Author's notes: What was supposed to be a simple UST John/Teyla fic turned into an all-out smut session – my first smut story ever! A Valentine's Day present to all my fellow Sheyla fans!
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis. I just like to play in MGM's creative sandbox from time to time.
Tease
"Good God, Teyla. How much longer are you going to take?"
Teyla poked her dark head out the dressing room door, an exasperated expression on her face.
"You are the one who suggested this, Colonel Sheppard," she reminded, flicking a piece of hair out of her eyes. "You said that I needed some suitable clothing."
"I know, but you didn't need to try on every outfit in Colorado Springs," John snapped grumpily, leaning back in the uncomfortable wicker chair. "This is even worse than the time I imagined our shopping trip."
Her eyes narrowed and, just as she opened her mouth to respond, the ditzy sales girl came back holding even more clothes. Teyla's face lit up in delight, John resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall, and the little sales devil giggled fiendishly as she reminded Teyla to holler if she needed anything else. She shot John a dirty look as she scurried back to her desk in the ninth level of Hell.
"Just how much of the SGC's budget will we be spending here today, Teyla?" he asked, eyeing the colorful mountain of satins and sequins in her arms.
"You did not have to come along, as you well know," she responded, gracefully closing the door with her foot. "Dr. Weir offered to come in your place."
John scoffed at that idea. As if he would let the two of them wander around Colorado Springs alone with all those horny college boys swarming around. That set off plenty of alarms in John's head, never mind the fact that Teyla could kick any man's ass better than he could.
John had been this close to giving a couple of them a nice knuckle sandwich when he caught them staring at Teyla's ass. Next time they went out in public, he was going to remind Teyla not to wear such tight jeans.
"I wouldn't have come along if I had known we'd spend half the day in clothing stores," he lied.
She sighed and John heard the telltale rustle of clothing sliding off and plopping to the floor. It was a sign of how far gone he was that that sound no longer excited him in the slightest.
"I only need one more dress and I will be finished."
"Good," he muttered sullenly, settling deeper into the chair. He could feel a headache coming on and he closed his eyes. The sooner they got out of here, the better.
Her door opened a few minutes later and John cracked an eye open.
Teyla stepped out in a demure yellow dress that accented her curves nicely. She looked good in that color and the neckline was flattering without being too revealing. The hem ended just above her ankles, revealing her bare ankles and wiggling toes.
Satisfied with his initial response, she walked to the three-way, full-length mirrors beside him. She'd watched the other women in the first store they had visited and picked up on proper Earth dressing room habits instantly. John wasn't sure this was a good thing – the last thing he need was Teyla running around the gate room with a celery stalk and whining about how her flak jacket made her look fat.
"What's the occasion?" John asked, scrutinizing her as she preened.
"Dinner with your President," she responded, piling her hair on top of her head and holding it there experimentally. "That is what Elizabeth told me this morning."
He wrinkled his nose and then shook his head.
"You'd freeze, wearing that in D.C. in February. Besides, Elizabeth would kill me if I let you wear that to the White House. Too casual."
"I think we have spent the entire day in shops because you are being picky," Teyla remarked, glancing at him. A few wisps of hair fell from her grasp, framing her face innocently.
"Trust me. I'm not enjoying this experience one bit."
Teyla stared at him for a long moment, delicate finger pressed in thought against her lips. Her expression was unreadable as she let her hair down and turned back to the dressing room.
She took an unprecedented amount of time to try on her next dress – John was sure she only did it to spite him. Patience finally at an end and temples pounding, he got up and rapped on the door.
"Teyla, we don't have all – "
Her door opened under his fingers and he stepped aside. The first thing John noticed was the new dress was its color – vivid blue, like the midday sky above Atlantis. It was a striking contrast to the dusky color of her skin.
Then he noticed the rest of the dress.
Or the lack thereof.
John's mouth went dry and he fell back against the doorjamb, headache forgotten.
Everything about the dress was indecent, from the neckline that plunged all the way to Teyla's belly button to the thigh high slit up the side. The front of the dress tied behind her neck and when she turned in the doorway for him, John discovered the dress was backless too. Heat pooled in his stomach as he drank up the sight of her.
"How about this one, John?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. She had put her hair up, exposing her long neck to his hungry gaze. She was a goddess.
John's response sounded something rather like, "Ghunk?"
Teyla turned around, placed her hands on her hips, and pouted. John stared at her protruding lower lip in fascination
When the hell did Teyla learn to pout?
"That's…That's not exactly White House material," he said at last, his voice cracking. "Too much…"
Breasts. Skin. Sex.
He waved his hand, hoping she got the general idea.
"So you do not like it?" she sighed, running her hands down her bare sides. John felt his jeans get a bit more uncomfortable as he watched her fingers slide tantalizingly under the fabric near her waist.
Fuck.
Was she trying to drive him insane?
"Oh, I like it," John assured her before he could stop himself. "Of course I like it. Why wouldn't I like it? I just don't think the President would like it, that's all. And Elizabeth. Elizabeth would definitely not like it."
Teyla approached him as he babbled, and he knew his face and the carpet would be having a very personal meeting in just a few seconds. Instead of decking him, however, Teyla reached for the collar of his shirt and began to fiddle with the first button experimentally.
John found it increasingly difficult to make eye contact with her when he could see down the front of her dress.
"We could always say it is my people's traditional dress," she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She undid a few of his buttons and smoothed out his shirt, her touch lighting his nerves afire. "Elizabeth does not know all of our customs."
"Somehow I don't think she'll buy that," he replied, fingering for a strand of her hair. "Teyla…"
He leaned in to kiss her but she had other ideas. She flitted out of his grasp and stepped back inside her dressing room, wagging a finger at him.
"I am sorry Colonel, but I have many more gowns to try on," she said, unapologetically throwing his words back in face. "If you wish to return to the SGC in a timely manner, I must finish with them."
Fuck trying on any more clothes. John Sheppard wanted Teyla Emmagan and he wanted her now.
She slammed the dressing room door in his face.
He cursed under his breath and banged the back of his head against the wall. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to purge the image of Teyla in that dress from his mind before his overactive imagination ran even further with it.
"How're things going in here?"
The little sales devil poked her head into the room and John glowered at her. She was the last thing he needed when he was frustrated and semi-aroused.
"Fine. Just fine." He growled, grimacing.
"That's great! I found a few stilettos that'll match those dresses, especially that little black number I picked out!" The sales fiend hurried over to him and dumped three shoeboxes into his arms. "That should do you for now. Call me if you need anything!"
She said all this in an excited burst of breath and John didn't catch half of what she said until she had scurried away again. What was that about a little black dress?
The door opened behind him again and he turned.
He dropped the shoeboxes.
Oh, dear God…
Why could he never see these things coming?
Teyla was leaning provocatively against the doorjamb, dressed in only what could be 'the little black number.' The black mini dress clung to her like a second skin, emphasizing her every curve. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of her top and the hint of pink lace under the bottom of her skirt's incredibly short hem made his blood boil.
"Is this suitable, John?" she asked, twirling a piece of her mussed hair around her finger coyly.
"No," he breathed, reaching for her.
She did not stop him this time when he crushed his lips to hers. She welcomed him, returning the kiss with just as much fervor and want. She grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into her little cubicle – John barely remembered to slam the door shut behind him – until her back was against the wall and he was flush against her.
She tasted like honey and John drank from her like a dying man, fast and unrepentant. Her lips were soft and pliant; tongue wicked. Teyla made sure he knew she wanted it this time.
Her hands were already at work, pulling his shirt out of his jeans and up, until he was naked from the waist up except for his dangling dog tags. They broke apart briefly, before he was kissing her again, hard. He sucked on the bottom of her lip and slid her skirt up to her hips, hands stroking her skin.
"Tease," he panted, licking a frantic line down her neck. She arched into him as his hand glided to apex of her thighs, stroking her there. Her fingers curled around his tags desperately and hauled him back up to her lips. "Why the hell didn't we do this sooner?"
"No time, no privacy, no…" she trailed off in a whimper. He loved it when he made her lose her composure. His fingers found her hot, wet, and aching under her panties, and he slipped a finger inside of her. "Oh God, John."
He stirred her into a frenzy, until she was trembling, thrashing, and biting her lip to keep from crying out. He pressed a rough finger against her clit and with a small whine, she came so hard that she pulled his tags off. His neck stung but it was nothing compared to the throbbing ache in his groin or the pure male satisfaction welling in him at the sight of post-orgasmic Teyla.
Her chest heaving and cheeks stained a dusty red, she held up his tags with an impish grin. God, she was beautiful.
"Whoops?"
"Keep 'em," he muttered huskily. "Not supposed to take them off – ever – but I can always say I lost them. In battle with the Wraith. Yeah, that's good. And it's not like I can't get another – Oh, fuck."
"You are talking too much," Teyla reprimanded, grinding into him. Her eyes were dark and wicked with desire; her hands found their way into his jeans and caressed him over the thin material of his boxers.
"Way too much talking," John agreed stupidly, closing his eyes in pleasure. He buried his face her neck, suppressing a heady groan as she pushed his boxers down and gripped him in her hand. She moved over him, his tags around her wrist clinking rhythmically as her motions became faster and faster and –
"Right," he hissed, catching her wrist and stilling her. She looked up, eyes smoldering. "Enough of that, otherwise…"
"You will not be able to keep up," she responded teasingly, running a finger down the length of his torso.
John's eyes narrowed. He'd show her who couldn't keep up.
He grabbed her below the thighs and hoisted her up – she took her cue and wrapped her legs around his hips. She ground into him again and he barely suppressed a feral growl. She gasped when he ripped her panties away from her and covered her mouth with his when he slid into her.
John groaned low in his throat, loving the feel of her around him. Teyla made an equally satisfied noise, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he thrust into her again and again.
There was a myriad of sensations for him to process – the silk of her dress rubbing against his skin, her sultry moans in his ear, her inner muscles flexing and contracting around him as he brought them closer to the edge.
Teyla arched into him and John's senses exploded.
He leaned against her forehead in an Athosian-like manner, panting heavily from his climax. She was quivering in his arms – her hands trembled as they threaded through his hair.
"We…we need to do this a lot more often," he said hoarsely.
Teyla nodded eagerly. Although she had held back the majority of her cries, the pleased look in her eyes told him all he needed to know and feed his ego enormously. Who couldn't keep up now, Teyla?
After they both started getting uncomfortable and stiff, he set her down and straightened her dress for her, feathering her skin with light kisses. She sagged into him, tugging his jeans into place languorously. She placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"Are you enjoying yourself now?" she asked smugly, satisfied that her diabolic scheme of seduction had worked perfectly. "Because I still have to find one more dress and there are many more to try on."
"Tease," John murmured affectionately, leaning in for another kiss.
Later, when they were finally finished and at the register, John couldn't keep his hands and eyes off of her.
"Your hair's falling out," he said, reaching to brush the offending strand behind her ear.
She slapped his hand away and glared at him playfully. His dog tags glimmered around her neck, the chain disappearing down the front of her shirt and between her breasts.
John couldn't wait to beat up on the first guy he caught staring at her chest.
"That'll be $705.50, please," the sales girl interrupted, her voice alarmingly high.
John tore his eyes away from Teyla and dug out his wallet from his back pocket.
As she took John's credit card from him, the only sign the sales girl ever gave regarding their dressing room activities was a furious blush and a twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Little Black Dress: $150
Full Length Evening Gown: $475
Matching Pair of Stilettos: $75
John Sheppard enjoying a shopping trip with Teyla Emmagan: Priceless.
Reviews are nice and appreciated!