NOTES: 'Stages of Love' challenge: Passion
Elemental
In the balanced silence before they move, John hears his heartbeat and hers. But the only thing he sees is her face and the soft darkness of her eyes watching him back.
Then he knocks on her staff with his own and the silence is split like a ripe peach, rent by the whistling passage of wood through air and the musical clash of their staves.
Adrenaline rushes through him, elemental as fire.
His mouth is hungry on hers and she returns the kiss with an intensity that boils his blood and sets his skin to goosebumps. His shirt is wrenched off, tossed somewhere on the dark floor and her hands rake down his sides, fingertips digging beneath the waistband of his fatigue pants.
No quarter is asked and none given in these sessions. John gives it everything he has, and Teyla matches him with all she has to give. There's a perfection in the fury of their blows that resonates within him; balls to bones, fiercely visceral, brutal and wild.
He would never give it up.
His kisses leave marks on her tanned skin, like a brand, marking her as his. Her nails dig into his skin, returning possession. Flesh drags against flesh as they grapple with mouth and hand, arm and thigh - molten movement, salt-slick. She arches as he takes her and he hopes she feels the ferocity of the connection between them, too.
Slap and slam, trap and strike, they sway and twist, dancing in and out of each other's range in a choreography that is as much instinct as training. He has the strength but she has the instincts as well, and her skills are honed on survival.
John knows he can't beat her. He's never yet managed to take her out while she's fit, hale, and healthy - and when he's just himself.
That doesn't stop him from trying.
Each thrust is a revelation, his hands cradling her body as her hands splay across his chest, and they rock together in exquisite motion, mouths curving in pleasure given and pleasure received as heat turns to blinding flame, incandescent sensation pouring through them both with cries that are muffled against warm, willing lips.
Defeat may be inevitable, but John never lets it stop him from hoping. He accepts her hand up with a warm, glittering smile, allowing himself the intoxication of her close presence for a moment.
Then she turns away.
In the moments after orgasm, she's slumbrous and sexier than ever, lying bonelessly against him in the bed. John savours these moments - they never last as long as he'd like.
Passion burns him, elemental as fire.
- fin -