Title: Something Else
Summary: AU. He can't explain it because he looks the same, as does she. But she's different – and so is he.
Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan
Characters: John, Teyla [Kanan, Carson
Spoilers: Kindred pt 1 & 2.
Rating: M-MA/NC-17
Notes: I don't know what this fic is, or where it came from. It probably stems from all the Bug!Shepp stories I read last night. It's AU, set after Kindred and assumes that Michael not only tampered with the Athosians but John as well. Enjoy... if you can.
This, he thinks, is a side of Teyla he could really get into.
He's never seen her so carefree or happy, the sadness of the past few months washing away with the rain that falls onto her lithe body as she spins around and around and around in a vast field on her people's new home world. Instead of mourning the deaths of those who had been lost, Teyla had ordered them to celebrate their lives.
It was something they'd all did, easily.
Some, like Teyla, had experienced losses unlike the others. Wounds so deep that she allowed no one to see them, not even John. He didn't like that she hid a part of herself from him; she never had, not until the past year. He wondered what had gone wrong between them in that time where she'd sought refuge with one of her own people instead of with him. He didn't blame her for seeking comfort in a way that they wouldn't allow each other to do.
When her people had been, they'd changed again, their relationship changing again. He'd felt closer to her in those months than he had ever felt to anyone, even his own ex-wife. He didn't know what that meant but he'd known she'd needed someone and he'd been that someone before – and he would be again.
He'd been surprised when she had invited him to the celebration of life on her people's new world; he'd considered turning her offer down and he certainly would have if Ronon and Rodney hadn't told him in no uncertain terms that he was going.
They'd been among the first to retire once the first smattering of rain had descended upon the camp. More followed when the droplets came down heavier and fatter, drenching everything in their path. He'd been about to follow them indoors when he'd seen her drift through the forest to the side and he'd felt the call to follow her.
He grunts at that. The call. It's what he's been calling the animalistic desire to follow her, ever since he'd changed from human to something else – Iratus. He doesn't like to ponder on what it means that he's only ever felt it with her.
He knows she knows he is watching her. She knows he knows her well enough to let her have this child-like pleasure. There's something primal about watching her from the edges of a forest, hidden by the darkness of the hovering trees, as she dances for him in the rain. And he knows she is dancing for him because he's seen her cast lingering stares in her direction.
There is sensuality in the rain that John has never experienced before and instead of cooling his skin down, the icy water only serves to ignite fire in him. Before he'd followed her out here, he'd been tired – exhausted even – but now he can't bring himself to even blink in fear that the creature before him will be gone.
The fact that she's been drinking isn't part of the equation.
He's not been but still he wants her – more than he ever has; Iratus, human, jealous, man – none of it compares to her sensuality, her femininity, the call she's sending his way. He's never felt it so heightened as it is now and he wonders if Michael's experiments changed them beyond what Carson's could repair.
He wonders if she shares it with him.
She stills as though she has sensed his change in demeanour as the jealousy surges through him unbidden. He watches, abated, as she turns to him slowly, dangerously. He blinks and when he opens his eyes he finds hers staring into his across the distance, fierce and disarming and warm.
He can't help but move towards her, his feet listening to his heart rather than his head. Though at this moment, he's sure they both want the same thing. Right now, he's not exactly John Sheppard and she's not exactly Teyla Emmagan. He can't explain it because he looks the same, as does she. But she's different – and so is he.
He wonders why it has taken so long for him to realise it.
Slowly his hand rises to her face, swiping at the water dripping down her jaw to her neck and his other rests on her waist. She doesn't release his eyes and he can feel the heat from her soaked body seeping into his, despite the distance that is still between them. His fingers burn into her skin as her eyes bore into his.
Her lips are fierce against his and he can't help but wonder at the soothing quality of it. There's nothing loving about it but he can sense the emotion behind it. Her guttural moan reverberates down his spine and he tugs her closer to him, his arms sliding easily around her waist, one moving to cup her butt, the other sliding up her side, tracing her curvaceous breast, sliding over her already hardened nipple. She gasps into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to tear his lips from hers and attack her neck with a ferocity that leaves marks. He doesn't care that others will see it – that he'll see it because she's his and he wants them all to know it. She arches into him, her hips undulating into his hard desire for her.
It is his turn to growl as her hands slide down his neck, her lips following and sucking leaving her own marks of ownership. He knows he should be bothered by the ferocity of her attack on his body; by how out of character it is but he can't. The Iratus in him has connected to her and it needs fed. He's not felt like this since he pinned her to the wall of the gym and he's been sure the Iratus had been erased. He never thought he'd be glad of Michael's experiments but if the things he's feeling are a result of his manipulations, he's glad he was experimented on.
His name is a feral growl on her lips, emanating from deep in her throat and he pushes her urges her back, his body following closely, pressing to hers as his tongue intimates exactly what it is he wants to do to her but there is nothing behind to support her weight and he growls. She grins as her fingers find their way under his shirt and tug it up over his head. The rain against his skin sets his nerve ends alight and he arches away from them into her supple body. She grips his wrists in her hands but she doesn't have to urge them to where she wants them. She fights him as he tries to move away but mewls in appreciation when he ducks his head and takes a sensitised nipple between his teeth, flicking once, twice, three times with his tongue. The hardness beneath the thing material sends a rush of blood to his already throbbing member and when he feels her hand brush against the side of his face he opens his eyes from their bliss and sees her pawing her other nipple, tweaking it herself.
Growling with sudden erratic jealousy of her hand, he swats it away and takes a step back from her, observing through eyes he isn't quite sure are his own. His breath hitches in his throat as his eyes scour her body, his erection throbs against his trousers when he sees her dark nipples outlined against the wet, light cream dress she wears. He growls again and roughly pulls her to him when she eyes him with her own heavy, desirous stare and he groans loudly when she knocks his balance off and they tumble to the sodden ground, her astride his hips, their want trapped beneath too many layers of clothes.
He fumbles with needy fingers for the edge of her dress as she yanks at his belt and pulls at the zipper of his jeans. He groans when her fingers find their way inside his boxers, his body arches up off the ground as she strokes him once, twice.
He bucks and flips them over, using her momentary confusion to rip the front of her dress and divulge himself on her exposed breasts. Her pants urge him on, as do her hands on his head. He grinds into her hip and can feel the warmth of her wet desire as she undulates against him. He can't stand it anymore and he hastily removes his trousers and pants as she shimmies from her dress. He doesn't hesitate as he covers her body again, slippery from the rain and sweat. He doesn't have to guide himself to her with his hands; his body knows where she is. He tangles his hands in her hair as he slides into her with one powerful thrust and stills as she contracts automatically around her.
Then he looks into her eyes, darker than he remembers, her hair tangled between his fingers, her lips bruised from the power behind their kisses. She's watching him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape, her tongue peaking over the edge of deliciously warm lips. He leans in slowly, only now wishing they were somewhere warmer, drier.
Her hips urge his into motion and it's when she murmurs into his ear that he knows he's John and she's Teyla again. He's slow and gentle this time when he digs his fingers into her hips, draws her body up against his so she's straddling him, her feet planted firmly on the ground beneath them. The position draws him further into her and she rocks languidly against his erection and he nuzzles into her neck, his arms loosely guiding her back and forth.
It's not long before they are frenzied again, though through entirely humanistic desires and she's murmuring his name over and over again as he pounds into her, her name a benediction on his lips as he empties himself inside her quivering walls.
-
He sits straight up, his breathing haggard and he immediately snaps his eyes shut as the bright lights blind his eyes in pain.
"Ah, you're awake."
He opens his eyes and sees Carson walking over to him with a chart attached to his arm. He frowns at him and looks at his surroundings. Gurneys, beds, equipment. He's in the infirmary. He closes his eyes again as pain grips the back of his head as a shiver wracks his body.
Last he remembered, he was happily buried deep inside Teyla... or at least, he thought he was. He groans as he stretches his back and neck as he looks around for Teyla. There's a curtain drawn at the other end of the infirmary and he somehow knows she's behind it. He turns his eyes back to Carson who is reading his chart still. John can sense the Scot's confusion; it lingers in his sense...s.
He jerks his head back to the curtain that Teyla is behind and he can barely keep the snarl contained when he senses him behind the curtain also. The lingering stench of the once hybrid is rotten in John's mind. A destructive possessiveness grips him and he has to hold onto the rails so he doesn't leap from his bed and claim her as his own once more.
"We found you both in the middle of a field on Athosia." John narrows his eyes at the tone in Carson's voice. "It looks like you two have been through the wars." John looks to his arms and notices for the first time the scratches covering his forearm, the first beneath his nails. He smirks; he wonders what his back and shoulders are like. He can feel the bite marks on his neck and the sensation sends blood to places he wants to bury again. He raises his eyes to Carson's heavy gaze but John doesn't say anything and the doctor sighs. "We've still got a few tests to run," Carson says as the curtain at the other end of the infirmary is drawn back. He doesn't need to stare at her long before she turns to him and he can feel her desire for him; can sense it. "But physically, you're fine and I see no reason you can't be released." John hears the words but he's not listening. His senses are tuned into her and he can feel his own desire building for her again, despite the fact that he is there.
'"Does he make you feel like this?" He asks of her as he thrusts into her harshly, like she asked of him. "Does he?" He demands as he stills in his movements. He grins as she shakes her head fervently.
"No," she murmurs. "No!" She says louder as he nips at her neck.
"Say it."
"Only you. It's only you, John."'
She doesn't look at him as she passes but he does and the animal in John snarls at Kanan.
Later, as John stalks from corner to corner in his room, Carson's words echo in his head but John knows that something is different, more alive, no longer dormant and it calls out to her like she calls out to him.
He growls loudly and lashes out at the wall as he imagines her with him.
He's no longer just John Sheppard but something else too.
And he's not sure it's a bad thing.