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Category: Science Fiction / TV Show / Stargate Atlantis
Characters: John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan
Summary: Interlude after my fic Dark Matter and Atlantis Episode 306: The Real World. Great fears have been put to rest. A friend recalls a difficult choice made by another and a gift that is treasured beyond words. Teyla remembers that life is short. She has waited long enough.
Genre: Romance
Pairing: John and Teyla
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: This interlude is for entertainment purposes only, so enjoy. I don't own the Stargate Atlantis universe or its characters. Stargate Atlantis is owned by MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc.
Teyla remembers the place, the late afternoon sun, the wide open panels, the voice of the wind singing through her room. Last night the machine virus fled Elizabeth's body. John is out of quarantine. A night and a morning has passed and all is well.
She remembers calling his name. Nothing was easier. She remembers the way he suddenly looked up, his eyes changing in the sunlight, seeking hers.
The wind sweeps between them, cool and dry. The room door is closed. They are alone.
It could end tomorrow, she tells him. It could end tonight.
In her world there are customs, rules, and she lives by them.
"What laws do you live by, John Sheppard?"
He is speechless, understanding. She sees the knowing in the way his body settles, and in the way he gazes at her. He hesitates, and then swallows, as though he cannot speak. It makes her want to laugh and bring him closer. It makes her want to be the strong one, if only for an instant, so that she can lay aside her strength, draw his arms around her, and feel what it was like to meet him in that place that lovers know.
Her breath came very quickly. He smelled of the ocean, and of somehing else, a strong male scent that made her want to lean into him.
"We think so often of others," she said, "and what is right for them. I honor the laws of my father but if I died tomorrow, what gifts would I take with me into the next place? Why is it we are still apart?"
He did not answer except to kiss her. His mouth was wide and deep and that was because his lips had parted and his spirit was calling for her to let him in, let him in. Her heart leaped like a fish through the bright sparkle of sun-warmed water. She let him in and he kissed her harder, sweeping his arm around her back and the tangle of her hair.
This is like a dance, she thought. And he knows already how to dance the steps.
She twined her fingers behind the column of his neck and only pulled her mouth from his to gasp when their limbs struck the bed platform.
She would have fallen like a boneless thing but his strength enveloped her, guiding them downward, downward.
The rest went in a dizzying spiral of sensation. The cool salt-brushed air found her skin. She shimmied when he pulled at her shirt. Her arms snapped free, and then his hands paused with only the slightest pressure, both of them, on her belly. She looked up into his face, his beautiful, symmetrical face, surprised to find concentration sewn into his brow, the muscles slowly sliding along his neck as though he were fighting or swimming. One hand met her rib cage, the tips of his fingers gently probing. He went higher. Such warm, astonishing warmth. He barely touched her now but both hands were tracing the smallest, gentlest circles. She could not contain her gasps any longer.
He swept up his T-shirt, cast it aside. Was that a scar or a bruise? Garments rustled, cloth against cloth, then cloth against skin. Some freedom at last. His knees were cool against her legs. The sensation was not unexpected but the way it fed the fire at the core of her belly hollowed her throat and startled her. As though he sensed the hunger building there, he kissed her right below her ribs. How was something so tender to be endured? When he straighted she reached for him. He must come closer, he must ...
He sank down. He did everything and never wondered why she knew so little. He began rather quickly but in a moment slowed down, as though he knew ... he knew ... We are falling into the sun. But they were not. He stayed with her now, gently, gently, taking his time, looking to her now and then to make sure of her comfort. He had kissed her deeply in the beginning but now he only brushed her lips. When his passion troubled him he put his cheek to her neck and groaned. Like a bud ripening on a tree, she began to feel the fruit of their coupling. Then a wave leaped inside her belly, and she cried out. Another was behind it, larger than the first. She cried out again. He rose up above her. She pressed upward with her hips, her back, as though nothing was more natural, calling him homeward. He smiled a little. His face was damp but his smile was soft and shining. He went on from there without her, and after he finished rolled quietly to his back.
She remembers hearing in a little while the voice of the ocean climbing over the rhythm of his breathing. She remembers his chest rising and falling, the perfect joy of this vision, the long, lean length of him beside her, still so warm, so alive. She rises up to kiss him and he traces her cheek with the back of his fingers, catching her eye. She remembers the dancing light behind his gaze, and the calm that smoothes his features and throws itself over her.
You have no idea, he says.
I think that I do, she answers.
He wraps his arms around her tightly, tightly, laughing a little. She laughs too, and then settles against him to listen peacefully to the sound of his heart.
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