Title: Spoiled
Summary: The only thing ruined is him.
Characters: John & Teyla
Pairing: John/Teyla
Rating: M. M. M. M. (for the secks)
He knows that this is wrong. He knows that as he pushes her against the wall that he should stop. But he doesn't. He can't. She's intoxicated him, drowned him with her womanly scent and he is floundering on the edge of control. A control that's quickly diminishing with every moan of pleasure coming from her throat.
When she spins them and half drags him to her bed, he knows that he's a goner. He knows there's no point pretending to resist because as much as he knows he should, he really, really doesn't want to. He'd tried to stop her – he'd murmured a few half-protestations here and there as her tongue had delved into his mouth, as her hands stroked his body into a fiery frenzy that made him so completely unable to resist.
Damn the woman knew how to get to him.
She pushes him back and he lands, so completely ungracefully on the bed, a soft "thrump" following his ungentle landing. She doesn't hesitate in straddling his hips, her face hovering over his as though inspecting him. Her warm breath teases his lips and he arches his back, trying for leverage but she has him beat and she knows it. She smirks down at him, her hair falling in a curtain and his face and he finds the touch of her soft hair on his skin to be more pleasurable than he could ever possibly have imagined.
In a flurry of movement, she's clamoured off of him and is gracing the end of the bed with her presence, her fingers deftly working on the ties of her top, her skirt already partially gone from where his fingers had torn at one of the fine panels. He's mesmerised, his tongue teasing his lips as it peaks out, his lip wishing the tongue were Teyla's. He groans when her top is on the floor and she is naked to his eye and it is a sight he knows he will dream about for the rest of his life.
She is beautifully curvaceous, supple body so tantalising that his fingers tingle at the thought of touching it. She eyes him with her dark, dark eyes, setting something alight inside of him and it burns for her so completely that he feels like he might just melt right there on her bed if she doesn't hurry and come to him.
"Off," she commands and John can feel the muscles in his groin twitching at her tone. He groans lightly in the back of his throat when she reaches for the waistband of her skirt and he pauses, mid-lowering zip to watch. But she's having none of it and she too stops and watches him. John's pretty sure he's never been this turned on in his life before – ever. "Off."
This time, he doesn't hesitate and he can hear the black tee shirt tear as he struggles to manoeuvre it over his head. He doesn't care and as he tosses it aside, he catches her eyes and he is stunned into immobility. He's never seen desire like it and he finds himself biting back a primal groan at the knowledge that that look is for him and him alone.
He wastes no more time in removing his trousers and his boxers, he even manages to refrain from reaching out to her when she shimmies out of her skirt, her hips swaying tantalisingly.
"Teyla..." he growls and she looks up at him with a smirk on her face, her eyes alight with a predatorily glee. "Fuck," he manages before he closes his eyes and flops onto his back.
He's never been so ready for anyone and she was making him wait. John Sheppard did not like being teased.
He jerks when her fingers graze his inner thigh and he licks his lips when he feels her breath on his face again. He can feel her heat so agonisingly close to where he really needs to feel it and he'd be damned if he wasn't ready for her. His breath quickens when he can sense her lowering her body over him, can feel her wet warmth teasing his desire for her and it's only when the tip of him is inside of her that he opens his eyes to her lustful face.
"Teyla..." He manages and grips her hips to stop her torturous movements. "This could ruin everything."
He wishes the words sounded more sincere. But if there was any doubt that what they were doing was right, she eradicated it with her next, almost irate words:
"The only thing that will be ruined is this if you keep talking."
He quirks an eyebrow at her and she mirrors it, daring him to tell her to stop. It's the furthest thing from his mind. He reaches up with one hand and pulls her in for a searing kiss, simultaneously thrusting into her with an intensity that had been built on years and years of wanting. They both moan, loudly, together when they join and John wants to savour the moment but she's not for having it.
She's bobbing up and down, her lips latched onto his and he can feel her walls quivering already, highlighting just how much she's been wanting him too. He tweaks a nipple and she tosses her head back, straightening her back, using her arms on his chest as leverage and he can't help but cup her bouncing breasts in his hands, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, can't help but explore the feel of her hips and waist and back and butt and fuck he's so close.
"John..."
She murmurs above him, her head tossed back in pleasure, her eyes closed and John can feel that familiar pressure build up in his gut. He reaches for her clit and she squeals above him, a sound that John knows he will never tire of hearing. Their calls echo around her room and they're thrusting against one another. It's not pretty but it's needy and so full of passion and want that it takes only one, two more thrusts and she's crashing down around him as his world crumbles apart at the edges and the only thing he can think of is her and the feel of her walls sealing him within her body forever.
He can feel her breathing even out long minutes later but she makes no move to get off him, or for him to leave. He waits a few more minutes for his muscles to re-firm before rolling them over and sliding out of her. She smiles lazily up at him, her eyes sleepy and sated. He hovers over her for a moment as her eyes flutter closed. Slowly, he extricates himself from their tangle and moves to the edge of the bed, thoughtful.
He doesn't know if he should leave. Doesn't know if she wants him to stay. He drops his head to his hands and instantly berates himself. He's ruined everything. He's spoiled what they had. And all for the sake of his horny hormones.
He looks back at her over his shoulder, to the slow rise and fall of her chest and he can't help but smirk.
For the sake of her horny hormones.
But it's as he's watching her in the vulnerability of sleep that he realises the only thing ruined is him. She's spoiled him for anyone else.
And he finds that he doesn't want anyone else.
Decided, he slips back into the bed beside her, drawing up the warm Athosian blanket from the bottom of the bed and covering her slumbering form. Gently, he places his arms across her hip and draws her back against him, almost nuzzling into her hair.
As he drifts off to sleep, he only hopes she'll be as horny when she wakes up.