Part: 1/1
Rating: M
Spoilers: Begins during AU version of Vengeance (S3), with mention of characters who appear in S4.
Summary: Yet another Bug fic - companion piece to previous fics: 'Irreversible Consequences' and 'Irrepressible Urges' [you don't really have to have read them to understand this fic]. Please note this is a rather dark fic.
Note: Part of Fic Tag with Gater101.
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The searing force through her blood was at its most intense now and she took a breath to try and calm herself. The creatures' blood dripped from the knife in her hand, streaming down to her wrist. It smelt twisted and manipulated, just as Michael had intended. Though, she had to wonder if her blood smelt the same way.
A flash of light behind her told her the rest of the team had almost caught up with her, which meant she had to move on faster. The dull oppressive sensation of the long concrete corridors surrounding her made her feel ready to scream, but instead she funnelled that anger into her arms, her legs and her heart that seemed to be so ready for this fight.
Another creature entered the corridor and she struck out at it. It was so strong, but that gave her the means she needed to release her own full power. She had never done so before, not to this extent. Her body felt full and vital, her heart beating life through her veins and it burned a fire in her belly. If she was hurt from the sharp claws of the Iratus beast she did not know it; all she knew was the creature's last scream as she kicked it down and aside.
The team were firing bullets into the last remains of the monsters behind her, and the flashes highlighted the approaching enemy. Teyla knew she was smiling and some part of her was shocked at herself, but then she remembered the room of dumped human innocents that Michael had used to make these monsters. She remembered the first team that had been killed and all that allowed her to finally give full rein to her blood fever.
Thrusting, cutting, punching, turning, twisting and jumping she fought her way to the end of the corridor. Michael's presence was stronger now, but she could feel his fear and for a second she liked that; that he should finally be afraid for what he had done. Shimmering on the edges of that awareness were the thick stupid sensations of the creatures, but also to one side; the powerful feeling of John's mind.
He was working round from the opposite side of the bunker, cutting down the monsters as she was, as they made the way safe for the two teams. She could feel his own power through the air and she caught herself reaching towards him enjoying the mirrored image of what she felt. But, she pulled back, for she knew she was not the same. For too long she had struggled against these instincts, fearful of them and of herself. John did not have that fear; he had accepted it all much easier and had a strong confidence in his new skills. Hers plagued her in their presence and needs.
A creature landed on her from an unseen platform near the ceiling of the corridor. She lashed out at it, turning her self recriminations on it, ending its life as quickly and efficiently as she could. Yet, the self hatred would not die so easily. In the dark light cast by only one unbroken light, she saw the dark patches of her new skin mixing in the shadows with the creatures' blood. Horrified at herself and at the same time thrilled at her power she paused.
She held up her hand, unable to tell where her blue skin ended and the blood began. Her heart beat faster now, but in a new panicked rhythm. What was inside was so strong and unspoken that now she had let it loose she feared it would not return easily into its box.
Gunfire behind her drew her back into the present and she shook away the thoughts, but her own instincts were not so easily pushed back now. The loud clambering dull minds of the monsters were all around her and she ran down the next corridor, knife in her hand and her P90, long forgotten, thumping against her chest. The monsters had no chance against her, though they fought well enough with their crude claws and thoughts.
There were more of them in the room ahead and though her team was now further behind her, fighting with more of Michael's abominations, she knew they would be well enough to leave for now. The starkly lit room ahead held the creatures all screeching and hissing and she launched on those closest. Only then as she fought into the battle did she realise that John was already in the room, twisting and turning in battle as she was. He fought with a gun on one hand and a long knife in his other. It looked like one of Ronon's hand fashioned weapons and it was clearly cutting through mutated Iratus flesh easily enough.
John's mind brushed against hers and she felt the flush of his thrill in his skill, felt his own blood fever tearing through him as he fought furiously across the dark room. She turned on those who would hurt him, who would hurt others and fought on herself.
With her strikes and parries she fought, kicking and punching, grabbing and throwing as best as she could. Energy and strength she had never realised she possessed kept supplying her and though there was the faint sensation of tiredness somewhere it did not matter to her. This was the first time she had allowed herself to let loose her own monster.
The darkness flashed with John's last bullet and the monster in front of her fell and she turned to the next. It pushed her forcefully backwards into the wall and only then did she realise it had not the thick metallic shell of the monsters, but the warm hotly sweaty skin of a human. She thrust out at him pushing him back and into the thin single light that swung over the carnage they had wrought together.
John's eyes flashed with the same wildness as her own and she felt his mind latching onto her, now all their enemies were gone, but that did not lessen the fire in her body. She drew in a deep breath tasting the blood in the air, but mostly John's smell; full of alluring tastes of his strength and vitality and of his arousal. She struck out at him, but she was not sure what had made her do so. The strike was loosely delivered to keep him back, but also to provoke him somehow. He stepped back and away from her fast strike, almost falling over the dead creatures, but he kept upright. The light ghosted over him, the lone bulb swinging through the air and all she could see were the retrovirus' shadows over his skin. She pulled back, stumbling over the fallen and against the wall behind her. It was cold against her back and through the torn sections of her shirt.
Her mind cleared then almost instantly and she drew in a startled breath. Gunfire outside had stopped and she saw torch lights dancing down the corridor walls outside. John stepped towards her, one hand reaching out to steady her. She didn't pull back from him this time, only looked up at him, needing to see now that she was not alone in any of this.
"It's okay," John said to her, his hand catching lightly around her upper arm, supporting her.
She shook her head and then nodded. "I am unharmed."
His hand tightened around her arm enough to ease her away from the wall. "It fades quickly," he told her.
She looked up into his eyes and frowned at him before realising what he meant.
"It gets easier," he added, his eyes slipping in and out of shadows as the bulb still swung across the room.
Teyla couldn't image it ever getting easier.
"You need to practice with it more," he added, his tone so like the normal everyday John Sheppard that was her friend still, despite the distance between them. She looked away from him; in truth there was less distance between them than ever now, they were more alike each other than with anyone else.
"It scares me," she found her self whispering to him. She had not spoken of this to anyone save Laura before.
"I know, it gets easier," John replied, his voice soft and private in the room they were still alone in. "You need to let it out more," he added and there was a touch of amusement in his voice.
She was both annoyed and relieved to hear that. She nodded as she gently shook John's supportive hand free, pulling herself back together. "Thank you."
He stepped back again, the distance literally and emotionally returning between them.
Voices just outside the doorway heralded the rest of the two teams who had finally caught up with them. John turned from her, his knife in his belt and he set about reloading his gun as he met Ronon and Lorne in the doorway. Teyla watched him move away, her eyes glancing down his long back. The heat rose up once again inside, but now she had more control and she pushed it down, turning her eyes away from John.
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He was an Athosian, judging by the worn leather jacket that stretched over his wide solid shoulders. John paused in the entrance to the Mess Hall studying the back view of the man who sat opposite Teyla. Someone mumbled an apology as they bumped into John's shoulder, despite the fact that it was John's fault for blocking the doorway. Broken out of his surprised wonderings he moved forward following Ronon's back towards the food tables, but his eyes remained on the couple seated at the far end of the hall.
Something about it bothered him and without making any conscious decision he changed direction heading towards their table. His attention was focused on Teyla as he walked down the avenue of tables towards her. She was dressed nicely, not that she didn't always look good, but this was a new top. It was a pale colour that stood out in nice contrast to her dark skin, the neckline outlining a square of her chest. His eyes dropped to the lower edge of the neckline; if she were to twist too far round it would probably gape open and show more of her.
A thick determined haze floated over his mind as he neared them, aware Ronon was following him. Teyla noticed him approaching and he saw the same, frustratingly annoying, expression cross her face as it always did now. Her smile transformed into a schooled polite expression that held elements of annoyance. He locked his gaze with hers for a moment, struggling himself now with what was inside that wanted out. She narrowed her eyes as he reached the table and he turned to look down at the man seated opposite her.
The man looked up at him with a friendly smile. "Colonel Sheppard, it is good to see you again."
John nodded in return. "Sorry, I don't remember your name..?"
"Kanaan," the man replied. Ronon stopped near to John's shoulder; closer than was necessary.
"Visiting the city?" John asked, just keeping out the sarcasm.
"Kanaan is visiting me," Teyla interrupted, her tone holding a solid bar of warning.
John didn't look away from Kanaan though. "Staying long?"
Kanaan's polite expression wavered then, but he smiled still. "I'm not too sure yet," he gaze slid over to Teyla and John felt anger growing inside.
"Nice to see you again, Kanaan," Ronon said.
Kanaan turned to look up at Ronon. "Hello, Ronon. I am glad to see you are well."
"As always," Ronon replied.
John could tell Kanaan was glad of Ronon's interruption and the excuse not to have to meet John's gaze any more. Teyla stood up abruptly, drawing John's attention round to her. Her eyes were blazing with anger; something he rarely, if ever, saw in her. He found he liked it; to see her strict unrealistic shell broken even slightly to reveal the woman beneath.
"You may have this table if you wish, we were just leaving. Kanaan," she looked over the table to Kanaan, who let out a surprised agreement. John felt the shift to the male's scent, but John didn't look round. Teyla met his gaze for a brief second before she looked away, reaching for an Athosian bag on the chair down beside her. John watched her bend down, his eyes sliding down to the neckline of her top. It was gaping just a little, stretching with her as much as it could before it stopped and her skin slid under it. John's eyes fixed on the far corner of her top, watching the swell of her breast revealed briefly as she wrapped her hand around the bag. He frowned as she shifted a little more and he saw the subtle tinges of blue stretching out from the centre of her breast; just a touch. He just stopped himself from gasping at his new found knowledge of her and she was straightening upright, her top sliding back into place.
He looked up at her face, but it was clear she was avoiding his eyes and she pushed out from her chair, forcing him to step back to allow her to leave. He stayed as close as he could as she pushed past his front, her chin held up and forward, ignoring him. He could feel her anger though, but more worryingly, as she pushed past he saw her eyes settle on Kanaan with what he could only call anticipation. He drew in a breath of her as she passed, tasting her thin control of what was bubbling beneath her control. There were times of the month when he caught this sense stronger from her and it was very strong now, causing his skin to tingle and his palms itch to reach for her. He turned and watched her walking away down the avenue of tables away from him. Kanaan stepped in behind her, following her and blocking John's view of her.
John glared into the back of the man, anger and something a little more worrying making him grind his teeth together. Ronon stepped forward then, cutting off John's view of Kanaan following Teyla. John stepped aside looking around Ronon's other shoulder to watch the couple crossing the hall towards the exit. Teyla paused at the door, waiting for Kanaan to join her. There was a smile on her lips that John hadn't seen before and wished to again. They disappeared out of the doors and John frowned.
Ronon cleared his throat drawing John's attention back to him. John looked up at him with a mixture of sheepishness and anger.
"What?" John demanded.
Ronon gave him a knowing half smile. "Leave him be," he ordered.
"Leave who be?" John asked as casually as possible.
Ronon wasn't fooled and glared back knowingly.
"Whatever," John replied with a dismissive wave, embarrassed at his behaviour and that it was all so transparent to his friend. He sat down at the table, choosing the chair Teyla had sat on, its warmed seat satisfying under him. Ronon stood over him for a moment before he slipped into the chair opposite.
John realised he didn't have any food, so he reached out for the orange sitting on the edge of Ronon's tray, ignoring the man's half hearted grunt at the fruit stealing. John began stripping off the thick orange skin, dropping the torn pieces onto the table absently, as he looked back towards the exit. Her scent lingered around him and as he drew it in he almost groaned at the sweetness of it.
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She pressed her front against the wide expanse of his chest and enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers. Her body thrummed with need, with desire and Kanaan was happy to supply her with what she wanted. He had made his affections clear long ago and she had kept him away as a sexual partner for too long. He had been one of the first of her people to accept her changes. They were an accepting people and they always welcomed her as normal, but there would often be the weighted look of pity in their eyes. She hated that look, for it made her feel sorry for herself. Before, she had never indulged in such emotion, but now she fought against it daily. That she had to battle other emotions and wants everyday made her sorry for herself. Kanaan was happy to help her feel better.
Two days ago, following her slaughter of Michael's monsters, she had gone to her people afraid for them. Michael's research that they had found in his underground base had held enough pieces for her to be worried for any others like her who could be used to further Michael's research. They had listened to her and had agreed to allow the small group of Atlantis personnel to remain in the camp to watch over them. Teyla had remained with them for an extra day; the soft gentle life of her people calming her inner demon somewhat. The wide open spaces had cooled her mind, but her blood had still burned for what had started in those dark hallways. Images of John's fighting beside her, his scent, and the long muscular length of his body had plagued her. She had thought he had wanted her then, but it was no doubt due to his own retrovirus altered hormones. She would not be lead by such forces. Yet, the attraction she had always felt for John, was now even stronger, fed with the need to find some release from the culminating months of struggle with her demon.
He had told her she needed to practice allowing out her instincts and she had come to agree. It was foolish and unhealthy for her to repress and contain these feelings anymore. It would one day twist her further if she didn't. She had to find control by allowing out some of it. And right now it wanted, it desired.
Kanaan's hands over her were weaker than she wanted and she pulled him tighter to her. She felt the growl at the back of her throat, but she kept it in. He pulled at her top, pulling it up and off her and the cool early evening air was very satisfying against her back. His hand trailed down her back, but though it was pleasurable she wanted more and she told him so. He caressed her with more pressure and she felt him pause as he discovered the slightly thickened areas of her skin down her back.
But, he didn't realise that the areas were just as sensitive to touch and so his lingering built her desire only more. She dug her nails into his shoulders, slid her hands up the sides of his neck to cup his jaw. She pulled his mouth down to hers, and felt him stiffen at the pull, but he met her mouth and kissed her. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, tasting and seeking, but he didn't quite taste how she wished him to.
He pulled her tighter to him, understanding she wanted more from him and he lifted her slightly. She growled now, wrapping one of her legs up and around one of his hips and he reached down to her thigh, holding her up against his groin. She kissed him deeper as she ground against him, the fire growing inside.
A faint presence flickered on the edges of her mind and she pushed against it, forcing it away. She tightened one hand into Kanaan's hair and licked his lips resisting the urge to bite him. She traced down his muscular chest, her nails, her claws, scraping against his skin. She felt his fear flash through him for a moment and it broke through the haze of desire for a moment.
Panting she pulled back from his mouth, and fisted up her hand, hiding her claws away inside her fist where they wouldn't hurt him. He asked if she was alright, but her greatest fear was alive and occurring; he was afraid of her, even though he wanted her. His arousal was clear, yet he held himself a little worried. He wanted to please her, but he couldn't she realised. She would hurt him if she did.
She pulled back from him offering weak apologies. His arousal was fading even with his insistence that he trusted her and loved her, but she knew she would never be able to return what he wished. She offered her excuses and reasons, trying to keep her mind in control over the unreleased urges that had almost found an outlet. He told her he understood and that he was worried for her, they all were apparently. That hurt more than anything else and she pulled her clothes back on with a growing sense of shame that they all pitied her.
She assured him she was fine, but they were clearly weak words and made completely irrelevant by her now obvious distress. She needed space and the open air, so she told him good night and headed for the door.
The hallways of Atlantis were empty with the late hour and she made her way as quickly as she could without drawing attention to her self. She selected the pier along which she had begun to run every day, choosing times which she knew no others would be there; usually in the lateness of night when the stars glowed over the city. She reached the open doorway to the base of the tower and out into the darkening sky. She ran now, across the pier's flat surface, past twisting architecture and artwork towards the far tower set at the end of the pier. The tall staircase was as familiar to her now as her own quarters; this was her refuge. Here she would train at the level she wished and there were many dents and nicks in the walls of the highest furthest room in which she trained with her bladed weapons.
The doorways were open for her allowing her to run straight down the corridors towards that refuge now. The room was wide and open with tall windows and at the far end two doors which opened to the balcony that looked out at the ocean, with none of the city in sight. She opened the doors now and the sea breeze engulfed her and she clutched at the railing in relief. Yet, it did not lessen the fever of her body, of her heart. People feared her, pitied her and she felt trapped in her body as they believed.
She denied the tears that part of her wanted to shed. Part of her wanted to run back down to the pier's edge, to run and pound out her arousal and pain through more exercise, but she didn't want that; she wanted proper release and freedom from all this madness.
His presence suddenly became apparent to her and she was shocked she had not felt him approach, but he was there now behind her. She did not turn, did not want to face him. But, he was stepping closer, his smell dancing among the salt tasting air. She couldn't find the focus to talk, to have to make her excuses and explanations. But, he didn't ask for them. His arms appeared on either side of hers, his hands landing on the railing beside hers and his body warmth was so close to her back that her skin tingled. She looked down with damp eyes to his hands, streaked with blue like hers.
His breath was a rush against her throat, easing up to her ear and she gasped, her eyes closing at the sensation against her super sensitive skin. His body pressed closer and she pressed back, giving in now to what it was that was suddenly happening. Was this a dream? A hallucination brought on by all the madness in her head?
His mouth damp and warm slid down her neck and his tongue licked out over her skin and she arched her back, groaning at the feel of it. His smell surrounded her, so right, so what she had wanted. She could not tell him stop, could not want it nor could she ask him not to satisfy what burned so hotly inside her. Embarrassment and arousal warred inside her, but he pressed himself closer to her and his own arousal was now unavoidably clear to her. His mind thrust against her and she held back for only a moment before she dived into it. His thoughts, hot and needy, reflected her own and she allowed herself to swim in his instinctive drive as she did in hers; at last.
His hands lifted from the railing cupping her breasts and pulling her tighter to him as he sucked on her neck, one of his knees pushing her legs apart. She opened her legs, her head thrown back and she groaned low and loudly, pushing back against his hardness. Cool sea air drifted over her bared breasts, her blue tinged nipples on display for the sea view, and for the first time she gloried in her changes.
He reached down with one hand, down her undulating front to grip the length of her skirts. She released the railing and pulled up the skirts herself and his hand slid up the inside of her leg, the pads of his fingers calloused and arousing her to even greater heights. She reached back to his hips pressed against her backside and pulled forcefully downwards. The material loosened and fell from his hips and he pushed her forward and pulled at her underwear. His fingers pushed her higher and she reached for the railing again, growling now in growing desire and satisfaction. This was what she had wanted.
He thrust into her abruptly and she thrust back and he growled loudly into her throat, pulling her chin round to kiss her. He tasted just as she wanted him to and they both penetrated each other's mouths with need and touches of dominance. She dug her nails into one of his hands and felt him twitch at the sensation. He flexed his hips against her and she broke the kiss to take his thrusts. Gripping the railing she opened her eyes to the sea view growing darker as the sun set; her favourite time of night.
He nuzzled into her throat, knowing somehow the places now where she was most sensitive and she ground back against him. He pushed harder into her, and she pushed back harder, allowing herself to moan, groan and growl as she wished. She let the demon inside out, let it play in the night, let herself claw at him, demand of him and relish in pure sensation. The power built in her belly, glorying out into her body, filling her arms and legs with warmth and pleasure. She dug her hand into one of his hips, as his hands moved over her, cupping her breast and dancing over her hips and backside. She gave out the loudest cry as she found her climax; a cry she had never heard from any creature and she recognised it as unique to what she now was, what they were.
His arms tightened around her as she shuddered against him and he bit her neck before he folder her forward and cried out himself, echoing her call into the sea air. In that moment they were what they were; two of a kind, alone in a universe that held all varieties of life. His body pressed tightly to hers as he released himself into her, holding her tightly, possessively to him, his breathing loud in her ear.
The heat and overwhelming demon that had plagued her lifted and disappeared as she truly relaxed for the first time in over a year. Her body, hummed not just with pleasure, but with acceptance. For the first time she loved what she was now, what she had to accept. She saw now how much she had fought what she felt and now having embraced it so thoroughly in one regard she knew that it was not a demon, but a new part of her that she had to accept.
She rested her head forward onto her hands on the railing, her body cooling rapidly in the sea air. John's body rested over her, his body cooling as was hers and she felt his mind returning to him, as hers was to her. The instincts and animal truths began to fade, satisfied as they were now, to allow the cold truth of who she was to return.
She closed her eyes feeling the last moments of absolute relaxation fade leaving her body relaxed, but her mind clear and she felt regret now. She felt John moving from her, his body detaching from her, his mind leaving hers as she pulled from his. She felt embarrassment now, yet she would not deny what had happened. He dropped her skirts from his hands, the fabric covering her legs against the air again. She reached down and pulled up the neckline of her top covering herself once again. She did not want to face what John would, she was not ready to turn to him and talk about this. She had only just found her centre again for the first time in over a year.
His hands slid up her slides, the touch affectionate, but light. His breath warm over her ear again and she opened her eyes to the sea view through the railings. His lips touched against her cheek, gentle and undemanding. She understood his meaning and she reached for his hand on her side and squeezed his fingers, thanking him for what he had done, for what they had shared. He withdrew, his warmth leaving with him and she heard him walking quietly away from her refuge.
She looked out at the vast sea and processed what she now knew. He had been right; she needed to accept and feel this other side of her and he had helped her. And perhaps, as she brushed against his mind as he left the tower, she had helped him as well.
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