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Title: Strong Enough
Pairing: Teyla/John
Rating: NC-17
Categories: Established Relationship, sex toys, sexism
Words: 6,198
Warnings: none, I don't think; lemme know.
Beta: em_kellesvig
Summary: A strong woman needs a strong man.
Prompt: Week #158-160: Twist is what I started this for. It went long.
A/N: Gorgeous John/Teyla banner by Shivika.

JohnTeyla-banner-hugging and smiling by Shivika

"Tell me," Teyla asked John once, when they were lying sated on her bed and she knew he was too relaxed to evade her open question. "Why at first did you not wish me on the team when I was pregnant with Torren John?"

She felt his subtle tension beside her, but let him be and gave him time to gather his words.

Finally, he said, "You had to know it wasn't because—I mean, you're the best fighter I've got—"

Teyla let him stutter a while. "Yes, of course I am." That shut him up. "But I still want to know why."

He was silent again for long moments, and she let her fingers trail along his bare hip just above the sheeting.

"I'm responsible for a lot of people here; more than I ever thought I'd be in my life." His voice was low, as if imparting a secret. She shared the same secret in her heart and stopped her teasing to grasp his hand. "I put you guys in danger all the time. And then here was this tiny life...and it was yours, Teyla, and it was your decision, I know that, but it was just too much—I couldn't stand it if—"

She squeezed his hand, giving him permission to cease his halting words.

"John," she said, and rolled over to kiss him, satisfied with his answer.


They sat before the laptop computer in Teyla's quarters, she and John, while Teyla studiously ignored the flood of red rising on John's neck. He'd said it was better this way, less risky than going to the great city beyond the bridge and shopping in their markets. Teyla hadn't openly argued his logic, but she thought his reticence had more to do with the same shame that still tugged at her. The same shame but through the mirror of their experiences and cultures.

But looking now at the screen of the laptop and the items listed, her heart soared at the implied acceptance of what had always been to her a twisted, hidden longing.

This was what she'd been hoping for since the first time John, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, had drawn her fingers down with a trembling hand, down past his cock to between his parted thighs, and her stomach had clenched with an excitement she knew not how to name or express.

John cleared his throat and pointed. "How about that one? Looks kind of—it would suit you, I think."

The sleek lines of a harness curving to fit the waist of the model caught Teyla's eye, and the way the base aligned perfectly with her sex. There were more options, however, and Teyla continued to scroll down. And, oh, this one was cleverly designed to allow an attachment that would fit within her, and also provide her with her own cock thrusting out rudely. She clicked on the image, and John made a sound in his throat.

"Yes. This one, I think," she said, smiling. "Is it very costly?"

"No." John's voice was hoarse.

"Then we shall buy it."


Teyla reached over and squeezed his hand.

She was so lucky.


"I will be late for the meeting," Teyla said, again trying to get her stubborn son into his new shirt. He had decided Earth clothing was entirely unacceptable and balked, all four limbs straightening like uncooperative sticks.

"No shirt!" Torren said, and giggled when Teyla sighed in exasperation.

"John, can you finish dressing him and get him to Selida's for today's care?"


Teyla looked up to see John staring at her, toothbrush stuck in his mouth. She waited impatiently for him to digest her words.

"Uh, okay?"

Shaking her head—she really didn't have time for this—she bent to kiss her ridiculous son, then kissed John on her way out for good measure.

He tasted of mint.


"Now, may I?" she asked breathlessly, and John only nodded, his eyes a little wild as she added another finger, pushing rudely inside him, and he did the same to her, his fingers twisting within her, until it was a race, a race both were hoping to lose.

Afterward, they did their nightly routine, washing up and checking in on Torren before lying abed, both still flushed and heated from excitement, so that Teyla left some room between them to avoid the sticky contact of skin. Still, John's fingers played with the back of her wrist. "You have great hands," he'd said to her, early in their relationship, and she wondered now if he'd been thinking of it even then, of her fingers inside him, of the forbidden games they have played since.

She shivered, and he turned over to kiss her. "How long will it take for the package to arrive?" she asked when he pulled back, and he smiled a little, rueful.

"At least a week or so. Think you can hold out?"

"Oh, we shall manage," she said, and curled up beside him to sleep.


It helped, thinking of the package on its way—wrapped simply in brown packaging, John had promised—when she sat across the table in meeting after meeting with so many negotiators, mostly men with their cool and imperious looks, as if she were doubly to be disregarded for her place of origin and her womanhood.

"I'm sorry," Teyla said, interrupting Ambassador Murray's patronizing address. "Is 'Honey' a diplomatic title? I'm afraid the gate translator won't give me the equivalent."

The man's complexion turned ruddy, and he ceded the floor.

Only the implied power of Atlantis and the people who were its caretakers gave her a seat at this table, she knew, and she continued to speak with that power in her words, watching it echo in the tightening of the men's features. They did not like her words, and that made her smile as she bound them tighter in the silken threads of trade.

But it was tiring, frustrating work, and their scorn was only countered by her thoughts of John, who had never looked through her, who always respected her skills and strength.

He showed it when he joined her that evening in the "dojo," as he called it, where she channeled her resentment into a focused attack, the walls echoing with the sound of their bantos cracking against each other, until he faltered, and wood met flesh, and he yelped and rolled on the mat, trying to evade her blows.

When he came to his feet, he was grinning. "Tough day, I'm guessing."

And, this—this was why her heart bloomed at the sight of him. Whether it was her Wraith gift that gave her added strength, or Tagan's insistence on training her from a young age, or a combination of both, she had always felt set apart from her female peers in wanting to be a better fighter, stronger, faster, more skilled than anyone. And so many Athosian men, including Kanaan, had been bewildered by her, which was why she'd chosen a casual mating with Kanaan.

With John, on the other hand....

"Again, please," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow, and he nodded and smirked.


Torren was talkative and unhappy that evening, having missed her all day, and Teyla found she regretted Kanaan had been unwilling to join Atlantis on its voyage to Earth. He must be worried about them both, and her guilt at their long absence was one reason she pushed so hard at the men with the stone faces.

"Bet he misses his dad, huh?" John said, echoing her thoughts as he sometimes did.

"Yes. But we will soon enough be going home."

"Yeah?" John stroked Torren's hair, but made no move to take him from her; although he seemed to have a similar acceptance to the casual mating pairings her people preferred, he had drawn an arbitrary line when it came to parenting. Teyla didn't understand it. Were not more parents better? Yes, there must be a primary parent responsible, but the Wraith could take anyone at any time.

"Hold him, please. My arms are tired."

John did as she asked, taking Torren in his arms, and she saw the secret smile in his eyes, the fondness he could not hide.

"Hey, there, little man," John said as he turned away. "You're getting pretty big if you're tiring out your mom."

"Lil' man," Torren said, clapping his hands.

Teyla hid her own smile as she went to prepare some food for Torren.

That evening John chose to pleasure her twice with his mouth, something he very much liked to do, although in this instance, with Torren still fidgeting in the other room, Teyla had to muffle her cries in her pillow.

The first time he'd sought to do this, early in their relationship, moving his kisses from her breasts and her nipples to her stomach and below, she'd stopped him, shocked by his direction.

"Sorry," he'd said. "You don't like that?"

"No, our mates don't—" How could she tell him she'd only ever read of this act in the tattered pages of the pleasure novels passed hand-to-hand among the women traders for long wagon rides, the books cleverly bound up with false trading accounts on the front pages and rolled up to be hidden under her seat while she blushed her way to the next outpost. "I would very much like to experience it," she'd said, running her fingers through the dense hair on his neck.

He grinned up at her and then, oh, parted her with his thumbs and stroked her with the flat of his tongue, soft and wet, to suck at her clit with his full lips. She covered her mouth to keep from crying out, pleasure sparking hot as he floated his tongue over her so gently and patiently. It was good, so very good, but she needed something, she knew not what until his fingers slipped inside her, and she clenched hard against the fullness and moaned low in her throat. She went over like that, breathing harshly against her palm. He took her hand down and rose above her to kiss her, and she tasted herself on his lips, on his chin, and her heart squeezed in her chest.

It was nothing like those frayed pages.

Now that John knew her, he played her body like a known instrument, and was even a little rough at times, nibbling at her after her first peak and bringing her to a second, until she was forced to gasp into the pillow and make wordless sounds.

He slid inside her afterward, smooth and unyielding while she was still so slick and tender, and the last shocks of her orgasm made her wrap her legs around him seeking more stimulation. John smiled down into her face, but his mouth was tense, his shoulders straining, and she knew he had been holding himself back for some time.

She urged his pace with her arms, with her legs, and soon sweat began to bead his temples as he rocked her with his thrusts. The feel of him moving between her legs, slick and hard, was very pleasant, although she was too spent to come again. She hooked her ankles lower, sliding them down to his flexing butt muscles, tensing against him there, urging him deeper.

John groaned into her ear. "Teyla. God, Teyla," and pounded hard within her, once, twice, before going still. She listened to the pulse of his body inside.

Always, he stayed for a while like this, just breathing, one of the few, rare times John was quiet within the circle of her arms. She took advantage, wrapping both arms and legs tightly around him for a moment before releasing him.

He pulled away, giving her a kiss on the mouth, his smile rueful as he dealt with their clumsy sheathing device. Teyla still preferred to rely on a familiar root found on most planets in Pegasus.

"What's on the docket for tomorrow?" he asked as he pulled on his T-shirt and shorts and then yanked the sheet from beneath to cover them.

Teyla leaned over to turn off the light. "More nattering of fools. But we are much closer to an agreement. Rodney has helped very much, offering them war toys to appease them. Although he did tell Minister Cosgrove he wasn't sure he could build a gun large enough to satisfy him."

"That's our boy," John said, chuckling. He offered her part of his pillow, and she gladly accepted, curling up beside him to rest her hand on his shoulder.

Torren made a garbled noise from behind his door, and they both tensed until silence reigned.

"I must sleep," Teyla whispered. "Ronon wants to spar early tomorrow."

"G'nite," John yawned.

The last thing Teyla felt was a kiss brushed against her forehead.


Ronon struck hard yet again, nearly jostling the bantos from Teyla hands, but she slid from beneath the blow and countered with a strike of her own before falling back.

"You seem...upset, Ronon." Teyla spun and feinted high with her right and swung low with her left, catching him on his knee, right afterward turning to bring her right elbow back for a jab. Ronon had leaped too late over the swing, adding momentum to her jab and making it a strong blow to his abdomen. He folded into a shoulder roll to get out of range.

"And you are also distracted," she said with satisfaction.

"I'm not distracted. I'm angry," Ronon said, swiping at his forehead with his arm.

"Then we should cease until you are in a better frame of mind," she said. She put both sticks in one hand, signaling a halt.

"I'm good."

"I am not." Teyla walked over to her water and took a sip, then ran her towel over her face and arms. "Tell me why are you angry."

Ronon took a seat and dropped his sticks with uncharacteristic carelessness. "Amelia."

"Ah." Teyla put her hand on his arm, and he leaned into her momentarily.

"She says I'm too impatient about wanting to go home. She wants me to go on trips with her, like this is a vacation." He blew out a frustrated breath. "This isn't a vacation."


"We're fighting to get home. The Wraith are back there, killing, while we sit here just—"

"Yes. We will get home, Ronon."

"Yeah. But I don't like these Earthers' attitudes. They aren't—they don't see things like we do."

"Sometimes that can be a good thing," Teyla said with a small smile, thinking of the previous evening.

"No, it can't." Ronon's voice was hard as winter earth. "They don't understand us. They don't even try to."

"That's not true. Ronon—"

Ronon's lip curled. "I know you think Sheppard's different, and sure, he's a good guy and he's been a good commander, but look at the choices his leaders have made for us, for Atlantis. He hasn't stopped them."

"He does not have—"

"They don't understand us." Ronon crossed his arms.

"Maybe you don't understand me."

Ronon looked shocked.

"I know what I need, Ronon." She had to stop looking at his face for some reason, but she kept her voice strong. "He gives me what I need. He's strong enough to."

"You're right; I don't understand," Ronon said, but he sounded more confused than angry now, and Teyla was glad.

"Tomorrow, same time?" Teyla asked.

Ronon nodded and left her to her thoughts.


The first time she and Kanaan mated was when he was twenty seasons and she but sixteen. Though he was patient, he could not stimulate her sufficiently to bring her to orgasm. He assumed it was because she was innocent, but the next time and the next brought her no closer, and he grew frustrated. She tried to show him how to stimulate her with his fingers, the same way she enjoyed pleasing herself before sleep, but he was offended by the implication his manhood wasn't enough.

Teyla thought it was absurd. His cock wasn't somehow specially designed to please her. Why shouldn't he use his fingers before or after? But when she went to Charin with her questions, she received a tired sigh in answer and much talk that didn't make sense—about the Wraith, and men having little to prove themselves over the years except their small dominion over the bedroom.

Teyla didn't understand what that had to do with giving pleasure, but she dropped her arrangement with Kanaan the next day and went back to sparring in her free time.


"So, sounds like we've got a deal, then," General O'Neill said, cutting off Ambassador Murray and preventing him from blustering himself back into another a tedious round of nitpicking. Teyla thought it was very nicely done and gave the general a nod in thanks. He winked at her very solemnly as he turned to their secretary. "Masterson: you have the details?"

"I'm just getting them cleaned up, General." Masterson was a meticulous note taker; Teyla had yet to find fault with any of his recordings of the trade details, although he insisted on calling them 'minutes.' "Sending them out to all the delegates right now," he said, and lifted his hands from his computer.

Everyone stood and began tidying up, some breaking into groups for farewells.

"I thought that went well," Mr. Woolsey said to Teyla, his voice low. "Seems like we finally have good news to—"

"Ah-ah," O'Neill said, hushing him, and a moment later, Ambassador Murray approached.

"Well, General, it's been a pleasure working with you," Murray said. "Woolsey, you drive a hard bargain, but well done, sir. Well done." He offered his hand to Mr. Woolsey.

Teyla felt her chest heat with anger; Woolsey's eyes slid sideways toward hers in commiseration before he stiffly took Murray's hand.

"Thank you," Woolsey said, his voice distantly polite. "But Ambassador Emmagan did most of the work."

Murray made a scoffing sound and said nothing.

Teyla knew it was nothing more than rotten tava; she'd driven Murray into a corner and he was taking a petty revenge for it by not acknowledging her. What a stupid, tiny man.

"Ma'am, would you mind escorting me out?" O'Neill said. "I hear there's fresh pie in the Atlantis mess."

"Of course, General," Teyla said, taking O'Neill's arm. The two of them departed ahead of the rest of the delegation.

"What a chump," O'Neill said in the elevator. "If we didn't need him to sign off on the final agreement, I would have popped him one for you."

"I assure you, General, I'm quite capable."

"Oh, believe me, I know. I just didn't want you to get blood on your shirt." He flashed her a grin.

She smiled back and let him escort her back to the control room.

John wasn't there, but Major Lorne was, and Teyla gave him a smile and a nod, knowing he would take it as the cue that it was. Almost everyone working in Atlantis today was aware of the significance of the IOC meeting, that the representatives would be negotiating the final agreement on behalf of the IOA. It was all but understood that should such an agreement actually be reached, Atlantis would be flying back to Pegasus.

The excitement rising in her blood was almost enough to overcome the sour vibrations left behind by Murray and his ilk, and the many hours she'd spent being slighted by them.

But not quite. They didn't yet have the final documents in hand. Anything could still happen; Murray or any of the others could be swayed by arguments from someone in the IOA, or simply have a change of heart once they read the formal contract. Until they all signed, the agreement was but in name.

John came striding in, a smile on his face. "General, Teyla—Lorne said you guys were finished for the day. Can I buy you two a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, I think I'm coffeed out, Colonel. Thanks, though. Ms. Emmagan, great work," O'Neill said, and gave her a wink. He trotted up the stairs to the jumper bay; to John's dismay, he'd insisted on having private use of one of the puddlejumpers for the duration of the talks.

"I'm never getting that jumper back, am I?" John said.

"I don't believe you will," Teyla replied with some amusement. John was very possessive of the small craft; with good reason—they had saved the lives of many of their people countless times. But they did have enough, she thought, to spare one to the man who had given them so much.

"So," John said, bumping her shoulder. "How'd it go?"

Teyla wasn't fooled by his unconcern. "Very well. We just have to sign the agreement."

"Really? You don't seem that excited." John was momentarily distracted by the sight of the jumper zipping past the window outside the gate room.

"I am." Teyla pulled on John's elbow, leading him toward the mess, her mind still going over the details and itching with persistent concerns. Until the agreement was in her hands with all the particulars sealed, she wouldn't be at peace.

She was too preoccupied to notice how silent John was being, himself, until she looked up from the tea he had prepared for her. Then she saw the expression on his face—contemplative, quietly happy.

"Yes, John. We are going home."

"What? Oh, right—I knew you could do it, you know." He grinned at her, his face transforming. She'd often told herself his face was too oddly shaped to be attractive, his ears too strangely pointed—it was his inner qualities she found so compelling. And then he smiled like this, openly, and she called herself a liar.

"You're happy about something else," she said, considering him. "Something...surprising?"

"Oh, you have no idea." John stared down at his coffee cup, turning it idly between his fingers. "It's—whoo—okay. You remember when I pissed off Landry big-time by disobeying orders so we could go back and fight the Replicators?"

"Vaguely," she said, amused.

"Never thought he'd forgive me for that one." John shook his head. "But apparently, he put me in for a commendation for, you know, the thing." He waved his hand.

"This would be where we saved your entire planet from the Wraith."

"Ah, yeah. That." John ran one hand over the back of his neck. "And then it kind of snowballed, and well, obviously you guys aren't military so he can't give you a commendation, but he told me he was going to ask the President—and anyway, that's what's happening." John nodded at her, that same surprised little smile on his face.

"What is happening, John?" Teyla held her patience by taking a sip of her tea.

John shook his head, obviously still dazed. "Oh, right. Well, you guys—you, Rodney, and Ronon—are going to be awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, which is like, a huge deal. Big deal. Except, of course, it's going to have to be on the hush-hush." John bit his lip. "Still, that's pretty damned cool. It's awesome."

"And for you?"

"Me." John broke into a grin again, this time hiding it by rubbing his palm over his mouth. "Well, hell, Teyla. I can't even say it. It's like a bad joke."

"You could whisper it," she said, teasing.

He shot her a look. "The Air Force Medal of Honor," John said. "It's like—do you know who's earned that?" His voice was indeed hushed. "Only the greatest heroes of the worst wars our world has seen."

Teyla stared at him, raising her eyebrow.

John stared back until he caught her meaning, and then his eyes dropped. "Aw, Teyla."

"Then do you not believe Ronon, Rodney, and I deserve our medals? I'm sure we could ask General Landry to stop the process."

"Jeez, no!"

"Good," Teyla said, satisfied.

John bit his lip, looking away, and she could see him searching for a distraction. "Oh, hey," he said, "You'll never guess what came in the mail drop today."

She shook her head at his transparent ploy. "Not another golfing magazine, I trust?"

"Guess again." His eyes were wide and innocent. Too innocent.

"Oh. Oh!" Teyla's face grew hot.


"I wonder if Selida would be willing to extend her duties caring for Torren tonight," Teyla said.

"About that." John ducked his head. "I already asked her. Hope that's okay."

Teyla's heart leaped. Finally, finally. "Yes, of course it is. You are his name-parent." For a reason, she did not add, having had this discussion with him before.

"Cool." He grinned, relieved. "So. After dinner, in your quarters?"

"I think that would be perfect."

And if she sounded a little breathless, she thought perhaps that was understandable.


John pushed her against the door and kissed her, the brown box pushing rudely against her ribs, and she clutched at his shirt, nearly choking him, she twisted it so tightly in her hands. She bit at his lower lip, tugging it within her mouth, his groan rattling through her, and he squeezed his hand between them to fondle her breast.

"Let's. Let's," John said, and Teyla had to agree. They separated and started working hastily, grinning at each other like children.

"It's pink," John said a few minutes later, his eyebrows crinkling in an amusing fashion as he knelt naked beside her bed assembling the device. He bit his lip and poked the smaller shaft through a hole in the harness.

"I like pink," Teyla returned, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. John was frowning down at the device, tucking this and snapping that, and she didn't think the complexity of the device was what caused his distress.

"You know..." he said slowly. "The guys I work with every day, my guys, they'd think it was pretty...weird...me wanting this from you. God knows what Ronon—"

"I don't care what they think," Teyla said carefully, and she had to interrupt him, she had to, because if he changed his mind now, after the weeks of anticipation, after the hot kisses, after they'd stripped bare and she'd spent a frustrating ten minutes wrenching the thing out of its impossible packaging, she thought her heart would dry up. "All that matters is you, John—what you think."

"I've been thinking about it for weeks," he said, his voice tight. He looked up finally, and oh, his eyes, his eyes. "Truth is, I like strong women; always have. I like women who know what they want and go get it."

It startled Teyla somewhat to realize, yet again, the inverse need John was revealing. What it meant to him to know she wanted him this way. "I do want you, so much," she said. "Come."

"Yeah. Let's get this show on the road," he said, sounding precisely like she felt at that moment, a hard-edged excitement turning her body hot and liquid.

He knelt before her, the harness in his hands, the rude, pink shaft between his fingers, and looked up at her, his dark lashes hiding his eyes. "Ready?"

"Yes." She spread her legs, and he bent his head, placing a kiss on her, his tongue flicking out just so, making her knees buckle slightly, and then his hands moved around her, fastening the harness, and he spread her with his fingers then worked the bulb of the shaft inside her—easily, for she was wet, so very wet.

"Oh, Ancestors," she said, and swayed as he settled it in place. She clenched around it to enjoy the fullness.

"Let me tighten this up," he said, and she was reminded of the first time he had helped her with her tac vest, when all the straps and flaps were so foreign to her. Even then she had enjoyed his hands on her.

He settled it, firmly but not too tight, aligned so the base was centered perfectly over her pubic bone, and then knelt back.

"What about my cock?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought I'd leave that to you," he said dryly, examining it before handing it to her.

Teyla had to admit the bright pink color did look somewhat absurd, but John had seemed fascinated just the same by the veined ridges and the remarkably lifelike head of the cock. His ears were turning red again.

He stood and kissed her again, but something had changed—instead of placing his hands on her face, he kept them down low on her hips, and waited for Teyla to deepen the kiss.

After she pulled back, she noticed his eyes were closed, and he did not open them until she said, "Let's lie down."

He followed her lead in this too, letting her guide him to lie down on his back, then she gathered the bottle that had come with the harness. John watched with half-lidded eyes as she fastened on her cock. When it was pointing rudely from her groin, she looked up to see him flick his tongue nervously over his lips.

"I have been reading much on the subject on the web," Teyla said, only to have John groan and cover his eyes.

"Great. McKay will probably feature us in the next Atlantis Newsletter."

"Don't be ridiculous. Amelia long ago showed me how to use a 'proxy server.'"

John lifted his hand to blink at her, a sheepish grin starting. The distraction at least served to allay his nervousness. Teyla uncapped the bottle of lubricant and thoroughly coated three of her fingers.

"From my reading, if I prepare you slowly, this should not be painful. But you must be relaxed."

John's hand went back over his face and he said, "Okay. But can we not talk? I'd rather not talk about it. In fact, I'll relax more if, um, oh—"

He responded to the touch of her fingers by raising his leg and spreading for her, just as she had hoped. With her other hand, she pushed on his knee, opening him wider, and he made a breathless sound.

Her two fingers went into him easily, for they had done this much before. He was warm inside, smooth and soft, so different from his exterior. And he responded so well to her touch, so eagerly—she clenched her thighs together in excitement, and her pink cock responded by rising upward, naturally, as if she were male.

Anticipation nearly overwhelmed her, but John was not yet ready for her cock. Teyla reached down for the bottle and dribbled more lubricant directly onto her fingers where they disappeared inside him, then added her third finger slowly, watching his face as she did so for any sign of pain.

John's eyebrows were drawn together as if in consternation, but the pursing of his lips told another tale, one of desperate excitement. His rapid breathing, and the tiny sounds escaping the back of his throat, also betrayed him. Teyla pushed her fingers in as far as they could go, then stiffened them into curls before drawing them out slowly, slowly—

"Teyla—" he groaned, his neck arching.

"Yes. Enough preparation, I think," Teyla said, smiling. "I can't wait any longer, John."

He opened his eyes and stared at her a moment before flicking them down to her cock, then back up to her face again. And Teyla saw it, the vulnerable need in his eyes, the desire that she prove her own need for him.

Well, so she would, right now.

She knelt between his legs and saw immediately that his hips were too low for her cock. Beside her on the bed was a folded up blanket, and she directed him to raise his hips so she could wedge it beneath him.

"Uh, like this?" he said, looking awkward in this new position, his knees falling toward his chest.

"Yes." She leaned over him, wanting to be near, just for a moment, feeling hesitant now that the moment was upon them. Her cock bumped against his, and an odd expression passed over his face, but he smiled up at her, one side of his mouth drawing higher than the other, and raised his hand to brush back her hair.

"It'll be fine," he said softly. "It's just us. We're good."

So, he must have seen her uncertainty, but with his words, her courage settled. Teyla nodded and pulled back, then found the lubricant and poured some into her hand to stroke it over her cock.

She smiled at the sensation, at the way pressing down shifted the base against her clit, pleasuring her, and she squeezed around the shaft inside.

"Hey," John said, "don't get carried away over there." Amusement was in his voice, threaded with a trembling urgency she could well understand.

"You want this?" she asked, her eyes still closed. "Because I want you, John. So much."

She heard him let out a choked breath. It was enough to spur her to action, and she shifted forward a few inches. "Breathe easy," she said, her heart beating hard and, watching him closely, she pushed her cock inside him.

John was clutching his kneecaps tightly, but as she breached him, he seemed to relax, as if relieved of some concern, or perhaps unburdened of some weight.

Teyla pulled back slightly and thrust deeper, feeling more certain now of the angle and stability of the harness, which held the base of her cock firmly against her.

"Oh, God. Teyla, fuck," John said, his eyes closing, his head tilting back. His cock rose, thick and firm against his belly.

"Yes," Teyla said. "I am fucking you," she said, starting to move her hips, and John's eyes opened, startled and brilliant green in his flushed face.

"God. Yeah, Teyla, yeah," he said, and that was all he said for some minutes, his voice slurred, cheeks flushed, and Teyla's heart pounded with fierce desire, her pleasure rising with each stroke of her hips, faster, faster, until finally she was grinding rapidly in shallow thrusts, seeking out her peak, her excitement overwhelming.

This was what she had hoped for—this sense of power—she was in control, and it was John who had relinquished it, had given himself entirely into her hands, his eyes open and staring into hers almost with disbelief as her body took his. The thought thrilled her, and with each thrust of her hips the harness shifted the shaft within her, echoing the sensation John must be feeling of being penetrated, being taken.

John's hands tightened on his knees, pulling them back so she could plunge even deeper, and Teyla ducked her head at the sight and moaned as she came.

"Oh, stars," she said, slowing for a moment to savor the sensation.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to see John stroking his own cock, his expression one of desperation.

"Yes, touch yourself while I fuck you," Teyla said, and started moving her hips again. She saw his face contort, as if her words were unbearably exciting to him, and she smiled as she sped the pace.

Her back ached from leaning forward without relief, and she straightened somewhat while she continued to circle her hips. This, for some reason, galvanized John, who groaned suddenly, her name on his lips, and he jerked on his cock roughly until he spilled, spattering seed over his fist. Teyla was startled to feel the jerking of his body through her own cock, and it set off another wave of pleasure in her gut.

"Oh, John," she said.

He opened his eyes and stared at her as if she were a miracle, as if she'd single-handedly destroyed a hive ship with nothing but her mind.

"Teyla," he said, his voice hoarse. "C'mere."

Teyla withdrew, wincing slightly at the aches making themselves known to her now, after the fact. She would have to stretch well tomorrow before sparring. The thought was a distant one beneath her giddy joy. She detached her cock and set it aside for cleaning, and then threw herself beside John, who looked equally exhausted.

But he pulled her immediately into his arms for a kiss then said, "I love you. God, I love you, Teyla." As always, he whispered it, as if someone could snatch the words and use them against him.

"I love you, my mate, my heart," Teyla said. "Thank you for giving me the chance to show you."

John's forehead crinkled. "Hey, this was for both of us, remember?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Teyla said, but she couldn't help feeling lucky, so very lucky she had found him, someone strong enough to give as well as take.

He'd crossed countless stars, and she was the first person he asked for help. She should have known then the significance of that act.

"I think," she said, "we will have to try this again. Next time, I won't be so selfish as to finish first."

John choked on startled laughter, his chest shaking beneath her cheek. "Great, now you're getting a complex."

"A complex?"

"It's—never mind." He kissed her forehead. "Don't worry. It was good for me too, baby."

Teyla smiled, content.


A/N: I was tempted to name this Love Me Like a Man but that would sound like wordplay when I meant it sincerely. Bonnie Raitt is one of my heroes. Anyway, I went with the slightly less appropriate Sheryl Crow title instead.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 16th, 2014 07:10 pm (UTC)
Woohoo, but this is hot! And lovely and tender and strong Teyla and John being vulnerable and just, wow! I loved it (in case you couldn't tell *g*)
Jul. 16th, 2014 07:18 pm (UTC)
Thank you! That was what I was hoping for. <3
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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