Author:
Beta: shaddyr
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Sheppard/Teyla
Rating: NC17
Setting: Post-"Common Ground"
Words: 1386
Prompt: Stargate: Atlantis, Teyla/John: candlewax - make me forget
Summary: Teyla is not patient when it comes to John.
Teyla is not patient when it comes to John. Her fingertips itch while she waits for Carson to finish examining him. Her arms are tightly crossed against her chest as she stands in her room, thinking of John's face as they rescued him from the planet.
Kolya had fed John to a Wraith. He'd taken what was hers. As Teyla watched the life being sucked from John, she'd sworn revenge, a painful revenge. One that Kolya would never see coming.
But now John's busy being molested by clumsy nurses and debriefed by Elizabeth. Teyla can forgive Elizabeth for her decisions. Teyla's thankful she was not the one faced with that choice.
"Teyla," John had said only her name when he'd seen her -- his eyes dark and hungry.
Teyla had only nodded, seeing nothing except John's eyes. He was still alive.
She is resentful toward Kolya and the deception of the Genii, whom she once thought of as friends. She is resentful, resentful toward the Wraith. They took her entire family, tried to wipe out her people, and now they attempted to take her lover.
Teyla is preparing to welcome John home, to remind him of everything he has here. She grabs a spare sheet and drapes it over her bed. Her candles are already lit and flicker when she turns at the familiar swish of the door and the sound of John's footfalls.
He is quiet. Teyla finds that John often talks and says nothing. She prefers silence over nothing. John is also obedient. He begins to strip as soon as the door's lock engages.
Teyla inspects his body for changes. She searches for the hand print of the Wraith across his chest, looks for more silver creeping into his chest hair, explores the crow's feet near his eyes. Teyla shakes her head. Rodney may be right in that John appears younger than when he left; but she knows this body well enough to see the Wraith simply returned to John what he'd taken, nothing more.
John's eyes never leave her face. He whispers her name as she places a small kiss on his lips. She feels the craving for more in both of them. Teyla wraps her arm around his shoulders and pulls him to her body. She hears his heart pounding as they hug. He relaxes, yet anticipates what is to come.
Teyla's hands are on his body, palms flat against his chest. Her grip is strong as she touches what is hers. If there are marks left on John's body, they will be from her, not from Wraith, not from the Genni.
John finches and moans as Teyla's nails dig into his torso and then along the sides of his thighs, over his hips, and across to his ass. Thin stripes of red appear, and Teyla lightly smacks them so they turn out brighter than before.
Her nail scrapes over his nipple. She pinches it as her other hand reaches for his cock. He moans louder and pushes into her hand. Teyla remembers the first time she took John to her bed, how stubborn he was, how she had to tug his nipple ruthlessly and pull him back by his unruly hair. Then and only then, did he agree that his cock, like the rest of his body, was hers.
Now John submits to her will.
Teyla's hand on the back of his neck guides him to the bed. He sinks to his knees and then lies down on his stomach.
She settles herself over him, her skirt flowing out like a river over him. His back is a clear, untouched land of cascading muscles and sinew. She will mark this too. "You are beautiful," she tells him, while trailing her nail down along his spine. She does not wear underwear so he can feel how much she wants him.
"Thank you." John arches up as Teyla presses kisses to his shoulders and lets her tongue follow where her nails had been.
She reaches for the long, slender candle. Holding it high over him, she lets it drip. John hisses with the pain. Teyla lowers it. Drip. John gives her a small fuck. Another drip, another whimper. "Make me forget," he whispers.
"What was that?" Teyla moves the candle to his right side. "I did not hear you, John."
"Make me forget," he says through gritted teeth.
Teyla nods. "You are lucky to have someone who will indulge your need. You will forget, and I will remake you into mine." She grabs the hair at the nape of his neck and pushes his head into the pillows. Wax falls higher, closer to her hand.
John curses and tries to move. So she does it just an inch lower. And then another inch.
Teyla looses herself in the patterns of white wax gathering over John's skin. She touches the smooth and pliable bits encrusted on him. She creates her name, slowly and surely. She builds the spires of Atlantis in only a way she could recognize. John: decorated for her, wriggling and cursing for her.
Teyla places the candle back in its holder. She reaches for the standard military issue knife from the pile of John's personal items on the table. The things men carry in their pockets can tell so much about who they are.
She stretches John's covered skin between her fingers and begins to remove the wax. Little curls falls from his body. She is diligent and careful not to cut into him. Not too deep anyway. It is impossible to remove all the wax, but she'll take off as much as she can find, as much as she has the patience for.
When Teyla is done, she reaches for a cloth and her spray bottle of alcohol. She listens to John cry out in pain once more from the cold and the burn of the antiseptic. All the tiny cuts flare up in attention.
Teyla lets John rest a moment before moving into her arms. She caresses his face with her fingertips and lets him lie against her. Teyla kisses him, opening her mouth just a little more as he responds and kisses her back. "Help me remove this," she says between kisses.
John undoes the lacings on her shirt, her breasts spilling out to their freedom. His mouth moves to her neck and she giggles. Her laughter comes in waves as his tongue dips down and over her collarbone.
"I want you," Teyla says. Her face flushes in need, hands pawing at his still sensitive back. "I want you inside of me, now."
John knows better than to hesitate or spend too much time fumbling with a condom. As he pushes inside of her, she digs into his back and pulls upward. "Oh, fuck," he groans.
Teyla wraps her legs around him and pulls him closer to her. She finds at these moments she cannot seem to be close enough to him and that she prefers some of his weight against her -- to feel him even more.
She blindly gropes toward her nightstand as she kisses him and then hands him her blue vibrator. The one he bought her last time he went back to Earth. She lets out a wild groan as he rolls it over her clit. "Yes."
John thrusts harder and faster. He wants to give Teyla her release so he can have his. His supporting arm flexes and Teyla shifts to bite his shoulder break his rhythm. He falls against her, the vibrator tumbling from between them.
"You are going to have to do something about that," Teyla says. Her tone is light, but there's a clear warning beneath the surface.
John undoes her skirt as he slinks down her body, mouth hungry for her cunt. He only lets go to pull the material from under her.
Teyla closes her eyes. She lets go to the touch of his tongue and his fingers. Her back arches as she comes, and over-sensitized, her body twists away from his mouth. She rolls onto her stomach and moves onto all fours. "More. Fuck me."
And he does. John surrenders to her. He is hers and no one else's.