"shaving it close" John/Teyla, blades - RtielanMay 22 2011, 06:06:18 UTC
After the crisis, Teyla finds him in the bathroom, shaving with hands that are not entirely steady.
Her fingers close over his on the handle of the razor. "You could not have done this tomorrow?"
"It'll be beard by tomorrow and worse," he says, his voice rough with exhaustion.
"And if you cut your throat tonight?" Teyla reaches up and smears the cream across his face with one hand, then turns his head to run the razor down his skin. She taps the razor on the sink ledge and water begins to spill from the spout.
"Sorry," John mumbles. "It's the city."
"Yes," Teyla says, already rinsing the razor under the water before reaching up to swipe the edge down John's cheek once more. "I believe it does that when you are around."
"I can't help that it likes me."
"You do not need to defend it to me." Teyla is not Rodney to take offense that the Ancient devices respond to John in such a manner. "And you are very likeable."
He smiles a little then, his cheek muscles bunching up so that she must take the razor away lest she accidentally cut him. "You think so?"
"You doubt me?"
His hands slide around her waist, drawing her against him, but she keeps her hand beneath his chin so she can reach the curve of his throat. "I never doubt you."
She smiles and draws the razor slowly across the stubble of his chin. "You do not make a very convincing liar, John."
"Ouch."
Brisk, smooth strokes clear John of the rough stubble across his cheeks. Teyla takes pleasure in the movements, steady and slow, in the heat of his body and the heat of his eyes. And when she puts the hot cloth aside, having wiped the last of the cream from his jaw, she is ready for the lips that find her own and drown her in a pleasurable storm of sensation.
Her fingers close over his on the handle of the razor. "You could not have done this tomorrow?"
"It'll be beard by tomorrow and worse," he says, his voice rough with exhaustion.
"And if you cut your throat tonight?" Teyla reaches up and smears the cream across his face with one hand, then turns his head to run the razor down his skin. She taps the razor on the sink ledge and water begins to spill from the spout.
"Sorry," John mumbles. "It's the city."
"Yes," Teyla says, already rinsing the razor under the water before reaching up to swipe the edge down John's cheek once more. "I believe it does that when you are around."
"I can't help that it likes me."
"You do not need to defend it to me." Teyla is not Rodney to take offense that the Ancient devices respond to John in such a manner. "And you are very likeable."
He smiles a little then, his cheek muscles bunching up so that she must take the razor away lest she accidentally cut him. "You think so?"
"You doubt me?"
His hands slide around her waist, drawing her against him, but she keeps her hand beneath his chin so she can reach the curve of his throat. "I never doubt you."
She smiles and draws the razor slowly across the stubble of his chin. "You do not make a very convincing liar, John."
"Ouch."
Brisk, smooth strokes clear John of the rough stubble across his cheeks. Teyla takes pleasure in the movements, steady and slow, in the heat of his body and the heat of his eyes. And when she puts the hot cloth aside, having wiped the last of the cream from his jaw, she is ready for the lips that find her own and drown her in a pleasurable storm of sensation.
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