee wedged between her thighs, the scent filling the air. He smells good, smells like the enzyme, smells like strength and sex and Wraith and that scares her more than anything else. The heat of his body on hers is almost oppressive, but she aches for it, wants to arch up, to grind into him, press the naked skin of her stomach against his, lick the sweat from his throat, but Colonel Sheppard is watching.
She inhales deeply and does not follow Ronon to his room.
Her ankle hurts. Her concentration is not what it should be and she is paying the price. One of the first lessons her father taught her as a child was to mind her footing, to be aware of every step, every sound she makes. She has not slipped in her memory and yet today she slipped from a stone into the river as she crossed. She is wet and the fabric of the uniform of Atlantis clings to her chest, chafes the skin beneath and rubs rough at her thighs painfully as she runs.
The audible pop as her ankle gives out surprises her and she thinks she has never felt anything quite like it as she falls for the second time that day. Ronon scoops her up before she touches the grass and tosses her over his shoulder. In part of her mind she can hear Dr. McKay yelling something and Colonel Sheppard responding but her focus is narrowing to the rhythm of Ronon's feet pounding into the ground as he runs, his coarse hair tickling her face, the heat of him, the smell of him. This close the scent of the enzyme swimming in the ripe scent of man leaves her flushed and dizzy.
Her face brushes the sweat-damp skin of his neck as he swings her down to the gurney waiting for them in the gate room and she almost wishes that she had thought to open her mouth and taste on the way down.
Lingering at the entrance to the corridor leading to Ronon's room could easily be attributed to her injury. If anyone asks she will say that she stopped because she is in pain, that she needs only a moment to rest before walking the short distance to her own quarters. It would not be a lie. She is in pain. She stands slowly, intending to return to her bed to take her rest, the rest she promised Doctor Beckett. She pushes herself from the wall and hesitates.
“You coming?” Ronon asks from a pace behind her, startling her.
“I... I do not wish to impose upon your time to rest.”
“All we do here is rest. Makes us soft. Makes us forget how to run.” Teyla doesn't know if he is referring to himself or her, or maybe both. She bows her head in response, almost a nod and follows him.
Ronon unbuckles the cuffs at his wrists and tosses them on the bed, sprawls beside them. He pulls a long, slender vial from somewhere inside one cuff and presses it into the butt of a fine gage needle from the other. He wraps the leather thong from his hair high around his arm. Teyla watches transfixed as the metal of the needle disappears into the soft flesh just above the crease of his elbow, watches the expression on his face as the red fluid disappears, watches his thighs relax and spread as his tension disappears and she wants.
He smiles at her almost lazy like Colonel Sheppard, almost predatory like the Wraith, jerks the needle from his arm, pulls the empty vial from the body of the needle with his teeth and loads a second. When he offers it to her, she reaches out for it, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her down on top of him and caresses her arm just where the needle slipped into his with his thumb.
“No, Ronon, what are you doing?” she asks, fighting against the cage of his arms tightening around her. “I do not wish to be with you in this way!”
His hips relax and roll beneath her as he releases his arm, dropping it to rest loose below her waist. She can feel his arousal. She pushes herself up, hands planted on his chest and meets his eyes as she rises from the bed. “It cannot be as it was before. We were nothing more than animals in the caves. The Wraith think that we are nothing but mindless chattel to feed upon and I will not let them make me so. I do not wish to rut fruitlessly with you or any other man.”
“I am not an animal,” Ronon growls. He opens his palm in offering.
“Then do not treat me like one again,” she says and snatches the needle from his hand.
She can see him rubbing the bulge in his pants as she limps away.
Teyla knows that the doctor, no, all of the Atlantians, disapprove of the enzyme. She can't blame them after looking into Aiden's mangled face, his mad, empty eyes, but that is all they can see. They don't see the strength, the added agility that they need to fight the Wraith. She knows what too much will do to her, but she also knows what just enough will feel like. She sighs as she slides the needle into her thigh.
The enzyme in her veins again is like sex, makes her pulse race and body throb and her mind revert to her baser instincts. She wants to fuck and she can't decide if she's glad she left Ronon before she injected herself or not. It would feel so good to have a hard body to rub against right now and Ronon is hard in ways no one else is. Her feet find their way back before her mind has made a decision.
Ronon is naked from the waist up, arms spread wide, bracing him on either side of the door as it opens.
“You here to fight or fuck?” he asks with a predatory leer. His head snaps to the side as her fist connects with his jaw.
“Fight,” she snarls, falling back into a fighting stance, though that wasn't what she came for at all.
Ronon just licks the blood from his lip and smiles.
“Should you be walking around already?” Rodney asks. “Carson is remarkably callous about pain, I mean he probably didn't even give you the good drugs, but I don't think he'd actually want you to hurt yourself.
“I certainly could use an extra day or two in my lab if you need to put off the mission. Life saving insight we could be missing out on here and all that,” he says with a wave of his hands she finds endearing. “I'm sure the Colonel would understand.”
“I am fine, Rodney.” Teyla smiles at Rodney and inclines her head as she checks the fastenings for her weapons. She wants to touch his arm to reassure him, but that will only leave him flustered. “The injury was not as serious as we feared. All is well.”
“Are you sure? It looked pretty damn serious when Ronon had to carry you to the gate like a sack of potatoes while we were all running for our lives. I have a bad back; I could be permanently disabled trying to do that, so don't count on me dragging you back home if it happens again.”
Teyla raises an eyebrow and attempts to hide her indulgent smile. “Thank you for your concern, Doctor.”
“You know, McKay, it's your sensitive, caring nature that really makes the women fall at your feet,” Colonel Sheppard drawls as he walks into the room followed by Ronon who looks at her with a raised eyebrow, then turns his gaze toward Rodney. “Everybody ready to go?”
“Why does everyone want to chase us? Are we wearing eau de Throw Rocks at Me?” Rodney whines as he stumbles through the woods loud enough to make Teyla cringe.
“I think it's your charming personality, McKay.” John says jovially, mostly, Teyla knows, to keep Rodney calm. They can all hear the natives chasing them with torches and rocks larger than Teyla cares to be hit with, even with the enzyme flooding her veins.
“Me?! Oh no, not this time. This time it's all you and your charm that got us into this, you and your roving eyes and your flirting with every pretty girl and expecting them to fall at your feet. They liked me before you debauched the chieftain's daughter.”
“There was no debauching! She was naked when I got there!”
“Uh huh. Why can't we go to a planet where tall, blonde women appear naked out of thin air in my room for a change?”
The whine of a Wraith dart cuts short their bickering. Teyla see the white light dragging through the forest behind them. She doesn't think, just grabs Rodney's arm to pull him away from the path. She runs and he follows as quickly as he can, far more gracefully than when they first began their missions together, but it is still not enough. They fall into the underbrush together. Teyla twists them so that she lands on top, covering him, protecting him as she could not were she pinned beneath him.
They land with an ooomph and though she expects him to begin a litany of complaints, he remains silent with her laid out on top of him. Her hair hangs down around his face like a curtain, a few of the copper strands stuck to his mouth. He licks his lips and looks up at her. Teyla can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest against her palms. Rodney is warm and solid beneath her and for a moment she forgets everything else.
Then Rodney smells her.
It breaks the spell and tension snaps through her body. Rodney groans and knocks his head back in the the ground. Two twigs break. She is breathless waiting for him to condemn her. She knows he can smell the enzyme on her this close, how could he not? How long will he wait to tell Colonel Sheppard? How long before the questioning begins?
The censure that comes is not the one she expects.
“You smell like Ronon,” Rodney groans softly. He pulls her back to him and buries his nose in her throat, his fingers wrapped in her hair and breathes deep. “God, you smell just like him. You're fucking him and all I can think is that I want to lick you. Do you get a buzz when your skin touches? Do you feel more alive when he comes inside you? Do you get jittery waiting to see him? Do you crave his cum in your mouth the way I do?”
Abruptly Teyla understands how Ronon has managed to stop Rodney from reporting them. A sick feeling slams into her stomach like a fist.
“Ronon and I share a bond, it is true,” she begins, a shiver running through her body from where Rodney nuzzles her. She wants to do a hundred things that she will never let herself do, but she indulges herself for a moment, pressing their foreheads together. Their lips brush as she speaks. “But it is not that bond.”
“I'm not stupid, you know. He's, god, he so hot I can barely stop myself from licking him in public and I can't tell you how many times when I met you I wanted to, well, never mind,” Rodney's hands loosen in her hair and fall away to the ground. He sighs, his body relaxes in a strangely tense way and his eyes fall closed. “But you are practically bookends when it comes to hotness. Of course he's sleeping with you.”
“The only bed he shares is yours,” she promises, another burden Ronon has placed on her with this secret. It is a promise that she will keep, just as she will keep the promise she made Ronon. This could hurt Rodney far more than a fist or a knife ever could.
“I don't know what I'm doing,” Rodney says softly and looks up at the trees as if they hold the answer. “This is so completely out of control. I can't stop myself. What should I do, Teyla?”
“I do not know,” she says and lays her cheek against his chest. They lay there together, Rodney staring up at the sky and Teyla listening to his heartbeat slow until she hears Colonel Sheppard's voice in her ear. She pulls Rodney up and they touch foreheads for only the briefest of moments once more before they run.
She and Ronon are as evenly matched as they ever were, but now Teyla takes advantage of openings she might have been too cautious to attempt before, fights to hurt him where she stopped at simple conditioning before. They both smile as they circle each other, feral smiles that she knows frighten the Marines watching almost as much as they titillate them. She can smell their arousal, but it is only a background to the scent of Ronon. The enzyme makes him smell brighter, more fragrant, dirtier, like he hasn't bathed in months, like he's been bathing in his own sweat and she can almost taste it.
Their sticks clack and smack and whack together, every crack echoing in her ears as she dances around the circle with him. She grunts as she plants her feet and throws her shoulder into his solar plexus, twisting and taking him down. He yanks her ankle from his throat and takes her down to the mat. They both hop back up, sweat dripping off their bodies, ready for more.
When Ronon slams her into the wall with his hand at her throat, feet dangling in the air, she wraps her thighs around his waist and squeezes. She can feel his ribs crack as she hauls back with her shoulders and smashes her elbow into his face. She watches the spray of blood fly from his broken nose mingling with fat droplets of his sweat and licks the moisture off her lips.
Colonel Sheppard yells, “What the hell is going on?!” as he walks in the door followed by a twitchy looking Marine. The twitchy one lingers behind the Colonel for a moment then darts back out of the room taking the others with him.
“Ready for your turn, Sheppard?” Ronon asks, his voice low and gravelly in a way that makes Teyla want to shudder.
“Yeah, right,” he half laughs and shakes his head. “Despite what Rodney says, I am not suicidal.”
“We would never do you permanent harm, Colonel Sheppard. You have nothing to fear from us if you concentrate.”
“Uh huh. What's with all the blood, guys? Do I need to separate you two?” Colonel Sheppard's voice carries that lightness that she has come to expect from him, but she can hear the undercurrent of worry, too.
“We are fine, are we not, Ronon?” Teyla walks over to the side of the room and picks up her towel. The Colonel watches her with a worried look on his face as she wipes the sweat from her face.
“Better than fine,” Ronon says with a grin and drags the back of his forearm across his face to wipe away the blood.
“My men seemed to think you guys were gonna need a trip to the infirmary, there, buddy,” Colonel Sheppard says as he claps a hand on Ronon's back, but his eyes never leave Teyla.
Ronon just snorts.
It is late at night and all the people of Atlantis are in bed. Teyla sits on a bench in front of a large, dark window in the sparring room wiping the sweat from her arms when Rodney walks in. The air is still pungent and thick; she and Ronon fought for several hours and the smell of their exertion is everywhere. Rodney's hands clench and release over and over again as he makes his way across the room to Ronon who hangs upside down from a bar the Marines installed, curling up and slowly dropping back down.
As Ronon becomes aware of Rodney's presence his movement slows, then stops all together as Rodney comes closer. He hangs there with his arms behind his neck waiting for Rodney to reach him. Teyla watches the black, knitted fabric of Ronon's shirt fall, exposing his entire abdomen, just barely showing the dark brown of his nipples. His skin shines with sweat, somehow defining the cut of each muscle more than she remembers.
Rodney says, “I need, just, god, I need...” and presses his mouth to the skin just below Ronon's belt and licks.
Rodney drags his tongue along each ridge of muscle, laps at the sweat pooled in Ronon's navel and rubs his whole face against Ronon as if to mark himself with Ronon's sweat. Teyla watches Ronon's face between the spread of Rodney's thighs, sees his eyes; the feral look shoots straight through her. He doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, as Rodney unfastens Ronon's belt, opens his pants. She can feel the growl low in Ronon's throat as Rodney pulls him out and sucks him down. When Ronon curls up to rub his face into Rodney's groin Teyla moans.
She sees the sudden movement coming a split second before it happens.
Ronon drops his hands to the floor, wraps his legs around Rodney and twists. It only takes a second for him to pin Rodney to the floor on his belly, face pressing into the mat. Ronon whispers low in Rodney's ear as he shoves Rodney's pants down to his knees, rucks Rodney's shirt up under his arms and Rodney's eyes glaze over and stare unseeing in her direction. Teyla's breath hitches as she watches Ronon rub his chest and belly and cock against the length of Rodney's back.
When Ronon fucks into Rodney, Teyla realizes that her thighs are rubbing together, slick with sweat and she can smell herself. She squirms for a moment, feeling the brush of her skirt against her skin. The friction makes her gasp. She throws her head back. Even with her eyes closed she can hear the sounds of them fucking not ten paces away. Rodney whimpers and Ronon grunts and their flesh slapping together makes wet, squelchy sounds.
She is throbbing, achy with need and want and the enzyme calls out to her to take. Her eyes flutter open, desperate for more. Ronon challenges her with a look and she can see the invitation clear as the acid lake on Athos, beautiful and bottomless and dead but she aches to say yes, to let go, to let herself be out of control this one time. When she meets Rodney's eyes, Rodney's huge, wild eyes, she holds on to a thread of control, only just a single thread, but it is enough to keep her promise.
She slides her hand through the slit of her skirt, brushes the fabric aside and plunges her fingers deep inside herself. Teyla moans loud enough to break Rodney from his daze and she locks her eyes with his as Ronon fucks him. She pushes her fingers in and out, in and out, in time with Ronon's thrusts in and out of Rodney. She can almost feel Ronon's cock, can almost feel Ronon fucking him from across the room, can almost taste the sweat on their skin.
Teyla sees Rodney come. He cries out incoherently and she can smell his release. The scent of fighting and sex and the enzyme swirls in her head. She can feel the muscles inside her clench around her fingers. She feels hot wet heat sliding out of her with every twist of her slippery fingers and back inside. She cries out in a flash of pleasure so intense it hurts and shudders with the aftershocks. Her hand drops to her thigh and she works to control her breathing.
Rodney crumples into a heap on the floor, boneless and still and silent. His eyes are closed, she thinks, but his face is turned away from her. She is grateful.
Ronon pulls out, still hard as he crawls across the mat. She sees him moving as if time has slowed. Her limbs are much too heavy to move. When he reaches her, he takes her fingers in his mouth and she lets him.
Teyla shudders as Ronon sucks her index finger, tongue laving the over-sensitized digit, sucking the slick and the heat and the wet of her pussy from it until it wrinkles in his mouth. When he laps at the web of skin between her fingers Teyla gasps and clenches her thighs together. A low rumble like purring or thunder comes from Ronon's chest as he sucks a second finger and a third like he's hungry for her taste until he's sucked them all clean.
Ronon licks his lips and smiles at her with a wicked, hungry look as he strokes himself.
She hits him, hard, and walks out.
Author: Abi
Rating: Adult Content
Challenge: Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll
Spoilers: Up to the Hive (mid season 2)
Summary: “We agreed that it would be best for all if we no longer relied upon the enzyme.”
Pairing: Teyla/Rodney/Ronon
Author's Notes: Thank you to my betas chimosa, fashes, kitkat3979, lemonbella and rosewildeirish and anyone I may have forgetten should shoot me.
“Ronon, you must stop this foolish behavior,” Teyla admonishes as the door to his room slides shut.
Ronon holds the needle fresh from the vein in his arm, tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow with a playful smile on his face she fights hard not to respond to. “Want some?”
“We agreed that it would be best for all if we no longer relied upon the enzyme.”
“You and the doctor agreed,” he growls, body practically vibrating. “No one asked me.”
“Do you not remember what happened to Lieutenant Ford and his men?” She shudders at the memory of Aiden so completely changed, so completely lost to the effects of the enzyme. She shudders again as Ronon takes the leather thong tied around his bicep between his teeth and pulls it free. He flexes his arm, clenches and releases his fist and hops up from the floor.
“They were greedy,” he says as he prowls toward her. “They took too much. But Ford was right. It works. You know it and I know it.”
Teyla looks away, unable to argue, but Ronon looms over her, grabs her face with a warm hand and tilts it up to his. She meets his eye, feels the heat of his breath as he speaks.
“It's worth it.”
“Will it be worth it when the others learn what you have been doing? Do you think that they will be as understanding as I am?” Teyla stares up at Ronon, meets his eyes defiantly and he drops his hand. “Dr. McKay has already noticed something is different. Have you not seen the way he watches you, now, as if he is trying to solve a puzzle? It is only a matter of time before he discovers what you are doing. Do you think that he will hesitate to tell Colonel Sheppard when he realizes what it is, as he will no doubt soon?”
“I can handle McKay,” Ronon says as he turns away from her. She grabs his arm and jerks him back to face her.
“If you harm him, I will not be understanding.” She says it slowly, sharp and flat so that he will not mistake her meaning. She will kill him if anything happens to Rodney and she knows it. He knows it now, too.
“I can handle it,” he says softly, meeting her eyes.
She searches them for a moment, then nods once and breaks away. “Gather your things, we leave in an hour.”
“Sure you don't want some?”
The red fluid inside the thin glass chamber clings to the sides as the needle rolls on Ronon's palm. She can smell it in the air, has smelled it for weeks on Ronon's sweat before deciding to confront him, feels a hunger in her veins for just one dose.
She shakes her head and steps through the door.
“One hour, Ronon.”
A tiny pin prick of blood dried almost black mars the perfect skin of Ronon's forearm just over the thick vein. She wants to wipe it away so that she does not have to think of it. His reflexes are not so much faster, his strikes not so much harder, his coordination not so superior that Colonel Sheppard would notice as he watches them spar, but Teyla knows.
Their skin is slick with sweat by the time Ronon pins her to the mat, his hand around her throat, his knee wedged between her thighs, the scent filling the air. He smells good, smells like the enzyme, smells like strength and sex and Wraith and that scares her more than anything else. The heat of his body on hers is almost oppressive, but she aches for it, wants to arch up, to grind into him, press the naked skin of her stomach against his, lick the sweat from his throat, but Colonel Sheppard is watching.
She inhales deeply and does not follow Ronon to his room.
Her ankle hurts. Her concentration is not what it should be and she is paying the price. One of the first lessons her father taught her as a child was to mind her footing, to be aware of every step, every sound she makes. She has not slipped in her memory and yet today she slipped from a stone into the river as she crossed. She is wet and the fabric of the uniform of Atlantis clings to her chest, chafes the skin beneath and rubs rough at her thighs painfully as she runs.
The audible pop as her ankle gives out surprises her and she thinks she has never felt anything quite like it as she falls for the second time that day. Ronon scoops her up before she touches the grass and tosses her over his shoulder. In part of her mind she can hear Dr. McKay yelling something and Colonel Sheppard responding but her focus is narrowing to the rhythm of Ronon's feet pounding into the ground as he runs, his coarse hair tickling her face, the heat of him, the smell of him. This close the scent of the enzyme swimming in the ripe scent of man leaves her flushed and dizzy.
Her face brushes the sweat-damp skin of his neck as he swings her down to the gurney waiting for them in the gate room and she almost wishes that she had thought to open her mouth and taste on the way down.
Lingering at the entrance to the corridor leading to Ronon's room could easily be attributed to her injury. If anyone asks she will say that she stopped because she is in pain, that she needs only a moment to rest before walking the short distance to her own quarters. It would not be a lie. She is in pain. She stands slowly, intending to return to her bed to take her rest, the rest she promised Doctor Beckett. She pushes herself from the wall and hesitates.
“You coming?” Ronon asks from a pace behind her, startling her.
“I... I do not wish to impose upon your time to rest.”
“All we do here is rest. Makes us soft. Makes us forget how to run.” Teyla doesn't know if he is referring to himself or her, or maybe both. She bows her head in response, almost a nod and follows him.
Ronon unbuckles the cuffs at his wrists and tosses them on the bed, sprawls beside them. He pulls a long, slender vial from somewhere inside one cuff and presses it into the butt of a fine gage needle from the other. He wraps the leather thong from his hair high around his arm. Teyla watches transfixed as the metal of the needle disappears into the soft flesh just above the crease of his elbow, watches the expression on his face as the red fluid disappears, watches his thighs relax and spread as his tension disappears and she wants.
He smiles at her almost lazy like Colonel Sheppard, almost predatory like the Wraith, jerks the needle from his arm, pulls the empty vial from the body of the needle with his teeth and loads a second. When he offers it to her, she reaches out for it, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her down on top of him and caresses her arm just where the needle slipped into his with his thumb.
“No, Ronon, what are you doing?” she asks, fighting against the cage of his arms tightening around her. “I do not wish to be with you in this way!”
His hips relax and roll beneath her as he releases his arm, dropping it to rest loose below her waist. She can feel his arousal. She pushes herself up, hands planted on his chest and meets his eyes as she rises from the bed. “It cannot be as it was before. We were nothing more than animals in the caves. The Wraith think that we are nothing but mindless chattel to feed upon and I will not let them make me so. I do not wish to rut fruitlessly with you or any other man.”
“I am not an animal,” Ronon growls. He opens his palm in offering.
“Then do not treat me like one again,” she says and snatches the needle from his hand.
She can see him rubbing the bulge in his pants as she limps away.
Teyla knows that the doctor, no, all of the Atlantians, disapprove of the enzyme. She can't blame them after looking into Aiden's mangled face, his mad, empty eyes, but that is all they can see. They don't see the strength, the added agility that they need to fight the Wraith. She knows what too much will do to her, but she also knows what just enough will feel like. She sighs as she slides the needle into her thigh.
The enzyme in her veins again is like sex, makes her pulse race and body throb and her mind revert to her baser instincts. She wants to fuck and she can't decide if she's glad she left Ronon before she injected herself or not. It would feel so good to have a hard body to rub against right now and Ronon is hard in ways no one else is. Her feet find their way back before her mind has made a decision.
Ronon is naked from the waist up, arms spread wide, bracing him on either side of the door as it opens.
“You here to fight or fuck?” he asks with a predatory leer. His head snaps to the side as her fist connects with his jaw.
“Fight,” she snarls, falling back into a fighting stance, though that wasn't what she came for at all.
Ronon just licks the blood from his lip and smiles.
“Should you be walking around already?” Rodney asks. “Carson is remarkably callous about pain, I mean he probably didn't even give you the good drugs, but I don't think he'd actually want you to hurt yourself.
“I certainly could use an extra day or two in my lab if you need to put off the mission. Life saving insight we could be missing out on here and all that,” he says with a wave of his hands she finds endearing. “I'm sure the Colonel would understand.”
“I am fine, Rodney.” Teyla smiles at Rodney and inclines her head as she checks the fastenings for her weapons. She wants to touch his arm to reassure him, but that will only leave him flustered. “The injury was not as serious as we feared. All is well.”
“Are you sure? It looked pretty damn serious when Ronon had to carry you to the gate like a sack of potatoes while we were all running for our lives. I have a bad back; I could be permanently disabled trying to do that, so don't count on me dragging you back home if it happens again.”
Teyla raises an eyebrow and attempts to hide her indulgent smile. “Thank you for your concern, Doctor.”
“You know, McKay, it's your sensitive, caring nature that really makes the women fall at your feet,” Colonel Sheppard drawls as he walks into the room followed by Ronon who looks at her with a raised eyebrow, then turns his gaze toward Rodney. “Everybody ready to go?”
“Why does everyone want to chase us? Are we wearing eau de Throw Rocks at Me?” Rodney whines as he stumbles through the woods loud enough to make Teyla cringe.
“I think it's your charming personality, McKay.” John says jovially, mostly, Teyla knows, to keep Rodney calm. They can all hear the natives chasing them with torches and rocks larger than Teyla cares to be hit with, even with the enzyme flooding her veins.
“Me?! Oh no, not this time. This time it's all you and your charm that got us into this, you and your roving eyes and your flirting with every pretty girl and expecting them to fall at your feet. They liked me before you debauched the chieftain's daughter.”
“There was no debauching! She was naked when I got there!”
“Uh huh. Why can't we go to a planet where tall, blonde women appear naked out of thin air in my room for a change?”
The whine of a Wraith dart cuts short their bickering. Teyla see the white light dragging through the forest behind them. She doesn't think, just grabs Rodney's arm to pull him away from the path. She runs and he follows as quickly as he can, far more gracefully than when they first began their missions together, but it is still not enough. They fall into the underbrush together. Teyla twists them so that she lands on top, covering him, protecting him as she could not were she pinned beneath him.
They land with an ooomph and though she expects him to begin a litany of complaints, he remains silent with her laid out on top of him. Her hair hangs down around his face like a curtain, a few of the copper strands stuck to his mouth. He licks his lips and looks up at her. Teyla can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest against her palms. Rodney is warm and solid beneath her and for a moment she forgets everything else.
Then Rodney smells her.
It breaks the spell and tension snaps through her body. Rodney groans and knocks his head back in the the ground. Two twigs break. She is breathless waiting for him to condemn her. She knows he can smell the enzyme on her this close, how could he not? How long will he wait to tell Colonel Sheppard? How long before the questioning begins?
The censure that comes is not the one she expects.
“You smell like Ronon,” Rodney groans softly. He pulls her back to him and buries his nose in her throat, his fingers wrapped in her hair and breathes deep. “God, you smell just like him. You're fucking him and all I can think is that I want to lick you. Do you get a buzz when your skin touches? Do you feel more alive when he comes inside you? Do you get jittery waiting to see him? Do you crave his cum in your mouth the way I do?”
Abruptly Teyla understands how Ronon has managed to stop Rodney from reporting them. A sick feeling slams into her stomach like a fist.
“Ronon and I share a bond, it is true,” she begins, a shiver running through her body from where Rodney nuzzles her. She wants to do a hundred things that she will never let herself do, but she indulges herself for a moment, pressing their foreheads together. Their lips brush as she speaks. “But it is not that bond.”
“I'm not stupid, you know. He's, god, he so hot I can barely stop myself from licking him in public and I can't tell you how many times when I met you I wanted to, well, never mind,” Rodney's hands loosen in her hair and fall away to the ground. He sighs, his body relaxes in a strangely tense way and his eyes fall closed. “But you are practically bookends when it comes to hotness. Of course he's sleeping with you.”
“The only bed he shares is yours,” she promises, another burden Ronon has placed on her with this secret. It is a promise that she will keep, just as she will keep the promise she made Ronon. This could hurt Rodney far more than a fist or a knife ever could.
“I don't know what I'm doing,” Rodney says softly and looks up at the trees as if they hold the answer. “This is so completely out of control. I can't stop myself. What should I do, Teyla?”
“I do not know,” she says and lays her cheek against his chest. They lay there together, Rodney staring up at the sky and Teyla listening to his heartbeat slow until she hears Colonel Sheppard's voice in her ear. She pulls Rodney up and they touch foreheads for only the briefest of moments once more before they run.
She and Ronon are as evenly matched as they ever were, but now Teyla takes advantage of openings she might have been too cautious to attempt before, fights to hurt him where she stopped at simple conditioning before. They both smile as they circle each other, feral smiles that she knows frighten the Marines watching almost as much as they titillate them. She can smell their arousal, but it is only a background to the scent of Ronon. The enzyme makes him smell brighter, more fragrant, dirtier, like he hasn't bathed in months, like he's been bathing in his own sweat and she can almost taste it.
Their sticks clack and smack and whack together, every crack echoing in her ears as she dances around the circle with him. She grunts as she plants her feet and throws her shoulder into his solar plexus, twisting and taking him down. He yanks her ankle from his throat and takes her down to the mat. They both hop back up, sweat dripping off their bodies, ready for more.
When Ronon slams her into the wall with his hand at her throat, feet dangling in the air, she wraps her thighs around his waist and squeezes. She can feel his ribs crack as she hauls back with her shoulders and smashes her elbow into his face. She watches the spray of blood fly from his broken nose mingling with fat droplets of his sweat and licks the moisture off her lips.
Colonel Sheppard yells, “What the hell is going on?!” as he walks in the door followed by a twitchy looking Marine. The twitchy one lingers behind the Colonel for a moment then darts back out of the room taking the others with him.
“Ready for your turn, Sheppard?” Ronon asks, his voice low and gravelly in a way that makes Teyla want to shudder.
“Yeah, right,” he half laughs and shakes his head. “Despite what Rodney says, I am not suicidal.”
“We would never do you permanent harm, Colonel Sheppard. You have nothing to fear from us if you concentrate.”
“Uh huh. What's with all the blood, guys? Do I need to separate you two?” Colonel Sheppard's voice carries that lightness that she has come to expect from him, but she can hear the undercurrent of worry, too.
“We are fine, are we not, Ronon?” Teyla walks over to the side of the room and picks up her towel. The Colonel watches her with a worried look on his face as she wipes the sweat from her face.
“Better than fine,” Ronon says with a grin and drags the back of his forearm across his face to wipe away the blood.
“My men seemed to think you guys were gonna need a trip to the infirmary, there, buddy,” Colonel Sheppard says as he claps a hand on Ronon's back, but his eyes never leave Teyla.
Ronon just snorts.
It is late at night and all the people of Atlantis are in bed. Teyla sits on a bench in front of a large, dark window in the sparring room wiping the sweat from her arms when Rodney walks in. The air is still pungent and thick; she and Ronon fought for several hours and the smell of their exertion is everywhere. Rodney's hands clench and release over and over again as he makes his way across the room to Ronon who hangs upside down from a bar the Marines installed, curling up and slowly dropping back down.
As Ronon becomes aware of Rodney's presence his movement slows, then stops all together as Rodney comes closer. He hangs there with his arms behind his neck waiting for Rodney to reach him. Teyla watches the black, knitted fabric of Ronon's shirt fall, exposing his entire abdomen, just barely showing the dark brown of his nipples. His skin shines with sweat, somehow defining the cut of each muscle more than she remembers.
Rodney says, “I need, just, god, I need...” and presses his mouth to the skin just below Ronon's belt and licks.
Rodney drags his tongue along each ridge of muscle, laps at the sweat pooled in Ronon's navel and rubs his whole face against Ronon as if to mark himself with Ronon's sweat. Teyla watches Ronon's face between the spread of Rodney's thighs, sees his eyes; the feral look shoots straight through her. He doesn't move, doesn't make a sound, as Rodney unfastens Ronon's belt, opens his pants. She can feel the growl low in Ronon's throat as Rodney pulls him out and sucks him down. When Ronon curls up to rub his face into Rodney's groin Teyla moans.
She sees the sudden movement coming a split second before it happens.
Ronon drops his hands to the floor, wraps his legs around Rodney and twists. It only takes a second for him to pin Rodney to the floor on his belly, face pressing into the mat. Ronon whispers low in Rodney's ear as he shoves Rodney's pants down to his knees, rucks Rodney's shirt up under his arms and Rodney's eyes glaze over and stare unseeing in her direction. Teyla's breath hitches as she watches Ronon rub his chest and belly and cock against the length of Rodney's back.
When Ronon fucks into Rodney, Teyla realizes that her thighs are rubbing together, slick with sweat and she can smell herself. She squirms for a moment, feeling the brush of her skirt against her skin. The friction makes her gasp. She throws her head back. Even with her eyes closed she can hear the sounds of them fucking not ten paces away. Rodney whimpers and Ronon grunts and their flesh slapping together makes wet, squelchy sounds.
She is throbbing, achy with need and want and the enzyme calls out to her to take. Her eyes flutter open, desperate for more. Ronon challenges her with a look and she can see the invitation clear as the acid lake on Athos, beautiful and bottomless and dead but she aches to say yes, to let go, to let herself be out of control this one time. When she meets Rodney's eyes, Rodney's huge, wild eyes, she holds on to a thread of control, only just a single thread, but it is enough to keep her promise.
She slides her hand through the slit of her skirt, brushes the fabric aside and plunges her fingers deep inside herself. Teyla moans loud enough to break Rodney from his daze and she locks her eyes with his as Ronon fucks him. She pushes her fingers in and out, in and out, in time with Ronon's thrusts in and out of Rodney. She can almost feel Ronon's cock, can almost feel Ronon fucking him from across the room, can almost taste the sweat on their skin.
Teyla sees Rodney come. He cries out incoherently and she can smell his release. The scent of fighting and sex and the enzyme swirls in her head. She can feel the muscles inside her clench around her fingers. She feels hot wet heat sliding out of her with every twist of her slippery fingers and back inside. She cries out in a flash of pleasure so intense it hurts and shudders with the aftershocks. Her hand drops to her thigh and she works to control her breathing.
Rodney crumples into a heap on the floor, boneless and still and silent. His eyes are closed, she thinks, but his face is turned away from her. She is grateful.
Ronon pulls out, still hard as he crawls across the mat. She sees him moving as if time has slowed. Her limbs are much too heavy to move. When he reaches her, he takes her fingers in his mouth and she lets him.
Teyla shudders as Ronon sucks her index finger, tongue laving the over-sensitized digit, sucking the slick and the heat and the wet of her pussy from it until it wrinkles in his mouth. When he laps at the web of skin between her fingers Teyla gasps and clenches her thighs together. A low rumble like purring or thunder comes from Ronon's chest as he sucks a second finger and a third like he's hungry for her taste until he's sucked them all clean.
Ronon licks his lips and smiles at her with a wicked, hungry look as he strokes himself.
She hits him, hard, and walks out.