Stargate Atlantis; John & Teyla; Excitement
Title: Tea for Two: Excitement
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme:Five Stages of Sexual Response: Excitement
Rating: Older Teens
Tea for Two: Excitement
Teyla lingers in the doorway and John raises an eyebrow. His room is all but stripped bare, Ronon having disappeared down the corridor with the last bagful for the recycling unit. He’s sensed a certain tension in her ever since she and Ronon had first appeared at his quarters and he wonders what she wants.
“Will you join me for tea this evening, John?”
“Tea?” he questions, more in surprise of the choice of beverage than the unexpected invitation.
“There is a ceremony….”
Her voice trails off, and after two and a half years of reading her moods, John is puzzled by this one. If she had her staves in her hands, her distracted air would merely be a ruse, designed to lull him into a false sense of security before a swift and ruthless attack. But they’re not working out and this feels like foreign territory to him. He’s still not sure what she wants, but the slight pleading in her eyes is unexpected, so he says, “Sure.”
She visibly relaxes and John pretends not to notice that her answering smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Shall we say in an hour?”
An hour will give him time to clean up from the work of the day and packing, so he agrees. “One hour.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As arranged, a little less than an hour later John stands outside the door to her quarters, showered and changed into clothes that aren’t rumpled and sweaty from the day’s work. He was ready in fifteen minutes, which had given him forty-five long minutes to dissect every nuance of her surprise invitation. Athosian ceremonies are plentiful and given their current circumstances, John figures this will be a farewell one. Problem is, he isn’t ready to say goodbye, but the IOC has different plans. Realizing he’s stalling, John knocks firmly on the door and it opens immediately.
He’s momentarily speechless. Teyla stands in front of him dressed like he has never seen. He’s used to seeing her in her Athosian fighting top and skirt, but her attire now is breathtakingly different. The dark burgundy halter top clings lovingly to her breasts, plunging deep and providing him with a tantalizing view of her décolletage and leaving her smooth, honey-colored midriff exposed. The long matching skirt that rests low on her hips seems almost modest by comparison, but when she steps back to let him enter, it swirls around her, revealing glimpses of her toned legs, and John realizes it is slit almost to the top of her thighs.
He steps past her and his already heightened senses go on full alert, for there is something more different about her tonight. Besides the unusual clothing, Teyla smells of the open sea that surrounds them and something more, a deeper undertone of exotic flowers and heady incense that he finds incredibly intoxicating.
Forcing himself to focus on something other than Teyla, John registers the multitude of candles scattered about the room and that the single bed is pushed against the wall. She’s spread a mat out on the floor and he recognizes it as one of the workout mats, but she’s disguised it with a length of brightly colored woven material. Sitting rather incongruously on a small tray in the center of the mat is a teapot, steam rising from the spout, and two cups.
The door glides shut soundlessly, the brighter light from the corridor fading into the soft glow of the dozens of candles that light the room. “Please,” she says, brushing past him and gracefully sinking onto the floor, resting on her knees. “Sit down.”
John does as she asks, sitting awkwardly for a moment, feeling rough and clumsy compared to her graceful elegance. He notices she is barefoot, so he takes off his boots, feeling slightly less uncomfortable. He moves and shifts until he’s sitting cross-legged across from her and blurts out, “Just the two of us?” Because for some reason the scenario he’s built up in his mind for this farewell ceremony includes Ronon and McKay, as well.
Her eyes meet his and this time John can’t pretend to ignore what he sees in them, the invitation in their tawny depths easily overwhelming the flimsy reasons and excuses he’s manufactured to deny the deeper feelings that have evolved between them.
“Just the two of us, John,” she replies calmly. “This may be the last chance we have to be together.”
If any other woman had said that particular phrase to him, he would have written it of as a flirty double entendre, but not with Teyla. In all the time he’s known her, she has always said exactly what she means and this occasion is no different.
“Teyla,” he rumbles, the faintest hint of warning in his voice.
She says nothing, merely lifts the teapot and pours some of the steaming, clear brown liquid into each cup. John is momentarily distracted by her hands as she deftly performs the task and wonders how they can look so delicate holding as she pours the tea and yet be strong and deadly when holding a staff, yet another layer to the enigma that is this woman. She lifts one of the earthenware cups and holds it out to him.
He takes it from her and calls her challenge, deliberately letting his fingers glide along hers in an unmistakable caress. Her eyes flash with a sultry fire and John can barely hear her over the rush of desire pounding through him.
“Your tea.”
THE END
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme:Five Stages of Sexual Response: Excitement
Rating: Older Teens
Tea for Two: Excitement
Teyla lingers in the doorway and John raises an eyebrow. His room is all but stripped bare, Ronon having disappeared down the corridor with the last bagful for the recycling unit. He’s sensed a certain tension in her ever since she and Ronon had first appeared at his quarters and he wonders what she wants.
“Will you join me for tea this evening, John?”
“Tea?” he questions, more in surprise of the choice of beverage than the unexpected invitation.
“There is a ceremony….”
Her voice trails off, and after two and a half years of reading her moods, John is puzzled by this one. If she had her staves in her hands, her distracted air would merely be a ruse, designed to lull him into a false sense of security before a swift and ruthless attack. But they’re not working out and this feels like foreign territory to him. He’s still not sure what she wants, but the slight pleading in her eyes is unexpected, so he says, “Sure.”
She visibly relaxes and John pretends not to notice that her answering smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Shall we say in an hour?”
An hour will give him time to clean up from the work of the day and packing, so he agrees. “One hour.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As arranged, a little less than an hour later John stands outside the door to her quarters, showered and changed into clothes that aren’t rumpled and sweaty from the day’s work. He was ready in fifteen minutes, which had given him forty-five long minutes to dissect every nuance of her surprise invitation. Athosian ceremonies are plentiful and given their current circumstances, John figures this will be a farewell one. Problem is, he isn’t ready to say goodbye, but the IOC has different plans. Realizing he’s stalling, John knocks firmly on the door and it opens immediately.
He’s momentarily speechless. Teyla stands in front of him dressed like he has never seen. He’s used to seeing her in her Athosian fighting top and skirt, but her attire now is breathtakingly different. The dark burgundy halter top clings lovingly to her breasts, plunging deep and providing him with a tantalizing view of her décolletage and leaving her smooth, honey-colored midriff exposed. The long matching skirt that rests low on her hips seems almost modest by comparison, but when she steps back to let him enter, it swirls around her, revealing glimpses of her toned legs, and John realizes it is slit almost to the top of her thighs.
He steps past her and his already heightened senses go on full alert, for there is something more different about her tonight. Besides the unusual clothing, Teyla smells of the open sea that surrounds them and something more, a deeper undertone of exotic flowers and heady incense that he finds incredibly intoxicating.
Forcing himself to focus on something other than Teyla, John registers the multitude of candles scattered about the room and that the single bed is pushed against the wall. She’s spread a mat out on the floor and he recognizes it as one of the workout mats, but she’s disguised it with a length of brightly colored woven material. Sitting rather incongruously on a small tray in the center of the mat is a teapot, steam rising from the spout, and two cups.
The door glides shut soundlessly, the brighter light from the corridor fading into the soft glow of the dozens of candles that light the room. “Please,” she says, brushing past him and gracefully sinking onto the floor, resting on her knees. “Sit down.”
John does as she asks, sitting awkwardly for a moment, feeling rough and clumsy compared to her graceful elegance. He notices she is barefoot, so he takes off his boots, feeling slightly less uncomfortable. He moves and shifts until he’s sitting cross-legged across from her and blurts out, “Just the two of us?” Because for some reason the scenario he’s built up in his mind for this farewell ceremony includes Ronon and McKay, as well.
Her eyes meet his and this time John can’t pretend to ignore what he sees in them, the invitation in their tawny depths easily overwhelming the flimsy reasons and excuses he’s manufactured to deny the deeper feelings that have evolved between them.
“Just the two of us, John,” she replies calmly. “This may be the last chance we have to be together.”
If any other woman had said that particular phrase to him, he would have written it of as a flirty double entendre, but not with Teyla. In all the time he’s known her, she has always said exactly what she means and this occasion is no different.
“Teyla,” he rumbles, the faintest hint of warning in his voice.
She says nothing, merely lifts the teapot and pours some of the steaming, clear brown liquid into each cup. John is momentarily distracted by her hands as she deftly performs the task and wonders how they can look so delicate holding as she pours the tea and yet be strong and deadly when holding a staff, yet another layer to the enigma that is this woman. She lifts one of the earthenware cups and holds it out to him.
He takes it from her and calls her challenge, deliberately letting his fingers glide along hers in an unmistakable caress. Her eyes flash with a sultry fire and John can barely hear her over the rush of desire pounding through him.
“Your tea.”
THE END