Ache, by The Moonmoth [Slave Challenge]
Title: Ache
Author: The Moonmoth
Challenge: Slavery
Summary: "She should have stopped when she realized her need had gone beyond the purely physical."
Rating: PG-13
Category: Het
Pairings: Emmagan/Beckett, Emmagan/Ford, Emmagan/Sheppard, Emmagan/McKay
Beta: None, but if anyone wants to...?
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.
***
Ache
by The Moonmoth
***
Some nights, Teyla thinks about Dr. Beckett, with his sweet smile and soft, beguiling eyes. She recalls the strange lilt to the way he speaks, the rolls and clips and easy endearments, and knows she'd never get tired of hearing him talk. She thinks about his sure, steady hands moving over her skin, all warmth and comfort and steady passion, and imagines that voice, low and husky with need.
Sometimes it's Lieutenant Ford. She imagines having that energy and youth in her life, put to use on her body.
She used to imagine it was Major Sheppard. She'd envisage giving herself up to his easy charm and boyish smile. It wouldn't have been difficult. He didn't pay her the attention he once had, and she knew now that his charm was part of the way he was, but she also knew the way to move, to smile at him, to have his attentions again.
Their next mission after the Genii invaded, when at night she felt his restless sleep, she reached out to touch him, following her impulse to soothe.
Teyla doesn't think about him anymore.
More recently, Dr. McKay has entered her fantasies. There's a safety in his strong, bulky body and broad hands. His sharp, frenetic intelligence fascinates her in the beautiful, incomprehensible manner of a waterfall. She rarely understands, but she has learnt to watch, and occasionally she will see something she recognizes: joy, playfulness, yearning.
With him, it's a flurry of ecstasy up against the wall in the shower; sweet and slow by the light of her candles; on the chair in his office; on the bench in his lab. Endless creativity.
She should have stopped when she realized her need had gone beyond the purely physical. But she has no control over the direction her thoughts take, the way they wind towards the different faces, hands, bodies, when she's naked and alone. Because she could listen to Carson all night, because Aiden is young and handsome, because she wishes to be captivated by John, because she has such affection for Rodney... because of this, it's her own hands that caress her body in the heavy dark of her quarters.
The ache of her orgasm wells up through her, warm and desperate, but even as she's coming, her body pulsing with pleasure, there is an offset, a counterpoint of emptiness. A different kind of ache that makes her sob through the aftershocks for the ties she won't bind here in Atlantis.
Can't bind. Because her people will always talk of returning to Athos, and one day it will be possible.
Author: The Moonmoth
Challenge: Slavery
Summary: "She should have stopped when she realized her need had gone beyond the purely physical."
Rating: PG-13
Category: Het
Pairings: Emmagan/Beckett, Emmagan/Ford, Emmagan/Sheppard, Emmagan/McKay
Beta: None, but if anyone wants to...?
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.
***
Ache
by The Moonmoth
***
Some nights, Teyla thinks about Dr. Beckett, with his sweet smile and soft, beguiling eyes. She recalls the strange lilt to the way he speaks, the rolls and clips and easy endearments, and knows she'd never get tired of hearing him talk. She thinks about his sure, steady hands moving over her skin, all warmth and comfort and steady passion, and imagines that voice, low and husky with need.
Sometimes it's Lieutenant Ford. She imagines having that energy and youth in her life, put to use on her body.
She used to imagine it was Major Sheppard. She'd envisage giving herself up to his easy charm and boyish smile. It wouldn't have been difficult. He didn't pay her the attention he once had, and she knew now that his charm was part of the way he was, but she also knew the way to move, to smile at him, to have his attentions again.
Their next mission after the Genii invaded, when at night she felt his restless sleep, she reached out to touch him, following her impulse to soothe.
Teyla doesn't think about him anymore.
More recently, Dr. McKay has entered her fantasies. There's a safety in his strong, bulky body and broad hands. His sharp, frenetic intelligence fascinates her in the beautiful, incomprehensible manner of a waterfall. She rarely understands, but she has learnt to watch, and occasionally she will see something she recognizes: joy, playfulness, yearning.
With him, it's a flurry of ecstasy up against the wall in the shower; sweet and slow by the light of her candles; on the chair in his office; on the bench in his lab. Endless creativity.
She should have stopped when she realized her need had gone beyond the purely physical. But she has no control over the direction her thoughts take, the way they wind towards the different faces, hands, bodies, when she's naked and alone. Because she could listen to Carson all night, because Aiden is young and handsome, because she wishes to be captivated by John, because she has such affection for Rodney... because of this, it's her own hands that caress her body in the heavy dark of her quarters.
The ache of her orgasm wells up through her, warm and desperate, but even as she's coming, her body pulsing with pleasure, there is an offset, a counterpoint of emptiness. A different kind of ache that makes her sob through the aftershocks for the ties she won't bind here in Atlantis.
Can't bind. Because her people will always talk of returning to Athos, and one day it will be possible.