Title: Needs
Summary: He realised none of it changed anything; he still wanted her.
Characters: John & Teyla
Pairing: John/Teyla
Rating: T-M
Notes: Okay, so it has been a while since Wedjatqi and I have partaken in our tag fic but after re-reading her story Needs of the Body and Soul, this little tag wouldn't leave me alone. Inspired by the line "He'd seen her looking at the markings and had told her not to do that anymore", this piece is that scene and hopefully fits perfectly into her story.
They'd been sitting in the recreation room for most of the afternoon and for the most part, he'd held it together. He'd flicked the fifty-two card pack from hand to hand, showing her a few shuffling tricks he'd learned from his time in Vegas and she'd smiled at him before returning to the book that lay in her lap. He'd caught himself watching her from time to time, especially when she had her head down-turned, her fingers flicking the pages as the sun caught her hair, giving it that golden sheen that rivalled his shining blue spots. He'd made himself turn away before she looked up but through their connection he could sense that she knew he was watching her. He didn't know if the primal enjoyment he felt was his or hers but he knew he couldn't let himself ponder on it for too long.
He picked up the magazine he'd discarded earlier and flicked through the pages, barely registering the pictures that flicked by. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Teyla lean forward, the skin on the small of her back revealed by the movement. He licked his lips and felt his mind wander, and he couldn't stop the small smile his thoughts conjured on his lips. She turned to him suddenly then, the water bottle part way to her lips and John could see the surprise in her eyes. He closed his own and felt his cheeks warm; he hated this new ability to blush on the spot but he supposed he deserved it after the thoughts he had been having. She looked away from him without speaking and John was glad. He turned with renewed interest to the magazine in his hands and began reading the article, stopping half way through the first paragraph when he realised it was an article on how to keep a woman happy in bed. Annoyed, he tossed it aside and crossed his arms over his chest in a huff.
He was bored. The whole situation was unfair because he was pretty sure Teyla was bored as well. Usually, he would go to Ronon and demand a sparring match but he really couldn't be very far from Teyla, not on days like this. And he and Teyla had tried to sparring thing a couple of months before, during her cycle, and it took all of his strength not to pin her against the wall and do the things to her he'd been dreaming of doing for months. His body reacted to those thoughts and he groaned, drawing her attention to him but he didn't turn to her. He couldn't. Because if he did, he knew she would see the lust in his eyes, his desire for her and he'd already embarrassed the hell out of himself with his dreams and he really didn't need to add this to his list of ever growing things to be embarrassed about around Teyla.
He could feel her eyes on his neck and he gulped, feeling a thrill rush through him at her attention. He had told himself over and over again that it was a purely biological response he was having to her but there was this tiny part – okay, maybe not so tiny – that really, really wanted her to notice him shaking his tail feathers. That's what his show was all about, wasn't it? He'd been thinking about what Bays had said for some time now, about having sexual relations with her – just once – to see if it would ease the reactions. Even if it did, John knew that just once wouldn't be enough and that he'd still be in a state, that he would still react to her but for entirely different reasons.
He was aware of movement and he could feel her body draw closer to his on the couch, the weight of her stare still heavy on his neck – the shining blue beacons of his attraction to her. He took a breath, held it and released it through his mouth just like she'd taught him to in those first months. He repeated the actions as he felt the briefest brush of her skin against his and knew that it wasn't working. She was too close – both mentally and physically – and he could sense her rapture through their tenuous connection. That thrill went through him again and he bit the inside of his lip to hold in the groan that threatened to escape his lips.
She moved and he reached out and grabbed onto the hand that was reaching for his neck, his weight urging her back to the other side of the sofa. His breath was raspy and he was oh-so very aware of her body pressed against his as he leaned half over her, her eyes wide as they stared up at him – neither confused not surprised, and John's overhyped senses could feel her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips and he was in no doubt that she could feel his pounding heart from where her hand was trapped against his chest. He studied her face, breathing in her scent – so feminine, so Teyla, too much. His body responded but he couldn't bring himself to pull away and he felt his body lean further over her, his grip on her hand releasing and she flattened her palm against his chest. He looked down at the contact, wishing his shirt gone even though he could feel her touch as though she had burned a hole through the thin fabric. Her nails dug into his chest slightly as her fingers tensed on his chest and his eyes rose to meet hers.
She shouldn't be looking at him like that. He'd dreamed about this, this exact moment where she was pinned beneath him on this exact couch, her tongue swirling over the blue marks his body made just for her.
He jumped up and away from her, putting as much distance between them as he could and she scrambled to sit up on the sofa, looking startled by his sudden movements. She wasn't the only one and he was so unbelievably proud of his own will power in that moment that he almost smiled.
"Don't do that," he said forcefully, his voice thick with lingering desire. He met her eyes as she nodded, her lips parting slightly and he had to fight very hard not to take the step back to the sofa and show her exactly what her touch did to him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, looking away from her languid body to the grey wall near the door. "I'm going for a run."
He didn't know if she called his name, couldn't hear anything past the rushing blood in his ears. He didn't bother to stop for his gym gear or his running shoes. He just ran and ran and ran to the end of the pier he called home for one week of the month, and back to the city and back out to the pier again. Running exhausted his body; thinking of mathematical formulae exhausted his mind and when he collapsed onto his bed, sweat pouring down his body he found that none of it made any difference.
He still wanted her.