fic: Auction Block [PG, John/Teyla]
Title: Auction Block
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None.
Summary: John gets in trouble off-world and it's up to Teyla to save him. Again.
Notes: I fail at comment fic.
“Up next, lot 257!” the auctioneer called off, looking to the line behind her as ‘lot’ 256 was led offstage by his new wife.
“That’s his number,” Ronon muttered. “Let’s move closer.”
“Yes, but stay off to the side,” Teyla said, adjusting her veil. “We do not want to be recognized until we have won him.”
She followed him as he shoulder his way through the crowd of women. It was highly unusual for a free man to be wandering around during the Husband Market, but no one dared question him with Teyla at his elbox. If there was one thing the Nitcan people respected, it was a woman's right to her husband.
Of all the people in the galaxy John had to have been captured by, it had to be the Nitcan ‘traders.’ They roamed from planet to planet, capturing any man they could, and brought them back to their planet for the yearly Husband Market. The practice had started hundreds of years ago, when the females born on Nitca far outnumbered the males, and ‘fresh’ men had to be brought in to sustain their population.
Their population was more or less even by now, but the Market had grown in popularity among off-worlders looking for a husband and the Nitcans made a fair living from it, so the practice continued, despite protest from many worlds. The Athosians had lost several men to the Market over the years and Teyla's father had forbidden travel to the planets where they hunted years before she had been born.
“Lot 257,” the auctioneer said again and John was dragged, bound by the hands, to the stage.
Like the other men, he was shirtless and oiled so his muscles gleamed in the sunlight. His black BDU pants were slung low without his belt, just enough to give a tantalizing peek at the V of his hips and the trail of dark hair leading downward. There was a fair amount of stubble on his chin, and he was looking anywhere except the sea of women in front of him.
The auctioneer left her post and walked across the stage to John, her appraisal crop in hand.
“Lot 257 was found on exploring the ruins of the Ancestors around ten days ago,” she said, circling him. “He’s two meters tall, roughly forty seasons old, and as you all can see, in excellent shape.”
The auctioneer ran her crop down John’s front, and there were more cheers from the crowd. Teyla narrowed her eyes. Most of these women were half of John's age and would make ridiculous wives for whoever they won today.
“Good thing McKay didn’t come,” Ronon said with a smirk. “He’d never let Sheppard live this down.”
“And you will?” Teyla replied, arching an eyebrow.
Ronon shrugged, his eyes glittering in amusement.
“I told him not to wander off alone.”
“…257’s stubborn and proud, but I’m sure one of you will be able to break him of that habit,” the auctioneer continued. “We shall start the bidding at 1,000 impras! Do I have 1,000 impras?”
John’s price was much higher than the last few men and far above the amount in the average woman’s purse. It was an old Nitcan auctioneer practice - their favorite males went for the higher price so there was a better chance of discouraging a sale. Any man that was not sold at the Market was the auctioneer’s to have her way with.
A woman raised her hand in the back of the crowd, and the auctioneer quickly upped the price to 1,200 impras and then 1,400 as another hand went into the air.
“Aren’t you going to bid?” Ronon asked as John’s price gradually grew higher.
“In time,” Teyla said, folding her arms over her chest. "I do not want to appear desperate.”
Soon the bidding was down to two or three women. Teyla waited for one more to drop-out of the bidding process before she made her move.
“Do I have 3,700 impras?”
Teyla raised her hand and the bid jumped to 4,000. A woman on the other side of the crowd matched and the crowd began to murmur in excitement. John’s price was easily the highest of the day.
“4,200 impras?” the auctioneer asked and Teyla raised her hand again. “4,500 impras! Lot 257 for 4,500 impras?”
The auctioneer was looking specifically at the other bidder, who shot a nasty glare in Teyla's direction and shook her head.
“Lot 257 for 4,500?” the auctioneer paused, waiting for someone to jump in at the last moment. “Sold to woman in the veil for 4,200 impras! Come to the stage and claim your new husband!”
“Lucky you,” Ronon said over the applause from the crowd, that all-knowing smirk on his face again.
Teyla glared at him, and moved toward the stage. John was looking anywhere but at her and was doing his best to be difficult. The guards had to pick him up and drag him toward the marriage circle, earning laughs from the crowd. They planted him in front of her and cut his hands free. One of the guards grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her.
“Husband,” Teyla said. She pulled aside her veil and winked, unable to contain her mirth as his eyes bulged in shock.
“Jesus Christ,” John replied, his shoulders sagging in relief. The guards let him go and he took a step closer to her. “I thought - ”
She shook her head, effectively cutting him off, as the auctioneer approached. Teyla held out a thick wad of impras and the auctioneer snatched it away, counting them peevishly.
“Well?” she said, glancing at them over the bills. “Are you not going to kiss your new husband? If he is not to your tastes, I can always take him back - ”
John’s lips were on hers before Teyla knew what was happening and it was not a chaste kiss like she would have expected from him. He was desperate and rough, one arm pulling her close and the other digging into her hair, and he tasted like salt and sweat. Her knees wobbled when he sucked on her bottom lip and she threw her arms around him, steadying herself.
“Lot 258!” the auctioneer called, drawing them out of their kiss. She walked back to her podium, appraisal crop swinging from her hand. “Lot 258 please!”
“We should go,” Teyla said, her chest heaving.
“Yeah, let’s,” John agreed breathlessly.
He kissed her again, slow and sweet, after she led him off stage and away from the crowd.
“Thanks for saving me,” he said, touching her cheek. “I owe you one.”
“Well, now that you are my husband,” Teyla said with a smirk, taking the moment to admire his bare chest again. “I can think of several things you can do to make it up to me…”
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None.
Summary: John gets in trouble off-world and it's up to Teyla to save him. Again.
Notes: I fail at comment fic.
“Up next, lot 257!” the auctioneer called off, looking to the line behind her as ‘lot’ 256 was led offstage by his new wife.
“That’s his number,” Ronon muttered. “Let’s move closer.”
“Yes, but stay off to the side,” Teyla said, adjusting her veil. “We do not want to be recognized until we have won him.”
She followed him as he shoulder his way through the crowd of women. It was highly unusual for a free man to be wandering around during the Husband Market, but no one dared question him with Teyla at his elbox. If there was one thing the Nitcan people respected, it was a woman's right to her husband.
Of all the people in the galaxy John had to have been captured by, it had to be the Nitcan ‘traders.’ They roamed from planet to planet, capturing any man they could, and brought them back to their planet for the yearly Husband Market. The practice had started hundreds of years ago, when the females born on Nitca far outnumbered the males, and ‘fresh’ men had to be brought in to sustain their population.
Their population was more or less even by now, but the Market had grown in popularity among off-worlders looking for a husband and the Nitcans made a fair living from it, so the practice continued, despite protest from many worlds. The Athosians had lost several men to the Market over the years and Teyla's father had forbidden travel to the planets where they hunted years before she had been born.
“Lot 257,” the auctioneer said again and John was dragged, bound by the hands, to the stage.
Like the other men, he was shirtless and oiled so his muscles gleamed in the sunlight. His black BDU pants were slung low without his belt, just enough to give a tantalizing peek at the V of his hips and the trail of dark hair leading downward. There was a fair amount of stubble on his chin, and he was looking anywhere except the sea of women in front of him.
The auctioneer left her post and walked across the stage to John, her appraisal crop in hand.
“Lot 257 was found on exploring the ruins of the Ancestors around ten days ago,” she said, circling him. “He’s two meters tall, roughly forty seasons old, and as you all can see, in excellent shape.”
The auctioneer ran her crop down John’s front, and there were more cheers from the crowd. Teyla narrowed her eyes. Most of these women were half of John's age and would make ridiculous wives for whoever they won today.
“Good thing McKay didn’t come,” Ronon said with a smirk. “He’d never let Sheppard live this down.”
“And you will?” Teyla replied, arching an eyebrow.
Ronon shrugged, his eyes glittering in amusement.
“I told him not to wander off alone.”
“…257’s stubborn and proud, but I’m sure one of you will be able to break him of that habit,” the auctioneer continued. “We shall start the bidding at 1,000 impras! Do I have 1,000 impras?”
John’s price was much higher than the last few men and far above the amount in the average woman’s purse. It was an old Nitcan auctioneer practice - their favorite males went for the higher price so there was a better chance of discouraging a sale. Any man that was not sold at the Market was the auctioneer’s to have her way with.
A woman raised her hand in the back of the crowd, and the auctioneer quickly upped the price to 1,200 impras and then 1,400 as another hand went into the air.
“Aren’t you going to bid?” Ronon asked as John’s price gradually grew higher.
“In time,” Teyla said, folding her arms over her chest. "I do not want to appear desperate.”
Soon the bidding was down to two or three women. Teyla waited for one more to drop-out of the bidding process before she made her move.
“Do I have 3,700 impras?”
Teyla raised her hand and the bid jumped to 4,000. A woman on the other side of the crowd matched and the crowd began to murmur in excitement. John’s price was easily the highest of the day.
“4,200 impras?” the auctioneer asked and Teyla raised her hand again. “4,500 impras! Lot 257 for 4,500 impras?”
The auctioneer was looking specifically at the other bidder, who shot a nasty glare in Teyla's direction and shook her head.
“Lot 257 for 4,500?” the auctioneer paused, waiting for someone to jump in at the last moment. “Sold to woman in the veil for 4,200 impras! Come to the stage and claim your new husband!”
“Lucky you,” Ronon said over the applause from the crowd, that all-knowing smirk on his face again.
Teyla glared at him, and moved toward the stage. John was looking anywhere but at her and was doing his best to be difficult. The guards had to pick him up and drag him toward the marriage circle, earning laughs from the crowd. They planted him in front of her and cut his hands free. One of the guards grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her.
“Husband,” Teyla said. She pulled aside her veil and winked, unable to contain her mirth as his eyes bulged in shock.
“Jesus Christ,” John replied, his shoulders sagging in relief. The guards let him go and he took a step closer to her. “I thought - ”
She shook her head, effectively cutting him off, as the auctioneer approached. Teyla held out a thick wad of impras and the auctioneer snatched it away, counting them peevishly.
“Well?” she said, glancing at them over the bills. “Are you not going to kiss your new husband? If he is not to your tastes, I can always take him back - ”
John’s lips were on hers before Teyla knew what was happening and it was not a chaste kiss like she would have expected from him. He was desperate and rough, one arm pulling her close and the other digging into her hair, and he tasted like salt and sweat. Her knees wobbled when he sucked on her bottom lip and she threw her arms around him, steadying herself.
“Lot 258!” the auctioneer called, drawing them out of their kiss. She walked back to her podium, appraisal crop swinging from her hand. “Lot 258 please!”
“We should go,” Teyla said, her chest heaving.
“Yeah, let’s,” John agreed breathlessly.
He kissed her again, slow and sweet, after she led him off stage and away from the crowd.
“Thanks for saving me,” he said, touching her cheek. “I owe you one.”
“Well, now that you are my husband,” Teyla said with a smirk, taking the moment to admire his bare chest again. “I can think of several things you can do to make it up to me…”