SGA fic: "Unbound And Undone" - NC-17 [John/Teyla]
FANDOM: Stargate Atlantis
TITLE: Unbound And Undone
AUTHOR: Tielan
SUMMARY: The itch runs through his bones, through his balls, more than mere adrenaline.
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Relationship, Kink, Bondage, Sex
WORD COUNT: 816
WARNINGS: (highlight to see) none
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, don't sue, etc.
NOTES: For the
kink_bingo Amnesty 2012 - just squeaking in before the due date!
Unbound And Undone
It's particularly sharp after he's used the chair - an itch which runs through his bones, through his balls, more than mere adrenaline.
The itch was never there before Atlantis. John would do his runs, fly his misisons, come back to base and sit down for a drink with the guys before sacking out like a snuffed lighter.
He rubs at his forearms, trying to slough off the restlessness. It's not the first time he's used the chair and felt this pinch of need, but it's never been this bad. Usually, there are things to do once the city's been brought down or the drones have been fired off. There's a mess to clean up, or another crisis about to unfold. John's needed to fly a 'jumper or to help check the city.
Not this time.
This time he needs something more.
Teyla is surprised when he turns up at her rooms. "John? What is wrong?"
The request stalls in his throat, and after a moment she nods and steps back, the thin linen of her sleeping cami clinging to the curve of her breasts. "Come in, then. But you will have to be quiet. Torren is sleeping in the next room."
John nearly offers to leave right then and there, but Teyla is already taking the box out of her wardrobe, and his mouth is dry.
"Strip, John. And lock the door."
The door locks with a thought, barring out the world. And John takes off his boots and socks, pulls off his tee-shirt and undoes his pants, slides off his boxers, and folds it all up to sit neat and tidy on the chair.
When he looks back, Teyla is waiting on the bed.
Her eyes slide the length of his body, from messy hair to pale toes, and John fights the urge to cover his balls as his penis grows erect with nothing but her gaze on him. She leaves him standing there, his hands clenched by his side, until his cheeks are red, and his temples pulse in time to the throb of his cock .
A jerk of her head indicates the other side of the bed. "Kneel and fold your arms behind you."
John does as she says, soft Athosian wool under his knees. His chest presses out as he fits his arms behind his back, fingers to elbows.
Teyla moves behind him, and John waits to feel the slide of rope against his skin.
Instead her teeth scrape his nape - where his neck meets his shoulder meets his back - raw sensation. John jerks, to the sound of Teyla's low laughter and the nip of her teeth against his earlobe. Sharp, swift pain and pleasure. "Be still."
And now the rope slides about his ankles, looping back and forth in complicated twists and turns up his shins. The rope is heavy against his skin but not scratchy, and the textured rope contrasts with the smooth little licks and touches of Teyla's fingers as she tugs at the knots and then moves from his ankles to his arms.
His arms are bound to each other, in a complicated knotwork of rope that presses against muscle - not so tight as to cut off circulation, but tight enough to dig. His right wrist is anchored to his left elbow, and his left wrist to his right elbow.
His skin tingles and his cock burns.
But the twitching itch that was stuck to his skin is gone. His body is relaxing into the restraints, contained and controlled. He could fight the restraints but he doesn't need to. He doesn't need to do anything but give in - and his thoughts are beginning to drift.
A light tug on the the rope indicates Teyla's finished her knots, and her hands rest lightly on his shoulders as her lips brush his ear, his neck, his jaw while her hands slide down his arms, trace his flanks - and goose his butt.
John half-moans, half-laughs at the movement, but his head is spinning.
"John?"
She's kneeling in front of him on the bed, waiting for an answer, and John pulls himself out of the daze of his bindings to the anchor of dark, dark eyes. "Yeah?"
A smile plays on her lips. "Still with me?"
"Oh, yeah."
She leans in and her lips brush his in a tender kiss. For a moment, John leans into it, comforted by the familiar ground - less dangerous than where they're playing in now.
Then she bites his lip - just hard enough to sting. And John gasps as the startling nip launches him high and wild, like a bird in freefall.
"Playtime," Teyla says in a purr that brushes against John's senses like a feather down his cock.
Later, unbound and undone, John spoons up against her when she climbs into the bed.
fin
TITLE: Unbound And Undone
AUTHOR: Tielan
SUMMARY: The itch runs through his bones, through his balls, more than mere adrenaline.
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Relationship, Kink, Bondage, Sex
WORD COUNT: 816
WARNINGS: (highlight to see) none
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, don't sue, etc.
NOTES: For the
kink_bingo Amnesty 2012 - just squeaking in before the due date!
Unbound And Undone
It's particularly sharp after he's used the chair - an itch which runs through his bones, through his balls, more than mere adrenaline.
The itch was never there before Atlantis. John would do his runs, fly his misisons, come back to base and sit down for a drink with the guys before sacking out like a snuffed lighter.
He rubs at his forearms, trying to slough off the restlessness. It's not the first time he's used the chair and felt this pinch of need, but it's never been this bad. Usually, there are things to do once the city's been brought down or the drones have been fired off. There's a mess to clean up, or another crisis about to unfold. John's needed to fly a 'jumper or to help check the city.
Not this time.
This time he needs something more.
Teyla is surprised when he turns up at her rooms. "John? What is wrong?"
The request stalls in his throat, and after a moment she nods and steps back, the thin linen of her sleeping cami clinging to the curve of her breasts. "Come in, then. But you will have to be quiet. Torren is sleeping in the next room."
John nearly offers to leave right then and there, but Teyla is already taking the box out of her wardrobe, and his mouth is dry.
"Strip, John. And lock the door."
The door locks with a thought, barring out the world. And John takes off his boots and socks, pulls off his tee-shirt and undoes his pants, slides off his boxers, and folds it all up to sit neat and tidy on the chair.
When he looks back, Teyla is waiting on the bed.
Her eyes slide the length of his body, from messy hair to pale toes, and John fights the urge to cover his balls as his penis grows erect with nothing but her gaze on him. She leaves him standing there, his hands clenched by his side, until his cheeks are red, and his temples pulse in time to the throb of his cock .
A jerk of her head indicates the other side of the bed. "Kneel and fold your arms behind you."
John does as she says, soft Athosian wool under his knees. His chest presses out as he fits his arms behind his back, fingers to elbows.
Teyla moves behind him, and John waits to feel the slide of rope against his skin.
Instead her teeth scrape his nape - where his neck meets his shoulder meets his back - raw sensation. John jerks, to the sound of Teyla's low laughter and the nip of her teeth against his earlobe. Sharp, swift pain and pleasure. "Be still."
And now the rope slides about his ankles, looping back and forth in complicated twists and turns up his shins. The rope is heavy against his skin but not scratchy, and the textured rope contrasts with the smooth little licks and touches of Teyla's fingers as she tugs at the knots and then moves from his ankles to his arms.
His arms are bound to each other, in a complicated knotwork of rope that presses against muscle - not so tight as to cut off circulation, but tight enough to dig. His right wrist is anchored to his left elbow, and his left wrist to his right elbow.
His skin tingles and his cock burns.
But the twitching itch that was stuck to his skin is gone. His body is relaxing into the restraints, contained and controlled. He could fight the restraints but he doesn't need to. He doesn't need to do anything but give in - and his thoughts are beginning to drift.
A light tug on the the rope indicates Teyla's finished her knots, and her hands rest lightly on his shoulders as her lips brush his ear, his neck, his jaw while her hands slide down his arms, trace his flanks - and goose his butt.
John half-moans, half-laughs at the movement, but his head is spinning.
"John?"
She's kneeling in front of him on the bed, waiting for an answer, and John pulls himself out of the daze of his bindings to the anchor of dark, dark eyes. "Yeah?"
A smile plays on her lips. "Still with me?"
"Oh, yeah."
She leans in and her lips brush his in a tender kiss. For a moment, John leans into it, comforted by the familiar ground - less dangerous than where they're playing in now.
Then she bites his lip - just hard enough to sting. And John gasps as the startling nip launches him high and wild, like a bird in freefall.
"Playtime," Teyla says in a purr that brushes against John's senses like a feather down his cock.
Later, unbound and undone, John spoons up against her when she climbs into the bed.
fin